Chapter 7 #3
“Fitzwilliam, come listen to this piece Elizabeth has been teaching me. It is a country dance, not like my usual studies at all.”
“Perhaps later. If you would excuse us, Georgiana, I need to speak with Mrs. Darcy privately.”
His sister glanced between them, perceptive enough to sense the tension despite her youth. “Of course. I should practice my scales. Mrs. Annesley will want me to show improvement.”
When she had gone, Elizabeth remained seated at the pianoforte, her fingers absently tracing the keys without pressing them. “Mr. Darcy.”
“Elizabeth.” He moved closer, though still maintaining a respectful distance. “I have spoken with Mr. Bingley.”
Her head lifted at that, surprise evident. “Have you?”
“Yes. I have informed him that I may have misjudged your sister’s feelings, and that I no longer object to his pursuing the acquaintance.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “How did Mr. Bingley receive this information?”
“With his usual good nature. He intends to return to Netherfield within the week, with the express purpose of renewing his attentions to Jane.”
“I see.” Elizabeth studied him, her expression still cautious but less cold than before. “May I ask what prompted this reconsideration?”
Darcy hesitated, the admission difficult for a man unaccustomed to acknowledging error. “Our conversation last night. Your accusations regarding my interference were not without merit.”
“Not without merit.” She repeated the phrase, a hint of her usual spirit returning. “That is not an admission of wrongdoing, Mr. Darcy.”
“I was wrong,” he said, forcing himself to meet her gaze directly. “I misjudged your sister’s character based on limited observation and allowed other considerations to influence my counsel to Bingley. It was presumptuous and unjust.”
The direct acknowledgment surprised her. Elizabeth rose from the piano bench and crossed to the window, standing in profile, the afternoon light illuminating the delicate lines of her face.
“Thank you for your honesty. Jane deserves happiness, and Mr. Bingley, despite his susceptibility to influence, seems genuinely attached to her.”
“He is. More than I initially credited. His continued regard despite months of absence and discouragement testifies to the depth of his feelings.”
Elizabeth turned to face him. “And you will not attempt to dissuade him again? Even if my mother’s behavior at their engagement dinner proves embarrassingly effusive, as it undoubtedly will?”
The question held a challenge, but also a hint of humor. “I will not. Bingley’s happiness is his own to seek, even if the path includes certain social challenges.”
“Social challenges.” A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. “A diplomatic description of my mother at her most excitable.”
“I am learning diplomacy, among many other lessons.”
“Such as?”
“The danger of arrogance clouding judgment. The importance of considering perspectives beyond my own. The value of an honest apology when warranted.” Each admission brought him closer to where she stood, until only a few feet separated them.
Elizabeth regarded him thoughtfully. “These are valuable lessons, Mr. Darcy.”
“There is one more. Perhaps the most important.”
“And what might that be?”
“That I have failed to make clear to you that our marriage has become something I value beyond mere obligation.” The words fell between them like stones into still water, creating ripples of meaning that expanded outward.
Elizabeth’s breath caught audibly. “Has it?”
“Yes.” Darcy took another step, close enough now that he could have touched her if he dared. “Your honesty refreshes me. Your courage in facing a new life, thrust upon you without preparation, commands my deepest respect.”
She did not look away. “These past weeks have been an adjustment for us both.”
“They have. Despite the circumstances, I find myself grateful for the outcome.”
“Grateful?” Elizabeth repeated, as though testing the word’s sincerity.
“Perhaps that is insufficient. Pleased would be more accurate. Even happy.”
Elizabeth studied his face. “I had believed you were resigned to your fate. Fulfilling your duty as a gentleman after our compromise.”
“That was my initial motivation. But Elizabeth, surely you must be aware that my regard for you has grown beyond duty.”
“How should I be aware when you reveal so little of your thoughts?”
“I am not practiced in expressing such matters. Words do not come easily to me as they do to you. But I had hoped my actions might speak where my words failed.”
“Your actions?” Elizabeth asked.
“In our private moments.” Darcy lowered his voice. “I have attempted to demonstrate my admiration and desire in the most direct way available to me.”
She flushed, but her gaze remained steady. “Physical desire is not the same as genuine regard, Fitzwilliam.”
It was the first time she had used his given name since their argument. “No. But in my case, they are not separate either.”
Elizabeth paused to consider this. “I have been unfair in some of my judgments as well. I accused you of orchestrating our compromise, a charge without foundation except in my own fear and suspicion.”
“You were thrust into marriage with a man you scarcely knew and had little reason to trust. Your caution was understandable.”
“Perhaps. But my readiness to think the worst of your motives was not.”
The admission touched Darcy. “Thank you.”
Elizabeth’s expression warmed, the tension that had characterized her bearing since their argument finally easing. “Where do we proceed from here, Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy took the final step that closed the distance between them, reaching for her hand. She allowed him to take it.
“I would suggest we begin again. Not as strangers thrust together by circumstance, but as husband and wife choosing to build something worthy of the vows we spoke.”
“I would like that.” Elizabeth returned the pressure of his hand. “Though I warn you, I am unlikely to become less forthright in my opinions.”
A rare smile touched his features as he raised her hand to his lips. “I would not wish it otherwise.”
The brush of his mouth against her skin sent a familiar warmth through both of them, a reminder of the physical connection that had sustained them. Elizabeth’s eyes darkened in response, and Darcy felt an answering heat rise within him.
“I have missed you these past two nights.”
“Have you?” The question held both genuine curiosity and a hint of feminine satisfaction at this evidence of his desire.
Darcy’s thumb traced slow circles on her palm, a deliberate caress that made her breath catch. “More than I anticipated.”
Elizabeth’s lips curved. “Then perhaps we should make up for lost time. After dinner, of course. Georgiana would be confused by our sudden disappearance.”
“After dinner.” Darcy released her hand with reluctance as the distant sound of the dressing gong reminded them both of the evening routine.
The evening that followed was the most pleasant they had spent as a family.
Georgiana, clearly relieved at the improved atmosphere, played for them after dinner with unusual confidence.
Elizabeth listened with appreciation, drawing Darcy’s sister into conversation about music that revealed her limited technical knowledge but sincere enthusiasm.
When Georgiana finally retired, pleading fatigue from her musical exertions, Darcy was alone with Elizabeth for the first time since their afternoon reconciliation. The household had quieted for the night, and awareness hung between them.
“Shall we retire as well?” Elizabeth’s direct gaze belied the innocence of the question.
Darcy offered his arm, which she took without hesitation. “If you wish.”
They ascended the stairs together, the simple contact sending anticipation through his body. At the door to her chamber, Elizabeth turned to face him, her expression both inviting and questioning.
“Will you join me tonight?”
“With pleasure.”
Once inside her room, with the door safely closed behind them, Darcy was momentarily uncertain how to proceed. Their reconciliation was still new, the wounds of their argument not entirely healed. He did not wish to press her too quickly, despite the need that had built during their separation.
Elizabeth solved the dilemma by closing the distance between them, her hands coming to rest on his chest. “I believe we were discussing making up for lost time.”
The invitation in her voice unleashed something in Darcy that had been restrained since their argument.
He drew her against him with sudden urgency, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that contained all the longing and relief of their reconciliation.
Elizabeth responded with equal fervor, her body molding to his as her arms wound around his neck.
Their hands fumbled with buttons and laces, impatient to feel skin against skin. When Elizabeth’s dress pooled at her feet, followed by his waistcoat and shirt, the sight of her in only her thin chemise drew a sound from deep in Darcy’s throat.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, his hands spanning her waist to draw her closer.
Elizabeth’s fingers traced the contours of his chest, exploring with newfound boldness. “I had not thought I would miss this so acutely.”
The admission pleased him. “Nor I,” he confessed, bending to press his lips to the sensitive spot behind her ear. “Though perhaps separation heightens anticipation.”
“A philosopher in the bedchamber,” she teased breathlessly, then gasped as his hand found her breast. “Though I prefer practical demonstrations to theory.”
Darcy smiled against her skin. “Then allow me to demonstrate thoroughly.”
What followed was unlike their previous encounters.
This time, she matched his passion with her own initiative, her hands and lips exploring his body with a curiosity that both aroused and moved him.
When he finally entered her, the sensation of homecoming was so intense that he had to pause, burying his face against her neck to regain control.