Chapter 22 #2
Elizabeth covered her face with her hands as shame crushed her heart. She heard Darcy move around the bed and then he gently pulled down her hands. She wished she had the right to hold his.
“Georgiana stole from you and violated your trust, and Wickham would have rejoiced to disgrace us. You may have kept a secret from me, but their behaviour is not your fault.”
“I allowed them to nearly ruin us. I should have listened to you, but I so badly wanted to do something that would make you happy. I thought I could convince her.”
“She is wretchedly blind,” he insisted, “even if she could not bring herself to ruin you. You take care of your sisters, and so you wanted to protect Georgiana. You want to repair my relationship with her, but that is not your responsibility or even in your power.” As though a thought had just come to him, he mused, “I wonder if you are so concerned with taking care of people because no one took care of you?”
Elizabeth was struck silent as he continued. “Whom have you ever relied on in your whole life? You never turned to your parents for help, I am sure of it.”
“They, they do love me,” she stammered.
“I never said they do not. I said you could not rely on them. You have an indolent father who mocks everyone, and a mother incapable of exertion who favours some of her children over others. In Ramsgate, did you think to send for your father to rush to London to intercept Lydia? You went to Ramsgate to care for Kitty and mind Lydia because you knew your mother would not. Neither in a crisis nor in your daily life could you depend on anyone.”
“I, I can turn to Jane for sympathy, and my friend Charlotte for advice. And, and the Gardiners would help if I asked.”
“I agree they would, if you ever thought to impose on them. But neglectful parents taught you to manage things on your own.”
Elizabeth dropped her gaze. He was right.
She felt even more foolish now for not confiding in Darcy when Wickham made his threat.
She could depend on Darcy—had, in fact, seen him as trustworthy and capable within days of meeting him.
Had he not proven it when she begged for his help with Lydia?
Darcy was responsible and wanted to take care of everyone, and by not turning to him, she had insulted that part of his nature as much as she hurt him with her lies.
She tilted her head to look up at Darcy. He watched her, but although she saw no sign that he would send her away, it was still unclear what was the state of her marriage. “I am tired of looking up at you. Will you not sit?”
Aside from the chair by the table on the other side of the room, there was nowhere to sit but on the bed. Darcy hesitated, but sat next to her on the edge, the stolen items resting between them.
“You are right; I had no one to truly rely on. I have been in the habit of knowing what to do for myself, because I could not depend on anyone else. But I should have known I could turn to you for help and depend on you not to believe Wickham.”
“I should not have assumed you would rely on me simply because you married me. You did not choose me, either. Marrying me was just the consequence of a series of strange events, after all. And I should never have let you believe that public opinion and ton gossip mattered more to me than your happiness.” He sighed and looked away.
“I hate that you did this in service to me. I hate that I made you feel you owed me something. That I cared more about my reputation than you.”
“You never did that,” she insisted. “I wanted to give you what you wanted most. You wanted your family name to not be disgraced and for your sister to live apart from Wickham.”
He snapped his head around to look at her. “That is not what I want most. What I want most is for my wife to love me back.”
Doubt, surprise, and hope alternately prevailed. “You want me to love you back?” she repeated.
“You look perplexed, dearest,” he whispered, taking her hand in his.
“I never felt more at a loss for words.”
“But does the idea of my loving you make you happy?”
She gave a strangled laugh. “It is such a surprise as could only add to my happiness!” She tugged his hand to her lips to kiss it. “I scarcely thought you would allow yourself to love me, given our beginning.”
“Regardless of the beginning,” he said slowly, “I think when you marry someone, you submit to the union. You take a knee and say, ‘I will do whatever is in my power to meet their needs.’ And the next time you are in need, I hope you will turn to me rather than keep it a secret.”
“I thought I was doing all in my power to meet your needs by bringing Georgiana home and then by keeping Wickham silent.”
“I never wanted a wife who thought she had to oblige me.”
“You also never wanted a wife you did not choose.”
“I wanted a companion, someone I could speak to on any subject, a woman with wit who roused me, interested me. Someone who could understand me more deeply than anyone else. Someone who will not make me guess her opinions.”
She laughed a little. “There is no mistaking that.”
Darcy brought his other hand up to her cheek. “And through mischance and misadventure, I found that person.”
“I am sorry,” she whispered. “I was so afraid, but that is no excuse. How can I atone for lying, stealing, and not trusting you?”
“I am sorry too, for making you doubt my constancy and devotion.” He leant a little closer. “But I would rather hear again that you love me.”
“You really have come to love me?” she whispered.
“I love you with an unalterable ardour.”
Her heart lodged in her throat to hear him say the words. “I love you too.”
“Tell me again,” he said roughly. “If it is true, say it again.”
“I knew very early that I could cherish you through life, but now I love you with all the enthusiasm and passion you could hope for.”
He drew her forward, his fingers through her hair as his thumbs tipped her chin up.
The kiss was so fast and so deep that she had to cling to him to keep her balance before kissing him back.
He took advantage of her surprised but pleasured gasp to coax open her lips.
She felt his satisfying sigh when their tongues touched and the tension in his shoulders under her hands fell away.
He wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her against his chest. The moan that slipped from her mouth startled him.
Darcy broke the kiss, his lips pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I should—”
“Stay.” Despite how his gaze dropped back to her mouth, he seemed reluctant. “You must have thought me ready to yield to you after kissing you in the library.”
“I would rather your attitude not be in terms of ‘yielding’ or ‘submitting.’”
“What about ‘enjoying’?”
His gaze was gratifyingly dark, and his voice dipped low. “Enjoying is a good word.”
Elizabeth placed a hand out to steady herself before kissing him again, but lost her balance as she landed on the diamonds and journal. Feeling mortified all over again, she hastily picked them up and put them on the table before crawling back to kneel on the bed next to him.
Avoiding his searching look, she asked, “Did you read it?”
“No,” he answered, to her surprise. “Your privacy has been violated enough.” He traced his fingertips across her hand before taking her wrist to put her hand back around his shoulder.
“If you want…” He struggled with what to say, and Elizabeth’s embarrassment was excruciating.
It was one thing to have a desire or even to engage in an intimate act; it was an entirely different thing to speak about it.
“If you want me to know what you like or what you want, then just tell me.”
She was certain she blushed. “I don’t know what to ask for that would not shock or offend you. Or disappoint you.”
“Elizabeth, there is not an inch of your body that I don’t want to see, touch, and taste.”
Her breath caught. It was a staggering statement, but it matched her own feelings perfectly. She wanted so badly to touch him, to feel him, and now she could. She pressed a swift, hard kiss to his mouth, greedily taking what he gave her.
Darcy soon left her lips, dragging his teeth over her bottom lip before moving down the length of her neck, his hand still cradling her neck while the other tugged down the collar of her dressing gown, and pressing a kiss above her shoulder.
“I liked when you kissed my neck in the library.” He threaded his fingers through the hair at her temple and brushed it back while he gently kissed her neck.
“You could—you could kiss me a little more.” He stopped, and she regretted interrupting him, but then he leant close to her ear and nipped at the lobe before sucking it hard.
A heady tumult of sensations overpowered her and he continued the same motion of tongue, lips, and teeth along the curve between her shoulder and her neck.
His fingertips dragged over the slopes of her breasts and down her sides until he finally palmed one of them, making her arch into him with a moan.
The pleasure of it was exquisite, and she wanted to tear all of her clothes away.
Her whole body tightened and her breasts ached.
Elizabeth let her head fall forward onto his shoulder as she raked her hands up his back.
He was too fully clothed. She tried to untie his cravat as he kissed her, but he sat up, helping her to unwind it before he tore off his coat.
While he did, she kissed the line of his jaw and across his neck, and he tilted his head back.
“Do you like that too?” she stammered as she unfastened his waistcoat buttons.
She had just used her teeth, and his answer was something between a growl and a moan.
He pulled away to throw his shirt over his head.
She outlined the contours of his chest and shoulders with her fingertips and was still admiring him when he tugged open her dressing gown and she had to stop touching him to pull her arms from it.