Before either of them could spare a thought to precepts and decorum, or indeed lack thereof, she was lifted off her now precarious seat on the edge of the sofa and gathered to his chest. Still kissing – breathlessly – mindlessly. Darcy easily stood with his light and treasured burden, only to take her place and lean back into the cushions, still clasping the warm form draped over him like a man drowning. His lips found the corner of her jaw and his arms tightened around her waist and behind her knees to lift her closer still, as he explored the softness of her neck. Warm skin, silky and fragrant with her subtle scent. Indefinable, yet deeply stirring, filling his senses and stoking his desire into an all-consuming blaze. As did the fast drumming of her pulse under his searching lips and the incoherent murmur that left hers, compelling him to seek and claim them yet again with that self-perpetuating hunger which nothing but the ultimate intimacy could ever hope to sate.
“How soon, Elizabeth?” Darcy raggedly asked when he finally came up for air.
“Whenever you wish,” she whispered back, the flush in her cheeks and the look she settled upon him from under half-closed eyelids driving him to distraction.
He choked out a laugh rife with barely tamed desire.
“Not possible, I fear. Even the accommodating Mr Bradden cannot marry us within the hour without a special licence.”
Her countenance grew solemn and lost some of its glow.
“Could we not be married in Longbourn Church?” she tentatively asked, and could not fail to detect his sharp disappointment, much as he sought to hide it.
Elizabeth understood it well. She, too, would have greatly preferred to be married from Pemberley and spend their wedding night there, in their future home, and where their love had blossomed, rather than at Netherfield. But she owed Mr Bradden this: to cloak the second marriage proposal she had refused under a discreet silence, and not give him the pain of having to officiate at her nuptials with another man.
“Of course, my love,” Darcy replied evenly with a strained smile. “Forgive me, I should have thought that you would wish to marry near your girlhood home.”
“‘Tis not that,” she answered truthfully, then amended with partial veracity. “Not only that. There is also the issue of consent.”
His smile grew genuine and wider.
“Lord, yes. I quite forgot you are not of age.”
“Not for a few months yet.”
“When?”
“May.”
Darcy’s lips curled into a smile as he leaned to drop a light kiss on her temple. So much he did not know of her, even now. Yet so little, if viewed against the deep-seated truths he already knew without being told. What joy it would be to learn the rest – unravel the glorious mystery of her.
“Fitting. My spring-born sylph,” he whispered against her cheek, warming her skin and inflaming her senses with his tingling breath.
That her response was to tangle her fingers in his hair again and bring his lips on hers of her own accord stirred him no less. A groan rumbled in his chest as Darcy crushed her mouth with his, thrilling at her wondrously unexpected eagerness to unabashedly return passion with passion. His hands roamed over her back, bringing her so close that they could barely breathe – but that was not the reason why his next words came out hoarse and breathless.
“Too long to wait till May. You will have to teach me how to persuade your mother to grant her consent a great deal sooner.”
Still held against his chest, Elizabeth leaned her head on his shoulder and her free hand came up to mindlessly toy with the thick set of curls at his nape. She felt his arms tighten around her at the caress, and wisely forbore to tell him that her mother’s full approval of the match could be gained in mere seconds by the simple expedient of giving her a hint as to the contents of his pocket-book. Instead, she chose to say:
“It is my uncle Gardiner who must be worked upon. He is the one my father had entrusted to act in loco parentis.”
In other circumstances Darcy might have diligently applied himself to learning more of this uncle Gardiner, chosen in preference to the surviving parent, as well as the ways in which his trust and prompt consent could be gained. But as matters stood he could not spare a single thought to sensible conversations, however useful. Instead, he found her lips again to resume demonstrating that their life together would have more than its fair share of unthinking passion – of a wholly different sort than the one Elizabeth had censured, and eminently unobjectionable for that.
* * * *
The rest can be easily guessed.
Darcy, Elizabeth and Georgiana left Pemberley a few days later, but not to journey into Westmoreland as once discussed during a dance that would never be forgotten; this would happen much later in the year. Instead, they set out to Netherfield of course, to begin what was eventually shown to be the longest month of Darcy’s life.
Already informed of their happy tidings from the express sent when the engagement was just one morning old, Jane and Mr Bingley welcomed them with open arms.
So did Mrs Bennet – literally – on the following day, when Darcy finally became acquainted with his future relations, and from that day on he often had to forcefully remind himself that he was a man of his word, and if he had promised Elizabeth he would feel nothing but gratitude towards her mother for bringing her into the world, then that was how it ought to be.
If he lapsed – and who could blame him? – he made sufficient effort not to show it to the lady in question and vented his acute frustration only in the presence of a sympathetic Bingley who, having been exposed to the delights of having her in his family for a great deal longer, knew precisely how his fastidious friend felt. Fortunately, he also had a vast supply of the finest brandy, a cheerfully tonic disposition and an uncanny ability to find the most comforting words: namely, that there were one hundred and sixty-five blessed miles between Meryton and Pemberley.
The reminder bore frequent repetition.
Meeting one of the uncles in trade – the local attorney, Mr Phillips – and his wife was equally a challenge to Darcy. The man was dull in the extreme and his wife a slightly younger but otherwise frightfully faithful copy of Mrs Bennet.
More than once Darcy thought of the unknown Mr Bennet with great wonder and an even greater sense of obligation. The wonder was at him having tolerated all of them at close quarters for over two decades. The deep sense of obligation was of course for Elizabeth’s upbringing. It could only have been thanks to her father that she had grown into the jewel that she was.
And then Darcy was introduced to the other uncle, Mr Gardiner – the one entrusted with the power of veto – and his Derbyshire-born wife, and understood that thanks were owed to more than the departed Mr Bennet, who sadly could not receive them anyway. For all their origins in trade, Mr Gardiner and his wife had the air of people of fashion, and their conversation showed them in possession of quite as much, if not more, good taste and good sense as many of Darcy’s fashionable acquaintances could boast.
Not long after their arrival at Netherfield, to Darcy’s surprise and, truth be told, more than a little vexation, it became quite clear to him that Mr Gardiner and his wife were in no haste to approve, and he was being sounded out. Discreetly, but sounded out nevertheless. His person. His motives. His willingness and indeed ability to make Elizabeth happy.
The notion could not fail to rile him. Not that he would have welcomed further fawning; he already had more than his fill from Mrs Bennet and her sister Phillips. But he had been regarded as a highly eligible match ever since he had been old enough for matrimony, and by people of vastly higher standing. Who were they to doubt it, and furthermore question Elizabeth’s choice, when they did not know him as she did?
Thankfully, he eventually had the good sense to grasp that this was precisely what they were seeking – to know him better. And with the best reason in the world: they loved her and wished her to be happy; a cherished partner in life, rather than a wealthy man’s plaything.
&
nbsp; With that insight Darcy found it in him to bear the guarded examination with fairly good grace. Laying his concerns open to scrutiny was not his way, nor was justifying himself to others, not since his father’s passing. But, and he smiled warmly at the thought, this would change once he was married. He could not bear to be excluded from anything that mattered to Elizabeth, and if she loved him as much, then the reverse was probably true. And since he could scarce wait for his marital bliss to begin, then Mr Gardiner’s consent had to be gained. Waiting till her twenty-first birthday was hardly a palatable option. Nor was a post-haste journey to Gretna Green. He had no wish to attract further gossip, nor give Elizabeth the pain of marrying without her relations’ company and consent.
So he purposely set to making himself agreeable to Mr Gardiner and his wife. A daunting task for someone of his disposition, but not insurmountable, particularly as subsequent conversations showed them to be kindly and fair-minded people, who only needed to know that he was a principled man who cared for Elizabeth and would treat her well.
Bingley, bless his kind heart, was greatly instrumental in helping him gain their good opinion. On the evening when Mr Gardiner asked Darcy and Elizabeth to meet him in the library and gave them his consent and blessing, he finished the rewarding interview by teasingly informing him what a sterling champion he had in his friend.
From then on the days were slightly more endurable. At least the date was set for the end of the month and the ladies had begun their flurry of preparations for the wedding clothes and wedding breakfast. The wedding clothes, Darcy soon found, were nothing but a nuisance, for the countless hours Elizabeth was drawn to spend with purchases and fittings rather than at Netherfield.
Not that Netherfield afforded much privacy either. Mrs Bennet and her youngest and flightiest daughters were there at all hours and, vexingly, so was Mr Collins, to expostulate ad nauseam on his delight in their future connection and thus sorely try his temper and mortify Elizabeth.
More pleasant, to Elizabeth at least, were the frequent calls from the neighbouring ladies and, while he would not begrudge her the joy of spending time with friends she had not seen for very long and from whom she would soon be again separated, he dearly wished for some time when he could have her to himself alone.
Their only chances of temporary privacy were on long walks through the countryside when, for too short a while, they could talk unhindered and walk holding hands, until they found some blessedly secluded spot where he could take her in his arms and claim a woefully insufficient share of wild kisses that would have to sustain him – somehow – until they were alone again.
Needless to say, the nights were the worst. Vainly he sought to remind himself in the hours of solitary longing that at least the date was mercifully set and they would marry, she would be his forever, and a few more lonely nights surely were not too high a price for the forthcoming bliss. But that would not lessen his yearning one iota and he would often find himself roaming like a lost soul through the deserted gardens or seeking to kill time in Bingley’s sparse library and billiards room.
Sometimes, but never for too long into the night, Bingley would keep him company, alternating between sympathetic glances and provokingly knowing smirks. Once he went as far as observing that he was pleased to see Darcy had taken his advice and sought to marry for ardent love rather than some other tedious reasons – a mightily rewarding choice, however unbearable this made the waiting. A growling retort bidding him to mind his business and go enjoy his own much-lauded felicity put paid to such remarks, but had no effect whatsoever on the smirking. If anything, it only became worse when, a se’nnight before the wedding, Fitzwilliam came to add his own so-called support to the groom-to-be. The sly grins exchanged between him and Bingley were scarcely less provoking than their words of wisdom. As for the latter, on the night when Bingley asked in all seriousness if there was anything he wished to know, Darcy all but choked into his brandy, before spluttering that he was mightily obliged just the same, but sufficiently well informed.
Mercifully, the appointed day came at last and whirled into an anxiously blissful haze. The morning preparations. The ride to church. The ceremony, of which he remembered very little apart from the glorious sight of Elizabeth advancing down the aisle on her uncle Gardiner’s arm, and the tear-misted sparkle in her eyes when she pledged herself to him.
The wedding breakfast was a blur as well, and it was only when they took to the road on their way to Berkeley Square that Darcy could begin to fully absorb and savour their newfound felicity. Verily glowing, Elizabeth remained ensconced in his arms throughout the journey, which was made both marginally bearable and unbearably long by her enticing closeness and endless, burning kisses – an incandescent prelude to the night to come.
To say that their wedding night defied every imagination would still be insufficient. Beyond his wildest dreams. Utterly nerve-racking. Ardent. Perfect. Glorious. None of these served. He needed better words.
Whatever words he said that night would never be remembered – at least not by him. Disjointed murmurs as he revelled in her exquisite loveliness, soothed her, worshipped her. Ragged words as passion built and grew inexorably towards the sharpest need and exploded into the ultimate fulfilment. All-consuming. Shattering. Magnificent.
He did remember asking her if she was well and telling her he loved her. Repeating it later, much later, when she stirred in the warm enclosure of his arms to stroke his face and nudge up to kiss him. And then desire stirred again as well, to flourish into further proof that they loved with equal passion.
They spent only a short while in town, barely longer than a se’nnight, and most of that in the exquisite privacy of their apartments. They wished to see no one, so they forsook the town’s plethora of entertainments and ventured out just for long walks in the park, at some of the most unfashionable hours.
Darcy did not even give himself the trouble of calling upon his Fitzwilliam relations. To his great joy, his dearest cousin had been by his side in his happiest hour. The rest, except dear Amelia, were of no interest to him for now. Lord Malvern’s reply to the letter announcing his upcoming nuptials had been on the par with Lady Catherine’s. Lady Stretton had sent the curtest note. As for Lady Malvern, although she had written at length with substantially warmer sentiments, true to form had not attempted to brave her husband’s disapproval by attending the wedding.
They would relent or not – the choice was theirs. At that point in time Darcy could not care less. They would be dealt with in the years to come, along with the glittering crowds of the ton. For now, Darcy was impatient to return his darling bride to Pemberley and begin their life there as husband and wife, alongside Georgiana.
There would be challenges there too: a handful of supercilious neighbours puffed up by their own importance, or a household that had yet to come under the guidance of a mistress risen from their highest ranks. The first were as essential to the Darcys’ felicity as Lord Malvern, his sister and his daughter by marriage. The second would be charmed and, those who had not been already, eventually won over in the fullness of time.
As for Georgiana, she could only relish her brother’s and her best friend’s joy, blissfully await the time when their children would romp through the gardens, to be joined much later by her own, and meanwhile find more or less transparent ways of leaving the newlyweds to their own devices.
That night she did the same. She had retired from the music room at an uncommonly early hour, leaving her new sister to entertain a besotted husband with song. That is, until Elizabeth was moved to play a particular aria about tender sentiments that could not be openly expressed, yet would be discerned in sparkling eyes, if one were to look closely.
This time Darcy did recognise the melody and each and every one of its associations. So, even before the last haunting notes had ceased vibrating in the strings of the harp and of his heart, he had already gathered his wife into his arms to carry her above stairs and glory in the brightness of
her love.
THE END
LIST OF NEW CHARACTERS
In addition to well-known and much-loved characters, there are a few others.
Most of them are incidental to the story and are listed below only as a memory aid.
Earl of Malvern, Lady Malvern: Colonel Fitzwilliam’s parents
Lord Stretton, Lady Stretton: Colonel Fitzwilliam’s eldest brother and his lordship’s wife
Lady Amelia Fitzwilliam: Colonel Fitzwilliam’s youngest sister
Lord Hartfield, Miss Margaret, Miss Hetty: Lord and Lady Stretton’s children
Mrs Harding: their governess
Mr Howard: Lord Hartfield’s tutor
Mr James Bradden, Miss Bradden: the new vicar of Kympton and his sister
Lord Fenton, Miss Fenton: A Derbyshire neighbour and his sister
Mr Burton: Mr Darcy’s butler
Peter, Thomas, Simon: Mr Darcy’s footmen
Mr Jonas Wilkins: Mr Bradden’s manservant
Hannah, Martha: housemaids at Pemberley
Mary: housemaid at the vicarage
Messrs Howe and Crompton: booksellers in Lambton
Mrs Moore: seamstress in Lambton
* * * *
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
FROM THIS DAY FORWARD
~ THE DARCYS OF PEMBERLEY ~
A Pride & Prejudice Sequel
“A thoughtful and discerning sequel about the Darcys”
Austenesque Reviews ( September 2013 )
On a crisp winter morning in a small country church, Miss Elizabeth Bennet married Mr Darcy, and her quiet, tame existence abruptly changed. The second daughter of a country gentleman is now many different things, to different people. Beloved wife. Mistress of a dauntingly great estate. Reluctant socialite. Daughter. Sister. Cousin. Friend. And as the days of her married life go by, bringing both joy and turmoil, the man who stands beside her is her shelter and comfort in the face of family opposition, peril and heartbreak.
Miss Darcy's Companion: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Page 26
