To say Darcy was confused was an understatement. She was to marry the neighbor’s farmhand? With no explanation whatsoever? When she begged her mother for more information, she was waved off, told to expect James to come calling and explain things.

Darcy’s father had disappeared into his study with a flagon of brandy and hadn’t been accepting any visitors, especially not his only daughter, so Darcy was left to pick up the pieces of her life without so much as a kind word from him.

It seemed so long ago, even though the nervous butterflies in her stomach told her it had indeed only been fourteen days and nights.

Fourteen days and nights of not speaking to anyone, refusing James’s calls, and contemplating running away, only to be caught by her father when she had reached the garden gate. He hadn’t stopped her, simply bade her sit so he could explain himself.

According to him, once he died, their estate would be entailed away to a distant cousin. Her mother would be at the mercy of Darcy’s future husband. And James Barnes was extremely well off. He’d take care of Darcy, and Darcy’s mother when the time came. If Darcy chose to stay and go through with it, that is.

She’d sat there beside her father for the longest, wondering if she could live with herself for abandoning her mother and concluded that no, she couldn’t. Sighing heavily, she looked at her father. “You might have explained all this earlier instead of hiding in your study like a coward.”

Most daughters wouldn’t ever speak to their fathers in the way Darcy just had, but most daughters weren’t like Darcy Lewis.

“I know this. I just couldn’t face you, knowing I’d ruined your life by not handling my money better.”

She sighed once more and patted his hand. “Mr. Barnes isn’t all that terrible.”

And so the matter was put to rest. With a few days to spare.

The dust had settled and the ceremony had taken place. Currently, they were driven to Darcy’s family’s estate for the wedding breakfast. They, being Mr. and Mrs. Barnes.

She stole a glance at her husband. He looked hard and cold. Out of place in his finery. She’d only ever known James as a farmhand. She’d no idea he actually owned the estate bordering theirs until her father had disclosed it to her a few nights past.

Along with the straight facts of the matter. The money was gone.

Well, the amount needed for a decent dowry, at any rate. Marriage to James Barnes was her first, last, and only option. If she wanted to keep herself and her mother off the streets, that is.

She’d scarcely left her room since her mother sprang her very short engagement on her. Not even to come down to meet with James before the ceremony. She’d been childish and nearsighted, not taking the fortnight before the wedding ceremony to get to know her intended.

He’d come around every night, settling finally for a letter, which asked for her hand formally. He had such lovely handwriting, it made her heart ache at how ugly she was being.

Darcy had sent back her acceptance straight away. Formal and perfunctory. But an acceptance nonetheless.

She especially regretted it all now since he looked stiff and uncomfortable. Perhaps as uncomfortable as she.

But that couldn’t be, could it? He was the one with all the freedom. She was the one who needed him. She stood to benefit the most from this.

Why had he even agreed to this in the first place?

He wasn’t plain by any standard. And if he were as well off as her father had stated, he could have any of the girls in the county.

It was a question that could surely have been answered if she’d bothered to meet with him before the ceremony.

Upon arrival at her home, or her parents’ home, she supposed, James was quick to help her down from the carriage amid all the guests clapping for them. He tucked her hand into the crook of his arm or she wouldn’t have been able to walk back into her former home again.

She could scarcely eat her breakfast. Even though she was gastronomically inclined, everyone stopped her from eating with questions and congratulations. And manners dictated that she put down her knife and fork to receive each and every accolade. It was only proper. No matter how her stomach growled.

Tucking into a bit of lukewarm scrambled egg, she chewed and swallowed quickly as she saw someone else approaching.

Her mother’s friend, Baroness Katarina Zemo. Her husband, Baron Helmut had been the one to introduce her family to James in the first place. He seemed to think very highly of him. She supposed for someone who was titled as he, that was a good thing. James came with the blessing from the Baron and Baroness.

But just as she was about to address the baroness, James raised one hand. “Please. My wife’s scarcely had a moment to eat since we sat down. And I won’t have her fainting from hunger on our carriage ride to Paris.”

Paris? Darcy was surprised to hear that. But she supposed a honeymoon trip was customary. But one to Paris? Just how well-off was James?

Another question that might have been answered if she’d simply stopped being a child and accepted her intended when he called.

“Oh, of course,” Katarina said, sweeping into an empty chair across from the couple. “Continue eating, Mrs. Barnes. I won’t be offended if you attend to your nourishment in front of me. I simply wanted to speak with you both before you leave for Paris. To tell you how happy I am that this has happened for you.”

Darcy chewed hesitantly, but she was too hungry not to eat when bade.

James was the one who did the talking for her. “I’m sure you are, Baroness. Do tell your husband that I send my best regards.” His voice sounded flat despite the warmth of his words. Even flatter than before. Darcy was surprised to hear such snideness coming from someone she’d assumed to at least possess the barest minimum of decorum. Why that had been the only thing she knew of her husband. He’d always been cordial with her. Why she’d even venture to say that he’d been friendly on the few times they’d spoken.

“Oh, I will, Mr. Barnes. I truly hope the two of you enjoy your honeymoon trip. You must write us when you arrive at the hotel and tell us everything about your stay. Drop our names at the hotel and you’ll be treated like royalty. I bid you have a wonderful life together.” The baroness swept away as quickly as she’d come.

Darcy chewed on a bit of bacon, turning for the first time to her husband to speak to him.

“You were awfully rude to the Baroness,” she said.

James smirked, clearly amused. “So you can still speak to me. I had wondered.”

Darcy flushed, he was right, the first words she’d spoken to her husband beyond their vows, and she was reprimanding him.

“My apologies, I simply thought---“

“No apologies are necessary. You’re absolutely correct in your astute observation. I’m rude to the Baroness, but I think you’ll find me downright disrespectful to the Baron himself. Seeing as it’s his fault you were forced to marry me and that I had to take a wife at all.”

Darcy frowned. “How so? I thought certain you married me to keep my family from the poor house when Papa dies.”

“I’m happy I was able to find a mutually beneficial marriage, rather than having to impose upon some young woman with no other prospects.”

Darcy’s face burned, and she turned back to her plate. “With all due respect, I had other prospects.”

“That’s not a slight to you as a person, Miss Lewis. I simply refer to your lack of a dowry. I think you’ll find that you won’t be wanting for anything as my wife. What you lack in money, I can make up in spades. And I’m certain you will raise my social standing with your bright, beautiful nature.”

The words felt flowery, but coming from someone she’d only known to speak the barest of truths, it felt like more than words.

“It’s Mrs. Barnes, now,” she said softly.

He exhaled slowly. “I don’t expect anything from you, you know.”

“Surely you’ll agree that I should take your last name,” she countered.

“Not that. Of course, you’ll have my name. I simply meant... I don’t expect anything else in the way of...  marriage. You’ll have your own apartment to decorate as you will. You won’t have to expect me to come to visit you there.”

His meaning was implied, but apparent.

Darcy frowned and took another bite of egg, chewing thoughtfully before she answered him. “No one knows what the future may bring, Mr. Barnes.”

“It’s James now,” he corrected her, smirking in a cheeky sort of way. “And I mean it. You don’t owe me anything in that respect.”

She turned to look at him, his face in profile as he looked down at his own unfinished breakfast. Her eyes followed the fine cut of his cheekbones and jawline. At his lips.

When he’d kissed her at the end of their wedding ceremony, it had been very chaste. Of course, it had. But just at the end of their embrace, she noted something else. Something deeper. Something she could see wanting to pursue in the future.

Exhaling, she blotted at her mouth with her napkin. “I mean it as well, James. Don’t speak to the future and I won’t worry about owing you anything.”

James chuckled. It was soft and warm. A great deal more relaxed than his previous demeanor. “I wish only the best for you, Darcy.”

It was awfully nice of him to have everyone over here for dinner at his farm.

Scratch that, it was nice of Laura. She was the true star here. With her ambrosia salad that was so good Darcy and Thor were kind of eying each other over the big serving spoon.

She started to unfold her blanket for lack of anything else to do. For once, no one needed her for anything. She picked a spot near the fire on the cushiest looking log and hunkered down. The air was chilly to her back, but to her front, where the fire was roaring, it was almost blistering hot.

Jane was busy standing over with Bruce and pointing out the constellations for the star-struck doctor. She kind of wondered when her Janey would realize that the only stars Bruce was interested in were the ones sparkling in her eyes.

Darcy sighed happily, feeling a little bit like a happy old grandmother, seeing all her kids happily paired up with each other.

Jane with Bruce.

Thor with Valkyrie.

Clint with Laura.

Natasha with Wanda.

Steve with Sam.

And as for herself?

“Hey there, dollface…”

The log she was sitting on bounced a little when Bucky sat down.

“For someone who wants to keep this on the down-low, you certainly chose the only spot beside me, didn’t you?” Darcy teased, tugging the blanket more tightly around herself and scooting down a little to make room.

“What? I wanted to get this spot before Cooper sat here.”

“Jealous of the fourteen-year-old, are we?”

“Nope,” he grinned, scooting down a little closer. “Just wanted to sit with my girl.”

She guessed no one was really paying attention to what they were doing anyway. They were too into themselves. Not that it was a bad thing. Some of these idiots could stand to be a little more into themselves sometimes.

“I ain’t complaining,” she said happily, beaming over at him. “Kind of romantic. Just a wall of fire between us and everyone else.”

Bucky’s hand slid along her arm and over her elbow, clearly searching for her hand and coming up short since she was all tucked under her throw blanket. He huffed out a sound of annoyance and tugged on the edge of the fabric until he could sneak his hand underneath.  His fingers were icy when he found hers. Icy enough to prompt Darcy to offer to share her throw.

He smirked a little, shaking his head. “Nah, what will people say if we huddle under the same blanket at a bonfire?”

“Probably something like ‘it’s about time’,” she mused into the flames and crackling logs.

“You’re probably right about that. I think Steve would throw me a party.”

“Would there be cake at this party?” Darcy asked.  “Because if there’s cake, I think I would be on board for telling Steve.”

“You gonna give up meeting in secret?” he asked. “Because last time I checked, you thought it was hot as hell.”

“Yeah, well. Maybe I’m past hot as hell and I want some cake, Sarge.”

He looked her up and down, winking when he caught her eye. “Nah, you still look hot as hell to me.”

"Please don't be mad…" she said quickly, sitting down beside him.

He turned to look at her. "Why would I be mad? You're my girl, aren't ya?"

She grinned, nodding. "So they tell me."

"Why would I get mad about you wanting to find your dad?"

"I dunno, extra drama on top of all the wedding stuff…"

"I mean… it wouldn't be YOUR wedding without a little bit of drama, would it?" He asked, leaning over to nuzzle her nose. "I adore you and all the drama that comes along with you."

"So you're fine with this?"

"I mean… I haven't heard a peep outta your mom, and if your mom can be okay with this, then I sure as hell…" he trailed off at the knowing look on Darcy's face. "Oh shit. Darce…"

"I mean… I might not have—"

"You didn't tell your mom."

"I didn't get a chance to let her know that I've narrowed it down to three fellas and they're all here."

"Darcy-doll…" Bucky sighed heavily and laid back on the bed. "You didn't tell her."

"Nope."

"And they're here."

"They're in the carriage house."

"The carriage h—" He took a deep breath, his eyes closing for a long moment. "You've got three grown men in that old carriage house. Unattended."

"I told them the hotel was overbooked."

Bucky exhaled loudly, laying back on the bed to stare up at the ceiling. He had a bachelor's party to get to, but instead, he was worrying about his future father-in-law's identity. "Okay, so do I get to know their names?"

"Bruce Banner. He's a nuclear physicist. Tony Stark, an engineer. And Erik Selvig. Theoretic-Astro physicist."

"Damn. Betty has a type, doesn't she?"

"Shush, you."  Darcy swatted his arm. "Don't judge her, she was young."

"She was young. They were geniuses.  It was meant to be."

"Are you going to help me or not?"

"Help you with what? Looks like you've got it under control."

Darcy flopped down on the bed beside him. "Bucky… please?"