Chapter Eleven #2
“I would, and you know I would kill him. Let us avoid that possibility altogether.”
She came off the bed, sliding across the floor. Her arm wound up around his neck, fingers twirling the gathered hair at the nape.
“Just kiss me once more, then.”
He pulled her hand away. “No. Do you think me a fool, witch? Do you think I trust you? You have enchanted yourself or you would never appear so unnaturally beautiful. Your kisses are a thousand times more dangerous than your words.”
Her eyes narrowed. “I shall have you again.”
“You will not and that, my lady, is a very solemn vow.”
He pushed her back, and the witch smirked before he quit the room.
* * *
“It is done.” Darcy tightened the belt on his robe as he came into the bedchamber from his dressing room.
Elizabeth glanced up from the stockings she was darning and raised an eyebrow. “Good,” she replied, and made another stitch.
He picked up a book and took the seat next to hers in front the fire.
He opened the volume, stared at the pages for a bit, then slammed it closed, sighing heavily.
Reading would not help. His wife remained silent, still repairing the stocking.
He tried to read again but could not focus his concentration, so he tossed the book onto the table between their seats and glowered at the fire.
“Tell me,” she said in a whisper.
“Tell you what?”
“What you need to tell me.”
“I am frustrated with how she assumed she could waltz in here and expect me to bed her as though nothing had changed.”
“In all likelihood, she assumed naught had changed. Once you merely wanted me. When we married you did not love me. Why should she anticipate such an alteration? You yourself did not have such expectations.”
He stared hard at the blazing hearth. She was right, of course, but that did not mean he had to like the truth.
Now, it had become difficult for him to imagine a time when he had not loved her.
He liked to pretend that his love had commenced the moment he had seen her, but he deep in his heart, he had to accept that it simply was not the case.
Still, it did not sit well with him that Caroline presumed she could reclaim her place in his bed.
“I did not expect to love you, but I do, yet that is not even the point. I am still a married man.”
“Be honest, William. Did you think you would be faithful to me? When we married did you not think you would maintain your stable of fresh fillies and fuck me when it was necessary for an heir? We both expected that.”
He was silent for a long time while Elizabeth continued to work on the stocking.
Out of the corner of his eye, he kept a watch on her, amazed at her perception, her unvarnished honesty, and her unflinching acceptance of whom he had been.
Should he not just tell her how he had come to have her hand?
Maybe she would accept the realities and forgive him.
Perhaps she cared for him enough to understand.
Of course! He should have realized the truth before.
Only with a woman who loved him could he be forgiven. What a difficult reality.
“It has been a long day. Goodnight,” he muttered, standing. He stripped away his robe and tossed it on the chair as he made his way to bed. He climbed in and pulled the blankets up high so he could forget the world and all that had had been flung at him.
* * *
She waited, each stitch measuring out time until enough had passed.
They still had words that needed to be said, but they would wait until another time.
Neither of them was in the mood to delve into the past and discover truths they were not prepared to learn.
Dealings between William and Lady Caroline were not as simple as he had painted them to be, but Elizabeth had to let the past go in order to help him seek comfort.
For her own comfort as well as his, she must do so. Her own heart convinced her.
Finally, the stocking was complete, and she went to bed.
He did not seem to notice her presence as she settled in: his eyes remained closed, and he laid still on his back.
Shifting to her side, she wrapped her arm around his body.
His warmth flooded over her, but she suppressed the pleasant sigh the position called forth.
“Will you not hold me?” she asked, her voice soft and steady, though her insides trembled.
Without words, William turned and put his arms around her so they were settled face to face.
“Pray look at me.” Her command was obeyed without delay. “What is wrong?”
“I am shamed.” He choked out the words after a long, painful silence.
“Why?”
“How can I touch you? How can you want me to touch you when you know what you know?”
“It is your past. I cannot keep reminding you, William. Let the past be. Lady Caroline means nothing to you. Therefore, she means nothing to me. This is a very simple equation, my dear husband.
“You have asked me not to be ashamed of what goes on within these walls, or upon this bed, and I am not. I shall ask you now, once and for all, to think no more upon the women who came before me. As long as none will occur while we are wed, all shall be well.”
“You are incredible.”
“You suffer from a vile illusion, my lord. I am no more incredible than any other woman who must reassure a man of his place in her life.”
“Elizabeth,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead.
“Hush, my William, for it has been a long day, and tomorrow is bound to be longer by many more hours. We both need rest to contend with the Bingleys, though I think you may very well have an easier go of it.”
He smiled at her. She smiled back, falling in love with him more easily because of the beauty of that often-misplaced expression.
His face was so warm, so soft when he smiled.
Perhaps she would have fallen in love with him at first glance if he had done just that, but she could not know for certain.
His smile, his real smile, gave the impression that his deepest feelings could not help but touch his eyes and slay the cold beast that usually resided there.
“I do love your smile.” Her thumb traced his mouth.
“Do you?”
“I do. You are beyond handsome as you are, but when you smile you steal my breath away. I suppose I like to imagine that special smile belongs to me and me alone.”
“I smile in public,” he said in protest.
“My lord, your smile upon being presented with gifts of state or a newborn noble is hardly the same. I prefer to think of those expressions more like grimaces of grace. You pull your mouth from your teeth to be deemed polite, but here, your real smile warms the whole of your face and sets your eyes to blaze. I find the aspect magnificent.”
“Are there any other things you love?”
Aye! A thousand now and more each day! Tears prickled the backs of her eyes. She should tell him now that she loved him. He certainly needed to hear it, but her pride would not let her quite yet.
“Your arms. They are superb for holding me. Your chest. Every man's chest should be as solid as yours. Your hair, which almost rivals mine in beauty.”
He laughed outright, and she was attuned to every vibration.
Slowly, the mirth began to build, and soon, they were both trapped in a fit of hysterical laughter.
Tears sprang to their eyes, their chests heaved, and they pawed at each other when William made an attempt to tickle her.
Finally, the fit subsided and, as they struggled to catch their breaths, William pulled her close again. Was it possible to be more contented?
“I love the way you smell. So clean, like lemons and summer sunshine. I love the way you speak the truth to me without flinching. You are the most reliable of all my advisers and, honestly, more underused than you should be. I apologize for that.
“I love the way your nose crinkles when you find a matter distasteful. You do not even know you are doing so.”
Her face would crack if she grinned any wider.
“The way you say my name. Papa has never used my whole name, but you have never called me 'Eliza.
' The situation is like I am two people, equally loved though in wholly separate ways. Eliza belongs to Longbourn and the House of Bennet; Elizabeth is solely yours.”
“High Lady Elizabeth Darcy, Princess of Pemberley, is solely mine.”
“Aye,” Elizabeth whispered in wonderment. “She is.”
“The fact that people light up when they see you.”
“How you look in or out of clothes.”
“I have never seen more beautiful breasts.”
“I love how your hair curls when damp.”
“When I see you with a babe, I cannot help but wonder what our children will look like,” he said.
“How you look forward to the day we have children.”
“The fact that you appreciate pretty lies.”
She smiled, kissed him, and settled back onto her pillow. “I love that you need me and are not afraid of the feeling.”
“I love you. Everything. From this fire-streaked hair to the tips of your toes and all that lies between, including your warm heart and shining soul.”
Tears seeped into her eyes. “You are beginning to sound like a poet yourself there, my William. Alas, I know the words you speak are nothing but a gorgeous truth. One day, there will be nothing but gorgeous truth for us. I sincerely hope we shall recognise it when the truth appears to us.”
“Trust, my sweet, that the moment you utter any gorgeous truth in my direction, I shall not merely see its beauty, but revel in the veracity and sing its song far into the reaches of the North. I live for that moment.”