Pledged to Mr Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  “I must say, I have to agree,” said Miss Thackerey. “Miss Darcy would never have even thought to have done such a thing before meeting Miss Bennet.”

  “Yes,” agreed Darcy. “But then she wouldn’t have had the courage to even speak to a person she did not know. Why, under Miss Lydia’s tutelage, she danced with many men at her coming-out ball, and she enjoyed herself. I hardly think we can only credit ill to Miss Lydia’s influence.”

  Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “You don’t have to be kind because she is my sister.”

  “She is my sister, too,” said Mr. Darcy. “We are all family here. I married you, Mrs. Darcy, and I am connected to you and yours forever. Now, I do believe there will be punishment.” He looked at Georgiana. “For both of you.” He turned back to Lydia. “But I don’t think you should be sent away. You shall serve your sentence here under my roof.”

  “Oh,” said Lydia. She bit down on her lip. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

  “You haven’t heard what the punishment is,” said Mr. Darcy. “My wife and I will discuss it, and we shall inform you on the morrow. You may not wish to thank me after you have been informed.”

  Lydia swallowed. She nodded and cast her gaze downward again.

  “All right,” said Mr. Darcy. “Every one to bed.”

  “I shall sleep in the room with Miss Darcy,” said Miss Thackerey. “Just to make sure she stays put this time.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth. “Yes, well, perhaps Lydia should stay in my room.”

  “Oh,” said Mr. Darcy, sounding disappointed.

  Elizabeth gave him a longing look.

  He sighed. “I suppose it has been a rather tiring night. We shall all need our rest.”

  * * *

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam,” said Jane, rising to greet him. She was in the sitting room at her aunt’s house, and her aunt was sitting nearby, answering some letters. “It is good to see you.” She did not know what to make of his visit. She had thought of him nearly constantly but had not thought it was likely that he would pursue her.

  “Yes, indeed,” said her aunt. “So nice of you to come.”

  The colonel bowed to Mrs. Gardiner. “It is lovely to see you again, madam.” He took a deep breath. “I do not mean to impose upon you or make myself a nuisance, but I wonder if I might speak to Miss Bennet alone.”

  “Oh,” said Mrs. Gardiner in a different voice, giving Jane a sidelong look.

  Jane flushed, feeling as though the room had suddenly become far too warm. This couldn’t be. This could not be happening. He had made it clear to her that there was no way…

  “I shall leave the two of you to it, then,” said Mrs. Gardiner, and she left the room, smiling all the while.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam stared at the door for several long moments after she was gone.

  Jane endeavored to catch her breath.

  Finally, the colonel turned back to Jane. “So, it comes to this,” he said. “I don’t know if I can be happy and poor, but I know that I can’t bear life without you. And when I think of a life with someone who isn’t you and all the money in the world, it makes me ill. So…” He sighed. “Dash it all. This is all coming out wrong.”

  “No,” said Jane. “Please continue. I want to hear what you have to say.”

  “I meant it to sound more affectionate,” said the colonel. “It sounds as though I am saying that I only want you because the alternative is illness, but it’s not like that at all. What I mean is that you make me happy. What I mean is that you are enchanting. That you are the veritably most beautiful, most perfect woman I have ever met and that, by some miracle, you seem to be able to abide me, so I wonder…”

  “Yes?”

  “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

  Jane’s heart skipped a beat. And then she laughed. “I… yes, of course, sir. I would be most pleased to marry you.”

  He smiled at her, relief all over him. “Wonderful.” He seized her hand and kissed it.

  She shivered.

  “It may be awful,” he said. “I have to warn you. I don’t know. We may be living like church mice, and when you see the splendor your sister lives in, you may grow to despise me—”

  “Never,” she said. “I have told you, I will be quite satisfied to live as a colonel’s wife. I swear it. It will not be awful.”

  “No,” he said. “I rather imagine it will not.” He was still holding her hand. He kissed it again. Then he turned it over and he planted a kiss in the middle of her palm.

  She gasped and shut her eyes. She had not imagined such a thing should feel so lovely.

  He pulled her body against his.

  She opened her eyes.

  He searched her gaze. “Miss Bennet, I shall… shall do my best to make you happy.”

  “You already have,” she breathed.

  And then his lips met hers, and she was lost in sweet sensations that enveloped her in bliss.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Elizabeth awoke to the sound of someone banging on her door.

  She sat up in bed, and she was dreadfully cold, because Lydia had taken all the covers. She threw an annoyed glance at her sister and then crossed the room to open the door.

  Mr. Darcy was there in his banyan. Behind him was a servant carrying a breakfast tray.

  “Mrs. Darcy,” said her husband. “You and I have a punishment to discuss. I thought we could do so in the privacy of my room over breakfast.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding. “Yes, well that sounds like a good idea. We must get to work on the punishment, I suppose.”

  “No need to dress,” he said. “Just come along with me now.”

  “Of course, sir,” she said. She stepped into the hallway and shut the door behind her.

  Together, they went to Mr. Darcy’s room. The tray of food was left and the door closed and then it was only the two of them.

  “I could have killed Thackerey,” Mr. Darcy remarked idly. He snatched up a piece of a pear from the breakfast tray.

  “You were contemplating murder, sir? When was this?”

  “Last night,” he said. He crooked his finger, gesturing for him to come closer.

  She complied. “And what did Miss Thackerey do to deserve your ire?”

  “Why, she separated us. All that nonsense about your having to share a bed with Lydia. Ridiculous. You and I were in the middle of pressing business last night when we were interrupted.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I suppose so.”

  “Open your mouth.”

  She laughed more, but she did so.

  He put the section of fruit between her lips. His thumb brushed over them, and then feathered over her jaw.

  She shut her eyes and chewed, and her body started to feel loose.

  “If you’re quite hungry—”

  “No,” she said, opening her eyes and smiling at him. “I’m not.”

  “Neither am I, I find,” he said. He traced patterns under her ear with his forefinger.

  It made her feel as though she was coming undone.

  “I find, in fact,” he said, “that I couldn’t possibly concentrate on anything else until we see to that pressing business I spoke of earlier.”

  “Yes,” she whispered. “I see why you would say so. It is rather important.”

  “Vitally.” His voice had gone very, very low.

  And he kissed her.

  She clung to him.

  “Well,” he said, pulling back. “There is only one problem, Elizabeth.”

  “Oh? What is that?”

  “You are wearing far too many clothes,” he said.

  She giggled.

  “For that matter, so am I,” he said.

  “Well,” she said, “that is easily remedied, I think.”

  Then they were kissing again, and wriggling out of their clothes at the same time, and hungry for each other, both eager for the other.

  When they were both uncovered, Elizabeth expected she’d feel shy, but she didn’t. She
felt as though this was what she had been waiting for so long, that it was such long time coming, that it was inevitable.

  Mr. Darcy gaped at her bared skin, awed, reverent.

  She took his hands and put them on her body, and she touched him too. And there was more kissing.

  She had wanted it before, a kiss that never ended, and this was close, because no matter what they were doing, his lips seemed to be on her lips, or on other parts of her skin, and her mouth on his too.

  It wasn’t frightening or strange, but shockingly good. It was lovely.

  When he finally filled her up, she felt as if the world had stopped and they were the only things moving in it, that the undulation of their bodies was the only thing that mattered. Because it felt as though they were part of each other, as if they had become one in a way that made her heart stutter. She clung to him, and she loved him, and he whispered it over and over to her, a litany against her eyebrow: “Elizabeth, I love you, I love you, I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said back.

  And everything was sublime.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  On the morning of Jane’s wedding, there was mass confusion in the household, because Lady Catherine was discovered dead in her bed.

  Lady Catherine had traveled with her daughter to attend the wedding of her nephew, Colonel Fitzwilliam, which she had been largely against, but then recanted upon meeting Jane, because Jane was so unlike Elizabeth in every way. Lady Catherine seemed utterly charmed by Jane, and she remarked that it must only be Elizabeth who had not turned out well in the family, because the other sisters were lovely.

  Yes, it seemed odd that anyone would say such a thing about Lydia, but she had been badly shaken by her experience at the Cerkenwale Ball, and she was now a picture of propriety. Though Darcy and Elizabeth had imposed a punishment on both Lydia and Georgiana of keeping them housebound and not allowing them letters or callers for a period of time, Lydia had determined this was not harsh enough and refused to eat anything more than bread and water for several weeks, until Elizabeth ordered her to eat more, because her sister was looking sick and wan.

  At any rate, Lady Catherine had only met the new Lydia.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam was of the opinion that they should go on with the wedding as planned. After all, he said, no one really liked Lady Catherine anyway.

  But Jane was horrified by such a suggestion and said that they must not marry on a day when someone had died. It was certainly a bad omen to do so. Not to mention, they must have some respect for the feelings of Lady Catherine’s loved ones.

  Indeed, Miss de Bourgh did seem to be quite distraught. She sobbed with abandon, loudly and theatrically for some time, telling everyone that she was dreadfully wounded in the way of the poets, and she had never felt such tragic ecstasy in her life.

  So, some time passed before the wedding occurred, and in that time, Lady Catherine’s will and testament was read.

  She had left Rosings to her daughter, along with a significant fortune, enough to ensure that Miss de Bourgh would now be a sought-after heiress among the ton, that is, if Miss de Bourgh decided she would take a flesh-and-blood suitor instead of her imaginary ones.

  But the surprise was that she had left quite a lot of money to Colonel Fitzwilliam, seeing as he was “the only member of the family not well taken care of.”

  Elizabeth knew Lady Catherine had spoken of doing so when she had tried to entice Elizabeth to marry the colonel instead of Mr. Darcy. Whether she had simply forgotten to take this out of her will or whether she had decided to do it because she approved of Jane, no one knew.

  The fact remained that the colonel and Jane would live a happy and comfortable life together, after all, and everyone would live happily ever after.

  The wedding was beautiful, and Elizabeth was quite sure that Jane was the loveliest bride she had ever seen. She watched the proceedings with her heart in her throat, because she was now certain of something wonderful.

  She had gone two months without her courses, and she was carrying Mr. Darcy’s child.

  Elizabeth was happy to have been able to attend the wedding. Soon enough, she would be showing too much for it to be proper to be out and about in public. She looked forward to a happy future. She and Jane would raise their children together, and they would be with the men that they loved.

  It was only bittersweet because Elizabeth could not help but miss those which she had lost. Her mother, her sweet sisters, and her beloved father. Oh, how she would have loved for her father to have seen his first grandchild or to have seen how radiant Jane was at her wedding.

  Later, she said the same to Jane, and the two clung to each other and cried.

  But that was the only dark spot on the bright day of her sister’s wedding. The wedding breakfast was positively lovely, and Elizabeth had never seen Jane so happy.

  When she bid adieu to her sister and her new husband, Elizabeth was bursting with joy for the both of them and with hope for the future.

  That evening, Mr. Darcy appeared in her room just before she was about to get ready for bed. She looked up from the window, where she had been peering down at the street below and smiled at him. “Well, hello, there. Fancy seeing you here.”

  He crossed the room and put his arm around her, drawing her close. “I only wanted to make sure that you were all right. I saw that you were near tears today with your sister.”

  “Ah,” she said. “It was only that I was thinking of my parents and sisters, and how they were not here to see this.”

  He squeezed her tighter. “I know just how you feel. I often think of my own parents, how much of my life they have missed. I wish they could be here with me. Almost daily, I wish it.”

  She peered up at him. “I am sorry, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I am sorry for you, my darling,” he said. “You are too lovely to have sustained such loss.”

  She thought she might cry again. She turned and put her face against his chest. His arms came round her, and they were snug and close, and all was right with the world.

  She lifted her face to him. “I have some happy news, though. I have been waiting until I was sure to tell you, and I am rather sure now.”

  “What is it?” he said.

  Her smile seemed to stretch across her face of its own accord, as if the joy was bubbling up in her. “I believe I am with child.”

  His eyebrows raised. “Truly?”

  “Of course, truly. Would I jest about such a thing?”

  “Well, I cannot be sure what you might do, wife of mine. You are quite impossible to predict.”

  “I am not jesting.” And now she was laughing.

  He was laughing too. “I am… quite overtaken.”

  “You are pleased?”

  “More than pleased,” he said. He kissed her forehead. “I am delighted.”

  She bent back her head, offering him her lips.

  He took her up on that offer and soon their kisses were deep and sweet and consuming.

  She clung to him, grateful to have found this man. A man who understood her loss and who was overjoyed for their future together. A man who was generous and good and wonderful.

  Once she had thought him insufferably proud, but now she knew she had been wrong.

  He pulled away, grinning at her. “I love you, Elizabeth.”

  “And I you, Fitzwilliam.”

  She touched his face, her fingers fluttering against his jaw.

  He rested his forehead against hers, shutting his eyes.

  She didn’t know if she’d ever been quite this happy. She was settled and safe, and the future was bright. All was well.

  * * *

  Thanks so much for reading!

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  Look for my other P&P variations:

  Mr. Darcy’s Courtesan

  Escape with Mr. Darcy
r />   The Dread Mr. Darcy

  The Scandalous Mr. Darcy

  The Unraveling of Mr. Darcy

  And fall in love with Mr. Darcy all over again