by Ola Wegner
He pulled her down on the blanket then for a long, sweet kiss.
“Can we stay here forever?” she asked dreamily as she settled back against his chest, mirroring their earlier pose.
“No, not forever. Nevertheless, we can prolong our stay for a few days.”
“You need to return to Pemberley,” she stated the obvious.
“You will love Pemberley.”
“Oh, I am certain that it is most lovely. Aunt Gardiner said that it was the most charming place she had ever had pleasure of seeing, a perfect balance of nature and human creation.”
“I cannot argue with that,” he said as he brought her closer and kissed the top of her head.
She hesitated for a moment before she spoke again. “I am apprehensive about…”
“Yes?” he encouraged, his voice deep and soft.
“Will I be a good Mistress?”
“Oh, it is guaranteed,” he answered instantly. “Without a shadow of a doubt, you will be the best Mistress Pemberley may wish for. I will be there to help you, as will Mrs. Reynolds. However, I do not believe you will need our assistance. You will manage brilliantly on your own. ”
She lifted on her elbow to look into his face. “You seem to have much faith in me.”
“Why should I not?” he asked, burying his hand in her thick hair.
At his insistence, she had worn her hair down since they had come here. He admitted to preferring it like that, and she was happy to please him with such a small gesture. It was a nightmare, however, to brush the knots out of it by the end of the day.
“You are compassionate and kind, more so than I. Moreover, it was my impression that your mother had taught you well about household matters.”
Her spirits dropped instantly at the mention of her mother. Lately, a feeling of overwhelming guilt had built in her, growing stronger and stronger with every day. Despite all the differences between them, she should have allowed her mother to participate in the wedding. She knew how much Mrs. Bennet cared for such matters, if only so she could talk about it to all her friends for the rest of her life.
“Can we go to Brighton later today, or tomorrow perhaps?” she asked, changing the subject.
She could see that he was surprised with her request. Still, he agreed without hesitation. “Of course, my love, if you wish it.”
“I do wish it. I would like to buy some gifts for Mama and the girls,” she explained.
He gave her a searching look. “You wish to stop by Hertfordshire on our way to Pemberley?” he guessed.
“Can we? I feel that I should.”
He reached his other hand to stroke her back reassuringly. “Naturally. We will need to make at least three stops on our way to Derbyshire, one of them can be Meryton.”
“I do not want to stay at Purvis Lodge though.”
“Neither do I,” he admitted. “We will sleep at Netherfield. Bingley will be happy to host us. It is always better than the best of inns.”
She nodded, imaging what the meeting with her mother would be like. To be truthful, she dreaded it. As she raised her eyes to him, she noticed that he was also lost in thought.
“Did Jane mention something to you last time you spoke, the night before our wedding?”
She blinked, taken aback with his question. “What do you mean? We talked about a few matters that evening, but we both retired early.”
“I see. I did not manage to speak with Richard either,” he murmured more to himself than to her.
“Richard? Colonel Fitzwilliam, your cousin?” she questioned, her eyes narrowed. “What is there with him and Jane?”
“I am not sure whether we should discuss this between us,” he tried to dismiss her. “It is their personal business.”
“Personal business? What personal business may Colonel Fitzwilliam have with my sister?” she cried in alarm.
He seemed reluctant to answer, but her stare was unwavering.
“He sought my advice,” Darcy admitted at last. “It seems that he would wish to court her. He wondered how serious the relationship between her and Bingley is, and whether he may have a chance with her.”
“Colonel Fitzwilliam wishes to marry Jane?” she exclaimed unbelievably. “That is most astonishing! How can this be? She is too poor for him to consider! He told me himself that he could not marry where he wished to.”
It was Darcy’s turn to frown. “He told you that? Why? When?”
“Back in Kent,” she answered.
He sat up abruptly, making her do the same. “Why should he confess such intimate matters to you?”
She lifted her shoulders in a defensive gesture. “We talked a few times as he joined me during my daily walks, and one time he explained his life situation to me. I do not remember the exact words, or how we came to this subject. Still, I am certain I understood him correctly. He said that as a second son he would need to marry a woman of considerable means; and my sister certainly has little to offer in that regard. I do not wish her to build hopes over someone who may never consider her as a serious match, especially when she can have a home and a safe future with Mr. Bingley,” she fretted.
Darcy stood up and began pulling on his shirt.
“What is the matter?” she asked, observing him warily. “Are you not pleased with your cousin showing attention to Jane?”
He shook his head no, bending down to pick up their belongings. Elizabeth helped him to fold the blanket before clearing it from the sand and grass.
“I must write to Jane, warning her that she should be careful when meeting Colonel Fitzwilliam the next time,” she spoke more to herself than to him as they walked towards the cottage, Darcy carrying their blanket and food basket. “Is your cousin in London now?”
“No, he is in Kent,” Darcy answered, his tone clipped, hostile almost.
Elizabeth grabbed his arm, stopping him in place. “What has changed your mood so much? What did I say?”
“Nothing,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.
She lifted her hand, cupping his cheek, making him look at her. “Is it about your cousin?”
“Was there something between you two? he spat out. “You sounded hurt when I mentioned him being interested in Jane.” He eyed her speculatively.
She opened and closed her mouth, before she whispered. “You are jealous?”
“You think I have no reason to be? It was obvious to me that you favored him when we were in Kent. You were all smiles every time you were in his company. He spoke to you about his life situation, as if he was explaining himself why he could not make you an offer.” His tone was laced with accusation which instantly made her angry.
“Even if that was the case, that is not your business.”
“Not my business? I disagree. My wife admits to me that another man showed his interest in her, and she reciprocated it. That is certainly my business.”
“I had no relationship with you at that time. I was free to bestow my attentions on other men.”
His jaw line clenched. “What?” he hissed.
She raised her chin high. “I do not believe that I ever acted against the rules of propriety before our engagement. You are in no place to be displeased over the few conversations and walks I enjoyed with your cousin. I liked his company very well, and that has not changed since then.”
She took his glaring at her person calmly, before he stomped away from her, marching towards the entrance of the house.
“You have no right to say a word to me about my past behaviour with men, you with your ten whores!” she cried, before clasping her hand over her mouth. As soon as the words had fallen from her lips, she knew that she had gone too far.
He froze in place, but did not turn around to look at her. After a moment, he began moving again, rushing towards the house without a second glance in her direction.
Chapter Twenty – Three
He had not spoken a single word to her since they had returned from the beach. Neither had he looked at her.
&nbs
p; Closed in their bedroom upstairs, she decided that she would not go to him first. He had no right to be upset about her friendship with Colonel Fitzwilliam. Nothing improper had ever occurred between them. How dare he to judge her? She had been forced to endure the humiliation of meeting one of his ex-mistresses, and he was not able to bear that she had had a few friendly conversations with his cousin?
Her husband seemed to think that she was unsupportive of Colonel Fitzwilliam’s interest in Jane because she herself had feelings for him. That could not be farther from the truth. Even though she genuinely liked the colonel and enjoyed his company and easy manner, there was nothing more to it. She was a married woman now. Those few men which had caught her attention when she had still been a Miss Bennet were irreversibly left in the past. Her husband, his words and actions, her physical attraction to him, his kisses and embraces, occupied her mind and heart to such an extent that there was truly no place there for anyone else.
The fact that Darcy’s cousin found Jane appealing was natural, expected even. However, the fact that he had discussed the matter with Darcy was most alarming. Elizabeth was certain that she had understood Colonel Fitzwilliam correctly back in Kent. He had no means to marry as he wished, then what he was looking for with Jane?
Jane’s happiness meant the world to Elizabeth. Jane deserved all the best, she could not bear to see her sister suffer at the man’s hands as his toy once again. Mr. Bingley seemed such a secure option - he was close, and this time he appeared to be genuinely invested both with his feelings and intentions. Colonel Fitzwilliam was the unknown. He might never have the means to marry Jane, no matter how honest and honourable his intentions were.
A light knock on the door brought her to the present moment.
“Enter,” she called, expecting it to be Darcy.
To her surprise, the driver, Mr. Black, appeared in the opening.
He bowed. “Master has asked to take you for a shopping trip to Brighton. All is ready, Mistress. We can go when it is convenient to you.”
Her first impulse was to tell him to go to hell, together with his Master, but she quickly composed herself.
“Thank you. Allow me a few minutes to prepare myself,” she responded politely. “I should be ready in a quarter of an hour.”
The man bowed again, leaving the room quickly. Darcy was speaking with her through the servants now. Very well; if that was his wish, she would respect his decision.
She picked an elegant grey–lilac, short sleeved gown, adorned with black ribbons. It was designed with the thought of later mourning. However, as it was such a hot day, she despised the thought of wearing the perhaps more appropriate black satin with long sleeves.
Darcy was nowhere to be seen as she walked downstairs and outside the house to the awaiting carriage. Obviously, he had no intention of accompanying her.
As she was about to enter the box, the door opened for her, and she felt the weight of a familiar, warm hand on her waist.
“Do you have money?” he asked.
She turned to him, but was careful not to look up. She was still too angry to make an eye contact.
“Yes,” she murmured, clenching the reticule in her gloved hands.
“Do you need more? Brighton is a very expensive town, even more so than London and Bath.”
She shook her head vehemently. “No, thank you.” She stepped away, climbing into the carriage on her own, ignoring his outstretched hand.
As the door shut, she observed through the lowered window as he walked to the footman. They talked for a moment, before she saw Darcy passing what looked like a small purse with money. She rolled her eyes. Of course he always had to know better.
In her present state of mind, she did not expect to enjoy the trip. However, on the first glimpse of the elaborate shop window displays, she temporarily forgot about her current worries. She had never seen such an abundance of beautiful things, even in London. Her lips curled into a soft smile as she imagined her younger sisters and mother here with her. There would be no end to their excitement. Wide eyed, she walked from one shop window to another, admiring the tastefully arranged articles.
While the driver stayed back with the carriage, the footman followed her, never staying farther than a few feet behind her. Knowing Darcy’s protectiveness, she did not have to guess that the man had received a direct order not to leave her alone for even a moment. She did not find it necessary, but with his presence, she felt safer being in a place that was foreign to her.
Darcy’s remark on the expensiveness of Brighton proved more than right. In one of the shop, she eyed items which would make excellent presents for Kitty, Lydia and Georgiana, but she was more than disappointed to note that their combined price covered almost all the funds she had with herself. Yet, she had to find gifts for her mother, Jane, and the Gardiners’ children.
She pondered for a moment, before she turned on her feet to look for the servant who waited for her in front of the shop. He had no trouble with guessing what she needed; without a word, he handed her the same purse with money which he had received from Darcy earlier. Not much was left in it when she had purchased everything she wanted.
It was nearly five in the afternoon when they returned to cottage. She took her time in Brighton, thinking that some time apart would do Darcy and her good. She even spent some time in a tea shop, where she had tried delicious biscuits. She noticed some militia officers in the crowd of people strolling down the main street, but thankfully there were no familiar faces between them. All she needed today was a run-in with Mr.Wickham.
To her quiet relief, Darcy did not come out of the house to greet her. She left the numerous parcels to the footman and went directly upstairs.
She looked through the purchased items spread all over the white bed coverlet. She felt pleased with herself for her choices of gifts for her sisters, mother and little cousins, when there was a knock on the door.
“Enter,” she called, certain that it was a servant to announce dinner.
She stilled, recognizing her husband’s footsteps, she but she did not turn around.
“Did you get everything you wanted?” he asked, standing behind her.
She nodded. “Thank you for the additional funds. Brighton is indeed a rather expensive place to shop,” she admitted.
She did not wish to be ungrateful. He thought of her, about her safety and needs, even when they were not on their best terms. She should appreciate that.
“Lizzy,” he murmured, pulling her into his embrace, her back to his front. “I cannot stand it when you are upset with me.”
Putting her hands on his arms, wrapped around her midsection, she tried to pry them away, which only caused him to bring her more firmly to himself. “Then perhaps you should not…“ She did not finish, because he cupped her face, capturing her lips firmly with his.
Her attempted protest died in her mouth as one of his hands slid up, cupping her breast, while the other made its journey down, stopping just above the apex of her legs.
He swept the things which she had bought from the bed on the floor, where they fell with a soft thud. Thankfully, there was nothing breakable among them. He pushed her on the bed, face down, as he hovered behind her.
“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered as he let go of her lips, now placing warm kisses to the nape of her neck.
“You will not think of another,” he ordered softly.
“I am not…” she began, but her words turned into a shocked gasp as he pulled her skirts up, cool air sweeping over her lower body.
“I cannot abide the thought of you with another,” he murmured, his hand caressing the back of her thighs, just above the garter.
“You are most unfair,” she said, turning her head to look up at him. “There was no one before you. How much more proof do you need?”
He did not answer, but hid his face in her neck. She felt his weight on her, his chest to her back, as if he wanted to curl around her.
The ability of any coherent sp
eech abandoned her, as she felt him pulling her dress and petticoats even higher, to her waist.
With wide eyes, she observed as he took a large pillow from the head of the bed, and tucked it under her, elevating her backside.
“What are you...?” She did not finish as he closed her lips with his.
His large hand splayed over her skin below her spine, squeezing one cheek.
“Your thighs are so slim, but I have always thought that you have a most deliciously rounded bottom,” he praised.
She gave a small cry as he bit lightly into that part of her body. It was surely indecent what he was doing, but she had no will to ask him to stop, and in truth, she did not want to. Despite the acute embarrassment, she felt too good with his new attentions to utter any protest.
He seemed to be done with touching her backside, because he pushed her legs apart, caressing the inside of her thigh.
She had a pretty good idea what his intention was. She hid her face in her enfolded arms, but arched herself up, wordlessly allowing him to continue.
He had no trouble reading her body language, as seconds later she felt his fingers on her most intimate place. He was kissing the base of her spine, his hand buried firmly between her thighs.
Her sighs and pants were silenced by the bed coverlet she buried her face into as he brought her to pleasure. There was no pain this time; he only stroked over her flesh, not trying to open her up with his fingers.
As she calmed down, he pulled the pillow from under her so she could roll over onto her back.
Shyly, she smoothed her skirts, looking up into his smiling eyes.
“You seem very pleased with yourself, Mr. Darcy,” she noted unable to stop her own smile.
He grinned, placing his hand on her hip. “You are correct, Mrs. Darcy.”
Gathering all her courage, and with her earlier resolution about the baby on her mind, she moved her hand down between their bodies, placing it on the front of his breeches, feeling his prominent hardness.
