Chapter 50 Wedded Bliss #2
Mrs. Hurst took up the subject readily, and the conversation continued until, at last, the ladies rose to depart.
Miss Bingley moved to Darcy’s side and slipped her arm within his, pressing herself against him with a familiarity that was far from modest. Elizabeth watched, standing very still.
Darcy was quick to disengage himself and crossed to Elizabeth, drawing her arm through his own. Together they stood as Higgins showed the ladies out.
When the door closed, Elizabeth remained silent, her eyes narrowed, fixed upon her husband.
He met her gaze calmly. “I shall instruct Higgins that we are not at home. He is to admit no callers.”
“Fitzwilliam, she makes a habit of pressing herself upon you as though she had a claim. Perhaps she means to convey that she would accept the role of your mistress.”
He drew back, displeased. “She was raised a gentlewoman.”
“Sir, I saw how she pressed herself against you, as though she meant to entice you.”
“I assure you, Elizabeth, she has no power to do so. I find her exceedingly disagreeable. Her character alone would deter any sensible man.”
Elizabeth’s expression eased, though her voice retained its edge. “Very well, sir. I shall not allow it to trouble me further. But hear me in this. She behaved in the same manner when we dined at Mr. Bingley’s house. If she attempts it again, I shall rebuke her.”
Darcy’s smile held a hint of mischief. “My dear Elizabeth, I should not object to such an assertion. I might then consider myself thoroughly claimed by the most beautiful and captivating woman of my acquaintance.”
He lowered his voice. “Come upstairs, my love, and show me, if you please, how much I signify to you.”
As they approached the staircase, Darcy lifted a hand to Higgins, who came forward at once. “Inform Cook that we shall dine in our private parlor. Our meal is to be sent up on trays, but not before half past eight. We shall dine late this evening.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And Higgins, we are not at home to callers.”
“Yes, sir.”
The following morning, Elizabeth opened her eyes to bright sunshine. She was immediately aware of her husband’s quiet breathing and the weight of his arm resting across her waist. She found it exceedingly agreeable to have him thus beside her in her bed.
Turning her head, she studied him. His hair was disordered from sleep, lending him a youthful appearance, while the shadow along his jaw rendered him more strikingly masculine.
Once again, he brought to mind the Greek gods upon whom she now seemed so fixed, and she marveled at her extraordinary good fortune in being married to such a man.
She was still observing him when he drew her closer. “Elizabeth, my darling, you are more beautiful than I had ever imagined.”
His eyes were open, their gaze lingering upon her in a manner that made her acutely aware of her state of undress. She felt a sudden desire to reach for the sheet to hide herself.
He grinned. “You are wishing for the sheet. I believe it lies somewhere upon the floor, along with your nightdress.”
He brushed her lips with his, and soon after, she was lost to everything but him.
Their two weeks alone together passed with alarming speed. Elizabeth lay in bed beside her husband, nestled against him, and without intending it, she sighed.
He lifted his head. “Are you unwell, my dear?”
She turned to him. “Do you realize we must return to Hertfordshire in two days?”
He leaned nearer and brushed his lips along her neck. “Must we?”
She ran her hand through his hair. “We promised to return in a fortnight to collect our sisters.”
“Yes, that is true.” He paused. “Write to Mrs. Bingley. Tell her I have business yet to conclude in London and request that she keep them another fortnight.”
She laughed and then ran her fingers across his lips. “You have a most handsome mouth, sir, especially that lower lip.”
He drew her closer and uttered a low sound, deep in his throat, and once again, they were lost to one another.
Elizabeth woke late one morning to find his place beside her empty. She looked about the room and found him already dressed, seated with his newspaper. The scent of coffee filled the room.
He glanced up and smiled. “My lovely sprite has awakened. Come, darling. Your breakfast is still warm.”
She took up her wrap and joined him. He prepared a plate for her and said, “Darling, our additional fortnight has passed all too quickly, and our little paradise is at an end. We must return to Hertfordshire in two days, and then on to Pemberley.”
He lifted her onto his lap and took her hand. “We must return to the duties and concerns of daily life.”
“Yes, I know we must.” She rested her head against him. “I am saddened, Fitzwilliam. We shall not know such uninterrupted happiness again.”
He laughed into her hair. “We shall, Elizabeth. At Pemberley, we have a suite of private rooms, and I shall take care that we are not long deprived of one another.”
She traced her finger along his lips. “Were there ever two people more fortunate than we are? We are young and in health, and you are possessed of every advantage. You put me in mind of the Greek gods, Fitzwilliam.” She sighed, a soft contented sound, and nestled closer against him.