A Most Civil Proposal (40 page)

Mrs. Reynolds smiled to note that Mr. Darcy did not even bother with the pretence of escorting his wife to her own chambers while he went to his own. Then, though the bedroom door was quite heavy, the three women heard the sound of Elizabeth’s gay laughter and the master’s answering merriment. They all tried to hide their smiles, for they had heard tales of the impulsiveness of Darcy’s good father, and it appeared his son was cut from the same cloth.

“Please inform the staff that the master is not to be disturbed until he rings,” said Mrs. Reynolds, struggling to contain her smile. Certainly, the master and his wife were on the most friendly terms just as Mrs. Taylor had intimated in her discreet letter.

“Yes, ma’am,” chorused the giggling maids.

“And no tales!” cautioned Mrs. Reynolds, and the two maids quickly gave their agreement before they departed.

“Though much good it will do,” said Mrs. Reynolds softly to herself, allowing herself to show a broad smile of contentment for the first time. It was
good
to have the master home and so well settled!

* * * * *

When Elizabeth awoke, the room was dim, and a quick glance outside showed that the sun was nearly at the horizon. Quickly, she shook Darcy awake. “William, we have overslept. It is almost dusk.”

Darcy rubbed the sleep from his eyes and smiled up at her. “There is no rush, Elizabeth.” He reached out his arms for her, and she allowed herself to be drawn back down to his embrace.

She snuggled comfortably into his side. “It shall be as you wish, Master of Pemberley. However, I
do
seem to remember that you told your sister that we would dine at six o’clock, and it
is
rather past that time.”

Darcy’s eyes opened wide at that, and his only comment was, “Oh.” After a few minutes, he sighed. “Well, there is nothing for it, dearest. We shall have to hurry and dress for dinner.”

After another few minutes, they reluctantly arose and adjourned to their separate rooms. Quickly, Darcy summoned Jennings, and Elizabeth rang for Sarah with the result that they were descending the stairs in little over a half-hour.

They found Georgiana in the library engrossed in a book, and the three of them went to the small family dining room with a small table sized perfectly for their party. Within moments of their seating themselves, the servants began to bring out the steaming bowls of soup.

“What were you reading?” asked Darcy.

“Shakespeare,” she replied. “‘Julius Caesar.’”

Darcy raised his eyebrows in surprise. “I thought that you preferred the Comedies.”

“I do. But I had the opportunity to see ‘Julius Caesar’ while I stayed with my aunt and uncle, and I was interested in actually reading the play. Especially since I had so much time available with nothing to do,” she said innocently, her eyes on her soup.

Darcy looked at her sharply, but he was not able to read her expression. “Well,” he said hesitantly, “I am sorry about making you wait, Sweetling. I quite lost track of time.”

“I daresay,” Georgiana said in the same tone as before. “But I truly expected no different, given the
impulsiveness
of the Darcy family.”

Darcy was immediately seized by a fit of coughing, choking on his soup when he swallowed convulsively at her unexpected tartness.

“Georgiana, you must not sport with your brother like that,” admonished Elizabeth dryly as Darcy took a sip of wine to clear his throat. “I am too newly married a wife to become a widow!” Georgiana was completely unaffected by her comment, wearing a wide smile at her success in discomfiting her brother.

“Have you been giving my sister lessons in impertinence, Mrs. Darcy,” he said accusingly, though the sharpness of his question was belied by the smile on his face.

“I have not, Mr. Darcy,” responded Elizabeth gaily, “I daresay she has a natural talent for it!” Both ladies laughed in delight as Darcy tried to assume his stony visage, but he quickly desisted and joined them. In truth, he was mightily encouraged that Georgiana seemed to be emerging from the shell she had retreated into after last summer — even if it meant that he might be the recipient of such jibes from the two dearest individuals in his life.

Chapter 28

Monday, July 6, 1812

Elizabeth opened her eyes sleepily to see the light of dawn just beginning to filter through the curtains. She felt her husband behind her and she nestled against him, her back to his front, holding his free hand with both of hers, clasping it to her bare breast in the way that she found so comforting and secure.

She dreamily faded back into a half-sleep, thinking about the previous evening, and she knew her nightgown was somewhere on the floor of the bedroom. She smiled as she remembered the almost boyish glee that he seemed to derive from peeling it off and lofting it out into the darkness. She would have to keep a warm robe near to the bed once winter came. But how pleasant it was to lie there in William’s arms, right where she was, and to be held in such a way. She was truly contented with her life as his wife — more content than she had ever dreamed to be.

As Elizabeth continued to drowsily think on how happy she had become over the past weeks, of how confident she was of William’s love, of her pleasure in their conversations and walks, a realisation penetrated to her consciousness that what she felt was more than contentment — much, much more. She opened her eyes completely now, suddenly wide-awake as she searched thoughts and emotions that she had only become aware of in her dreamy state. At that moment, Elizabeth clearly saw what had been murky before, and she realized that she was happier than she had ever been in her life. She clutched his hand fiercely as she suddenly, with a flash of insight, understood that what she felt was
love.
She knew now — not just suspected but absolutely knew — that she had fallen completely in love with her husband. It had occurred so gradually that she had not seen the change, wrongly putting down her feelings to comfort and contentment and affection. She had been unaware of it until that very moment!

Elizabeth twisted around, feeling a sudden stab of emotion in her heart as she looked at William’s handsome, well-known, and yet somehow freshly new features. The sudden realization of how very dear he was to her was almost frightening in its intensity. As she inspected the face that had become so familiar to her in the past weeks, she thought back on the twisted road that had led to that moment. When she considered the many obstacles that could have caused them to lose their way, she was deeply thankful to have successfully arrived at such a state.

She could not restrain herself, for the surging in her chest was completely new to her.

“Wake up, William,” she said, putting her hand to his cheek.

Darcy’s eyes opened to find her face close to his own, and he smiled at her tenderly. “Good morning.”

Elizabeth put both of her hands on his cheeks and said intently, “I could not wait for you to wake up, dearest. I want you to know that I
love
you.”

Darcy smiled and pulled her close. “I know,” he said softly into her ear.

Elizabeth sat up suddenly, only to be pulled back down by his strong arms. “What do you mean, you know?” she said in confusion. “I did not know myself until just a few minutes ago! How could you know?”

Darcy’s smile grew, and he kissed her forehead tenderly. “Because you talk in your sleep.”

“I do not talk in my sleep!” Elizabeth said firmly, but Darcy just continued to smile at her.

Eventually, she whispered, “I do?”

“Yes, dearest Elizabeth,” Darcy said softly. “For weeks now, usually in the hours just before dawn, I have awakened to hear you murmuring things like, “I love you, William,” or “Yes, love, yes,” or “Love me, William.”

Elizabeth blushed as she realized that she must have been dreaming of their lovemaking, but her discomposure only made Darcy kiss her again.

“Then I should make myself perfectly clear,” Elizabeth persisted, breaking off the kiss. “Now that I am awake and finally know myself. I do love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy, and it has made me the happiest woman in the world to be your wife.”

Darcy smiled as the last piece to the puzzle of his own happiness snapped into place, and he kissed her tenderly. “I would have waited a lifetime to hear those words, Elizabeth, and, as gratified as I have been, I am now the happiest man in the world to be your husband.”

Then Elizabeth grinned wickedly. “Then, since you have heard these words before, let me repeat them.” She looked deeply into his dark eyes. “Love me, William. Love me and make me your wife in every last particular.”

“Your wish is my command, dearest,” he said, as his hand moved to her bottom and pulled her hips firmly against his while his other hand went to the back of her neck.

As his lips touched hers, Elizabeth almost gasped at the heat. It had to be her imagination, but his lips seemed almost on fire as he kissed her. Her passion was fuelled by the emotions surging through her, and she kissed him back fiercely, her tongue reaching deeply into his mouth to dance against his own. She arched herself against him, trying to force her bare skin inside his own in the strength of her need to bring him close to her, and Darcy felt a sharp pain as her fingernails dug into his back.

Their lovemaking was as fierce as her surging passions. Elizabeth lowered her head to Darcy’s chest and her teeth delicately nipped at his flesh to send sharp thrills through him. She clutched him with her small hands in the way she knew he loved, bringing him to an arousal that matched her own before her hands moved to his hips so that he felt her fingernails again sinking into his skin as she urgently pulled him against her. She did not need any preparation; her only desire was to feel him inside her, and she writhed as she begged him, “Please, William . . . please, I need you . . . oh, hurry, darling . . . please hurry . . . ”

As he finally entered her, Elizabeth arched herself to meet him, her hands urging him to penetrate her deeper. She opened herself fully for him, her legs capturing his as he moved inside her, and her legs joined her hands in signalling her desire for him to move faster and deeper. He was caught in her need, and surrendered to a rhythm as old as humanity and as new as the morning. Elizabeth gasped as she pulled him down to her so that her sharp little teeth could nibble at his ear lobe: “Oh, yes, dearest . . . oh, my love, do not stop . . . William . . . oh, William, oh, William . . . yeeeessss!!”

Darcy’s mouth smothered her cries as she was wracked by a wave of pleasure and fulfilment almost too intense to bear. She shuddered and quivered as Darcy continued his rhythm, and he brought her to another crest of pleasure even as he reached his own. She pulled him downward against her as she arched upward toward him, and the blissfulness of completion was an emotional sweetness as intense as her physical release.

Darcy was sweating from the exertion, but Elizabeth was gasping and slippery from an even greater effort, continuing to stroke him from his shoulders to his bottom while she murmured endearments into his ear. He felt her need to atone for the weeks past, and he knew that she did not want him to move from atop her. Despite his instinctive wish to take his weight off her, he had learned that she desired that feeling in the aftermath of their lovemaking.
Especially such an occasion as this,
he thought.

At length, Elizabeth allowed him to roll off her and tuck her into his side. She was still murmuring as she fell into a deep sleep. She was, at last, truly and completely, Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy.

She slept.

* * * * *

It was late when Darcy and Elizabeth finally arose, for Elizabeth was insatiable that morning, and it was well after noon before they finally left their room. Georgiana came upon them in the hallway at the bottom of the stairs, Elizabeth’s arm tucked through her brother’s and both of them laughing softly at a shared moment. She halted at the look of radiance that her brother and his wife wore. They had always appeared comfortable with each other, but this morning was . . . different. But their eyes lit up when they saw her, and they were quickly upon her, clasping her arms and sweeping her down the hall, almost dragging her along with them as they laughed gaily. Georgiana’s heart swelled at the growing love between her brother and Elizabeth. It made her only more firm in her resolve that she would settle for nothing less.

Chapter 29

Wednesday, July 29, 1812

Elizabeth hummed as she knocked on the door to Darcy’s study. He gave her a quick smile before returning to work while she sat in what had become her chair beside his desk, where she often helped him sort through and arrange the mountains of correspondence he received. She never could have imagined the range of matters that claimed his attention, from letters on estate business and tenant issues to social letters that could either be invitations to social events or correspondence from friends such as Bingley — though that gentleman, never the best of correspondents, had gone simply silent since marrying Jane.

Elizabeth was not offended by the scratching of Darcy’s pen as he concentrated on his letter. She had learned during the three months of their marriage how disciplined her husband was in the discharge of his duties. So she sat quietly beside his desk while he finished, enjoying his look of intense absorption.
It is so typical of him,
she thought fondly,
to throw his total concentration into whatever he does
.