Bingley sighed and shook his head. “I know you wish to do this because you are thinking of them, Darcy—because you wish to protect them, and because right now, you hold yourself accountable for failing to do so in this particular instance—but you must truly think of them, my friend, before you decide to react with impetuosity and rashness. The consequences for such actions could be devastating and irreversible, and I doubt very much Elizabeth would appreciate your placing yourself in such jeopardy simply to rid the world of one dishonorable man. Your wife is hopelessly in love with you, you know, in part because you are a man who has always conducted himself with honor and decorum. You can never be anything less.”
Darcy walked to the nearest chair, where he finally allowed himself to collapse, exhausted both physically and emotionally. He could not keep from thinking of his Elizabeth, whom he felt, in his heart, he had failed to protect, just as he had failed to protect Georgiana at Ramsgate. Holding his head in his hands, his shoulders began to shake uncontrollably as the lump in his throat, which he had been fighting against so ineffectually, finally succeeded in forcing its way into his mouth. He felt a warm hand reach out to him, then another, enveloping him in a secure embrace, but, rather than Bingley’s strong grasp, this touch was one of tenderness, love, and complete devotion. Darcy clung to the one person who he knew, beyond a doubt, would offer it.
“Charles is right, you know,” she said quietly. “Georgiana and I would never wish for you to risk your life for the sake of ridding us of such a man, Fitzwilliam, nor would any other member of our family, be they Bennets, Darcys, or Fitzwilliams. I daresay we shall all survive this ordeal without such an impressive display of gallantry, my dear. Too many people depend upon you, my love, and you are far too precious for me to allow you to risk our future together in exchange for some reckless solution to this series of unfortunate dealings with Mr. Wickham. No one is worth that kind of contemplation and sacrifice, especially that man.”
Elizabeth held his head against her breast, clad only in the silk nightshift she had not bothered to change out of or cover, before following the sound of her husband’s anguished voice, raised in anger, to Bingley’s study.
The warm, smoothness of Elizabeth’s flesh, her tender endearments, her soft kisses, the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat, all became a balm for Darcy’s soul. Drawing a shaky breath, he pulled her onto his lap and rested his forehead against hers, closing his eyes as she wiped away the last of his tears. He had never been one to show such a display of weakness and vulnerability—to give way to tears and grief in front of another, no matter what the cause—and he was embarrassed that Elizabeth had borne witness to his utter loss of self-control. He entwined his fingers within her hair and breathed deeply, drawing comfort from her closeness. Her lavender scent almost always had a calming effect on him, although, on many occasions, it was enough of a stimulant to arouse him profoundly. On this night, though, he simply reveled in her consolatory presence.
Darcy sighed against her lips as she brushed them over his. “I love you, Fitzwilliam, so very much,” she whispered as she smoothed her fingers over his hair and stroked the line of his jaw. “Let us think no more on this tonight, my love. Come with me, and we will lose ourselves in each other.”
Bingley had slipped from the room the moment Elizabeth entered. Darcy opened his eyes and pulled his head back just enough to search hers. They were wonderful, dark, liquid pools in which he could easily drown, and he marveled, not for the first time, at Elizabeth’s ability to find strength and courage in the face of such adversity. Without a doubt, this woman was the true mistress of Pemberley, and he thanked God, once again, for his good fortune—not only for allowing him to find her, but for allowing him to recognize her worth enough to overcome his misplaced pride and haughty reserve in order to earn her love and devotion. He returned her kiss and then placed another on her forehead. “My love, I am so very sorry I was not there to protect you from him tonight.”
“Shhh, Fitzwilliam, we are not to speak of it any more tonight, and, indeed, my love, I am in earnest about this,” Elizabeth whispered as she feathered a kiss upon his furrowed brow. She removed herself from his lap and extended her hand. He raised it to his lips to bestow a kiss upon her palm, her wrist, and each finger before lifting it farther still, to cradle against his cheek.
She caressed him, feeling the slight growth of his beard, and tugged against the hand that held her captive. “Come, my dearest, and we will endeavor to make happier memories of tonight.” Without further thought, he followed her into the hall, up the staircase, and to her bedchamber. Elizabeth pushed the door closed and led Darcy to the bed, the very same bed where he had first made her his own not so many weeks before. He closed his eyes against the world as she began to work the intricate knots of his cravat free, his breathing deep and even.
“Elizabeth,” he rasped, “you need not do this.”
“Hush,” she whispered. “I want to.” She pulled the length of silk from around his throat and began to unfasten the buttons on his tailcoat, his waistcoat, and his shirt. She removed each item and dropped them to the floor with very little formality.
Elizabeth turned her attention to the expanse of her husband’s chest, now fully revealed to her discerning eyes and gentle hands. Darcy shuddered when he felt her fingers exploring the contours of his torso. She lowered her mouth to his flesh and placed sensual kisses along his neck and shoulders, gradually, unhurriedly, making her way lower. When she reached his waist, her hands made quick work of the buttons on his trousers as she dipped the tip of her tongue into the slight depression on his stomach. She slid the fabric from his hips, and before Darcy could form a coherent thought, Elizabeth had knelt down to caress his arousal with her lips, her tongue drawing slow, wet circles over his flesh.
A low moan escaped from the back of his throat as Elizabeth’s warm mouth enveloped him fully. His fingers tangled in her thick mass of curls. It was almost effortless for Darcy to lose himself in her—in her eyes, in her body, in her very existence. It had always been so. Even in the lonely, confusing weeks that preceded their courtship, when even a chaste kiss upon her hand was never an option, Darcy had adopted a nightly ritual of escaping the trials and tribulations of his mundane existence by submersing himself in private musings and forbidden fantasies about the only woman he had fallen in love with.
Elizabeth’s fingertips brushed his hips and his thighs. The glorious curls crowning her head tickled his flesh. The sensations she elicited were potent, almost overpowering in their intensity, and Darcy began to fear for his self-control as he surrendered to the bliss of her ministrations. He opened his eyes, and his breath caught as he was overtaken by the exhilaration of watching his wife, still clad in her nightshift, kneeling before him in such a manner. He groaned as a wave of raw passion swept through him. Elizabeth’s eyes turned up to meet his, and in an instant, Darcy pulled her to her feet, his mouth devouring her lips as his hands traveled over her body, leaving her skin hot and tingling, as though she were on fire. He struggled to untie her shift, his fingers fumbling with the ribbons, until, with a sound of frustration, Elizabeth nudged aside his hands and released them herself. She took a step back, and their eyes locked as the shift fell away to reveal her curves, pooling in a puddle of ivory upon the floor.
Darcy closed his eyes, fighting for command of his body, which, at that moment, desperately wanted to ravish this bewitching seductress. Elizabeth must have sensed his urgency, because she reached out and entwined her fingers with his, which were trembling with his efforts. He gripped her hand tightly, as though afraid she would somehow slip away from him. He felt her full breasts brush against his chest as she leaned toward him, pushing him back upon the bed, and inhaled sharply.
Elizabeth climbed atop him, dragging her body along his frame, moaning as his arousal brushed against her. She was about to take him into her, when Darcy rolled them over, showering her lips and face with kisses while his hands found their way to her breasts,
his thumbs teasing her nipples, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her. His hands continued to roam over her curves, exploring, tantalizing her flesh. When Elizabeth moaned his name, Darcy let out a strangled sob of longing, alerting her to the urgency of his need.
“Fitzwilliam,” she gasped, “I need you. I need to feel you. Please. Now.”
Her words, spoken so quietly, yet with a commanding insistence that only served to further inflame his desire for her, penetrated the last fragments of Darcy’s self-restraint, granting his body permission to take action over the more tender sentiments of his heart and mind. He slid into her depths with a shuddering cry that drew forth an identical response from Elizabeth as their bodies began to move together in a rhythm that heightened the intensity of his pleasure. His movements soon grew frenzied.
It was not long before Elizabeth was soaring toward her completion.
Darcy felt her muscles tightening around him as he buried himself within her, time and again, deeper and deeper, until, finally, with a loud cry, he suddenly felt one of the most powerful releases he had ever experienced.
They did not speak, but lay together, hands and bodies entwined, rapid breathing slowing, frantic heartbeats calming, the silent reassurance of the other’s presence enveloping them. Darcy bestowed a lingering kiss upon his wife’s forehead as he closed his eyes, exhaustion finally claiming them at last.
Chapter 26
Lydia, you are insufferable! Surely, you must see the danger and impropriety of indulging in such disgraceful behavior with a dangerous scoundrel! You permitted him to take outrageous liberties with you that many respectable married women will not even allow their husbands, and you were in public! Have you no shame at all?” Elizabeth found Lydia’s refusal to see the error of her ways regarding her scandalous conduct with Wickham the night before infuriating. To further inflame her anger, Lydia merely turned her back to her sister and sulked.
Jane’s approach was more sedate. “Lydia, you must understand that with your lack of fortune, your virtue and reputation are all you have to recommend you to a respectable gentleman. You cannot continue to conduct yourself in such a degrading manner with a man like Mr. Wickham. Surely you must know by now he cannot be respectable if he insists on taking advantage of you in such a way and encourages you to bestow your favors upon him. Your scandalous behavior not only reflects poorly upon your own reputation as a respectable young lady, but that of your dear sisters, as well. By indulging in such sinful behavior, especially with a man of questionable character, you are greatly lessening the probability of Mary and Kitty making prudent marriages. Even if you are not concerned with your reputation, you must at least consider those of poor Mary and Kitty.”
“Lord, Jane, you sound just as droll as Mary when she is reading from Fordyce!” exclaimed Lydia. “I cannot see how I have done anything so very wrong. I daresay no one would have been the wiser had Lizzy not stuck her nose into my affairs last night instead of minding her own business like she ought. I am heartily disappointed in you, Lizzy, for turning out to be so disloyal and hypocritical!”
Elizabeth stared at her with incredulity. “Whatever do you mean by saying I am hypocritical? That is hardly a term I would associate with myself in any case, particularly in such an instance as this! And certainly, Lydia, you must know my loyalty must lie with preserving the respectability of my family, not with the utter degradation of it!”
“Lord!” Lydia snorted. “That is certainly rich coming from you, pretending to be so high and mighty now that you are a married woman. But admit it, Lizzy, you cannot, in all honesty, say you appreciated Mr. Collins’s bothersome interference in your amorous encounters in the garden with Mr. Darcy. I would have thought that, after all the scandalous things he told Sir William about your behavior before you were married, that you would have had far more compassion for me and my dear Wickham. Do not deny it, Lizzy, for everyone in Meryton knows you surrendered your virtue to Mr. Darcy long before you exchanged your vows with him in church.”
“How dare you, you insolent, ungrateful little—”
Elizabeth’s uncharacteristic shouts resonated throughout her father’s house, startling servants and sending members of the family rushing toward Lydia’s bedchamber with surprising alacrity. The first to reach them was Darcy. He threw open the door with a thud and entered the room with an expression of alarm. He was stunned to see his elegantly dressed wife lunging toward her youngest sister while Jane struggled to hold her at bay. Lydia was in the midst of hollering something especially appalling in reference to the size of Darcy’s fortune and Elizabeth’s willingness to bed him before they were married. Darcy’s jaw dropped open.
“I swear I shall strangle you for your vulgarity, Lydia!” Elizabeth yelled as she finally succeeded in shoving Jane out of the way. Lydia jumped back, and Darcy bolted forward, seizing his wife around her waist. With very little effort, he managed to carry her flailing form to the other side of the apartment. “Unhand me this instant, Fitzwilliam!” she commanded. “I must throttle my impudent sister before I regain my senses!”
Lydia stuck out her tongue and laughed. “Ha! I’d like to see you try, Lizzy!”
In an effort to escape, Elizabeth elbowed Darcy in the ribs, hard. Rather than gaining her freedom, however, she succeeded only in ensuring her continued captivity, for her husband responded to her act of aggression against his person by throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her, kicking and screaming, out of the room. They passed an incredulous Mr. Bennet on the stairs, who very wisely gave them a wide berth, his look of complete astonishment soon giving way to amusement as he watched the staid master of Pemberley struggle with his daughter.
Darcy stalked into the first room he encountered, which happened to be his father-in-law’s library, and slammed the door behind him. He turned the key and then pulled it from the lock. Only then did he release his wife. He deposited her onto a chair by the fire and stood before her, his breathing hard, his hands curled into fists upon his hips. “Pardon my language, madam, but what the hell was that display abovestairs?” he demanded. “You are the mistress of Pemberley and with child! You are not to conduct yourself in such a disgraceful manner!”
He began to pace, one hand raking through his hair. “For God’s sake, Elizabeth! What if you had injured yourself or the baby? And over what? Some ignorant piece of idle nonsense your sister spews forth from her accursed mouth?” He made an inarticulate sound of disgust and threw himself into the chair next to the one she was occupying. Rubbing his aching ribs, he growled, “You need not have taken your fury out on me, Mrs. Darcy. It was most underhanded of you, not to mention unsportsmanlike. I shall expect far more respectful treatment from you in the foreseeable future, madam, effective immediately.”
Elizabeth, her arms crossed over her breast, merely scowled before turning away her head. After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, she ventured a glance at Darcy, who was still staring at her. Several more minutes passed in much the same manner before she finally forced herself to say, with some small degree of contrition, “I am sorry I injured you, Fitzwilliam. It was certainly not my intention. I hardly know what has come over me this morning, except to say I have simply not felt like my normal self as of late.” She expelled a breath of air and drummed her fingers upon the arm of the chair. “My aunt Gardiner mentioned to me that sometimes a woman may experience some inexplicable alterations in her mood and temperament when she is expecting a child.”
Rising from his chair, Darcy rolled his eyes and mumbled, “Apparently,” in a particularly bitter tone as he walked over to the nearest window, where he stared at the road for some time. Before long, there was a knock upon the door. Lost in his own contemplations and forgetting for the moment he was not in his study in Town, Darcy called out, “Come.”
Elizabeth raised a speculative brow.
He was startled back into reality, however, when he heard Mr. Bennet’s amused voice say from the other side of the door, “How grac
ious of you, Darcy, to grant me admittance to my own sanctuary! However, I currently find myself unable to take you up on your generosity, as you seem to have taken it upon yourself to lock me out of my library, sir!”
Darcy strode to the door, inserted the key, and turned the lock. His face was flushed by the time his father-in-law entered and appraised him with a look not dissimilar to the one Elizabeth was currently leveling at him. “Forgive me, sir. I seem to have forgotten myself. I hope my actions have not unduly offended you,” he mumbled, properly humbled.
Mr. Bennet raised a brow. “No, not at all, sir, not at all.” With a pointed look at his daughter, he said wryly, “I daresay you have quite a bit on your plate at the moment, Darcy. My Lizzy, when provoked, can truly be a fearsome sight, can she not?”
Darcy hazarded a glance at his wife, who appeared to be far from amused by her father’s comment. “Yes, sir,” he said dryly, “quite fearsome.” Then, with a flicker of a smile and a wink at Elizabeth, he said, “However, I believe she is now my Lizzy, and I would not give her back again for all her fearsome behavior this morning.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes, and Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Wisely said, young man, wisely said.” He turned toward his daughter then, his manner grave. “Now, Mrs. Darcy, I can imagine I need not tell you how thoroughly disappointed I am with your behavior. I understand your fury with Lydia for behaving in such a scandalous manner with Mr. Wickham, my dear. Indeed, I would like nothing better than to get my hands on that scoundrel and throttle him to within an inch of his life; however, such conduct as you have shown this morning toward your sister, no matter what disgraceful bit of vulgarity she may have uttered in order to get a rise out of you, is quite unbefitting of a lady, especially a lady of your current standing in society. I do not doubt your husband has already communicated his displeasure on the subject, so I will not bore you with any further commentary, except to say I never want to see such an appalling display in my house again.”
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 28