Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
After walking in the Green Park and being seen as Mr Darcy’s fashionable and respectable new bride, Elizabeth returned home to reply to her invitations before preparing for Lady Summerlin’s ball.
Everybody who had ever visited Mr Darcy was disposed to pay him attention on his marriage.
She knew how concerned Darcy was that she be a credit to him.
However much he might approve of her, what mattered more to him was that society approved of her, especially considering Georgiana’s scandal.
She was at the small desk in Georgiana’s old room, taking advantage of the afternoon light, when Darcy came in. “Recording all your secret thoughts in your journal?”
“Managing your engagements, actually,” she said archly as he came farther into the room.
It had again been a few days since she had needed to unburden herself to her diary.
Darcy’s companionship had marked quite a change.
“Although, if you continue to tease me, I will be sure to make a lengthy note of your sporting behaviour toward me in my next journal entry. I am impressed by your improvement.”
“I have learnt from the best.”
She grinned at him. His manner was more wry, more quick quips than her own playfulness, but Darcy still had a sense of humour.
He featured prominently in every journal account.
His generosity, his kindness, his cleverness.
What thoughts and reflections did he have about her?
Were they the thoughts of a friend he respected, or could they be stronger and more fervent than that?
“You see all the dinner parties and evening parties made for you and your lady,” she said, gesturing to the table when she realised she had been staring at him, “and invitations are flowing in so fast that we will never have a disengaged day.” She looked over the stack.
“In the course of the autumn, I must return their civilities with one superior party.”
“You cannot begin all of that yet, because I must return to Pemberley. I am typically there in August and September, and matters can no longer be put off. I will leave tomorrow, after Lady Summerlin’s ball. I can get a few stages in before dark, even though we will have a late night.”
“You must be there for the Michaelmas season?” she asked.
Sunday was the twenty-ninth. Tenants would want to speak with Darcy to discuss their rates and deductions and harvest yields.
Mrs Reynolds would discuss hiring of servants.
His steward would want to meet with him to plan and budget for the following year.
“I will only be gone a fortnight, then all the parties honouring our marriage can resume.”
“Thank you for telling me.” She looked at the letters again, already deciding which ones she might accept alone and which ones to defer for after Darcy returned in October. She noticed he still hovered by the door, and then she looked up to see him turning a small parcel over in his hands.
He cleared his throat and came nearer. “Am I too late to add something to your preparations for tonight?”
Elizabeth rose and pointed toward the parcel. “What is it?”
“Something for your trinket box.”
She unwrapped it and opened the lid to see an aigrette made of diamonds.
The hair ornament was designed as a posy of flowers, grasses, and a single peacock feather tied by a ribbon.
The jewelled feather sat on a small hidden spring, mounted en tremblant, so that it trembled ever so slightly when she moved her head.
It was the prettiest thing she had ever seen.
“Darcy…” She stared at it, tracing her fingertips over the diamonds. “It is stunning. When did you get this?”
“I went to a jeweller in Ludgate Hill the other day.”
She supposed it must have been after another one of Miss Bingley’s taunts about her hair and dress not being fine enough for the great Mr Darcy.
If she did not know his character as well as she did, she might assume he found her lacking and wanted her to appear the part of the elegant bride worthy of a man of Darcy’s rank and wealth.
But by his manner, rather than his words, it was clear he simply wanted to make her happy.
She was extraordinarily fortunate to find a man like Darcy.
They were more similar in their inclinations and ways than she had first thought.
He had exceedingly good understanding and, to her surprise, a most amiable disposition and temper.
She may not have his love, but she was certain she had his admiration.
A rush of fondness for him washed over her.
If gratitude and esteem were good foundations of affection, Darcy had earned that weeks ago.
She was eager to spend time with him, adored hearing his opinions, enjoyed provoking him into a smile.
No time was better spent than a moment in discussion alone with him.
While before she had been determined to make the most of their situation, now Elizabeth was convinced she would be happy with him.
Had the man described to her as “dull” and who called her “tolerable” conquered her heart by tender sentiment and serious conversations?
She had fallen in love with him. She did not know when she married him with a borrowed ring in Scotland that she would ever love Darcy as she did now. And, more than that, she had the greatest hope of creating a regard for herself deep in Darcy’s heart that matched her own feelings.
“They had a fine selection of hair ornaments, but I asked for a slight change and arranged to have it delivered today. I have no inventive fancy to design something for you,” he went on, “but I thought you would like what I had found. It originally had an array of different coloured stones about the ribbon, but I asked them to replace them all with diamonds. Then, then it could match whatever colour gown you wore and—”
Elizabeth set down the box and put her fingertips on his mouth, feeling his breath escape him.
The gesture was intended to silence him, not elicit an overpowering desire to replace her fingertips with her lips.
Now, that was all she wanted to do. There was enough heat in his eyes to warm her courage, and she moved her hand to cup his cheek and pressed a light, lingering kiss to his lips.
Darcy kissed her back instantly, with no hesitation, and she moaned a little in delighted surprise.
One arm curved around her waist and the other went to her hair, his fingertips teasing along her nape.
She parted her lips on a breath, and Darcy gently coaxed her lips open and their tongues touched, sending shivers of pleasure across her.
He kissed her slowly, patiently, like he was savouring every moment.
She wanted him to pull her nearer until he was touching her everywhere, as closely as their lips fit together.
Instead, after a few more seconds of bliss, he dragged his lips from hers and put both hands on her hips.
They stared at one another for a breathless moment, both of them unsure what to do or say.
After a moment, he looked at her hair rather than into her eyes. He tried to push tendrils back into place and then gave up. “I am afraid I have ruined your hair.”
“I do not mind,” she said quickly, hoping to imply that she would welcome any disarray if it accompanied kisses like that.
He smiled and gave a long look to her mouth that made her heart pound before the clock chimed the hour.
He let her go, and the reluctance in his looks at doing so made her hope that he might someday love her back.
“I, I suppose we ought to get ready for tonight, though I would rather—Lady Summerlin will ask you to begin the ball; we must not be late.”
She nodded, wishing they could stay in together and kiss and talk more rather than dance at a ball until dawn. “Yes, you must be right. Will you ask me to dance, or are you too correct to dance with your own wife?”
She saw him hold back a smile and try to be serious. “Am I not an old married man, and my dancing days are over? That is the greatest benefit of being married: I am no longer expected to stand up with every lady obliged to sit down.”
“Will you retreat to the card room, then, with all the other old men?”
He tried again to tuck back a lock of hair that had fallen from its pin. The look of concentration on his face was endearing. “No. I cannot believe the new bride will find herself without a partner, but if you sit down once, I will be at your side in an instant to ask you to dance.”
Elizabeth wanted to put her arms around his shoulders and kiss him again. She could never tire of the feel of Darcy’s hands on her, or his lips over hers. But she satisfied herself by saying, “Thank you, for the aigrette, for thinking of me.”
Darcy bowed, and then handed her the jewellery box, before gesturing to the door that she ought to precede him out.
In her own chamber, she set the aigrette box on her toilet table, and dressed for the ball with much of the happy agitations that typically belongs to a ball but, in her case, it was all due to her hopes for Darcy.
She loved him, but did he want her affection, to love her in return? Or was this simply a part of the friendly marriage they had agreed upon? His being able to love her certainly seemed more possible now than it did in the innyard in Gretna Green.
Darcy watched Elizabeth open the ball with Lord Summerlin and knew she would not sit down until the carriage was called at dawn.
He saw with pleasure the elegance of her appearance, and how much she smiled.
He noticed other guests watch her too, and saw there were few persons present who were not disposed to praise her.
She was attractive; she was modest; she was lively.
It was enough to give Elizabeth general favour amongst his circle.