by Gail McEwen
“But how will they? They knew Wickham, and they will have heard about his crime and the way he died. Are you going to keep secret the fact that I am his widow?”
“Not at all. We will keep nothing secret. The locals do not travel to London, nor do they follow or care about the news from there. If they have even heard of Wickham’s fate, the fact that he is buried on the Pemberley grounds will give them cause to question their understanding of the facts.”
“Wickham is buried on Pemberley grounds?” Elizabeth was stunned. “How? Why?”
“How is money. After I left Castle Street that day, I went to the courthouse and, for a price, arranged to have his remains transported and buried in the family crypt. The why was, of course, for you and for the sake of our future marriage.”
“So you truly did intend it, even then?”
“I said I did. And this leads me to your first condition…”
“Yes?” Her heart pounded in apprehension.
“In our settlement agreement, I shall stipulate that any property or funds you had prior to the marriage shall remain in your sole possession.”
“Truly?”
“Yes, truly,” he said curtly. “Would you like to know why?”
Elizabeth nodded.
“Because, although I cannot promise to always be perfect—or always in good temper, or always reasonable — I can promise to always be steady, to always treat you with respect, to always care for you and about you. In short, I will give you no reason to ever need it. Do you accept my terms?”
Elizabeth was stunned. Even as she had determined what she must have in order to marry him, she had never imagined a man so proud would ever agree. She could not deny that this was as great a compliment to her as it was a testimony of his affection.
“I do.”
“Now will you agree to marry me?”
“With one last condition.”
“What now?” Darcy asked in irritation.
“Can you manage to look at least slightly pleased at the prospect?”
He jerked his head up in surprise. Her face showed just a hint of a smile, but her eyes sparkled with mischief and delight. And something more — something he once had despaired of ever seeing. He visibly relaxed, and the corners of his mouth turned up involuntarily.
“That is a little better,” she teased.
“Elizabeth Bennet Wickham Bishop”—he smiled—“you have been the most exasperating, fascinating, compelling and infuriating woman of my acquaintance. I find that I can be neither happy nor content without you in my life, and if you feel anything close to the same for me, I beg of you, most fervently, to put an end to this torture and consent to be my wife.”
After a moment to compose herself, Elizabeth ventured an answer.
“In such cases as these, I believe the established mode is to express a sense of obligation. But I cannot.” She beamed at him as she spoke. “For what I feel at this moment is so far beyond gratitude and obligation that there are no words to adequately convey my happiness and good fortune. Yes, I will happily marry you, Mr Darcy.”
Darcy stood and, taking a step forward, took Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her up to stand before him. Tilting her chin up to receive his kiss, she was surprised when he drew back. His eyes were soft as he, with a tender smile, stroked her chin and lips with his thumb.
“Dearest Elizabeth,” he whispered. “Loveliest Elizabeth.”
She smiled so broadly that she could not even speak, but impatient, she lifted her hand to the back of his head and drew him close. Their first kiss, in the conservatory the night of the Greysons’ ball, had been a revelation of feelings that fought to be acknowledged. Their second, on that fateful day of George’s execution, had been a surrender to desires long suppressed. But this, their third kiss, was a celebration of love against all odds, an acknowledgment of mutual weakness and strength, and an admission of just how much they needed each other. And at that moment, with everything so fragile and new between them, both were content to leave it at a kiss.
“I must return to Rosings.” Darcy smiled as he drew back. “I have so many letters to write — to my attorney, steward, and housekeeper, to your father and to the vicar.”
“What will you say to my father?”
“I shall simply inform him of our plans to marry, nothing more. Oh, and I had better write Bingley, as well, to arrange your sisters’ portions.”
“Do you think he will be able to keep your involvement a secret, as you wish?”
“Oh, believe me; Bingley is very capable of keeping secrets.”
Chapter 25
Darcy spent a busy few days doing business by express—making wedding and travel arrangements, directing the preparation of the marriage settlement, purchasing a license, drafting an announcement for the London papers, and, with great difficulty, reconciling Bingley to the idea of taking credit for his generosity to the Bennet sisters. He also drafted quick notes to Colonel Fitzwilliam and his sister with the promise of more to come.
Elizabeth wrote only to Jane.
Such a spate of furious activity in the normally languid household could not escape Lady Catherine’s notice, and she bluntly confronted him, demanding an explanation. She was not happy with the one she received and was so extremely indignant that she gave way to all the genuine frankness of her character, abusing Elizabeth in such language as made Darcy leave Rosings and take a room at the Hunsford Inn until his business could be completed.
Knowing that Charlotte could not help but learn the news from her ladyship, Elizabeth was eager to call upon the Parsonage to say goodbye and convey her thanks and happiness to her loyal friend. This visit was more successful. Charlotte was genuinely happy, and not a little self-satisfied, at the outcome of her intervention. Mr Collins was so torn between amazement at the unforeseen rise in his cousin’s fortune despite her shame and degradation, alarm that Lady Catherine would discover he had entertained the despised Jezebel in his own sitting room, and apprehension that his dear wife would not be able to hide her pleasure the next time they were summoned to Rosings, that he was rendered nearly speechless. Charlotte accompanied Elizabeth to the door, and as they said their farewells, gave her an uncharacteristically warm embrace, wishing her all the best in the world.
When all was ready, Elizabeth packed her belongings and said goodbye to her home and her small world. Once again, she climbed into a carriage to face an unknown future waiting at the end of her journey.
* * *
The three days it took to travel to Derbyshire afforded ample time for discussion and speculation for the future. Darcy told Elizabeth all about the charming little farm his agent had found for them in Yorkshire, reading the descriptions of the gardens, the greenhouses, and the quaint but comfortable house, and making her laugh with vivid predictions of his certain ineptitude at working with his hands. Travelling such a distance inevitably brought long periods of silence too, and these allowed them to gradually grow comfortable in each other’s presence. At all times, Darcy scrupulously avoided any physical contact beyond handing Elizabeth in and out of the carriage. In a light-hearted moment, she quizzed him about it, wondering, after what had already occurred between them, why he was acting so fastidiously.
“And since we are travelling unaccompanied in a closed carriage, people will already be thinking the worst,” she added.
“This is not about what happened in the past, nor about what anybody thinks. This is a new beginning for us, and we shall do things properly.”
He did make a concession to public opinion, however, by arranging for his personal team and curricle to meet them on the last leg of their journey. News of the upcoming wedding had spread throughout the nearby countryside, and they were greeted on the rural roads and along the streets of Lambton by happy well-wishers; they smiled and waved in return. Darcy, anxious for Elizabeth to see his home at its full advantage, was made doubly happy by the fine spring weather. When they at last turned into the park, he watched for her reac
tion as they drove through the wood, taking pleasure in her every exclamation on the beauty of the landscape. His heart quickened in anticipation as the road ascended, and he observed her eagerly as they exited the woods at the top of the rise and Pemberley House at last came into view.
She gasped but was otherwise incapable of speech. Her hand flew to her mouth, and she turned to him with such surprise and enchantment in her eyes, looking from his face to the house and back in such rapid succession, that he could not contain the happiness that bubbled inside him, and it spilled out in delighted laughter.
“This…” she was finally able to utter, “this is your home?”
“Our home. As soon as you are ready.”
She had not regained the power of speech by the time they arrived at the front door, and she was barely able to manage polite nods and murmurs to the welcomes of the gathered staff. After a tour of the house, during which Elizabeth could only look around in awe, they were ushered into a small but elegant parlour where a light meal had been laid out for them. He pulled out her chair and took a seat opposite her at the table.
“You are too quiet,” Darcy said after they ate for some time without a word. “I wish you would tell me what you are thinking.”
“I hardly know what to think. I knew, indeed everyone in Meryton knew, that you had a great fortune and a grand estate, but knowing a thing and actually seeing it… I confess I am very much overwhelmed. How can you even contemplate leaving such a place?”
“I grew up here, so it is not quite as overwhelming for me.” He gave her a gentle smile. “Pemberley is my home, and my attachment to it is very strong, but if I must leave for a time to have the life I want with you, I shall willingly do so.”
“That is too selfless,” she insisted, growing agitated. “You cannot possibly be that good or that disinterested! No man can. It is too much… I cannot bear it.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do not know what I mean!” she cried. “I just know I cannot ask this of you. When I think of how stupid I was, how arrogantly I sat there and laid out my conditions. Not knowing—”
“Elizabeth”—he sighed—“I am the same man who accepted those conditions. Please do not tell me your feelings have changed just because we have arrived at my family estate.”
“They have not changed, not at all, except that my esteem for you—for the man you are—has grown even greater. And I know that I cannot ask you to sacrifice all this”—she gestured around the room that, while small and simple by Pemberley standards, was one of the grandest she had ever been in — “for my sake.”
“For your sake, for the child’s sake, and for my own sake.” He left his chair and came around to where she sat, taking her hands into his. “I will be happier to live simply in the country with the woman I love than live alone and lonely in this grand estate. Marry me tomorrow, just as you promised, and I am content, wherever we live.”
“Perhaps we could stay here?”
“If I thought it best, I would agree in a moment.” He rubbed her palm with his thumb. “But our original plan gives us the time and room we need.” With a tender smile, he leaned forward and touched her lips with his. “But thank you.”
* * *
The next morning dawned as bright and beautiful as the previous day, and Elizabeth was awakened by the arrival of several maids and an overflowing breakfast tray. She was fed, helped into her best dress, and ushered down the stairs where Mr Darcy awaited her. He took her arm, and together they walked to the Pemberley chapel to say their holy vows before God, the vicar, and witnesses in a simple ceremony. Afterwards, they made a procession through the tenant farms to receive their congratulations and best wishes, again through the village of Lambton, then back to Pemberley where a celebratory luncheon for two awaited.
It all happened in a whirl of activity, and Elizabeth felt strangely distanced from the proceedings. Only after all the pomp and ceremony was over, was she finally able to relax, and as she picked up her gleaming silver fork to partake of the elegant meal served on fine bone china, her sense of the ridiculous got the better of her and she burst out laughing.
At Darcy’s puzzled look, she tried to explain.
“My life! It is absolutely ludicrous.”
“How so?” he asked, wondering whether he ought to be offended.
“Think of it. I lived twenty years at Longbourn waiting for something, anything to happen, and nothing ever did. For twenty years, life was dull and predictable, and I was a dutiful and favoured daughter. But then Bingley came to Netherfield, and the regiment came to Meryton… Since then, I have been a bride, a disgrace, a pauper, a scandal, an embarrassment, and then an anonymous but respectable widow. Now,” she gestured to the elaborate meal before them, “for a short time, I am a princess until we quit the palace for the country where I will become a hard-working yeoman’s wife. Oh dear,” she teased as she dabbed tears of laughter from her eyes with her napkin, “I hope I am never again fool enough to complain that my life is too dull.”
“I should hope not.” He smiled. “As your husband, it would be a cruel blow to my vanity.”
“I hope it will not be too cruel a blow to you if I say that I would not mind a little boredom now and then.”
“You mean like now?”
“Now?” Elizabeth was stunned at his blunt admission. “You are bored now?”
“Well, no, not so much bored as impatient,” he said with a slight flush. “After such a full morning, the afternoon stretches interminably before us. For as long as we have waited for our wedding day to arrive, does it not now seem like the day will never end? I, for one, am eagerly looking forward to our wedding night.”
Elizabeth felt a blush rise in her cheeks, and she suddenly felt as shy and unsure as the most virginal bride. Thankfully, Darcy had no intention of treating her as such. He pushed away from the table, took her hand and pulled her up, wrapping his arms around her.
“Then again”—he smiled slyly—“we have all the time in the world and no one to please but ourselves. Let us begin the night early.”
“I…well, I suppose…” She blushed again furiously and lowered her eyes, but when he leaned in for a kiss, she could only acknowledge the wisdom of his idea and dropped any objections she may have been tempted to offer. He took her hand and escorted her up the stairs while the discreet staff disappeared into the woodwork.
He led her past the guest room she had occupied the night before and into the chambers adjoining the master bedroom that had been quietly and efficiently prepared for the new mistress.
Once the door closed behind them, he wasted no time in removing his coat, waistcoat, and cravat and tossing them to a straight-backed chair in the corner. With a tender but determined look, he approached her, turned her around and started on the buttons of her gown, pausing after every one to softly touch his lips to the newly exposed skin of her neck and back. A little nudge and the dress slid to the floor and pooled at her feet. He unlaced her corset, and it slithered, along with her chemise, down her bare skin. He stepped back and admired the picture of his wife, completely naked, her curves silhouetted in the bright sun streaming through the window.
Head bowed, she stood waiting until he closed the distance to slide his hands around her waist, moving up to cradle her full breasts, then down along her bare belly, her hips, her bottom and around again to her thighs and then between. He felt her arch towards his exploring fingers, felt the warmth and wetness of her response and the strength of his body’s response in turn.
She leaned back against him, lost in the sensation of his touch, making little noises of pleasure; then she turned around to face him with passion and desire in her eyes. Tugging at his shirt, she pulled it up and over his head, running her hands up and down his bare chest before freeing him from his trousers.
Mindful of the heated haste the last time they were together, they took their time, touching and tasting, exploring and enjoying one another. When he laid her on the bed and sh
e opened to him, he was compelled to take a moment to compose himself before entering her.
She felt him pause, hot and hard against her, and she could think of nothing but that she wanted, she needed, him inside her. She strained towards him and he responded, pressing forward, pushing past the slight resistance, filling her slowly but fully as she moaned with pleasure. She arched towards him, unable to keep still, grinding against him until he gave in. Clutching at his back, meeting his drive and desire with her own, she was lost in the sensation.
Relishing the tightness and warmth surrounding him, his mind was a muddle as his mouth wandered from her throat to her lips. He moved within her, delighting in her moans, taking his time, feeling his own pleasure mount as hers did.
She wrapped her legs tightly around his hips with the need to bring him closer and deeper, pulling him in harder, lost in the rhythm. Her breath came in gasps, her head dropped back, and suddenly she cried out with a deep, primal cry of completion. Once she reached her satisfaction, she felt Darcy surrender to his own needs and desires by plunging harder and faster. Still riding the wave of fulfilment, she felt him growing closer, and when his breath quickened, his shoulders tightened, and a low moan escaped him, she reached another peak of pleasure as he gave in to his own. She thrilled at the deep pulsing within her as he tensed and then relaxed, hot and damp, resting his head on her breast in surrender.
* * *
They remained upstairs while the room grew dark with the setting sun and the moon rose to briefly spill its light through the window on its journey across the night sky to the horizon, falling asleep, waking and making love again, touching and claiming every square inch of each other, talking and making plans quietly in the darkness until it was time to sleep again. Darcy had never felt so relaxed and free, and Elizabeth had never felt so cherished and loved. But there was much to be done, and when the morning came, new-married or no, they could not escape the demands of the day and reluctantly parted.
For seven lovely days, they stayed at Pemberley, giving Darcy the opportunity to meet extensively with his steward and staff, leaving instructions for managing the estate during his protracted absence. While he was thus occupied, Elizabeth wandered the paths and parks at her leisure and spent many hours exploring the house, finding much to love and not a little to intimidate. The servants treated her with deference and respect, her husband favoured her with his company at each meal and again in her chambers at night, and she thought that life in such a place might not be too terrible a thing after all.