Lydia said that her friend’s dance card was full for the night, and that Georgiana had informed her that she was only a little bit frightened of the crowd. “I have been good for her,” said Lydia, preening.
“Yes,” said Elizabeth. “You have. Not all good, all the time, admittedly. That stunt at the Egerton ball for instance, it was insupportable.”
Lydia scoffed. “Oh, la, you never have any fun, Lizzy.” But then the music changed and she was off to dance with some fellow named Mr. Martin.
Towards the end of the night, Elizabeth finally found time to dance herself, in the arms of her husband.
“You have done a wonderful job here tonight,” Mr. Darcy said, smiling at her with a smile that she had noticed he did not smile at anyone but her. It was her own special smile, and she had come to like it very much.
“Thank you,” she said. She thought about the quick kiss they had shared recently, and she wanted another like that, or perhaps one that was even longer and deeper. She had very much enjoyed kissing Mr. Darcy.
“I suppose you are exhausted,” he said. “All of this must have taken it out of you.”
“Well, I am not going to fall over,” she said. “Not yet. I should hope to be able to wait until the guests have left.”
“But after?” he said. “Then you will fall over?”
She laughed. “Likely so, yes.”
“Then I must enjoy you while I have you,” he said and tightened his grip on her.
* * *
In another part of the ballroom, Jane and Colonel Fitzwilliam could not stop themselves from gazing at each other all night. But he did not come to ask her to dance. Indeed, he did not ask anyone to dance. He stayed in his corner and glowered at her, as if he was angry that she existed.
For her part, she tried to ignore him, but found she could not. And when one gentleman asked her to dance, she told him that she was not feeling up to dancing at all, which meant that she would not be able to dance for the rest of the night, because it was dreadfully rude to refuse a gentleman. She thought, though, that she would tell all propriety to go and hang itself if the colonel had come and asked her to dance.
But he didn’t.
He watched her, yearning for her, feeling unsettled and anxious.
She watched him, yearning just as strongly.
And when the ball was over, they both went home with an untapped well of desire within them.
In fact, nearly everyone was left a bit wanting, except Georgiana, who felt like a fairy princess the entire evening and went to sleep thinking it had been the best night of her whole life.
Lydia went to bed wishing that more men had asked to dance with her. She had been left sitting on the sidelines far too often for her liking.
Miss Thackerey went to bed wishing that the ball had been over hours earlier. She was exhausted and she found that she preferred reading to balls. She looked into the future as the companion of Georgiana and knew that she would be attending ever so many more dances, and probably being tired at all of them.
Mr. Darcy paced in his bedchamber, wondering if he should have been more specific when he asked his wife if she was exhausted. Perhaps if he’d made it more plain that he wanted to be with her, she would have responded differently. Truthfully, he had been rabid for her since that first ball, since their conversation in the carriage, when he had felt things between them had finally become better.
Over the past few weeks, his affection and desire for her had only grown. He had watched her as she put her own special spin on the household, as she really came into her own as the mistress of everything, and he felt that he loved her now more than he had when he proposed. All the time in between, when he had been unsure of his attraction, that had faded—had been obliterated, in fact. He adored Elizabeth, and he wanted to go to her bedchamber now and crawl under the sheets with her, wrap his arms around her and kiss her until she moaned his name.
But she had said that she was tired. He must wait.
Meanwhile, in her own bedchamber, Elizabeth lay in bed, thinking about going to Mr. Darcy’s chamber herself. She thought of the way he had looked at her while they were dancing, and it had made her feel shivery all over. She thought of simply going and knocking on his door and asking for a kiss.
He would not deny her that, would he?
No, she hoped he would sweep her into the room and pull her into his arms, and kiss her positively silly. She wouldn’t even mind if some of those things that she had seen in that book in Pemberley happened. Not some of the strange acrobatic ones, of course, but some of them, well, they looked nice. She thought they might feel very nice too.
Thinking about it made her feel warm all over, but especially between her thighs, and she resolved that she was going to get up out of bed and go to her husband. It was ridiculous, after all, that they had been married for so long and had not yet consummated their marriage.
But she was nervous and frightened.
What if he thought her dreadfully forward? What if he found her actions inappropriate? She wasn’t sure if wives were supposed to seem eager for it. She thought it might be indecorous if they were.
She would have to wait for him to come to her.
Yes. She must wait.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The next morning at breakfast, Elizabeth came down frightfully late, expecting the dining room to be mostly cleared of food. But it turned out that everyone had slept in, and the food looked as if it hadn’t been touched. Mr. Darcy was there, only he was not dressed. He was in his banyan, and he had not yet shaved. He had a dark shadow over his chin and above his lips. Elizabeth liked the way it changed his face. It made him look rugged and different, and it made her body twitch. She wanted to touch his face, but she didn’t dare.
“Good morning,” said Mr. Darcy, smiling at her as she came in.
She smiled at him too. And then, pulled as if by some outside force, she lurched across the room to him. He was sitting at the table, a book open next to his breakfast plate, looking so leisurely that it was almost sinful. She stopped next to him and did what she wanted to do, ran her fingers over the stubble on his chin.
Oh! It was prickly.
She giggled.
He laughed. “What are you doing?” His voice was a growl.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Truly, I don’t. Have I offended you?”
“Dreadfully,” he said, and then he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her into his lap.
She shrieked.
He laughed again, and then they were kissing, just like the time in the morning room. No, not like the time in the morning room. This kiss lasted longer, and this time his mouth was open, and his tongue touched hers and he tasted of coffee and she wrapped her hands around his neck and—
“Oh, Lord!”
Elizabeth leaped off of Darcy’s lap, mortified.
Lydia was in the doorway.
Darcy was on his feet too. His face was red.
Elizabeth knew hers was too. “Lydia, don’t you knock?”
“At the dining room door?” said Lydia, smirking. “I suppose you’ll want me to come back later? But how shall I ever eat here again?”
“That’s enough,” said Elizabeth.
Darcy cleared his throat. He looked at the ceiling. He looked at the table. And then he sat back down.
Lydia was still giggling.
Elizabeth adjusted her dress and made her way over to the sideboard to dish herself some food.
Lydia started to say something, but Georgiana appeared in the dining room. She surveyed everyone. “What?” she said. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” said Elizabeth.
“No,” said Mr. Darcy.
Lydia giggled.
“What?” said Georgiana.
Lydia winked at Georgiana, obviously communicating to her that she would tell her all later. Elizabeth was mortified. She brought her food to the table and sat down. She didn’t look at Mr. Darcy. She didn’t look at anyone.
So
on, Lydia and Georgiana had filled their plates, and they joined them at the table.
For a long while, they all ate in silence.
Then Lydia suddenly burst out with, “There’s a masquerade ball in Cerkenwale.”
“What?” said Darcy. “That ball? Where did you hear of it?”
“I don’t know,” said Lydia. “From someone or other. I think we should all go. It sounds like a lark.”
“A masquerade?” Georgiana smiled brightly.
“No, not to that ball,” said Darcy, folding his napkin and tossing it onto the table. “That’s not a place for young ladies such as you.”
“Why not?” said Lydia.
“Lydia,” said Elizabeth. “Let us not speak of it any longer.”
Lydia sniffed.
* * *
It was just after noon, and Colonel Fitzwilliam had just met Colonel Arthurs in Primrose Park, after previously arranging it. Colonel Arthurs was a similar man to himself, in that he was the son of a titled man. The fourth son of a baron, in fact. He never had any thought of getting any money from his father, but his father had been good enough to purchase his commission for him.
Like Fitzwilliam, Arthurs had intended to find himself a wife of means so that he could continue living his chosen lifestyle. However, fate had intervened when he’d fallen for the daughter of one of the brigadiers, who had not much in the way of a dowry. However, as far as Fitzwilliam knew, the two were cheerily living together and now had three children, all of whom also seemed chubby and rosy-cheeked.
“Well, ask away,” said Arthurs as the two walked together through the park. “What is it that you wish to know?”
“I don’t mean to be rude,” said Fitzwilliam. “I know that such things are often not spoken of in polite society. Money is paramount, and yet it is dreadful to speak overmuch of it.”
“Yes, yes,” chuckled Arthurs. “But men like us, who were raised in luxury and then pushed out of the nest to live on our own, we have quite the knowledge of both worlds.”
“We do,” said Fitzwilliam.
“I suppose you are asking me this because you have interest in a woman who is not of the financial stratum that you had planned.”
“Is it that obvious?”
“I can’t think of any other reason why you might bring up the subject,” said Arthurs. “So, as I said, ask me what you will.”
“I don’t even know what to ask,” said Fitzwilliam. “Is it… is it difficult?”
“Is what difficult?”
“Supporting your family on your salary?”
Arthurs considered. “Well, there are luxuries that are out of my grasp, yes. But ever since I left my father’s roof, they have been, and so I have not found that I missed them.”
“True enough,” said Fitzwilliam.
“The children are adored and coddled by their grandparents,” said Arthurs. “They want for nothing. And we are still invited to dinners and the like. It is not as if we are shut out from society.”
“Quite.” Fitzwilliam nodded.
“And my wife, she is not dissatisfied with her station in life. She is quite happy with what we have, and she does not wish for more. I think, if I had married a woman for her money, she might have grown to resent me. We would never have been on equal footing, so to speak. But with my Anna, there is none of that.”
“So, there is no strain between you?”
“Well, I cannot deny that when finances are tight, it can put a strain on a marriage. I have made a few poor decisions, especially sometimes gambling with the other officers. That has not pleased her. But she has never been the one in the wrong, if you take my meaning.”
“Women so rarely are.”
“Isn’t that the truth.” Arthurs chuckled.
Fitzwilliam stopped walking, putting his hands in his pockets. “I suppose it is all possible.”
“Yes,” said Arthurs.
“Let me ask you another question. And perhaps this is only something that a blackguard like me might struggle with.”
“You are not a blackguard.”
“Do you ever resent her?”
Arthurs raised his eyebrows. He hesitated.
Fitzwilliam waited.
“I was about to say no,” said Arthurs. “Because I would rather believe that is true. And, indeed, most of the time, it is true. But I must say that there have been times here and there, when I have had a dark thought. But when I see my children, that is what takes that thought all away. I love them more than life, and she is the one who gave them to me. I cannot resent my own babes’ mother, can I?”
“No, I suppose not.” Fitzwilliam smiled at him.
“Definitely not,” said Arthurs. He clapped the other colonel on the back. “You’ll figure it out, old boy. I know you will. In the end, you’ll know what’s right for you.”
* * *
Georgiana squinted at the music in front of her on the piano. She had been playing this piece over and over this morning, and she was beginning to grow sick of it, but she didn’t dare say so, because she had begged to be allowed to have more time to play the piano this morning. Piano was preferable to Latin, which Miss Thackerey was trying to teach her and Lydia.
Lydia was hopeless with Latin. She kept copying Georgiana’s translations, much to the chagrin of Miss Thackerey. Georgiana understood the language. It was like French. Only more difficult. She would rather not learn any more Latin, though. She felt she’d had quite enough of it. What she would rather do was to plan out all the balls she would be attending now that she was of age and out in society.
But Miss Thackerey didn’t seem to enjoy any talking of balls at all, more’s the pity.
The door opened and Lydia was there.
“Lydia!” said Georgiana. “I thought you were drawing.”
“I was,” said Lydia. “But I got bored, and I thought I would come and find you. Are you truly going to play piano all morning?”
“I feel as though I must or else we shall both have to translate more Latin. Or worse, conjugate verbs.”
The two girls both made a face at each other at the thought.
Lydia slid onto the piano bench next to her. “I’ve been thinking.”
“About what?”
“About the masquerade ball in Cerkenwale,” said Lydia.
“But my brother said we could not go.”
“Your brother is so dull,” said Lydia.
Georgiana had to giggle at that. “Well, yes, he is. Very dull.”
“We found our way to the Egerton Ball,” said Lydia. “We can go to this one on our own as well.”
“But that was different,” said Georgiana. “No one was in the house except Miss Thackerey, and you know she likes to go to bed early. We only had to sneak around the servants. And besides, it was scarcely a block away. We could walk. This ball is quite far. We would need a carriage.”
“And why shouldn’t we use your brother’s carriage? He has already said that he won’t be using it, and that we can’t attend the ball.”
“Yes, and I wonder why that is. If my brother thinks it is not a place for us—”
“Oh, your brother is the enemy of fun. He likely would not let us go anywhere.”
“To go on our own, though, Lydia, it is shocking. And how will we get the carriage, anyway?”
“Oh, leave that to me. I can handle a few stable hands, I assure you.”
“I don’t know,” said Georgiana. “I simply don’t know.”
Lydia took both of Georgiana’s hands. “Listen, Georgiana, do you remember the way things were when I met you?”
Georgiana nodded. “Of course I do. I was terrified of my own shadow. I was too frightened to speak to anyone.”
“And how did we conquer all that?”
“By facing each fear one at a time.”
“Why?”
“Because fear is the enemy of life.”
“Yes, and I want to live every second that I can, and I don’t want to miss any opportunities.�
��
“Nor do I.”
“Missing this ball is missing an opportunity.”
“Is it truly? Because it’s not as though I’m afraid to go, you know. I am only concerned—”
“Concern? Fear? What’s the difference? We are going to the ball. Are you with me?”
Georgiana hesitated, and then a smile spread over her face. “All right. I’m with you. It will be dreadfully exciting to sneak out under their noses, won’t it?”
“Dreadfully,” said Lydia.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
The night of the ball that Lydia and Georgiana had planned to sneak out and attend, the girls were more silent than usual at dinner.
Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy did not notice, however, because they were too busy making eyes at each other across the table. Elizabeth could not stop thinking about the kiss that they had shared the other morning at breakfast. She had wanted that kiss again, for that kiss to start and never end, but the ensuing days had been busy and tiring and there had been no time for them to be alone again.
She knew that Mr. Darcy was anxious to spend time with her too, because he had taken her aside that afternoon and asked if she had any pressing business that evening. She had assured him that the household was quite back in order after Georgiana’s ball, and that she had nothing at all to attend to.
“Ah,” he’d said, “well, then, perhaps we shall use the evening to rest.”
“Rest, sir?” She had not understood what he was after.
“Yes,” he said. “After all, the bed in my chamber is quite comfortable. I think if the two of us retired there early together…”
“Oh, indeed,” she said, giggling a little. “A capital idea, husband.”
“I thought so,” he said, winking. “Wife.”
She liked hearing the word come out of his mouth. It made her shivery all over. To think, she had once been concerned that her marriage to Mr. Darcy would be devoid of love and passion. Now, she felt as if the air was bursting with it whenever they were together.
She fully intended to make her way to Mr. Darcy’s bedroom immediately after dinner. She would excuse herself from Georgiana and Lydia, complaining of a headache, and he would be waiting for her. They had planned it all out.
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