Chapter 1
Darcy
Fitzwilliam Darcy woke up and stretched. It was still dark, and he turned over, cuddling a pillow to his chest and reliving the high points of his dream about Elizabeth Bennet.
It had been more than a week since he and Elizabeth had convinced Mr Bennet to give them permission to marry. Of course, they were incredibly happy, and they celebrated each morning as they walked together to the top of Oakham Mount. They shared food and kisses and their plans for the day.
Unfortunately, those plans generally included more time apart than they had recently enjoyed.
Elizabeth had to work hard to restrain her mother from arranging the most extravagant event since Lucullus’s banquets.
Mrs Bennet seemed convinced that every second of every day must be spent on ordering Elizabeth’s trousseau and planning the guest list, flowers, and menu for the wedding breakfast.
Darcy spent much of his time helping Bingley learn about running an estate.
He felt grateful to his friend for hosting him and his sister Georgiana in such an open-ended arrangement—“as long as it took” to court and wed Elizabeth.
Of course Darcy also had to deal with his own estates; attending to correspondence with his solicitors, bankers, and especially his stewards was due the proper time and attention.
One day, Darcy and Elizabeth had taken a break from wedding preparations and estate training to perform a very unpleasant task: informing Georgiana about the disreputable history of one George Wickham.
The girl had been shocked to hear about the unsavoury habits of their father’s godson, but the couple took the time explain and soothe and guide her into an understanding that some people were even more poorly behaved than the girls Georgiana had met at school, sometimes causing not just emotional pain but also physical pain, even death.
“Some people have shown from past actions that they cannot be trusted, Georgie-girl,” Darcy had said.
“Your classmates were unpleasant to your face, which is not at all a good thing, but even more dangerous are people who lie so convincingly that you believe they are wonderful people with good intentions—but, in truth, they are the opposite. Wickham is an example of a man with pretty manners and outer beauty but deliberately evil actions.”
Elizabeth taught the young girl a few ways to protect herself from a larger, stronger man if she was ever importuned.
Darcy explained why that situation would never, ever occur—or, rather, he explained his plans to secure the safety of Elizabeth and Georgiana until the end of time.
Elizabeth reminded them both that plans sometimes go awry, particularly when dealing with people who cannot be trusted.
Speaking of people who cannot be trusted—Darcy sat up in bed, realising that the date was the fifteenth of August. The Hursts and Miss Bingley were expected to arrive that day.
Damn.
A glance at the clock prompted Darcy to get dressed and gather items for his early-morning picnic with Elizabeth.
He would be a bit early, but he would feed his beautiful steed a few treats while they waited for his intended.
Gulltoppr enjoyed their early-morning rides, and he especially enjoyed eating carrots and summer fruits.
It was not long before Darcy was treated to the sight of his beloved.
Elizabeth was wearing a pale green dress and a richly patterned shawl, and her bright eyes and even brighter smile were everything lovely.
She seemed to float up the path towards him in a cloud, because the sun’s first light was evaporating the dew, causing a warm sort of fog to rise from the ground.
“Hello, my darling Elizabeth,” he whispered when she reached him. His arms encircled her, and he brushed her forehead with a kiss.
“Hello, my handsome almost-husband,” she answered. She added, “Are all your defences ready for today’s incursion? Guards warned, weapons honed, keys secured?”
He chuckled and said, “Well, all is as ready as it can be. My valet has pre-folded a lot of paper wedges to use to detect anyone entering one of my rooms with the use of a key or by picking the lock, and Mrs Nicholls has agreed to a strict schedule for the maids to follow as far as cleaning my rooms and building the fires. Also, my valet is to sleep in my bed chamber. A few other plans are in place—but you yourself pointed out that schemes can miscarry and plans can be thwarted. I shall have to do my best to keep my sister and me safe from Miss Bingley.”
The two began to walk up to the top of the hill, Elizabeth’s hand tucked in the crook of his arm at times and firmly held by his own hand at other times.
Despite the disparity of their height, they kept pace with one another easily, and they were comfortable with silences as well as conversations on anything and everything.
When they reached the top, Darcy spread a quilt on the ground, and they sat down to eat and drink… and of course kiss.
Elizabeth’s kisses still jolted Darcy’s entire system, still stole his breath and skipped his heart and reminded him of his more torrid dreams of the night before.
He swept away the cloth napkin and the basket and laid down, gently pulling Elizabeth to lay almost on top of him, and he ached for her in the familiar way that was linked in his mind with all their early-morning walks.
The ache was thus more pleasure than pain—although he certainly looked forward to the time when she would be able to offer relief.
For now…Elizabeth suckled his lower lip as his fingers combed through her beauteous hair, disrupting hairpins.
She cupped his cheeks as he deepened their kiss.
She moved her legs in such a way that he had to stop exploring the contours of her back in order to hold her still, lest he spend into his breeches.
“Sorry,” she whispered, pulling away.
He shook his head. “Do not be sorry. I am just…so ready to make you mine. But we only have to wait another few weeks.”
“Almost five weeks!” she said, her voice almost whining in its complaint.
They began to pack away the remnants of their picnic breakfast into her basket and his saddlebag, chuckling ruefully at their own impatience.
After all, most couples knew each other at least a year before marrying.
Mr Bennet had argued for a long engagement, given that Elizabeth was only eighteen years old and they had only known each other since early May.
However, the couple pushed for a short engagement, and a compromise had been reached for a wedding date in mid-September.
Walking back down the trail to the place where Darcy had left Gulltoppr, Elizabeth spoke of the birds they could hear and see.
She pointed out a sparrowhawk on the hunt and two kestrels hovering in the air.
“Will Miss Bingley be like the kestrel, watching and waiting, ready to dive onto an opportunity to prey on any weakness?”
Darcy chuckled, but he could not entirely quell the disquiet he felt at the notion. “One thing is certain,” he said. “Even if she manages to arrange some sort of compromise through trickery, I will marry only you, and you will marry only me. Nothing shall disrupt that.”
Elizabeth nodded, as determined as him on their course.
“I have another bit of news,” Darcy said. “Late yesterday afternoon I received word that Richard is planning to come to Netherfield for a few days.”
“Oh….”
Her single-syllable response told him nothing, and her expression was neutral, but Darcy assumed that she felt at least a bit uneasy.
His cousin Richard Fitzwilliam had met Elizabeth in April, about a month before she was introduced—by Richard himself—to Darcy.
Richard had, they later learnt, fallen in love with Elizabeth but was unable to offer for her because, although he was the son of an earl, he was the second son.
His career in the British army was not lucrative enough for him to marry a lady without fortune.
Darcy knew that Elizabeth had not returned Richard’s feelings and would not have accepted his proposal, even had he been capable of making one, and of course Darcy and Elizabeth had been immediately attracted to one another.
There was no circumstance in which Richard should have declared his feelings for Elizabeth…
. But he had, straining Richard’s friendship with Elizabeth and, more upsetting still, his longstanding close relationship with Darcy.
Squeezing Elizabeth’s hand, Darcy told her, “He might be deployed to Spain, any time now, and he wishes to give us his felicitations in person before he leaves.”
She seemed to understand what he did not say: that the colonel was facing danger—and that he might be saying goodbye. Her face softened, and Elizabeth asked, “When is he expected to arrive?”
“In three days. And he expects to stay for three days.”
“Thank you for the notice, William.”
Darcy kissed her hand and said, “Have a beautiful day, dearest. Good luck preventing your mother from arranging to have swimming swans, flying doves, and strutting peacocks at the wedding breakfast.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in a smile, and she responded in kind: “Good luck with your kestrel watching. Just make certain that Miss Bingley does not transform into a limpet; it can be so difficult to pull away from a highly motivated limpet!”
“See you tonight, dearest; and I promise to be limpet-less.”
Having heard that the carriage had been spotted, down the road, Bingley waited for his relations on the front steps of the manor house.
Darcy remained in the blue drawing room, sitting in a Bergère armchair, distant from any seating other than the settee on which sat Georgiana and her companion, Mrs Green.
His sister had said she wished to work on her embroidery, but Darcy could see that she was fidgeting more than stitching.
Mrs Green and Darcy both held books, but Darcy had yet to turn a page.