Mr. Darcy's Promise (39 page)

So it was back to that promise? That wretched promise made weeks ago? Elizabeth was furious! After that deeply moving speech in the carriage, he still was going to hold tight to that stupid promise! What troubled him so about lying next to her? They had done it before and it turned out fine— better than fine! In fact, she had thoroughly enjoyed it! She felt a wave of anger and hurt that he did not want to repeat it. She turned sharply away and under her breath said, “Yes, perhaps a little too trustworthy.”

She turned back around, ready to use her newfound stubbornness to her advantage. “William, please, do this for me. I insist. There is no other option. You cannot sleep in the carriage; it has started to rain and is quite chilly. You cannot sleep in the barn with the horses. You cannot stay awake all night in the great room. You cannot buy your way into someone else’s bed when your wife insists you accompany her. I insist.” She lifted her chin and put her hands on her hips and looked him square in the eye.

Darcy stared at her. He could fight with her but he had no other options. He had no real grounds for saying no–– except, of course–– those of his own lack of self-control. He had never felt so weak before. She was insisting that he share a room, an option he begged for in his dreams,
an opportunity that he simply could not realize tonight. Not until she said so, and she hadn’t said so yet. He just stood there looking at her. What should he do? He dug down deep inside and evaluated his strength, but looking deep into her eyes was not helping him gather the fortitude required to do as she was suggesting. He looked away.

Elizabeth saw that stubbornness was not working. She changed her methods. “Please, I beg of you. Stay. I need you. Please William . . .” She heard Darcy groan.

Does she not realize how much I need her at that moment?
They had finally expressed their love and it had only made his desires stronger. He had waited this long and she was asking what seemed to him to be the impossible. He turned to the entryway desk and rang the bell. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he would have to find the strength. The innkeeper returned. “We will take the room but we will require extra blankets and pillows.”
Dear Lord! Am I doing the right thing here?

“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.
I will have them bring the trunks up right away. Let me show you to the room.”

Darcy couldn’t look Elizabeth in her fine eyes. He couldn’t offer his arm and escort her. He couldn’t hold her hand. He could not watch her chocolate curls bounce as she walked. He couldn’t watch her thin waist sway with her legs’ movement and he most definitely could not kiss her. These were the ground rules that he would have to obey. He motioned for her to follow the innkeeper, and he followed her, looking right at the ground as he walked up the stairs. He kept a few feet behind trying to remember all the kings in order beginning from King Henry the V. Distraction
was helpful. It might even help him get through the night.

“Here it
is, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy. Dinner will be ham and potatoes and will be served in half an hour.”

Elizabeth looked at her husband who was silently staring at the floor. Was it so terrible to spend the night in the same room? He was obviously preoccupied in his mind so she addressed the innkeeper, “Can you bring dinner to the room?”

“Yes, madam. Would you like tea or wine with dinner?”

“Wine,” Elizabeth said.

Darcy’s head shot up. “Tea! Definitely tea!” He did not need to have any alcohol in his system tonight, even if it was just wine. He saw Elizabeth’s confused face and immediately felt bad for contradicting her in front of the innkeeper. “Bring both,” he conceded. He may not want the wine, but Elizabeth did, and that would not affect his self-control. He had to be more careful or he would hurt Elizabeth’s feelings. The innkeeper closed the door behind him. He scanned the room, and noted that there was a small chaise with a tall back. Although in normal circumstances it would not look comfortable in the slightest, it appeared heavenly to his eyes. He had a place to sleep other than her bed. His legs suddenly felt weak.

Elizabeth watched as her husband walked over to the small chaise and sat down and put his face in his hands. She took her reticule and walked to the mirror. She started unpinning her hair and brushing the curls out. It had been a long week. Was it really only a week ago that they kissed for the first time? Was it really only hours longer than that that she realized how much she loved him? She peered at his reflection in the mirror. He still had his head in his hands. She continued to brush her hair before she began to plait it.

Don’t, Fitzwilliam. Just don’t watch her.
He tried to convince himself not to watch her comb her hair, but hearing the brush run through the curls made his own toes curl in desire and his body began to grow warm. His fingers ached to run through them and his mind imagined doing just that. He decided that his imagination was not helpful at the moment and he would probably be better just seeing the simple act. He looked up as she was plaiting her hair. Her hands had pulled all her hair off to the side but he could see the ringlets on the other side of her neck, the ones that would not fit into the braid, the ones that were so charmingly feminine. He looked away. He added not watching her plait her hair as part of the ground rules. He lowered his head again to his hands. It seemed like hours before she was done.

Elizabeth stood up and sat next to him. She took his hand from his face in both of hers and kissed it. “William, please,
look at me. I do not want this night to be like this. We love each other. Does it have to be like this? Can we at least enjoy each other’s company?”

Darcy sighed. He was hurting her. If he could just have enough self-control to make it through the night! The knock on the door came as a welcome relief. He jumped up and several servants brought in their trunks. As they were leaving, dinner arrived, another welcome relief. A few more of those interruptions and it would be time to go to sleep. Then he groaned. He wasn’t exactly looking forward to that anyway. He allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her fine eyes were pleading with him, almost begging him to change his behavior. He did not want to hurt her. He had vowed just an hour ago that he would do anything to hear her laughter. She had given her heart to him and look at what he was doing with it! He was moping around,
morose about being in her presence when that was truly all he wanted anyway! He would have to let himself interact with her, look at her, smell her, and not totally ignore her like he had been doing.

“I am sorry, Elizabeth,” he apologized, “I am just overwhelmed. So much has happened and I am deeply worried about Wickham. If we get an early start, just after dawn, we should be at Pemberley just around the afternoon luncheon. Do you think we could leave that early?”

She reached for his arm and led him to the small table the food was on. “Absolutely. I am anxious to see that Georgiana is safe as well.”

He felt the warmth of her tiny hands on his arm and felt some relief. Why was going against his ground rules helping his anxiety? They talked all through dinner. The mood lightened as he asked what the chicks would look like by now.

“Oh, they will not be the adorable fuzzy things you remember. Their feathers on their wings will be showing and there will be little spikes coming out of their heads. It is not a pretty sight.”

“Lizzy will be ugly? I cannot believe such a thing!” he teased her.

Her jaw popped open and she laughed, “I will have you know Fitz will be just as unattractive. Worse, I am afraid, because he is so clumsy.”

“But Lizzy likes to roll around in the mud so I am sure she will look worse than the grand Fitz.” He knew they were not talking about the chicks. They were teasing each other again, and it helped him relax. This was the woman he loved. This was the laughter that was balm to his heart.

“I am sure Fitz would not know how to find his own food, so he may be helpless and lost,” she teased back. His eyes smiled back at her and her heart flipped in her chest. She suddenly got serious. “William? I do not want you to sleep on the chaise. I want to wake up in your arms tomorrow and every morning thereafter.” She saw him stiffen but he continued to smile back at her. He reached for her hands and kissed them.

“You do not know what you are asking me to do.”

“I do, William. I know what I am asking.”

“I do not want our actual honeymoon to be anywhere but Pemberley, and definitely not because we were forced to share a room. I do not want to push you or make you feel obligated.”

“Then let us just sleep in each other’s arms tonight. I promise I will be good, you will be good, and we will both sleep comfortably. Please?”

He had already had this conversation with himself. He could not do it. He pulled his hands away.

Be direct. This man needs me to be direc
t
.
She took a deep breath and readied herself for her next comment. It took all her courage to do so. “You promised me not until I wished it. I wish it now, William. Please?” She learned that he was bound more by duty than by anything else, and she wasn’t about to let the moment to use it to her advantage slip by. She watched him take a deep breath and look at her. She raised her eyebrow in challenge. Would he back out of his promise now after she made her desires known so directly?

He looked in her eyes and he was undone. How could he say no to something both his body and mind were begging for? How could he say no to those beautiful brown eyes?
To that impertinent lip and eyebrow? He stood up and leaned over the table to kiss her on the lips. “I did promise you that, and I keep my promises.”

She smiled widely at him and reached for his face to attempt to kiss him again, but he pulled away. “But you promised to kiss me anytime I want!”

“One promise at a time, Elizabeth. Do not tempt me beyond what I can handle.”

M

r. Darcy could feel the warmth of the sun on his face. He turned his head away from the glaring light, but his body refused to move, relishing the sensation of Elizabeth still asleep in his arms. It slowly dawned on his sleepy mind that he had successfully made it through the night! He reviewed the events of last night in his mind as his body adjusted to waking. He had given her some time to get ready for bed after dinner; indeed, he had delayed his ascent up the stairs for as long as was possible. He had checked on the horses,
informed the driver of their plans to leave at first light, arranged with the inn to have rolls and preserves available first thing in the morning for them and their driver, and taken a moment to draw in some cleansing breaths in the cool night air. The night would be difficult for him, he knew. It was a trial that he most definitely wanted to endure, but he wanted to remain in control as well. As he gazed out at the night, he noted the rain was letting up but still could tell the temperature had dropped. He hoped that Pemberley wasn’t this cold so that the chicks would be warm enough. He laughed at himself. Now he cared as much about the chickens as she did!

It was time and he knew it. He headed up the stairs, saying a prayer with each step. His feet propelled him faster than was necessary, as if to show how much he anticipated holding her all night. He pulled at his cravat before he knocked. He heard her sweet voice tell him to come in. When he opened it, he saw that she was already in bed, her hair plaited, wearing her nightdress. He glanced over at the couch to see her dressing gown draped there. His hands continued tugging at the stubborn cravat.

“I can step out if you need to get changed,” she offered.

“I think I will just sleep in my shirt and breeches.” He needed his clothes on, and all he cared about at the moment was getting this ridiculous knot out of his cravat. He kept working on it without looking up at her, but knew that his frustration was apparent to Elizabeth.

“Come here,” he heard her say after a moment. “I will help you.”

He did not need her helping him take off his clothes. In fact, that would be the farthest thing from helpful. Just then the knot finally came loose and he pulled on the cravat, the fabric spiraling down into his hand. “I have it, thank you.” He slipped out of his frock coat and then his waistcoat, all the while stealing glances in her direction. She was watching him with a barely suppressed smile on her face. He sat down near her and leaned over to remove his boots before he heard her giggle and sat up to face her.

“And why, may I ask are you giggling? No, never mind— I learned my lesson long ago to not ask why you are giggling. But since there is no mud nearby, I will make one request. Would you mind at least not laughing at me? I am sure I appear absurd, but am a little self-conscious at the moment.”

She giggled again, but this time attempted to stifle it. “I cannot help finding our situation amusing. Here we are married for almost six weeks and I am just now watching my husband remove his clothes. We have had a strange marriage so far. I do not think I have heard of one like it.”

“Nor have I. I do not think I would have exchanged it for any other, though. It has been an enjoyable journey; frustrating at times, but still enjoyable. There were so many times we shared that we could not have had if we were courting. Like that night that we candled the eggs for the first time. I nearly kissed you when the candle went out. I would have never been alone with you at night in a barn if we were courting.” He pulled off one boot before starting to work on the next one. Talking helped to soothe his nervousness.

“Or that time I nearly fainted in London and you carried me to my room? I almost died of embarrassment when Serafina started unlacing my boots in front of you. If we were courting we would
have never been in a bedroom together and you would have never seen my feet.”

He laughed, “Yes, you were determined to keep those feet hidden from me, and Serafina was quite determined to take your shoes off. It was quite a battle of wills. I especially enjoyed watching you get measured right before my eyes; another thing I would never have been party to if we had had a normal courtship.”

“Yes, you were enjoying that so much I do not doubt you know my measurements by heart!” He turned around and saw her grinning.

“I do,” he teased. Her jaw popped open.

“William! I cannot believe you! Well, I enjoyed the unchaperoned walks and hikes that were like my own private tour of the Pemberley grounds. That is something that I would never be able to convince my sisters to do with me, since none of them are ‘great walkers’!”

He laughed easily and took off his remaining boot. “Hmm, I agree. Showing you Pemberley was a highlight of mine as well. I have to admit seeing you each morning and saying goodnight to you each night was something I would not have given up either.”

“Like tonight.”

He smiled back at her, “Yes, like tonight.” He drew his stockings off and pulled back the covers. He moved as if by habit, giving little thought to what he was doing. Having them talk about their marriage had calmed him so much that it had become simply natural to crawl in bed next to her. “What has been your favorite moment so far?” He propped a pillow up behind him and raised his arm so she could lie next to him, resting her head against his chest. She wrapped her arms around his chest and shifted into a comfortable position.

“My favorite moment? Kiss, or experience? What exactly are you asking?” 

He listened to the vibration of her voice resonate through his chest. “Tell me your favorite kiss first, then moment.”

“Well, my favorite kiss was the second one in the carriage when I asked you to kiss me— no, wait, it was when you kissed the inside of my wrist on the night of the theatre. Oh, I do not know. I have too many favorites. Each one makes me react so intensely that I scarcely know my own body! My favorite moment was most definitely today in the carriage when you told me how you loved me. But that may be because each moment I have with you just continues to get better than the last. Do you think it will always be that way? Will you always affect me so intensely?” She looked up at him and met his gaze.

“I certainly hope so. If it was up to me I never want to lose that racing heart when we touch, or that breathless moment during a kiss, or that tingling and heat I feel when we hold each other.”

“Like now,” she said, laying her head back on his chest, her arms drawing tightly around him.

He smiled, resting his hand against her neck before he kissed the top of her head. “Yes, like now.”

They talked for another half an hour before she began to yawn and speak more quietly. He tucked the blanket around her shoulders then and allowed himself to relax into the pillow. He had never been more comfortable. This was what he had craved for months and it wasn’t difficult for him. He remained awake for an hour more, simply listening to her breathe and basking in the moment. He didn’t want to miss any movement, any touch, any sensation that he was feeling at the moment. She was his, and he was hers. All that worry about being in control was nearly funny now. He was very much in control of his actions. He was where he wanted to be and the inner turmoil was no longer present. This was enough. Hearing her talk about their unique marriage and laughing about how neither one would change how it worked out was powerful. In fact, never before had he felt more in control of his person while together than at that moment.

He did finally fall asleep and woke to find the sun was just cresting over the mountains and shining through their window. He could tell by her slow and steady breath that she was still deeply asleep. They had wanted to be on the road about now, so he took a moment and kissed her hair. She didn’t move. He put his hand on her shoulder and caressed her back. “Elizabeth, it is time to wake up.”

She moaned and mumbled, “No.” She held on tighter to his chest.

He smiled. He never thought she would be slow to rise or even cross in the morning. The pace of her breathing had quickened, though, telling him that she was now awake. He looked down at her face which had a telltale smile on it. So this was how she wanted to play? “What do I have to do to get you to wake up? Elizabeth?” he jested. He saw her smile widen.

Elizabeth was awake but she had a plan. She started to pretend to snore, and quite dramatically too. She tried not to laugh at herself when he started laughing. He picked up her hand that was draped against his chest and kissed the palm three times. She stopped snoring for a moment, but when he stopped kissing it she began up again.

“Oh, I see, my fair princess must be kissed awake.” She let out a large snore followed by a giggle, and then she started snoring again in earnest. Suddenly, in one quick movement William rolled over her and was straddling her, still holding the one hand and trapping it above her head. He quickly found her other hand and pinned it above her head too.

She wanted to open her eyes, but it was taking all her willpower to continue snoring loudly without smiling, of which she knew she was failing miserably at.

Her hair had come loose from the
plait and covered part of her face. He placed both her hands in one of his and brushed the curls from her face with the other hand. She was beyond fascinating, beyond beautiful, beyond tempting. He leaned down, and with his lips inches from hers, teased, “Or is it tickling she needs to wake up?” His free hand quickly grabbed her waist and tickled her. She cried out in laughter, but her eyes remained closed. He let up on the tickling and leaned in to whisper in her ear, making sure his lips touched it as he spoke, “Or does she need to hear how much I ardently love and admire her?” He sat up when the snoring stopped, but it was only quiet for a moment. She took a deep breath and let out the loudest snore yet. He laughed. “Well then, there is only one thing left to do.” He let go of her hands and placed his own at each side of her head before he leaned down and kissed her.

Elizabeth’s plan had worked out very nicely. She kissed him back passionately, wrapping her now-free hands around his back. Their kisses were deep and full of longing, their lips parting briefly before she pulled his chest to hers. Before she had a chance to fully enjoy the moment he was up off the bed with his hands running nervously through his hair. “What is wrong?” she asked.

Darcy had to take a moment to regain composure. He had not thought to set a ground rule about not to roll around on top of Elizabeth kissing her passionately. That, he reflected, should not have needed to be spoken. “I am sorry Elizabeth, I cannot kiss you while you are in bed yet. Certainly not like that. Not when I just want more.” He wanted to be completely honest with her. She needed to know he desired her deeply, but he was firm in the matter that their physical relationship would not begin at the Rose and Crown inn.

She sat up, getting out of bed and walking to him, “And if I was not in bed would you kiss me?”

“Please Elizabeth, get dressed. You said you would be good.”

“Very well.
But I still want a morning kiss. You owe me for the morning of your headache, for a woman does not sleep with a man and not receive a morning kiss for her trouble.” She took his hand and pressed a kiss against each finger.

He sighed and kissed her gently once on the lips. “Get dressed,” he repeated in a hoarse and strained voice. He snatched up his boots and stockings before he stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him.

*****

After receiving the express last evening around dinner, Richard’s first act was to alert all the staff to be looking out for Wickham. He had retrieved Darcy’s pistol and loaded it and put it in his belt. He had informed Georgiana of Wickham’s plans and when he wasn’t personally with her, he placed her in the care of the strongest, tallest groomsman he found while he walked the grounds of Pemberley.

So far there had been no sign of him, nor anything unusual. He continued to pace, eyes and ears alert to anything and everything. He made this his routine for the last eighteen hours, refusing to sleep, his body drawing on all the fortitude he’d gained from his last twelve years of military service. He was methodical in his watch. First he would check on Georgiana, then he would speak with the staff and search Pemberley’s interior. Then he would check on Georgiana again, and then he would walk the grounds, asking the outside servants for information. He was readying to perform his rounds inside when he heard a faint splash.

It was high noon, he noted, without a cloud in the sky. He almost stepped back in: it was likely a fish or bird, but something told him to walk further. When he heard it again, his hand went instinctively to his pistol. From his current vantage point, he could see the front of the house, anyone who might approach by road, and down to the barn. He turned his attention to a nearby stream that was shadowed by tall reeds, and frowned. It was small, he knew, and shallow, but fish still swam in it. He waved to a servant down by the barn for assistance. When Sparks acknowledged him, Colonel Fitzwilliam put his finger to his lips,
then pointed to the stream where he had heard the sound. The servant picked up a pitchfork and carefully made his way towards Richard and the stream. Richard approached as well, listening intently. The sound of rustling reeds gave him pause. That was definitely not a fish. Sparks crept closer, drawing about ten meters from the stream. Colonel Fitzwilliam waited a minute more, then figured he was close enough to see what made the sound. He lunged towards it, gun in hand, flushing out the man hiding there. Wickham!