by Ola Wegner
Darcy sighed and returned his attention to the men. “I think we can postpone our journey a couple of days to attend.”
“Excellent, excellent!” Livingstone cried. “I will talk with Lady Livingstone to send the formal invitation for you yet today.”
“If it is no trouble, of course.” Elizabeth added sweetly.
Livingstone bowed again. “We shall be delighted to have you, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth smiled at him before looking up at her husband. “I dare say you wish to talk with your friends without female company. I will look for a gift for Georgiana and wait for you there.” She pointed with her eyes at the store nearby. “Gentlemen.” She curtseyed again, before releasing Darcy’s arm and walking away.
Three pairs of eyes followed her, especially Darcy’s, as he looked after her till she safely entered the shop.
“Where did you find her?” Livingstone asked when Elizabeth was out of earshot.
“I heard Hertfordshire,” his brother answered.
“That is correct. Mrs. Darcy’s father’s estate is in Hertfordshire,” Darcy confirmed formally.
“I congratulate you,” Livingstone said. “She is very pretty, not a classical beauty perhaps, but those eyes, remarkable.”
“And intelligent,” Percival added. “She looked as if she was laughing at us secretly the entire time.”
Darcy pushed his chest up. “Mrs. Darcy is quite unique,” he agreed proudly.
“The way she looks at you, Darce. She appears besotted with you,” Livingstone noted, giving the other man a kind look.
Darcy fought the temptation not to hug the other man after hearing his welcoming observation of his wife’s attachment to himself.
He cleared his throat, changing the subject, speaking in his usual controlled voice. “On exactly what day does Lady Livingstone plan this ball?
***
Darcy was on his way home from meeting with his solicitor. He had decided to walk today in order to have the possibility to think everything through once again.
He was certain he had made a good decision today. He had invested some of his savings into Mr. Gardiner’s company. Pemberley provided a good income, but he had to think about the future. Everyone seemed to take an interest in the colonies these days, the West Indies especially, and though he knew little about overseas trade and found it rather risky due to the constant wars, he trusted Elizabeth’s uncle enough not to be afraid of losing his money. The Gardiners might live in Cheapside, close to their warehouses but when he had visited them for the first time because of the unfortunate matter with Lydia, he had been convinced they were considerably well to do people. Mr. Gardiner guaranteed fifteen percent from his investment, but he assured that it could be even doubled.
Darcy did not want one day to find himself in his father-in-law’s position, not being able to secure all his children, daughters especially. Boys always had an easier way in life. They could learn a profession and, undoubtedly, have more opportunities than girls. Mrs. Bennet had borne five healthy children in the short span of eight years. He had to admit one thing, that the woman was physically very fit and looked youthful for her age. Elizabeth might have favoured her father’s dark colouring and his personality, but she had inherited her mother’s constitution and body build. He needed to take into consideration that they would have more children than his parents. De facto, Elizabeth was already expecting a baby. The possibility of having daughters, even as many as five, did not fret him at all; he could always pass Pemberley to one of his grandsons or to a nephew. The vision of several little girls with curls and bright green eyes, running the halls of Pemberley, little copies of Elizabeth, delighted him.
As he entered the Darcy townhouse, he found it very quiet. Perhaps Elizabeth was napping again.
“Where is my wife?” he asked the butler. He felt such an inflow of pride saying the words, „my wife.” He had a wife.
“Mrs. Darcy ordered a carriage shortly after you left this morning,” the servant explained.
Darcy frowned. Elizabeth did not mention she had any particular plans for today when they talked over late breakfast. He preferred to know about her trips in town.
“Did Mrs. Darcy mention where she was going?”
The man nodded. “Yes, Master. She received a note from her aunt, I believe. She asked me to tell you that she went to visit Mrs. Gardiner.”
“Ah, good. I will be in my study when she returns.”
“Should I send tea?”
“No, thank you.”
In his study, Darcy sat near the window. He had little desire for dealing with all the correspondence piling on his desk, which he had neglected for the past few days. If Elizabeth had been here, he would have had an excuse not to work today. After all, he was a newlywed, and he should be paying a lot of attention to his wife. She should not feel neglected.
Soon there was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” cried almost cheerfully, thinking that Elizabeth had returned.
It was not Elizabeth though, but the housekeeper. “Master, I wish a word if you have time.”
Darcy was surprised. He did not expect to need to talk with the housekeeper now that he had a wife. He could not imagine what the woman could want from him that Elizabeth was not able to answer.
Even so, he put a pleasant expression on his face. His father had taught him to treat servants kindly and respectfully. “Yes, please, Mrs. Robertson.” He gestured to a chair in front of his large mahogany desk. “Is there a problem?”
The woman sat down. “Yes, Master. I must say it is about Mrs. Darcy.”
Darcy’s expression clouded. “I do not understand.”
“Yesterday, when you were out, she asked me to show her the household account books.”
Darcy’s frown deepened.
The housekeeper, as if encouraged with his expression, continued, her voice more confident. “She ordered me to change a butcher, calling the one we used too expensive. Then she took away the keys to the cabinet where we keep tea, chocolate and coffee. She went down to the kitchen and talked with cook...”
Darcy lifted his hand. “That is quite enough. Mrs. Robertson.”
“But, Master,” the woman tried again. “We have used the butcher for the past fifteen years at least. Your late mother approved him. The new Mrs. Darcy seems so young, and she is all too... uhm...confident ...”
“How dare you to criticize my wife?” Darcy hissed.
He stood up from his desk and paced the room, trying to control his ire.
“Mrs. Robertson, I always had a high opinion of you, but now I am most amazed with your attitude.” His voice was calm, but cold. “My wife has full control over the household and all the home servants, both here in London and in the country. She has my full support and trust. I have enough matters to deal with, and I do not want to be bothered because she changed a butcher. What she says is the same as if I said it. Do we understand each other?”
Mrs. Robertson stared at him for a moment, before lowering her head and murmuring. “Yes, Master.”
When the woman was gone, he found it hard to return to his former pleasant mood. He had complete faith in Elizabeth’s abilities. Mrs. Bennet had taught her well; he had no doubt of that. She had not even mentioned to him that she had looked through the books. She must have thought it a natural thing to do in her position, not even worth mentioning. He was content and proud that his young wife was confident enough to take a reign over the household without even the smallest hint from him that she should.
Another knock at the door brought? his attention. “What?” he cried impatiently.
Elizabeth stood in the open door, her expression concerned. “William?” She watched him cautiously with her big eyes. He realized he rarely, perhaps never, had spoken to her in his less pleasant voice.
“It is you.” His smile returned.
She closed the door and walked to him. “Is something wrong?”
He pulled her into his embrace. “No,
love.”
Her eyes searched his face. “I can see that something upset you.”
“Yes, but it is not important.”
“Is it about your meeting with the solicitor? The business with my uncle proved not what you expected, perhaps?”
“No, on the contrary. It is only...”
She walked him to the armchair, pushed him to sit in it, and then settled on his lap.
“Tell me.”
“I had a surprising talk with the housekeeper,” he relented at last.
Her eyebrows lifted on her high forehead. “Mrs. Robertson?”
“I am not sure whether I should tell you this.”
Elizabeth looked at him expectantly.
“She came to complain that you demanded to look through the books.”
“You think that I should not do that?” she asked slowly.
“No, of course, you should. I am glad that you feel responsible for the household, and I appreciate your effort. I am only surprised with Mrs. Roberston. I always had a high opinion of her, and now I am not sure whether we should not look for someone different.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not think that would be necessary. She has ruled this house for so many years, she needs some time to get used to this new situation. I am sure that she is not happy that a twenty year old tells her what to do.”
Darcy sobered, his voice stern. “You are Mrs. Darcy; her job is to follow your orders and aid you when you ask it. She is the servant – you are the mistress of our home.”
“William, there is no point in blowing this out of proportion.” She tried to soothe him, slipping her hand under his coat to stroke his chest through his shirt. “Nothing bad happened, truly. You settled the matter, and I am sure Mrs. Robertson understood your point and what happened will not recur.”
“But you will tell me if she disobeys you.”
“I am sure it will not be necessary. I can deal with it.”
He took her hand, and lifted it to his lips. “I have no doubt that you can.” He looked at her with enamoured eyes.
His eyes darkened, and he cupped her cheek, but before their lips met, she said.
“You cannot guess what news I bring from Gracechurch Street.”
“What news?” he asked distractedly, hooking his arm more securely around her waist, bringing her closer.
“My aunt expects a child. It seems it will be born around the same time as ours.”
“They did not wasted their time at Pemberley.”
She nodded with sweet smile. “No, they did not.”
“Does she know about ...?” he placed his hand on her middle, his face buried into her neck.
She sighed at the sensation of his lips nuzzling her neck. “I have not told her anything, but I think she suspects something.”
“Such a perceptive woman your aunt is,” Darcy murmured, reaching to the back of her dress.
“Wait,” she whispered when he opened the first buttons and the material around her arms began loosening. She slipped from his lap and ran to the door, turning the key in the lock.
As she walked back to him, she opened her dress and took it off, placing it neatly on a nearby chair. Then with a few swift movements, she unsnapped the front clasps of her corset.
His eyes crawled over her body, stopping at her breasts, clearly visible under the near transparent chemise. With an impatient gesture, he reached for her, pulling her back to him. He was surprised when she started wriggling on his lap, till she settled herself astride, in front of him, her legs bent on both sides. Her fingers began fighting with the knots at his cravat. When his neck was uncovered, she attached her lips to it, sucking there. He was surprised, because usually she was not so forward. But his shock was even greater when one small hand moved down to his trousers, stroking him through the material. She had avoided this area so far in their encounters, apart from their very first night at Pemberley.
She looked down between them and, with quick fingers, opened the falls. He sprang fully aroused into her small, capable hands, and she stroked him.
“God,” he grunted, his head falling back on the headrest of the chair.
He closed his eyes, allowing her hand to caress him. Soon he felt her warm thigh and glanced back at her. Her petticoats gathered up over one arm, she tried to insert the tip into her with a determined expression painted on her face.
“Stop, love,” he groaned. “You will hurt yourself.”
She bit her lower lip. “I will manage.” She put the tip in and slowly lowered herself.
He stroked her hip with concern. “Are you in pain?”
She wiggled her bottom. “No, just stretched,” she breathed a sigh of relief. “I think I am slowly getting used to you and how very tall you are.”
Darcy actually blushed. He brought her closer and guided her to move up and down him. Soon the ferocity of their ride was too much for the old armchair his grandfather had bought when he had been furnishing the house, so they moved down to the carpet.
***
“Darcy.” Livingstone patted his back, approaching him. “Join us in the library. We are looking for one more partner for cards.”
Darcy did not even bother to look at him, his eyes on Elizabeth. “No, thank you,” he said distractedly.
Livingstone followed his gaze to the dancing area, where Elizabeth stood with his brother.
“Come on, Darcy. She will be quite safe here. No one will take her from you.” He laughed at his own joke.
Darcy honoured him with a heavy glare. “I simply detest cards. You know that.”
“You can sit with us then and have a cigar. You do look kind of silly standing here amongst the women, mothers and widows, watching her like a hawk. They will say she wrapped you around her finger already.”
“I have never cared what others say about me.”
“That is true.”
This time Elizabeth walked close by them, giving her husband a beautiful smile.
“Not classical beauty perhaps, but undeniably very pretty, and that figure ...,” His voice traced?, his gaze resting on Elizabeth’s rounded bottom.
Livingstone laughed again at Darcy’s scowl directed at him. “If you could see yourself, you have daggers in your eyes, man.”
“I would be grateful if you took your attention off my wife’s posterior,” Darcy grunted coldly.
“Will you warn all the other men dancing with her like that?” Livingstone smirked, before walking away to his wife.
Darcy’s eyes glued back to the dancing Elizabeth. No wonder she drew attention. She looked absolutely stunning tonight, with her dark curls shining, eyes sparkling, cheeks rosy. His old habit of staring at her was hard to resist, and now he could give himself to it completely, without guilt. He did not care what others were thinking.
His only doubts were about her dress. It was a new gown, and he had not seen it on her before they had arrived here and he was helping her out of her coat. His mouth had fallen wide open, and all he could do was to stare. The cut was daring indeed, showing her lovely neck and breasts, additionally pushed up by the stays. He was more than sure that Mrs. Bennet had chosen it for Elizabeth. He could not remember if she had ever worn anything cut that low. He liked it on her, how she looked in it, the way it showed her figure to the very best advantage, but certainly he was not so pleased when other men’s eyes stopped too long, not on her face, but lower. He felt pride and a sort of excitement that they could only look, while he was in right to touch wherever he wanted when in private, and most importantly, see it in all glory once they returned home. On the other hand, his inborn possessiveness preferred her to wear such dresses only for him, while for the outside world she would put on something more covered up.
The dance ended, and Percival Livingstone walked Elizabeth back to his side.
“Mrs. Darcy is a most wonderful dancer,” the boy exclaimed enthusiastically.
Darcy gave him a cold look through narrowed eyes. “Yes, I am aware of that.”
>
The youth stepped from one foot to another and then, murmuring something, walked away.
“You scared him.” Elizabeth complained. “He was good company and so polite.”
Darcy’s hand sneaked around her back, stroking her shoulder blade. “Are you having fun?”
“Oh, yes!” she beamed.
“Are you not tired?” he asked, mindful of her state.
“Oh, no. Remember that I slept a good few hours in the afternoon. I do not recall the last time I danced to such well performed music. It had to be at the Netherfield ball.”
He smiled. “When we danced together for the first time.”
“Yes, and though I did not like you at all back then, I had to admit how well you danced. I do not understand why you danced only once tonight.”
“I do not like the activity in particular,” he said simply. “I danced the one only because I had such a tempting partner, with dark green eyes and black curls.”
“My hair is dark brown, not black.” She inclined her head, decorated in ribbons matching her gown, towards his arm. “I thought you would join other gentlemen in the library. I saw our host speaking with you. You must be bored standing here all alone the entire evening.”
“I developed a bit of a headache. The smoke from cigars will only worsen it. I preferred to stay here.”
He was not exactly lying to her. As a rule, he had a headache whenever he had to attend a ball.
“You do look pale.” Her concerned eyes rested on his face. “Do you want to return home?”
He shook his head. “The evening is far from over, and you surely want to dance a couple more dances.”
“I have danced enough, and I cannot allow you to suffer. It is well past midnight. Our hosts will not be offended if we leave now.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “I will go and tell Lady Livingstone that we are leaving.”
Once outside, as they waited for the carriage, he proposed. “Let us walk. It is only one block away.”
He sent the carriage home and made sure she was well bundled up. “Where is your shawl?” he asked.
“I left it in the carriage.”
He sighed, took off his own white scarf, and wound it around her neck several times. “It is October,” he explained, “The nights are cold.”
