Chapter Twenty #2
Darcy’s assumed calmness possessed an intensity he had never known before.
Finishing his ablutions quickly, he entered Elizabeth’s bedchamber.
He lit several candles and took a seat facing the door to her dressing room.
Yet, the door opened before he could settle his nerves completely, and Elizabeth was framed in the backlight of her dressing room.
He remembered her being framed in the doorway at Netherfield with both boots and petticoat covered in mud.
He had actually thought her lovely then.
Now she was beautiful. With the light behind her, Darcy could view her light body through the gown.
Entranced, their eyes locked until she stepped slowly into the room, and the door closed behind her.
Darcy could no longer tolerate not being near her.
He rose to cross the room in four long strides.
His arousal thickened. He cupped her chin and lifted it to kiss her lips, the kiss warm and tender.
Her arms encircled his waist, and then she slid her hands under Darcy’s shirt and up the muscles of his back.
He trembled as he kissed her again while slowly pulling her closer to him and allowing his hands to rest on the rise of her hips.
Their breaths became shallow as the kisses became more intense.
Darcy scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed, positioning her gently against the pillows.
She shifted nervously as his gaze grew in its eagerness.
Darcy lowered himself beside her and kissed her repeatedly, his hands searching her body beneath her gown as his lips moved down her neck.
His mouth was powerful over hers. His lips were relentless in forcing a response from her.
Everything he dreamed of was his. Yet, it would never be enough, for he would never tire of her.
At length, he claimed her. They came together in joy.
Languishing in each other’s arms, Elizabeth snuggled into the curve of his shoulder and rested her arm across his chest. Darcy stroked her forearm with his hand and kissed the top of her head. “Elizabeth,” he began, but she reached up and placed her fingertips on his lips to stop his words.
“May I not be Lizzy again?” she teased.
Darcy laughed and pulled her closer to him. “Your name is Elizabeth Darcy, is it not?” He kissed her forehead as he hugged her tightly to him.
“I am Elizabeth Darcy, but your calling me Lizzy was very tantalizing.” She kissed him enticingly and stretched her leg across his body. “May I not convince you to call me Lizzy again?” Her hand slid across his chest and down his abdomen to his thigh.
“Lizzy,” he moaned in response to her touch. Then he kissed her with more passion than before. Afterwards, they slept, satisfied in each other’s arms.
When his wife awoke after several hours of sleep, her eyes met his steady gaze.
Darcy was propped on one arm and looking down upon her.
Realizing her gown had long since been discarded, she blushed and reached for the bed linens, but he caught her hand and held it in place.
“In this bed, you have nothing of which to be ashamed.”
“I am surprised to find you in my bed, sir,” she teased to cover the obvious unease. “I thought Society’s refined husbands returned to their quarters after …” She buried her face into his shoulder.
“Some husbands feel the need for privacy.” His voice was soft and gentle, as he traced circles across her abdomen.
“But I possess no desire to leave your side. Where you sleep, I sleep. This is our bed.” Her arms circled his neck, and she began to kiss along his chin line.
“Shall I call you Lizzy again?” he teased.
“I hope never to be Elizabeth ever again.” She nibbled on his ear lobe as he rolled her to her back.
“I love you, Lizzy,” were the last words he spoke before she covered his mouth with hers.
Daylight streamed through the windows when she woke him by rubbing her palm over the stubble of his beard. “Mr. Darcy, you are more handsome when you are not so properly dressed.” Her laughter started as a gurgle in the back of her throat. “Do you have any idea of the time?”
“Do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere?” He pulled her close to kiss her tenderly.
“I was just considering my need for nourishment. If I am to spend the rest of my life in bed with you, sir, I will require the occasional meal to maintain my strength.”
“So, you never wish to leave our bed?” A look of contentment overspread his face.
“William, I would be wherever you are, but this bed has a special appeal.”
He moved casually from the bed to retrieve her gown. “I will have someone bring us something to eat and have the room freshened. Perhaps you wish to claim a robe to add to your wardrobe.” He handed her the gown. “I will be rid of this stubble.” He rubbed his chin across the back of her hand.
Unable to contain her smile, Elizabeth slipped on her gown and disappeared into her dressing room before he had donned his breeches and pulled the bell cord.
When he returned to her quarters, three quarters of an hour later, Elizabeth sat at her dressing table.
He watched her from their adjoining dressing rooms. Her maid was saying, “Mr. Darcy had them brought from Pemberley for you, Mrs. Darcy. He ordered them cut as buds, wrapped in newsprint, and kept damp until they arrived so they would not go bad. They were supposed to have arrived yesterday, but the driver found trouble on the road. Mr. Darcy wanted them for your bedroom last evening, ma’am. I pray the Master is not upset.”
“I am persuaded to believe that Mr. Darcy will know no offense,” Elizabeth assured the maid.
Margaret retrieved the hairbrush to tend to Elizabeth’s hair but Darcy entered. “I will do it, Margaret.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and left.
Elizabeth held one of the roses in her hand and took in its fragrance. She said nothing to him as he brushed her hair. He watched her reflection as he caressed her skin, kissing the nape. At length, she turned to face him, tears forming in her eyes. “Elizabeth, is there something amiss?”
“It grieves me I did not see the man you are,” she whispered.
“I am a different man because of your love, Elizabeth.”
“These flowers are from your mother’s plant, are they not?”
“The yellow represents the constancy of my love. Each day the yellow sun rises in the sky is a day I will love you, Elizabeth Darcy.”
He wiped the tears from her cheeks. “Are all women so emotional?” he teased. “You cry when you are happy and when you are sad.”
She gave him a hint of a smile before her arms encircled his neck. “It is part of my arts and allurements,” she whispered in his ear.
“Let us enjoy our meal in our room so we can return to our bed,” he said softly into her hair, for she still clung to him tightly. He carried her to the bedroom.
Darcy set her in one of the chairs. She still clutched the rose.
She was so solemn it perplexed him as to what to do next.
He pierced the fresh fruit on a fork and offered it to her.
Elizabeth took it in her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully.
Once she swallowed, she turned to Darcy and said, “William, I never wish you to know regrets for marrying me. You have presented me so much already. I have nothing to give you in return.”
“Elizabeth, present me your respect, assist me with Pemberley, and love me as you did last evening. No man could want for more.” Elizabeth nodded her head, but she did not answer.
Instead, she picked up the fork, took a piece of fruit on it, and placed it in Darcy’s mouth.
“We will do this together,” she said with determination.
Later, when they had returned to the bed, Darcy rested with the pillows propped behind him and Elizabeth’s head on his chest. “Poor Jane,” Elizabeth sighed.
“You are in our bed and considering your sister’s fate. I have lost my appeal to you, I see.”
“On the contrary, sir. I was just considering how Jane and Mr. Bingley are learning to be husband and wife in a house full of guests and with my family a mere three miles removed. Jane deserves this kind of happiness. My sister and Mr. Bingley should be somewhere alone.” Elizabeth rose on her knees where she might reach his mouth.
“Now, I require a different kind of sustenance; one of your kisses would greatly restore my energies.” Darcy took her in his arms, allowing the scent of lavender and his wife’s heat to overtake him.
For six days they sought no other company. Although they no longer took their meals in the bedroom, they spent the majority of their time there. Other times, they read together in the library. “What are you doing, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked as she placed a book onto the shelf in the library.
“I wished to save the roses you presented to me.” She appeared a bit embarrassed.
“I put two of them in this book of poetry so they would be at Darcy House each time we returned. The others I dried to make a sachet.” She crossed the room to where he sat and leaned down to kiss his lips.
“Constancy in love must be preserved,” she teased as he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again.
On other days, Elizabeth played the pianoforte, and Darcy turned the music for her.
She even rewarded him by singing for him one evening.
He thought to teach her billiards, but whenever he circled her body with his arms to show her how to hold the stick correctly, she always turned to kiss him, and the game was lost to their passion.
They were never more than a few feet apart.
Darcy often came to her dressing room just to be with her while she bathed or brushed her hair.
For a love that had taken so long to take root, they had wasted no time in building a bond no one could destroy.