Chapter 42
After the bustle and din of the party, the peace and quiet inside the carriage enveloped them like a sweet caress. Through the windows, a sliver of moonlight broke through the darkness.
They were not alone in the carriage, of course, as Miss Bennet and Bingley were also with them.
They were sitting on opposite benches, facing each other, Elizabeth’s hands resting in her lap, Darcy’s on his knees.
The motion of the carriage caused their bodies to sway gently, but their eyes remained locked, their little smiles matching.
“The party was wonderful!” Miss Bennet whispered. “How can I ever thank Lady Matlock for the honour of including me? I never dreamt of attending such a gathering.”
“Lady Matlock’s parties are famous in town and her invitations coveted, but it was the first time I attended one,” Bingley added. “My sisters have always wanted to receive an invitation, but it never happened. I know I must thank you, Darcy, for this favour.”
“You keep thanking me, as does Crawford, and I keep saying I deserve no credit. My aunt is the only one who decides her guest list. I suspect she tried to make Elizabeth feel comfortable by inviting people familiar to her, which was a most generous gesture.”
“I am deeply grateful to Lady Matlock for supporting me publicly. Her behaviour towards me and my relatives has been exceedingly kind and considerate. I know the value of her gesture, especially since Lady Catherine has made sure her disapproval is universally acknowledged,” Elizabeth said.
“I believe I have told you that Lady Catherine’s opinion is always entertaining but holds no value,” Darcy replied.
It was snowing, and for a moment, he was tempted to stop the carriage and invite Elizabeth to walk. As if she guessed his thoughts, she cast a look out of the window.
“What a beautiful view! May we take a ride through the park?”
“Of course. Would you like to stop and take a stroll?”
“No…just a ride…I would rather get home soon.”
He immediately asked the coachman to slightly alter their direction, then returned his attention to Elizabeth.
“You must truly be tired to refuse a walk in the snow. I cannot blame you, since you danced every set,” he teased her. “All those people, everyone curious to talk to you, my aunt insisting on introducing you to everyone…”
“I am not tired at all…I just prefer to arrive home sooner,” she replied with a shade of pink in her cheeks.
“It might sound silly, but to me, it has been a beautiful, perfect day,” Miss Bennet whispered, and Bingley nodded.
“I agree,” Elizabeth said quietly, glancing out, then looking back at Darcy.
Their eyes met and locked again, while she continued, “It has been a perfect day, and it is a perfect evening. I truly feel it might be a perfect night too.” Her voice was quiet, her hands entwined in her lap.
She bit her lip, then glanced out of the window again before returning her eyes to him.
With two more people in the carriage and the relative darkness, he could not be certain of her meaning, but his heart began to pound violently. Had she just suggested — in the presence of her sister and his friend — what he hoped she had?
“Tomorrow I shall call after breakfast, if that is agreeable to you,” Bingley said when the carriage stopped in front of his house.
“Very much so, my friend,” Darcy said, his eyes still on his wife. “If you like, and have no previous engagements, come to dinner. Crawford will be there, too, and probably the colonel.”
“I shall be there — thank you! Good night, Mrs Darcy, Miss Bennet, Darcy,” Bingley said and stepped out with a bow.
The carriage continued, and silence fell inside it. The snow had increased, and the wind was blowing.
“It is cold,” Miss Bennet whispered, and she tightened her fur-lined cloak around herself.
“It is,” Darcy answered. “But still, I feel it is the perfect night,” he said, hoping his eyes would convey what he could not say clearly in words.
A few moments of intense silence later, the carriage stopped at their house.
The door was opened, and the freezing air blew inside.
Miss Bennet let out a cry and quickly descended with the help of a footman and hurried into the house.
Dismissing the servant, Darcy offered Elizabeth his hand.
She took it and stepped down, their eyes locked, their hands joined.
“The perfect night,” she repeated, her face lit by the moon, her hair adorned by the falling white diamond-like snowflakes, and her pink cheeks caressed by the wind.
The tip of her tongue darted out, and she licked the melted snow from her ruby lips, while her eyes were sparkling brighter than her exquisite jewels.
He needed no more assurance, no more proof, no more encouragement.
“Shall we go inside?” he whispered, and she nodded, putting her own gloved hand in his.
As they ascended the stairs, no more words were said — nor needed. She glanced at him several times, with a timid smile and crimson cheeks.
Darcy escorted her to her room and closed the door, unclasping their hands and removing her bonnet, her gloves, and her coat.
“I shall allow you to change and… I shall be in my room,” he mumbled, feeling suddenly timid, unable to express what he wished to say. When he felt so much and so deeply, how could he master his words?
“Very well…I shall ring for my maid now to help me with my…” she whispered, her words fading into silence.
He nodded, walked away, then, from the door, glanced back at her. She looked slightly uneasy, biting her lip nervously, flushed yet smiling at him. Then she turned and rang for her maid, and Darcy closed the adjoining door.
A while passed — too long for his patience, and Darcy eventually dismissed his valet.
The tumult of feelings that stirred his senses was different from anything he had ever felt.
The passion, the longing, the ardent love — he was only just learning how to control it, how to express it.
His main concern and his strongest desire at that moment — despite his yearning for her — was to make her happy.
Her happiness was paramount, more important than his.
Darcy paced to the window — the snow had formed an untouched carpet already and continued to fall — then to the fireplace, leaning against the mantel and looking into the glowing embers.
The sound of the door opening made his heart stop, then race wildly.
He turned; she was framed in the aperture, wearing nothing but her nightgown, which danced gracefully around her.
Her long dark hair fell freely over her shoulders, covering her chest in dense ringlets he was dying to wrap around his fingers.
He hurried to her and took her hands in his.
“Are you nervous? Please do not be… Nothing will happen unless you want it to.”
“I am nervous…with anticipation. I love you and I am happy. There is nothing I want more than to be here, with you.”
He lifted her in his arms and laid her on the bed, still holding her.
She leant back against the pillows, flushed, smiling.
His heart was pounding, and he realised he was just as nervous as she was.
He leant over her, slowly, gently, his eyes locked with hers until her eyelashes fluttered and closed.
Then he finally touched her lips, pressing his own against hers and persuading them to open so that he could taste them, capture them, one at a time and then both together, while his hands wandered over her body, still clad in in the silky nightgown.
***
To Elizabeth, the warmth she had experienced before in her husband’s embrace was just a faint taste of the heat she felt at that moment, abandoning herself to his passion and to her own desire, which was stronger than she had ever imagined.
With her eyes closed, she indulged herself in listening to his hoarse voice complimenting her and rejoicing in his tender caresses that made her quiver and burn at the same time.
Sweet delight dissipated her previous nervousness and restraint, her trust in her husband became stronger with every kiss and caress, and her body opened to him, just as her mind and her heart had done a long time ago.
***
The feeling of completion and fulfilment was so intense that Elizabeth did not dare move, even though she had awoken from the most wonderful slumber of her life several minutes ago.
Her husband’s arms were wrapped tightly around her, and her head was resting upon his chest, listening to his heart beating.
She had married an almost stranger a month ago, and the previous night she had become the wife of a husband she loved and admired.
Her dreams, her hopes, her entire life had changed utterly and completely between the day she had agreed to be bound to him by a contract and this day, when their bond was so deep and strong that it could not be ripped apart.
He moved, and she froze, holding her breath. She wished for him to wake but regretted disturbing his rest.
“Good morning, my love,” he said, his arms closing around her even tighter, and she did not mind at all.
“Good morning, my love.”
“You slept well, I hope?” he whispered, his lips brushing her earlobe.
“One does not need much sleep to be happy…”
“Indeed, I could not agree more… It must be late. Should we prepare for breakfast?”
She lifted her head, not quitting the warm nest of his arms to better look at him.
“I would much rather stay like this a little longer,” she boldly suggested. “If Jane and Georgiana are hungry, they will find food. Nobody will starve in Darcy House,” she said teasingly.
“True. Nobody will starve — at least for food,” he replied, then his lips captured hers, and no more words were needed.
***
Pemberley, six months later
Elizabeth took a last glance over the large table, exquisitely decorated and ready to receive their guests.