Chapter 14
Darcy stirred as dawn light filtered into his wife’s bedchamber. He knew the opportunity to sleep beside her each night was now the greatest privilege he could wish for.
It had been three days since that radiant Christmas morning, and the gratification he had felt in watching her enjoyment of the sleigh ride.
He had thought it a small indulgence to please her, but Elizabeth’s gentle heart had transformed it into a joy far greater.
Her way of showing gratitude had been wholly her own; and he could feel nothing but elation that he had a wife who loved him and had enough confidence in him to reveal the same passion he felt for her.
He carefully turned his head so he could see her face, relaxed and unguarded in sleep, and his pulse quickened a little, that she trusted him so well as to permit him to stay while she slept and he vowed he would do all in his power to deserve that trust.
His thoughts turned to the previous days — beside each other constantly, talking, sharing their memories, their deepest fears and joys.
Elizabeth had refused to stay at home on St Stephen’s Day, insisting that she join him to distribute the annual boxes to their tenants, and he was humbled and amazed that she already knew them so well and the way she was revered by them.
Even while she had been unhappy at their forced marriage, she had worked hard as mistress of Pemberley, and the fruits of her endeavours were now plain to him. And he had nearly lost the chance of this felicity though his own pride and disdain.
As he lay there, he pushed away his thoughts and admired the way the early light picked out her features and the way the little curl by her left ear showed chestnut.
The same curl was a wayward thing; it always escaped her pins and tumbled down, softening the line of her jaw.
He could not resist leaning slowly forward, touching it and her face beneath with his lips.
He watched her stir and lift her gaze to him, a tender, sleepy smile just for him.
In the breakfast room, servants dismissed and the door closed, he drew out her chair for her, and reached out to draw the apricot preserve closer to her.
Filling her plate, he crossed the room again.
“I pray you, eat well this morning, Elizabeth. I think we may take a leisurely amble through the gallery this morning. I wish to discuss with you the background scenery you would wish in your portrait and then we can discuss the best place to display the finished work, taking that into consideration.”
The slight lines between her brows caused him to want to kiss her and carry her back to their chamber, and he stepped back a little.
“But William, I cannot know the background I wish until I have seen all there is to see of the Pemberley grounds and the Peaks; and that will have to wait until summer.”
He chuckled and went to fill his own plate. Once he was sitting close beside her, he smiled teasingly.
“I can understand your wishes. In the meantime, I will arrange, if you will permit it, another portrait with the background of one of the rooms in the house. If you will allow, I would like it to be of both of us.” His voice deepened and became very quiet.
“I wish to demonstrate our love for each other.”
Her lips twitched and he knew she was about to tease. “Mr. Darcy! I am shocked!” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “For I do not wish the painting to be of us together in my bedchamber.” She gave him a prim look before a tiny giggle escaped. She sat up straighter.
“Forgive me for my impropriety.” Her slightly saucy smile belied the formal words.
He squeezed her hand. “I, too, find myself uncommonly light-hearted, being with you. I pray our feelings for each other will never fade.”
He reached for the teapot. “Allow me to refill your cup, my love.”
Later, in his study, he attempted to concentrate on the business of his estate. Tomorrow, he would meet his steward and they would examine the accounts. But he needed to review them at least briefly before Mr. Reed arrived.
He smiled to himself; he would normally have achieved this before Christmas, but his new understanding with Elizabeth had changed everything. The most surprising part to him was that he had no concerns about it. None. She was the most important part of his life now, and she had changed him utterly.
Gratitude. His gratitude to her felt unbounded; he had not known true happiness until now. And Pemberley! The whole place was different now that she was here and happy. It felt cheerful, the staff smiled more and moved with a lighter spring in their steps. Georgiana would love it.
He glanced at the window. Snow still lay thickly in great drifts but the storm had abated, and there had been no additional snow for a few days.
It was likely the roads were clear. Perhaps Richard would escort Georgiana north for the New Year at least, even if they had been forced to miss Christmas.
He could be content if his sister, beside Elizabeth, saved a fragment of the Yule log to be kept for next year.
He had glanced at it this morning where it still smouldered.
It would last through until after Twelfth Night, just as he always wished it to; the staff and tenants believed that would protect Pemberley from fire and misfortune — and their lives were bound up in Pemberley as closely as those of the Darcy family.
The Darcy family. He sighed in contentment.
Now they were three, and he was in perfect charity with Elizabeth.
He prayed they might be blessed with children, and the corridors of Pemberley would echo with laughter such as he had never heard here.
He was sure that Elizabeth knew how to raise children to be loving and cheerful, as he did not.
A vision filled his mind; dark-haired children sharing her features, running across the great lawn of Pemberley, and he shook his head, smiling. He closed the great ledgers; he could not work this morning.
A gentle tap at the door heralded his wife, who glanced at the closed ledgers. “I see you have finished, William. Might we take tea together in the small parlour?”
He rose to his feet. “I can do no work today, Elizabeth. You have bewitched me, mind, body, and soul. I would dearly wish to take tea with you in the small parlour — or in the library, wherever you lead me.”
She reached for his hand, her gaze mischievous.
“I see you seek to blame me for your lack of industry. Fie! Then I shall indeed lead you further astray.” Her gaze turned playful. “Or do you wish us to retire to my chamber and allow the tea to go cold?”
He felt the heat of a flush on the back of his neck, and drew her closer. “Temptress!” He lowered his lips to hers. “Can you, dearest, bear your blushes if we do so?”