Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle (86 page)

“Maxwell!”

“Well, it is the truth!”

They walked towards the kitchen, chuckling and talking about how the entire atmosphere of the house had changed now that the Master had found the one woman who truly completed him.

~~~*~~~

A sitting room
Later that evening

When they were reunited in her sitting room later that day, it was not far from Elizabeth’s mind that she and William had shared a similar evening at Darcy House only weeks before. On that occasion, the uncertainty of when they might meet again had caused Elizabeth great anxiety, but tonight she had a different kind of apprehension. 

Just as before, both were well turned-out—William, dashingly handsome in a dark blue suit with matching breeches, dark gold waistcoat, white shirt and cravat, while she wore a celestial blue crape
26
frock over a white satin slip, ornamented around the bottom with a deep border of tulle lace, embroidered with shades of dark blue silks and chenille. The gown was trimmed around the bodice and sleeves with the same embroidered lace.

During the weeks leading to the wedding, Lady Ashcroft had insisted on ordering several gowns for Elizabeth from her personal modiste, though she specified that only three must be completed before the wedding, this being one of those. At the time, Elizabeth had protested that her current wardrobe was sufficient, but William’s aunt had been adamant. And tonight, seeing the look of admiration on her husband’s face, she was glad that Lady Ashcroft had carried the argument. 

After thoroughly inspecting her gown, William’s eyes were drawn to her face and hair. The maid had swept up the sides, incorporating them into several thick braids which she entwined with blue ribbons. She then fashioned the braids into a stylish top knot, leaving the back to hang in loose ringlets. From the look in his eyes, it was obvious that her husband was pleased.

“Elizabeth, you look very beautiful.”

Elizabeth blushed. Nonetheless, she had learned her lesson well. “Thank you, my darling husband.”

William laughed. “I hope I have as much luck with my future requests, Mrs. Darcy.”

“You may or may not,” she teased. “It shall depend on whether I think them worthy of agreement.”

He bowed, making a sweeping gesture with his arm. “I concur with your reasoning, my love.” Then, tilting his head towards the door, he held out his arm. “Shall we?”

~~~*~~~

The dining room

Both Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth had tasted enough of the dinner to know that it was excellent. After all, Cook had gone to the trouble of creating a memorable meal—turtle soup, a salad of fresh greens and ripe pears with roasted and sugared nuts, a prime cut of beef with potatoes, onions and carrots and William’s favorite dessert, pound cake with pineapple-rum sauce. Upon proclaiming the pineapple sauce superb, Elizabeth was told that Pemberley not only boasted a conservatory but also a pinery—a special hot house for growing pineapples.

“I am amazed at all I do not know about Pemberley, Fitzwilliam. Your home must be a magical place.”

His expression became solemn as he reached across the table to take her hand and give it a squeeze. “It is
our
home. And it will be magical now that you are its mistress. I cannot wait to acquaint you with all that I admire about it.”

Despite the excellent food, neither party seemed to have much of an appetite. In fact, Elizabeth scarcely ate at all, and by the time the last course was served, she had begun to glance surreptitiously at the clock on the mantel. Wishing to ease her mind, William asked that a bottle of his best wine be brought to the library while he escorted her in that direction.

Once again alone with his wife, William popped the cork on the chilled Constantia
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and poured a glass for Elizabeth.  “I have waited to share this with you, Elizabeth.”

She gave her husband an angelic smile as he offered her the glass. She swirled the liquor, raised it to smell the aroma and then started to take a sip.

“Please wait. I wish to make a toast.”

Pouring himself a drink, he sat next to her on a small settee. Elizabeth seemed mesmerised as he touched her glass with his.

“To the woman I shall love for all eternity. It was your love, Elizabeth, that made me whole again. I adore you.”

Overwhelmed by emotion, they each sipped the sweet vintage. Then regaining composure, she touched his glass, declaring tenderly, “To the man I shall love and cherish until I die.”

As they drank to her toast, their eyes locked over the rims of the glasses and William’s grew shiny with tears. Blinking, he set his glass on a nearby table and took the one from Elizabeth, placing it next to his. He stood and pulled her to her feet, capturing her face in his hands. He kissed her as tenderly as possible, his lips moving over hers as gently as butterflies’ wings, before showering similar soft kisses over the rest of her face. Content for the moment, he quit the kisses to hold her tightly, letting his fingers caress her back in slow, circular motions and causing her to press more intimately against his body. Her deep sighs filled the silence until at length he whispered his deepest thoughts.

“Words are inadequate to convey the joy that fills me, Elizabeth. You cannot fathom how much I despaired after leaving you in Hertfordshire. That is the closest I have ever come to giving up completely. After I returned to London, I could not sleep or eat for weeks on end. My body ached for love of you. I paced the floors incessantly. I began to sleep in my study or in this library in hopes that my pacing would not awaken the household.” He smiled wryly. “After several glasses of brandy, I still could not sleep, but at least I could imagine the sprite of the Meryton bookshop sitting across from me.”

“Me? I am a sprite?”

“You are my sprite.” She closed her eyes as he smoothed an errant curl behind her ear. “I read many a love poem to your phantom.”

“I have married quite a romantic man,” Elizabeth whispered, her voice rough with emotion. Then standing on tiptoes she brushed his lips with hers. “I treasure that about you.”

His expression suddenly became sombre. “I have been lonely much of my life, and I worry that my desire for your companionship may weary you.”

“In time, you will learn that I will never tire of you.”

“My heart is gratified to hear that.” He kissed her pert nose as his cheerfulness returned. “I have a gift for you.”

Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “How sweet of you, but you do not have to give me presents.”

“Here is another directive, my love. Do not protest when I give you presents, as it will not deter me in the least. I intend to shower you with gifts as long as I live. Come!”

Taking her hand, he led her to the far corner of the library where he removed a certain heavy tome off an upper shelf. Behind it, a secret lever was imbedded in the woodwork, and upon pulling it, an entire section of the bookshelf opened to reveal a safe in the wall that was almost as tall as she.

Unlocking the vault, he pulled it open then reached inside to remove a blue journal from a shelf. “I wished to show you this book. It records the exact point when I began to live again.”

Elizabeth took the tome and opened the cover. At the top of the page, recorded in a masculine script, was
Fitzwilliam Darcy, April 29, 1812. 
“You wrote this about three weeks after you left Meryton.” Then beginning to read the passage, she added, “This tells of our meeting in the book shop.  You are speaking of me.”

“Yes. You must understand that I was desperate, Elizabeth. So desperate that I thought that by recording my despair, I might purge myself of it. Instead, as I recounted my recollections of you, something began to stir inside me. Something I had not allowed myself to feel in years. It was hope! Hope that there could be more to my wretched life. There could be you.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam…” Her voice faltered as he embraced her, kissing her silky hair as she leaned into him, still clutching the book.

“I had a history professor who encouraged us to keep journals, arguing that history and our posterity would be better served if we did. So I kept a diary for many years. At some point, I surmised that no one would benefit from reading page after page of misery, so I left off. Besides, by then, having an heir seemed an unattainable dream, and there would be no one to read them.”

Gently he took the book from Elizabeth, examining it thoughtfully. “Somehow this journal taught me that even sad memoirs can inspire hope.” Then, he looked at her. “I know that, after the early years, my parents did not have a loving marriage. Mother stopped keeping journals by their third anniversary. In view of that, I have a special request of you.”

He continued eagerly once Elizabeth nodded. “Would you begin a journal for our children and grandchildren? I wish to have at least one story of genuine love and devotion amongst the memoirs at Pemberley.”

“Yes,
our
love story!” Tears could no longer be stayed, and this time they rolled down her cheeks unchecked. Pulling a handkerchief from his pocket, William began to dry her tears.

“Please do not cry, darling. I did not mean to make you sad today of all days.”

Elizabeth shook her head, laughing as she replied, “I am not sad, Fitzwilliam. I am happy. You shall have to get used to seeing me cry.”

With a soft touch, he removed the last tears from her cheeks. “In that case, I shall look forward to making you cry for joy, my love. Now, I promised you a gift.”  

Turning, he laid the journal back in the safe and pulled out a package wrapped in cream-coloured paper and tied with red ribbons. Silently he offered it to her. Taking it, she swiftly pulled the ribbons and opened it to find a red leather journal. Embossed in gold across the front was
Elizabeth Rose Darcy.

Opening the cover, she discovered that something was written on the first page. Her expression grew serious, and a lump formed in her throat as she read.

Presented to my darling wife, Elizabeth Rose Darcy, on our wedding day,

July 15, 1812.

Only God knows the times and seasons and the number of days He has allotted us, but I shall thank Him each and every day that I am privileged to call you my own, no matter how short the measure. For eternity would not be long enough.

Forever your loving husband,

Fitzwilliam

Laying the book down, she threw herself into his arms. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, it is lovely! I will treasure it. I know that we shall have more than enough love to meet whatever the Lord sends our way.” She sniffled, shaking her head vigorously in order not to cry anew. “Today you have made me the happiest woman on earth!”

He captured her mouth in a kiss that quickly intensified from tender to torrid. His hunger for her soared, and in seconds he had backed them against the wall. His desire was evident as he pressed his body into hers while exploring the softness of her breasts. Feeling her back arch as she melded into him, his passion grew. Sliding one hand down to lift the hem of her gown, that same hand moved slowly back up her stocking-clad leg until it reached the silky skin of her naked thigh. Elizabeth moaned softly, bringing him to his senses.

Breaking the embrace, he stepped back as they both gasped for air. She looked so innocent, her eyes darker and wider than ever before, and he was reminded anew that she was not yet one and twenty.  Resolving to be very gentle, he brushed his fingers over her cheek.

“My love, I believe it is time we retired.”

Elizabeth nodded and in mere seconds their clothes were righted, the safe was secured and they exited the library. Shortly afterward, they stood outside the door to Elizabeth’s sitting room.

“When should I return, my love? Will half an hour suffice?”

Too affected to answer, Elizabeth nodded. With that, he kissed her forehead, turned the knob and pushed the door open. She walked just inside and stopped to look over her shoulder.

He murmured hoarsely, “Soon, Elizabeth.”

~~~*~~~

The instant the click of the door signaled that he had departed, Macie came rushing into the room from the dressing room. An accomplished lady’s maid at five and thirty, she had been hired by Lady Ashcroft to care for Elizabeth when she moved into Darcy House.

“Let me assist you, Mrs. Darcy. We have much to accomplish before your husband returns.” In a daze, Elizabeth followed her into the dressing room where Macie began to help her out of her clothes. Once down to her shift, the servant picked up a pitcher and poured some water into a large bowl. “The water is still warm, and here is a fresh towel.”

Elizabeth smiled, took the towel and walked to the bowl where she began to wash.

“While you are occupied, I shall collect your clothes from the wardrobe in your bedroom. I hung them there earlier. Oh, and Lady Ashcroft left you some of the lovely cream she swears by.” She motioned to a jar on the dresser. “It makes the feet and hands very soft, according to her.”

Before very long, everything had been accomplished, and Elizabeth was dressed in her new nightgown.

“You look lovely!” Elizabeth blushed as the maid held out the robe. “Do you wish to put on the robe or shall I take down your hair first?”

“The room is quite warm, so I shall wait.”

“Then if you will have a seat, I will begin.”

As Elizabeth moved to sit in the chair in front of the dressing table, Macie began to search the surface of the dresser as though looking for something. Apparently not finding it, she turned to examine the room, her expression one of puzzlement.

“I seemed to have misplaced the hairbrush. Perhaps I laid it down when I was retrieving your gown from the other room.”

With those words, the maid disappeared into the bedroom, and in the peaceful interlude, Elizabeth closed her eyes and tried to remember Aunt Audrey’s counsel of only a few days prior.

“Remember, Elizabeth, the marriage bed is a
marvellous
gift from God and something to look forward to! Give no weight to foolish old wives tales, but listen to one who has known a love like you share with Fitzwilliam. There may be some pain, but it is quickly forgotten with the passion that follows. Where each is dedicated to the happiness of the other, there is great satisfaction to be had in your husband’s arms.