The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy (35 page)

“God, Lizzy, how can you feel this wonderful?” he said hoarsely in her ear. He paused for a moment to keep himself from climaxing. She sensed his hesitation.

“Please don’t stop, Darcy,” she whispered. “Take me with you.”

He gripped the iron posts of the headboard and began to thrust into her. He put his mouth on the nape of her neck and bit down, stifling his exclamations of ecstasy. She stuffed her pillow into her mouth and cried out, senseless to anything but the explosion of orgasmic pleasure coursing through her body.

When his own shuddering climax ended, Darcy released his grip on the headboard posts. He shifted off of her back to allow her to breathe and nestled beside her on her pillow. He closed his eyes and smiled contentedly.

“Headboard
...
good
...
traction,” he murmured, already drifting off to sleep with her curled into his arms. Elizabeth laughed softly into his neck and closed her eyes.

Darcy was roused from his slumber by the doorbell. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on the couch while watching a movie. Elizabeth was not there; she was with Jane with last minute wedding preparations. The doorbell rang again.

He stood and answered the door. It was Fletcher. Darcy blinked away his sleep and raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Fletcher?” he said, stepping aside to let him in. Fletcher nodded and stepped inside. Darcy closed the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” Darcy asked. Fletcher turned to him.

“I’ve asked Georgie to marry me. She won’t give me an answer until I talk to you,” he said angrily.

Darcy laughed.

“It’s not funny! What the hell business is it of yours?” Fletcher spat out. Darcy assumed a serious expression.

“No, of course not. She is old enough to make her own decisions. Is she going to say yes?”

“I would assume so; why send me to you if she were going to say no?”

“Good point. Have a seat, Fletcher. Let’s talk.”

Fletcher took off his jacket and sat on the couch. Darcy went to the kitchen and brought them each a beer.

“Well, do I have to ask your permission or something?” Fletcher said after taking a long draught of beer. Darcy shook his head. He took his own long drink. Both let out long, deep beer burps.

“No, it’s a money thing,” Darcy replied.

“I can support her on my own, we don’t need your money,” Fletcher said, not unkindly.

“What exactly do you
do
, Fletcher?” Darcy asked. He had known Fletcher for a while through Georgiana and had gotten to know him better in the last six months or so, enough to know that he liked him; but he didn’t really know anything
about
him.

“I’m a veterinarian,” Fletcher replied, shocked to realize that Darcy didn’t know that about him.

“Really? How did you meet Georgie?” Darcy said, surprised. He had assumed Fletcher was a deadbeat, a loveable pothead, maybe a bicycle messenger.

“Through a roommate. They went on about three dates but we hit it off better than they did. We’re no longer roommates, by the way.”

Darcy laughed. He questioned Fletcher on his financials and was satisfied that Fletcher was able to support Georgiana on his own.

“Look, I understand that you guys are close and all but this is ridiculous,” Fletcher said as he took another drink of beer. Darcy nodded and took another drink as well. Both expelled belches again.

“I agree. How much do you know about Georgie’s past?” he asked. Fletcher nodded.

“I know about Rat Bastard Wickham. I know about your raising her in England and here in California. She doesn’t tell me much about growing up in England, though. I have a vague notion that she was in boarding school.”

Darcy sighed. “Do you know where Georgie gets her money?” he asked.

“From you,” Fletcher answered. “She makes a decent salary at the Symphony but she got extra from you for the house she bought.”

“No, I only control the purse strings. The money is hers.”

Fletcher shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t care about the money.”

“Georgiana and I come from a very old family. Our family dates all the way back to before William the Conqueror.”

“You’re not the king, are you?” Fletcher quipped, rolling his eyes. Darcy laughed and shook his head.

“No, we’re not titled but we are considered aristocracy. I’m only telling you this so that you will know what to expect. She and I have never given it any real thought, it has never made any difference to us, especially here. Nonetheless, there will be certain expectations of you as her husband should you ever move to England. Social things, mostly, but tedious in any event.”

“That’s all well and good but I don’t think we’ll be moving to England,” Fletcher replied. Darcy nodded.

“She’s got a very large inheritance which is currently in trust and I am the trustee,” Darcy said. “I had the option of relinquishing control to her when she turned 25 but I declined. I have no inclination to give up control now, either,” Darcy said.

Fletcher shrugged.

“It’s an inheritance of 80 million pounds,” Darcy finished.

“As long as it doesn’t settle on her ass, I don’t care,” Fletcher said.

“Fletcher, I like you. I really do,” Darcy said, laughing. Fletcher smiled in return.

“So, can I marry her?”

“Not so hasty, if you please, you have to listen to the speech first,” Darcy said, rapping his knuckles on the table; he was a little buzzed from the beer. “OK, here it goes: I disapprove of your social status, you are not good enough for the noble blood of my sister. Any children you have will be polluted by your blood. You will be entitled to no share of her inheritance should she die or should you leave her. In the event of your death or divorce, your children by her will be provided for. Depending on the circumstances, I have the option of granting you a living allowance in the event she leaves you or dies. Until I relinquish control of the trust, she cannot access any of the funds unless I die. Don’t get any bright ideas. I’m fairly generous with her money but she does have to consult me on any major purchases, such as the house. You have no rights to the estate of Pemberley, which is descended through the eldest male unless there is no male then it goes to her. So as long as I’m alive and have kids, it goes through me. If I die without any kids, it goes to her. That’s kind of a big deal in the family.”

“This is hysterical, Darcy, are you
serious
?” Fletcher laughed. Darcy nodded.

“I’m afraid so. Anyway, unrelenting snobbery, blah blah blah. Think you can handle it?”

Fletcher gave him a sidelong glance and smiled. “This is so bullshit,” he said, shaking his head in disbelief.

Darcy shook his head. “It’s not. The material point is that I won’t give up the trust and a pre-nup is mandatory if she ever hopes to have any money from the trust at all. If you can handle that, it’s all fine.”

“I don’t know what kind of things you think I’m looking to buy from her trust fund. On our salaries we can make a very comfortable living. I don’t want to dip into it and I don’t anticipate that we will. However, I understand that should some situation arise and we need to, we will need to consult you first. I’m fine with that.”

“I do give her an allowance from the interest, so in reality you should never need money.”

“Just out of curiosity, Darcy, what’s your share? Being the male heir and all.”

“I get all the lands and estates and about 500 million pounds.”

“Good lord! Where did all that money come from?” Fletcher exclaimed.

“It’s old money, it’s hard to say it came from any one source. It’s been grown and shrunk over the years by various business ventures. It’s been pretty stable for the last couple of generations,” Darcy shrugged.

“Georgie’s getting a raw deal at only 80 mil,” Fletcher said.

Darcy nodded sympathetically.

Fletcher laughed. “Who the fuck cares, it’s monopoly money anyway. I’ll never use it.”

Darcy smiled. “Then it’s a go, as long as she says yes,” Darcy said.

“What the hell is taking you so long?” came Georgiana’s voice from the doorway. Darcy and Fletcher looked up at her.

“I had to give him the speech,” Darcy said defensively.

“Yes, Lady Darcy, I had to learn all the protocol. Is it two steps behind or three?” Fletcher said, turning to Darcy. Darcy raised two fingers.

“Are you OK with all that bullshit?” Georgiana asked Fletcher as he approached her.

“Honey, I’m already prepared for all the bullshit in the world just being married to you and your brother,” he said, putting his arms around her waist. “Can I have my answer now?”

“Yes, you can. It’s yes. Idiot,” she smiled and kissed him. Darcy looked at them wistfully and felt misty.

He left them alone and went to his study, opened the safe and pulled out the ring. He returned to them and cleared his throat. They parted and Georgiana went to him. He hugged her fiercely and kissed the top of her head. He blinked a few times too often and then pulled away.

“Here, you should have this,” he said, putting the ring in her palm. She looked at it with a tilted head. “It was mom’s,” he clarified. She nodded, and gave it back to him.

“I think you should keep it,” she said softly, closing his fingers around it.

“No, it belongs to you,” he protested.

“Don’t you want to give it to Lizzy?” she asked.

“Ah, well, we’re not quite there yet,” he laughed shortly. “Anyway, I thought you should have it. For sentimental reasons.”

Georgiana looked up at him and smiled tenderly.

“Will, this ring means far more to you than it does to me. You should keep it and give it to Elizabeth when you’re ready. It will mean more to both of you.”

She was right. She had so little recollection of their mother that the ring was like a piece of costume jewelry. But to Darcy, it had tremendous sentimental value. He had seen his mother wear it every day, had watched her finger shrink under it when he sat at her bedside and held it tightly when she gave it to him. As he held it now. He looked at his sister with complete adoration.

“Besides, Fletcher has to buy me a ring,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Fletcher. Fletcher approached them to stand behind Georgiana.

“Yes. Darcy, can I have the keys to the trust to buy her a ring?”

Mrs.
Bennet
had planned her dream wedding for Jane. Bingley and Jane had managed to trim the guest list to only 200 and even that had been a battle. But no one could deny that it was a splendid affair, with the ceremony held in Grace Cathedral in San Francisco. Using Bingley’s money, Fanny
Bennet
had outdone herself. Jane was a vision of angelic beauty, her dress a ball gown of cascading duchess satin with a cathedral train and yards of tulle. They were married on the last Saturday of November.

As best man, Darcy had the daunting task of keeping Charles Bingley on time, composed, and sober. Not that Bingley was likely to get drunk but he was giddy enough to smile foolishly throughout the entire ceremony if it were not called to his attention.

Elizabeth stood before the mirror with Jane in their dressing room. Jane adjusted her veil again. Her mother was surprisingly composed
,
but Elizabeth did not detect any suspicious odors
,
and adjusted Jane’s veil back to its original position.

“Stop fussing, Jane,” Mrs.
Bennet
said softly. “You look lovely. You look like Grace Kelly,” she said. She stood back and smiled at Jane.

There was a soft knock on the door and Elizabeth called “Come in.”

Darcy poked his head in.

“Mrs.
Bennet
, your husband has lost something, he’s asked you to come help him,” he said coming into the room.

Elizabeth had not seen him all day; she had stayed with Jane the night before and with the rush of today, she had not laid eyes on him once yet. She sighed when she saw him. He looked frankly devastating in his tuxedo. She wasn’t one to be bowled over by James Bond types but Darcy was just such a fine specimen in her eyes that she thought he’d look fine in a dirty loincloth. She raised an eyebrow at the thought.

“What?” Darcy asked, looking down critically at his tuxedo. Was there lint on his lapel, or something?

“Nothing,” Elizabeth grinned.

“Lizzy! Come here at once!” came her mother’s voice with a faint hint of panic. Elizabeth saw Jane’s eyes flash toward the door, her own face showing signs of panic. Elizabeth made a placating gesture toward her and exited the room.

“How are you feeling?” Darcy asked as he stood behind Jane at the mirror.

She laughed but it sounded a little too shrill. “Like I’m about to face a firing squad. I can’t believe how many people are going to be there. What if I forget my vows? What if I trip going down the aisle? What if my mother remembers how she normally behaves?” Her voice was increasing in shrillness.

Darcy laughed softly and put his hands on her arms, somehow avoiding stepping on the voluminous gown around her.

“Jane, think about it. What’s the worst thing that could happen today?”

“Well, they could drop the cake or somebody could faint or my dress could get torn
...”
she began, reciting a laundry list that had accumulated in her mind over the last 24 hours. Darcy smiled and squeezed her arms gently.

“No, Jane, the worst thing that could happen is that you miss the joy of your own wedding with silly worries. This is the only day in your life when you will marry Charley. What do you want your memories to be? That one of the tables was missing a centerpiece? Or that this was one of the happiest days of your life?”

Jane met his eyes in the mirror and let out a slow exhale. Then she smiled. She visibly relaxed.

“You’re a great guy, Will,” she said. “No wonder Charley likes you so much.” She squeezed his hand.

Elizabeth returned to the dressing room to see her boyfriend and her soon-to-be-married sister in a somewhat tender embrace.

“Hey now!” she laughed as she closed the door behind her. Darcy looked up at her and smiled.

“Disaster averted?” he asked as he pulled away from Jane.

Elizabeth nodded. “Missing boutonniere,” she explained. “Not found but replaced. The wedding can go on,” she said. She had pulled a flower from her own bouquet to make her father a new one.

Darcy looked at her for the first time today. She was lovely, wearing a floor-length satin and organza bridesmaid gown in a rich cranberry color. The color set off her creamy skin, which had lost its summer tan. Her hair was swept up into a chignon with small jeweled pins.

“You look very nice,” he said smiling.

“I hope so or this very expensive dress will have been all for nothing,” she teased.

Darcy walked to her and gave her a soft, lingering kiss just near her ear.

“I lied, you look ravishing,” he said quietly. She laughed and put one hand on his waist in a familiar, loving gesture.

“You’re looking your usual dashing self,” she grinned at him. He shrugged and smiled as if to say
I can’t help it.
She laughed again.

“I missed you last night,” he said quietly so that Jane would not hear. “It’s hard to sleep without you.”

“Am I so boring that you use me as a sleep aid?” she teased him.

“On the contrary, your vigorous workouts are excellent for wearing me out,” he rejoined quietly and brushed his lips across hers. “Try not to make a habit of not being there,” he said. His hand lingered delicately on her shoulder, thumb stroking her neck lightly. His other hand sneaked around her waist and pulled her closer to him.

“Will, control yourself, it’s Jane’s wedding day,” Elizabeth said.

“And what of it? I’m not marrying her. I have other prospects in mind,” he said and kissed her. She was just putting her arms around his neck when Mrs.
Bennet
bustled back in.

“Oh, you two, I suppose another one will be just around the corner. But one wedding at a time, one at a time. Let’s go, we’re ready to start,” she said as she walked toward Jane. Darcy pulled back from Elizabeth but not before he gave her a meaningful look. Exactly what the meaning was, she wasn’t sure
,
maybe “yes, another wedding is around the corner,” or perhaps “you mother certainly is presumptuous,” or possibly even “I wish we were having sex right now”. She pulled away from him and they both went about their duties as maid of honor and best man.

The wedding ceremony was unfortunately very formal and very long. There were several bouts of kneeling and rising and recitations of prayers in both English and Latin. It was the closest thing Elizabeth had ever seen to a royal wedding and she supposed it would be considered a society wedding of the better sort. Her preference was for something less formal, more heartfelt, but then, this really was her
mother’s
wedding, not Jane’s. Elizabeth’s eyes crept up to find Darcy’s already on her. Her heart skipped a beat and she briefly imagined that she was marrying him as she listened to the vows. He was doing the same thing.

Finally, the ceremony ended and the recessional played. Elizabeth took Darcy’s arm and they walked down the aisle out of the church into the brisk but
,
luckily
,
sunny day outside. There was another hour of photos and confusion before they were able to get into the hired Rolls Royce and drive to the reception at a luxury hotel. Elizabeth and Bingley helped Jane get her dress, flowers, and veil all into the car while Darcy discussed directions with the chauffer. Finally, they arrived at the hotel and were announced to the waiting crowd.

Elizabeth and Darcy each gave warm toasts. They danced the obligatory first dance and helped with the cake cutting. Darcy danced with Jane and told her she was the loveliest bride he had ever seen
,
which was not untrue as he had yet to see either Georgie or Elizabeth as brides. She thanked him and laughed that he shouldn’t flirt with a married woman. At last, with his obligations complete, he was able to find his sister.

“You made a very fine speech,” Georgiana said as she tucked her arm into Darcy’s. He smiled at her.

“Thank you, you’re far too kind, I’m sure.”

“Elizabeth wrote it, didn’t she?” she laughed.

He nodded and smiled wryly.

“Want to dance with me?” she asked as a slow song came on.

He smiled and led her to the dance floor.

“You’re thinking of proposing, aren’t you?” she said as they danced.

He nodded. “It has been on my mind a lot,” he answered.

“Please, please don’t do it tonight. There’s no bigger breach of wedding etiquette than to propose at someone else’s wedding,” she said to him.

He looked at her in surprise. “Really?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s unpardonably rude to the bride. Besides, it gives the appearance that you are doing it only because you got swept away in the moment. It is in fact one of the
worst
times to propose. I’m only telling you this because you look like you’re chomping at the bit and I don’t want her to shoot you down. Wait a few days at least.”

“Thanks,” he said appreciatively. The song ended and a fast song came on. He looked for Elizabeth and saw that she was dancing with Fletcher. Georgie and Darcy exited the dance floor and watched them dance.

Georgie laughed at them then looked up at Darcy, who was not laughing. Instead, he was staring intently at them.

“What’s wrong with you now?” she asked him, annoyed.

He looked down at her, blinked, and then laughed. He shook his head.

“What?” she demanded.

He laughed again. She crossed her arms and looked at him, implicitly demanding an answer.

He bent down to her ear. “She is so fucking sexy it drives me crazy,” he said in Georgie’s ear.

She looked at him in shocked horror.

“You asked!” he laughed defensively.

“Next time I ask, just say it’s private,” she said, closing her eyes as if to delete the quote from her brain.

“C’mon, Georgie, we don’t keep any secrets from each other,” he teased.

“You are not allowed to have a sex life, you’re my older brother,” she laughed. He didn’t say that he’d thought the same thing about her a million times, even after that fantasy was so brilliantly smashed by Wickham.

“I assure you, I do have a very active sex life and
-”
he began, teasing her again.

“STOP! I do NOT want to hear any more! I heard enough at Yosemite!” she said, grimacing.

Darcy laughed. He looked back at Elizabeth, who had her back to Fletcher and was rubbing her rear into his groin, doing an erotic dance with his arms around her waist. Fletcher was smiling and looked like he was enjoying himself maybe a little too much.

Georgiana noticed and marched onto the dance floor and cut in. Elizabeth laughed good-naturedly and sought out Darcy. When she found him, she tried to entice him onto the dance floor.

“Come on, let’s go dance,” she said, pulling his arm.

He pulled her into him instead and said,
“No, I can’t dance like that. I may need private lessons. In fact, I suggest we go up to our room and practice right now.” She looked up at him and saw that although he was teasing her, he was serious. He wanted her now. She smiled at him.

“Maybe we could just go freshen up?” she said coyly. He nodded. She took his hand and led him out of the reception area and to the elevator. As the elevator was packed with people, he made no move to kiss or touch her. As soon as they were in the room, however, he pulled her into a passionate kiss.

“I can’t believe how much I miss you when you’re gone,” he said as he kissed her neck and pulled off his tuxedo jacket. She laughed and undid his pants; he kicked his shoes off.

“Why are you so infernally sexy?” she asked him as his tie came off.

“Why are you reading my mind?” he replied as he unzipped her dress.

The gown fell to a cranberry puddle at her feet and she stepped out.

He looked at her in consternation. “What kind of sex-defying contraption is that?” he asked, looking at her supportive undergarment.

She laughed. “Here, you have to unhook this first,” she said softly, pulling his hands to her undergarment. “And then this unzips here,” she continued, guiding his hands.

He found it strangely sexy that she was showing him how to undo a garment that could have been his grandmother’s.

“And this is the last snap,” she said, guiding his hand between her legs.

“That should have come undone first,” he grinned. She shook her head.

“Then I wouldn’t be completely naked, would I?” she said as she pushed the garment down.

“No indeed,” he breathed. His vest and shirt were quickly discarded, and he held her close to him.

“Can I take your hair down?” he asked. She shook her head.

“No, we do have to go back downstairs. Let’s try not to mess it up,” she said. She kissed him and ran her fingers over his chest while he pressed her back with his hands. He made a little moaning noise as her fingers brushed across his nipples. She smiled under his kiss, then dipped her head to attend to his nipples. She put her open mouth on one, letting her hot breath warm it. She kissed it softly, then she put the flat of her tongue on it, stroking it across the puckered skin. He closed his eyes and let his hand rest on her shoulder, the other continuing to stroke her back, working its way to her butt.