Part 4 #2
He sat at his desk, pulling out the drawer.
Inside, there was a velvet box with the set of cut gems he had commissioned for her after their engagement, intending to offer it as a gift for Christmastide.
He had already presented her with the set of jewels inherited from his mother and meant for his wife, and she had received it with a shyness and gratitude that touched his soul.
It was the first time in many years that he had allowed his less happy memories of his mother to come to life, and he had shared them with Elizabeth.
They had been in Mr Bennet’s library, but she had not hesitated to hold him tight and to kiss him when emotions overcame him.
Her sweet, loving kisses—which he had so often dreamt about—had proved to be much more delightful than in his imagination.
Her love, once gained, was greater than he had imagined, in every possible way.
The ways he had already experienced, he mused with a smile.
There was much more to discover together, much more to share, beginning with that night, and, God willing, for many years to come.
There would be their first Christmas spent together, the first Christmas full of utter happiness since his parents had died.
Elizabeth, with her affectionate heart, her bright eyes, and her genuine smile, had brought back joy and liveliness into his life and into Georgiana’s life as well.
The realisation that he had once believed her to be unsuited to the role of his wife, his poor and unsuccessful attempt to conceal and to repress his admiration, love, and passion for her made him laugh at his own foolishness.
She was the only woman in the world perfectly suited to him, and once he had noticed her fine eyes and begun to fall in love with her, he was lost. No distance, no effort, no self-control could save him from that unexpected love—and for that, he was grateful every day.
Now the tormenting past was over, the blissful present had arrived, anticipating the happiest future a man might find in his marriage.
Yes, he expected they would disagree often, even argue, and she would tease him often, but regardless, he would be happy to have her in his life, in his arms, by his side.
For that Christmas, he made carefully detailed plans to surprise her and to turn it into a memorable one.
First, they would have kissing boughs all over the house, a custom about which he had heard but always proclaimed ridiculously silly.
There was no better way to allow him to kiss Elizabeth whenever he wished than under one of those, even if they had company, and if that made him, Fitzwilliam Darcy, laughable, it was all worth it.
He also heard, from his cousin the colonel, who was always informed about the latest fashions in London society, that Queen Charlotte had brought a German tradition to England, that of erecting a tree in the house, specially decorated for Christmas.
He had managed to secure one—though he did not even know how it was meant to look—to delight Elizabeth and Georgiana.
He had already received several invitations to Twelfth Night parties, which he had been in the habit of declining in previous years.
Now, he would talk to Elizabeth, and they would decide together which to attend.
To him, it mattered little. He would be proud to accompany her wherever she wanted to go, but his secret, strongest, and most selfish desire would be to stay at home, in the comfort of their house, with maybe just Georgiana and a few close relatives, with music from her and his sister, and Elizabeth’s bright, clear voice singing at midnight to welcome in the new year, the first of their life together.
However, he knew Elizabeth enjoyed being in society, so her wish was his foremost concern.
After all, as he had told her a long time ago, during their first dance together, he would by no means suspend any pleasure of hers, he mused, closing his eyes with anticipation of all the pleasure and all the dances they would share in their life together.
Darcy took the jewellery box and placed it on the table beside the bed. It would be the first gift he offered her as his wife. Near it, he spotted the book of poetry by Wordsworth, and he picked it up with a smile.
WHAT need of clamorous bells, or ribands gay,
These humble nuptials to proclaim or grace?
Angels of love, look down upon the place [4]
The man who had bought it and the man who was now holding it were so different!
His life and his spirit were different, because of her.
And his heart was not broken any longer; nor was it bleeding.
It had healed six weeks ago, when she had accepted his second marriage proposal.
From the pages of the book, he took out the card, read the words he had written on it, and smiled again.
They could not be more untrue, and he needed to correct them, even though the card was now useless and should be consigned to the fire.
The memories surrounding it were too painful—a terrifying dream that still filled him with anguish when he recollected it.
He took up his pen and…
“Fitzwilliam?”
Elizabeth’s voice startled him, and he placed the card back inside the book, then raised his eyes, his heart skipping a beat as he forgot to breathe.
She was looking at him from the doorway between their rooms, her hands behind her back, trying to close the door without turning, her hair loose over her shoulders, dressed only in a gossamer robe over a flimsy-looking nightgown that shimmered and clung to her body, revealing more than covering her soft figure.
He immediately hurried to her, and he could see her eyes watching him curiously. It was the first time they had seen each other so informally attired, and their mutual shyness was endearing.
“Have I come too early? Am I disturbing you? I knocked,” she said, her brow furrowed in anxiety.
He took her hands in his, raising them to his mouth, tantalising her fingers with his lips.
“There is no need for you to knock. Not now and not ever. Would you like to step farther into my room? Or would you prefer that we go into your own room?” he asked gently.
She lifted her face to him, biting her lower lip in a gesture that he knew indicated nervousness.
“I just want to be with you,” she whispered. “I have no other preference.”
He could not fail to reward such a statement, and he lowered his head as his lips brushed over hers briefly.
His senses were so sharp, his desire so overwhelming, that his impulse was to take her into his arms and never let her go until she became his wife in every way.
But he needed to calm himself. He needed to be patient, and he needed all the strength of his self-control for that.
His desires meant little compared with her happiness.
The heat inside him was almost unbearable; however, he felt her shivering.
“Are you cold, my love?” he asked.
“Oh no…”
“Would you like to sit by the fire for a moment? We could sit and… Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes, thank you,” she agreed with obvious relief. She was indeed nervous, and she smiled at him as he placed a blanket over her bare feet to keep her warm, then poured a glass of wine for each of them. He sat on the chair opposite, only inches away from her.
“Will you not sit next to me, Mr Darcy?”
“I shall, but I need a moment to admire you from a distance, Mrs Darcy. I need to compose myself, as you have taken my breath away.”
“Are you trying to flatter me, sir?”
“No indeed, madam. As you know, I only speak the truth. Besides, I have no use for flattery now, since I have already tricked you into marrying me.”
“It is a wonder that while you once did not find me tempting enough to dance with, later I seemed to improve on you. You thought me pretty enough at one time and then proposed to me. My mother is still in disbelief at your change of opinion, for she thought you a man with an entirely unalterable mind! And I always agree with her, as you well know,” she concluded mischievously.
He leant towards her. “At this moment, I do not care much for your mother’s disbelief, madam. But I am quite eager to clarify any doubt you may have and to prove to you just how much you tempt me.”
He spoke in earnest, and she laughed again, her eyes sparkling, while the lines of anxiety on her face slowly disappeared. She leant towards him too, mirroring his gesture.
“I have no doubts left, Mr Darcy. But I am eager to see any proof you are willing to show me,” she teased.
From several inches away, her eyes seemed ablaze. No words were needed. They still did not move, only caressed each other with their eyes. Both shivered, although it was quite warm by the fire.
Eventually, he stood and stretched out his hand to her.
She put her hand in his, then let out a little cry when he lifted her and carried her to the bed.
Having her so close to him, he could not resist, and he pressed his lips against hers.
There were only a few steps to walk, enough to satiate their thirst with a kiss sweeter and more intoxicating than the wine.
He placed her on the edge of the bed and sat next to her. Their gazes were still dark with passion, their fingers entwined, and both were struggling to breathe steadily, their lips still carrying the taste of each other.
“What is that?” she unexpectedly enquired, taking him by surprise and making him follow her gaze.
“That? Oh…it is a set that I purchased for you after our engagement. I wanted it to be my first gift to you after you became my wife…”
“That is so generous of you! But please know I do not need more gifts. You have already given me so much and done so much for me and my fam—”
He silenced her with another kiss, forbidding her from returning to the subject of foolish sisters and the debts of scoundrels, which had already been far too much discussed between them.
Her hands found their way to his back and slowly moved to his shoulders.
Their kiss grew more passionate, as if neither of them could get enough of it.
He gently untied her robe and pulled it from her shoulders, then she suddenly stopped and pulled a few inches away from him, breathing rapidly.
“I wonder… That book, next to the jewellery box… By a strange coincidence, it appears to be precisely the book I was reading in the drawing-room at Netherfield. I believe it was the evening you expressed your opinion about accomplished ladies.”
He fought to regain his composure, as his passion was harder to cool than hers, and finally replied, “It is no coincidence. I bought it because I remembered you reading it. I found it in a bookshop when I first went to observe the Gardiners’ house, in January. I felt I needed to have it.”
“Oh…this is so moving!” she exclaimed, clearly touched by his admission and frowning slightly in recollection.
Then she reached across to pick up the book.
Her figure moving slowly, caressed by the silky nightgown, was so alluring that chills ran down his spine, and he needed to swallow to regain his wits.
She seemed unaware of the effect she had on him, as she was only curious to see the book.
She held it in her hands and looked back at him.
“It was the evening when Miss Bingley invited me to take a refreshing stroll about the room to attract your attention,” she said with amusement.
“Indeed. And she succeeded. My attention was indeed fully engaged, as I thought only of you the entire night and could hardly sleep at all. That night and many others.”
She laughed and caressed his face lovingly, then teased him with a brief kiss; he had already related to her all his struggles, but she seemed to still enjoy sharing memories.
Elizabeth began looking through the book when suddenly, the card fell out. He hurried to snatch it up, and she looked at him in wonder. She did not ask about it directly, though her eyes expressed her curiosity.
“It is nothing but a silly card,” he admitted with unease. “It caught my attention when I bought the book. My spirits were rather low at that time, and I felt…somehow, I felt comfort in this card. I know it is silly… Something to laugh at…”
She cupped his face with tender hands, forcing him to look at her. His cheeks were aflame, and the tips of his ears burned; he was certain she sensed his acute embarrassment.
“It cannot be silly if it comforted you. May I see it? I shall certainly not laugh at it, but I would not mind if you chose not to show me. I do not want to intrude on your secret.”
“I have no secrets from you, my dearest love,” he responded, then handed her the card.
He watched her brush her fingers over it—just as he used to do—then open it slowly, flap after flap, as if she were afraid of what she might read inside.
She looked troubled for a moment, and when her eyes met his again, he noticed a tear that she quickly blinked away.
“There is still an empty side. May I have a pen?” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.
He nodded and led her to the desk. She picked up the pen, and with unsteady fingers, she wrote on the blank side:
Never alone.
Then she put the pen down, breathed gently over the ink to dry it, and taking his hand, she stepped back towards the bed.
Not letting go of his hand, she reached back blindly to place the card and the book next to the jewellery box.
They all fell to the floor with a soft clatter, muffled by the carpet, but neither of them cared.
She moved closer to him and brought both her hands to his face again, her lips tasting his, while his arms embraced her tightly.
There was no more he or she, only they, together, at the beginning of their new life. Never alone again.
~~~ THE END ~~~