Chapter Ten #3
“Of course I meant it. I know you do not feel the same, but I do love you.”
She remained silent but wrapped her arms around him and snuggled against his body. He suspected it was all she could do without bursting into tears due to her delicacy of situation and loved her even more for it.
* * *
“Tell me about grooming,” Elizabeth said as she and Jane walked through the gallery. Snow was falling again, and Elizabeth had found the hall too drafty to be comfortable.
“I have spoken of it before,” Jane replied as she rubbed her cold hands together.
“He rises before me, Jane. I have yet to assist him, and I do not know if it is me or if it is him, but I feel that some of the ladies are beginning to question my loyalty. I think they know I have not done my duty.”
“It is not so much a duty, my lady, as a point of pride. I perform for Finn on special occasions and at least once a month. Some ladies groom their men on special occasions and yet others celebrate birthrights or nuptial anniversaries with ceremonial grooming.”
“It seems so odd that a task performed by a servant is a source of pride. I admit it seems unequal.”
“Think of all our men do for us and it seems more than fair.”
“I suppose ye are right. I still have the problem, though, of never having done it at all.”
“It is simple really. Dismiss the valet and order the bath. I assume you shall have very little difficulty dressing him.”
Elizabeth’s skin heated and she looked at the tip of her slipper, which peeked from beneath her hem.
“Exactly. See, you already have the basics down. Leave the rest to your imagination.”
She was silent for a moment as she let her imagination wander to the possibilities bathing him would present. Licking her lips, she remembered Jane's presence and shook her head. “My apologies,” she muttered.
“You forget that I was a newlywed once. I vaguely recall wanting to spend every waking moment in Finn's embrace.”
“So, my appetites are usual?”
“Have you seen your husband, my lady? I might be married, but he is a beautiful man, and I would be surprised if you lacked an appetite. Many a lady will begrudge you your good fortune for having such an incredible and devoted man.”
“And that is why they talk so bitterly about his lack of grooming.”
“Precisely.”
Elizabeth held her head high. “Well, then, I shall simply have to prove them wrong.”
* * *
A fortnight had passed since Elizabeth's talk with Jane, and this morning she was more determined than ever.
Now that Jane had coached her thoroughly on the finer points of caring for one's husband, she was eager to show him what she had learned, but he, however, was not at all cooperative.
She had fretted all night that he would rise yet again and leave for his dressing room, so she was still awake when he began to stir.
She had wondered how he removed himself from the bed without her knowledge when she fell asleep in his arms every evening.
Her theory of slipping out of his grasp during her slumber rapidly fell to pieces since he seemed to move with her, keeping her close throughout the night, their skin touching in a thousand places all at once.
Had she known how incredible it was to touch him in such a constant manner, she would have spent every night sleepless just to partake.
To her amusement, Elizabeth discovered that her husband talked in his sleep.
His voice had rumbled through the trunk of his body and tickled her ear as he spoke of strawberry wine and the dogs running off with meat from the dinner table and horses playing cards.
His chatter went from sensible to absurd, but then her enjoyment diminished when his breathing grew frightfully rapid, and his arms tightened.
“Forgive me, my love, my Elizabeth. Do not leave me.”
Her heart had turned cold at the desperation of his words.
Even when he was awake, he rarely spoke of love, having consciously avoided the subject since the night he had cleaned her.
He treated the topic as though it was a deep, dark well into which he might fall.
Until this moment, she too had been glad to avoid the lack of that particular feeling on her part, but his words were so very honest, so very frightened.
His hands splayed over her belly, and he gave a heavy, sorrowful sigh.
“When you go, I shall have nothing.”
The hopelessness of his words had choked her. She had turned in his arms and pressed a kiss to his throat; her hands stroked his cheeks in hopes of waking him from the bitter dream, but his sleep-self had merely feathered his fingers over the flesh of her back.
“Will you stay? Will you stay and love me as I love you?”
Compelled by his pain and desperation, she had actually answered him with a “yes,” but still he had not woken, and she was faced with the knowledge of his fears, even while she acknowledged what her unheard words had meant to both of them.
She had said yes, but to what? Staying or loving him?
She could scarcely be sure. Not when his very real pain proved such a torment to her.
Now, though, he was slowly pulling his arm from beneath her pillow and untwining his legs from hers. Carefully, he sat, rolling his shoulders, the defined muscles in his back rippling beneath his smooth, dark skin. He was free and had made to stand when she spoke.
“Let thy valet be today, my lord.”
* * *
He did not face her. His nightmare of her departure was still too fresh in his mind.
The worst part had been the cruel trick his mind had played on him when she had kissed him and said she would stay, said she would love him.
His heart had wanted to burst with joy. But even then, he was disappointed because the memory would never be anything more than a dream.
“I did not mean to wake you. Go back to sleep. It is early yet.”
“Ye did not disturb me. Indeed, I have been awake most of the night.”
“Then all the more reason for you to rest.” He started to move towards his dressing room.
“My lord William, let thy valet be.”
He froze; his naked body unmoving even to breathe. Finally, he looked at her. She was lying on the bed, blankets tossed aside and nude. Her blue eyes were, for the first time he could remember, warm with a sensation near affection. Overwhelmed, he landed on the edge of the bed heavily.
“Say it again,” he pleaded, staring at his hands and the gold ring that winked from his finger, the gold ring that matched hers and tied his heart to her.
Most husbands chose not to wear a ring, but he had.
At first, it had been assurance of his fidelity, but now it was a symbol of his oath to love her.
He gathered her up into his arms and held her with reverence.
“William, my husband.”
He squeezed her gently, brushing his stubble along her neck and down her shoulder. He delighted in the shiver that ran through her body.
“Many thanks to you. I know you mean it not, but I thank you none the less.”
“Goose,” she muttered, irritated, her lips against his ear.
He gave her a look of amused surprise. “Where did you pick that up?”
“Perhaps from Jane,” she replied sheepishly. “And I would not say so if I did not mean it.”
“You do not love me.”
“I am beginning to understand ye. Ye are a kind, fair ruler. I told you before that a heart exists somewhere beneath the muck and I intend to root it out to determine what sort of man ye might be.”
“If I am better at all, my sweet, it is because of you.”
She kissed his cheek. “Then shall ye leave thy valet alone this morning and let me mind my husband?”
“I shall do anything my wife wishes.”
She slid off the bed and stood before him boldly in stark contrast with the shy creature she had been on their wedding night. Reaching around him, she untied the leather strap that secured the dark silk of his hair. Long locks fell over his shoulders when she pulled her fingers through its strands.
“Jane explained to me why a woman should take pride in her man's appearance. I must admit that serving a man in such a manner seemed distasteful at first—as if I was a slave instead of a partner—but after hearing what she said, I reconsidered the idea.” Elizabeth ran a finger over his chest, smiling a little when he bit his lip to maintain his concentration on her words.
“It shows the world that ye have a wife who is devoted, but this special task is also the wife's way to leave her mark upon her husband. A man who is groomed is a man who is cared for, and I care for ye a great deal and see ye as a friend. And the thought of another woman in thy dressing room fails to sit well with me.”
“It is a good thing my valet is a man then, I suppose. You realize that wives do not groom their men every day.”
“Jane is an excellent teacher, my lord, but as I am sure ye have already noticed, I am of my own mind.”
“Indeed, I have noticed that particularly irritating trait.” He grinned at her as he grabbed her about the waist. Suddenly, the grin slipped away. “I am your friend?”
She took a moment to consider the idea. “I think ye are. Since we married there has been a difference in ye. I like this version of William.”
“I was unaware that you even knew my given name.”
“There are many things, sir, of which you are unaware.”
He smiled.
“What?”
“You said 'you.' My dialect is overtaking your own.”
She leaned forward to kiss him fiercely.
With a quick nibble on his bottom lip, Elizabeth tangled her fingers through his and pulled him from the bed.
They moved towards the door on the right that led to his dressing room, where Elizabeth rang the bell.
She instructed Darcy to put on a robe and left for a moment to retrieve one of her own.
By the time she returned, the valet, accustomed to readying Darcy himself, was in the chamber.
“Fowles,” Elizabeth said, her voice sweet, “I shall take care of my husband this morning. If you could have some water fetched for the bath, I would appreciate it.”
“Certainly, my lady.”