by C. P. Odom
“I said I did have an unfavourable opinion of him.” Elizabeth smiled, this time without sarcasm. “After only a brief time, I admit I can no longer say that. And, if he continues to earn my good opinion as he has to this point, I shall soon have to abase myself and forgive him completely, though I very loudly and forcefully said I would never do so. It is very embarrassing for such an acute observer of character as I am to admit such lack of resolve.
“And now, Mrs. Bingley, I bid you adieu. I was meeting with the housekeeper to learn what is needed to manage your brother’s household. It would be most embarrassing for such a country upstart to show herself unable to learn what is necessary. Though, I suppose if what you have warned me of today comes to pass, such talents will not be needed since no one will come to call and our invitations will not be answered.”
Elizabeth spoke softly in challenge. “Or, perhaps not. It would not be the first time Miss Bingley has been wrong. Pray give her my regards and extend to her my condolences on the failure of all her schemes to—what was the word? Ah yes, to ensnare your brother. I believe I shall accept your suggestion and add what is needed to my wardrobe without troubling you any further. Good day, Mrs. Bingley. I believe you know the way out.”
She turned her back on Darcy’s sister and left the room, her head high and her back straight. As the door closed behind her, her proud bearing collapsed, and Elizabeth hugged herself tightly, struggling to hold back tears of anger and frustration. She did not care for the way she had lost her temper with Darcy’s sister, but she had been too surprised by Georgiana Bingley’s accusations to act with forbearance.
She sighed. Now she would have to tell Darcy what had happened.
***
“Georgiana told you that?” Darcy exclaimed in anger. “I will not tolerate such an aspersion on your character.”
Elizabeth put a hand on his arm. “Pray do not be upset with your sister, William. Remember, I was very short with her. I am disappointed with the way I behaved.”
“Nevertheless, you reacted only after she made those accusations! I cannot fathom why she would say such things.”
“She was right about how miserable I had made you when I refused your proposal,” Elizabeth said soothingly. “I had no idea of it, but she could not have known that. She only knew how much I had offended you and how helpless she was to give you comfort. It was Miss Bingley who led her to blame me.”
“Miss Bingley!” Darcy snorted.
Elizabeth smiled. “I used to derive considerable amusement watching her throw herself at your head.”
“And I had to tolerate it because Charles was my friend.”
“And he still is your particular friend, and he is married to your sister. Let us not start a quarrel within the family. I suggest you call on your sister, but I want you to promise me to be gentle with her. She thought you had been trapped by a fortune hunter.”
“Fortune hunter?” Darcy snorted. “After the way you refused me at Hunsford?”
“When the love of a sister is involved, sometimes logic becomes victim to emotion.”
“Oh, very well. It shall be as you wish,” he said gruffly, but then he surprised her by pulling her onto his lap and into his embrace. “But there is one condition.”
“You will ruin my hair if you continue, sir,” she said, but she did not struggle and allowed him to pull her against him.
“I care not.” He cleared his throat. “You called me ‘William,’ you know. For the first time.”
“Did I?” Quickly reviewing the conversation, Elizabeth’s eyes opened wide as she looked up at him. “Why, I imagine I did. I did not even realise it.”
“It was the first time, Elizabeth,” he said softly. “And you did it when you were asking for understanding for my sister, who has given more than ample reasons for you to dislike her.”
“I have not yet forgiven you, sir,” Elizabeth said, her lips curved in a slight smile. Then she gasped as she felt Darcy’s hand under the hem of her skirt.
“What, may I ask, are you doing?” she asked archly.
“Preparing to ravish you, my dear. Or, at least, ravish you again.”
“I have always known you to be a man of weak will. It is a burden I must bear now that we are wed. But if I cannot dissuade you—”
“You cannot,” he replied firmly.
“Then might I ask you to take me to your room? Or my own?”
“Well, I could, I suppose, but I do not think it necessary. No one will enter without knocking.”
“That may be,” Elizabeth said, merriment dancing in her eyes, “but would you not prefer to remove my clothing before you have your way with me?”
Darcy smiled. While he knew Elizabeth had derived pleasure from their lovemaking, until their first breakfast together, she had been silent on the subject. He realised he should have expected her lively nature to extend to more intimate settings, and he was pleased to see her taking a more active and mischievous part in that aspect of their union. There was so much still to learn about his lovely Elizabeth.
“It is not necessary, my love,” he said softly, playfully, looking deep into her dark eyes.
“Please, William,” Elizabeth said softly, as she pulled his head down to whisper in his ear, “I like to feel your body against my skin.”
Darcy lost no time. Elizabeth squealed at his impetuous action before burying her face into his shoulder in embarrassment as he carried her out of his study and ascended the stairs. It was not until they were almost at the door to his room that she heard muffled sounds of amusement from a pair of maids.
As Darcy entered and toed the door shut behind him, Elizabeth pulled her head away from his shoulder and looked at him sternly.
“How will I be able to hold my head up in the future?” she scolded, but Darcy only laughed.
“As my father confided in me years ago, the staff is always much happier when the master and mistress demonstrate their affection for each other. He said he often carried my mother to his rooms during the early years of their marriage.”
“Are you devising a story to suit your purpose, sir?” Elizabeth said suspiciously, but Darcy laughed again.
“Do you not trust me, my dear?” he asked with a smile as he laid her on his bed.
“I wonder how many times such an assurance has been given to maidens unwary enough to trust their lovers?”
Darcy did not answer her but only reached around to unfasten the buttons at the back of her gown.
***
A chill in the room brought Elizabeth awake, for it was still dark when she opened her eyes. Blankets enclosed her in a cocoon of warmth, making her exceedingly reluctant to do anything that might expose her bare skin to the cold.
But there was something missing. The source of warmth that always cradled and enclosed her was gone. Darcy was not in bed with her.
They had not left his bedroom since he carried her upstairs, and she had fallen asleep with Darcy holding her close against him in the manner that kept her so marvellously warm through the night. The fire that had heated the room in the early evening was long gone with not even an ember remaining.
However, the moon shone through the windows, illuminating the room sufficiently to see Darcy sitting on the side of the bed with his back towards her. She could also see he was still wearing nothing more than she, and Elizabeth gave an involuntary shiver at the thought of the November chill against his bare flesh.
“William, is anything amiss?”
Her voice obviously startled Darcy, and it was a moment before he answered.
“No, I am merely thinking.”
Elizabeth heard an odd tone to his voice. “Well, come back to bed. You must be freezing.”
Darcy did not reply immediately, and Elizabeth spoke again, this time in a more plaintive ton
e. “William, pray come to bed. I am cold without you.”
This plea had immediate effect, and Darcy quickly complied, sliding under the covers. Elizabeth shivered as she pressed herself against him.
“Your skin is like ice!” she exclaimed.
Elizabeth ignored the chill of his flesh, pressing herself against him in order to warm his body with her own. Lying partially on top of him, she stroked his chest and arms to bring blood to his skin.
It was some minutes before the chill began to dissipate, and Elizabeth felt Darcy begin to react to the way she pressed so urgently against him.
“What possessed you to inflict such discomfort on yourself?”
“Pray stop, please,” Darcy said, placing his hand on her waist, and Elizabeth ceased her enticing movements.
“Have you grown tired of me so soon?” Her tone was light, but she was unsettled by his unusual request. Heretofore, Darcy had taken every opportunity to make love to her, and she felt a pang of anxiety at the thought that his interest might be waning.
Her question brought a snort of laughter from Darcy. “I shall never tire of you, my love. Of that you may be certain.”
Elizabeth’s concern eased at the total sincerity in his voice. Whatever was causing Darcy’s odd behaviour was not related to any diminishing of his attraction to her.
“I have been thinking about what happened—with Georgiana’s visit today and our visit with your aunt and uncle yesterday.”
Darcy’s face was shadowed in the moonlight. And Elizabeth waited for him to go on, but he said nothing for some moments.
“I do not know how to make amends for separating your sister from Bingley,” Darcy said, and Elizabeth did not have to see his face to know how difficult he found these words to say. She could hear the pain in his voice.
“When I suggested your sister join us at Pemberley, I was partly motivated to find some way to atone for what I did. I know now how misguided I had been. Separating them was improper and arrogant—things of which you accused me—and I heartily regret what I did. But no amount of remorse can amend the past. What was done is done. Bingley is married to my sister, and I know you may never be able to forgive me for what I did. And the thought haunts me.”
There was silence in the bedroom for several minutes, and the air grew thick with tension. Elizabeth heaved a great sigh and looked up at Darcy. Moonlight flooded the room, illuminating his features, and he looked so starkly unhappy that she could not resist raising her hand to cup his cheek.
“This cannot continue,” she said, feeling the stiff bristles of his beard against her palm. “There must be an end to it for both our sakes.”
She took a deep breath and continued. “On the day we married, you know I said I would never forgive you. I was adamant in my resolution, determined to keep the fire of my anger alive because of the grievances I had against you.”
“I remember.” Darcy leaned his head into her hand.
“I was wrong,” Elizabeth said flatly. “Worse, I was intolerably stupid. After Hunsford and your letter, I had ample reason to know how mistaken I had been about you, yet I still allowed my anger to overrule my common sense. Well, that will be the last of it.”
She looked up at Darcy. “I hereby declare that what is past is past. All of it. Everything. For my part, I forgive you for all I held against you—for what happened with Jane, for forcing me to marry you—everything. I do not want anything from before we were married to come between us. We must make a pact to build our life together from this point forward without the burdens of the past to encumber us.” Her face was inches from his. “Do you agree?”
Darcy was silent for a moment then said slowly, “I certainly agree with what you say, my darling, but you know me well enough by now to know I will struggle with feelings of remorse. I have no difficulty in believing you will do exactly as you say, but I am afraid I shall occasionally suffer from painful recollections.”
“Pray let it end!” Elizabeth cried passionately. “We both may be wrong about the effects of what you did! I recall something my aunt said to me—that it so often happens a young man may fall in love with a pretty girl for a few weeks, and then, when an accident separates them, one or the other often forgets their affection.
“Had you done nothing to separate my sister and Mr. Bingley, there is no guarantee events would have transpired differently. Mr. Bingley might never have returned to Netherfield, for example. It was my hope and belief he would have done so, and he would have eventually proposed marriage to Jane, but you have ample reason to know I have been wrong before. Grievously wrong. As I was about you.”
Elizabeth moved her hand to the back of Darcy’s neck and pulled his head down to hers. She brushed his lips with her own, tenderly and lovingly, the touch so delicate it might have been made by a butterfly.
“I want to say something that has been growing within me since the first night you took me to your bed but that my anger prevented me from considering. I am grateful—so very grateful—you thought me worthy to continue to love me and to convince my father we should marry. You are an excellent man—the best man I have ever known—and I do not deserve what you have endured to make me your wife.”
“I thought you said we were going to put the past aside,” Darcy said huskily, his hands on her shoulders to pull her on top of him. “I would have suffered much more if I had thought I could win your hand.”
“I stand corrected,” Elizabeth said. “Now, is it agreed that we shall put the unpleasant circumstance of the past aside and remember only those memories that give us pleasure?”
Darcy laughed at these words because it was such an accurate appraisal of Elizabeth’s disposition, and he leaned in to kiss her lightly on the forehead.
“Very well, my love. It will be as you wish.”
“Excellent!” she said firmly; then she looked back at Darcy, her eyes beginning to brighten with merriment. “I do hope you are not going to think me unable to keep any vow at all simply because my promise never to forgive you did not survive a week.”
“I believe I shall take my chances.”
“You have said that before,” murmured Elizabeth, beginning to wriggle atop Darcy with predictable results. “You appear to be a man who is willing to take risks, which is not usually a quality very desirable in a husband, but in your case, I believe I shall make an exception. Now, perhaps we might do something to seal our agreement on this momentous pact.”
“And what would you suggest, my darling?”
“Something special, I think,” she said mischievously.
***
Afterwards, both filled with lassitude, Darcy retrieved the blankets from the foot of the bed and covered them both against the icy chill of the room. Elizabeth was still breathing deeply as she pressed her face into his shoulder. Her hair was not braided for sleep, and she had removed the pins, allowing it to cascade over her shoulders and down her back.
“I adore your hair,” he whispered softly. “I used to think about running my fingers through it when I lay awake at night—”
“William!” Elizabeth said warningly, raising her head from his shoulder.
“Of course, the thought gave me pleasure,” he finished easily, and Elizabeth laughed as she placed her head back on his shoulder.
“That is probably not all you thought about,” she said, teasing him.
“Of course not.”
“Rascal. You are quite brazen and forward, Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“I plead guilty to all charges.”
“Good. I like a husband who knows his place.”
“And I love you, Elizabeth Darcy,” he said softly.
Elizabeth raised her head to look into his eyes. “And I think I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” she said, her voice soft and caressing as she rose to kiss him.
H
e held her fiercely for a moment as the kiss deepened. Finally, he released her and drew back slightly.
“Think?”
“I cannot conceive of being married to anyone but you, but everything is still so new. It has been a little more than a week, and my emotions have never before reached such extremes—both high and low. But I think it must be love I feel. I want to be here. I want you to hold me like this in your bed. I want to give you pleasure and make you laugh. I want to go to your estate in the north and have you show me the gardens you have described so delightfully. And I want to bear your children—which is highly likely, as often as you bring me to your bed.”
“And they will likely all be girls,” Darcy said with a laugh, his heart filled with such joy at Elizabeth’s words that he felt a suspicious prickling at his eyes.
Elizabeth’s fingertip brushed away a tear at the corner of his eye. “I believe we must eliminate the word think from what I just said,” she said gently, and suddenly she was fiercely kissing him, her hands curled around his neck, pulling him against her.
Chapter 17
Here is my heart and I give it to you
Take me with you across this land.
These are my dreams, so simple and few
Dreams we hold in the palm of our hands.
— Loreena Mckennitt (1957–), Canadian musician and composer, Never-Ending Road (Amhrán Duit)
Tuesday, October 22, 1816
Darcy Town House, London
Having previously sent notes to all of his acquaintances, close and middling, Darcy had instructed his butler to have the knocker replaced on his front door after breakfast. Hardly fifteen minutes passed after Darcy House was opened to visitors before the first caller arrived. To Darcy’s complete lack of surprise and Elizabeth’s pleasure, the first visitor was Darcy’s cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam.
“Do you know my habits so well that this precipitate arrival is mere coincidence, or were you waiting across the street, anticipating the knocker?” Darcy asked suspiciously after Fitzwilliam’s effusive congratulations were complete.