Chapter 7 #4
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth whispered, her arms tightening around him.
The sound of his name undid him. Darcy began to move, each thrust driving them both higher.
Elizabeth met him movement for movement, her inhibitions falling away as pleasure built between them.
When she finally cried out, her body tightening around his, Darcy followed her over the edge, her name on his lips as sensation washed over him.
In the aftermath, Elizabeth lay curled against his side, her head pillowed on his chest. Darcy’s fingers traced lazy patterns on her bare shoulder, contentment spreading through him.
“I believe that qualifies as making up for lost time,” Elizabeth murmured.
“Though I would argue that two nights’ absence requires more thorough compensation than a single encounter, no matter how satisfying.”
Elizabeth lifted her head to look at him, her eyes alight with surprised amusement. “Mr. Darcy, are you suggesting we continue our reconciliation?”
“Proper recompense should be proportional to the deprivation suffered.”
A laugh escaped her, the sound warming him from within. “Your reasoning is impeccable. Far be it from me to dispute such sound logic.”
Their second joining was slower, more languid. Afterward, as Elizabeth drifted toward sleep in his arms, Darcy was more content than he could remember being in years.
A sharp knock at the outer door to his chambers startled them both to wakefulness.
“Mr. Darcy?” Jenkins’s voice called through the thick wood. “A messenger has arrived with an urgent express from Lady Catherine de Bourgh.”
Elizabeth tensed against him, fully awake now and clearly recognizing the name. Darcy sighed, the contentment of moments before already receding as reality intruded.
“Tell him I shall be there directly.”
“What could your aunt want at this hour?” Elizabeth asked, pulling the bedcovers up as she watched him don his dressing gown.
Darcy’s expression was grim as he tied the sash. “Nothing pleasant. Lady Catherine is not known for accepting situations that contradict her own plans.”
“And our marriage contradicts her plans.”
“Entirely. She has long intended me to marry her daughter, my cousin Anne.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “I see. Now she has discovered our hasty union.”
He returned to the bedside, bending to place a brief kiss on her lips. “Rest if you can. I will deal with whatever demands or threats her letter contains.”
The messenger waited in his study, a tired-looking young man who admitted to having ridden hard from Kent.
The letter he delivered bore Lady Catherine’s elaborate seal and, when opened, contained exactly the outraged condemnation Darcy had expected.
His aunt had learned of his “ill-advised and hasty marriage to a woman of no consequence,” and demanded his immediate presence at Rosings to explain himself.
The final paragraph contained the threat he had anticipated:
I warn you, Nephew, that I will not countenance this insult to our family name without consequences.
Should you persist in this folly, you will find many doors in society closed to you and your unsuitable bride.
My influence extends far beyond Kent, as you well know.
Consider carefully whether this imprudent match is worth the price you and the upstart will inevitably pay.
Darcy refolded the letter with deliberate care, his jaw tight with controlled anger.
Lady Catherine had chosen the path of threats rather than persuasion.
The explicit nature of her warning concerned him—his aunt did have significant social influence, among the older, more conservative members of the ton.
Yet the threat affected him less than it might have even weeks earlier.
Yes, certain drawing rooms might be closed to them.
Yes, some business connections might become more difficult to maintain.
But weighed against the growing promise of his relationship with Elizabeth, these social inconveniences seemed trivial.
When had his priorities shifted so significantly? When had the good opinion of society, which he had valued all his life, become secondary to the good opinion of one woman who challenged everything he had previously accepted without question?
Darcy dismissed the exhausted messenger with instructions for the butler to provide him food and lodging. Then, instead of returning immediately to Elizabeth’s chamber, he settled at his desk to draft a response to his aunt.
The letter was brief but firm, making clear that his marriage was not open to discussion or negotiation, and that any attempts to undermine Elizabeth’s acceptance in society would be met with his own considerable influence.
He stopped short of cutting ties entirely—for Georgiana’s sake if nothing else—but left no doubt about where his loyalty now lay.
As he sealed the letter, Darcy felt an unfamiliar sense of liberation.
With that feeling warming him against his aunt’s cold disapproval, he extinguished the candle and returned through the connecting door to Elizabeth’s chamber—their chamber now.
She had waited for him, still awake despite the late hour. As Darcy slipped back into bed beside her, Elizabeth turned into his arms without hesitation.
“How severe was your aunt’s condemnation?”
“Entirely as expected. She threatens social ostracism if I do not reconsider our ‘ill-advised union.’”
Elizabeth tensed in his embrace. “And will that concern you greatly? To find certain doors closed to us?”
The question revealed her own vulnerability, her awareness of the social gulf that had separated them before their marriage. Darcy tightened his arms around her reassuringly.
“Some years ago, it might have. But I find my priorities have shifted in recent weeks.”
“Because of our marriage?”
“Because of you.”
Elizabeth relaxed against him, her arm coming to rest across his chest in a gesture that felt both possessive and comforting. “I must warn you, Fitzwilliam, that your aunt is unlikely to be the only one who objects to our connection. Society will have much to say about our hasty marriage.”
“Let them talk. We know the truth of our beginning. And we alone will determine our future.”
The declaration hung between them, bold and uncompromising. Elizabeth lifted her head to meet his gaze, her eyes reflecting the same certainty he felt.
“Then let us make it a future worthy of such defiance.”