A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  Darcy pulled her to him in sudden emotion, his throat choking and an unfamiliar burning in his eyes. “I do not deserve you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he said huskily, and Elizabeth could not doubt the earnestness of the compliment, even though she was still uncomfortable at being described in such flattering terms. Not being able to put her discomposure into words, she reverted to a wife’s most effective options in such a situation as she turned toward him and raised her lips to his own. Naturally, such a display of affection led to the inevitable consequence, and shortly afterward Elizabeth’s gay laughter sounded from behind the bed curtains.

  “It is just as my aunt said!” she chortled, as her nightgown again sailed out through the gap in the bed curtains.

  * * * * *

  Friday, May 1, 1812

  The remainder of the week passed in a similar fashion for the newly wedded couple. They rose when they pleased, ate when they were hungry, irrespective of the time, and made love when the urge struck them. Darcy ventured to the library and brought up several books in which Elizabeth had expressed an interest. Often, he would read to her while she nestled comfortably against him, her head on his shoulder, but much of their time, they simply talked, lying in his bed under the covers. They did go downstairs for supper on Wednesday evening but otherwise took all their meals in their rooms. The household staff had few duties other than to provide meals for the couple, and thus they were well aware that their master and mistress were enjoying a most successful honeymoon. All concerned were certain that this boded well for the future happiness of the family though Mrs. Taylor was forced to quell a considerable degree of good-natured speculation as to how soon a Darcy heir might be expected. To be sure, her attempts in that matter would have been more effective if she had been better able to suppress her own smile, for she was well pleased at the way her master and mistress got on together on the rare occasions during the week when she had seen them.

  Georgiana returned to Darcy House late in the afternoon on Friday along with her Aunt and Uncle Matlock, accompanied by Colonel Fitzwilliam. She had quite enjoyed her visit, having entertained Jane several times, as well as accompanying her friend on several shopping expeditions and to the theatre for a performance of Shakespeare’s “Julius Caesar” along with Mr. Bingley and the colonel. She was not as fond of the Bard’s histories as she was his comedies, but it was still a pleasant diversion. It was made more pleasant by Colonel Fitzwilliam’s whispered asides during the play that had kept all three of them in a constant struggle to contain their laughter. She particularly remembered one comment as Mark Antony alluded to Caesar’s many victories when Richard had muttered to her, “Now I know old Will was making this stuff up. Could anything be more unlikely than an Italian general who not only fought a battle but won it? And more than once?”

  Elizabeth and Darcy were just coming down the stairs as the family party entered the house. Georgiana was immediately struck by the changed aspect of her brother. She had known and been comfortable with his solemnity and seriousness for so long that she was quite taken aback by his cheerful expression and warm smile as he greeted them with Elizabeth on his arm. He was clearly filled with good cheer, and the look of pride as he showed off his new bride was a large part of his changed aspect.

  As greetings were exchanged, Georgiana could see that her aunt and uncle were as amazed as she was. Richard, however, had a grin as large as Darcy’s, and the light of mischief danced in his eyes. He was not, however, the first to comment on Darcy’s demeanour. This was a Darcy whom none of his family had ever before seen, and Lord Matlock was even quicker than his son to weigh in on the subject.

  “Marriage does seem to agree with you, Darcy,” he said as they shook hands. “As well as looking like you have been sampling a new delivery of port to excess. You look incredibly self-satisfied, almost smug.”

  “I believe the word ‘besotted’ would be appropriate,” offered Colonel Fitzwilliam, clasping hands with his cousin in turn.

  “Like a cat that swallowed the canary,” added Lady Matlock, as she embraced Elizabeth and gave her a kiss on the cheek. Darcy’s smile only grew bigger if that were indeed possible. “You seem to have worked wonders on our nephew, dear,” she told Elizabeth as Georgiana embraced her new sister. Then, taking Elizabeth’s arm, she started down the hall. “We have decided to invite ourselves for supper, Darcy,” she said over her shoulder as the others followed her toward the parlour. “We sent a note over earlier to enquire about it, but Mrs. Taylor replied that the master was ‘indisposed’ and was not to be disturbed.” Darcy suddenly broke into a fit of coughing as he tried to choke back his laughter.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam solicitously pounded his cousin on the back, inquiring blandly, “Did the canary go down the wrong branch, Cousin?”

  “Have no fear, Mrs. Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam turned his attention to Elizabeth. “Tweaking my favourite cousin is a sport that is always in season, and this time Darcy has provided a wealth of material for years to come!”

  “Richard!” Georgiana chided. “Have some sympathy for William, for someday he will have the chance to turn the tables on you!”

  “Darcy?” Fitzwilliam laughed. “It could never happen, Georgie! All the impulsiveness lies on the Darcy side of the family. We Fitzwilliams are models of boring and staid behaviour. No material for him there!”

  Georgiana made no reply, but Elizabeth noticed the look she gave her buoyant cousin and filed it away in her memory for later consideration.

  “My dear niece, have you heard the story of how Darcy’s father courted my sister?” asked Lord Matlock jovially. “It has become almost an epic tale in the family.”

  Elizabeth dimpled over her shoulder. “I did hear a version of it earlier from William, but if you think that you might be able to add more detail, I feel certain that I would be fascinated!”

  Chapter 25

  Saturday, May 2, 1812

  Elizabeth was sitting with Darcy in his study the next morning, reviewing the multitude of cards that had been left by callers during the past week while her husband attended to his neglected correspondence. When the sound of the door knocker was heard, he looked up in mild irritation and pulled out his watch.

  “It is too early for callers,” he told Elizabeth, but in less than a minute, Stevens tapped on the door to his study and announced his aunt. Lady Matlock smiled at the confusion on Darcy’s face as he and Elizabeth rose to greet her.

  “I suspect that today will see any number of the curious come to call,” she said, eyes sparkling with humour, “and I wanted to be the first.”

  “I believe you are correct, Lady Matlock.” Elizabeth gestured to the silver tray mounded with cards on Darcy’s desk. “If all of these friends and acquaintances of William come to call today, I am afraid we will be overwhelmed.”

  “Not all will call today,” said Lady Matlock, speaking with the voice of experience. “But there will still be an impressive number. Are all of these people known to you, Darcy?”

  “I have met most but not all,” he growled, “and several of those whom I do know are persons I would much prefer to avoid.”

  “That is the way it is,” Lady Matlock told him. “Ours is a prominent family, and there are many who wish to be acquainted with you and your new wife. There are also,” she continued, her expression changing to one of distaste, “others who desire to see whether certain rumours can be stirred into something more entertaining. It is for this reason that you find me on your doorstep at such an early hour.”

  “I do thank you, Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth said. “It is exceedingly thoughtful of you.” Elizabeth indeed felt true appreciation, for by coming that morning to be with her when she received her first visitors as Mrs. Darcy, Lady Matlock would squelch any gossip cold in its tracks. A more overt gesture of approbation could not be imagined.

  “Then let us take this tray of cards into the parlour, Elizabeth,” said Darcy’s aunt, “and we can sort it into various piles — those whom
we wish to see, those who wish to see us, and those who shall not be allowed past the front door! That way”—she smiled— “my nephew might catch up on those duties he has surely been neglecting while keeping his new wife locked in his chambers!”

  Darcy groaned in response while Elizabeth and Lady Matlock joined in cheerful laughter.

  * * * * *

  Darcy reluctantly quitted the library to join the ladies as the first of the callers knocked at the front entrance. When he entered the parlour, Lady Matlock was seated with Elizabeth on a sofa just large enough for the two of them, thus ensuring that they would not be separated. Darcy would normally have been amused at his aunt’s skill in social manoeuvring, but he was distinctly out of sorts. Just the day before at that same hour, he had been reclining in bed with Elizabeth at his side, talking of Pemberley and its surrounding environs, always one of his favourite subjects. And he also recalled the way his discourse was interrupted when Elizabeth, in a sudden fluid, catlike motion, had somehow shifted from his side to completely on top of him. The way in which she smiled wickedly at him while she lazily moved her hips had —

  He had to firmly squelch that line of thought as he came to sit in a chair beside Elizabeth. He looked over at Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was talking with Georgiana. “Not that I am not always glad to see you, Cousin, but it confounds me how you continually manage to just suddenly be here without any indication of your arrival.”

  Richard grinned cheerfully. “I rode Wellington in from the Dragoons and left him in the care of Johnson. I came in the back way.”

  “Ah,” said Darcy noncommittally. Then he cocked his eye at his cousin. “Wellington? New horse?”

  “No — same horse, new name. When Wellesley was made Earl of Wellington in February, I deemed it a good time to promote Arthur accordingly, thinking it might change his disposition. But alas, I fear that Wellington is as ill tempered as Arthur was. He barely missed taking off one of Henderson’s fingers the other day.”

  “Perhaps a different animal might be advisable,” suggested Darcy.

  But Fitzwilliam was firm. “Not for any amount of money. Wellington is a mean, nasty animal, I grant you, but the sound of gunfire only makes him prick up his ears. And he will go all day and half the night without tiring. No, I think I will put up with his little foibles in return for a better chance of surviving the next encounter with that rabble Bonaparte calls cavalry.”

  “But if they are a rabble,” asked Georgiana suddenly and somewhat sharply, “why do you need a beast like Wellington?”

  “Because there are so blasted many of them, Georgie!” Fitzwilliam exclaimed airily.

  “And you make such a lovely target with that red coat,” Georgiana shot back in some spirit.

  “Ah, yes, well I might agree with you there, Pigeon, but their lordships believe the colour provides the proper inspiration for the men. No one else dares to wear red, so when we see it, we know it is one of ours.” He turned back to Darcy, “But my arrival was not pure coincidence, Darcy. It was at Mother’s special request — I will have you know — so that I might assist her and your lovely bride in doing combat with the social mavens of our fair city. She specifically requested full dress uniform — including medals,”

  “I did notice that you appeared even more awesome than usual,” Darcy said dryly.

  “She considered asking Father to also make an appearance, but she rather thought that might be deemed a trifle heavy-handed. Between the ladies and myself, I believe that we shall be able to cover your own social inadequacies quite brilliantly.”

  “No doubt,” Darcy said. However, if Elizabeth felt any measure of uncertainty, it did not show, and she seemed perfectly at her ease as the door was opened for the first of their guests.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Wallace,” Stevens called out, as a heavy-set man whom Darcy recognized from one of his clubs entered with a much younger woman on his arm. Darcy was certain that he had never seen her before in his life. Now it begins, he thought wryly. For what we are about to receive, let us give thanks . . .

  * * * * *

  “Well, that went rather well!” exclaimed Colonel Fitzwilliam buoyantly as they heard the front door close after the last of their guests.

  “Perhaps you feel so,” groused Darcy as he sprawled in his chair. “But I, for one, am exhausted by inaction and feel an inordinate desire to indulge in some type of exuberant exercise by way of compensation. Perhaps you and your Wellington against me and my Ned? To Matlock and back, perhaps? For a guinea?”

  “Darcy,” his aunt said, “I believe the constabulary takes a decidedly dim view of gentlemen racing through town streets. It would be rather a scandal to have your name mentioned in the Times for being fined ten or twenty pounds for behaving like a common ruffian — especially after your wife’s triumph this day. Elizabeth,” she said, “I cannot imagine why I ever worried about your first contact with London society. You acquitted yourself marvellously; as a hostess, you charmed them out of their slippers.”

  “You are too kind, Lady Matlock,” Elizabeth responded. “I noted several of our visitors who might have been positively fearsome had it not been for your presence by my side.”

  “Certainly, certainly, my dear, though I am confident you would have found a way to handle them. But a goodly number of them were like Mrs. Wallace, who may not be an intellectual giant but is certainly as good-hearted a young lady as you might ever meet.”

  “She very much reminds me of Jane,” said Elizabeth with a smile, “and I plan to call on her next week. Mrs. Simmons was also of the same sort. She was curious, of course, but it was a simple, honest curiosity — not at all malicious.”

  Before the conversation could progress further, Colonel Fitzwilliam rose to his feet, having just glanced at his watch. “I just noticed the time, Mother, and I believe that we must hasten on our way,” he said. “I am already late returning to the regiment, and did you not mention an appointment at two o’clock?”

  “Oh, yes, and it is past one already. My goodness, I do need to hurry.”

  “I ordered your coach readied at the stables a half-hour ago when I saw the rush of visitors start to decline,” said Darcy, also rising to his feet. “I will escort you there. I do thank you for your assistance this day though I also am certain that Elizabeth would have done splendidly in any event. But your thoughtfulness is much appreciated.”

  “Very much so,” agreed Elizabeth. “But, if I might be excused, I believe that I will retire to my chambers. I feel a slight headache coming on.” She came over to embrace her husband, stretching up on her toes to kiss his cheek with a gleam in her eye and a slightly wicked smile that only he could see.

  Darcy struggled to keep his features immobile, but the futility of this was made clear by the flash of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s teeth as he walked by Darcy’s side to the stables, though he surprisingly made no comment. Darcy was more uncertain as to his aunt, but he was inclined to believe his feelings must be clear to everyone since even Georgiana had repressed a smile when she left the parlour for the music room.

  * * * * *

  After seeing his aunt and cousin on their way, Darcy headed briskly back to his bedroom and bounded up the stairs, taking them two and three at a time. As soon as he entered his room and closed the door, he came to a sudden halt, for the view was arresting. Elizabeth stood near the window, looking out at the sunlit street below, wearing one of those alluring nightgowns that he loved so much. The bright sunlight streamed through the filmy material, outlining her slender body in a manner that made Darcy’s mouth go suddenly dry.

  Elizabeth turned as she heard the door close to see her husband standing stock-still, staring at her as if mesmerized. It was still surprising to her that she could have that effect on him when he was such a masterful man in so many other areas.

  Perhaps this reaction would fade in time, but it was really most flattering that she could cause such a response in so confident a man. If that was what love did to a person, then t
he warmth and attraction she felt for him could not be the same emotion that he felt. But perhaps, the love the poets waxed so eloquently about could not have the same expression on two such dissimilar creatures as she and her husband. Whether it were love or another emotion, there was no disguising the way she had come to want and even need to spend so much of her time with him.

  “I see you lost little time in acting on my hint, Mr. Darcy,” she told him wickedly as he seemed to shake off his bemusement.

  “I would be daft not to respond to such a sensible suggestion, Mrs. Darcy,” he said huskily, as he walked across the room, tugging on his cravat. He paused by his bed long enough to throw back the covers before turning to Elizabeth, removing his coat and tossing it over a chair as he crossed to her.

  “I did worry a little that you might not have taken my meaning,” she said, cocking her head in an inquisitive manner.

  “There is little chance of that, madam, not until I have completely taken leave of my senses,” he said, as he reached her and slipped his arms around her waist. Elizabeth had already tilted her head back as his arms pulled her close, and her eyes were half-closed as he lowered his mouth to hers. Even the familiarity of the past week could not dull the sweetness of her kiss as he felt her arch upward, kissing him back with an eagerness equal to his own. He drew back slightly as he felt her fingers at the buttons of his waistcoat, but then, realizing what she was about, he again lowered his mouth to hers. Her tongue darted and teased at his as he slipped it between her eager lips, and his hands explored the curves he found so exciting as she finished with the buttons of his waistcoat and began to tug it over his shoulders.

  “I am glad you decided to wear trousers today, sir,” Elizabeth said breathlessly, her fingers fumbling at the buttons at his waist. “I have decided that I much prefer them to . . . ooohhhh!” She gasped in delight as she felt the delightfully delicate touch of his tongue on her ear, and she tried to concentrate on unfastening the buttons of his trousers. That was especially difficult since she could feel his arousal through the fabric of the garment. Finally, she finished with the last of the buttons and pushed his trousers downward until they fell to his knees.