Chapter 37 #3
“My father,” Darcy replied as furiously, “would recognise I am a grown man and not some errant schoolboy! He would respect my choice! He would welcome Miss Bennet to his family and embrace her as his daughter and see you thrown from his house!”
“George Darcy would do nothing of the sort! I became his brother when he married your mother! I have had admittance to Pemberley before you were even a glimmer in your father’s eye!”
“As of today, you shall no longer have that privilege.” Darcy stalked to the bell pull and gave it a savage tug.
“I am Pemberley’s master. Miss Bennet will soon become its mistress.
You have persisted in disparaging and insulting us both and interfering with my personal affairs to a reprehensible degree.
I will not tolerate your disrespect, either at Pemberley or in town.
Should we meet again, I shall not acknowledge you.
“I strongly suggest you also rethink your philosophy regarding women and their worth. No woman enjoys being belittled, dismissed, and ignored. No woman enjoys knowing her husband has sought the favours of other women. She enjoys it even less when those women are her friends.”
The earl’s countenance turned an alarming shade of crimson. “You dare presume to lecture me on how to handle women? How many have you known in your lifetime? How many have you bedded!”
Disgusted, Darcy strode to the door. He yanked it open to find his man White flanked by a veritable army of liveried footmen.
Darcy was too angry to be impressed by his foresight. “See to it that his lordship is escorted to his carriage without delay. He has pressing business that will prevent him from returning to Pemberley for the foreseeable future.”
“Very good, sir. This way if you please, my lord.”
Surrounded by no less than a dozen men, the earl glared at his nephew. “There will come a day when you shall regret disregarding my counsel, Darcy. There will come a day when you shall regret your choice!”
“Speaking it will not make it true.” He nodded to White, who in turn signalled the two largest footmen.
Lord Carlisle appeared close to suffering an apoplectic fit. “Lay so much as a finger on me,” he threatened, “and I will see you hanged from the gallows!” He spun on his heels and stalked from the room, slamming the door behind him.
“What a shame,” murmured the countess that evening as she sat beside Darcy in the music room examining the lace on her gloves.
“To think Henry came all the way from London and I missed him! Perhaps next time he will think before he speaks…or travels three days in a carriage on a fool’s errand.
Then again, he is an old dog. To think he can learn to behave any better at this point would go against the laws of nature.
” Smiling affectionately, she patted Darcy’s arm.
“I am glad you are getting married tomorrow, Nephew. Unlike your uncle, you show all the promise of being a good husband. Trust me, your wife shall thank you for it, and thank you well.”
Beside her, Mrs Lawrence concurred. She uttered some nonsense about lovemaking and sea bathing to Lady Carlisle and both ladies erupted into girlish laughter.
Darcy rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Elizabeth and Georgiana, charmingly situated at the pianoforte playing a duet.
Tomorrow the two would become sisters. The thought of Elizabeth, whom he had loved for so long, becoming his wife filled Darcy with such anticipation he could barely sit still.
To distract himself, he looked around the room, where he saw Bennets and Bingleys and Gardiners and Fitzwilliams seated upon his couches and chairs.
There were smiles on their faces, and laughter on their lips.
There were murmured conversations, and the delighted voices of Robert and Emily Gardiner, who had been granted the rare treat of remaining with the rest of the family past their bedtime.
Filling Pemberley with children—Elizabeth’s children—was Darcy’s dearest wish after marrying her in Pemberley’s chapel.
His eyes, as they often did, returned to her. She looked lovely; she always looked lovely. Darcy ached to go to her, to touch her and kiss her and tell her how very happy she had made him by agreeing to become his wife.
As though she had discerned his thoughts, Elizabeth chose that moment to look up from the pianoforte, where her fingers were moving with a practiced ease along the keys.
Their eyes met, and they shared a private moment from across the room, one of many they would undoubtedly share over the course of their life together.
Darcy’s heart swelled with love for her.
Tomorrow could not come soon enough.
“Have I told you,” Darcy murmured in her ear, “how beautiful you look this evening, Mrs Darcy?” They were man and wife and had been so for most of the day. Darcy could barely contain his smile.
“You are off to a fine start,” said his wife as her fingers toyed with his impeccably tied cravat. “I do not believe I have ever received so many compliments from you before. Take care, Mr Darcy, or my vanity shall soon grow accustomed to it.”
“Elizabeth,” he said, drawing a tremulous breath as her fingertips grazed his jaw, then his ear. “You are driving me mad. Please let me kiss you.”
They were ensconced in a curtained alcove not ten feet from the dining room, where their relations—fifteen in total, save for the children—were enjoying a repast of cold meats, seasonal fruits, cheeses, pies, and cakes.
Laughter spilled from the room and carried through the hall—Georgiana’s and Anne’s as boisterous and merry as any of the Bennets’.
Elizabeth wound her arms around Darcy’s neck and stood on the tips of her toes. “You need not ask my permission, Husband. After all, I did promise just this morning to obey you.”
Darcy’s eyelids fluttered closed as she pressed a soft, teasing kiss to the corner of his mouth, his jaw, and his ear.
His hands slid from her waist to the swell of her hips.
Her body, so perfectly situated against his own, warmed him in ways he dared not consider at present.
“You are quite right,” he murmured. “From now on, I shall employ my time much better.”
This kiss was not their first as man and wife, but it was by far their most passionate.
All day long they had snuck off to out-of-the-way places—deserted halls and unused rooms. Darcy was growing frustrated with having to steal kisses from his wife in his own house.
What he wanted was to sweep her into his arms, carry her upstairs, and take her to bed.
The Chippendale clock in the foyer struck nine o’clock.
“Come with me,” he whispered hoarsely against her lips. He grasped her hand tightly and tugged her towards the staircase in a haze of desire.
Elizabeth glanced self-consciously around the foyer as they crossed it with alacrity. “Fitzwilliam, we have guests.”
He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. “They will still be here tomorrow when we break our fast.”
“Surely, we cannot abandon them,” she said with an incredulous laugh. “Whatever will they think?”
At the foot of the grand staircase, he stopped and turned to look at her.
Wrapped in dove-grey silk and adorned with pearls, she took his breath away.
In the candlelight, her skin looked almost luminous.
Her eyes sparkled. Her hair was arranged in an elaborate style his fingers itched to take down.
Darcy had never seen her looking more beautiful.
Unlike their clandestine meeting in the back hall of the Meryton assembly rooms nearly two months ago, there was no pang of desperation within him; there was no uncertainty.
Now he felt all the satisfaction of knowing Elizabeth was finally his.
So many prejudices, misconceptions, and misunderstandings had come between them in the last twelve months, but one fateful April day had set them on a new course.
It had been the catalyst they needed to understand one another better.
Darcy’s affection, unswerving, faithful, and true, had been there almost from the beginning; it had taken much longer for Elizabeth’s dislike of him to take a more proper form and blossom into love.
Nearly overwhelmed by his love for her, Darcy closed the distance between them and gently, tenderly touched his forehead to hers. “They will think,” he told her with considerable emotion, “that I am ardently, passionately in love with my wife and never wish to be parted from her.”
Darcy heard Elizabeth’s breath catch and felt the gentle pressure of her hand upon his chest, just over his heart.
He felt the warmth of her body and inhaled her sweet, heady scent.
She was so close that not even a hairsbreadth remained between them.
If they were in his bedchamber, hidden away behind a locked door, he would peel her gown from her body and kiss her senseless.
He would touch her and taste her and worship her in every way a husband who is passionately, violently in love with his wife is wont to do.
A lump formed in his throat.
Elizabeth clasped his hand more tightly. One slender finger traced the gleaming gold band on the third finger of his left hand. “It is well, then,” she whispered feelingly, and encouraged him up the staircase with a kiss.
The End