“My uncle would be a fool to show his face, then.”
He bestowed a kiss to her hairline. “He has hidden himself well. I do not believe he will emerge from his refuge willingly.”
She nodded with a relieved air. Then she caught his eye and raised her eyebrows, which he had learned indicated a desire to kiss him. He loved that expression. It was rivalled only by the dreamy look she had after a kiss.
“You do not wish to discuss your uncle anymore?”
“No, for it is worrisome, and I should much prefer something pleasant to occupy our time.”
“Do you wish to play cards?” he asked with mock innocence.
A mischievous smile lit upon her face, and she shook her head.
“We could play chess or backgammon?”
She blushed to the roots of her hair. “Kiss me, Fitzwilliam.”
He grinned and drew her closer to touch his lips to hers. He deepened the kiss and Elizabeth responded by pressing herself against him, soon finding themselves quite entangled.
She had one hand in his hair, while the other was pressed against his lower back. His lips had long since left hers and were poised at her bosom while he pulled her as close as possible.
How he had refrained from taking her in the last fortnight was beyond his comprehension. She had slept in his embrace every night, but he had managed to limit their interludes to kissing.
A loud groan erupted from his chest, and he gathered her up into his arms, taking a seat on the sofa with her astride him. His shaky fingers caressed a wisp of a curl from in front of her fine eyes. Every facet of his bride’s appearance was stunning—face flushed, lips slightly swollen, hair falling from its pins. If only a portrait could be painted of her like this—but he could never abide another man seeing her in such a state.
Elizabeth leaned forward and brushed her lips against his, while she stared into his eyes. The body that lay beneath her clothes beckoned to him, and the pull was too intense to ignore. He reached back to unbutton her gown and pushed the garment away until it was bunched at her waist. Her stays were removed and tossed to the floor, the delicate ribbons of her chemise were loosened without care, and the thin material wrested to the side revealing one flawless breast.
He was entranced by the part of her that had been, until that moment, a mystery to him. His hand rose to gently touch, but Elizabeth began to work loose his cravat before his fingertips could meet the soft, exposed flesh. He helped her remove his topcoat as well as his waistcoat; however, before his fine lawn shirt could be pulled over his head, she stopped and stared, tracing her fingers down his neck to the indention of his collarbone where she threaded them through the hair that peeked out of the opening.
His lips claimed hers without restraint as he ran a hand into the opening of her chemise. His palm cupped her breast where he began to knead the firm flesh with his fingers.
He did not need to gaze upon her to know she was perfect. Not that he did not want to memorize in detail every inch of her like she was a fine work of art. Whatever scars or imperfection she had did not mar her in his view. They were a part of her—a part of her beauty.
“You are exquisite.” His lips moved to her neck as his thumb brushed the soft peak. At the sound of her sharp inhale, his arousal heightened.
They had barely begun anything, and she had already made things impossible for him with her constant shifting. Her small vocalisations were another problem. She had to have no idea what they did to him. How could he possibly stop? The door was not locked, and they were not even in the vicinity of their rooms. What if someone entered?
He peeked at her face and her eyes met his. Holding her gaze, he reached over to bestow a small kiss to her nipple. No objection escaped her lips, so he gently suckled. Her expression was one of surprise, but her hand tightened until she had a painful grip in his hair, which prompted him to continue his explorations. He received a throaty moan, in response, which was music to his ears, and he rejoiced as she pulled his head closer to her chest.
He pulled away and pressed a small kiss to her mouth. “Does that feel good?”
She nodded as he ran a hand down the side of her face. “If there is something you find objectionable, then you must tell me. I want you to always be honest with me.” He spoke low, but she was attentive to every word.
“You have always been a perfect gentleman. I trust you to be honest with me, too—especially, in this.”
Her voice was uneasy as she spoke, so he paused, aware she was relying on him to guide her. Most young women had a mother or aunt to talk with them before their wedding. Elizabeth had no one.
“You have no reason to be uncomfortable.” He brushed her hair back from her face, and his lips caressed her temple until they reached her ear while she angled her head to bring him closer. “Nothing pleases me more than hearing the noises you make when we are like this.”
Heat radiated from her cheek, and he nuzzled his way to her collarbone, then further down to her chest. Her chemise was shifted to reveal her other breast, so he could repeat the attentions he gave to the other side.
Elizabeth was panting heavily, a small high pitch sound coming with every exhale. When he released her nipple and buried his face in her cleavage, breathing deeply, she was still clinging to his head.
The pain of her tugging on his hair was nothing, because in all his memory, he had never had an erection so painful, and as much as he wished to release it and finish what they had begun, he knew he could not. Elizabeth deserved better.
He had just reached to bestow one last soft kiss to her lips, when a knock interrupted him. They both startled and stared at one another.
Elizabeth’s eyes were like saucers, and he had to restrain his amusement while he began to tie the delicate pink ribbons on her chemise. “Who is it?” he called loudly.
“It is Mr. Shaw, sir. A letter was delivered for you.” Darcy withheld a groan of disappointment.
Elizabeth lifted herself from his lap to grab her stays, wrapped them around her, and turned so he could lace and tie them.
“Mr. Darcy?” they heard the butler call through the heavy oak of the door.
She looked frantically over her shoulder, and he gestured to his still present erection. “I cannot open it,” he whispered.
Her eyes darted to his trousers. “Neither can I, but is the door locked?”
“Mr. Shaw, please slide the letter under the door.” The statement was made in as normal and in as usual a voice as he could muster, but Elizabeth bit her lip as she tried not to laugh. He pulled and tightened the laces—please do not let me lace them incorrectly! The last thing he wanted was for his wife to be embarrassed when her maid helped her change for dinner.
“Oh… Yes, sir,” called Mr. Shaw. The letter appeared on their side of the door as it slid underneath.
“Thank you!” Darcy collected the missive, noting it was from his sister, and placed it in his pocket; he was not in the proper frame of mind at the present moment.
He turned his attention back to Elizabeth, who had been unable to hold in her mirth any longer, and burst into gales of laughter. The sound of his amusement soon joined hers and they both took seats on the sofa. As they brought themselves under control, Elizabeth drew out her handkerchief and wiped her eyes.
He gestured towards her skirt. “Would you like me to help you with your gown?”
“Oh, yes, thank you.” She pivoted, so he could fasten the row of tiny buttons. When he was finished, she settled against the back of the seat and curled her legs under her skirt.
“Who sent the letter?”
He leaned his head against the sofa, and she began to brush his curls back from his face. He closed his eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation of her fingers as they ran through his hair. She continued her occupation, and he did not move or speak for fear she would stop.
“Fitzwilliam,” she said with a giggle. “Who sent the letter?”
“Oh… Georgiana.”
“You are
not curious to know what she has to say?” How relaxed he had become with her touch! She had always enjoyed when Jane combed her fingers through her hair and it was clear her husband found contentment in it as well.
He fidgeted in his pocket and pulled the note out, presenting it to her. “I cannot read it whilst you are doing that. Perhaps you could read it aloud?”
“Are you certain?” she asked, surprised. “I would not wish to intrude.”
“Georgiana turns fourteen this month. Her letters are usually about Pemberley, her horse, and the pianoforte. Besides, there is nothing I wish to hide from you.”
She bit her lip as she beamed with pleasure. He had become so open with her lately, sharing so much more of himself. She had fallen in love with him over the course of their wedding trip, but had kept the knowledge to herself. A part of her was screaming to tell him, but what if he did not say those precious words back? She would be unable to hide the disappointment if he failed to reciprocate her adoration. Her only other option was to wait and pray that he would one day have the same passion for her.
The seal on the letter broke easily, and she opened the page, noting that his sister had a neat and even handwriting for one so young. He laid his head in her lap, and she laughed at the dimpled grin on his face as she stroked his locks with her free hand.
“28 May, 1810
Pemberley, Derbyshire
Dear Fitzwilliam,
I was pleased to receive your response to my last letter this morning. Mrs. Reynolds has been instrumental in ensuring I am able to post my letters and that I receive yours. Thus far, I do not think father suspects, but I do not believe we should enlist Grandmamma unless it is necessary. I would not wish to give father further reason to dislike her.
Thank you for describing Mrs. Darcy. She sounds delightful and accomplished. How I wish things were different, so I could meet her face to face! It would be so wonderful to have a sister to accompany me riding around Pemberley or to play a duet. Please do not think I am disappointed in only having a brother! I have always enjoyed your company, but I have longed for a sister for some time. I do hope she will like me!
“I cannot imagine not liking one as kind and agreeable as she is. I hope your father does not discover your correspondence. Would he be terribly angry?”
“Father will be angry, but his ire never lasts long towards Georgiana. I believe she reminds him too much of my mother. He is also aware of her tender heart. She rarely misbehaves, but when she does, it is usually for the best of reasons.”
“Then she is very unlike me when I was that age.”
He opened an eye to peek in her direction. “Were you forever in trouble?”
“No, not always. My mother was never sure how to make me behave like a girl—those were her words.”
He frowned as he gazed at her. “You by no means resemble a boy.”
“She claimed that girls did not climb trees or play swords with the boys.”
His eyebrows lifted. “You fenced?”
“I stopped by the time I was Georgiana’s age, but I still found great enjoyment in climbing trees.” He nodded and closed his eyes as she continued to comb her fingers through his hair.
“Would you please request Mrs. Darcy pen a letter to enclose in your next correspondence? I would dearly love to know her in the event we are unable to meet in person for some time. Father has said he will bring me to London in October for the benefit of the masters, and I would like to spend some time with Grandmamma whilst I am there. Perchance you can travel to London in October or November?
I look forward to letters from you and Mrs. Darcy. I do so like receiving post!
Your loving sister,
Georgiana Darcy”
“She sounds charming, Fitzwilliam. When will you send your response?”
“I think once we have returned to Sagemore. I am sure she would like to hear of the gala.”
“I am certain you are correct. I will be sure to write to her as soon as we return, too.” She began to read through the letter once more on her own.
“Thank you.”
She peered down to find him staring at her. “Why do you thank me?”
“For wishing to be acquainted with my sister.”
She smiled, folded the missive, and placed it on the side table. “She is my sister now, as well. Besides, how could I not wish to correspond with her when she is so welcoming?”
“It is you who is kind.” He spoke so earnestly that she blushed at his praise. “I am glad I happened upon you in Meryton. I have come to believe we were meant to meet that day.”
“Do you?” she whispered.
His expression was so serious, so earnest it made her stomach flutter. “I do. I do not think I could be happy married to anyone but you.”
Elizabeth clung to Darcy’s arm as he escorted her towards the queue for their carriage. He had just had the most incredible evening! The gala in honour of the king’s birthday had gone off without a spot of rain, and he was certain Elizabeth had never witnessed anything so spectacular.
He had reserved a private booth outside where they dined as the musicians played on the balcony of the Sydney Hotel. The performances they had heard prior were by far superior, but the illuminations and the fireworks had been worth the time spent listening to the mediocre music.
They had been sitting in their seats when a whistle blew to queue the simultaneous lighting of the oil lamps all over the garden. It had been a breath-taking sight, and Elizabeth had grasped his arm as she gasped in delight. Then, rather than listening to the musicians, he had taken her on a walk through the garden nearby, until it was almost time for the fireworks, when he returned them to their seats.
The fireworks had been his best idea yet! He chuckled whenever she jumped at the loud explosions they made, and she marvelled it was like nothing she had ever seen before. The evening had been a great success!
Elizabeth leaned against him as he spied the carriage make its way towards them. He was anxious to return to Landsdown Crescent so she could rest. The morrow would be dedicated to packing, and they would depart the day after for Sagemore.
Bath had been worth the social discomfort he had suffered, but Elizabeth alleviated a great deal of it with her outgoing personality. He did not mind the social whirl quite so much in her company, so they had attended musical performances and the theatre often. They did avoid the Upper and Lower Rooms. He had no wish to attend any of the dances, and she confided that, while she enjoyed dancing, she was content without that diversion. He made up for his aversion to the assemblies by taking her on frequent walks through Sydney Gardens and the various parks around town, where they both took great pleasure in nature and the pleasant weather.
At the moment, she was watching the people around them.
“Elizabeth,” he said when the door to their carriage was opened.
She started. “Oh, I had not noticed it arrive.”
He handed her inside and followed, taking the seat across as propriety dictated. Once the carriage pulled from the curb and turned a corner, he closed the blinds and shifted to his usual place beside her. Her hand joined with his, and their fingers laced together. He had been about to turn in order ask her favourite part of the evening, when her head rested against his shoulder. He loved her spontaneous gestures, her natural affection.
His mother had been similar, and, since her passing, Darcy had not had someone who made him feel as loved as Elizabeth did. He buried his nose in her hair, bestowed a kiss and closed his eyes as he caught the familiar scent of orange blossoms.
The evening had been magical. He had been to Vauxhall and had seen illuminations and fireworks before, but through Elizabeth’s eyes, the experience became new once again. She watched the shows with such a wide-eyed wonder, and he enjoyed every minute of the evening in her company. The crowd had not even dampened his enjoyment.
She had also worn the gown he requested, a deep green silk with a silver embroidered trim that matched her complexio
n perfectly. With the jewellery Hattie found tucked in a drawer in Elizabeth’s dressing room, they had even managed a coordinating emerald necklace and earbobs.
“Elizabeth?”
“Hmmm?”
“I just wanted to be sure you were not falling asleep.”
He heard her soft chuckle. “No, not yet.”
“Did you enjoy the evening?”
She lifted her head and looked with concern into his eyes. “Could you not tell? I felt as if I were a child at Christmas.”
He laughed and put his arm around her, which caused her to have to adjust her head to become comfortable once more. “I suppose I just wanted to hear you say it—to tell me what part you enjoyed the most.”
“I do not know if I have a favourite part. I enjoyed everything.”
“But the music,” he commented. “You do not always ask to go for a stroll whilst the musicians are playing.”
“There were quite a few people who left to walk through the garden after the illuminations were lit.” She glanced at him with a content expression. “But you are correct. We have heard performances that far surpassed tonight.” She nestled back onto his shoulder and they continued in that attitude until they arrived at the house.
He anticipated joining his wife in her bedchamber that evening. She had not indicated she loved him, but she enjoyed the intimacy they had shared thus far. Would his wife object to him initiating more?
He took his nightshirt from James and then dismissed him for the night. The idea of finally making love to his wife for the first time had rendered him aroused, a sight he had no wish for his valet to witness. He rushed through his evening routine and donned his nightshirt and dressing gown, then when he was ready, he began pacing.
Should he try to speak with her first? Should he begin with simple kisses and let things progress from there?
An Unwavering Trust Page 19
