Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply, but her mother rushed forward, taking Lizzy’s hand and leading her up to Mr. Darcy.
“Mr. Darcy, you know how I dote on all my daughters! I am loathe to have Lizzy up and about after her outdoor adventures, but the apothecary and her father insist she is well enough and that exercise will do her good. I am afraid she is still weak, however. Will you lend her your arm, so that she might not fall?”
“It would be my honor,” Mr. Darcy said, only a trace of a smile playing at the edge of his lips.
Elizabeth could feel herself flushing, but she put her hand on his arm and glanced back just once. Her mother was holding Jane’s arm, and firmly instructing her—rather loudly—to trail behind the couple, and Jane suddenly felt cold and had to rush back to find a shawl, well, that was to be expected. It was winter, after all.
“Shall we walk?” Mr. Darcy said.
“Please,” Elizabeth said.
They fell into step, moving down the hall toward the grand staircase that led to the lower level.
Elizabeth watched Mr. Darcy from the corner of her eye. As always, he was impeccably dressed, though his clothes were not ostentatious. His face was calm, and he glanced down at her every few steps but said nothing.
It was only after they had gone down the grand staircase, into the East Wing, and were passing through a display of marble busts—all of which seemed almost more animated than her walking partner—that Elizabeth began to worry. Was something wrong? Why did he not speak?
They moved through the busts and into a bright room, with white columns and an ornate, painted ceiling. From the middle of the ceiling hung a large, glass chandelier that shimmered and caught the light, both from the windows and from the many mirrors hung on the walls.
“Oh my,” Elizabeth said, turning to admire the intricate paintings—men and women held hands, danced, and frolicked in pastoral scenes above her head. “What work went into this room.”
“Yes,” Mr. Darcy said, curtly.
They both glanced back at Jane, who was studying a bust of an elderly man with more interest than she perhaps had shown in any one thing in her life.
Elizabeth had to laugh, and when she met Mr. Darcy’s eyes again, she saw that they were shining with laughter, as well.
“I—I don’t know how to thank you,” she said in a rush. “You saved my life. I was a silly child, to run away and to endanger myself. Not to mention endangering all the men who helped me—and you.” She paused and pressed her hands to her cheeks. “You are being quiet, but kind. I am sure I can never stop telling you how sorry I am, how I regret my actions with every part of my being. I am sure you are angry with me. But please believe me, you will never be as upset with me as I am, with myself. If anything had happened to anyone—”
She paused, staring out the window. She did not dare look at him, not yet. She could not stand to see the censure in his eyes. “I told you I valued honesty, and I am not being truthful. Of course, if anything had happened to Mr. Bingley or his men, I would be devastated.” She forced herself to turn and stare into those blue, blue eyes. “But if anything had happened to you, I would not have been able to live with myself.”
“Elizabeth,” he said, stepping forward. And then, even closer, so that when he reached out gently, his palms cradled her face and he tilted her chin up, ever so slightly, so that she could look up at his beautiful, kind, smiling face. “Lizzy, my Lizzy—may I call you that? Because that is what you are.”
Elizabeth blinked back tears. “You are not mad at me? You were so silent, as we walked. I thought perhaps…you did not wish to be friends me with, any longer.”
He laughed quietly, a low, masculine sound. “I could never be mad at you. I was silent as we walked because—because that is a habit of mine. One you are helping rid me of. But because you value honesty, I must tell you, darling Elizabeth, that no, I do not wish to be friends with you.”
She inhaled quickly and tried to step back, but he moved with her.
“I wish to be much more than that,” he said.
“Oh,” Elizabeth said. “Oh my.”
“You are weak from your ordeal. There is a bench just there, behind you.” He led her to a cushioned bench against the wall. He surprised her then, by sitting next to her and holding her hand. She let him, her heart beating in her ears and her dress suddenly too tight against her chest.
Mr. Darcy cradled her hand in his, studying her palm and slowing tracing a circle there, just as he had done before. Elizabeth closed her eyes, overcome by how just that slight pressure, that constant motion—how just his touch, so sure, so sweet—could make her entire body buzz with anticipation, and excitement.
And…love.
And then he looked up at her, his face so close she could almost reach out and touch him.
And so she did.
His face was smooth-shaven, warm, softer than she would have imagined. He closed his eyes at her touch, and let her fingers lightly trace his cheek, and then his chin.
“Lizzy,” he whispered, and just as she was about to draw his hand back, he grabbed it and kissed her fingertips. Slowly. Gently.
She could not imagine what it would be like for him to actually kiss her, on her lips. Because just his soft, firm kiss on her hand made her go weak.
“I am weak, but not from my foolish ordeal,” she whispered.
He looked up at her. “I used to think that to show emotion was to make myself vulnerable. And that to be vulnerable was to fail: fail my family, fail the expectations placed on me, and to fail as a man. But my Lizzy, you have taught me to feel again. I tried to deny you—God’s truth, if we had not been snowbound together, I might have run to the ends of the Earth to escape you. You knocked me from my pedestal; you shook the very foundation of my world. I was frozen—as frozen as that river you tried to cross. And just like that river,” he began to laugh, “You have broken my foolish shell apart. You have thawed my heart. I was frozen, in life, in love. And you—you saved me, Elizabeth Bennet. You saved me from a cold existence, and you lit my world on fire.”
He stopped speaking, bowing his head and kissing the back of her hand. Slowly, intimately. Elizabeth realized that there were tears on her cheek, and she put her free hand to her heart, which beat and trembled and hurt in the most precious, wonderful way.
“Mr. Darcy—”
“Just Darcy, if you prefer. It’s what my very close friends call me.”
She laughed through her tears. “I thought you said we were not friends?”
“It is also what I hope my wife shall call me. If you will have me? I am not the most eloquent of men, but I—I love you. And I would cherish you, protect you, worship you, and—and keep you safe during all river crossings for the rest of your life, if you would consent to be my wife.”
Elizabeth wanted to close her eyes and hide her tears, but then she would miss what she most wanted to see: the look on Mr. Darcy’s face when she said “yes.”
And so she said it, once, then twice. Then a third time as his eyes lit up, and that boyish smile spread across his face, and then she said it again right before he kissed her.
And then again, and again—and once more—before they both stopped speaking and communicated in other, more delicious ways.
Elizabeth
Two Years Later
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“Can I see her? I must see her! I demand that I see my wife!”
Darcy burst into the bedroom, his hair wild and his eyes even more so. However, he skidded to a stop on the floor as soon as he saw her—and their newborn son.
“Lizzy,” he gasped, coming to the side of the bed. “My darling, my love. How can you look so beautiful after all of this?”
“By ‘all of this’ I assume you mean providing you with an heir?” she said. “Darling, meet your firstborn son, little Fitzy.”
“Good God, woman, we are not naming him Fitzwilliam.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Thank goodness. Though he will have you
r last name, and your good looks, and hopefully your wild hair.”
He laughed and ignored the women in the room, laying down gently next to her. “My God, he’s amazing. He’s perfect. May I—can I?”
“You can touch him,” Elizabeth whispered, glancing up to see her mother and Jane’s amused expressions. “You can hold him.”
Darcy sat up and slowly, gingerly, took the small, swaddled infant into his arms. Elizabeth leaned back on the pillows and smiled. She was exhausted after two days of labor, and longed to sleep and eat. But she could not stop watching the sight before her: her beloved husband, holding their firstborn child.
“Hello there,” he whispered tenderly. “Welcome to the world, sweet boy.”
Elizabeth’s eyes filled with tears, and she saw matching ones fall from her husband’s eyes when he closed them, leaned forward, and gently kissed the baby’s head, which was indeed covered with a thick thatch of dark curls.
“He’s so tiny,” Darcy said, gently rocking him. “And you—you are amazing. You are so strong, my sweet Elizabeth. I paced that hall for the past two days, but they wouldn’t let me in.” He grinned and arched a perfect eyebrow. “What took you so long, my sweet?”
She laughed out loud, then covered her mouth so as not to wake the baby. “You are lucky I am so tired, or I would throw a pillow at you. Throw anything nearby, really. ‘What took me so long’—well, I’ll tell you.”
But she was stopped by the loud caterwauling of an infant in the room next door.
Darcy almost dropped their son. “What—who—is that a baby?” he gasped.
Lizzy grinned, and then Jane appeared, holding another infant in her arms.
“That took me so long,” Elizabeth said. “Darling, meet your daughter. She was quite stubborn, much like her mother, but she is here at long last.”
Darcy’s mouth hung open, and he looked wildly from the babe in his arms, to his wife, to the little girl crying in her Aunt Jane’s embrace.
“Elizabeth,” he said. “Lizzy.”
Mrs. Bennet came to take the baby boy.
“We’ll leave you two for a moment,” Jane said. “You need to get some rest now.”
Elizabeth nodded, kissing her mother and sister, and thanking all the women who had come to help her labor for so many long hours. When they had all left the room, Darcy turned to her and shook his head.
“Just when I think you can surprise me no more—you do. I am shocked. And humbled. And grateful. And—and I am just so happy you and the babies are well.”
And then he climbed into bed and gathered her into his arms, and Elizabeth smiled and shifted slightly, finding a comfortable position.
“I just want to sleep for just a bit,” she whispered, “You know, a fortnight or so.”
He laughed and kissed the top of her head. “Sleep, eat, hold our amazing children. My love, my life, do whatever your heart desires.”
She closed her eyes, curled into her husband’s warmth. “I will sleep now, and then eat. And then we will stare in awe at those two small, beautiful creatures.”
“Yes,” he whispered. “As always, you have the most brilliant plans.”
“Just hold me for now,” Elizabeth said.
“Forever and always,” Darcy replied.
And then they both slept in each other’s arms. And Elizabeth dreamed of swimming in deep, warm water. And when she surfaced, her husband pulled her up from a river and onto firm ground. But this time it was summer, and she had been swimming in the clear, still lake behind Pemberley. Her dream-self dried her body under the hot August sun, and watched her husband teach their toddlers a version of nine pins in which the children almost always won.
And when she woke up, she told Darcy about her dream, and he promised that one day, that would indeed happen.
“I know,” Elizabeth whispered happily, sitting up and looking through the window at the snow-covered grounds of Pemberley. Soon the winter snows would melt, and then world would turn warm and green and lovely again. “For you always make my dreams come true.”
Darcy smiled and joined her at the window. “More snow,” he sighed.
“I don’t mind.” She smiled cheekily. “It reminds me of when we met.”
He laughed and pulled her against him, and then they heard the twins, crying in the hall.
“Well, here they come,” Elizabeth said. “Are you ready to start this new adventure together?”
Darcy kissed her tenderly and smiled. “Always. Wherever you go, I follow…as long as it’s not a frozen river. Once was more than enough.”
Elizabeth laughed and kissed him. And then the doors opened and her mother and Jane brought the twins inside. And so began Elizabeth Darcy’s next adventure. It was one of many, through warm days and wintry nights, through the long and wonderful years, and always with her husband by her side.
Thank You for Reading
I hope you enjoyed reading Snowbound with Darcy as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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If you loved the book, please consider leaving a review. Your reviews are invaluable to indie authors like myself!
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Thank you again for spending your valuable free time with my little adventure for our dear couple.
Happy reading!
Caitlin
Also by Caitlin Marie Carrington
Please note, my earlier works are sensual Pride and Prejudice variations.
As in: incredibly intimate, quite naughty…and guaranteed to keep your warm at night!
While Darcy and Elizabeth do not anticipate their vows, they do plenty of other things. So if you you prefer clean variations and sequels, please do NOT read these books!
But if you’re in the mood for something intimate…please enjoy:
Saved from Scandal
Mr. Darcy’s Perfect Storm
Mr. Darcy’s Secret Desires
Darcy and Elizabeth’s First Night
Saved from Scandal
Saved from Scandal:
A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Saved from scandal...but ruined by love?
* * *
Elizabeth Bennet is shocked when the unthinkable happens at the Netherfield ball. And no, she is not referring to proud, pompous Mr. Darcy asking her to dance—though that was a surprise, as was his fine dancing ability.
* * *
But when Elizabeth takes a moment to cool herself on the verandah outside, Mr. Wickham shocks her by crashing the party—and then attacking Elizabeth!
* * *
He's madly intent to ruin her in front of her friends, family, and most especially Mr. Darcy. But when Darcy is the first to discover Elizabeth and Wickham in what appears to be a compromising position, the master of Pemberley shocks her and saves her—by claiming Elizabeth has promised to marry him!
* * *
Lizzy can't be content with a forced marriage, even one that saves her and all the Bennets from scandal. But as she slowly grows to know Mr. Darcy, she realizes she's in danger of losing her heart...
* * *
To a haunted man who can never love her back.
About the Author
By day, Caitlin Marie Carrington juggles motherhood, her editing job, one surly cat and all the fun drama that life with small children (and one giant husband) entails.
By night, she imagines new adventures for her favorite literary couple, Darcy and Elizabeth.
Join Caitlin’s mailing list and for new release news, giveaways, ARC opportunities, and more!
And come hang out with me on Facebook for book excerpts, new releases and all the Darcy memes you can handle.
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