Chapter 7 #3
Kitty nearly knocked Jane’s bouquet into the sauce. Mary quoted Saint Paul. My father drank little and observed much.
Darcy stayed near me.
Always.
His sleeve brushed mine. His knee sometimes touched mine under the table. Each contact was brief, but none was truly accidental.
When I turned my head toward him, his gaze was already on me.
“You’re watching me, Mr. Darcy.”
“I’m making sure you’re still here.”
All lightness disappeared from my response.
“I am here.”
His eyes darkened.
“Yes.”
He slipped his hand beneath the table, palm open between us.
I slipped mine into his.
We stayed that way while my mother recounted, for the third time, the arrival of her carriage at the church.
Married less than two hours.
Hand in hand as if we had waited a lifetime.
?
The time came to leave in the early afternoon.
Darcy’s carriage waited in the courtyard, trunks strapped to the back. The horses stamped in the cool air. Pale light lay over Longbourn, the garden, and the crookedly trimmed hedges.
I kissed my mother, who wept into my neck.
I kissed Kitty, then Mary.
My father placed a hand against my cheek.
“Be happy, Lizzy.”
“I already am.”
His gaze slid toward Darcy, who waited by the carriage.
“Yes,” he said. “I can see that.”
Jane came last.
We held each other without speaking.
She smelled of roses and rice powder. Her veil brushed my face.
“Write to me,” she murmured.
“Tonight.”
“You’ll be too busy.”
I drew back slightly.
Her cheeks flushed.
“Jane!”
She laughed through her tears.
“Tomorrow, then.”
I kissed her again.
Darcy approached and extended his hand.
The simple gesture nearly took my breath away. How many times had I longed for him to touch me without glancing around first?
I slipped my fingers into his.
He helped me up.
The door closed.
The coachman cracked the reins.
Longbourn began to fall away.
I watched my family through the rear window. My mother waved her handkerchief. Kitty was crying again. Mary stood straight beside the steps. My father held one hand raised.
Jane remained on Bingley's arm until the road turned.
Then the house disappeared behind the hedges.
I kept my eyes fixed on where it had stood.
A hand covered mine.
Darcy had taken the seat beside me rather than the one across.
His shoulder touched mine.
“Elizabeth.”
My name.
Without title. Without distance.
I turned toward him.
The face he showed the world had vanished. His eyes were dark, his breathing less steady than usual. He lifted our joined hands and pressed his lips to my fingers, just above the ring.
“My wife,” he murmured.
The warmth of his mouth sank through my skin.
“My husband.”
His gaze lifted to mine.
The carriage moved along the road to Meryton. The curtains trembled with each jolt. The outside world kept passing by, but in this enclosed space, only he existed.
Darcy brought his hand to my cheek.
This time, he didn't hesitate.
His thumb slid beneath my eye, where a tear had left a damp trace. Then his palm traveled slowly down my jaw.
“I've thought of this moment every day since you agreed to marry me.”
“Only every day?”
A breath like a laugh escaped his lips.
“Every hour.”
I looked at his mouth.
“They've finally passed.”
His hand slipped behind my neck.
He drew me toward him.
The first kiss was slow.
Almost solemn.
His lips met mine with a gentleness that made my heart ache. As if he still needed to convince himself I was truly there. That I was truly his.
I pressed a hand to his chest.
His heart beat fast beneath my glove.
I pressed my lips more firmly against his.
The kiss changed.
His restraint gave way in the same breath as mine. His hand tightened on my neck. The other found my waist and pulled me closer until the sapphire clinked against his waistcoat.
His mouth opened over mine.
The taste of tea and wedding wine. The warmth of his breath. The rustle of our clothes as I turned fully toward him.
I slipped my fingers beneath the edge of his collar.
Darcy let out a rough sound against my lips.
That sound kindled a deep warmth in my belly.
He kissed me again.
More slowly, then more deeply. As if he finally had the right to take his time yet no longer knew how.
The carriage hit a rut.
I tipped against him.
His arm closed around my waist, holding me pressed to his body.
We separated only to breathe.
His forehead stayed against mine.
“We're married,” I murmured.
“Yes.”
His thumb traced my lower lip.
“You are Mrs. Darcy.”
“And you still seem surprised.”
“I probably will be until Pemberley.”
I smiled.
He didn't smile.
He looked at the sapphire, my throat, then my mouth.
“Elizabeth…”
My name held a warning.
Or a promise.
I laid my hand on his cheek.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Then he kissed my palm.
The carriage continued north, carrying Elizabeth Bennet away from Longbourn.
But I didn’t feel like I was disappearing.
I was there.
In the arms of the man I loved, with his ring on my finger and his name now bound to mine.
And for the first time, the future didn’t feel like an unfamiliar house or a role I’d have to learn.
It felt like Darcy.
His hand around mine.
His mouth still warm on my lips.
The road opening before us.
Together.