by Ola Wegner
Elizabeth kept shaking her head. “Jane, was that not just the third time you had seen him?”
“I believe so,” she confirmed, not lifting her head.
“Still, you allowed him to kiss you?”
“Why are you being so harsh with me?” Jane’s voice was laced with hurt.
“Because the way you speak is so unlike you,” Elizabeth explained gently. “You wish to disregard a good man, because he has not kissed you yet?” Elizabeth shook her head. “Forgive me for saying this, Jane, but it is as if I am speaking with Kitty or Lydia.”
Jane’s blue eyes watered. “I am so confused.”
“Oh, sister.”
Elizabeth pulled her into her arms and they spoke no more. Glancing at the mantel clock, she noted that it was very late—an hour past midnight. So Elizabeth said goodnight and ran to her bedchamber. As quietly as possible, she crept through the sitting room and into the room she shared with her husband. Being careful not to wake him, she slipped under the covers and closed her eyes with a quiet sigh. She hoped that the sleep would come despite the disturbing conversation she had just had with Jane.
“At last,” a rich voice whispered as a strong hand pulled her into the folds of a large, warm body. “What took you so long? You spent all day with Jane. What had you to discuss so long tonight?”
“I shall have a long talk with your cousin once he comes to visit,” she announced sternly.
“Richard? What did he do?” Darcy murmured, his tone suggesting that he was not in the least interested in the answer.
“Well, he has filled Jane’s head with such nonsense, swept her off her feet! Now, she questions her feelings for Mr. Bingley.”
Not minding the darkness in the room, she peered closely at Darcy. She could have sworn that she had heard a small chuckle. “Why are you laughing?” she swatted him. “There is nothing amusing in this.”
“Nothing?” he asked, completely serious. “My only question is why you are keeping Bingley’s side so strongly?”
“He is a safe choice for her.”
“Collins was a safe choice for you, but you refused him.”
“How can you even compare the two situations or these two men?” she cried as she sat up, now quite agitated. “Mr. Collins is nothing like Mr. Bingley. My cousin is repulsive—not only as a man but as a human being, beginning with his total neglect of personal hygiene and ending with his utter stupidity.”
Darcy sat up as well, placing his chin on her shoulder as she had turned her back to him. “When I brought up Collins, I did not mean to offend you. I did it to remind you that you followed your heart, even if your mother thought your cousin was a good match for you. Did Jane criticise you? Did she try to change your mind?”
“No, she supported me, but...”
He turned her face to him, covering her lips with his finger to silence her. “You sister’s concerns in matters of the heart seem very similar to yours, I dare say. Moreover, they are adults—Jane, Bingley, and Richard. We should not intervene.”
“I cannot help but worry. I do not want Jane hurt again.”
“Your sister is a smart woman. She knows what she is doing. You worry too much.”
“I only want what is best for her.”
“I know you do, love. You have a good heart. Nevertheless, some things should be left to the people involved. I think that she would be grateful for your support no matter what her decision.”
Silently, she pushed at his chest. He obediently lay back.
Pulling up her nightgown, she crawled atop him.
“I think this is your favourite way,” he mentioned casually, as he helped her to settle herself.
“You do not enjoy it?” she asked shyly.
Securing his arms around her, he pulled her down, so their chests pressed together. “Always, but later I would wish to try something different.”
“Hmm.” she murmured, as his hands ran down her back, then back up to remove her gown entirely. Not needing to be reminded, she untied the ribbon at the end of her braid, freeing her hair and letting it fall down her shoulders.
“Easy,” he crooned as she took his manhood into her hand, rubbing it against her tender flesh which was already wet from the earlier touch of his fingers.
Slowly, she fit him inside of her. Each time she did this, she needed a short moment to adjust to the sensation. Catching her lower lip with her teeth, she rotated her hips slowly. This was a sign for her husband to push up as he held her firmly, his hands splayed on the top of her thighs. He was correct. This particular way of loving was a favourite of hers as it was the easiest and fastest way for her to reach her pleasure. And as he hit the perfect place inside in well measured thrusts, his thumb rubbing insistently at her special spot, she started to moan loudly and clench around him in what seemed only a minute.
Her heart racing, the pleasant currents running through her body, she slumped on his chest, even though she felt him still rigid inside of her.
“Here we go,” he groaned, lifting her off him and placing her face down on the bed.
“What are you doing?” she murmured as he lifted her bottom up and positioned himself behind her.
It was too late to object, as he was already slowly pushing inside of her. “I am not your horse” was at the tip of her tongue until he surged forward, making her moan instead.
Later, as they rested together on the pillows, her back to his, he enquired, “How did you like it?” He was very direct while in their bedroom and always questioned whether she enjoyed what they had done. For her it was still difficult to talk so openly about their lovemaking.
“It was different, but very pleasurable,” she assured, pulling the sheet over herself as a slight shiver shook her body.
“Cold?” he asked.
“A bit. If you could, would you please build a fire? I am aware it is the middle of the summer but... “
“Shush.” Then he silenced her with a kiss.
When she had lived at Longbourn, Mrs. Bennet had never allowed them to start a fire in the bedrooms in the period from April to October no matter how cold it was at night. At Pemberley Elizabeth could have a fire whenever she desired.
“What time is it?” she asked sleepily a few minutes later as the bright flames of the fire danced in her eyes.
“Almost three.”
“So late.” She snuggled into his chest when he returned to bed. “How will I ever get up in the morning?”
“I will tell your maid not to awaken you,” he said, tucking the coverlet about her.
“We have guests,” she murmured, her eyes closing. “I must see to them.”
“You need your rest. They will understand.”
The awareness of her husband’s strong arms wrapped around her, enveloping her in a cocoon of love and security, was the only comfort Elizabeth required in order to fall into a sound slumber.
Chapter Thirty-One
Anne Gardiner’s dark blue eyes focused intently on the sheet of music in front of her. A small frown formed between her eyebrows as she played her way through the complicated sonata.
Georgiana sat on the piano bench beside her, her eyes glancing between the notes and the child’s fingers which moved with a slight degree of awkwardness over the black and white keys.
The rest of the family was seated comfortably in the main area of the spacious drawing room. Elizabeth and Darcy sat close together with little Fred upon Elizabeth’s lap. On the opposite sofa was Mrs. Gardiner, listening intently to her daughter’s playing, with Robbie and Emily on both sides of her. Mr. Bingley and Jane occupied the smaller settee.
As soon as the last chord was played, loud, sincere applause echoed in the spacious room. Mrs. Gardiner rushed to the pianoforte and hugged and kissed her daughter.
“That was very good Anne. This is very difficult composition,” Georgiana offered enthusiastically, patting the child’s back.
Blushing furiously at all the attention, the girl whispered shyly, “I made
mistakes.”
“Your fingers are simply too short yet to reach some of the chords,” Georgiana soothed her concern. “I was twelve before I was able to play Handel well and you, my dear, are not even ten.”
Anne’s blush intensified as she ducked her head, mouthing a soft thank you.
Georgiana addressed Mrs. Gardiner. “I cannot believe that Anne has never had a proper master.”
Mrs. Gardiner hugged the girl to her again, stroking her long blond hair, while motherly pride oozed from her expression. “Only what Elizabeth and Mary taught her while we visited at Longbourn. We bought a pianoforte this March for her use only as neither I nor my husband ever learned music.”
“Yes, I noticed it during my visit. You chose a very good instrument. We have an identical one in the music room. “
“She has spent every free moment practising since the day the pianoforte appeared in our home,” Mrs. Gardiner boasted.
“She has a tendency to place her fingers in wrong order while playing more difficult passages, and her wrists are not relaxed enough,” Georgiana assessed professionally. “Nevertheless, these are small things and there is still plenty of time to correct those flaws before they become a bad habit and possibly make it difficult to advance in technique. However, she needs regular lessons from a good master.”
“We thought to start the lessons once we return home. We do not know any music masters though. I would be afraid we might place her in hands of someone unreliable.”
“My music master, Mr. Keiser, has not accepted a new student for many years but I could ask him to take on Anne. He enjoys the challenge of a talented student but absolutely refuses the mediocre ones. He is considered to be an eccentric, and from my own experience I can say that he is very demanding, but I could recommend no better. Be advised that at your first meeting his English may seem a bit difficult to understand, even though he came from Hamburg to London some twenty years ago and his wife is English.”
“What do you say, Anne?” Mrs. Gardiner peered at her daughter who nodded with enthusiasm.
Gaining Anne’s attention, Georgiana added, “You will have to practise several hours a day.”
Anne nodded. “I will practise, I promise.”
Georgiana’s expression clouded and she hesitated. Then she lowered her voice so that the others in the room could not hear her. “He is very expensive though as he usually writes music for operas and allows only a few students.”
“We will spare no expense,” Mrs. Gardiner spoke firmly in a proud voice. “If Anne has a talent, she deserves the best teacher.”
“Excellent,” Georgiana clapped her hands together. “I will write a letter to him and give you his address and a letter of recommendation as well. I think that it would be best for Mr. Gardiner to pay him the initial visit. He usually has more patience with fathers than mothers. If it becomes necessary to convince him, I will meet with him in person.”
Anne thanked both her mother and Georgiana, as a wide smile graced her pretty face.
“Papa!” A high pitched child’s cry brought everyone’s attention to Emily as she ran to the man who stood in the open door.
“Papa, Papa!” All the little Gardiners jumped from their seats. Even little Fred managed to struggle down from Elizabeth’s lap.
“I think that we should give them some private time,” Darcy suggested, his head tilting to the Gardiner family who were gathered in the middle of the room, hugging, kissing, and talking all at once.
Standing, he offered his hand to Elizabeth which she accepted with smile, her fingers wrapping around his palm.
Nodding in agreement with his friend’s words, Bingley stood as well, offering one arm to Georgiana and the other to Jane.
Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as she observed an intense blush spreading over Georgiana’s cheeks when she accepted Bingley’s arm. She looked up at Darcy to see whether he noticed, but her husband was oblivious to everything except the Gardiners. A smile tugged at his lips as he watched little Fred trying to climb higher in his father’s arms.
“We shall take a walk in the park,” Darcy announced, bowing his head as they passed by the merry family. “We will meet for afternoon tea.”
Mr. Gardiner made a move as if to greet the Darcys, but his wife and children, now firmly attached to his arms and legs, made it impossible.
The entire company decided to take a stroll around the lake as it was a pleasant walk and it was not so long a distance as to cause fatigue. However, the path was narrow, allowing only two people to walk the pathway side by side. There were five of them, so naturally one person was left to walk alone.
Elizabeth glanced with concern at Georgiana. Her face was turning red again, this time obviously in embarrassment. She had let go of Bingley’s arm and was taking slow steps backwards. Elizabeth knew that she was likely going to excuse herself, stammering that she needed to return to the music room in order to practise.
Shifting her gaze to her sister, Elizabeth gave Jane a beseeching look then nodded in Georgiana’s direction.
Jane had no trouble understanding what Elizabeth wanted from her, so she dropped Bingley’s arm and stepped around him to take Georgiana’s.
“My dear, let us walk out first. Our brother and sister always crave their privacy, and, as a dog lover, Mr. Bingley would like to inspect Brutus’s swimming abilities I am sure.”
Georgiana nodded with a shy smile, answering that Labradors are indeed known for their excellent swimming.
Bingley, not at all disappointed with the development, called for Brutus, then went into the nearest brush to look for the right stick. The pup seemed to guess what was coming, as he quickly abandoned his place by Elizabeth’s skirt and began running circles around Bingley, waggling his tail excitedly.
Making a wide gesture with his arm, Bingley threw the stick far out into the lake. Brutus shot like an arrow into the water and soon was back with a dripping wet stick in his mouth.
“See,” Darcy said to his wife as he pointed to the animal. “That is what he is supposed to do rather than cuddle with you in front of the fireplace.”
Brutus dropped the stick at Bingley’s boots and looked up at him with his tongue hanging out, clearly eager to repeat the experience.
“He likes both,” Elizabeth insisted.
“He should run and swim every day, Mrs. Darcy,” Bingley agreed as he again threw the stick into the water. “I have a good Labrador bitch, but she is brown, not yellow. I am curious what colour their litter would be.”
“We may try to cross them,” Darcy declared. “We can bring Brutus with us to Netherfield next spring when we travel for your wedding to Jane.”
Bingley stilled, staring blankly at his friend.
“Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth hissed, tugging sharply at her husband’s arm. “Jane told me about her engagement to Mr. Bingley in confidence. It was supposed to be a secret.” She glanced worriedly into the direction of her sister, afraid that she might have heard. Thankfully Georgiana and Elizabeth were a good hundred feet ahead of them and talking animatedly.
Darcy gave a dismissive shrug. “I understand that your sister wants to keep the news about the engagement private, not announcing it to the public, still this is my future brother,” he motioned to the Bingley. “Why should I not speak of it to him? He knows that he proposed and was accepted. When it was, Bingley? Two days ago?”
Bingley’s handsome face split in an ear to ear grin. “Yes, indeed two days ago I was blessed with the acceptance of my lady.”
“Congratulations,” Darcy gave Bingley a hug. “I hope that you will be as pleased with the marital state as I am.”
“I dearly hope so,” Bingley clasped Darcy’s back. “I would marry tomorrow, but Jane wishes to wait until the end of the mourning period which is only proper.”
“My sincere congratulations, Mr. Bingley. I cannot think of the better man for my beloved sister,” Elizabeth said warmly. Then her eyes shifted to Darcy and the smile disappeared from her f
ace. “You must forgive my husband who it seems does not understand the concept of keeping a secret.”
Darcy chuckled, tucking Elizabeth to his side. “Come here you little imp.” He leaned down to kiss her lips. The kiss was chaste and innocent compared to the kisses bestowed behind closed doors. Nevertheless, she hid her face into her husband’s chest when it ended, embarrassed at such a public display of affection.
“We are alone,” Darcy whispered above her ear.
Looking up, she saw Mr. Bingley walking away from them, Brutus following at his feet.
“You must be pleased,” Darcy noted, threading his arms around her waist. “Jane chose the one you wanted her to choose.”
Placing her hands on his arms she shook her head. “I am not certain of that.”
He frowned in confusion. “He proposed, she accepted, it is decided.”
She sighed. “Not exactly. Jane asked me to send a new letter to Colonel Fitzwilliam.”
“There is a simple explanation for that, I dare say. She may want to finish the matters with my cousin and inform him about her engagement to Bingley.”
“I think not,” Elizabeth said, turning to stare at the lake.
“Why?”
“My suspicion is that she wants a long engagement not to respect the mourning period as she told Mr. Bingley, but to secure herself some time. Colonel Fitzwilliam needs time to settle his affairs in Kent, does he not? An engagement is not a marriage. It can be broken.”
Darcy cocked his head. “Do you approve of such scheming? It seems cruel.”
“I...” she hesitated. “I have given some thought to it. Jane will always have my support. It is her life and her decision and it is not easy being a woman. I cannot reproach her conduct as my own life is far from exemplary.”
“What do you mean?”
Her expression was exceedingly sad as she faced him. “I married a man only for his fortune and the protection he could afford me and my family. He loved me, and yet I could not...I did not want to reciprocate. Was I not being equally as cruel towards him?” she whispered softly, her eyelashes sweeping over her pale cheeks as she avoided his gaze.
