A Covenant of Marriage

by C. P. Odom

  Darcy waved a hand dismissively. “It is what one does for relations. Douglas and I are friends of long standing. He is rather unusual since he is both a physician and a surgeon.”

  “No one I know has been treated by a physician. They treat only the very wealthy, do they not?”

  “Usually, but it is probably incorrect to describe what they do as treating. As a gentleman, a physician considers it beneath him to examine a patient, much less to cure him. He talks to a patient, listens to what they say about their ailments, and then recommends what should be done, which is then carried out by either surgeons or apothecaries. And they expect their payment to be made discreetly since a gentleman does not labour like a tradesman.”

  Darcy snorted in derision and then continued. “Which may explain why the rich often succumb to some minor malady when their tailors survive the same affliction quite handily. But Douglas is a rarity. He both read medicine at Cambridge—he has the certification from the Royal College of Physicians to prove it—and also trained as a surgeon, and at one time, he served in the military. I do not allow my friends and family to consult anyone else if I can help it.”

  Elizabeth looked at Darcy in surprise for she had been completely unaware of anything he had just told her. For the first time, she had a glimmer of understanding that Darcy had spent much of his time in a world completely different from her own and she might benefit from his knowledge.

  “For what you are doing for my father, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. He has failings, I know, but I love him dearly.”

  “You are quite welcome, but let us see whether Douglas can do anything. As he has told me more than once, he is haunted by the fact that, as much as he has learned, it is minuscule compared to what he does not know.”

  “Nevertheless, it was very considerate of you to ask him to journey to Longbourn.” Then she cocked an eye at him. “You are trying very hard to change my opinion of you, are you not?”

  Darcy shrugged and smiled at her. “I have the best reason in the world to do so.”

  Elizabeth was rather taken aback at the effect this simple statement had on her. She found it quite difficult to contend with the depth of feeling Darcy displayed. Not only was it disconcerting since she would not have previously believed him capable of such intense feelings, it also made it impossible to keep the flame of her anger burning brightly.

  It was several moments before Elizabeth could trust her voice to reply, and she tried to keep it light. “Well, if you continue in this manner, sir, my head will swell to such prodigious proportions that you will be trading one problem for another.”

  Darcy laughed. “As I said previously, I suppose I shall have to take my chances. But now, since I find myself somewhat in your good graces, I wonder whether I might ask you to play for me?”

  Elizabeth looked at him curiously. “Certainly, sir, if it is your wish, but I remember Miss Bingley saying your sister’s skill on the pianoforte was exquisite. In truth, you must be used to hearing a better performance than I can deliver.”

  “Perhaps, but I enjoyed hearing you play. You were likely unaware of it since I was determined to keep my feelings hidden, but I made a point of listening whenever I could. I remember the first time was at a party hosted by Sir William Lucas.”

  “I cannot remember it very clearly,” Elizabeth said slowly. “It was a long time ago.”

  “You and your friend Miss Lucas were talking to me when she led you to the pianoforte. That was, incidentally, the first time I asked you to dance.”

  “I remember now. And I also remember I refused you,” Elizabeth said with a rather uneasy laugh.

  “Politely, but yes, you did.”

  “I had no idea you listened to me play.”

  “I did though I had to hide the fact from Miss Bingley. But now, if I might conduct you to the instrument?”

  Elizabeth somewhat unwillingly took Darcy’s arm as he stood and came around his desk. She played for more than an hour before dinner, and she blushed prettily at Darcy’s compliments on her performance and singing. She knew she had improved since he had last heard her; she had had a great deal of time to practice, after all. But still, he seemed to enjoy her performance even more than could be accounted for by her enhanced skills. It was all rather unnerving.

  However, thinking back on the day since she had come downstairs, Elizabeth thought it a good omen that they had been able to persevere through at least half a day without a dispute.

  ***

  The sun was hours from setting when Elizabeth put down her book with a sigh and looked over at Darcy. They were reading in his library, but she had become increasingly conscious that Darcy seemed unable to concentrate on his own book and was stealing looks at her over the top of it.

  “Mr. Darcy!” she said sharply.

  Darcy jumped and smiled guiltily as though his mother had caught him stealing sweets from the cook.

  “Yes, Elizabeth?”

  “You are not reading your book. In fact, you are holding it upside down.”

  Darcy gave a start and looked at the book in his hands. “I believe you are teasing me. It is not upside down.”

  “It might as well be for all the progress you have made,” she said with a light, tinkling laugh. “You have only read a few pages, and you have had to turn back to the previous page several times. One would think you wish to be doing something else.”

  “One does,” he said with a growl, looking at her with mock ferocity. “Reckless things, uncivilised things—starting with throwing you over my shoulder and climbing the stairs.”

  “I thought as much,” she said softly. “Would you care to retire a bit early? Right now, in fact?”

  She saw the sudden eagerness in his eyes dissolve as she watched him seize control of himself. She knew he was being careful again, cautious lest he provoke her by precipitous action.

  “It is still early, and we have not yet had supper.”

  She set her book on the table beside her chair and stood. “I shall come to you in a half-hour, sir,” she said calmly. “It will not be necessary to carry me over your shoulder. Though it is a thought for another time, is it not?”

  And, with a swirl of her gown and a saucy smile over her shoulder, Elizabeth vanished into the hall, leaving Darcy looking after her with his mouth open and thinking that, if he lived to be a hundred, he would never understand this complex creature he had married.

  ***

  Darcy was standing by the window, looking out over the city, when Elizabeth entered his room. His action as he turned was meant to be slow and deliberate, but she was easily able to detect his eagerness. She hid a smile as she crossed the room to him, and even if she had been rather abrupt with him in the library, she could not deny she rather enjoyed the way his eyes instantly focused on her. She was wearing one of the enticing nightgowns her aunt Gardiner had given her, and she knew it showed her figure to its best advantage.

  “Good evening, sir,” she said calmly.

  The top of her head barely came to his chin, and his dark gaze was intent as he looked down at her, eyes filled with admiration.

  “Do you not have a glass of wine for me tonight?” she asked playfully.

  “Oh, to be sure,” Darcy said. “It will be just a minute—where is a glass—ah, there it is. Let me pour it for you.”

  “Pray, sir,” she laughed. “Take your time. I am not going anywhere, after all. Not dressed as I am, definitely.”

  Or as undressed as I am, she thought in amusement. The material is much thinner than my usual nightgowns, and it clings to my figure. But from the way he is looking at me, my husband truly likes it, and if I am to spend the rest of my life with this man, it will be easier if he is attracted to me.

  Her quip seemed to calm Darcy. “I imagine I am being a little overeager,” he said.<
br />
  “Perhaps a little, but it is still flattering.”

  “You are so very beautiful, Elizabeth,” he said, and his simple honesty still made her a bit uncomfortable. But the events of her first night of marriage had convinced her of the forthright sincerity of such comments from this man she had married, so she resolutely vowed to put aside discomfort even as her playfulness came to the fore.

  “Thank you, sir, but remember what I said about the size of my head.”

  Darcy smiled and handed her the glass of wine. She took a sip and nodded in approval, for it was an excellent vintage. He motioned her to sit on the sofa, and she thought for a moment before sitting down in the centre. Darcy looked at her for a moment before carefully sitting beside her. They were so close that their hips touched. He raised his arm and placed it along the top of the sofa, and Elizabeth leaned against him, resting her head on his chest.

  She felt his uneasiness, and she laughed softly, looking up at him so he saw her dark eyes through her long lashes.

  “Come, come, Mr. Darcy, you must relax. I rather like the man I spent the night with yesterday. I may still be angry with you, but I am not stupid enough to poison our relationship in your bedroom because of my anger.”

  “Ah yes, I see. I think.”

  Elizabeth laughed in true delight. “But you will never understand women, am I correct?”

  “Not if my life depended on it,” he said fervently.

  “Nor will I understand men, as I am just starting to learn. Now, pray relax, sir.”

  He lowered his arm and put it around her shoulders.

  “Much better,” she said, turning her head so she could sip her wine.

  “Your gown tonight—today, rather—is quite alluring. I do have to confess that it raises feelings that are somewhat…ah…primitive.”

  “More so than the one I wore last night?” Elizabeth said, smiling. “It was a gift from my aunt Gardiner.”

  “A woman of exquisite taste. I appreciate her sense of fashion.”

  “Alas, it is not very practical.”

  “That depends on what you might wish to accomplish. If you were trying to get me to take you to bed, for example…”

  “I take your point, sir,” Elizabeth said with a soft laugh. Then she looked up at Darcy seriously. “I am still angry with you, you know. What happened last night does not change what you did.”

  “Of course not. I understand perfectly.”

  Elizabeth looked at Darcy sharply, but he simply took a sip of his wine and looked back at her with feigned innocence.

  “Are you mocking me?” she said sharply, her suspicions roused.

  Darcy looked at her thoughtfully for several seconds. “Perhaps a bit,” he admitted, and he had the grace to look a little shamefaced. “But I believe I do understand. Yesterday was extremely upsetting. I knew beforehand that it would be, and I should have much preferred to do things differently.”

  “Then why did you do it?”

  “You know why, Elizabeth. I was desperately unhappy. I could not get you out of my mind, yet I was totally certain you were unattainable. I would have suffered your anger for as long a period of time as needs be and considered the cost well worth the prize.”

  Elizabeth looked at him intently. “Someday I must find out how you and my uncle became so close that he would act as your second in this affair.”

  Darcy opened his mouth to say something, but Elizabeth shook her head quickly and held up a hand. “Not tonight, Mr. Darcy. Now is not the time, and my nerves are still uncertain. We shall discuss the matter later.”

  Elizabeth was silent for a few moments. Although she knew what she wanted to say, she did not know how to say it. Nothing in her life had given her any examples of how husbands and wives talked about such private matters.

  “Mr. Darcy, about what happened last night,” she said slowly, thinking of each word carefully. “I must tell you I am…grateful for your patience and…your tenderness with me. I had no idea what to expect, and—”

  “You expected to be ravished,” Darcy said, his smile warm but rather crooked. “I am still struggling to learn how to talk about such intimacies myself, even to a wife, but I know you expected me to throw you on my bed and have my way with you. After which you would flee back to your room until the next time.”

  Elizabeth looked at him wide-eyed, and only the exertion of considerable effort allowed her to mumble, “Well, yes, to be truthful. My mother…that is, I had—”

  Darcy took her hand. “I dare say your notion might well have been correct with some men—I am sorry to say. I hope I would never have been so thoughtless, but I must confess that my parents did little to prepare me to be a good husband. They were good people, but they, like most of my class, were more concerned with social position and wealth when choosing a wife. They taught me to feel similarly and to care for none beyond my own family circle.

  “You were correct when you challenged me at Hunsford, calling me selfish and uncaring. I was unaware of how I had acted, and it took your rejection to force me to examine myself and correct my behaviour. I was humbled and very properly so. But even if I learned from your harsh instruction, I also knew you had despised me and held me in contempt. I knew you had been right and believed you still held the same opinion, which meant I could never win your hand. But I could not forget you, which led to my visit to Longbourn yesterday.

  “Last night, I was determined that your first memories of our life together would not be marred by my selfishness, and when you say I was tender with you, it is a great compliment. I shall not forget it.”

  Elizabeth was stunned by this revelation. It was probably the longest speech Darcy had ever made to her, and she never would have believed he would reveal so much of himself to anyone—even his wife.

  She never imagined her words at Hunsford could make such an impression on the cold, selfish, proud, and arrogant Mr. Darcy of Pemberley. But now, it was shockingly clear that those descriptions of his character had not been true—or at least, no longer were true—for he had undeniably changed, and greatly so. To what extent was still to be determined, but she had learned enough to feel a certain cautious optimism.

  “What manner of man have I married?” Elizabeth whispered.

  “One who loves you beyond measure,” Darcy said, his voice hoarse. He raised her hand and turned it so he could softly kiss her palm.

  Elizabeth had a sudden remembrance of the previous night as the soft touch of his lips on her skin reminded her of his burning kisses all over her body.

  “What am I to do?” she cried, trying and failing to pull her hand back. “I should be angry with you, I want to be angry with you, I am angry with you, and yet—”

  “And yet?” Darcy asked gently.

  “You were correct at Longbourn.” She sighed. “It is not in my nature to be continually vexed, and I realise you and I must learn to live without conflict in this marriage despite the tumultuous nature of its beginning.”

  “Considering our past, I think it a good first step.”

  They sat silently for several minutes, but it was not the tense silence of the trip from Longbourn. It was more companionable, even relaxed.

  Elizabeth looked up at her husband. “Mr. Darcy, if my aunt’s gown has done its job, do you not think it is time to take me to bed?”

  “Yes, Elizabeth.”

  “I do like an obedient husband.”

  Darcy laughed and took her wineglass to place it beside his own. Then he rose and effortlessly lifted her in his arms.

  “If you continue in this way, I am sure I shall become quite dizzy,” she said as he again carried her across the room.

  “I am sure you shall grow used to it, my dear,” he said, depositing her carefully on the bed.

  He removed her slippers, then too
k off his light robe and tossed it on a chair. He wore only a pair of what appeared to be loose silk trousers secured at his waist with a draw-string. He was bare chested, and Elizabeth had never before seen a man without his shirt. The previous evening, it had been dark, and she had the benefit of touch but not sight.

  “Married life appears to present more new and varied sights and experiences than I anticipated,” she mused, as he climbed into bed and lay down beside her. She rolled over on her side facing him and reached out, running her hand lightly over the dark, curly hair on his chest. “I had no idea that you would not be smooth skinned like me.”

  Darcy reached out to run his hand lightly over the curve of her hip before moving to explore her perfectly curved bottom.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes at his touch, marvelling at the changes that had come over her in such a short time.

  Just yesterday, I thought his touch would be totally repugnant. Instead, in just a single day, I now find it exciting in a manner I never dreamed possible. I want my husband to touch me. How can this be possible? Is it the same for all women?

  She laid her head back on the bed contentedly as Darcy’s touch moved delicately up the line of her back to the bare flesh of her shoulders, and she waited expectantly as his head lowered until his face was very close to hers. Their lips touched, and this time she returned his kisses—inexpertly, untutored, but willingly.

  She put an arm around his back, pulling him towards her. Darcy continued to place soft kisses on her cheeks, on the pert curve of her nose, and on each eyelid—before moving over to her ear.

  “Oh yes,” she whispered, and she could not repress a shiver as his tongue outlined her ear. She arched her neck, making it more accessible, and he accepted the unspoken invitation, using his teeth to nibble ever so lightly on the lobe of her ear before planting soft kisses down the slim line of her elegant neck. When he got to its base, she expected him to turn her head to do the same to the other side. Instead, he moved downward until he kissed the upper slopes of her breasts revealed by her nightgown.