Despite this, lunch passed with no mishaps and conversation was light. Miss Darcy was especially gay, so the two young women kept the discourse lively. Immediately upon vacating the table, the tour of Darcy House began, heading up the curving staircase to the upper floors.
The first and second stories primarily consisted of uniquely decorated bedchambers with attached dressing areas. Each were comfortable, luxurious, and modern. At the present, the only occupied suite was Georgiana’s. It was the largest and included a cozy sitting room with an old harpsichord she informed had belonged to her mother. The next biggest bedchamber did not have the empty sensation most of the others did, and there was a decidedly masculine quality to the decor.
“This suite is reserved for Colonel Fitzwilliam.” Darcy stood close enough to Lizzy that she felt his breath on her neck and could smell his cologne, but he did not meet her eyes when she turned her head. “When in Town, he usually dwells at his apartment near the barracks. If he has no choice due to his work, that is,” Darcy explained, laughing shortly. “The colonel much prefers the luxury found here or at the Matlock townhouse. It depends on who is in London at the given time, but he seems to stay here mostly—probably due to the superior-grade liquor and the dart board.”
“He shows up on our doorstep like a lost puppy.” Georgiana sighed dramatically. “Tragic soul. How can we resist?”
At the top of the stairs leading back to the ground level, they completed their circuit by entering a set of double doors recessed into the wall directly across from the landing. As Lizzy predicted, it was the billiard room. A necessity in a Darcy household, the room included a host of gaming entertainments, including a spectacular billiard table and the aforementioned dartboard. Clearly designed with the male sex in mind, the room was rich with dark woods, brown leather chairs and sofas, and a dark gray carpet. It was a narrow room, extending to the rear of the upper floor, where tall windows spanning the width allowed blazing sunlight in.
“I see the benefit of the location.” Lizzy indicated the staircase and polished wood balustrade outside the open doors. “Easy to access for entertaining.”
“Indeed, that was the design, as is the location of the ballroom. Shall we?”
Descending the stairs once again, Darcy led the way to a room encompassing one corner of the ground floor, the doors exactly like the ones to the game room and diagonal from the lower landing. Although a fourth the size of Pemberley’s, the ballroom was stunning. Dark oak boards, thickly varnished, contrasted beautifully with the gold and cream walls. The sunlight streaming through a bank of windows along the back wall shimmered on the glossy surfaces, dazzling the eye. How the shine from the three crystal chandeliers and dozen wall sconces would warm the ambience at night was a vision Lizzy longed to behold.
As if reading her thoughts, Darcy said, “Sadly, this room has not been used in years—not to its full purpose that is. Family members and friends have amused themselves with casual dancing upon occasion, but we have not hosted a true ball since before our mother died.”
“Fitzwilliam and Cousin Richard taught me how to dance in this room.” Georgiana’s voice lacked the hint of sadness in her brother’s. “And my brother has promised that after my debut, we can host a ball!”
“It was a promise extracted under duress,” he sniffed. Then he winked at Mr. Bennet—Lizzy’s father nodding his head, presumably agreeing with how pretty young girls connived to get their way. “However, with a new mistress of Darcy House, I suppose parties and balls will become a frequent event. God help me.”
Lizzy matched his warm smile, and for the first time since arriving, he was her William—the man who gazed at her with love, contentment, mild humor, and longing perpetually hovering underneath. The man who made her heart race and butterflies dance inside her belly. Then, just as she felt the knots of her worries loosening, he glanced away and resumed his businesslike commentary. She was unsure whether to scream or cry but did neither.
Next on the tour were the main parlor, or salon, and the dining room. Since they were familiar with these rooms from the previous night, the examination was quick. Crossing to a far door in the dining room, Darcy entered a corridor that bisected the foyer but veered to the left toward a single door. Here he paused, looked at Mr. Bennet, and announced, “And now the one room I deem is the only one you honestly cared to visit, sir. The library.”
Not nearly as large as Pemberley’s library—as Lizzy teasingly dangled as bait to a fish—the townhouse’s library was substantial. And it was lined ceiling to floor with shelves of books. As predicted, Mr. Bennet immediately lost himself amongst the titles. She chuckled and shared an amused glance with Mr. Darcy. Again, it was brief, a faint flush touching his cheeks as he diverted his gaze and waved a hand toward the end of the library nearest the door.
“As you can see, a part of this room serves as my office. Between work and reading, I tend to pass large quantities of time here.”
“Large quantities,” Georgiana emphasized teasingly. “He has been known to fall asleep on the sofa rather than walk the astronomical distance to his bedchamber. Your presence will save him from a sore back and twisted neck, Miss Elizabeth.”
It was Lizzy’s turn to flush at the image Miss Darcy’s innocent, jesting statement conjured. She did have a point, though, considering the sofa indicated was not anywhere near adequate for a man well over six feet in height.
Not far from the sofa was an enormous, solidly constructed desk with drawers on both sides, situated before a window facing the rear garden. The surface was cluttered with an array of papers and objects, but oddly organized and neatly arranged. The chair was carved of Coromandel ebony, the leather seat and arm cushions molded in places from his body and worn from long use. Additional wooden cases against the wall behind the chair held some books but primarily objects of an obvious personal nature to Darcy. Lizzy wanted to examine each one, ask questions so as to learn more about the man she loved and was soon to marry. Unfortunately, the tension between them was increasing by the minute.
Leaving the library and Mr. Bennet behind, the trio aimed for the only wing of the mansion yet to explore. That was, of course, the private chambers for the master and mistress of the house. While not exactly an astronomical distance, they were located across the foyer on the opposite wing from the library. Access was via an archway cleverly hidden behind the staircase and an immense statue of white marble.
“Archibald Darcy, who purchased this townhouse and contributed to the design, wanted his quarters on the ground floor, so as to make use of the garden. Tremendous forethought was given to accomplish this while remaining private during social engagements. In my opinion, his solution was remarkably effective.”
Lizzy had to agree. The portal was completely invisible unless one knew it to be there. Darcy pointed to several intriguing features as they traversed the short corridor, but his strained attempts to interject gaiety and normalcy were obvious to Lizzy. She suspected they were to Georgiana as well, or maybe she did have a valid reason to excuse herself from the tour. Whatever the case, in a second, Lizzy was alone with Mr. Darcy, and the situation only grew worse.
Entering the chamber once occupied by his mother, Darcy walked away from Lizzy to stand ramrod stiff by a porcelain washbasin sitting atop a gorgeous French commode. Lizzy wandered to the window and then to the small table by the bed. She pretended to intently examine the paintings hung on the wall and embroidered pillows on the bed while he fidgeted and droned on to fill the silence. Lizzy could not concentrate on a single word, not that he was saying anything of importance. Sadness, frustration, irritation, and an unrelenting desire to kiss him combined and roiled inside her chest. Being in a bedroom contributed to her agitation, especially when abrupt visions of them lying on that bed sprung into her head—visions that were shockingly lucid considering how mysterious the act of lovemaking still was to her.
Breathing efficiently was becoming a serious problem, and her mind refused to focus. Surel
y this cloudiness worsened her inattentiveness and was why she stumbled when a curled edge of rug wrapped around her foot. There was no time to correct her balance, arms flying forward to break the fall she knew was coming and a squeak of shock passing her lips. Miraculously, instead of the hard floor, her hands and face made contact with Darcy’s solid chest, the squeak muffled against pliable brushed wool.
How he had crossed the room so fast defied logic, not that she gave the matter much consideration. Every thought spiraled out of her brain except for the awareness of his radiant heat, harsh breathing, wildly beating heart, and firmly muscled arms steadying her. Instinctively, she curled her fingers into his waistcoat and breathed in the musky aroma of his cologne. At the same time, he buried his face into her hair and inhaled deeply.
“Elizabeth. My Elizabeth.”
The rough murmur was followed by a series of rapid, frantic kisses to her head, the curved edge of her ear, jawline to cheek, and finally, blissfully, the mouth she lifted in anticipation. In a near repeat of last evening’s encounter, they went from nothing to crazed, unrestrained kissing and caressing in seconds. It was glorious! Fire surged through her veins, Lizzy feeling desired, loved, and cherished all at the same time. In those moments, she sensed her heart melding with his and, in a sudden flash of insight, understood why intimacy with the man you loved was a uniquely bonding experience. If loving with touch and shared breath had this impact, the intensity of nakedness and consummation would surely be life altering.
Then, as abruptly as it had begun, the rapturous accord was shattered. Darcy released her with a minor shove and pivoted away, a strangled cry piercing the air as he lunged to the window. Tottering once again, Lizzy watched him lean into the sill with hands balled into fists of steel and shoulders heaving with each rough inhale.
“Elizabeth,” he rasped, “you need to leave this room now! Please!”
Automatically she nodded and stepped to the door. Hand on the latch, she stopped. She was trembling and out of breath, as if having run a mile straight. Yet unexpectedly, in the midst of the chaotic emotion, everything clicked into place. Like a bolt from Heaven, clarity was restored, and with it came understanding and sympathy. There was also anger, and it was this she grabbed on to.
Securing the door, she then stormed to where he stood hunched at the window until inches behind him and snapped, “No, William, I will not leave! Turn around this instant and face me!”
He did immediately, mouth agape and eyes wide. Lizzy clenched her hands at her waist and let the full fury inside show on her face and in her voice. “Tell me truthfully, Fitzwilliam Darcy. Am I to conclude that our mutual love and desire are emotions to be disdained and ashamed of? Is this contempt and repugnance to continue after we are wed? Or is it that you honestly reckon you are such an uncontainable beast that you would hurt the woman you love? Or do you have so little faith in my self-control that you assume I would willingly allow you to ravage me like a bought woman?”
All the blood had drained from his face. Good. He needs to be shocked! Leaning closer and lifting onto her toes until almost level with his face, she growled, “Answer me!”
“No, Elizabeth”—he swallowed—“I would never hurt you or—I love you! Please…I have never wanted anything in all my life as I want you. You…are my life…you must know that? Surely you know how much—”
Elizabeth interrupted him, forcing her voice into a controlled level but maintaining her hard glare into his eyes. “William, listen to me carefully. I do not believe any of the questions I asked are true of you. What I do believe is that you are afraid to freely express your emotions. You are wrapped in an inflexible cocoon of discipline and righteousness, and are terrified that if you loosen one single cord, you will unravel completely. You love me and desire me, yet resist showing me how much because you fear I will be disgusted or disappointed if I discover you are not this towering paragon of virtue and excellence you deem yourself.”
He never once glanced away from her eyes, clearly hearkening to every word she said and stricken to the core. Suddenly her anger drained away, leaving her with the clarity, understanding, and sympathy. A fresh rush of irrepressible love netted all of it together.
Placing both hands about his face and drawing so close their noses touched, she whispered, “My God, William. Do you not yet comprehend how deeply I love you? You can be free with me and I will always love you. I trust you with my life, my virtue, my body, and my heart. You have nothing to fear from me and I fear nothing from you except for this distance between us. I beg you, do not push me away.”
“Elizabeth,” he moaned, pulling her into his arms for a crushing embrace. “I am sorry. Unbelievably sorry! You are absolutely correct. I have feared…all that you said and more. Opening my inner being is not easy for me. Surrendering to my passionate nature after so long subduing it is difficult. The lack of control is at odds with the disciplined man I proclaim to be.”
“There are multiple levels of control, my love. You can remain a highly disciplined man and still, upon occasion, surrender to your passionate nature.”
He lifted her chin from where she rested against his heart. “Can you repeat that?”
“I meant that one can be regulated and—“
“No. The endearment.”
“My love.” She punctuated it with a soft kiss on his fingertips.
“That is now the second time you have spoken an endearment for me. I like hearing it.”
“I shall make a point of it, then.”
This statement she emphasized by pressing her mouth to his. Darcy unhesitatingly responded but kept the intensity at a simmering degree. Slowly he released her lips, nibbling several tiny kisses along her chin before resting his forehead against hers.
“My Elizabeth,” he sighed. “If we are to enjoy these moments as they are granted us in the weeks ahead, you must promise to help me remain a gentleman. I have never, in all my years, wanted a woman…physically…as I want you.”
Lizzy knew she was blushing scarlet and thus was glad their eyes were closed. “I promise. As for your…confession…if it is meant to alarm, you have failed. I can only feel joy, and relief, that this is the case.”
Darcy chuckled, his breath caressing her cheek and somehow triggering a series of shivers at random spots on her body. “Thank you for understanding my struggles and my heart. Now”—he kissed the tip of her nose—“in light of the former, despite your promise, I am in a bedchamber with you in my arms. Far too tempting for this fallible human male, no matter how highly disciplined. Nor would it be good for your reputation to be questioned about our isolation. Come.”
Lacing their fingers together, he bent and softly brushed a final kiss to her forehead. He then briskly started for the door. Returning to the library, they found Mr. Bennet steadily weaving his way deeper into the room, apparently unaware they had ever left. Darcy and Lizzy shared a private smile, neither pointing out to Mr. Bennet his dismal failure as a chaperone.
Instead, Lizzy walked directly to the case behind Darcy’s desk and pointed to a miniature Austrian chateau.
“What is the story behind this?”
Smiling, Darcy casually sat on the edge of his desk. Beginning with his first trip to visit his Aunt Mary in Austria, when the tiny chateau was purchased as a souvenir, the afternoon passed in pleasurable storytelling. Only a few were embellished for greater effect and all of them were true. Well, nearly all. Lizzy figured out each time he tried to fabricate an exciting tale.
What was his penance for telling fibs?
A kiss, of course!
~ * ~ * ~
This ends Book One of the Darcy Saga Prequel Duo. The tale of the Darcy and Bennet betrothal period continues in Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope for the Future. Click to next page for more information…..
Darcy & Elizabeth
* * *
Hope for the Future
The final weeks of wedding preparation continue in Book Two of the Darcy Saga Prequel Duo.
Join Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Bingley and Jane Bennet, and all their family and friends as the double marriage ceremony scheduled for November the 28th of 1816 in Meryton, Hertfordshire fast approaches.
Shopping and adventures in London! More “advice” from wise elders! Mr. Darcy’s birthday! Romance! Lizzy and Jane prepare for their new lives and separation! Wedding guests arrive!
Tentative release in eBook and print by Summer of 2014
Keep an eye on Sharon Lathan’s blog and Facebook page for updates!
About the Author
Sharon Lathan is the best-selling author of The Darcy Saga nine-volume sequel series to Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice. Sharon began writing in 2006 and her first novel, Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One was published in 2009. Sharon’s ninth novel was released in March 2014, Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship, the “prequel to the sequel” recounting the betrothal months before the Darcy Saga began. Miss Darcy Falls in Love, Sharon’s seventh novel, was selected as one of the thirty-two titles chosen for World Book Night US 2014.
Sharon is a native Californian relocated in September 2013 to the green hills of Kentucky. She resides with her husband of thirty-years, and grown son. Currently retired from a thirty-year profession as a registered nurse in Neonatal Intensive Care, Sharon is pursuing her dream as a full-time writer.
Sharon is a member of the Jane Austen Society of North America, JASNA Louisville, the Romance Writers of America, the Beau Monde and Hearts Through History chapters of the RWA, and serves on the board of her California RWA chapter, the Yosemite Romance Writers.
Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Page 30