Chapter 6
D arcy took the candle from the maid’s hand to guide Elizabeth through the vast house that would be hers in a short time. She stayed in Lady Anne Darcy’s apartment—but he did not occupy the master’s suite.
Instead, he had chosen to keep his childhood apartment near Georgiana’s, unable to bring himself to claim his father’s chambers. Despite the five years since George Darcy’s death, his presence still loomed large, a haunting reminder of loss that his son could not shake. This lingering memory left him hesitant to step into the space that had once belonged to his father.
However, that situation would change soon—after his wedding—when the master and the mistress of the house had to have adjacent bedrooms.
For now, Elizabeth was slowly becoming accustomed to the mistress’s chambers—which would be hers. During his childhood, when they were in town, Darcy used to spend most of his mornings in his mother’s warm, welcoming parlour. He remembered with perfect clarity the beautiful image of his mother. Gentle and caring, she was utterly different from her sister, Lady Catherine. Lady Anne Darcy would have loved Elizabeth and approved of his choice.
He left Elizabeth in front of her apartment, briefly kissing her hand and locking eyes with her. He fully intended to return after the maid had assisted her in preparing for the night. His desire to be with her was palpable, but the weight of their impending discussion also hung heavy in the air.
Living at Netherfield for the last weeks, deeply in love and interested only in Elizabeth and their future life, he was unaware of the extent of the malicious gossip Lady Catherine and others had invented and perpetuated about Elizabeth. For a time, he thought it was a simple problem and would be solved by her good nature, intelligence, and kindness; unfortunately, he found a different situation in London. It was serious, and he needed to discuss it with her immediately.
Darcy intended to tell her the truth but also to reassure his future wife that their life would be the image of connubial felicity, certain she would commit with grace and intelligence to any new duty that eventually might confront her. But the people around them might shatter their felicity. If London society decided to exclude his wife, Darcy realised he might not have the power or influence to change that attitude. They could live their whole life at Pemberley, although he preferred to do so as a personal decision and not imposed by a group of people influenced by Lady Catherine, Lord Matlock, or Bingley’s sisters. Though the latter had no influence among the ton, they could destroy Elizabeth’s reputation amongst other wealthy people who continually dreamt of attaining a place among the peerage.
After half an hour, which seemed an eternity, Darcy, in his robe, dismissed his valet and knocked at her door. Just hearing her voice aroused a storm of feelings within him, unlike anything he had known before Elizabeth.
He found her seated at his mother’s Sheraton mahogany secrétaire, writing a letter. Darcy stretched out on the chaise in front of the bureau as he had many times as a child, playing while his mother was busy at the same writing desk.
Elizabeth finished her letter and looked up, meeting his eyes. He was smiling.
“You were quite displeased only minutes ago—and distressed,” she said.
“You calm me. It is one of the effects that you have on me, yet I am still apprehensive,” he confessed, his voice betraying his inner turmoil.
“Apprehensive about what, my dear?” she asked.
“Elizabeth, I know it is unfair to you, but we have to face the truth. Before our arrival here, Lady Catherine did all the damage she could towards you. I am concerned she influences others like Lord Matlock.”
“You think it could be worse than it was tonight?” Elizabeth asked, taking his worry upon herself.
He rose to his feet, approached the writing desk, and took her hands. “Come, sit by me,” he said tenderly, gesturing towards the chaise.
But Elizabeth could not move, only abandoning her hands into his. She wanted to be near him, although she feared the closeness, remembering those moments they spent alone in Hertfordshire after they became engaged. More often than she wished to admit, they indulged in liberties a lady should not accept, but she allowed and even encouraged them. One day in particular, when they happened to be alone in the carriage on a long ride in the country, his caresses put her cheeks and her entire being on fire. She blushed, only remembering those touches, so daring that she had never imagined they existed before being with him.
“I cannot!” She smiled shyly, blushing.
“Come, Elizabeth, come sit beside me. That is all I shall ask of you.”
“Promise?”
Darcy gently laughed, fixing his gaze deeply on hers. “And what do I have to promise, my beloved?”
His tone was insinuating yet mild, a man she had not known before. The candles cast unexpected shadows on his face, making her remember all the ways she had ever seen him, from the proud Darcy who barely noticed her to the man in the carriage who wanted to reveal all her secrets.
Elizabeth coloured again, not only from fear, shame, or shyness. Deep inside, she felt a strange, new stirring. It had happened a few times in the past when they were alone. Now, he was at a distance, only looking at her, but again, her body ached in a delicious wave. She recalled wondering with Jane how Lydia could accept Mr Wickham before marriage. Now, she finally understood that there were no ’before-the-wedding’ and ‘after-the-wedding’ feelings and dispositions but a unique sentiment called love…desire…the same love and passion before and after the wedding day. The ceremonies surrounding it were only the demands of society. They did not cause a wife to feel any different from the girl she was.
“I am scared,” she said. “Not of you!” she added in haste. “I am afraid that we have broken some rules of propriety. It is so important for me to go to the church pure, and I do not feel chaste anymore,” she confessed reluctantly.
Bowing deeply, he placed lingering kisses on her hands in a gesture of tenderness and respect.
“We have done nothing wrong, my love. You are the purest woman I know,” he reassured her, his voice filled with love and respect.
“We have been alone many times, and I have allowed you…”
She did not continue since she was unsure what happened in that carriage. It was intimate and enjoyable at the same time but also frightening. Everything happened for her for the first time: every kiss, embrace, and caress. She let him into territories of her body no man had seen before, but for him, it seemed normal—as natural as if he had done it many times before.
Though she genuinely wanted explanations for a question she did not dare ask, Darcy had other problems in mind. He helped her stand up and sit on the chaise while he sat in the other corner, far from her.
“Elizabeth, my love, let us get married now, here in town,” he said, wanting her to move closer; instead, Elizabeth rose in a hasty movement of denial and ire.
“No, dearest,” she said in a rather decided tone but still with a smile on her face. “We are not going to be married like that.”
It was not at all the reaction he expected.
“You do not want to marry me?” he asked, an incredulous expression on his face.
“Of course, I want to marry you, but not like this, in haste, almost in secret, with only a small party around us. We are under the influence of this wave of gossip and opposition to our marriage. You are afraid, angry for my sake, and I am scared for our future. Please try to understand.”
But it seemed he could not. All the happiness on his face when he entered her rooms had vanished, replaced by concern and a bit of sadness.
“Come, Elizabeth, let us marry, forget these days, and depart for Pemberley. I am sure that all will be forgotten in six months or a year, and we shall have our place in London society, which nobody can take from me—from us.”
“No.” It was just a whisper, but the decision in her voice was as firm as if she had shouted it.
Darcy stood, wanting to leave, but Elizabeth blocked his way.
“Stay, please stay. This is our first dispute as a couple.”
“We are not yet a couple, my dear,” Darcy spoke with a tone she did not like.
Gently, she bade him sit once again on the chaise. She faced him, attempting to smile, but Darcy kept his gaze from her eyes, his face both annoyed and sad.
“My love,” Elizabeth said, “we also have to face these circumstances, for we shall not agree with each other every moment of our lives. But I do wish us to discuss and solve our problems as they arise.”
They were silent for some time; Darcy did not intend to speak, so Elizabeth continued. “Please try to understand my position, how scared I am. This is not my world. I do not know these people, and instead of being supported and accepted, I feel they are all against me.”
“Not all, my dear,” he said, still angry or sad but slightly more tolerant.
Elizabeth hesitated; it was evident he did not enjoy such a discussion.
They sat in silence for a time. The tension between them was lessening, but Darcy was still sad.
“I long to marry you tomorrow,” he said.
“As do I—you must believe me! But I do not want a wedding forced by circumstances, almost in fear that something might come between us again. I want the pale-yellow gown I made from the silk I received from you; I even want my mother to be present, as well as Jane, Mary, and Kitty. Our wedding day must shine, not from the sun in the sky but from our hearts. Admit it, please: it would be a mistake to marry in haste, alone, in some unknown church as if we were hiding from everyone you know.”
Darcy carefully considered all she said, barely keeping his countenance. Her ideas made sense; still, he had wanted so much to marry her and leave London. Yes, such plans were hasty, but he felt that only their marriage would put an end to a situation that could escalate to heights she could not imagine. But perhaps Elizabeth was right; their wedding had to signify a beginning, not an end. He was still displeased with her request, but he accepted her wishes.
“I agree,” he said. “However, we shall not be married in eight weeks as planned but in two, and we shall then travel to Pemberley immediately—just the two of us.”
Elizabeth tried to remain calm; two weeks was a very short period, but she obviously had to accept his terms; yet, she tried to resist and gain at least one more week.
“But we cannot marry in two weeks: the last announcement of the banns is in two weeks.”
Darcy saw the acceptance on her face, and his humour instantly changed. After all, their discussion was exciting because there was no winner or loser but delicious compromises on both sides—an elegant battle with a satisfactory truce for both.
“Do not worry, my dear,” he said, “tomorrow we can get our licence. We can marry at once or in a week.”
“Two weeks, like you said!” Elizabeth spoke with a slight smile on her face.
“Two weeks.” Darcy agreed to end their first dispute, smiling as he had one more proof he had finally found a precious woman who deeply loved him but, at the same time, had her own will— a will that would be imposed on him and accepted by him at moments of their married life.
There were still problems from the past to be resolved between them, and Darcy wanted to discuss them as soon as possible, allowing nothing to cloud their love.
“Now, Elizabeth, just ask the question you want to ask. Let us solve all our problems tonight.”
Stunned by his words, Elizabeth looked at him with curious eyes. “It seems you know me much better than I know you,” she said.
“Yes, my dear, so it seems.” Once again, he adopted a witty tone. However, he had to admit that, deep inside, he was still hurt, mostly because she needed all that time to marry him and did not feel the same urge to become his wife as he felt to become her husband. He sensed something was broken between them. After the intimate moments they shared in Hertfordshire, he expected her to commit to the wedding, regardless of when it occurred.
The storm between them had passed, but some flashes of lightning persisted, and both of them resented their disagreement in different ways.
“Come, Elizabeth,” he said again. “Ask your question and let me go to bed. I shall have a difficult day tomorrow.”
But Elizabeth did not know how to ask. She was silent, incapable of translating her inner turmoil into actual words. After all, he had admitted that, in the past, he had known other women.
He understood her reluctance. “How do I know that I shall love you and only you forever? That is the question, is it not, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks on fire. She wanted to know more than anything else, but at the same time, she was angry with herself; she could not stand feelings that seemed like jealousy.
“I do not know for sure what the future will bring. Now we are betrothed, yet we shall be lovers in a very short time…”
Elizabeth coloured again, but again, it was not from shame; instead, she sensed those strange transformations inside her body that announced a new world of feelings she was unaware of until days ago.
Darcy laughed despite the tension between them. “Why do you blush now, my love?” he gently asked her but with a drop of humour as he felt her tremble. “You asked me to tell the truth. I cannot ask less from you.”
“I blushed because I can now imagine how happy we shall be after…”
“After…?”
Elizabeth was not to be trapped into a conversation she did not want to have…yet. so she spoke in a bristly tone. “Fitzwilliam Darcy! Do not use such an insinuating tone. I still cannot talk about certain subjects the way you do. And besides, it is your turn to answer, not mine.”
Darcy watched her with such frankness in his eyes that Elizabeth smiled; she did not know what bothered her. One moment, she thought she was not jealous of the women before her, no matter what had happened. But the next instant, she found it difficult to accept that her husband had known other women. It was not only jealousy; it was also fear. What would happen if, in the future, she were no longer enough for him?
“Elizabeth, a gentleman, has certain experiences in his life before marriage. None of those was even close to love as I understand it now.”
“And how would you describe those experiences?” she said, slightly irritated.
“Intimate and at times pleasant…” he said, relieved to resolve that problem. But it was not as simple as he imagined it to be.
“I am jealous and frightened,” Elizabeth admitted.
“Let us take them one by one, dearest. Why are you jealous?”
“Why were you intimate with other women before me?” she finally asked, not daring to look into his eyes.
“Because a man has certain needs a woman does not have,” Darcy said, smiling at her worried face. Her lovely forehead was slightly creased, a new expression on her face. Despite the distress of their conversation, he could not but imagine Elizabeth with the same frown and raised eyebrow with their children when she discovered unacceptable behaviour.
Elizabeth tried to understand his words. They were skilfully chosen—not a definite statement, but they were close to a revelation.
“I am not sure I understand what you are saying. Do you mean that there have been other women because you needed them? Were you engaged before?”
Darcy had an urge to laugh, but he realised he could not mock her because her question arose from the most profound innocence. In the society in which he lived, such purity was no longer a shared legacy amongst all young ladies. In London, he could count those with such values on his fingers. But he was not sure how to explain that to his bride-to-be. Her only discussions with her friends and sisters were likely about kissing. There was a Lydia in many families, but her type was the exception, not the rule. He was sure Lydia did not discuss such matters with her sisters, at least not with Miss Bennet and Elizabeth, as they would not allow it.
“Why do you hesitate?” Elizabeth asked. She was again worried, aware of each shade his face revealed.
“My dear,” he said, “I am not sure you understand these matters between men and women.”
“I want to understand… all between a wife and a husband,” she said stiffly.
“Yes, I agree, but a wife is…a woman and a husband is…a man, so…”
“Are you pleading for the consummation of our marriage before our wedding?” she asked.
“No—absolutely not!” he responded in a determined voice. “What happened in the carriage was marvellous, but you are right. We both were under a spell, or perhaps just happy to be together. For me, it was important to discover you, but we shall wait for the wedding night for more.”
Elizabeth looked at him and tried not to smile; she was certain Fitzwilliam could read her face and knew her inner thoughts, which at that moment were contradictory. From one point of view, she was glad he made that decision, but she also had regrets that further discovery was forbidden for at least two more weeks.
He gazed at her and smiled—that bizarre, insinuating smile that caused her heart to race. He wanted to say something, but Elizabeth covered his mouth with her delicate fingers.
His smile did not disappear as he kissed her fingers. “It is your decision, my love. We can marry as soon as I am back with the licence.”
It was a game, nothing but a game. They had decided the wedding day would be in two weeks. Still, Darcy liked most of all to see the little expressions on her face—wonder, confusion, shyness—each dear to him as they reflected her world that was about to change.
“So?” she insisted further. “Were there other women in your life?”
“Yes, there were, but no one, you need to know.”
“How is that?” she asked again with that confused face he adored.
“Because in the life of a twenty-eight-year-old man, there usually have existed women of a certain type.”
They were still sitting on the chaise, not touching. That distance had a particular advantage for Darcy and a disadvantage for Elizabeth. He could clearly see her blushing as she could not conceal her thoughts.
“I want to know…” Elizabeth said, quite uncertain of what she wanted to know.
“You will, I promise—even those secrets a man does not tell his wife-to-be. You are a special woman who needs to know, not out of pointless curiosity but because it is important to understand the relationship between a man and a woman. Now tell me, before I go to sleep, why are you still afraid?”
Elizabeth was not tired; on the contrary, she was in an unusual state of excitement. Other nights, when turmoil had kept her awake, were utterly forgotten. She did not want him to leave; they were amid an important discussion, and she feared that the magic, once interrupted, would be lost forever. She longed for his hands to be as daring as they had been in the carriage and prolong their delicious time together. But Darcy was exhausted, and he needed rest.
“I told you that I was jealous and afraid.”
“For jealousy, we will have a longer discussion one day. As for your fright, I do not understand the reasons, so I am waiting for you to share them with me.”
Fright and jealousy were closely related in her mind, but it was difficult to explain how.
“I am afraid of losing you,” she eventually admitted.
Darcy understood her well; it was one reason he suggested they marry in haste. Therefore, Elizabeth was right not to agree to marry in the following days. Such a rushed marriage would have revealed his fear, and he refused to be as afraid as he was in childhood. There were no motives that could change his intention of marrying Elizabeth. He had thrown away the key, and nothing could happen even if they should wait the two weeks she pleaded for.
“My dear,” he said as he stood and kissed her forehead, “we shall marry in two weeks in Hertfordshire. It is our decision, and nothing will change my mind. Only you can do that, but I shall ensure you want me so much that you cannot reject me again!”
He was laughing, and his mocking tone made Elizabeth feel a sudden urge to take him into her arms to be sure that this man would be hers, forever.
“Can I go now to sleep?” he asked jokingly. “It is past two o’clock in the morning, madam. I hope you have nothing against a late breakfast.”
And Elizabeth smiled looking around. She did not answer but it was clear she would enjoy a late morning in that lavishing room and luxurious bed that would be hers in two weeks.
She led him to the door and made a delicious move towards him inviting him to take her into his arms. They were both in such obvious need of a real kiss that he could no longer resist and folded her into his arms; then he stopped and said in a hoarse voice, “That discussion…about men and women…we shall have to have it very soon.”