Chapter 2.14
“I am very sorry for all the distress my cousin caused you, Elizabeth. Are you well? Would you rather go and rest a little? I can find no proper words to apologise…”
Darcy held his wife in his arms on the couch in the library, caressing her hair.
“You must not apologise for his faults. And do not worry about me—I am perfectly fine. But I confess I am rather troubled. I still find it hard to believe that your cousin is the one responsible for Maud’s situation. I wonder how they found out.”
“It appears that, after our visit yesterday, my aunt and Robert slowly realised the truth, and they went to confront Thomas. I can only imagine the fight. My aunt is very upset.”
“And you? How did you discover it?”
“I began to think of the coincidence of names, and my suspicions were aroused last night. I decided to speak to Thomas first thing in the morning, and the rest you already know.”
“Yes—how shocking. The only positive thing is that your cousin seems to be interested in Maud’s well-being. Although his fault cannot be diminished, at least he did not purposely abandon her. I almost regret that I have been so harsh with him. I wonder whether he suffers…”
“You are too kind and too generous. I cannot be so indulgent with my cousin. I have no doubt that you have been anything but fair to him. As for his suffering—he kept repeating that most gentlemen are in similar situations, and he made this his excuse. Well, if other gentlemen survive their suffering, I am confident he will do so too. Let us not pity him.”
“What will come of this? Could there be a positive ending to such a story? I am quite positive that she possesses a deep affection for the viscount, and he declares he is not indifferent to her. Can he truly take care of her? If his feelings fade in time, what will become of her?”
“Elizabeth, I must draw some limits to this. I feel this story affects you in a way that might harm you, and I cannot allow it. Maud will receive the proper care until her full recovery, but there is nothing more we can do. Once her health allows it, she must decide what she wishes to do. For the present, my primary concern is your well-being. I shall have it no other way, and I must insist that you obey me, just as you vowed in church.”
His voice sounded half mocking, but his expression was severe enough. Elizabeth could easily see the correctness of his reasoning, and she knew she was to blame for not showing enough attention to her own husband.
She gently caressed his face.
“Forgive me, my dear; I am aware that my reactions were exaggerated, and I thank you for your patience. I allowed this situation to affect me more than it should, but I will correct that. It is just that I have not been myself lately.”
“You must not apologise for being caring and kind. That is just one reason why I love you so deeply. But we must return to our usual schedule. And we shall start by riding our horses in the park after breakfast. Would you like that?”
“Yes, very much.”
As they walked toward the dining room, Elizabeth turned to her husband.
“William, did you ever think about what would have happened had Mr Bingley never leased Netherfield? What if you had married your cousin Anne, perhaps, and Charlotte married Mr Collins? We might have met while we visited Rosings. Would we still have fallen in love? And if so, what would have become of us?”
Darcy stared at her as though struggling to understand the meaning of her words. He frowned and then seemed to search for the right words.
“No, I have not thought of that. And I thank the Lord that I do not have to. I am sure of one thing: that I would have done everything for the privilege of earning your love and keeping it.”
∞∞∞
The next three days passed uneventfully. To everyone’s relief, Maud’s improvement continued, and the signs of her recovery were beyond doubt.
Darcy kept his word and dedicated most of his time to his wife. They walked or rode in Hyde Park, listened to Georgiana play, or read in the library. And he filled her room with fresh, spring flowers.
When he attended meetings at his club, Elizabeth—with Georgiana, Jane, and Mrs Gardiner—visited the modiste.
Lady Matlock did not keep them company. The colonel called on them once to inform them his mother was in no disposition for visits, and nobody insisted on further details.
However, every second day, Lady Matlock sent Elizabeth a note inquiring about Maud’s health, a fact that Elizabeth found both surprising and admirable.
The Gardiners and the Bingleys spent an entire afternoon at Darcy House.
As the master had promised, a large, comfortable room was arranged for Becky and Margaret when they would spend the night there.
The girls were overjoyed, and Becky declared Darcy to be her favourite gentleman—except for her papa—and she forgave him for stealing her dear Lizzy.
Elizabeth needed only a few minutes of private conversation with her sister to be convinced of Mrs Bingley’s growing happiness.
The newly wedded couple was still alone in their home, and they had only dined once with Miss Bingley and the Hursts—which was further proof of Mr Bingley’s improved determination.
He seemed perfectly capable of ensuring his wife’s peace and felicity.
Strangely even to herself, all the pleasant activities made Elizabeth tired quite often. She felt the need to rest in the afternoon and went to bed rather early in the evening—a rare occurrence.
Darcy was there all the time, watching her. He held her in his arms before she fell asleep, and his eyes were the first thing she noticed when she woke up.
On the fourth evening after the terrible confrontation with the Matlock gentlemen, Elizabeth was ready for sleep, covered in soft sheets and admiring her husband’s features as he read at the table by the window. He said he wished to allow her sleep without disturbing her.
With a shiver, she suddenly realised they had spent almost every minute together but had not loved each other for a whole week—from the first night of their return to London.
Was it possible? Had it been so long? Had she neglected her husband so completely that she had become indifferent to him?
And he made no attempt at closeness either.
He held her in his arms many times, and she had slept in his embrace often, but nothing more.
Yes, he had generously offered her the peace she needed to rest, but she had told him many times that his love was the best palliation for any distress.
And that evening—how was it possible that he had not joined her in their bed? Reading while she fell asleep—why would he do that?
“William, will you not come to bed, please? I cannot sleep without you.”
He smiled and put down the book.
“Of course, I will.”
He lay near her, and she cuddled into his chest.
“This is much better. I missed you—I miss you every minute when you are not near me. And I longed to feel you near me. I missed the feel of your hands, your warmth, your passion…”
“I have missed you too, my beloved wife. I miss you every day, every hour, every moment. I have never desired anything as much as I desire your closeness, your warmth, your sweet passion. Never doubt that.”
He started to kiss her neck while his hands stroked her body through the silk of her gown.
She sighed with pleasure, abandoning herself to his caresses, which soon conquered her.
He hastily removed her clothes, making her naked body shiver from the cold of the room and the warmth of his kisses.
His strong yet tender hands fondled every spot of her skin, arousing inside her a yearning for more.
As pleasure slowly overwhelmed her, her body opened to him while her arms and legs pulled him closer.
Her moans proved how much she craved to feel him closer to her, above her, inside her.
He removed his shirt and she daringly caressed his torso, then her fingers stroked along his spine.
His kisses silenced her and took her breath away, but instead of joining with her as she expected and desired, he gently moved out of her grasp while he continued the exploration of her body: touching, caressing, kissing, tasting.
Unable to speak or to think, she allowed herself to be spoiled by him, abandoning herself to him, greedily accepting the pleasure he wished to offer her—different than before, more times than before.
At midnight, exhausted by delight and spent by her unleashed passion, she lay in her husband’s arms. He gently caressed her hair, kissing her temple while she struggled to understand what he wished and why he purposely avoided loving her in the most complete way as they had done so many times before.
The pleasure she had experienced, almost too powerful to bear, was lacking something, and both her body and her mind were left wanting.
She wished to ask him but did not find the right words for such a question, nor did she dare to move. He stroked her arms, and she shivered, which he immediately noticed. He helped her put on her nightgown, then his arms tightened around her and he wrapped them both in two heavy blankets.
“Is it comfortable enough? Are you still cold?” he whispered in her ear, his lips fondling her earlobe.
She shivered ever harder. “I am not cold—I never was. I am perfectly comfortable. William, I—”
“I am pleased to hear that. My love, we should sleep now. It is very late.”
Elizabeth was not oblivious to the interruption but found nothing to say except, “You are right of course; let us sleep.”
Sometime later, Elizabeth was almost asleep when she heard him whispering through the dark silence.
“I love you so much, Elizabeth…so very much.”
∞∞∞