Chapter Eighteen #2
“Then you have no need of me!” she wailed.
Darcy chuckled. “I did not consider whether you could run my household when I became obsessed with kissing your luscious lips.” To prove his point, he raised her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.
When they separated, she said, “At your club, they will ask, Mr. Darcy, how is your new wife? And you will reply, She is a terrible mistress of my estate, but Mrs. Darcy has more compelling charms.”
Darcy smiled wickedly. “I did not say your charms were compelling.”
Elizabeth attempted to escape his hold, but her husband held tight. “You are a true blackguard!” she retorted hotly.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he teased, holding her tightly to him. Darcy cupped her face, turning it to him. “Elizabeth, I married you because I require you beyond what is reasonable.”
“For what do you require of me, Mr. Darcy?” Her lips assumed a slight pout.
“You are the one to whom I turn when I require reason or when I seek courage. I require your kiss. Your touch. Your empathy. I relish the excitement I view in your eyes when you practice fencing or when riding Ceres or waltzing. With you, I feel alive, and only you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, can bring me such contentment. I could hire someone to run the estate, but no one could take your place. Do you not understand that?”
She blushed. “Yes, William, I understand.You do not require a mistress for your estate, but you do require a fencing partner, a riding mate, and someone with whom to dance.”
“Do not forget I require someone to kiss.” He gently brushed his lips across hers.
Elizabeth provocatively walked her fingers up his chest before grasping his lapels. “Then if I am to be your playmate, Mr. Darcy, play on.” She caught his hair and pulled his head closer.
Darcy claimed her mouth possessively. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “you are everything.” His fingers traced the indentation of her neck, caressing it before scraping his nail across his favorite spot.
“It is the middle of the afternoon,” he whispered before sucking her ear lobe, “and I can think of nothing but touching you.”
“Ah, you enjoy my femininity” she whispered.
“Femininity?” Darcy rasped. He sucked gently upon the spot where her neck and collarbone met.
Elizabeth leaned her head back to welcome his continued possession. “That is what my uncle calls it when he kisses Aunt Madelyn as such.”
She recognized when he understood her words. “Your Aunt Madelyn?”
Elizabeth enjoyed taking him by surprise. “Aunt Madelyn wears a scarf to cover Uncle’s love making.”
“And how, Mrs. Darcy, would you know those details?” Darcy sounded both suspicious and amused.
“Aunt noted how you judiciously covered my mark with the emerald necklace. She shared her diversionary techniques with me at the opera.”
Her husband smiled good-humoredly. “I believe I will never be able to look your aunt in the face again.”
“I feel the same about my uncle. Aunt told me too much and not enough, both at the same time.”
Disappointment claiming him, Darcy released his hold on her and straightened his waistcoat. “I suppose we must think about this.”
Elizabeth looked down shyly. “I suppose.”
Before Darcy could respond, Mr. Nathan tapped on the door. “Enter.” “Mr. Darcy, a box arrived for Mrs. Darcy from London. Shall I place it in her room?”
“It is the books, William,” Elizabeth said from behind him, where she tucked a few loose strands into her chignon.
“The library will be more appropriate, Mr. Nathan.”
“Yes, Sir.” The man began to back out of the room.
“Mr. Nathan, would you place a small table, several straight-backed chairs, paper, and pens and ink in the library also. My wife and sister have studies they wish to pursue.”
“Assuredly, Mr. Darcy.” The man exited immediately.
“Well, my love, shall we see what insights the books bring us?”
Wickham lounged leisurely in the corner of Mrs. Philips’s drawing room.
He held a glass of port, but he did not drink.
It was all part of the illusion. The Bennet ladies had arrived five minutes prior.
He anticipated it taking at least a fortnight for him to maneuver Lydia Bennet from her family.
Discreet inquiries told him the Forsters planned to travel to London for a Christmas military ball, and Mrs. Forster wished Miss Lydia to be her special friend and join the party.
In reality, he could simply whisk Miss Lydia away, placing her under his spell, but he wished a dramatic statement that only the Darcys would understand.
“Mr. Wickham,” Lydia called out loudly when she spotted him, “it has been a lifetime since we last saw you.”
Mrs. Bennet allowed her youngest daughter too much freedom in her deportment, and this annoyed him.
He always preferred refined ladies to those displaying no “class.” He was top-lofty in his tastes, which were established two centuries prior with Lady Ellender.
The image of his first love flickered momentarily before his eyes.
He thought of her often of late, especially after viewing Georgiana Darcy.
It was as if he were coming full circle, returning to where it began.
Distinctions existed between those he destroyed immediately and those he kept close as part of his inner sanctum.
He gritted his teeth in displeasure, but responded, “Miss Lydia, it is a pleasure to hear you missed my company.”
“You are a tease!” She playfully struck his arm with her fan. “You remember my sisters, Mr. Wickham.”
Wickham offered Misses Mary and Kitty Bennet an abbreviated bow.
“How could I forget such beautiful ladies?”
Lydia pulled him after her. “You will sit with me, Mr. Wickham.”
Over the next hour, much to Wickham’s chagrin, Lydia talked incessantly of lottery tickets and of the fish she lost and the fish she won.
Although her immaturity irritated him, he took great care that his manners recommended him to everybody.
He did not leave Lydia’s side, not even during supper.
Throughout the excruciating evening, he took pleasure in visualizing her end.
It will be satisfying finally to silence her.
“Miss Lydia,” he said as he prepared to take his leave, “may I call on you the day after tomorrow?” If he meant to stay in the area, he would require some means to replenish his hunger for blood. He would take his desires to London, away from the local officials.
“I look forward to it, Mr. Wickham.”