Chapter Thirteen
WICKHAM EXPECTED THE MORROW WOULD brING HIM STRENGTH, BUT Mrs. Younge tended to his needs for some five days before he stirred for more than a few minutes.
Each time he woke in the shadow-filled room, he forced terror-filled dreams from his mind.
Darcy came close to discovering the key to ending Lady Ellender’s curse.
It was imperative he eliminate Darcy soon.
It was only a matter of time before his enemy realized how valuable the woman was to his cause.
She did not possess powers of her own, but the faith she held in Darcy’s powers made the man a formidable force.
Moreover, he suspected Elizabeth Bennet would determine Darcy’s fate.
In today’s dream, she had led Darcy to Wickham’s lair, and he and the man had fought.
In the nightmare, Darcy prepared to drive a stake through Wickham’s heart.
Wickham had awakened with a scream of horror.
“My lord?” Mrs.Younge tapped lightly on the door.
“Enter, Amelia.” He motioned the woman forward. “I appreciate your efforts on my behalf, my dear.” He took the woman’s hand and brought the back of it to his lips.
“I am pleased you are well, my lord.”
“You have served me faithfully.” Wickham finished dressing. He stood before the mirror. Only a wavy reflection—a blur of colors—appeared. It was a reflex action—a muscle memory—that even after all these years he had yet to abandon. It made him feel human.
“My lord,” Mrs. Younge said tentatively, “I have news.”
Wickham folded the cravat so it might be pinned. “Yes, Amelia? Speak.”
Mrs. Younge walked to the door and retrieved a newsprint she left upon a table. “This is today’s edition. I believe you should see it.”
Wickham snatched it. “What is it you deem so important?”
Mrs.Younge pointed to the third column. “There.”
Wickham’s sight adjusted quickly to the dim light. He read the first paragraph of an announcement:
Monday, 2 December, 1811, St. Blaise Church, London, celebrated the union of Fitzwilliam George Darcy of Darcy House and of Pemberley in Derbyshire to Elizabeth Victoria Bennet of Hertfordshire.
The news visibly shook him, and Wickham shoved the paper into Mrs. Younge’s hands. “Bloody hell! The woman will be my death!” He grabbed the paper again to search for his answer before he asked the question. “Does it say whether they left for the country?”
“It does not. Such would be from the ordinary.”
“I know where to find him. Darcy will retreat to his ancestral home, the same house where I have stalked every other generation.” He threw the paper on the bed. “Join me for the day.”
“I will be happy to serve you, my lord.”
“We leave in a quarter hour.”
Sally tapped lightly on Elizabeth’s door before entering the room.
She waited, and hearing the Master bid her enter, the maid rushed into the room, only to find her mistress in Mr. Darcy’s arms in the bed.
“Beg–Begging your pardon, Sir,” she stammered, stunned to find her employer in his wife’s bed.
When Darcy heard the light tap, he knew what to expect. He had covered Elizabeth with the blanket before rolling her towards him. The maid discovered “the reality” they had created.
“Nonsense, Sally. It is commendable that you are so attentive to your new mistress.”
“I’ll return later, Sir.” She backed towards the door.
“Tell her to return in half an hour.” Their voices had awakened Elizabeth, and she snuggled into his chest.
“I believe you heard Mrs. Darcy.”
“I did, Sir. Yes, Sir.” The woman blushed with embarrassment.
However, before she could exit the room, Darcy called to her: “Sally, please lay out Mrs. Darcy’s riding habit, and tell Sheffield I will require similar attire. Then tell Thacker to have my horse and Ceres saddled.”
“Ceres?” Elizabeth was suddenly fully awake. “Ceres is here?”
“I sent for her yesterday. I paid your father ten pounds for his trouble. I meant to surprise you.”
“Thank you, my husband,” she said and spontaneously hugged him.
“Will that be all, Mr. Darcy?” The maid waited to be excused.
“Yes, Sally. We will ring when we are prepared to dress.”
“Yes, Sir.” She curtsied and was gone.
Surprise and happiness filled Elizabeth. “You did this for me?” she whispered. Her green eyes darkened in disbelief.
“You are my wife. I mean for you to be happy in this arrangement.”
“Where may we ride in the city?”
“Several parks hold riding trails, and as the Season is over, we will encounter only a few others. Once we travel to Pemberley, we will ride regularly. Such will provide me a chance to show you the entire estate.”
Elizabeth peppered his chin line with kisses. “You are the most charitable man. I cannot believe I ever once thought ill of you.”
Darcy rolled her to her back and loomed over her. “And when was that, Mrs. Darcy?”
“You know perfectly well when, Sir.” Elizabeth urged his mouth to hers. “When you thought me only ‘tolerable.’”
“I believe I tolerate you very well,” he said teasingly as he rained light, feathery kisses across her face.
Elizabeth instinctively wriggled her body against his, creating heat between them.
Darcy drank of her mouth. Her lips parted, and his tongue sought hers.
Elizabeth’s hands searched the muscles of his back before he caught her hands in his grip and raised them above her head.
His lips trailed a line down her neck. He loosened the strings tying her nightgown and pulled it from her, exposing the swell of her breasts.
His mouth followed his fingers down the crevice between her breasts.
Elizabeth’s moans encouraged his efforts, and Darcy cupped her breast in his palm before returning to plunder her mouth. Elizabeth arched into his touch.
His lips slid down the length of her neck, coming to rest on the spot he most desired.
He kissed it and licked the point. Gently, he sucked on the indentation and felt his arousal increase.
She made an inarticulate sound as he circled the spot, nipping the flesh.
Elizabeth tilted her head to the side and wrapped her arms around him.
Without realizing she did so, her body responded by grinding her hips into him, flooding Darcy with desire. “Please,” she begged.
Darcy’s reason fought for control, but he broke the kiss. “Oh, God, Elizabeth,” he moaned into her hair as he buried his face in shame.
“You did nothing wrong,” she assured him. “You did nothing more than what I wanted. Our actions are as much my fault as it is yours.”
“As the man, it is still my responsibility,” he asserted.
“We are attracted to each other. Is that terrible?” she argued. “Some marriages are purely for convenience.”
“If ours were a normal joining, our attraction would have miraculous appeal.” Darcy rolled away from her and prepared to stand.
Elizabeth turned back the blankets and followed him to her feet. “I will not, Mr. Darcy, regret the fact that I desire my husband’s touch nor that I wish to lie in his arms and know him intimately.” Her bottom lip trembled. “William, do you not realize how truly exceptional our connection is?”
Darcy spun to face her. “You have lived with this evil for a few weeks. I have known it all my life. Our perspectives are different.”
Tears misted her eyes. “It is time your perspective changed because you are no longer alone in this. You may have known this curse for eight and twenty years, but we will deal with it for many more than that number. The decisions are no longer yours alone to make.”
Darcy stared at her in disbelief. His authority was rarely questioned.
It struck him as amusing, and he laughed.
Softly, at first, and then loudly. He scooped her into his arms, and twirled her around as he let his head fall back in deep, room-filling laughter. “You, my lovely wife, are magnificent!”
His laughter was contagious. Her laughter joined his. She locked her hands behind his neck and pulled closer to him. “And you, my husband, are a conundrum.”
“Now on that fact we agree,” he said, still chuckling. “Let us begin our day.”
“Did we settle something?”
“We decided we would disagree,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“As long as we can agree to disagree,” she replied in what sounded of confusion. Offering him a full smile, Elizabeth added, “I am happy you see the situation my way.”
Darcy laughed again as he set her on her feet. “I did no such thing, and you know it well.”
“But I will use all my arts and allurements to win you over,” she warned.
“I will enjoy the battle.” Darcy reached for the bell cord to summon the servants.
“I will meet you downstairs for breakfast.” He left her standing in the middle of her room as he crossed to the adjoining dressing rooms. Reaching his suite, he waited patiently for Sheffield to attend Darcy’s needs.
He replayed the past few minutes, as well as their confrontation the previous evening.
Elizabeth was correct in one regard. He would protect her reputation as his wife.
The Darcy staff would soon know how Sally found him in Elizabeth’s bed.
By mid-afternoon, much of the neighborhood would be likewise informed.
Then a horrible thought struck him, and Darcy quickly returned to Elizabeth’s room.
She was just removing her nightgown, and under other circumstances he would have appreciated her sensual beauty.
His wife’s waist was small and her legs were elegantly curvaceous.
Elizabeth clasped the garment to her and gasped, “William!”
“My apologies, but we have only a moment.” He stood immobile, his thoughts distracted by his wife’s proximity. “The servants believe we spent our wedding night in that bed.” He gestured towards the rumpled bed linens.
“Yes?”
“They will assume you were no maiden.” He stumbled through his thoughts, which were divided by his need to hurry and his need to touch her.