Chapter 2.1
Happiness. That was the foremost word that occupied Elizabeth’s mind—a full, complete, overwhelming, heart-melting happiness that kept her awake in the middle of the night and made her soul fly around the beautifully furnished room.
My apartment. She was now Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, the most fortunate woman in the world, married to the man who taught her the meaning of love, passion, and felicity.
The man was sleeping soundly, his arms circled around her. She was tired too, but her body still shivered in the delight of their lovemaking while her soul burst with joy. She was too happy to feel her tiredness and too tired to sleep.
Their shared passion kept them awake for most of the night. It was almost dawn, but her eyes refused to close as her mind, body, and heart wondered at the reality of everything she had discovered and felt since she had fallen in love with him.
She could hardly believe that only three months had passed since that cold, rainy day they spent in a small cottage—three months that changed her life as she never could have imagined.
Our love. It was more than she imagined, more than she ever dreamt. And this was only the first day—the first night—of their marriage. They had a lifetime to love each other. And yes, they would be—no doubt—the happiest couple in the world; she was certain they already were.
Elizabeth touched his cheeks and whispered “my husband,” staring at him a few moments. Then she slowly left the silky sheets of the bed, and immediately her bare feet felt icy. She smiled as she tiptoed toward the window. It was snowing steadily, and the wind shook the windows.
She returned to the bed and sat on its edge.
Her eyes caressed his face, and her fingers gently brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
He looked younger while he slept profoundly.
As her tender gaze rested on his lips, her skin burned then shivered as she remembered their soft, warm, maddening touch.
He was her husband—Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, the man whom she once believed to be aloof, haughty, insensitive to the feelings of others, selfish, and unfair. Called her barely tolerable and refused to dance with her—she laughed in recollection.
The man who proved her first impression of him to be completely wrong had filled her soul with joy and bliss.
She always hoped and prayed to marry a man she could love and respect—and be happy with—but only now did she realise how little understanding she had of “felicity in marriage” until that night.
Despite the steadily burning fire, her feet felt frozen. She tried to slowly glide under the sheets without disturbing him, but she failed.
“Elizabeth? What is wrong, my love? Are you unwell?”
Her eyes and lips smiled at her husband. “Do I look unwell, sir?”
Darcy kissed her eyelashes, and his arms closed around her, remembering they had had the same conversation a few hours earlier. “No, you do not. But why do you not sleep?”
Her feet—as well as her entire body—suddenly warmed in his embrace.
“I am too happy.”
His gaze deepened into her eyes—moist with tears of joy—and his lips rested on her temples then brushed over her bright smile.
“I cannot tell you how much I love you, my beautiful Elizabeth. And how happy I am.”
“You need not tell me, my dearest. You have showed me enough.”
“And it is only the first day and the first night of our marriage. I have a lifetime to show you my love, Mrs Darcy,” he answered, and she marvelled again that he could actually read her thoughts.
The wind shook the windows again, and its sound made Elizabeth shiver.
She cuddled to her husband’s chest, feeling warm and safe, briefly wondering whether it was equally cold at Longbourn and what her family was doing.
She also wondered whether their relatives had arrived safely, with her aunt taking care of four children and Georgiana not fully recovered from her injury.
“I shall send an express to Bingley tomorrow. Perhaps you would like to write to Jane,” Darcy said while he briefly kissed her hair.
“Yes—I will do so first thing in the morning.” She smiled to herself; once again, they had thought of the same thing.
“And, although we decided to neither attend nor accept any visit, we could briefly call on your aunt and mine—just to be certain everyone is safe. Very briefly…”
“I would like that very much. You always know what I want…always…”
“It is my pleasure to at least try to guess your desires, Mrs Darcy.”
She sighed, and her fingers entwined with his while his arms tightened around her. She slowly allowed sleep to envelop her, being more certain than ever that her husband was truly a mind reader. Her “mind reader”—as he had said a few days before.
∞∞∞
Elizabeth woke up under a sweet, silky caress, and she opened her eyes, gasping in disbelief. Her husband was gently touching her face with a stunning red rose, no doubt part of the beautiful bouquet waiting on her cabinet.
She remembered the first time he sent her roses: it was the second day of their engagement, just as this was the second day of their marriage.
“Thank you,” she said, tears dancing in her eyes. “This is such a wonderful surprise!”
He embraced her tightly and placed a tender kiss on her temple.
“You are welcome, my love.”
“But when did you have time to purchase it? Have you been awake for so long? Is it so late?”
“It is almost noon; I am glad you rested longer. I woke early because—as you said last night—I was too happy to sleep.”
Elizabeth’s head leant on his shoulder while Darcy continued, caressing her hair. “I sent short notes to our relatives to announce our calls. As for the flowers—I confess I ordered them before we departed for Longbourn, and they were delivered as scheduled. I do not deserve much credit.”
Elizabeth smiled and caressed his face. “Of course, you do.” She closed her arms around his neck, and he kissed her. In his embrace, the sheet fell from around her, exposing her silky skin to passionate caresses.
“I will go to the library until you get dressed, or you will be unable to leave the room today,” he managed to whisper, struggling to withdraw from her.
Elizabeth chuckled while he carefully put the sheets around her and hastily pressed his lips to her bare shoulder then spoke warmly against her ear. “I eagerly expect to return home and to remain alone for at least a week.”
“As do I.” She covered herself tighter as her husband left and Molly entered.
∞∞∞
The Darcys chose to have a late breakfast downstairs as propriety required.
The servants’ obvious efforts to please the mistress were rewarded by Elizabeth’s warm smile.
She was not a stranger to them as they were not strangers to her—and yet, her position as Mrs Darcy and the presence of the master added more solemnity to the staff’s behaviour.
The master’s anger following Lady Catherine’s impromptu visit and her fight with Elizabeth was something that none of the servants was likely to easily forget, and their decision never to repeat the error was as strong as ever.
Fortunately, the master and the mistress appeared to be content—and so was their staff.
Elizabeth’s smile never ceased, and the expression of utter delight on her face brightened the entire room. Mrs Hamilton, the housekeeper, admitted to herself that she had never seen the master looking more pleased—nor more handsome—in the fifteen years she had known him.
After breakfast, they retired to the library to write the necessary letters.
While Elizabeth was diligent, paying attention to the paper in front of her, she barely contained her laughter as she felt Darcy’s stare burning her face. She finally raised her eyes to him.
“Sir, have you already finished?”
“Not at all. I barely started.”
“Then may I ask why you look at me so intently? Is there something wrong? Do you disapprove of anything in me?” she teased him.
“Madam, you cannot possibly still presume that I disapprove of anything about you. In fact, you should know by now that I look at you because I heartily approve of everything.”
She laughed, and he abandoned his chair, moving to her, then sat and pulled her into his arms. Her hands found their way around his neck while his stare lowered to her lips.
“Do you remember when I told you that, once we are married, I would not have to be worried about your lips being swollen from my kisses?”
“Of course, I remember.” She blushed while his hands tenderly stroked her back.
“Well, sadly, I still have to worry about that since we will visit our relatives soon,” he said, hastily kissed her, and then resumed his proper seat.
Elizabeth’s amused gaze followed him. A moment later she stepped toward him and daringly sat on his lap, their faces only inches apart.
“Luckily, I can blame the cold wind for any inconvenience regarding my lips,” she whispered against his ear then gently placed countless small kisses on his face, the line of his jaw, then closer to his mouth, which hungrily captured hers.
Never did a letter require such a long time to be written and sent, nor did Darcy loathe more the prospect of a visit to his relatives.
He wished nothing but to be alone with her and desired nothing but to love her again and again.
He knew he had to show more patience at the beginning of their married life, as he was well aware of the discomfort Elizabeth had felt the previous night.
But he was also well aware of the pleasure she learnt and of her own passion and willingness to share their love—and that made his restraint more difficult.
Yes—the best solution was a visit to their relatives through wintry weather.
This way the day would pass sooner and the evening would come and…
they could be together alone again without his being too demanding and too impatient.
Therefore, in the early afternoon as soon as the letters to Hertfordshire were finished, Mr and Mrs Darcy went to pay their first visits as a married couple.