Darcy's Passions (44 page)

Using the lavender oil she preferred for years, Elizabeth bathed slowly, tentative about what the next few hours would bring. Margaret helped her slip on her new nightgown and to brush out her hair. Earlier, when she freshened her clothing for dinner, she bubbled in conversation with the maid about the trip from Hertfordshire to London, but now she was silent, lost in thoughts of Darcy.

Like his wife, Darcy was more pensive than usual, but his calmness possessed an intensity he knew not before. Finishing his ablutions quickly, he entered Elizabeth's bedroom to wait for her. He lit several candles and took a seat facing the door to her dressing room; yet, the door opened before he could settle his nerves completely, and Elizabeth was framed in the backlight of her dressing room. He remembered her being framed in the doorway at Netherfield with boots and her petticoat covered in mud. He actually thought her lovely then; now she was beautiful. With the light behind her, Darcy could see her lilt body through the gown. They looked at each other entranced by the moment until she stepped slowly into the room, and the door closed behind her. Darcy could not stand to not be near her; he rose and crossed to where she stood.

His touch of her skin sent a shiver through Elizabeth's body; he cupped her chin as he lifted it to kiss her lips—the kiss warm and tender. She moved in closer encircling her arms around his waist, realizing she never saw him without his jacket, waistcoat, and boots, and then she instinctively slid her hands up under Darcy's shirt and up the muscles of his back. He trembled as he kissed her again while slowly pulling her closer to him and letting his hands rest on her hips. Their breathing became shallow as the kisses became more intense.

Darcy scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bed,
laying her gently back against the pillows. She shifted nervously as his gaze grew in its eagerness. Darcy lowered himself beside her and kissed her repeatedly, his hands searching her body beneath her gown as his lips moved down her neck. Elizabeth reached out and pulled him to her; she was his at last.

 

Languishing in each other's arms, Elizabeth snuggled into the curve of his shoulder and rested her arm across his chest. Darcy stroked her forearm with his hand and kissed the top of her head. “Elizabeth,” he began, but she reached up and placed her fingertips on his lips to stop his words.

“May I not be
Lizzy
again?” she teased.

Darcy laughed and pulled her closer to him. “Your name is Elizabeth Darcy, is it not?” He kissed her forehead as he hugged her tightly to him.

“I am Elizabeth Darcy, but your calling me
Lizzy
was very tantalizing.” She kissed him enticingly and stretched her leg across his body. “May I not convince you to call me
Lizzy
again?” Her hand slid across his chest and down his abdomen to his thigh.

“Lizzy,” he moaned in response to her touch; then he kissed her more impassioned than before.

 

This time they slept following their love, satisfied to be in each other's arms. When Elizabeth awoke, she turned to find Darcy propped up on one arm and looking down at her. Realizing her gown had long since been discarded, she blushed and reached for the sheet. Darcy caught her hand and held it in place.“In this bed, you have nothing of which to be ashamed.”

“I am surprised to find you in my bed, Sir,” Elizabeth teased to cover the uneasy feeling his gaze created in her.“I thought society's refined husbands returned to their own quarters after . . .”

“Some husbands feel the need for privacy.” His voice was soft and gentle, and he began to trace circles across her abdomen.“But I never want to leave your side, Elizabeth. Where you sleep, I sleep; this is
our
bed.” Her arms circled his neck, and she began to kiss
along his chin line.“Shall I call you
Lizzy
again?” he teased.

“I hope to never be
Elizabeth
ever again.” She nibbled on his earlobe as he once again encircled her with his arms.

“I love you, Lizzy,” were the last words he got out before she covered his mouth with hers.

 

Daylight streamed through the windows when she woke him by rubbing her palm over the stubble of his beard. “Mr. Darcy, you are more handsome when you are not so properly dressed.” Her laughter started as a gurgle in the back of her throat.“Do you have any idea of the time?”

“Do you have a pressing engagement elsewhere?” He pulled her closer to kiss her tenderly.

“I was just considering my need for nourishment. If I am to spend the rest of my life in bed with you, Sir, I will need the occasional meal to maintain my strength.”

“So, you never want to leave our bed either?” A look of contentment overspread his face.

“Fitzwilliam, I want to be wherever you are, but this bed has a special appeal,” she taunted.

He moved casually from the bed to retrieve her gown. “I will have someone bring us something to eat and have the room freshened. Maybe you would like to find a robe to add to your wardrobe,” he handed her the gown.“I will get rid of this stubble.” He rubbed his chin across the back of her hand.

Unable to contain her smile, Elizabeth slipped on her gown and disappeared into her dressing room before he put on his trousers and pulled the bell cord for the servants.

 

Elizabeth, not used to having people wait on her every whim, looked surprised to see Margaret enter her dressing room, but then she realized Darcy summoned her.

“Mrs. Darcy, I am having bathwater brought up; I assume you would like a bath.”

Elizabeth knew her appearance must be an open book of her
night with Darcy; she blushed at the thought, but she managed to say, “Thank you, Margaret, that would be nice.” She even offered the woman a hint of a smile.

Two younger maids entered with vases of yellow roses and put them on Elizabeth's dressing table.“What are these, Margaret?”

“Mr. Darcy had them brought from Pemberley for you, Mrs. Darcy. He had them cut as buds, wrapped in newsprint, and kept damp until they got here so they would not go bad. They were supposed to be here yesterday, but the driver had trouble on the road. Mr. Darcy wanted them for your bedroom last night, Madam; I hope he is not upset.”

“It is fine, Margaret. I am sure Mr. Darcy did not notice.”

“You are right, Madam. With a wife as beautiful as you are, a man should not be looking at flowers. I beg your pardon, Mrs. Darcy, sometimes my mouth runs away from my good sense.” Elizabeth let the woman know she offered no offense, and then she blushed with a remembrance of Darcy's passion last night.

Margaret moved a screen to block Elizabeth from the view of the servants carrying in the bathwater. Once they left, Elizabeth leisurely lay back in the warm water and let it seep around her body. Images of her husband played in her mind; she could not believe how easily she and Darcy became comfortable with each other; she knew she should not have looked on him or touched him as she did last night, but Darcy accepted her interest in his body—his pleasure as natural; it was liberating. Her mother would have been horrified; Mrs. Bennet, Charlotte, and Lydia painted pictures of what happened between a man and woman in the bedroom. Everything she ever gleaned about her “wifely duty” did not occur in her bedchamber last night. Darcy created a place where her desires often took precedence over his; images of the firmness of his shoulders and back and his arousal danced behind her closed eyes. When she finally got out of the tub, Margaret brought her a fresh gown, this one of white satin. “Another gift from Mr. Darcy, Madam.”

Elizabeth sat down at the dressing table; as she did at Pemberley
she reached out gently to touch the petals of the roses. Margaret picked up the hairbrush to tend to Elizabeth's hair when Darcy came up behind her.“I will do it, Margaret.”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and left.

Elizabeth held one of the roses in her hand and took in its fragrance. She said nothing to him as he took the brush and gently swept her hair back from her neck. She watched his reflection as he caressed her neck, kissing the nape; she turned to face him, tears forming in her eyes. “Elizabeth, is there something wrong?”

“It grieves me I did not see the man you were before now,” she whispered.

“I am a different man because I met you, Elizabeth.”

“These flowers are from your mother's plant, are they not?”

“The yellow represents the constancy of my love for you; each day the yellow sun rises in the sky is a day I will love you, Elizabeth.” He wiped away the tears streaming down her cheeks. “Are all women so emotional?” he teased.“You cry when you are happy and when you are sad.”

She gave him a hint of a smile before her arms encircled his neck tightly. “It is part of my arts and allurements,” she whispered in his ear.

“Let us go and eat what we have in
our
room so we can return to
our
bed,” he said softly into her hair for she still clung to him tightly. He picked her up and carried her back to the bedroom.

Darcy set her down in one of the chairs; she still clutched the rose in her hand; then he sat down across from her. She was so solemn it perplexed him as to what to do next. He took some of the fresh fruit on a fork and offered it to her. Elizabeth took it in her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Once she swallowed, she turned to Darcy and said, “Fitzwilliam, I never want you to be sorry you married me. You gave me so much already; I have nothing to give you in return.”

“Elizabeth, give me your respect, help me maintain Pemberley, and love me as you did last night. No man could want for more.”

Although she still felt a bit inadequate to deserve such a man as
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth nodded her head, but she did not answer. Instead, she picked up the fork, took a piece of fruit on it, and placed it in Darcy's mouth.
It would all be good,
she thought.
I will prove myself worthy of his love.

Later, when they returned to the bed, Darcy laid back with the pillows propped behind him and Elizabeth's head on his chest. “Poor Jane,” Elizabeth sighed.

“You are in our bed and thinking about your sister. I lost my appeal to you, I see.”

“On the contrary, Sir. I was just thinking Jane and Mr. Bingley are trying to be husband and wife in a house full of guests and my family three miles down the road. Jane deserves this kind of happiness; she and Mr. Bingley should be somewhere alone as we are.” She turned over and moved where she could reach his mouth. “Now, I am in need of a different kind of sustenance; one of your kisses would greatly restore my energies.” Darcy took her in his arms, letting the lavender overtake him.

 

For six days they sought no one else's company but each other's. Although they no longer took their meals in the bedroom, they spent the majority of their time there. Other times, they read together in the library taking turns reading to one another or just sitting close together as they read.“What are you doing, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked as she placed a book back onto the shelf in the library.

“I wanted to save the roses you gave me.” She seemed a bit embarrassed. “I put two of them in this book of poetry so they would be here each time we returned to Kensington Place. The others I dried to make a sachet.” She crossed the room to where he sat and leaned down to kiss his lips. “Constancy in love must be preserved,” she teased as he pulled her onto his lap and kissed her again.

On other days, Elizabeth played the pianoforte, and Darcy turned the music for her; she even rewarded him by singing for him one evening. He thought to try to teach her billiards, but whenever he encircled her body with his arms to show her how to hold the
stick correctly, she always turned to kiss him, and the game was lost to their passion.They were never more than a few feet apart. Darcy often came to her dressing room to just be with her while she bathed or to brush her hair. For a love, which took so long to find, they wasted no time in building a bond no one could destroy.

 

After a week, they decided a walk through the park would do them well as both were of a nature to spend time out of doors no matter what the weather. With Elizabeth on his arm, Darcy felt he saw London for its beauty for the first time. They walked along busy streets, but they saw no one. Reaching Hyde Park, they chose one of the lesser-traveled paths, enjoying the company of no one else. When they emerged from the secluded path to the main one leading through the park, Darcy stopped short hearing someone call his name. “Darcy, is that you my boy?”

“Your Lordship!” Surprise reflected in his voice while Darcy made his bow.

“It is you, Darcy. It is good to see you.”

“If I knew you were in London, Sir, I would have left my card.”

“Nonsense, do not fret so, my boy. Is this your new bride?”The man looked closely at Elizabeth.

“My apologies, Sir. Lord and Lady Pennington, may I present my wife Elizabeth?” Elizabeth made her curtsy to Darcy's companions. “Elizabeth, Lady Pennington is my mother's cousin.”

“I am honored to meet you both,” Elizabeth dropped her eyes.

Lady Pennington reached out and touched the side of Elizabeth's face. “Fitzwilliam, she does not appear to be a witch with magical powers,” her ladyship smirked.

“I see you heard from Lady Catherine,” Darcy added as he pulled Elizabeth closer.

“Do not go on so, Fitzwilliam; no one pays Lady Catherine much attention in such matters. Her strict nature makes her opinions less than appealing,” Lady Pennington assured him. “We received news of Anne's and Edward's engagement two days ago. Lady Catherine
was kind enough
to add her note to the announcement.”