Mr. Darcy's Promise

by Jeanna Ellsworth

  Elizabeth turned her head towards him. “What do you mean?”

  “I foolishly thought that Georgiana’s letter must be yours, that you were secretly writing Wickham. It was not right, but I acted without pausing. I thought that your heart must have belonged to him all along. I was hurt that after all we had built together that it meant nothing to you.” He wanted to say more, to pour out all his anguish and despair, but the look on Elizabeth’s face made him pause in shamefaced embarrassment.

  Elizabeth’s brows knit together. That was hardly a love letter; the threats contained wherein had been quite clear to her. Was William lying to her? But the look on his face said he spoke the truth. He truly believed that she loved Wickham? That she would write without her husband’s knowledge or consent? She opened her mouth to speak, but fell silent at the deep rumble of thunder. Outside, she heard the horses grunt in protest. Rain was gathering in dark gray clouds, piled high on the horizon. Another storm. How will we weather this one?

  “William,” she said, “in case I have not been clear enough, let me be so now. I would never be anything but a faithful wife. But duty aside, William, you are the only man who I have willingly kissed. After our time together— which has been so full of meaning and delight to me— I do not understand how you can believe me capable of such a thing.”

  Her voice showed real pain and confusion and he heard her voice stumble and crack over the last statement, and he was about to kneel at her feet and beg for forgiveness when her phrasing struck him. You are the only man I have willingly kissed. Of course. Of course Wickham would have forced himself upon her. He should have realized that Wickham’s attempt to compromise her was nothing more than a vile scheme on his part. She was forcibly compromised and he suddenly felt a new sense of empathy for what she must have felt that night of the ball. He could only begin to imagine her mortification and grief. Before he could stop himself, he reached out for her, wrapping her in his embrace. “Please forgive my presumption and cruelty, my love. I should never have assumed your motives were anything but pure. I believe that my detest for Wickham has clouded my judgment, and yet that is no excuse, either. I do not have a better explanation that that. Please forgive me.” He pressed a kiss against her dark hair, breathing in the faint scent of lavender.

  Elizabeth felt his lips brush against her hair. She knew he was trying to apologize; she could hear his sincerity and humbleness. As she felt herself relax into him, drawing in the comfort she had needed all morning, things started to mend in her heart. She was in his arms again, feeling his fingers draw circles on the back of her hand. Her heart began to race as it always did when he touched her. Would he kiss her? Her head was not far from his. Her face flushed, but she gathered courage from the familiar powerful sensations that came over her, making her more bold than usual. “I shall only forgive you if you promise me something.” She lifted her head off his shoulder and looked into his deep brown eyes.

  “Anything, dearest Elizabeth. Anything. I feel miserable for not trusting what we have built over our marriage.”

  She gazed up at him, feeling the warmth from his breath. “Two things. First, do not ever assume my feelings again.” She paused.

  He waited for the second request, but realized she was waiting for his agreement to the first. “Absolutely. I will ask your feelings next time and every time after that. I will never assume to know what you are feeling again.” He waited, all the while looking in her beautiful dark brown eyes, for her to make her second request.

  Normally she would have laughed at the excesses of his promise, but right now they were nothing but balm to the sting of earlier wounds. She nodded mutely.

  He brushed his fingertips against her cheekbones. He felt so alive around her; so vibrant, every sense piqued by the closeness of her body. He didn’t know if it was the rain or his heart making that thudding sound. “And what is the second thing? I promise you, Elizabeth, I shall do whatever you want.”

  Part of Elizabeth longed to press her chilled hand to her cheek, dulling the furious heat that burned there. “Kiss me,” she whispered in spite of the wave of embarrassment at such a request. It was not the sort of thing a lady would ask of a gentleman, but she knew now how safe she was with him. She was placing herself in a very vulnerable situation once again and yet she knew this time he would not hurt her. She felt his hand stop caressing hers, and he gazed at her as if drinking in every tiny detail of her face. Then slowly, ever so slowly, he took his arm from around her shoulders and cupped her face with his hands. He remained here for what seemed like several long minutes when instead of leaning into her, he gently guided her face towards his and pressed a soft kiss against her lips once; and then twice more before he exhaled slowly.

  “Elizabeth,” he breathed before he kissed her again and again. It was as if a dam had broken between them.

  She leaned into him, all her anxiety and worry slipping away with the joyful tears that appeared in her eyes. Each kiss seemed an apology for his cruel words. He was kissing her. It no longer mattered that they had been angry at each other. How strange it was that a simple touch could heal the wounds inflicted by sharp words. She reached for him with her own hands, resting her palms against his chest. The skin beneath his waistcoat and shirt felt warm and firm against his sculpted chest. He continued to place kisses on her lips while she eagerly explored his shoulders and arms. She was literally breathless as she realized his intensity in this kiss was even more than in the last. She pulled away slightly to take a breath but was in no way ready to stop. The carriage jolted hard, and she nearly tumbled away before he grabbed her firmly. Their lips separated with the disruption and she felt him sit up straighter. She was fighting to balance herself and knew she had to let go or she would fall right onto him so she sat up and pulled away.

  She was pleased with herself. She had been direct and he had responded; indeed, he had responded exceedingly well. She would have to remember that in the future. She gave him a small smile. It had been a beautiful moment, not just because of the kisses, but because she felt a newness of heart. She felt more for him than she ever had before. More importantly, the pain she felt before was now gone.

  Mr. Darcy still had one hand on her face, using the other to stabilize himself, and with his thumb he traced her lower lip. It was still moist from the kisses. He loved her more than anything, and he had hurt her. But even after all he had said and done to her, she had forgiven him. He was in awe at the elect lady he had in front of him. “I promise. I promise to kiss you anytime you desire.”

  *****

  They planned to ride all the way through Hertfordshire in order to make it to London in good time. Darcy explained to her that he needed to work with his solicitor to be certain that he played his cards right and would fully take advantage of the letters to trap Wickham. It was a very long last day of travel: a full eight hours the first day, and ten the next. As they neared Darcy House, Elizabeth reflected on the two-day carriage ride. They both had slept little, but he had remained on her side of the carriage, holding her with his arm around her most of the time. Although she had been sleepy, the closeness of his person kept her from falling asleep. As before, he procured two rooms at the inn last night and, in spite of the fatty mutton served by the inn, they shared a pleasant evening together. Elizabeth couldn’t wait to share a real meal from the French chef at Darcy House.

  During dinner the night before reaching London, Elizabeth had inquired about Darcy’s plans on the trip to Hertfordshire. “You do plan to be safe, don’t you?” She couldn’t bear the idea of William dueling Wickham. She knew it was still common for gentlemen to have a lack of faith in the court systems. She also had heard that not only did it still happen, but most of the time either one died or was severely wounded, or both. She could not allow that to happen, not to her husband.

  Mr. Darcy said, “Richard feels that he will only be drawn out by me, and that I must make it look as if I plan on paying him.”

  “He really asked for
ten thousand pounds? Is that not your yearly income?”

  “Not quite by half, but this is not as much about the money as it is in trying to hurt me. If he could threaten those I love then he feels he has won. But to help your fears, I do not plan on dueling him. Although I admit I would like the chance . . .”

  Elizabeth gasped. “Do not say things like that!”

  Darcy then explained that Richard felt the letters were enough to convict him for life before he added, “But I do not trust him. His last letter demanded money and stated the militia would only be in town for another two weeks. From the date of the letter, that means I will only have about five days after our arrival in Meryton to get him arrested. He is very smart; devious, in fact. I would not put it past him to have a backup plan in place.” He sat back. “I am grateful Richard was at Pemberley to care for Georgiana because I do not think I could bear leaving her alone and unprotected. Nor you, that is, if you had not stubbornly insisted on coming.” They shared a smile at him calling her stubborn again.

  “How long until Richard must return to his regiment?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not for several weeks. So I should have plenty of time to find Wickham and deliver him to the magistrate. Do not worry, Elizabeth, we have the proof that we require. I simply need to lure him into a meeting and have him believe that I want to meet in order to pay him. It is a simple plan. There is nothing to worry about.” Darcy didn’t feel as confident as he made it sound. Nothing had been simple with Wickham in the past, and he didn’t feel like this would be any different.

  “I do not trust the man in the slightest. His once-charming ways are dishonest to the core, and he enjoys making people uncomfortable. Whether it is making them blush from flattery or making them feel threatened, he enjoys the game. You must promise me you will be safe.” Elizabeth looked at him squarely in the eyes.

  Darcy smiled mischievously, “You are asking me to make quite a few promises lately, Elizabeth.” He saw her blush, obviously remembering their kiss shared in the carriage the day before. His tone became more somber. “And yes, Elizabeth, I promise I will be safe.”

  She had then sat back in silence for the remainder of the journey. Their anxiety was palpable. Although neither one wanted to talk about Wickham anymore, there was little else on their mind.

  As they neared Darcy house, the carriage slowed and Elizabeth couldn’t believe how hungry she was. She placed her hand against her stomach, but was unable to stifle its loud growl. “I am sorry. I fear the mutton was not my favorite and I ate very little.” It was still daylight. Would the cook have time to make something delicious?

  Darcy smiled. “I did not quite enjoy trying to slide large chunks of fat down my throat either. Ah, now that we are here at Darcy House, the cook will be ecstatic that he will be able to cook for you again. You were so generous in your praise last time that I fear Sparks is not the only servant whose loyalty has turned to you.” Darcy exited and handed out Elizabeth from the carriage. He tucked her arm into his as they entered the house.

  Elizabeth recalled her feelings of being on the arm of Mr. Darcy on her wedding day and marveled at how they were so different now. This time she didn’t want to release his arm. She was anxious to show the household how much their relationship had grown.

  Darcy gave instructions to Anderson to take the trunks inside. He then turned to Elizabeth and said, “Shall we?” She nodded and they went up the few steps and entered the house.

  Elizabeth was still in awe of the grandness of Darcy House. Pemberley had impressed her even more thoroughly than Darcy House, but it was here that she got her first taste of what her life would be like, and so it held a special place in her heart. She turned her head to see the butler coming up to greet them. “Good evening, Mr. Taylor,” Elizabeth said with a warm smile.

  “Mrs. Darcy, Mr. Darcy! I was not expecting you, let me take your hat and gloves,” Mr. Taylor said.

  “It will only be for one night, I am afraid,” Darcy explained. “We just have some business before we head back to Hertfordshire. Would you be so kind to notify the chef that we are anxious to see his skills at work. I am afraid the food on the road was difficult to stomach.”

  “Absolutely, sir. Is there anything else?” Mr. Taylor asked.

  Elizabeth spoke up then. “A fire in the library would be nice, and some wine.” She looked up to William for approval. He nodded, gazing down at her, and their eyes locked for a moment. Mr. Taylor’s words faded away. Elizabeth was sure he hadn’t said anything important. She leaned into William further, holding him more tightly than she suspected was appropriate to do in front of a servant. Tomorrow after Darcy met with his solicitor, they would arrive back at Netherfield. She would see her dear Jane again, and her father and mother and sisters too, but tonight it was just the two of them. No morose Georgiana or joking Richard to interrupt them. Since they had not announced their arrival, they didn’t anticipate any visitors. She was beginning to wonder if she should have brought her silk nightgown. Perhaps she would finally get the honeymoon a married couple should have. She blushed at such a thought.

  *****

  To Elizabeth’s disappointment, Mr. Darcy ended up being quite the gentleman and made no attempts to kiss her again. Although her thoughts about having a normal honeymoon were fleeting last night, she was quite relieved that it did not happen. She wasn’t quite sure why she felt reserved; in fact, there were times when she wished he would be more assertive, take her in his strong arms and whisk her off to his room–– but most of the time she feared the unknown. She was unsure about altering the relationship they currently had. What they had built was beyond companionship, beyond friendship, and beyond her hopes. She feared that becoming his wife— in every sense of the word— might alter what she had learned to value so much. Her mind would tell her his kindness would carry over into the bedroom, but her heart would scream at her not to change a thing between them. One moment she would anticipate the change— usually after he touched her and made her body react the way it always did— but the next she worried that he would change once they were together as man and wife.

  Most the time she could convince herself her fears were irrational, but this afternoon, as they neared Netherfield, her fears were allowed to run free. Would Jane notice the changes in her relationship with Mr. Darcy? Or worse, would she ask her about what it was like to be married in an attempt to lessen her own jitters? Elizabeth did not know if she could handle admitting to the absence of intimacy. She was ashamed of it for a reason that she could identify. Perhaps it was because she had never heard of a marriage without physical intimacy. Perhaps it was because everyone assumed it was a normal marriage, and she felt like she was deceiving all of those around her.

  Elizabeth may have worried that Jane would notice too much, but she quickly realized that a good deal of her anxiety lay in the possibility that Mr. Bingley would notice too little. She doubted Mr. Darcy would have revealed any such thing before they left, and she doubted Jane told Bingley the circumstances surrounding their marriage. She closed her eyes and focused on the fact that Bingley was unaware of the uniquely precarious relationship William and she shared. Her stomach tightened into knots as her fears continued to multiply. Her palms were sweating and she felt short of breath. How could she remedy the problem?

  Mr. Darcy had watched Elizabeth grow increasingly anxious over the last two hours. She had shifted her weight, fidgeted unceasingly, wrung her hands, avoided eye contact, and audibly sighed over and over again. The severity of her obvious discomfort only worsened as they entered Hertfordshire. He couldn’t imagine what was bothering her. All kinds of thoughts ran through his head. He wanted so much to help her, but he did not know what was wrong. He felt helpless in watching her distress worsen. He reached for her restless hands, but the moment he touched her, she jumped. He withdrew his fingers and put them in his own lap.

  Elizabeth cast her eyes down to the ground, embarrassed she had flinched from his touch. “I am sorry. I was ju
st distracted and was not expecting you to reach for my hand. It surprised me; that is all.” She reached over and brushed his hand for good measure.

  Darcy knew that was not all. He couldn’t remember her flinching at his touch in quite some time. “If you do not tell me what is bothering you, I think I might just break a promise I made to you.” He watched as her head snapped up, looking quite startled. I had scared her? Why? Her anxiety must be severe indeed if she couldn’t tell he was teasing her. “I meant it when I said that I would not assume what your feelings and thoughts were, and I promised I would not do that. Please Elizabeth, tell me what is wrong. What did you think I meant?”

  Elizabeth did not know what she had thought. Her mind had been so preoccupied thinking about how he had yet to take her to his bed that she hadn’t registered the humor in his words. She knew nothing could be humorous in the state she was in. “Forgive me. It appears I did not hear what you said,” she lied. She had indeed heard him, and her imagination was sensitive at best.

  “Please tell me what is bothering you. Is it seeing your family again? Is it worry about the situation with Wickham? Because, I assure you, I will find him and put a stop to his threats.”

  Elizabeth gazed out at the familiar countryside. She knew she was only a few miles from Netherfield. She took a deep breath to drink in the smell of the place she once called home. Once. Not now. The thought surprised her. She was with William now, and Pemberley was home. As she looked at him, recognizing the depth of the worry in his eyes, she reminded herself that the relationship she did have with him was fragile. She was just as committed to strengthening it as she had been committed to being a good wife. Her mind offered her an ironic reminder that a good wife did not withhold secrets from her husband. She examined his face. She did not want to hurt him, but she was not ready to change the relationship quite yet. She wanted to feel a more natural progression of affection before they shared a room. “I was just wondering . . .” She stumbled on her words. “I was just wondering what Bingley’s plans were for sleeping arrangements.” Some part of her was astonished that she had the strength to say it so openly. She turned her head away from his, but not before she saw the awareness in his eyes.