Chapter 27
Elizabeth and Darcy did not wait for another second to leave the room.
Grateful for the opportunity to escape together, the two lovers ran hand in hand down the hall like children.
Darcy opened a door at the end into a small parlour and invited her in.
She thought he was showing her the house, and, delighted, she turned to him for an explanation.
But she was wrong, all he wanted to show her was his love and his arms entwined around her lean body in a loving embrace.
“Stop,” Elizabeth said, but her voice was nothing but an unconvincing whisper.
Throughout dinner, the tremor caused by his earlier caresses had not left her body.
The memory of their kisses made her wonder where that love had been hidden all this time.
Looking at her betrothed, who could not take his eyes from her, she marvelled that she had ever believed her love different from Jane’s.
Standing close to him, Elizabeth radiated joy, her beauty crowned by her happiness.
She was his betrothed, and yet he needed to keep remembering that it was not a dream.
When he had dared to take her hand under the table, she had paled and then blushed, nibbling her lower lip.
“Do not bite your lip; only I have the right to do that,” he murmured while she looked fearfully around her, scared that someone might hear them.
“Sir!” she whispered with reproach.
“What is it, my lady? These are words of love.”
“These are indecent words,” she continued in the same tone.
“Well, my lady, from now on, I have the right to be as indecent as I want!”
“Why did you bring me here?” she asked, trying to look out from his arms to see the room.
“This is your parlour, madam,” he replied while his hands stroked her blissfully. “I cannot wait a whole month,” he continued, near her ear.
“Fitzwilliam! We have been betrothed for only three hours, and you are already impatient to marry.”
“Elizabeth!” he said, imitating her tone. “What are you talking about? I have loved you since November and craved having you by my side since Kent!”
“Craved?” she asked, blushing, but she did not know if it was that word that was tormenting her or his hands, becoming more and more…indecent.”
“Yes, craved, yearned for you while you took riding lessons.”
Elizabeth, still engulfed in deep emotions, changed her tone when she answered. “I see you already have some complaints to make about your future wife!”
“Yes, absolutely!”
“I see,” she said, and Darcy recognised in his arms the young lady with her gown soiled at the hem, appearing before him one November morning at Netherfield—spectacular and defiant.
“Then, Mr Darcy, please begin to tell your future wife about all the ladies you have loved in the past. And hurry up, we have only one month at our disposal.”
His laughter filled the room. Elizabeth, again terrified, covered his mouth. “Be silent, you fool, or you will drown out the music with your laughter.”
“And all the guests will come to discover you in my arms!”
“Yes!”
“Then let me dishonour you properly, to give them a good story!”
Elizabeth broke free from his arms.
“What a thought, sir. Here? Now?”
“Yes, my love, here we are in your future parlour and behind that door is your bedroom and then my bedroom. You can choose!”
She thought he was joking, but then Elizabeth realised that his face was severe.
“You are not joking.”
“I never do when it is about you.”
“I want to see my bedroom,” she said courageously. “And then your bedroom and we will have one month to decide where—”
“Where?” he insisted on knowing.
“Where I will become yours!”
∞∞∞
It was very late when they finally left.
As soon as the carriage began to move, Elizabeth fell asleep leaning on her mother.
Lydia and Kitty were still giggling when Mrs Bennet made a gesture to silence them.
She took Elizabeth into her arms under the loving eyes of Mr Bennet, and together they watched over her sleep, perhaps for the last time.