“But I will have no milk for the child!”
“We will employ a wet nurse,” he said. “Choose a son or a daughter; I do not care.We can repeat the process again in a year or two. How many children would you like? I considered two, but a half dozen would make me even happier.”
“You wish me to miraculously have six children?” Elizabeth wondered aloud.
“We will need to come up with creative tales, but I have no doubt we can do so.”
“Georgiana’s children would be denied their birthright with such a ruse.”
“My sister has a large dowry. She will marry well, and her family will not suffer. We can leave them an inheritance. Think about it. We end the curse with my passing, and the children we raise with a responsibility to the land will carry on—keeping Pemberley and my family’s legacy great.We have the resources to raise a
“What if I want my own children?”
Darcy looked serious.“Then I will swallow my pride and allow you a discreet assignation.”
“I do not want to make love with anyone but you, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth felt like screaming.
He lowered his voice to share a delicate secret. “I have been thinking about that also.There are ways, Elizabeth,…ways I could pleasure you without…without our being…together.”
What he said both embarrassed and excited Elizabeth. “I said I wanted to make love with you, Fitzwilliam,” she asserted.
“Then we will make love,Vixen. I will send for one hundred French letters.They will prevent your ability to conceive a child—or we can use treated sponges.”
Elizabeth slid off his lap and strode away from him. “I was thinking of something more intimate—something spontaneous shared between a husband and a wife.”
Darcy rose to his feet to follow her. Coming up behind her, he started to embrace her, but then thought better of it. “Elizabeth, do you not understand?” His voice sounded calm, but his hunched shoulders and taut expression said otherwise. “It can be however we want it to be.We will name our own terms.”
“This is madness!” Elizabeth threw up her hands in exasperation. “What have you done with my sane and sensible husband?” She started for the door.
“Please, Elizabeth,…I am begging you,” he called after her.
Elizabeth stopped suddenly and whirled around to face him. “Begging? That is not begging, Fitzwilliam.That is demanding—it is manipulating!”And she strode off.
She was nearly to the door when his voice, so soft and so full of grief and pleading, froze her in her place.“This is begging.”
Elizabeth turned and the sight of her proud, powerful husband on his knees immediately brought tears to her eyes. She looked on in silence.“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” she sighed before rushing forward and dropping to her own knees in front of him; her arms encircled his
Darcy made the decision the moment she stormed for the door. He would do anything to keep her with him. Their weeks together were the only joy he could remember. Elizabeth offered paradise; without her, there was no hope—no happiness.
For Elizabeth, the sight of Darcy on his knees ripped her heart in two. She knew him—knew what it cost her husband to beg her to agree. She also knew deep in her heart she could never deny him. She existed only to please him—to worship the man she embraced. Darcy pleaded in supplication for her agreement, and Elizabeth met his prayers with those of her own.
The next two days unfolded blissfully; they were some of the best of his eight and twenty years. Nothing troubled the exquisite serenity. He rode out with his steward to inspect several of the storage barns for possible repair, settled a tenant dispute over property lines, and listened to the new vicar’s plea for a village school. In the early afternoon of the second day, Darcy sat with Georgiana at the pianoforte while she practiced a new piece, even joining her on the more difficult parts.They then played several duets.
At night, although they still did not consummate their marriage, he held Elizabeth close and indulged in new intimacies. He knew it was only a matter of time and of trust before they knew the full range of pleasure. He once again experienced her femininity, as Elizabeth now playfully called it. In fact, he left a distinctive red mark at the base of her neck—his badge of love. Surprisingly, she returned the favor, seductively nibbling at the nape of his neck, leaving a raw place, which nearly drove him insane with passion.
She sat in a winged chair looking out over the prospect, attempting to embroider a handkerchief for Darcy, but Elizabeth’s mind rested purely on the man himself. It might shock him to realize that she found his laugh soulful—and addictive. She would do anything to make him laugh out loud. Her husband was a tall, supremely
“Ah, there you are,” the image spoke from behind her, and Elizabeth turned her head slowly to look into ocean blue eyes, the kind in which one could drown.
Elizabeth shook her head to rid herself of the vision and focus on Darcy’s countenance as he approached.“Do you need me, Sir?”
A smile turned up the corners of his mouth.“I always need you, Elizabeth.” Darcy’s voice warmed her as much as his smile did. “Actually, I thought we might share a walk; the sun warms the day.”
Elizabeth scrambled to her feet. “I would enjoy just that. Wait while I find a pelisse and a scarf.
“I will be in my study when you are ready.” She started past him and then stopped suddenly to caress his cheek before hurrying on her way.Watching the sway of her hips as she left the room, Darcy chuckled. Elizabeth’s spontaneity gave life to his household.
“I am ready,” she announced as she bounded into the room a quarter hour later. Seeing Darcy deep in thought, reading a letter, she paused close to his desk. Unable to interpret his expression, she asked,“Bad news?”
“Not exactly,” he mumbled, but did not put the letter down.“It is from Miss Bingley.”
“Caroline Bingley?” Elizabeth sat down suddenly. “Is it to do with Mr. Bingley?”
Darcy looked up, hearing the anxiety in her voice. “No,” he tried to assure her. “I suppose it is Caroline’s congratulations upon our marriage.” He tucked the letter into an envelope. Then he opened his desk drawer and placed the letter inside.
Elizabeth recognized how Darcy avoided speaking the truth.“I am sure Miss Bingley extended no such feelings towards me.Wishing me congratulations after I stole the prize upon which she had set her heart is unlikely.”
Darcy’s eyes sparkled. “The prize? Shall I consider myself so worthy?” he half teased.
“I am certain Miss Bingley held you, my Husband, in high regard. As for me, I took pity on you; as I recall, you were quite insensate.” She lifted her chin in challenge.
“I suspect I was.” Darcy winked at her. “Thank you for your humanity, my love.”
“Well, tell me.” Elizabeth sat back in her chair, straightening the seams of her outer garments. “I must hear of Miss Bingley’s felicitations.”
“Are you confident that you wish to hear what she writes?” Darcy leaned back, retrieving the letter from the desk.“It will likely give you some offense. Miss Bingley often lacks tact.”
Elizabeth took a position—straight-backed and haughty, even defiant. “There is little Miss Bingley could say that would surprise me.”
“I never doubted your lack of surprise, but I would not intentionally give you displeasure, Elizabeth. Some parts of the letter will annoy you, at the least.”
“I would still prefer to hear it, Fitzwilliam.”
Darcy sighed with resignation.“If you wish, my love.”
23 December