Chapter 3.19
From an early age, Fitzwilliam Darcy had been known for his keen mind, his sense of duty and his proper behaviour.
As the only son—and for a long time the only child—he was given good principles, which he learned and embraced.
He showed a great desire for the improvement of his mind through extensive reading and of his body through exercise.
He grew up to be a man of few words but many actions.
He became involved in the running of the Pemberley estates and properties, side by side with his excellent father.
Due to his mother’s illness and early death, worry soon became his constant companion. This worry, combined with his deep sense of duty, meant he was rarely seen laughing.
Though his manners always followed the requirements of etiquette, Fitzwilliam Darcy’s affection and loyalty for his family made him somehow selfish concerning those outside his immediate circle.
Whenever someone was in need, he was ready to help, therefore those who were under his protection considered him honest, generous, fair and honourable.
But new acquaintances often judged him as being arrogant, even unpleasant, as he gave little consideration to the feelings of others and he rarely behaved in such a way as to simply satisfy the other’s expectations.
After his parents passed away and he took over the responsibilities of his fortune and his sister, his inclinations towards seriousness and solitude became more apparent.
He was solemn, even grave, dependable, always demanding the best from himself and from those around him.
Everybody knew that Mr. Darcy’s good opinion once lost, was lost forever.
While his tenants considered him the best landlord and his servants called him the best master, his peers spoke of his lack of amiability and haughtiness.
He attended parties and balls as much as the rules of society demanded, including at St James’s Palace and at Almack’s. But he was rarely seen dancing and chatting with eligible young ladies, as a single man in possession of an excellent fortune should do.
Due to his situation in life, his family’s heritage and his handsome appearance, he had been considered one of the most desirable men of the ton and many young ladies fought for his attention.
And yet, he had reached the age of eight and twenty, without being closely involved with any young lady, without being the subject of any scandal, without being known as keeping mistresses.
He was a private man and, whatever he might have done, it remained secret and only rumours without proof circulated about him.
The news of Fitzwilliam Darcy marrying the daughter of an unknown country gentleman left people in disbelief and even offended some.
Since then, almost two months had passed and every time he was seen in public, with his new wife or without her, his behaviour was even more closely scrutinised.
Apparently, not much had changed in his manners, except for the fact that he was spotted smiling and holding his wife’s hand all too many times.
The gentleman cared little about such speculations. He was well aware of how much his life, his behaviour and his entire being had changed since he had fallen in love with Elizabeth and even more so since he had married her.
For almost a month now, they had been a complete family, as Georgiana had returned home after staying with the Matlocks for the first two weeks of their marriage.
The newly-wedded couple accomplished all their duties regarding their relatives and social obligations, yet they were very careful regarding their privacy.
Whenever they were alone in a chamber, nobody disturbed them; even Georgiana learned that very quickly when she found them kissing in the library one afternoon.
Darcy attended to his business responsibilities, while Elizabeth took care of the household and kept up a weekly correspondence with Mrs. Reynolds at Pemberley. She was also on good terms with the Matlocks, and she and Georgiana were as close as sisters.
Little Emily—the girl who Elizabeth had taken under her protection, saving her from unfair and harsh treatment in Madame Claudette’s fashion-house—had slowly accommodated to her safe and comfortable new life.
It was an action that established the staff’s opinion of the new mistress forever.
Such kindness and thoughtfulness had rarely been seen or heard of.
If the master of the house was always obeyed out of respect, consideration and gratitude for the good treatment and fair payment he had provided to his household for years, the servants quickly offered Elizabeth their loyalty out of affection and admiration.
Mrs. Darcy always had a good word and a smile for them and enquired about their health. She joined them downstairs at least every two days and regularly complimented the chef for the tasty meals—all small things but things that staff in a large house rarely receive.
Elizabeth’s gesture of taking little Emily into her home and then dismissing any future connection with the famous modiste had stirred enough waters in town.
The subject had been much discussed among the ladies of the ton.
Madame Claudette claimed that in her house, everybody was working hard—including herself—and nobody could expect her to shelter and feed someone who could not repay her in any way.
She never mentioned the one thousand pounds Darcy had paid her; instead, she always complained that a woman with no protection is often at the mercy of the rich.
Lady Matlock had been on Elizabeth’s side throughout the affair, even when she disagreed with her. Regarding Madame Claudette, she cut the connection too, the moment when little Emily had confessed that she slept on the floor.
Other ladies of consequence had contradictory opinions.
Some of them hesitated to appreciate such an act, as it left them in an unfavourable position for ignoring the little girl’s ill-treatment themselves.
Others claimed that no one should interfere in other people’s households and that Mrs. Darcy had crossed a delicate line.
Even the noble patronesses of Almack’s were split in two, with Lady Sefton being partial to Elizabeth, due to her close acquaintance with Lady Matlock and to Elizabeth rescuing her dog.
The others were reluctant to approve of a young woman whose family’s situation was wanting, yet had managed to enter their exalted circle.
And Lady Catherine’s loud and public disapproval weighed heavily enough to support their distant behaviour.
Lady Catherine de Bourgh eventually returned to Kent, resentful and disappointed that her intervention did not bring the universal rejection of the new and undeserving Mrs. Darcy as she had intended.
She refused any reconciliation with Darcy and blamed her brother—Lord Matlock—for being weak and allowing the shades of Pemberley to be polluted.
Anne de Bourgh had little say in the matter, and she joined her mother, despite Lady Matlock’s repeated invitation to spend some time with them.
Despite the bluster created by their union and their actions, the Darcys lived their daily lives in bliss, sharing their happiness and surrounded by the affection of their friends and family.
They had intended to leave for Pemberley earlier in the year, but Darcy decided to remain in town until the spring, to avoid exposing Elizabeth and Georgiana to a long journey in winter weather.
“Sir, there is a letter for you,” Darcy’s butler, Miles, said as he entered the library. He held out the tray and Darcy immediately recognised Bingley’s erratic handwriting.
“Thank you. Is there any messenger waiting for a reply?”
“No, sir. Forgive me, are you going to leave the house this morning? It is snowing quite hard.”
“Is it? I had not noticed. How lovely. The first snow this year. Mrs. Darcy will be delighted. I am sure she will enjoy a walk in the park after breakfast.”
“It is rather cold and windy,” Miles continued.
Darcy rose from his chair to look outside. “Mrs. Darcy is not afraid of cold or wind,” he said with a smile, mostly to himself.
“Shall I ask Stevens to prepare your clothes for outside, then?” the butler enquired.
“I shall ring for him if necessary. I am going to see how Mrs. Darcy is doing.”
“I know Sarah and Emily were in the kitchen, eating.”
“Very well. Do you happen to know if Miss Darcy has called for her maid?”
“Not that I heard of, sir. I know Emily checked her door several times; she is restless, as Miss Darcy promised to give her another piano lesson.”
“Very well. I will be in my apartment until breakfast.”
Miles only bowed, while Darcy left the library with the letter in his hand and a large grin on his face. He and his wife had an intimate habit that they both enjoyed: one of them almost every morning woke up first and then awakened the other.
He usually liked to watch her sleeping, but that morning he had woken up early and retired to the library. In less than a week they would be celebrating their two-month anniversary and he had prepared a surprise for her, with the complicity of her family.
Since they could not travel to Pemberley, Darcy hoped to celebrate their anniversary and the Christmas season—which was about to begin—together with the Bingleys and the Bennets, in London.
As much as he did not enjoy large gatherings, which threatened his peace, he knew that Elizabeth would love the presence of her family.
Her enjoyment was more important than his discomfort.
He opened the door slowly and stepped inside.
Elizabeth was sleeping soundly, with her hair spread across the pillow.
Her nightgown had slipped down, exposing her right shoulder.
In the bedchamber it was warm, and outside, the wind was blowing the snowflakes.
He put another log on the fire, then sat on the bed.
He remained still, watching her; even after almost two months, he could not get enough of her.
It was not only the desire, not only his passion; his mind and his heart were yearning for her just as much as his body.
She seemed to feel his gaze and slowly moved, pushing the sheets away.
The thin fabric of her nightgown revealed her legs, her arms, her breasts moving with each breath, showing a most alluring image to his greedy eyes.
He did not touch her, though. He did not disturb her, although every fibre of his body was crying out for her closeness.
“I missed you, husband,” she eventually whispered, her lazy eyes opening from behind heavy lashes. “I feel the empty bed when you leave, and I only find rest knowing you are not far away and will return soon.”
He leaned closer and placed a soft kiss on both her palms. “I must leave to allow you to sleep in the morning since I keep you awake most of the night.”
“Have you heard me complaining, Mr. Darcy?”
“No, Mrs. Darcy, and I am doing my best not to allow that to ever happen.”
“You had an excellent start in our marriage; I must say,” she laughed with her lips and eyes.
Elizabeth heard the sound of the wind on the window and looked up with curiosity.
“It is snowing! How beautiful!” she exclaimed.
“I suspected you would be pleased.”
“I am always pleased when I am with you. The snow only adds to the enchantment of the outdoors. Indoors, I have been long charmed by you, sir!” she teased him, caressing his face.
Her mere touch stirred his blood, and he was tempted to take her in his arms and love her again but he fought his urge, scolding himself for not showing enough self-restraint when it came to Elizabeth.
He did not doubt that she enjoyed their lovemaking as much as he did, and often she initiated their interludes.
He was always careful of her desires more than of his and what gave him the greatest pleasure was to witness her delight, her fulfilment.
Yet, he wondered if it was normal for a gentleman to impose himself on his wife so often.
As a man of the world, with enough experience in his eight and twenty years, he knew enough of women’s desires.
What surprised him was how different his sensations were when he was with Elizabeth, compared with any other woman he had ever met.
“You are too kind to me, madam. Surely you must know that your arts and allurements have made me forget everything else.”
Lady Catherine’s words—and the moment when they had been spoken—returned to Elizabeth’s mind. She laughed, although as she recollected that particular moment, it still brought with it all her distress and her fears that she might never see Darcy again.
“I hope you have no cause to repine, sir,” she replied, her arms circling his neck.
“None whatsoever, madam.”
“I am glad to hear that. Speaking of Lady Catherine, have you heard any news from her since she left town?”
“Not much. Anne wrote to Georgiana once, I assume without Aunt Catherine’s knowledge.”
“Charlotte wrote to me too. She complained that Lady Catherine had been even harder to please lately and that the notion had devastated Mr. Collins, who spent most of his time attending to her orders. Charlotte seemed to be bearing the situation rather well, however.”
“I can easily imagine that,” Darcy said, embracing his wife and tantalising her earlobe as he whispered to her. He felt her shiver in his arms, then she leaned back against the pillows and pulled him towards her. The fire was burning steadily in the grate, and the wind battered the windows.
“Breakfast should be ready soon,” he said, already engaged in a passionate kiss.
“I hope nobody is starving in this house. Not for food, I mean…”
“You must know best since you are responsible for the household, Mrs. Darcy.”
He was lying upon her, and her legs encircled him, leaving no doubts that her desires matched his and they both suffered from the same hunger.
He had no objections, as he had long promised he would by no means suspend any pleasure of hers. Breakfast, along with the rest of the world, could wait a little longer.