“But she loved him, Fitzwilliam.Think about it. Lady Anne bore him a second child—Georgiana. Do we have any way of knowing whether Lady Anne’s demise was a result of your father infecting her? Could he not have just succumbed to the need to love his wife as a man, rather than as a dhampir? Can you honestly say your mother’s passing came as a result of your father’s lust for blood, or did she simply die from complications of childbirth as so many women do? It is not as if either subject would be discussed with a young boy of twelve, as you were when Georgiana was born, nor a young man of sixteen, as you were when Lady Anne passed.”
Again, Darcy seemed surprised by her viewpoint. He knew of his parents’ affection prior to their marriage; he heard it spoken of by all who knew them in those days, but after experiencing his own moments of lust as a young man, he imagined how his father had seduced the innocent Lady Anne, and he felt a certain repugnance for the man.“Do you believe it possible, Elizabeth?”
“I know nothing of the man other than his reputation as a kind
A bit discomfited by how her analysis contradicted everything he had believed about his parents’ relationship, Darcy interrupted with his own angle.“With such logic, am I to believe that your mother’s renowned silliness speaks of the type of person you will become?”
“You are to believe that my mother’s hysterics are those of a woman doing all she can to ensure that her five daughters are well situated because society denies them what should be theirs.Will I move heaven and earth to protect my children in any way possible? I warrant it, Mr. Darcy.The basic premise is that Lady Anne could have left your father—and under the circumstance, he would have allowed it—but she chose to keep his secret and nurture the relationship. Can I envision a woman giving her body and soul to the man she loves? The answer is a resounding yes.”
Darcy’s gaze now rested purely on his wife. “Then you want this?” His voice told of shame and desire and hope.
“Yes, Fitzwilliam. With all my heart, I want whatever Fate brings us. I cannot imagine anything worse than what we have already faced.” Elizabeth’s chin rose in defiance. “I never agreed to be a part of your life because I desired your position in society or your wealth. I would love Fitzwilliam Darcy even if he were a simple cottager.”
A curious spasm of guilt flexed his jaw line, and Elizabeth watched silently as he clenched and unclenched his right fist. “What if I do not agree, Elizabeth? What then? Will you leave me? You must know by now, I am not of the nature to be coerced into doing something I choose not to do.”
“Neither am I, Fitzwilliam,” she warned, “so please make no ultimatums we will both regret later.”
“Then tell me what are my options, Elizabeth. I do not see where being married to one of the richest men in England can be such a deterrent; obviously, Pemberley is superior to your situation at Longbourn.” Darcy offered more than any woman with similar connections could hope to achieve; he thought that should be worth something.
“Do—do not,” she stammered, “do not twist this into a fight about position and social standing. I love you,” she asserted. “I chose you over my family. Does that not prove my depth of affection? Yet it is not a competition to see who loves whom more. It is not a matter of sacrificing ourselves for our union.”
Again a long silence wafted over them. “I will give up my powers and not practice them ever again.”
“And that changes things how?” she demanded.
“If I do not use my powers, then we will not deal with age differences.” He thought it a fair compromise.
Elizabeth’s frustration exploded. She snatched up her reticule from the bed. “You may be only one of the richest men in England, Fitzwilliam, but you wear the crown as the most infuriating and stubborn one!” Darcy’s heart clutched as she slammed the hotel door and stormed away.
Thirty minutes later, Darcy found her having tea in one of the corners of the hotel’s sitting room. As the hours for supper service were well under way, Darcy was unsure how to approach her. “Elizabeth,” he said as he came up behind her,“may I escort you to the dining room?”
She stood and took his proffered arm.“Thank you, Fitzwilliam.”
The difference between the woman who had offered him strong condemnations less than an hour earlier and the amiable woman seated next to him now kept Darcy on edge. He expected that, at any moment, Elizabeth would return to the subject of their argument, but nothing happened. Instead, they talked of books they read and changes for Pemberley. It reminded Darcy of the
“Thank you, Elizabeth,” he leaned close to whisper.
Yet she did not respond with a retort or an acceptance. Again, Darcy felt fear in the pit of his stomach; it was not like Elizabeth to give up so easily. Did he not tell Wickham he did not have enough followers to stop her if she set her mind to a task? She is more than either of us can handle.
“Are you ready to return to our room?” he asked politely.
“I believe so. I find I am tired.” Darcy remained wary. He thought they might revisit their earlier confrontation when they were once again behind closed doors.
Together they returned to the room. Darcy ordered a bath, and they sat in front of the fire while the hotel staff filled the copper tub with hot water.“If you do not mind, Fitzwilliam, I would like to go first.”
“Of course not. Let me unlace you.” Darcy stood to assist with the back of her dress. The nape of Elizabeth’s neck tempted him again, but still unsure of what his wife would do, Darcy chose to ignore it this time. “I will enjoy a brandy while you relax in the warm water.”
Once she was free of the clothing’s fasteners, Elizabeth stepped behind a screen to undress. Darcy saw the silhouette: the roundness of her hips and the perfect symmetry of her figure, and he gulped his drink, pushing away his desire. He felt lecherous watching Elizabeth without her knowledge, but he was loath to look away. He listened as she hummed a ballad—the water faintly lapping against the tub in the background. He knew exactly what she looked like reclining in the tub, with the soapy water caressing her breasts, and he felt himself go hard with the memories.
The sound of her getting out of the water signaled his own ablutions, so he removed his jacket and boots while she toweled dry. He was unbuttoning his waistcoat when Elizabeth appeared from behind the screen. Darcy quit breathing. She wore nothing but a slight blush and a smile. Her damp hair cascaded down her back and across her shoulders. Darcy had no idea how long he
So aroused that he did not believe he could take any more, Darcy swallowed the need bubbling in his chest and made himself walk away from her. Behind the screen, he unbuttoned the flap of his breeches. “Bloody hell,” he murmured. Normally, he preferred his bath water hot, but tonight he prayed it was icy cold.
When he had finally regained his composure, Darcy climbed from the tub and dried off. He donned a nightshirt and put his toiletries away, stalling before he joined Elizabeth in bed. He hoped she had fallen asleep waiting for him. Finishing up a quick shave, he paused, thinking about what she had said.Was he right in denying Elizabeth a chance for children of her own? He had no doubt she would make an exemplary mother. Did his father have this same argument with himself? Had his mother made the same decision as Elizabeth, deciding she would take the good with the bad? And is that not what every marriage is—the good mixed with the bad? His mother had never seemed unhappy, except when she had begged his forgiveness for allowing the curse to continue. She had showered him and Georgiana with so much love:They were the center of her world.