by Elaine Owen
Darcy put his arms around her, slowly drawing her to him, and as she came closer he bent to kiss the curve of her neck. “I shall make you happy, Elizabeth. I swear it—and the oath shall be kept.”
“You said that to me once before,” she reminded him mischievously, although she was already beginning to melt under the tender touch of his caresses.
“I meant it then, too,” he murmured into her ear, continuing to kiss her softly. Then he stopped, pulling back slightly to look her in the face.
“Shall we?” he asked, motioning toward his bed with one hand, just as he had on their first night together. But in contrast to that time, when she nodded her agreement he swept her off her feet and into his arms, kicking the door shut as he did so. He quickly crossed the room with her but hesitated before placing her on the bed, looking at her seriously.
“If we come together now, Elizabeth, I want to be certain that it is because it is your earnest desire. I want no compulsion between us, no sense of obligation. Are you truly here because you want to be here, and for no other reason?”
“It is my earnest desire to be here,” she assured him, feeling all the significance of the moment. This would truly be a new beginning to their marriage. “There is no place that I would rather be.” He bent to kiss her, and she placed her arms around his neck, drawing him to her as he lowered her down onto the mattress. And although they had been together in this way many times previously, for both of them, it was the first time.
Afterward they lay together quietly, Elizabeth’s head nestled against Darcy’s shoulder. They were silent but not still, each keenly aware of the other’s presence as they breathed in each other’s essence. At length Elizabeth felt Darcy’s free hand move across her waist until it came to rest on her stomach. “Elizabeth, may I ask a question?” His voice was deep, calming.
“Of course, William—anything.”
“Is there any chance that you are with child?”
Elizabeth’s eyes, which had been drifting closed, opened wide. “Why do you choose to ask that now?”
“It is important to me,” he insisted, leaning up on one elbow to look down at her intently. “Please tell me if you are.”
Her courses had just come the week before. “No, I do not believe that I am.”
Darcy exhaled, a sigh of relief, and lay back on the pillow again. Elizabeth looked at him, puzzled. “I do not understand. Do you not want children?”
Darcy took one of her hands in his to drop kisses on her fingertips. “I would dearly love to have children one day, as many as you are willing to give me. But I was afraid that you being with child might have played a role in deciding whether to stay with me or not.”
“You mean that if I were with child, I could not have gone back to Longbourn.”
Darcy nodded, the light from the one burning candle in the room playing across his fine features.
“If I had been with child,” she answered slowly, “when you made your offer to give me my freedom, I suppose you are right. It would have been no choice at all; I would have had to remain with you. Please understand that my decision to stay with you was made before I received your offer. As soon as I realized that you truly loved me, I knew that I owed you a much more thorough apology than the weak words I had already written to you and that I wanted, more than anything, a second chance to make our marriage work.”
“And when did you discover that you loved me as well?”
“I don’t know, exactly,” she said, pretending to be seriously considering the question. “Perhaps when I first saw Pemberley and realized the wealth which would be at my disposal as Mrs. Darcy.”
She had thought to make him laugh, but he pressed a tentative kiss to her forehead instead, and she understood that this, too, was important to him. “I believe I was already falling in love with you after we came to Pemberley, as I began to see your better nature and how much you cared for those around you. But I did not entirely admit it to myself until I faced the prospect of leaving you. Then I began to realize how empty my life would be unless you were in it.”
Darcy held her a little closer and relaxed again, and she understood that her answer had pleased him. “But now, since you have asked me the question, I must also ask you in return: when did you first realize that you loved me?”
His answer was immediate. “`I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”
“No, William,” she playfully pushed him away as he tried to kiss her. “You forced me to answer the question; it is my turn to have an honest answer from you.”
“I will not pretend to an honesty I do not own; I can only tell you that it was certainly before you went to Kent and most probably during the weeks you spent at Netherfield. But the love I have developed for you since we married, and especially since our great argument, dwarfs my previous emotions for you. By you I have been properly humbled. Until I saw myself through your eyes, I never knew myself at all. You showed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”
As he spoke, the single candle in the room, already dimming, fluttered and went out. Darcy began to stir himself, but Elizabeth said, “You need not bother. There is no reason to light another.”
“I have a better idea.” Rising briefly, he went to the double doors that separated his room from the balcony outside and threw them open. The sky outside was almost completely clouded over, obscuring any stars, but the light from the moon still shone clearly through.
“Delightful,” Elizabeth murmured as Darcy took his place beside her again. The sultry air from outside carried the scent of the trees and water, and the quiet rippling of the stream could be heard plainly. “I might not ever want a lamp in this room again. It is a shame that your comet is not visible tonight, but it is nearly as bright with just the moon glow.”
Darcy pulled her back into the circle of his arms again, cradling her head against his chest. “Elizabeth, I have another question to ask you.”
“William! No more questions, please!” She attempted to bury her head in his neck, but he refused to be diverted.
“As delightful as our reunion has been, I still feel that there is a part of you that is holding back from me.”
Elizabeth went very still. “I cannot imagine what you mean.”
“I mean specifically with—this.” He waved a hand vaguely over the bed, and Elizabeth understood that he was speaking of their marital intimacies. “I know you came to me willingly, but I do not think you enjoy our time together as much as I do. Pleasure should be shared, Elizabeth, not just given from one partner to the other. Do you feel any pleasure when we come together?”
Elizabeth was glad, now, of the darkened room and the cover it gave for her blushing cheeks. “Ladies are not raised to speak of such things.”
“You are not just a lady; you are my wife, and I am asking as your husband, in the intimacy of our bedchamber, not in polite conversation over the dinner table. Surely we can speak of such things here. Have you ever felt any pleasure for yourself when we were together?”
“It has not been exactly unpleasant,” she hedged.
“But nothing more?”
How could she answer? She did not entirely know what pleasure he thought she should have. “Is it not enough to feel delight at being able to please the one you love?”
“No, it is not.” Darcy pulled his arms from around her, sitting up straight in bed so that he could look down at her face. His expression, even in the dark, was almost painfully earnest. “Elizabeth, I want you to feel the same joy that I do when we come together, the same thrill, the same delightful sensations which have enthralled me ever since our wedding night. I do not know how to give you those sensations if we cannot talk about it. I have never been with another woman, you know,” he added, almost as an afterthought.
“What!” Elizabeth sat up as well, wanting to meet his gaze
as an equal. “I assumed you—my uncle said that you— “
“Yes, I know what your uncle told you.” He smiled humorlessly. “He told me your entire conversation with him.”
“You knew what I believed about you already! Then why did you ask me to repeat the conversation to you?”
“I thought it was important that we talk about it for ourselves. I want you to know that I have never had another woman in my bed besides you. This experience has been as new for me as it has been for you.”
“You have not? Why?” Rarely had Elizabeth been so startled. Although she had accepted that Darcy had no mistress, she had still assumed that he, like most men of his class, would have had some experience at some point in his life.
“What kind of hypocrite would I be, demanding innocence from my wife but not from myself? I know it is not the way of the world, that men are expected to have taken this step long before they are married. Certainly it is the way of the Ton. But as I told you earlier, I am not a typical man of the Ton.”
“So you had no idea what to expect on our wedding night?” Elizabeth could not help asking.
“I had some idea,” Darcy told her, with a slow smile. “When men gather in the clubs, there is talk of course. But I never wanted to share that experience with anyone but the woman I married.”
Stunned, Elizabeth leaned back against the pillows. Then she began to laugh. “What is so amusing?” her husband asked.
“Here all this time, I was counting on you to show me how this is done, to let me know if the marital bed was supposed to be more than the duty that Hill described to me before we married.”
“Your housekeeper told you what to expect?” The shock in Darcy’s voice was palpable; then he began to laugh as well. For several minutes they laughed together, amused at the misunderstandings under which they had both labored. Then Darcy sobered.
“Elizabeth, when we come together again, do you think you can tell me what brings you pleasure? Or will you be embarrassed, too ashamed to speak of such things? I will never know how to improve the experience without your help.”
Oddly, she no longer felt any shame. “My courage rises with every attempt to intimidate me. If you can bear with the unspeakable impropriety of such a forward wife, I will do my best to communicate with you.”
“Then let us begin now.” Darcy reached for her gently but eagerly, finding his way with Elizabeth’s encouragement. And together, they went to the stars.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
They rose rather later than usual the next morning: so late, in fact, that the morning post had been delivered by the time they came downstairs. A letter sat at Elizabeth’s place at the table when she and Darcy sat down together to eat breakfast.
“From my uncle!” she said with surprise. “Perhaps it is news of Lydia.”
The letter was short, only one page:
My dear niece,
I have waited too long to write you this letter. I fear that I rendered you a serious disservice at the time that I arranged your marriage to Darcy, and I write now to ask your pardon, knowing that no words may serve to undo the pain I undoubtedly caused both of you.
At the time I first relayed Darcy’s proposal of marriage to you, I made many assumptions about his character and his views of marriage, based on my own limited exposure to members of what is considered fashionable society. These assumptions were gravely mistaken. As I have come to spend more time with Darcy in town, I have realized how different he is from the typical men of society, a sharp contrast to the man I described to you on the day of your engagement to him. His character and disposition are above reproach. He is grave sometimes, quiet when he ought to speak, and occasionally awkward when he tries to convey what is in his heart. But make no mistake—though it may be hard for you to see right now, there is no finer man in the kingdom.
I have already asked most humbly for Darcy’s pardon, and now I ask for yours. It is my belief that once the two of you resolve your mistaken impressions of each other, you may make one of the happiest couples in England. May you learn to love each other, and to live in the happiness you both so richly deserve.
I am your sincerely repentant uncle,
Edward Gardiner
Elizabeth folded the note gently, tenderly, and replaced it in the envelope as Darcy watched. “Is there news of your sister?” he asked.
“No.” She shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. “My uncle wrote only to tell me what I already knew—that I should have realized much earlier the worth of the man I married.”
“Did he?” Darcy looked at her with a bemused expression.
“Yes, but do not ask me to repeat what he said, lest I be guilty of flattering you unnecessarily. I shall cherish these words and remind myself of them at some future time when I need to remember not to let mistaken impressions rule the day.” They gazed happily at each other for a moment before Elizabeth tucked the letter into her sleeve, resolving to read it again that night.
“For now,” she continued more briskly, “there are other matters we need to address. For instance, now that Jane and Mr. Bingley are married, do you think there is a chance that the talk about Lydia and Wickham will go away?”
Darcy accepted the redirection gracefully. “I applaud Bingley for his actions regarding your sister,” he answered, “but the talk about Lydia and Wickham will not entirely disappear. They must marry, and it must not be widely known that they were together in London beforehand. Nothing else will do. When I left town I gave Mr. Gardiner certain information about Wickham’s former haunts that may help him in his efforts to locate them. I hope we will hear shortly that he has been successful.”
“Then what? How do we convince Wickham to marry Lydia?”
“All it takes is money. There is nothing he will not do if the price is right.”
Elizabeth said nothing, but her mouth twisted down as she looked at her husband. Her uncle had no money, certainly not in the amount it would take to convince Wickham to do the right thing, and Darcy well knew it, so he must be planning to pay for the match himself. Darcy saw the look on her face and reached out to touch her hand gently.
“Do not fret about the price; I am a wealthy man, and whatever Wickham demands, we will be able to afford it.”
“I suppose I have no choice but to accept the situation, but it goes hard against the grain to think that my husband and uncle will have to bribe one of the most worthless men in England for the privilege of naming him as a relative!”
“We will do what must be done,” Darcy responded, seeming to shrug it off. “I am more concerned about the situation with my aunt. Wickham will succumb to a bribe, but Lady Catherine is not so easily managed.”
“You said on the way home that you had some plan in mind for dealing with her.”
“It is more of a hope, really—an idea that came to my mind while I was in town. I do not know if it will bear fruit. I asked my solicitor to seek out some information for me regarding Lady Catherine and Sir Lewis.”
“Information about what?”
Darcy leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning down as he frowned in thought. “There has long been talk in the family of something irregular in their marriage, some sort of scandal that was quickly hushed up.”
“A scandal involving Lady Catherine? This cannot be.” She waited, but her husband said nothing more. “You cannot possibly think I will be satisfied with just that tidbit of information!”
“I truly have little to add to it. My father disliked gossip—and I have always avoided it, trying to follow his lead—but Lady Catherine is a special case. The only way she will leave us alone is if she thinks we hold the upper hand in some way. For this reason I am willing to delve into the family secrets, if secrets there be.”
“What secrets do you expect to find?”
“Perhaps something significant, or perhaps nothing at all. It would be folly to speculate too much on matters about which I know nothing. Until I hear something
more, I have a great deal of work to catch up with now that I am back at Pemberley. I am afraid I will have to be closeted with my steward for some time this morning. Do you mind?”
“Not at all. I have my responsibilities as well, and I am sure Georgiana and I will find something to occupy our time. But after that, perhaps I can interest you in an afternoon walk in the gardens?” She smiled invitingly at him.
“You may count on it,” Darcy said, answering her smile with one of his own. “I shall come and find you then.”
Several hours later, they realized that the walk in the gardens would not happen. The skies had opened, and a veritable deluge had begun.
Darcy, taking a small break from his work, stood observing in front of his study window, marveling at how quickly the smooth driveway in front of Pemberley had filled with hundreds of small streams and puddles. The great branches of the Spanish chestnuts seemed to bend under the weight of the onslaught, only to bend again as the high winds of the storm caught at them and pulled. Darcy wondered if the colonel, bent on his usual ride around the park, had returned to the house before the storm broke.
“It is invigorating, don’t you think?” Elizabeth said. She and Georgiana, unnoticed, had entered the room and come to stand at his side, drawn by the sight of the pounding rain. “The air will be cleared after this is gone, for a while. I was tiring of the constant oppressiveness.”
Darcy acknowledged their entrance with a welcoming smile. “The crops will certainly benefit from it. My steward was saying this morning that we needed a good rain, and I believe this fits the bill admirably. The tenants are no doubt rejoicing even as we speak.”
“I think I see one of your tenant families now,” Elizabeth said, mischief in her voice. She nodded to where a mother duck was leading her brood happily across the driveway toward the stream, craning her neck and stretching her wings to try to catch as much of the moisture as possible. Her offspring imitated her in their diminutive way. “Tell me, Mr. Darcy, how much do you charge them to live on your property? I am sure they find no fault with their landlord!”