“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.” The butler bowed as Darcy followed the women.
Elizabeth waited patiently for Darcy’s staff to set up the tub before the fireplace and bring in the water. Then she helped Georgiana undress for a bath. Neither woman wanted a maid’s service on that
As Elizabeth slid into the warm water laced with lavender oil, the realization of what she had done finally hit her. She submerged herself in the water, needing to wash away the horror, trying to make herself clean again. How long? she wondered. How long will it take before the mental images of this ghastly incident fade?Will they ever go away? The water washed over her, caressing every inch—invading every crevice; and she wanted to stay there forever—under the water—where purity still lived.
She counted. How long could she hold her breath? What would happen when she ran out of air? Would she shrivel up like the woman in the alley? Yet no matter how much she wanted to stay under the warm water—stay where sins were washed away—Elizabeth’s body forced her to come up, gulping for air, sputtering water. She pulled her hair away from her face and wiped the water from her eyes, trying to clear her thoughts, attempting to obliterate the images lodged behind her lids.
Then Elizabeth sat quietly in the lukewarm water, fingertips stroking her lips, seeing herself from a distant vantage point, stabbing the woman—again and again.
Painstakingly, Darcy completed his own ablutions.This evening he would go without the customary cravat and jacket, and opt instead for a loose-fitting shirt and waistcoat. His appearance was the least of his worries.
He, Elizabeth, and Georgiana had survived. Needing to reassure himself, Darcy moved towards his wife’s room. The thought of what had happened that day compelled him to be where she was—confirming she was safe.
Georgiana sat sipping tea in Elizabeth’s sitting room.“Where is she?” he demanded, too consumed by his fears to be his normally polite self.
“Elizabeth is bathing.” Georgiana did not look up, and he noted that she shivered.
Her distress pained him, and Darcy leaned over to caress her face and kiss the top of his sister’s head.“I am sorry,” he whispered before he moved on to find his wife. His need to see Elizabeth immediately outweighed even his duty to comfort his sister.
The screen blocked his view, but nothing moved in the water, and Darcy momentarily wondered if she was finished and dressed. Then he heard Elizabeth break the water’s surface. A quick intake of air and a choking gulp frightened him. He rushed forward, expecting to have to pull her from the tub. But as he reached the screen’s edge, Darcy held back. Elizabeth swept her hair from her face. Ringlets of auburn curls streamed down her back, but his wife did not move. Elizabeth sat in the cooling water, lost in thought.
Darcy could not disturb her. Instead, he enjoyed the view of Elizabeth’s nude body—the curve of her spine and the perfect swell of her hips.
Then Elizabeth began to sob.At first, he thought to let her have her cry—but then she purposefully submerged herself again. Her limbs twitched as Elizabeth mourned for someone she had not known, and she opened her mouth to let the sorrow out. Water rushed in, and Darcy moved immediately to halt her madness.
Hands reached into the tub, lifting her from a watery grave. She choked, coughed violently, and spit water. Darcy firmly pounded on her back, forcing her to spew the last of the liquid. Then he pulled her to her feet, and, immediately, Elizabeth felt the warmth of a large towel surround her before Darcy lifted her from the tub.
Elizabeth tried to swallow—to clear the burn from her throat—to say something to him—but all she could do was to cough again before leaning against his chest—into his love—into his protection.
“I have you,” he murmured as he took another towel to help dry her.“I will never let you go.”
Elizabeth nodded, unable to speak, but thankful for the strength of his arms.
“Do not leave me, Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered close to her ear. “I cannot live without you.” Elizabeth nodded mutely. Darcy sat in
“Never,” she said as she kissed his lips, eager to be a part of him.
CHAPTER 15
Darcy lost track of how long he held her to him.The damp towel slid away from her back, and he knew nothing but the feel of Elizabeth’s skin on his fingertips. He caressed the smoothness of her spine, leaving a trail of fire along the curve of her back. “Fitzwilliam, ” she whispered as she showered feathery kisses along his chin line.
Darcy’s hands searched her body, needing desperately to possess her in every way. “You are exquisite,” he murmured as her body arched into his hand. The back of his hand brushed against her breast, and her nipple hardened instantly. “I want to make you mine,” he groaned.
“I want to be yours, Fitzwilliam,” she breathed.
Elizabeth’s surrender was a red flag. Darcy loosened his embrace, but he did not withdraw.“How—how could I?” he stammered. “How could I take the chance of turning my darling …my darling Elizabeth into the kind of beast we met today?” He lightly stroked her chin as he spoke, captivated by her nearness and appalled at what he desired.
“There is no way…no way our passion could produce evil,” she declared.
“My loveliest Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered. He traced her lips, wishing to return to them and to drink his fill.“What we possess is pure, so pure I cannot destroy it to satisfy my hunger.”
Darcy read the disappointment written on her face. He wondered for a moment if Elizabeth might actually love him. They never spoke of love—at least, not between them. Their story to everyone else was one of undying love for each other, but he and Elizabeth had never said such words. Did he love Elizabeth? Since he had met her, Darcy could not breathe unless she was close. his Elizabeth. Even though it was selfish of him,—for she deserved better—Darcy had never been happier since the day Elizabeth had appeared before him at the Meryton assembly. Aloud, he said,“It is time to dress for dinner, Elizabeth.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth blushed, pulling the towel closer to cover her nakedness. She tried to scramble to her feet, but Darcy caught her to him again.
“You know that your wishes are my own.” He kissed the top of her head, while playing with one of the rapidly drying ringlets of her hair.
Elizabeth sighed, as if accepting her fate. “We tarried too long.” Her voice held sadness, and Darcy felt his heart lurch with self-contempt.
Elizabeth moved away quickly.“I will need someone to lace my dress; possibly Georgiana would favor me.” She did not look back at him; he was too tempting. Instead, she slipped behind another screen to don her undergarments.
“I will send Georgiana in.” Darcy’s eyes followed his wife’s retreat. It hurt to think he embarrassed her with his actions. He needed to get his emotions under control; yet unfortunately, where Elizabeth was concerned, he showed little restraint.
As she stepped behind the screen, Elizabeth’s distress was acute. Her hands shook and her knees nearly buckled. When she was near Darcy, she surrendered to her basic need for him. His touch—his well-being—only those things possessed her. Is this love?
She was married to one of the wealthiest men in England. She had exceeded everyone’s highest expectations, but she wanted more. Elizabeth wanted Darcy’s heart. I love him. Elizabeth wanted Darcy to love her as much as she surely loved him.