She listened to the adults discussing the phenomenon with one ear.She would test her theory, and then they would know.
As soon as she returned to Longbourn, Lydia asked Jane to draw her mark.Jane was the best with a pencil and watercolors out of all of them, and she made a good rendition.Lydia wrote the date in the corner and set about her plan.
She began with Jane as she was the most approachable of her sisters.Jane agreed to help Lydia with her drawing and to gift her with the riding habit she was having replaced as Lydia looked to be growing taller than Elizabeth and Mary now.
She practiced diligently and listened to everything Jane said, and once the riding habit was adjusted to fit her, she approached Kitty.It was more than a little humbling to ask her former playmate and the sister closest to her in age for instruction, but she had a theory to confirm and she would not be swayed.
Kitty was thrilled to be asked and threw herself into teaching her sister.Much to her surprise, Lydia found that she enjoyed learning to draw and ride.Kitty was a patient teacher and her enthusiasm for the sport infiltrated everyone around her, and her drawing was already showing improvement.
She approached Elizabeth for help with her music, and soon Lydia was playing simple tunes that her sister could sing with.She was a little scared to try her own voice for she thought she had no great talent, but through Elizabeth’s gentle urging, she attempted something simple.
It was soon discovered that Lydia had a haunting alto which rather complimented Jane’s timid soprano and Elizabeth’s fuller mezzo.Even Kitty joined in the singing while Mary played.Lydia would never be as good a singer as Elizabeth, who was clearly the most vocally talented of her sisters, but she could be pleasing to the ear.And who knew?Perhaps her soulmate would prefer a deeper voice.
After a month of improving herself, Lydia went into her room and locked the door.She peeled off her gown and petticoats, then unlaced her stays and pulled her chemise over her head.Nude before the mirror, she turned to her side and lifted her arm.Her eyes were closed tight in a mixture of dread and anticipation, Jane’s drawing of her mark in her hand for comparison.
Taking a deep breath, she opened her eyes and looked in the mirror.She gasped.
Her mark was nearly unrecognizable.Where five small flowers and a larger red one had been, there were now dozens.Tiny little flowers in pink and purple and yellow, large exotic flowers in a deep pink, bright red flowers with petals she had never seen.All along her ribs and spreading onto her stomach was a tropical garden.And there, along the leaf of a full pink flower, in clear dark lettering, was the name Frederick.
She did the only thing she could in that moment.She laughed.
Chapter 6
Derbyshire, August 1811
FitzwilliamDarcylookedinthe mirror, turning his head this way and that as he examined his hair.Was it thinning along the sides?No, it could not be!His mark had only appeared seven years ago.Mate sickness was rare, and he had only heard of it occurring after at least a decade had passed without one’s soulmate.Usually twenty years or more!He could not be wasting.Not yet.
Though he had noted the mark at work in other ways.
When he was younger, he used to notice women.Not one particular feature over another, but he had appreciated their bosoms, both full and light, and the delicate bones that rested so tantalizingly above them.He had wished to run his fingers through their lustrous hair, touch their brilliant skin.A rosy cheek and a sly smile had appealed.Long legs had brought delightful images to mind, and a coy expression had sent his blood rushing.
Now, he noticed them less and less.A barmaid practically sat in his lap at a tavern last week and he had barely even realized it.His cousin Jeffrey had laughed uproariously at him.He might have thought it was merely his age.He had been twenty when the mark came in—hardly old enough for his blood to cool.But his cousins were two and four years older than he, and they noticed women a little more each year.Furthermore, they had developed very specific tastes.
Richard liked clever women with bright smiles and quick tongues.The kind who sparkled in a crowd.He did not seem to have much in the way of physical preferences, though he had never shown much attention to a plain woman.Jeffrey was just the opposite.He did not seem to care about her personality one way or another, or even that she had one.He liked a comely face with delicate features, creamy skin, thick hair, preferably blonde or even better, red, and most importantly, a full bosom.He also liked a full backside and a slightly shorter stature, but he was willing to compromise on those if his other desires were met.
Darcy rolled his eyes at him.At least Richard’s preferences had to do with character and compatibility.Jeffrey was exactly as he seemed.A dandy who cared for nothing but appearances.Well, he had gotten his just desserts.He had married Lady Minerva Sutton.She was fine-boned, full-bosomed, and had a head full of strawberry gold hair crowning a pretty face.
She was also terrified of her husband.
Darcy could not completely blame her.She had only met the man half a dozen times before they were wed, and Jeffrey did little to befriend her or even accustom her to his presence.He was direct and eleven years her senior.That ought to have stirred some compassion in Jeffrey, but it did not.He was only ever irritated at her timidity, and the more she retreated from him, the more he barked at her, and the vicious cycle went on and on.
Darcy would not be surprised if they were living in separate residences before their fifth anniversary.
That was one thing to be thankful to his mark for: he would not be pressed into an unsuitable marriage of convenience.As the only Darcy male of his generation, the family could not afford to risk him becoming ill and dying without an heir.As much as they disliked it, they would wait for his soulmate to appear and he would be spared their machinations.
He could only hope that he recognized her when they met.This waiting was becoming tedious.He had been angry when the mark first appeared.In truth, he still was.He did not like his choice being taken away, even if the end result would be a happy union with a woman he loved and who loved him in return.It was the principle of the matter.He should have been able to choose his own bride!
Thanks to this blasted mark, he did not even have preferences.Every man he knew had preferences.They knew what they found attractive and what they did not.They knew what appealed to them, what drove them wild, and what left them disappointed.
Darcy had no idea.Did he prefer tall or short?Tall might be nice so he would not crane his neck looking down at her, but short was appealing if he ever wished to pick her up.Not that he thought of such things very often, but one did wonder.
Would he like a woman who spoke her mind, or one who was more reserved?Would he have to question her endlessly to know her thoughts or would she freely volunteer them?He thought chasing after someone’s opinion sounded exhausting, but then so did living with a person who told him every thought that ran through her head, regardless of its relevance.
He would prefer clever, but an unintelligent woman was not out of the question if she had a sweet nature.He knew plenty of people who were intelligent enough, but their lack of morals or shrewish nature ruined any enjoyment he might have had from engaging their minds.Kindness was more important.Now, if a woman was kindandclever, he would be satisfied.
Darcy smiled at himself.He had a preference after all.
He looked at his hair again in the mirror.It was his imagination.It was as full as it had always been.He was simply overtired and suffering the strain of being a guardian to a fifteen-year-old girl.
