An Engaging Friendship

by AmyJ

  She did want to please her husband, and was cognizant of her marital duty, but was hesitant of giving more liberties than she had already. Darcy had said they would wait until they were both ready. Yet, if her aunt's and mother's word was to be trusted at all, he had been ready since the day they wed.

  All of a sudden, they were standing in front of her bedroom door.

  Darcy looked down at her lovingly. He reached out and traced her cheek with his fingers, before gently kissing her. Then, he stepped back. "I usually read for a while before turning in." He bit his lower lip for a moment, and then said awkwardly, "I would... perhaps... if you want to..." Elizabeth smiled, realizing what he was saying.

  "I believe I would enjoy reading a bit, too. Perhaps I could join you?"

  "I would like that." Darcy expelled a breath. "Would you prefer the library, or,"

  he nodded towards his own apartments.

  Elizabeth turned a lovely shade of pink from head to toe. "I will join you shortly," she paused, before saying, "in your rooms." Embarrassed at such a forward statement, she hurried into her rooms.

  Darcy inhaled and exhaled slowly as he leaned his head against her door, that was once again closed. After collecting himself, he nearly ran to his rooms, impatiently calling for Franklin.

  After giving hasty instructions to his valet, he began undressing. He removed his jacket, waistcoat and cravat, and was about to remove his shirt, but

  hesitated. He raked his hand through his hair. Would Elizabeth be

  uncomfortable seeing him in his night shirt and dressing robe? Perhaps trousers and shirt would be better.

  Thoughts of his attire naturally drifted towards hers. What would she be

  wearing? Images of her in a sheer silk nightgown with her hair flowing around her shoulders flooded his brain, and his body was quick to respond. He bit his lip in an attempt to regain control of himself. He rubbed his hands over his face. God help him if she did! He would not be able to stop himself, not now, not knowing she loved him.

  With considerable effort, he turned his thoughts to something less alluring. He picked up the book on his side table, and began reading as he paced slowly. It was a journal by Roman Gladiators. There was nothing arousing about flea

  infested prisons, and vicious bloody battles to the death, and in time, his composure returned to that of a gentleman.

  All too soon though, there was a soft knock on the door that joined his room with that of the Mistress. He looked over to the sofa and chairs. Seeing

  Franklin had seen to all of his requests, he took one last deep breath, bracing himself for whatever awaited him on the other side.

  He opened the door.

  There stood his Elizabeth. He could not help staring. After taking a moment to remember how to perform basic movement, he motioned her inside. As she

  settled herself into the corner of the sofa, he thanked heaven above; she had been kind enough to cover herself with a dressing robe. Still, the material was thin, and did nothing to hide the fact that there was a chill in the air.

  Pointing to a thick wool rug, he said, "There is a blanket if it is too cool in here." Despite the fact that it felt like to raging inferno to him, he silently beseeched the gods that she would cover herself, and cursed his weakness that had created this situation. He should have simply bid her good night.

  "Would you like some sherry?" he asked, desperately trying not to look at her.

  "Yes," she said, in a tremulous voice.

  Darcy poured two glasses and handed one to her, then downed the other.

  Placing his empty glass to the side, he was relieved to see her lower half well covered. He then settled into the other corner of the sofa, placing a pillow in his lap, and resting his book upon it.

  For almost an hour, the two kept up the charade of reading. Finally, after

  catching Elizabeth once again looking at him through her lashes, and realizing he could not remember a word of what he had read, he noisily closed his book.

  He snickered when Elizabeth quickly raised her tome to cover her face, and

  began studying it in earnest. Not at all fooled, he gently took the book from her hands and pulled her to his side. When he felt her hesitate, he said, "I only want to hold you. I know you are not ready for more."

  Guiltily, she dropped her eyes to her lap, but did as she was bid. Less than a minute later, all her anxiety had vanished, and she let out a dreamy sigh. He responded by kissing the top of her head and wrapping his arms around her

  tightly.

  Arranged thusly, they both fell asleep.

  Sometime in the middle of the night, Darcy woke. Feeling Elizabeth pressed

  against him caused a broad smile to emerge. It had not been a dream. Tempted as he was to remain as they were, reason took over, and told him neither would sleep well on the small sofa.

  For a long minute, he contemplated his own bed, but fear of her reaction in the morning prompted him to change his mind. When she came to his bed, it would be willingly, and in full control of her faculties. For now, he would have to wait for sleep to come, for in his dreams, he could love her how he wished.

  Gingerly, he woke her, just enough to make it safely to her own rooms. Once in her own bed, she was quick to fall back asleep, allowing Darcy the freedom to watch her unabashedly. He was tempted to pull up a chair and watch her the

  rest of the night, but told himself he would have that privilege soon enough.

  Eventually he tore himself away, but not before whispering, "I love you, my sweet Beth."

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The following morning, Elizabeth was startled to find herself in her own room, and alone. The last thing she remembered was being curled up next to Darcy in his rooms. If that had truly happened though, how had she ended up in her own room? Without any other explanation, she wrote off the previous night as a

  dream. But what a glorious dream it had been!

  Her conjecture was further confirmed when she found the hallway void of her husband. Every other morning since their wedding, she had found him waiting for her.

  Seeds of panic began to grow, as she considered the possibility that it was not a dream, and her solitary state was because he had realized his mistake, and had rejected her and her love. She tried to tell herself to be reasonable, but until she saw him, she could not relax.

  She had been pushing food around her plate for some ten minutes before she

  heard her husband approach. Uncertain of what she might find, she could not bring herself to look at him, and therefore, she missed his look of pure joy.

  "Good morning, Elizabeth."

  "Good morning, Fitzwilliam." His warm tone, which she hoped was a sign of his regard, inspired a small smile, but she barely raised her head.

  "Did you sleep well?"

  "Um, yes... I suppose so..." When she did look up, he was standing next her.

  Without another word, he took her hand. Instead of kissing the back of her

  fingers, as he had often done, he turned it over pressed an ardent kiss to her palm.

  Instantly, Elizabeth brightened and her heart swelled. "I thought it might have been a dream," she whispered. A bashful, but brilliant smile broke free.

  "No dream." he replied, just before grazing his lips against hers.

  She was disappointed when he straightened and made his way to the side

  board. Reluctantly though, she admitted that any further display in front of servants would be unseemly.

  After a morning attending to matters of the estate, Darcy made good on his

  promise. Though he still had reservations on the idea of Elizabeth driving, he could not come up with a good argument against it. Even Georgiana took the

  phaeton around Pemberley, not that Elizabeth knew of it.

  As he contemplated the lesson though, his eagerness grew. He would have to

  remain close to her through the lesson, and help her hold the reins until she was accustomed to the pull. If
only he could teach her as his father had taught him, seated upon his lap. Then, realizing such an arrangement might result in very little driving being done, he resigned himself to the original plan.

  So it was that, after their mid-day repast, a phaeton was made ready for Elizabeth's first driving lesson.

  Elizabeth exited the house with the flutter of excitement and anticipation in her belly. She was unsure of what had inspired her to make such a request, but

  further examination of its benefits increased her determination.

  As Mistress of the estate, she would be required to call on tenants, taking them medicines and other necessities. Longbourn was small enough that walking or horseback was sufficient; Pemberley, however, was not. And as much as she

  enjoyed Darcy's company, he would not always be available to drive her. Nor did she like the idea of having to rely on a servant to cart her to and fro.

  Not wholly unexpectedly, she found Darcy waiting. The sight of the cart and horses caused her courage to falter -- it somehow seemed bigger than she

  recalled -- but her husband's encouraging smile, and the prospect of spending time with him, triumphed.

  Before handing her up, Darcy graced his wife with a small gift of driving

  gloves. "You will need these."

  Gently, he removed her thin, lace gloves that matched her gown -- kissing each palm as he did so -- and then assisted her in putting on the new, sturdier, kid leather ones.

  "Thank you, Fitzwilliam. Whenever did you have a chance to get these?"

  Darcy's eyes crinkled with amusement, "I can not let you know all my secrets just yet. How else am I to impress you?"

  Elizabeth let out a merry chuckle, and allowed Darcy to assist her up.

  After going over the basics of driving, he took hold of the reins. "Take them like this," he instructed. He then helped her weave the reins between her fingers for a steady grip. "Now flick them."

  He watched as Elizabeth feebly flicked them once with no success. She flicked them a second time, a bit harder than necessary this time, causing the horses to startle, and the phaeton to lurch.

  At her sheepish grin, he said encouragingly, "You will find the correct rhythm and tension with a little practice."

  Once they had the cart and horse moving, they worked on slowing down and

  speeding up, awkwardly following the paths that wove through Pemberley.

  Elizabeth would often overcorrect, crushing the edges of the paths with hoofs and wheels.

  Despite the frustration, both enjoyed the intimacy of the exercise. They were seated close together, their thighs touching; and through most of the lesson, Darcy's hands covered Elizabeth's, poised to take over if necessary.

  Darcy proved to be a patient teacher, but also a distracting one. In such close proximity to his new wife, and so soon after their new understanding, he found

  himself unable to resist the urge to occasionally squeeze her hand affectionately, or kiss her cheek. This would, in turn, cause Elizabeth to lose focus, and steer them off course.

  When Elizabeth had had enough, Darcy took over, much to the relief of the

  horses, and they returned the house. Once there, despite their inclinations, duties of Master and Mistress beckoned, and they separated once again.

  Elizabeth had matters of the house to look after, and despite Darcy's praise of her ability to perform, she felt guilty for having not practiced the pianoforte these last two weeks. She had no doubt she would be expected to play at her debut dinner and ball, and was determined to do credit to both the Darcy and Matlock names.

  Not long before dinner, Darcy entered the music room. Lovingly, he watched

  as Elizabeth played and sang quietly to herself. It was every bit the picture of domestic tranquillity he had imagined. All that was missing were the children and his sister, but that would all come later.

  When the song ended, Darcy clapped as he strode to his wife's side. "That was beautiful," he said, taking both of her hands in his as she stood.

  Elizabeth bowed her head to hide the blush that had imposed itself on her

  cheeks. "Thank you," she murmured.

  Darcy tipped her chin towards him. Drawn to her by the adoring look in her

  eyes, he leaned down and kissed her. They remained thusly engaged until

  Darcy felt the tatters of his reserve slipping.

  Though their eyes remained locked, they each took a half step back, knowing the smallest touch would only reignite passion. As the sun was still above

  horizon, and servants moved about freely, restraint was still required.

  The following morning, Elizabeth watched as her husband took another bite of the morning pastries, and resumed his perusal of the paper. She could not help becoming engrossed in the way his eyes moved quickly over the page, and the way his brow creased and straightened as he read the articles.

  She took a moment to warm her morning coffee, while gathering her courage.

  "Fitzwilliam," she said tentatively.

  He looked up instantly, with a smile, "Yes, dearest?"

  "Are you expecting to meet with Mr. Seymour today?"

  Darcy instinctively checked his watch. "No, I am not expecting any callers."

  He smiled adoringly. "I am entirely at your disposal."

  Elizabeth felt a blush creep into her cheeks. "I..." She took a deep breath. "I thought if you were not busy, we might visit Pemberley's chapel this day."

  "If you wish." Seeing his wife's apprehension, he asked, "Is there something in particular that holds your curiosity?"

  Elizabeth bit her lip for a moment. Quietly she said, "I wished to pay my respects." She looked up at him through her lashes.

  Of course! he thought, ashamed he had not considered that himself. It had been nearly a year since he had visited, before the whole Ramsgate incident. He had been unable to face them since. "Certainly." He smiled appreciatively. "It is a lovely idea."

  So, after seeing to a few things concerning the servants, Elizabeth and Darcy made their way the graveyard near Pemberley's chapel. The sky was an

  appropriate grey, and dark clouds in the distance threatened rain.

  Nonetheless, Darcy solemnly stood in front of the grave markers of his mother and father. Carefully, he laid a nosegay of spring flowers between them, and then pressed a hand on the top of each one.

  "You were right, mother. She did grow up to be very beautiful," he said quietly.

  "She has brought such happiness to our home. I am sorry for failing you both last summer. Things will be different though now. Georgiana loves Elizabeth like a sister, and has matured so much these past months. Every day she

  reminds me more of you. I hardly recognize her sometimes." He went on

  making amends and informing his father of all that was happening on the

  estate. When he was finished, he walked over to where Elizabeth stood. They touched noses for just a second. "Take as much time as you wish," he said softly.

  Elizabeth knelt before the headstones, nervously pulling at some small weeds.

  Quietly she began. "I know I am not what you envisioned in a wife for your son. I do not have a title, nor a large dowry. My family's name is not known in London, much less amongst the first circle. I can promise, however, to love him for the rest of my days; and to do my best to be worthy of the Darcy name.

  I only wish to see him and Georgiana happy." She went on to apologize for not visiting until now, and for the rift between her and Darcy and Georgiana, and other matters of the heart. When she was finished, she kissed her fingers and then pressed her hand to each of headstones.

  She returned to Darcy's side and was met with a silent embrace. After a

  moment, he pulled back and kissed her forehead. There were no words for such a moment, so taking her hand, and placing it on his arm, Darcy led them back to the phaeton that awaited them.

  The ride back to the main house was quiet, neither ready to share what was in their hearts, and upon t
heir arrival, they went their separate ways.

  That night, as was becoming tradition, Elizabeth once again joined Darcy in his sitting room. Tonight though, Darcy did not intend to put up the pretence of reading. He sat, and then signalled for her to sit beside him. When she did, he

  was quick to pull her into his arms. He pressed a deep kiss in to her hair. "I love you, Elizabeth."

  She cuddled up next to him, resting her head against his shoulder. "I love you too, Fitzwilliam."

  "Thank you," he said. "I had not visited them since last spring." As expected, Elizabeth looked up at him in surprise. "I could not face them after last summer. I was too full of guilt. I had to fix things first."

  Elizabeth pulled back and placed her hand against his cheek. "Fitzwilliam, your parents do not blame you, nor does Georgiana."

  Not unexpectedly, Darcy turned away. "She was my responsibility," he said lowly.

  Elizabeth looked up at him with a tender, understanding look, and then kissed the tip of his nose. "You must allow yourself to be forgiven, and let go of the things you can not control. You have many under your responsibility:

  Pemberley's tenant families, the servants, the servants in London, Georgiana,"

  with a pert smile, she added, "and a wife." She kissed his cheek. "and God willing, someday children." She saw his expression intensify, but continued.

  "And while you are the best man I know, you will not be able to protect all of us all of the time."

  The last word was barely out of her mouth when she found his lips pressed

  hard against her own. After being thusly engaged for some time, he leaned his forehead against her. "I shall try, if you will be patient with me."

  Elizabeth nodded, and placed a final kiss on his lips, before nestling against his shoulder again. Darcy let out a deep sigh. A long contented silence filled the room.

  "I would have liked for them to see us marry. They would have been proud to welcome you into the family." His tone was distant but light. "My father always wanted a daughter like you. He claims it was his idea to give Georgiana your name." Feeling her smiling against him, he kissed the top of her head.