Darcy ripped it from her hand and tossed it without ceremony into the waiting barouche. Some of the guests who witnessed the exasperated roll of his eyes were laughing. He bowed curtly to his motherin-law, and handed Elizabeth into the coach. Darcy accepted a hearty slap on the back from Bingley, and a kiss on the cheek from Jane. “See you at Christmas!” “Write often, Lizzy!” “Thank you for everything, Charles!” “Thank your sisters, Charles!”
Georgiana worked her way forward. “Good bye, Sister! Good bye, Brother!”
Darcy hugged her quickly. “You will join us in three weeks? At Pemberley?”
She nodded, smiling. “This Christmas will be the best ever, I just know it!”
Darcy entered the coach, and Mr. and Mrs. Darcy left Netherfield. The last they heard from the waving throng was Mrs. Bennet crying, “Mr. Bennet? Oh, where is Mr. Bennet?”
Elizabeth and Darcy laughed.
Although Elizabeth sat on the ladies’ side and Darcy sat opposite, he leaned forward and reached for her hands. They rode knee-to-knee, hands joined, and chuckled over their observations of the various wedding guests. Elizabeth commented that she thought the Pemberley strawberries would make a fine jam. They were soon at Longbourn.
Mr. Bennet was on the porch to meet them. When they disembarked and joined him, he said, “Now I do feel quite spoilt to have the newlyweds all to myself. Lizzy, look at your glorious coat! Does not your wife look like royalty, Mr. Darcy?” He caught Darcy’s eye merrily. “Lizzy did not leave this house with that!”
“No, indeed, Papa! It is a gift from Georgiana. Is it not splendid? I think it much too grand for me, but Mr. Darcy says not!”
“I am afraid my gift is not so grand. You see the footmen loading a hamper of food into the storage box of the carriage?”
They turned to watch. “You have not eaten, the pair of you, have you? You must, so there is a picnic for you to enjoy on the road. It may be the only time you feel like eating today. I know you would not willingly starve my daughter, Mr. Darcy, but she might accidentally starve herself. I fear her mind is occupied with other things, which might render her less than her usual eupeptic self.” This was the only reference he had ever made in her hearing to the coming wedding night and her concerns. Indirect though the remark was, she still blushed.
“Come inside. Do you need to freshen yourself, Lizzy, before you depart?” Mr. Bennet waved his hand airily towards the downstairs washroom as if Elizabeth were a new guest.
“I do, Father, but I shall step upstairs.”
Darcy and Mr. Bennet looked at each other for an explanation that neither could supply. They did not notice the white lace bonnet she held away from their eyes.
The men entered the library. “Darcy, I apologise for my wife’s behaviour. She has never been as fond of Lizzy as a mother ought to be, but I cannot account for the misery she made today.”
“Every wedding has its stories, so I am told. Do not worry yourself, sir.”
“Your equanimity will stand you in good stead in this family.”
“Did I hear a rumour, Mr. Bennet? Is Mrs. Wickham with child?”
“Yes, her mother has so informed me and begins to make plans to travel northward when the time comes.”
“If you do not wish to join her, you, and Mary or Catherine, or all of you, will be most welcome at Pemberley, or in town, if we are there for some part of the season.”
Mr. Bennet was delighted. “That is one invitation I shall accept. Thank you, Darcy, thank you! Write to me. I do not promise a prompt response, but I shall read what you write with great interest when it involves either my Lizzy or any new books arriving in the Pemberley library.”
“Very good, sir! I shall.”
They heard Elizabeth’s light step descending the stairs.
“Have my two dearest men been entertaining each other?”
“I have just invited your father to join us, wherever we are, when your mother travels north for Lydia’s confinement.”
Elizabeth looked shocked, first at her father and then at her husband. “This is indeed news, though I cannot think why I am surprised.”
Darcy sputtered, “I only learnt it through overhearing at the breakfast, Elizabeth. Clearly, you were not told?”
Elizabeth raised a sardonic eyebrow. “It is a wonder my mother did not further demean this day by announcing it and ordering us to drink to the happy news.” All three sighed.
“Let us not think of that couple. It will be nothing to me, for I am invited to visit my favourite daughter for the duration of the madness. Well, well, Lizzy, I am sure you and Mr. Darcy are anxious to be off. And I? I must return to Netherfield to observe Jane’s nerves and Mr. Bingley’s aggravation of them.”
Once outside, Elizabeth stood looking at the carriage with the Darcy crest on its doors. She turned to her father with unsettled emotions and hoped she would not cry. Her two previous carriage rides with Darcy had been of short duration, but now they would be alone for hours on end. What will we say to each other for so long?
Mr. Bennet could read her distress. “All will be well, Lizzy.” He kissed her forehead as he had since she was a child, filling her with strength.
Darcy watched from the door of the carriage as she said her goodbyes. From a distance of twenty feet, he could sense her disquiet. Her father kissed her; she stood up straight and lifted her chin to face her husband and her new world. It is not me she fears, Darcy reminded himself, it is the unknown.
***
Elizabeth watched her father recede until she could see him no more and stopped waving. She sat back on the ladies’ side of the coach, gazing at Darcy. Would he change sides now? Would he come to her?
He was sitting where he could watch the view, and did not look at her. Can I keep myself in check until we reach London? If I sit next to her, I shall kiss her, and if she responds, I shall not stop. She is my wife. At long last, Elizabeth Bennet is my wife.
“Fitzwilliam?” she said encouragingly. “Will you join me?”
He blinked at her, trying to scatter his lustful daydreams. “Elizabeth, are you cold? Here…” He pulled a wicker bin from under his seat from which he selected one of several folded lap robes.
Elizabeth took it with a confused expression. “I am not too cold. But I thought you might wish to be more…companionable.”
Agitated, Darcy took off his hat and shrugged out of his great coat. “No, I thank you, but I am not cold.”
Indeed, you are flushed, sir.
Elizabeth could not withhold the exasperation she feared was creeping unbidden into her voice. “Why do we speak of being cold, when neither of us is?”
He finally met her gaze. “If I sit next to you, we shall hold hands, I shall kiss your hands, I shall kiss you, and who knows where it will lead?”
Elizabeth started to laugh but saw a certain pleading look in his eyes. She said calmly, “Where is the lauded Darcy self-control? Is all or nothing our only choice?”
“Do you really wish to be deflowered in a carriage, Elizabeth, as no doubt your sister was?” Like Elizabeth, Darcy heard the edge of petulance in his voice.
“Mr. Darcy!” She could not believe what she was hearing. “How could…? Why would you say such a shameful thing? To me…now?” Is he angering me on purpose? Is he unnerved, too? She fiercely balled her hands into fists, her nails impressing her palms.
Darcy saw some violent urge flicker across her face. He instantly regretted his words but felt he would regret it more if her first experience of marital relations was a ravishment in their carriage. He had longed to finally be alone with her, to possess her, but now felt barely under restraint. How have I let it come to this?
He had no answer, sighed, and turned to look at the Hertfordshire countryside. He had blundered this, the very start of their married life. Elizabeth slid to the opposite corner of the coach. He ventured a sidelong glance, and saw disappointment writ plain in her rigid posture.
What should I do? Darcy gave the app
earance of calm as he raced through memories and dreams of Elizabeth, hoping for a clue.
Chapter 16
Darcy’s Dreams
“But masters, remember that I am an ass.”
William Shakespeare
Much Ado about Nothing
When did I first dream of her?
When Fitzwilliam Darcy first dreamt of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, it was a fleeting vision. It happened the night following Elizabeth and Jane’s departure from Netherfield after Jane’s illness. During the visit, Darcy and Elizabeth engaged in several debates touching on numerous issues. Each left Darcy more intrigued. As her visit came hard on the heels of the Meryton assembly where Elizabeth had heard her feminine attributes roundly disparaged by Darcy, she was disposed to take offense and find fault, both with the man and his every utterance. At the time, Darcy did not apprehend her response to him as annoyance.
Darcy was merely enticed when he came upon Elizabeth as she approached Netherfield on foot. She had walked three miles at a vigorous rate. Her hair was nearly falling to her shoulders, her cheeks glowed, and her eyes were flashing. That evening, after Jane was asleep, Elizabeth stumbled upon him in the billiard room, mistaking it for the drawing room. She wore a simple gown slightly lower at the neckline than usual, and he was beguiled. Once in the drawing room, she defended her disinclination to play cards with a quick wit, which easily parried the viperous Caroline Bingley’s verbal assault. Adding to enticed and beguiled, he then became impressed.
The next evening, Caroline acted on the misguided notion that if she strolled about the drawing room with Elizabeth on her arm, Elizabeth’s lack of fashion would show itself to Caroline’s advantage. Unhappily for the tall, stick-figured Caroline, Elizabeth’s posture was refined and her figure just the sort to attract Darcy’s silent praise, as he was now given the occasion to observe it carefully. Elizabeth had a lovely bosom and was slender enough to rarely wear a full corset, giving her gait a natural grace. He suspected she might have fine legs, for what he could see of her ankles appeared trim and shapely. Elizabeth Bennet radiated health, and although Darcy was not conscious of it, this attribute attracted him as much as her laughing, intelligent eyes and pert opinions.
The same night, Elizabeth challenged Darcy to enumerate his faults. As he sat with a book and brandy upon retiring for the night, he confessed she had bested him. He was embarrassed to admit that, in answering her queries, he had responded with pride and vanity—the very faults he told her he tried to regulate. He could just possibly be smitten. The next day he tried to avoid her, though he spent a tense half an hour in her company in the Netherfield library, where he was thoroughly aroused by nothing other than her proximity.
When Jane and Elizabeth departed, Darcy was fit only for brisk physical activity, and he spent the rest of the day riding. Before retiring that night, he had stolen unseen into the room Jane and Elizabeth had shared. Although the Bingley housemaids had tidied it, there was a faint hint of lavender in the air, which he had noticed in the library on the previous day. Oh Darcy, this will not do. She is not for you, so do not dwell upon the simple country charms of Elizabeth Bennet.
That night, he dreamt of one of the courtesans he had hired in Vienna, a redhead. She had the complexion of ripe peaches and an ample bosom with rouged nipples, which was displayed spilling over a pale pink corset. In his dream, as he kissed the thighs and dimpled knees of the exquisite and expensive harlot, he glanced from time to time at her face. Sometimes it was the red-haired strumpet watching him with encouraging smiles, and sometimes it was the brunette Elizabeth with her brows lifted in surprise. In his dream, when the face was Elizabeth’s with those beautiful dark eyes, his breath quickened. He blinked and the harlot returned. In the morning, he awoke unsettled by the awareness that Miss Elizabeth Bennet had invaded his dreams.
***
The next dream was the night after the Netherfield ball, and Darcy’s last night in Hertfordshire before returning to London to attempt to convince Bingley that Miss Jane Bennet was an unsuitable match.
Darcy stepped away from the dance floor after dancing with Elizabeth Bennet to find a glass of wine. Although she was easily the most handsome woman in the room and an accomplished dancer, his set with her had been disappointing. She was attempting to sketch his character, and he felt that any effort to correct her impressions would imply he cared with a deeper regard than he could admit to anyone, least of all himself. He wandered back to the edge of the dance floor to find Elizabeth dancing with George Wickham.
At each turn by his partner, Wickham passed too close, as if hoping to brush her bosom or derriere. Bastard! Darcy stepped onto the dance floor, standing between Wickham and Elizabeth, interrupting their progress down the line of the dance. Elizabeth was making a turn in place and did not see Darcy until she came to rest. She slowly smiled at him. “Is this what it takes to draw your attention, Mr. Darcy? Must I dance with a blackguard?”
“Surely, Miss Elizabeth, you mean that he is the blackguard,” sneered Wickham, and he moved to take her hand to continue the dance.
Darcy took her other hand, and turned her sharply away from Wickham and into his arms. In front of all the assembled guests, he kissed her with a passion he had never before expressed in any way to any woman. The assembled guests gasped, but Darcy did not care, and neither, it seemed, did Elizabeth. Magically, her evening gloves were gone and her bare arms climbed his chest, her hands finding their way to his hair. She opened her mouth slightly, it was all the welcome he needed. His hands slid down her back and grabbed her firm derriere. She did not release his lips but moaned and pushed her body against his.
“Mr. Darcy, what are your intentions towards my daughter?” boomed Mr. Bennet, sounding altogether louder than seemed possible.
“She deserves far better than that rake,” Darcy responded, not releasing Elizabeth from his embrace.
“You are not behaving far better,” she teased. “In fact, I would say the two of you were cut from the same cloth.”
She looked up at him, the corner of her lower lip caught by her upper teeth, as if trying not to laugh. “Then damn you,” he growled, and kissed her again with renewed ferocity. His hands slid up her back, around her ribs, and to the sides of her breasts, which were heavy and heaving, much bigger than he previously noticed. He looked down and her breasts were now bare, nipples rouged.
“Your intention had better be marriage, sir,” bellowed Mr. Bennet.
“Do you want me?” Darcy whispered hotly into Elizabeth’s ear.
“Take me, Mr. Darcy. Take me tonight and always.”
Darcy had awoken in a cold sweat, with an erection requiring immediate attention.
As Darcy now reflected on the dream, he realised that, at the time, it had been easy to pretend that the larger part of Elizabeth’s allure had been due to his jealousy. Wickham had charmed her using no more effort than it might take to drink a glass of water. Darcy had not wished to charm, tempt or encourage her in any way, yet the knowledge that his enemy had done so had made the bile rise in his throat. He had tried to think less of her for being deceived by Wickham’s appearance of goodness, but the material point remained: he had not been able to stop thinking of her at all.
***
When Darcy was lately in London and dreamt of Elizabeth in the Netherfield billiard room, upon awakening, he felt he was seeing her more clearly. She was a woman worthy of being pleased, and he had improved himself sufficiently that she had accepted him. She was everything lovely. Her attempts to rise to every challenge had encouraged him to tempt her further, and her response to his touch before leaving for London had thrilled him.
So why am I now afraid she will spurn me? The steady clopping of horse’s hooves on frozen gravel provided no answer, other than to offer nagging evidence that precious time, which might have been spent laughing with her, was instead wasted on contemplating how to right an insult.
***
On the night of Darcy’s return from London,
just five days before the wedding, Elizabeth had offered herself to him. Was this not her admission that she was ready to be awakened? She had said more than once that it was her own inclinations she feared, not him. Somehow, in the days of his absence, she had overcome her trepidation.
The dream that followed was another confounding combination of the actual past, an improvement of it, and a strange sensation of prescience.
As he rode away from Bakewell, where his sister remained to follow later, his thoughts turned, as ever, to memories of Elizabeth Bennet. It was a hot summer day. Darcy slowed his approach to Pemberley, sticky and uncomfortable in his riding clothes. He swerved his horse to the spring-fed pond hidden from the house by a copse of willows.
There was really nothing to be done about her. Although Darcy planned to convince Bingley to return to Netherfield for one more season of shooting before giving up the lease, Darcy did not think he could bear to be so close to Elizabeth and not see her. He had taken her criticisms to heart— such a perceptive woman she was— but he had no hope she would offer any opportunity to display his improvements of civility. He had insulted her and her entire family, even those members he had not met. His sweeping statements of disgust mortified him now, but it was much too late. No, he could only hope to restore Bingley to Jane Bennet’s attention, and then Darcy would leave Hertfordshire. He was even undecided about the wisdom of standing up with Bingley, should a wedding take place, as Jane would surely wish to be seconded by Elizabeth. Darcy could not imagine standing at an altar in the company of such a bridesmaid without importuning the minister to state the wedding vows twice.
After his swim, a groom who was exercising Georgiana’s new horse happened by. Darcy sent his mount off with the lad and approached his home on foot. The water had done him good; he felt refreshed and oddly hopeful. Perhaps he should be of a more positive opinion regarding Bingley’s return to Netherfield. Perhaps he should convince Georgiana to accompany him. She might forebear the company of Bingley’s sisters a little longer if it meant an introduction to the mysterious Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy had overheard his sister querying Bingley on the subject, and he was of the firmest belief that Georgiana and Elizabeth would become fast friends if he could effect an introduction.
Longbourn to London Page 17