Chapter 33
He leant towards her, gently cradling her face in his hands and teasing her mouth with his before deepening the kiss.
She had forgotten how affected she was by him.
Every sense swirled within her—the scent, the feel, even the sound of him kissing her in this way.
She knew that in some ways she was likely torturing him; indeed, it was a torture for her too.
He pulled back and closed his eyes for a moment before asking, at last, “Is this a part of my punishment?”
She giggled. “It is. I am going to make you kiss me ardently at least ten times a day.”
“That is hardly a punishment, though the unrelieved effect on me perhaps will be. But let us speak of you, please.”
Elizabeth started by telling him much of what was in the remainder of the letters from Yorkshire: how she had tried valiantly to be of good cheer, believing in the advice of her aunt that if she could only sound accepting and not vex him, he would eventually wish to reconcile with her.
He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Mrs Gardiner meant well, I suppose.”
“She did.” Elizabeth nodded sadly, then went on to tell him of her dark days in Yorkshire. “Weeping and walking and sleeping. Then, when I realised I might be increasing and decided to leave, I became focused on that. With rare exception, I did not cry after that.”
“Did you think long on your decision to depart?”
“No, I gave it hardly any thought at all. I could not subject my child to the life there. I was more afraid to imagine what might happen if I did not survive the birth. Would Mrs Nelson have cared for him? You were not responding to my letters, so I could not know what you thought or would do with him. I had many dreams in which I saw Mrs Nelson taking my baby to the foundling hospital.”
With an unmoving gaze on her husband, she asked, “Did you know how it was in Yorkshire before you went there yourself?”
“I had no idea,” Darcy admitted. “It belongs to a friend of Fitzwilliam, but that is no excuse. I should have asked more about it.”
“I am sure, thinking of me as you did, that my comfort was not much of a concern to you.”
“I could only really think of how much I wished you separate from your lover. I did not want him to be able to find you.”
Seemingly from nowhere, a tear fell from his eye. Elizabeth was shocked by it but reached over and dabbed it away.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I had a sudden vision of you there, so very alone—it really does grieve me. I am so sorry for what you suffered.”
“It is in the past,” she said gently, and for the first time, she meant it.
Darcy swallowed hard. “I want you to be happy. I know you have been unhappy, and afraid and sad, and I want you to know that if you cannot live with me, if our situation is unfixable, I could…I am willing to…go elsewhere. If you will it, I could live most of my time in Pemberley while you remained in London with Bennet, or vice versa. I shall tell you that although I would hate it, if it would bring you more true happiness, I would do that for you.”
This made Elizabeth laugh. “Now you wish to know whether I would like to send you off? Goodness, what is to become of this family if all we do when we are sad or angry is send each other off?”
“I only wish for your peace and joy. I am willing to do anything for that.”
Elizabeth studied him carefully. “No, I do not want you to live apart from us. Is that not why we have undertaken this discussion? So that we might improve things between us?
“I did not mean it when I said I hated you. I was angry, very angry, and I wanted to lash out. In truth, I have at times hated myself for being so weak and allowing my love for you to overwhelm my need to exercise prudence and caution for the sake of my heart.
“I shall prove myself to you,” Darcy promised. “I shall earn your trust, if you will permit me to.”
Elizabeth smiled but could say nothing to this assertion; so much had been said already that needed evaluation and further consideration. She dearly wanted to believe him, and believe in him, but her fears could not be so easily dismissed.
With a deep sigh, Elizabeth said, “I find I am quite weary of this room and, indeed, of everything within-doors. What say you to a brief stroll of the garden? I need fresh air.” Darcy agreed, and they parted briefly to prepare.
In her bedchamber, Elizabeth paused for a moment, pulling from a drawer the first letter Darcy wrote, the one that initiated all of this. Her eyes fell upon a passage she had particularly appreciated when first she had read it:
I love you today even more ardently than the day I asked you to be forever mine, and even more passionately than the day you vowed that you would. I would give anything I own to have your love once more.
Her finger gently traced his words as she tentatively explored the feelings in her.
What is it that I want here? Is it recompense?
Retribution? Those things cannot make me happy.
They cannot make our marriage alive again, nor can they remove the sorrow in him—or in me.
If I am ready to let go of this, it will be our love that soothes us while our trust and faith can grow.
I want to have hope and trust and faith in him, and in our marriage again. I wish for us to be in love as we once were. I wish for us to have true happiness between us. It is a risk, and it is terribly frightening, but I believe I am prepared to face it.
To build trust, you have to start with trust. If your heart is closed, you cannot begin. I suppose it is the faith and love you have in one another that allows you to open your heart to another.
Darcy knocked at her door, and she bid him come in. Pulling his gloves on, he remarked, “Perhaps we should see how Bennet is occupied; he might wish for a bit of outdoor time.”
She looked at him, and she realised that she could no longer deny how much she loved him and wanted him.
In her, there was a sense, almost palpable, of release from the fears and sorrows that had bound her for so long, and in their place, was simple love and the beginnings of a desire to place her faith and trust in him once more.
“Come here,” she said.
Uncertainly, he walked closer to her. She took his hand, tugging off the gloves he had just put on, then reached for his cravat, untying and undoing it before tossing it towards a nearby chair. She then slid her hands beneath his coat, easing it off his shoulders and dropping it behind her.
“What…what are you…”
“Has it been so long that you forgot?” She smiled up at him, feeling still a little unsure but hopeful.
“No,” he said in a voice suddenly deeper and husky. “No, I could never forget. But do you want—”
“You?” She smiled at him. “I do. If you want me too, that is.”
“Of course I do.” Tentatively, he raised his hand to her hair, smoothing back her curls. “Is this…can I do this?”
“Yes,” she whispered, and he reached into her hair, sliding out the pins that held it up. The heavy mass fell, her curls springing about wildly.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, then leant in, kissing her with an ardency that grew quickly.
Although she understood her need for him, she could not have anticipated the depth of her longing. When he kissed her, she wanted to revel in the taste of his mouth, and when they had removed their clothes and lay side by side, she pressed towards him, wanting them to join.
“You are certain?” he whispered.
“Yes. Quite certain.”
It seemed as though their coupling encompassed every bit of her, and when he moved within her, she grasped on to him, wanting him deeper. There was so much emotion and love for him within her, it was nigh on unbearable, and the depth of pleasure he gave her was sweetly agonising.
When it was over, they lay still, her head resting on his chest while his hand played idly with her hair.
“It is not so many weeks until we are married three years.”
Elizabeth laughed lightly. “Strange as that may seem.”
“I wish I could do it again.”
“Which part of it?”
“All of it,” he replied. “Ask for your hand, ask for your father’s consent, and then stand in a church and tell you and God and our witnesses all over again how much I love you, and how I vow to care for you and protect you forever.
Do it all properly this time, with no haste, no selfishness, and no resentful temper to mar us. ”
Elizabeth tilted her head and looked up into his eyes. “Well then: Will you love me, comfort me, keep me in sickness and in health, and forsake all others?”
He gazed at her seriously. “I shall love you beyond reason and provide you comfort to the utmost of my ability. I shall keep you always, and if you are sick, I shall stay by your side until you are well again. As far as forsaking all others—there are no others. There is only you, Elizabeth. Always and forever, only you.”
“Will you have me and hold me from this day forward? Love me and cherish me until death do us part?”
He gently kissed the tip of her nose. “I shall have you and hold you and never let you go. I do love you…with my heart and my soul and my entire being. I cherish the day I met you, and still more, I shall cherish this day, when you have allowed me to dedicate myself to you anew. You are more to me than my own life, my dearest wife. There is nothing on this earth I would not give to you or do for you.”
“That is quite a vow,” she said softly.
“Yet there is more, for I shall also pledge to you honesty and faith and my belief in your good character, your wisdom, and your strength. I promise that I shall never fail you again, that I shall protect you from all harm and all sorrow forevermore. I shall be a man worthy of your love.”
She could not answer this. Happy tears clouded her eyes, and felicity choked her such that she could only squeak out, “Thank you. That makes me so happy.”
Darcy tightened his hold on her, kissing her gently.
She felt a dampness against her cheek, telling her that he cried too, and it released her, sobbing with the freedom of at last loving him as she had wished to all along.
She had felt so very alone for what seemed to be an eternity, that to be held and comforted so was exquisite.
Elizabeth felt herself slipping under the tide of her emotions as his tears mingle with hers, and she enjoyed the sweet sensation of resting in his embrace.
Somewhat incoherently, she said, “I know I have not been truly willing to try and make our life happy…I was afraid…I am still a little afraid, but not really…”
Darcy, too, was a bit insensible, and he began to kiss her tears away. “I shall make you happy, I shall earn your trust, I promise you that. You will never have cause to fear me again. I shall do all I can to fix what I have broken between us. I have changed…”
“I know,” Elizabeth said. “I believe you, truly I do.”
It was unsurprising, given the nights of lost sleep and the turmoil of their emotions, that Darcy and Elizabeth both retired early on the day of their tentative reconciliation.
Although exhausted, Darcy could not forgo the opportunity to again kiss and hold her.
After some time, she snuggled against him, wrapping her leg around his and throwing her arm across his waist. Her head lay on his chest, and he reached for her plait, loosening the tie around it and allowing her hair to flow freely over him.
She giggled. “You never have believed what I say about my hair. There will be tenfold more of it in the morning, and you will be inhaling it in your sleep.”
“I shall gladly inhale it all night long, but if you wish it plaited, I can do that. I would not wish you to suffer tangles.”
“You know how to plait hair?”
He paused a moment in the darkened room, then admitted, “I used to.”
“Did you? But why?”
He shrugged. “I was guardian to a young girl. At times, there was no one else around, and her hair required plaiting.”
“Now this I must see.” She sat up and turned her back to him, pushing her hair behind her. “I must warn you though, curly hair such as mine can be more difficult to plait than straighter hair like Georgiana’s.”
“Is this a challenge? I shall have this plaited so quickly, you will be amazed.”
He sat behind her, gathering her hair and attempting to divide it into parts.
He soon realised what the problem was—curls sprung free, seemingly with a life of their own, and her hair appeared to grow as he worked on it.
The strands of hair seemed to work themselves into knots as well as between his fingers.
Just when he believed he had a semblance of a good plait, he then discovered half of the side had worked itself loose.
He tried not to curse in frustration; instead, chuckling lightly, he combed through it with his fingers and then informed her, “Wait here, I shall summon Blake.”
She laughed. “No, I can fix this. I have enjoyed your efforts however.”
While she busied herself with tidying her hair, he excused himself for a moment. When he returned, he extended to her a small box. “I have something for you.”
“What is it?” She smiled as she took it from him.
He gently caressed her cheek with the back of his hand then urged her to open it.
The box contained a beautiful ring, with several rose cut diamonds and emeralds. The band bore the inscription de m'amour soiez sure—of my love be sure.
Darcy took the ring from the box and slid it onto her finger, atop her wedding band. The two fit together nicely, as he had hoped they would when he had commissioned it from the jeweller’s. He took her hand and gently kissed each knuckle.
“It is so beautiful,” she said. “I shall wear it always.”