Part 4
Darcy paced the room, then stopped and glanced at his image in the mirror for a moment, brushing his fingers through his hair and over his face.
He found himself wondering whether the dressing gown he had chosen showed him to good enough advantage, or should he have picked the green one?
He smiled and shook his head at his own silliness; she had already told him that it was not his appearance that made her approve or disapprove of him.
She had even confessed she had found him exceedingly handsome the first time she saw him, at the Meryton assembly, a year ago.
More precisely, a year, a month, and a fortnight ago.
The same evening, he had called her tolerable and firmly refused to dance with her.
The evening when his arrogance and pride had thrown him into a year of turmoil and taught him compassion, humility, and how difficult it was to please a woman worthy of being pleased.
She had found him handsome, and he had pronounced her tolerable.
She had despised him when he had been madly in love with her.
He smiled again, shaking his head at his mirror image.
What a ridiculous, arrogant, selfish, and pompous fool he had been!
And yet, somehow, he had been fortunate enough to accomplish the impossible—to change her opinion of him and gain her affection.
Her love. He had found the courage to propose again, not with the arrogance of assuming she would accept but with the humbleness of hoping she would.
And she had. He remembered, moment by moment, that walk, his proposal, her acceptance, and the first time his lips had touched her bare hands after he had removed her gloves.
And his. The joy and pleasure he had felt in that moment, he would never forget, regardless of how much delight her company had brought him since—and the years of bliss that would come.
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
He still could not believe that on the other side of the door, Elizabeth Bennet was preparing for her first night in their London home. No, not Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth Darcy. His wife.
Fate—and the Gardiners—had brought her to Pemberley in August. To his home.
To him. And, although she had been forced to leave in a hurry because of that poor excuse for a man, Wickham, who had eloped with her sister, her presence at Pemberley meant her presence back in his life.
In only a few days, their hearts and minds had reconnected in a better understanding, which slowly washed away all their past disagreements.
“Half of my heart remained at Pemberley when I was not even certain that you still wanted me,” Elizabeth had confessed to him one day, after their engagement.
“When you left, I wanted you more than ever, though I was not even certain you would have me,” he had admitted to her on the same day.
The subject was too painful for both, and they had soothed each other with a tight embrace and a sweet, tender kiss.
Since that day, they had learnt to discuss any subject, as painful and uncomfortable as it might be.
And their sweet kisses had become more passionate and less restrained every day until they were finally married in Longbourn church.
In a test of his sanity, there had been a lot of rainy days when they could not get lost during a walk, and they were forced to content themselves with quiet conversations and holding hands surreptitiously in the midst of her boisterous family.
His self-control was severely tried when Elizabeth was near!
Not that being in the crowded parlour at Longbourn meant there had been no kisses!
In addition to Elizabeth—and thankfully in a different way—Mrs Bennet had also kissed him, Darcy thought with amusement.
She had called him tall and handsome several times a day, enquired as to his preferences on every subject, and made sure to greet him enthusiastically on every visit.
And she had mentioned his ten thousand pounds a year only when she believed he could not hear.
But Darcy did not mind, as his mother-in-law’s flaws were compensated for by her willingness not to upset him, and therefore she allowed him ample privacy with Elizabeth.
He and Elizabeth married in a double wedding ceremony with Bingley and Jane.
His new sister, with her sweet, gentle heart, generously forgave his outrageous intervention that had caused her and his friend so much pain.
He had not known Jane for a week—really known her—before realising he would come to care for her as much as for his own sister.
Which was only fair since Elizabeth and Georgiana were already bound together through a deep, sisterly affection, just as he had hoped and prayed for.
Except for Georgiana and his cousin Richard, the rest of his family was still opposed to his marriage.
And so, probably, were all those who had known him and held other expectations in regard to him.
Lady Catherine remained in a rage, but after her visit to Longbourn and all the offences she had thrown at Elizabeth that day and afterwards, Darcy had rejected any further association with her.
He had demanded apologies on behalf of his betrothed, which Lady Catherine had refused to even consider; therefore Darcy had cut off their connection.
With Anne, he still exchanged words through her correspondence with Colonel Fitzwilliam, and he hoped she would soon have the courage to free herself from her mother’s hurtful influence.
His uncle and aunt had been surprised and had voiced many objections to Elizabeth.
Their first concern, though, was their certainty that Elizabeth was a fortune-hunter and had trapped him into marriage, having no affection for him.
He needed much patience to explain that he had been the one who had struggled to pursue and win her.
Not even the colonel’s amused interventions and stories about Elizabeth’s dislike of Darcy could convince the family; however, a truce was established, and in order not to break family ties, the Matlocks agreed not to express public disapproval of the marriage, or of Elizabeth, and to withhold judgment until they knew her better.
Elizabeth, of course, was too intelligent not to assume as much.
She confessed she was ready to confront the world by his side, while he would do anything to protect her.
‘Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth’, he had called her on the day of his second proposal, and so many times since then.
She enjoyed calling him ‘my dear Mr Darcy’, and, at times, ‘Fitzwilliam’.
Except for in their moments of stolen intimacy, when she called him ‘my love’.
The two words on her lips were a palliation for all his past distress.
And the taste of those lips was the sweetest and most intoxicating liquor he had ever enjoyed.
The wedding ceremony had been beautiful—people said.
But he remembered little of it. He and Elizabeth had left immediately after the breakfast, since he was eager to finally be at home with her—alone.
He did not remember the long goodbyes nor the promises to write often or to see each other soon that they had exchanged with various people.
If he were to be honest, he barely recalled making certain Georgiana was well taken care of and would be conveyed to London, to their relatives’ house, where she would stay for the next few days.
He did remember, however, that in the carriage, as he held her tightly in his arms, Elizabeth had shyly confessed how happy she was to be alone with him too.
They had stayed in that embrace for most of the journey, and now his arms felt empty without her.
Elizabeth was in the mistress’s rooms, with her maid, preparing for the night.
She was to take a hot bath—as he had, except that he had been too eager to enjoy it properly.
A bold thought crossed his mind as he pondered that his bath was large enough for both of them.
His senses were aroused as he imagined himself submerged in the hot water, holding Elizabeth close to him, her back against his chest, his hands caressing her under the water…
That was one of his more stirring dreams—one that had troubled him too many times to count—and one of the very few he did not dare confess to her. Not yet.
He continued his agitated pacing, and for a moment he was tempted to pour himself a drink, but he already felt light-headed and intoxicated by her presence, even while she was on the other side of the door.
No, he would not drink anything; his mind was already inflamed with anticipation of their wedding night, and he needed to keep the little clarity and restraint he still possessed.
He might enjoy a glass of wine with Elizabeth when she was ready. Until then, he would have to wait.