Chapter 20
WHERE ELIZABETH SPEAKS OF A SUBJECT MOST INAPPROPRIATE.
The following morning, Elizabeth opened her eyes to sunlight dappling the walls of the cosy bedchamber she usually shared with Jane whenever they stayed with their aunt and uncle Gardiner.
She stretched like a cat beneath the counterpane and sighed contentedly, admiring the elegant pattern of silver and sage leaves upon the walls.
Darcy had offered to see her to Park Street the night before, but her uncle insisted Elizabeth remain in Gracechurch Street instead.
The weather had grown colder and more unpleasant as the evening wore on, and her aunt was concerned about the state of the roads.
It would have been improper for Darcy to have escorted her all the way to Park Street in any case, as neither Bingley nor Jane had thought to send a maid to act as her chaperon, and Mrs Gardiner’s could not be spared.
Though an invitation to stay the night was extended to Darcy as well, he declined, assuring Mrs Gardiner his coachman was an excellent driver.
The snowflakes sifting down upon the frozen streets would pose no problem for him, the horses, or the equipage.
Darcy had some business in the morning but would call upon them in the afternoon.
A knock upon the door of her room convinced Elizabeth she had stayed abed long enough. “Come in,” she said. She had expected her aunt but was pleasantly surprised by Emily instead.
“Cousin Lizzy!” she cried, skipping across the room with a wide smile. “Mamma said you spent the night with us. Will you spend the day as well?”
Elizabeth threw off the counterpane and laughed. “I believe I will, but I must go to Jane and Mr Bingley at some point, else they think I have changed my mind and run away.”
“Can you not change your mind?” Emily enquired, sitting beside her on the bed.
“Surely, you can stay with us for as long as you like. We shall take excellent care of you, and Mr Bingley and Cousin Jane will be happy for they are married and will want to be alone. If you stay with them, you will only be in their way.”
Elizabeth regarded her young cousin with raised brows. “Wherever did you hear such a thing?”
“From Aunt Bennet.”
Of course, Emily would happen to overhear her mother’s uncensored commentary.
Elizabeth pursed her lips disapprovingly.
“Well, Aunt Bennet is quite mistaken. Jane invited me to stay with her in Park Street, and Mr Bingley is very pleased about it. We will be a merry party. Rest assured, I will not be in anybody’s way. ”
Emily regarded her sceptically. “Aunt Bennet was insistent. I would not wish for you to displease her, Cousin Lizzy. She is most frightful when she is vexed!”
Frightful indeed, Elizabeth thought wryly.
She decided a change of topic was in order and patted Emily’s knee reassuringly.
“My mother can be quite insistent when it comes to having her way, but as she is in Hertfordshire and we are in London there is no need to give it another thought. Now,” she told her, “I will be exceedingly grateful to you if you will help me decide which gown to wear this morning. I can never seem to make up my mind.”
Half an hour later, after Emily was consigned to her governess, Elizabeth found Mrs Gardiner at the breakfast table enjoying a cup of tea. “Good morning, Aunt,” she said warmly, claiming a seat beside her.
“Good morning, my dear. I trust you slept well?”
“Very well, despite Jane’s absence.”
“I can imagine,” her aunt replied with a sympathetic smile, “it must be difficult for you to be without her, and for her to be without you. I remember when my eldest sister married her husband. I missed her terribly, but it was not long after that I met your uncle, and we were married. I still missed her, of course, but I loved Edward with all my heart. We are most fortunate. Ours has been a blessed union, and our love for each other has only grown stronger with time.”
Even from a young age, Elizabeth recognised the Gardiners’ marriage was very different from her parents’.
Her aunt and uncle possessed a true affection for one another.
They enjoyed each other’s company, sought the other’s counsel, and valued their spouse’s opinions.
Theirs was precisely the sort of union Elizabeth hoped to achieve with Darcy: a true partnership where familiarity and time would not lessen their affection and respect for one another but nurture and cultivate both, allowing their love to mature and their marriage to thrive.
Elizabeth recalled the half an hour she had passed with Darcy in her uncle’s study the previous night.
Yes, they had argued, but they had listened to each other as well.
Both had confessed secrets, professed feelings, and shared moments steeped in intimacy that made Elizabeth blush.
She remembered well the way Darcy’s arms encircled her waist, the way his breath heated her skin, the way his lips tasted, and the way his words, honest though they were, warmed her in places his hands had never touched.
Even now, Elizabeth could feel the ghost of his caress upon her skin, his lips upon her neck.
She wondered if he could feel hers as well.
“Lizzy?” Mrs Gardiner prompted with a laugh. “Where did you go, my dear?”
Elizabeth was startled to see she was still seated at the breakfast table with her aunt and felt a flush of embarrassment. “Forgive me. You were speaking of your marriage to my uncle, of the affection you share, and I could not help but think of Mr Darcy and what our own marriage might entail.”
“You love him, and Mr Darcy loves you. I daresay so long as you are honest with one another and treat each other with consideration and respect you shall be very happy.”
“I cannot imagine treating him any other way, nor can I imagine Mr Darcy mistreating me in any manner.” She bowed her head as her fingers toyed with the embroidered edge of her aunt’s tablecloth.
“We quarrelled last night about Lydia and Mr Wickham. He did not want to tell me what he had done for her. I was angry and hurt and felt he did not trust me to keep whatever secret he was determined to conceal from the world.”
“I see. And did you resolve your differences? It certainly appeared that way when you joined us in the parlour before Mr Darcy took his leave.”
“We did. I apologised for making demands of him, we spoke at length, and he confessed all. He is unlike any gentleman I have ever known. His expectations and desires are not at all what I anticipated from a man such as he.”
Mrs Gardiner raised her brows. “Expectations and desires, Lizzy?”
Elizabeth felt a flush of heat, uncertain what she ought to reveal.
Not only had she allowed Darcy’s ardent advances, but she enjoyed them.
Her mother, who had advised Jane to do nothing to either encourage or prolong Bingley’s presence in her bed, would have been scandalised, but Madeleine Gardiner shared little in common with Elizabeth’s mother.
She was intuitive, patient, steady, and possessed an innate and intimate knowledge of the world Mrs Bennet did not.
The two women could not be more different; but perhaps their views were not so varied regarding amorous behaviour between an unmarried lady and her betrothed.
While Elizabeth could imagine her aunt’s reaction would by no means be as severe as her mother’s, she doubted Mrs Gardiner would appreciate such wantonness taking place in her home.
“Lizzy,” her aunt chided. “I believe there is much you are not telling me. Unless it is something truly alarming, you can be assured of my secrecy.”
Elizabeth knew as much already, but admitting she desired her future husband was easier said than done.
After some hesitation, she said, “Mr Darcy and I shared much last night, but I fear not all we discussed or did is considered proper. I am sorry. I hope I do not shock you. My mother would probably take to her bed.”
“Did Mr Darcy do something that offended you?” Mrs Gardiner asked, her brows creased with concern. “Did he make you uncomfortable or coerce you to do something you did not like?”
Elizabeth shook her head, blushing profusely. “No,” she confessed. “Quite the opposite.”
“Ah,” Mrs Gardiner replied knowingly. “I take it you have been kissed, but is that all?”
“That is not all,” Elizabeth admitted. “Mr Darcy held me. We spoke of our feelings for one another in great depth. At one point, it was I who brazenly kissed him. My mother would be appalled.”
“I see. It sounds to me as though you are conflicted. Exactly what is it that is bothering you? Is it what you and he have done, that you enjoyed it, or is it more your mother’s professed disapprobation of such affection between a man and his wife?”
“It is not so much what Mr Darcy and I have shared as it is my mother’s notion of how a lady should behave in such circumstances, whether she is married or not.
Mr Darcy enjoyed when I responded favourably to his affectionate gestures.
He was moved when I kissed him. I do not believe I will ever be capable of passivity in the marriage bed, not when I feel so much. ”
To Elizabeth’s surprise, Mrs Gardiner gave her a sympathetic smile.
“Your poor mother does not share your passionate nature, and though I do not doubt she cares for your father, theirs is hardly an equal marriage. It pains me to say it, but they neither esteem nor respect each other as a husband and his wife ought to do. Your father does not desire your mother’s opinions or her society, certainly not the way Mr Darcy desires yours.
“Despite what your mother has led you to believe, there is no shame in desiring the man you marry, nor in expressing that desire, especially where there is a real and abiding affection. Mr Darcy appears to love you deeply. He is a quiet man, a serious man, but the way he looks at you is indicative of his strong attachment. He is a man of the world. That he feels passionately for you is not surprising, nor is your own response to his ardency. It is natural to want to return his kisses and caresses, and it is perfectly acceptable to do so once you are safely married. Until then, you both must take care. Mr Darcy spent much time and money to preserve your respectability. It would not do for either of you to forget yourselves. Your reputation is at stake, as is Mr Darcy’s honour.
I would hate for the sacrifices he made for you—for all of us—to have been made in vain. ”
When her aunt excused herself to meet with her cook, Elizabeth adjourned to the drawing room where she took up her embroidery and contemplated all her aunt had told her.
According to Mrs Gardiner, it was perfectly natural, not only for Darcy to desire her, but for Elizabeth to desire him as much.
It had been a relief when her aunt had neither chastised her nor accused her of wantonness; but that sense of relief was short-lived when her aunt alluded to all Mr Darcy had done to preserve her reputation when Lydia not only allowed but encouraged the attentions of a scoundrel.
Though she did not doubt Lydia had flirted with and encouraged Mr Wickham to an outrageous degree, Elizabeth had only to feel Darcy’s nearness—his hand on hers, his lips upon her skin, the heat of his body as he held her—before she was lost to sensation.
Like her most foolish sister, there was no thought, no question of whether surrendering to Darcy’s tender ministrations was right or wrong; there was only the undeniable draw Elizabeth experienced when she was close to him—the delicious, pleasurable ache from his touch.
She reminded herself that she and Darcy were deeply in love, where her sister had only believed herself to be—and Mr Wickham had admitted he was most assuredly not.
Her sister had been in public—in Brighton with friends—while she and Darcy had been in the privacy of her uncle’s house, safely ensconced behind a closed door.
There was little chance of the children or any of the servants seeing them.
But how would she have felt had her aunt or uncle witnessed their amorous exchange?
When Mr Ellis discovered them at Netherfield Elizabeth had been mortified, but having the Gardiners come upon such a scene would have been infinitely worse.
There was no doubt in her mind she would have been severely chastised by her uncle for her lack of restraint; Darcy would have suffered harsher treatment and would have been forced to bear the weight of disappointing a man he held in the highest regard.
Elizabeth turned her head aside and looked out the window, where the sun cast its weak winter rays upon the snow-covered street.
She could not imagine making Darcy suffer such an indignity, not when he had gone to so much trouble for her by bringing about her sister’s marriage to a man he could barely tolerate, never mind respect.
And he had done it—not for Lydia—but for her.
He loved her, and though Elizabeth returned his love in equal measure, she knew being alone with him and allowing his romantic overtures—however much she craved his society and his touch—posed a certain danger, not only to her reputation, but to his.
After all she had put him through, the last thing she wanted was to deny Darcy something that pleased him; but the consequences of ceding to their desire before they were wed were, to Elizabeth, not worth the risk of discovery. She resolved to be stronger.