A Most Civil Proposal

by C. P. Odom

  After the tour of the house, Elizabeth expressed a desire to see the grounds, so Mrs. Reynolds turned back to her work while Georgiana remained with her. As they walked across the lawn towards the river, Elizabeth turned back to look again at the stately aspect of the house.

  “It is rather overwhelming,” Elizabeth said, waving at the house and the surrounding grounds. “I find the thought of being Mistress of Pemberley to be slightly terrifying.” She noticed that Georgiana seemed withdrawn, and she took her arm and tucked it into hers.

  Georgiana,” she said as they resumed walking toward the river, “you must put your experiences with Mr. Wickham behind you.”

  Georgiana stopped in shock, “How . . . how do you know . . .”

  Elizabeth pulled her back into motion as she continued walking. “Because you are not the only young lady he has deceived, dear sister. He did a most effective job of deceiving me about William, and I am still mortified when I think of how credulous I was in believing his lies. But William was also correct when he said that Mr. Wickham is most successful when the object does not possess the cynicism and suspicion to detect his treachery. Would you not say that describes both of us?”

  Georgiana was shocked that her brother had spoken of her troubles, even to Elizabeth, and she said as much.

  “Georgiana,” Elizabeth sighed, “you should probably know this since Colonel Fitzwilliam is aware of it, but when your brother first proposed marriage to me, I was so incensed at his purported mistreatment of Mr. Wickham that I was very firm in rejecting his offer. We spent several hours talking out my objections to him, and after he explained the truth about Mr. Wickham and, even worse, his offences against you, I was possibly the most mortified girl in all of England.”

  Georgiana stared at Elizabeth with wide eyes. “So that is what Richard meant when he said that he knew you were not a fortune hunter!”

  “Yes,” she said, smiling, “I am innocent of being a fortune hunter but guilty of being a very foolish girl who almost threw away her chance of happiness. So, you see, you shall have to give up this embarrassment about last summer lest you make me inclined to dwell on my own transgressions against good sense!”

  “But Elizabeth, you did not almost elope with Mr. Wickham! That is what causes me to feel such uncertainty and worry. I almost destroyed my whole life and possibly William’s as well!”

  Elizabeth stopped and put her hands on Georgiana’s shoulders. “I cannot allow even that to stand. I knew that Mr. Wickham could have no serious intentions since I had no money. But what if I had ten thousand pounds like poor Miss King in Meryton? Can I say with certainty that I would not have been swayed by his charms? We both know that I cannot guarantee that. No, Georgiana, we must be thankful that neither of us was forced to pay the full price of our foolishness, and we must go on with our lives without allowing that experience to be a burden on our future happiness.”

  “That is what William says.” Georgiana attempted a smile.

  “You should listen to your brother,” said Elizabeth gaily. “He is almost as wise as my Aunt Gardiner!”

  “In what way is your aunt so wise, Elizabeth?”

  “Oh . . . well . . . never mind . . . perhaps I will tell you another time.”

  Georgiana continued her walk with her friend and sister, but she was quite curious at what could have caused Elizabeth to suddenly blush so scarlet.

  * * * * *

  It was mid-afternoon before Darcy finally finished with his steward and went in search of his wife and sister. He found Georgiana studiously practicing at the pianoforte, and he was not surprised to find Elizabeth in the library; indeed, it was the first place he looked after the music room. She was on the far wall, halfway up the movable ladder, inspecting some volumes that were beyond her reach from the floor. Silently closing the door, Darcy took great care to cross the room without a sound, aided by the thick carpet. The first inkling that Elizabeth had of his presence was the touch of his hands as they slid under her petticoats. She could not prevent her sharp cry or her start of surprise, and she tried to look severe as she peered down at her husband.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she said in the sternest voice she could manage, “if you are going to creep up on your wife like that, you may sometime have to deal with a fainting female in mid-air.”

  “It is no matter, Mrs. Darcy,” Darcy responded, not moved even a jot by her scolding, “for you are as light as a summer breeze, and it would be no burden to pluck you out of the air.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and held tightly to the ladder as his hands moved up her thighs to the bare skin above her garters. “Perhaps I should come down,” she said shakily as she felt his fingers dancing over her hips and her bare bottom.

  “It would be best,” her husband responded with a definite smirk on his face. “Now that my business with my steward is resolved, I had thought to give you a more intimate welcome to Pemberley. I intended to conduct this welcome in my chambers, but it might be a refreshing change to do so on a library ladder.”

  “The ladder is much too unstable for such exploits. I will come down immediately.” She replaced the book she had been examining on the shelf. Darcy smiled and offered his hand and arm to stabilize her as she descended.

  When she reached the floor, he raised her fingers to his lips. “Dearest Elizabeth, will you accompany me to my chambers, where it is my firm intention to welcome you to Pemberley by ravishing you though you are no longer a virgin?”

  “Indeed I am not, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, smiling back in her turn, taking his offered arm, “and it would be most delightful to accompany you to your chambers and be ravished once again. But I must tell you, sir, that I do begin to fear that you may be insatiable, considering that you ravished me twice last evening at the inn and seem completely unsatisfied today.”

  “I shall never get enough of you,” Darcy said fervently, and Elizabeth laughed gaily as that familiar look came over his face.

  “I shall depend on that,” she told him firmly, squeezing his arm as they left the library.

  At the top of the stairs, they came upon Mrs. Reynolds talking with two maids, but they passed with just a quick word and a nod. With Elizabeth on his arm, Darcy briskly continued on to the door of his bedroom and disappeared within.

  Mrs. Reynolds smiled to note that Mr. Darcy did not even bother with the pretence of escorting his wife to her own chambers while he went to his own. Then, though the bedroom door was quite heavy, the three women heard the sound of Elizabeth’s gay laughter and the master’s answering merriment. They all tried to hide their smiles, for they had heard tales of the impulsiveness of Darcy’s good father, and it appeared his son was cut from the same cloth.

  “Please inform the staff that the master is not to be disturbed until he rings,” said Mrs. Reynolds, struggling to contain her smile. Certainly, the master and his wife were on the most friendly terms just as Mrs. Taylor had intimated in her discreet letter.

  “Yes, ma’am,” chorused the giggling maids.

  “And no tales!” cautioned Mrs. Reynolds, and the two maids quickly gave their agreement before they departed.

  “Though much good it will do,” said Mrs. Reynolds softly to herself, allowing herself to show a broad smile of contentment for the first time. It was good to have the master home and so well settled!

  * * * * *

  When Elizabeth awoke, the room was dim, and a quick glance outside showed that the sun was nearly at the horizon. Quickly, she shook Darcy awake. “William, we have overslept. It is almost dusk.”

  Darcy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and smiled up at her. “There is no rush, Elizabeth.” He reached out his arms for her, and she allowed herself to be drawn back down to his embrace.

  She snuggled comfortably into his side. “It shall be as you wish, Master of Pemberley. However, I do seem to remember that you told your sister that we would dine at six o’clock, and it is rather past that time.”

  Darcy’s eyes opened wide at that,
and his only comment was, “Oh.” After a few minutes, he sighed. “Well, there is nothing for it, dearest. We shall have to hurry and dress for dinner.”

  After another few minutes, they reluctantly arose and adjourned to their separate rooms. Quickly, Darcy summoned Jennings, and Elizabeth rang for Sarah with the result that they were descending the stairs in little over a half-hour.

  They found Georgiana in the library engrossed in a book, and the three of them went to the small family dining room with a small table sized perfectly for their party. Within moments of their seating themselves, the servants began to bring out the steaming bowls of soup.

  “What were you reading?” asked Darcy.

  “Shakespeare,” she replied. “‘Julius Caesar.’”

  Darcy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought that you preferred the Comedies.”

  “I do. But I had the opportunity to see ‘Julius Caesar’ while I stayed with my aunt and uncle, and I was interested in actually reading the play. Especially since I had so much time available with nothing to do,” she said innocently, her eyes on her soup.

  Darcy looked at her sharply, but he was not able to read her expression. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I am sorry about making you wait, Sweetling. I quite lost track of time.”

  “I daresay,” Georgiana said in the same tone as before. “But I truly expected no different, given the impulsiveness of the Darcy family.”

  Darcy was immediately seized by a fit of coughing, choking on his soup when he swallowed convulsively at her unexpected tartness.

  “Georgiana, you must not sport with your brother like that,” admonished Elizabeth dryly as Darcy took a sip of wine to clear his throat. “I am too newly married a wife to become a widow!” Georgiana was completely unaffected by her comment, wearing a wide smile at her success in discomfiting her brother.

  “Have you been giving my sister lessons in impertinence, Mrs. Darcy,” he said accusingly, though the sharpness of his question was belied by the smile on his face.

  “I have not, Mr. Darcy,” responded Elizabeth gaily, “I daresay she has a natural talent for it!” Both ladies laughed in delight as Darcy tried to assume his stony visage, but he quickly desisted and joined them. In truth, he was mightily encouraged that Georgiana seemed to be emerging from the shell she had retreated into after last summer — even if it meant that he might be the recipient of such jibes from the two dearest individuals in his life.

  Chapter 28

  Monday, July 6, 1812

  Elizabeth opened her eyes sleepily to see the light of dawn just beginning to filter through the curtains. She felt her husband behind her and she nestled against him, her back to his front, holding his free hand with both of hers, clasping it to her bare breast in the way that she found so comforting and secure.

  She dreamily faded back into a half-sleep, thinking about the previous evening, and she knew her nightgown was somewhere on the floor of the bedroom. She smiled as she remembered the almost boyish glee that he seemed to derive from peeling it off and lofting it out into the darkness. She would have to keep a warm robe near to the bed once winter came. But how pleasant it was to lie there in William’s arms, right where she was, and to be held in such a way. She was truly contented with her life as his wife — more content than she had ever dreamed to be.

  As Elizabeth continued to drowsily think on how happy she had become over the past weeks, of how confident she was of William’s love, of her pleasure in their conversations and walks, a realisation penetrated to her consciousness that what she felt was more than contentment — much, much more. She opened her eyes completely now, suddenly wide-awake as she searched thoughts and emotions that she had only become aware of in her dreamy state. At that moment, Elizabeth clearly saw what had been murky before, and she realized that she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She clutched his hand fiercely as she suddenly, with a flash of insight, understood that what she felt was love. She knew now — not just suspected but absolutely knew — that she had fallen completely in love with her husband. It had occurred so gradually that she had not seen the change, wrongly putting down her feelings to comfort and contentment and affection. She had been unaware of it until that very moment!

  Elizabeth twisted around, feeling a sudden stab of emotion in her heart as she looked at William’s handsome, well-known, and yet somehow freshly new features. The sudden realization of how very dear he was to her was almost frightening in its intensity. As she inspected the face that had become so familiar to her in the past weeks, she thought back on the twisted road that had led to that moment. When she considered the many obstacles that could have caused them to lose their way, she was deeply thankful to have successfully arrived at such a state.

  She could not restrain herself, for the surging in her chest was completely new to her.

  “Wake up, William,” she said, putting her hand to his cheek.

  Darcy’s eyes opened to find her face close to his own, and he smiled at her tenderly. “Good morning.”

  Elizabeth put both of her hands on his cheeks and said intently, “I could not wait for you to wake up, dearest. I want you to know that I love you.”

  Darcy smiled and pulled her close. “I know,” he said softly into her ear.

  Elizabeth sat up suddenly, only to be pulled back down by his strong arms. “What do you mean, you know?” she said in confusion. “I did not know myself until just a few minutes ago! How could you know?”

  Darcy’s smile grew, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. “Because you talk in your sleep.”

  “I do not talk in my sleep!” Elizabeth said firmly, but Darcy just continued to smile at her.

  Eventually, she whispered, “I do?”

  “Yes, dearest Elizabeth,” Darcy said softly. “For weeks now, usually in the hours just before dawn, I have awakened to hear you murmuring things like, “I love you, William,” or “Yes, love, yes,” or “Love me, William.”

  Elizabeth blushed as she realized that she must have been dreaming of their lovemaking, but her discomposure only made Darcy kiss her again.

  “Then I should make myself perfectly clear,” Elizabeth persisted, breaking off the kiss. “Now that I am awake and finally know myself. I do love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and it has made me the happiest woman in the world to be your wife.”

  Darcy smiled as the last piece to the puzzle of his own happiness snapped into place, and he kissed her tenderly. “I would have waited a lifetime to hear those words, Elizabeth, and, as gratified as I have been, I am now the happiest man in the world to be your husband.”

  Then Elizabeth grinned wickedly. “Then, since you have heard these words before, let me repeat them.” She looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Love me, William. Love me and make me your wife in every last particular.”

  “Your wish is my command, dearest,” he said, as his hand moved to her bottom and pulled her hips firmly against his while his other hand went to the back of her neck.

  As his lips touched hers, Elizabeth almost gasped at the heat. It had to be her imagination, but his lips seemed almost on fire as he kissed her. Her passion was fuelled by the emotions surging through her, and she kissed him back fiercely, her tongue reaching deeply into his mouth to dance against his own. She arched herself against him, trying to force her bare skin inside his own in the strength of her need to bring him close to her, and Darcy felt a sharp pain as her fingernails dug into his back.

  Their lovemaking was as fierce as her surging passions. Elizabeth lowered her head to Darcy’s chest and her teeth delicately nipped at his flesh to send sharp thrills through him. She clutched him with her small hands in the way she knew he loved, bringing him to an arousal that matched her own before her hands moved to his hips so that he felt her fingernails again sinking into his skin as she urgently pulled him against her. She did not need any preparation; her only desire was to feel him inside her, and she writhed as she begged him, “Please, William . . . please, I need you . . . oh, hur
ry, darling . . . please hurry . . . ”

  As he finally entered her, Elizabeth arched herself to meet him, her hands urging him to penetrate her deeper. She opened herself fully for him, her legs capturing his as he moved inside her, and her legs joined her hands in signalling her desire for him to move faster and deeper. He was caught in her need, and surrendered to a rhythm as old as humanity and as new as the morning. Elizabeth gasped as she pulled him down to her so that her sharp little teeth could nibble at his ear lobe: “Oh, yes, dearest . . . oh, my love, do not stop . . . William . . . oh, William, oh, William . . . yeeeessss!!”

  Darcy’s mouth smothered her cries as she was wracked by a wave of pleasure and fulfilment almost too intense to bear. She shuddered and quivered as Darcy continued his rhythm, and he brought her to another crest of pleasure even as he reached his own. She pulled him downward against her as she arched upward toward him, and the blissfulness of completion was an emotional sweetness as intense as her physical release.

  Darcy was sweating from the exertion, but Elizabeth was gasping and slippery from an even greater effort, continuing to stroke him from his shoulders to his bottom while she murmured endearments into his ear. He felt her need to atone for the weeks past, and he knew that she did not want him to move from atop her. Despite his instinctive wish to take his weight off her, he had learned that she desired that feeling in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Especially such an occasion as this, he thought.

  At length, Elizabeth allowed him to roll off her and tuck her into his side. She was still murmuring as she fell into a deep sleep. She was, at last, truly and completely, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.