Chapter 25 #6
As much as he was incredulously happy about the passion they had shared, David was even more delighted about Cassandra’s choice to remain nestled in his arms afterward.
He still remembered vividly the first time they made love and how completely she had changed by morning.
This time, however, it was different; he felt her fingers entwine with his and caress his hand—and that small gesture filled his heart.
“There is something I want to tell you too, Cassandra.”
“What is it?” She turned her head to face him; her hair tickled him and he buried his face in it to reach her ear.
“I love you. As the months have passed since I proposed to you, I find that I love you more.
Cassandra looked at him silently. He waited for her reply, but it did not come; instead, she rose from the bed covered only in a sheet and unlocked a drawer of her dressing table. David watched her, puzzled and slightly worried. She returned and handed him an old notebook.
His confusion increased. “What is this?”
“It is my diary. I want you to read these pages. It was written after my coming-out ball.”
Half an hour of deep silence followed as he read, looked at her with disbelief, and then read three more times, his expression gradually changing; finally, she took the book from his hands and silently cuddled up to his chest.
She could feel his heart racing and his body tense as his arms enveloped her. “You could have been mine all this time.” He tightened his embrace until she could barely breathe. “All the pain could have been avoided if—
“David?” He did not reply, only kissed her temple.
“I spent years buried in regrets, sorrow and lost happiness, but now my tears are spent. I shall never forget my past, and part of my heart will always belong to Thomas. My future happiness will sometimes be shadowed by painful memories—that is true—but I do love you deeply; I love you with a seventeen-year-old’s shattered dreams as well as a twenty-five-year-old’s hopes.
So if you are sure you want me, let us not waste any more time. ”
She nestled against him and stretched her hand to caress his face; she startled and rolled in his arms to look at him. “David, are you crying?” she asked incredulously, her green eyes smiling through her own tears.
“I certainly am not, madam,” he replied soundly. “Who could imagine a colonel in His Majesty’s army crying? That would be unacceptable.”
“Unacceptable, indeed,” she laughed and kissed his cheeks.
David held her hands and kissed them tenderly many times, and then his lips brushed hers.
“We still have many things to discuss, Cassandra. We have to decide what to do; tomorrow I shall speak to Darcy, and he will help me to apply for a special license. And you—to whom should I apply for your hand?”
“You already said these could wait until tomorrow. I am too exhausted and incoherent to speak now.”
“I am sorry. Should I leave and allow you to sleep? I shall see you tomorrow morning; there is no hurry.”
“I said I am too exhausted to speak,” she repeated in a lower voice.
“Oh…I see,” he smiled and kissed her hands again. “So am I to understand, that, if I do not require you to speak, I may stay longer?” he asked between kisses along her throat.
“You certainly may stay, Colonel, as long as you do not expect me to speak…coherently,” she managed to say before his hands greedily explored her skin, banishing all her thoughts and words—the coherent ones.
∞∞∞
Darcy had quite a stressful night; for the first time since their marriage, Elizabeth was already asleep by the time he entered their rooms, and she looked so tired that he had no heart to wake her only for his pleasure. So he allowed her to rest, which greatly affected his own.
He finally slept at dawn; when he awoke, Elizabeth was gone. His man informed him that the mistress left word she would be downstairs.
Darcy finally found her, but she begged him to wait for her in the breakfast room as she was occupied with making proper arrangements for their guests’ journey to London.
She promised she would join him for coffee in five minutes, and Darcy had no choice but to obey.
He spent more than half an hour alone, reading newspapers and wondering whether he should buy Elizabeth a new watch as her old one did not accurately measure how long a minute was.
“Good morning, Darcy.” He was greeted by a cheerful Cassandra.
“Look who is here so early in the morning! I cannot believe my eyes,” he said, and was rather shocked when Cassandra placed a quick kiss on his cheek as she had not done since they were children.
“All right, that demands an explanation,” he said soundly as she poured herself a large cup of coffee.
“I, too, would like an explanation about why you kissed my husband, Lady Cassandra.” Elizabeth sat by Darcy, smiling, waiting for an answer. “I dare say you are feeling much better today. I imagine you slept quite well.”
Cassandra replied in a lower voice, ignoring Darcy, “Your guess is only half correct, Elizabeth. Indeed, I feel better than I have felt in many years, but I did not sleep at all the entire night—and neither did David.” Darcy promptly spilled his coffee on his coat.
He looked at them in disbelief, waiting for some sign of remorse from his friend or embarrassment from his wife. He saw none.
“I cannot deny that I am happy you reached an understanding with David, Cassandra; however I also cannot refrain from telling you that you are shameless to make such a public confession,” he scolded her.
Cassandra smiled sweetly. “Thank you, Mr Darcy; I learned that from your wife.”
A lost Darcy witnessed Elizabeth and Cassandra laughing together. Elizabeth leaned over to him and covered his hand with hers.
“Forgive us, my love. It is a joke between Cassandra and me. I shall explain it to you later.”
“By all means, my dear wife, do explain it to me. But a little later, as now I am going to have a word with David—if he is awake.” He rose from his seat, but Cassandra stopped him with a mischievous smile.
“He is very much awake, but there is no need for you to go anywhere; he will be here soon.”
“You are shameless, you know that,” Darcy repeated to his friend, shaking his head in reprobation. Then his countenance softened, and a caring smile appeared on his lips. “I am pleased to see you happy, Cassandra.”
“Thank you, Darcy. I shall always be indebted to you—
“Oh, stop speaking nonsense; we have serious things to discuss,” he interrupted her, while Elizabeth considered that neither Darcy nor Cassandra was comfortable receiving gratitude.
“So true, Darcy. We have many things to discuss,” said the colonel, striding into the room.
“Good morning, Mrs Darcy, Lady Cassandra,” he said politely, but Cassandra laughed.
“No need to be polite. I already told them what happened,” Cassandra confessed. “I hope you do not mind.”
“Mind? No indeed, I am quite pleased.”
“I am not pleased at all, David as somebody could hear her,” said Darcy. “For heaven’s sake, there are a thousand people in this house, not to mention the servants. We must be guarded. You would not want to ruin your reputation forever, would you?”
“I am sorry, Darcy. You are correct as usual. It is your home, and I have no right to disrespect your rules. I promise I will be more cautious from now on,” Cassandra apologised, as did David, but Elizabeth began to laugh.
Neither Cassandra nor the colonel managed to discover why she was laughing. Darcy did not need to ask; he was only grateful that his wife chose not to betray his own occasional disregard for the rules.
“David, we must discuss your plans; considering the situation, I hope you will not long delay your wedding. I know I am not Cassandra’s guardian; still I dare say I am responsible for her and—
“Of course you are responsible for me, my dear elder brother,” Cassandra replied. “And I would be more than grateful to you if you would take care of everything. I already told David he was to ask you for my hand, you know. Elizabeth, shall we go upstairs now? I want to talk to you privately.”
“Gladly,” Elizabeth said, and as she rose from her seat, she leaned and unexpectedly placed a soft kiss on Darcy’s lips. He had no time to react—even less to scold her—as two servants and Colonel Thomason entered the room at that moment.
Darcy spent the next few minutes slightly embarrassed, wondering whether the others had noticed his wife’s impulsive gesture; however, he could not deny that the taste of her lips was indeed delicious. He checked the clock to see how many hours remained until he could be alone with her again.
∞∞∞
Such a joyful Christmas Eve had not been seen at Pemberley for years, Darcy thought.
He was deeply, completely happy—happier than he would have dared to dream a year earlier.
There he was, surrounded by his dearest relatives and friends and wondering how a family dinner could be so perfect.
He smiled at himself as he realised how pleased he was to have Elizabeth’s family there, though his tranquillity was somewhat disturbed.
And there were David and Cassandra; his beloved Georgiana, more lively and cheerful than he could remember; his old friend Bingley, completely charmed by his wife; and his dearest Elizabeth, glowing with happiness as she hosted their small party and frequently turned her sparkling eyes toward him.
The dinner ended, and Darcy invited the gentlemen to his library for a short drink, as they were all desirous to be reunited with the ladies as soon as possible. While they enjoyed their wine, their conversation was interrupted by Darcy’s servant, entering with an express for Mr Bingley.
“For me? Who would send me an express?” he wondered and broke the seal so hastily that he tore the paper.
A moment later, his face paled as his mouth opened in shock. The others put down their glasses and moved toward him as he was in evident need of support.
Finally, Bingley lifted his eyes to Darcy and then to David, and managed to articulate: “Caroline has left for the Continent. She married Markham a month ago.”