Finally ensconced in their snug room for the evening, Ellis cuddled with his bride and continued to ask for forgiveness. “I am so sorry, Georgie … of all people to lose track of time. I hope you are not having second thoughts concerning me.”

“Oh husband, I have, indeed, been having second, third, and fourth thoughts of nothing but you for the past … ” Georgiana checked her timepiece and frowned. “ … however many hours since we wed. Now, please stop agonizing and apologizing. Your man did well to secure this room on such short notice. Ellis, these accommodations are charming, we have enjoyed a scrumptious serving of food, there is a roaring fire in the grate, and I would be grateful if you would cease fussing as regards my comfort. To be honest, I am scarcely aware of my surroundings while I am with you.”

They declared their ardent admiration for one another, kissed passionately, and in due course found their way to the large, inviting bed. Alas, Fleming, the son of a clock-maker, was dissatisfied with the mattress and wanted to complain to the innkeeper. His wife, on the other hand, was not in any discomfort and insisted he stop tucking the ticking and talking. Georgiana had a better conception of how they should expend time on their wedding night, and Ellis could not find fault with her excellent way of thinking.

The next day, as the sun climbed higher, Georgiana, who was not a morning person, ignored her husband as he shook her shoulder and coaxed her to arise. She groaned at his chipper tone, opened one eye, and was surprised to find Ellis already dressed, bright-eyed, and bushy-tailed. Mrs. Fleming groaned for a second time and pulled the quilt over her head.

“Georgie, love, it is a glorious morning. Rise and chime, sweetheart. I am eager to take you to Eventide Hall, my family’s age-old estate.” Ellis pulled the coverlet off his wife and was rewarded with a glower. “Come along, my sugar. I have already eaten but will join you for an extra breakfast. Akin to a clock, when I am hungry, I go back four seconds.”

Georgiana snatched the bedcover away from him. “Ellis, are you always so cheerful in the morning? We did not catch much sleep last night. Are you not tired?”

“My dear, Mrs. Fleming, I come from a long line of watchmakers. We are used to working around the clock, so I do not require much slumber.” He grappled and tugged the quilt from her grasp. “Ah, Georgie?”

“Yes, Ellis?”

“Last night … ,” He smirked as he realized why his wife was so sleepy. “Was I imagining it, or did you, in the throes of passion, refer to me as a handsome barbarian?”

“You were imagining it.” Mrs. Fleming’s face was flushed as she dove under the covers again.

As with nearly all newlywed couples, Ellis and Georgiana did, after some time, adjust to one another’s routine. Within a year, however, they had to adjust to their daughter’s routine. Although they were both tickled pink over the birth of their first healthy child, the new mother wondered why people spoke of sleeping like a baby. Ella Helene Fleming, their adorable infant, insisted on waking every two hours, like clockwork.

Afterword

In the Darcy Family Way

In the sumptuous master bedchamber of Northumbrella, Fitzwilliam Darcy lounged abed while his wife of two months stood nearby at her easel and observed him.

“May I ask to what this scrutiny tends, Elizabeth?”

“Merely to the illustration of your physique,” said she easily. “I am trying to capture it.”

“And what is your success?”

She shook her head. “I do not get on at all. My subject is far too distracting.”

“I wish, Lizzy, you would not sketch my anatomy at the present moment, as there is reason to fear the performance would reflect no credit on either of us.”

“But if I do not take your likeness now, I may never have another opportunity.”

“As my wife, I assure you there will be ample opportunities for you to see me thusly; but I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours. Come here,” he warmly invited; and Lizzy put her paints away and climbed back into bed.

Several mornings afterward, Fitzwilliam Darcy, in a midnight-blue silk dressing robe, stood before the easel that held the canvas his wife had completed the previous evening. “Well, this is unquestionably one painting which will not be placed in the gallery at Pemberley.”

“I am offended, husband. I rather thought it should look well hung next to that of your great uncle, the judge.”

“I cannot judge … is this a very striking resemblance of my form, Lizzy?”

“Do you not think I did it justice, darling?”

“How near it may be, I cannot pretend to say. You think it is a faithful portrait undoubtedly.”

“I must not decide on my own performance, Fitzwilliam. But, if you will come back to bed, I may offer many compliments on yours,” she warmly invited. The effect was immediate, and a deeper shade of colour overspread his features; Darcy said not a word, cast aside his robe, and climbed in alongside her.

During the third year of his marriage to Georgiana, following the birth of their second daughter, Leanne Georgina Fleming, Ellis worked diligently to write the first book on the production of watches and clocks; and when it was finally published, everyone thought it was about time. The opening sentence was, ’Contrary to popular belief, people who work in watch factories do not stand around all day making faces’.

While doing research for his publication, Ellis Fleming came across the following anecdote. The Tates Watch Company of Massachusetts, America, wanted to manufacture other products; and since they already made the cases for pocket watches, they decided to market compasses for the settlers traveling westward. Although their timepieces were of the finest quality, the company’s compasses were so faulty pioneers often ended up in Canada or Mexico rather than California. This, of course, was the origin of the expression, ‘He who has a Tates is lost.’

Darcy Ellis Fleming was born in the fourth year of their marriage. Darcy was a happy babe and continued to be good-natured, albeit very active, as he grew into boyhood. In the mornings Georgiana and Ellis watched their son rise; in the afternoons they watched their son shine; and after their son was set for the night, they could finally rest.

Fitzwilliam Darcy entered Northumbrella’s west-facing sitting room as the mid-afternoon sun slanted in through tall windows and cast its meagre light on his lovely wife. To him it seemed Elizabeth radiated a warmer glow than that late-February sun. He stood behind her chair, placed his hands gently on her shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. “What manner of project are you working on so industriously there, Mrs. Darcy?”