The Secrets of Darcy and Elizabeth: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (17 page)

“Elizabeth,” he breathed. “You are beautiful – a vision.”

“Thank you.” She was certain she had blushed a bright red.

He strode to her and positioned himself between her legs where she sat on the edge of the bed. Pulling her toward him, he kissed her very thoroughly. She responded with equal passion, swept up in the sensation of his hands exploring her curves through the thin fabric of her nightgown. But, then he pulled back. “I do not think we should…tonight…we cannot take the risk that any activity could set back your recovery.” She knew her face betrayed disappointment. “We can still kiss and enjoy each other’s company,” Darcy hastened to assure her.

“Am I to be consulted about the activities on my wedding night?” She asked tartly. “The doctor believes I will be fit to travel in two days. I feel well. I think I am strong enough for amorous activities!”

Taking her hand, he pressed it ardently to his lips. “I thought you might require some time to accustom yourself to the idea of -- after all, we did not have a long engagement.”

She gave a little laugh. “That is true. But William, I - I want to consummate our marriage. I want to be your wife in all ways—”

“You should not experience an obligation. There is plenty of time for—”

“What I experience is not
obligation
. What I experience is…desire….” As she exhaled the last word she saw Darcy’s eyebrows shoot up, but she persisted. “The kisses on the fainting couch were just a taste….I am greedy. I want more.” She blushed and looked down as she said it, feeling very wanton, but it was true. Perhaps it was not wanton to express such desires to her husband.

He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to more easily view her face. “Truly?” He gazed into her eyes with concern, but also hope.

“Yes.” Boldly she leaned forward and initiated a kiss which began innocently enough, but soon turned passionate.

When they finally separated, they were both panting. Darcy gave a huge sigh. “Very well, Mrs. Darcy, against my better judgment you have convinced me that I must seduce you on our wedding night.”

She laughed, but abruptly William stood and picked her up. He settled her gently in the center of the immense mahogany four poster bed and then stretched himself alongside her. His bold, admiring look alone was enough to make her blush, but she met his gaze.

Darcy’s hand idly touched one silken curl where it rested on a pillow. “I do not want you to be scared or nervous.” His voice was low and husky.

“If you keep kissing me like that I will not be at all nervous,” she said with a little laugh.

“I cannot tell you how often I have imagined this, but never thought it would come to pass.” He confessed.

Their eyes locked. “I have imagined this as well,” she said softly.

The information seemed to startle him. “Truly?” Such a response was far more than he could hope for. Then he gave her a warm smile. “I hope tonight will not fall short of your imagination.”

She glanced down to see his hands undoing the ties on her nightgown. He leaned over and kissed her with undeniable passion, pressing her against the soft mattress. Then he sat up and divested himself of his shirt. Elizabeth gazed at his chest with frank admiration. “Mr. Darcy, I have every confidence you will exceed my expectations.”

He laughed and kissed her again. Then they had no more time for talking.

The next morning, Darcy awoke from a confused dream and for a moment had trouble recalling where he was. But when he opened his eyes, he saw a sleeping Elizabeth curled up next to him. As the events of the previous day flooded back to him, he felt a great rush of love for the sleeping woman.
It
is not a dream! We are indeed married.
He was the most fortunate man alive!

Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes, smiling when she saw him. He pulled her close to his chest, and – before she could say anything – his lips were pressed against hers hungrily. No conversation had passed their lips, but he knew they were going to be late for breakfast.

Darcy and Elizabeth lingered one more day with the Whitmores, but then they reluctantly agreed it was time to leave. Mr. Flouret had examined Elizabeth and pronounced her well enough to travel with the caveat that she should not exert herself excessively or allow herself to be chilled. The doctor was still concerned about her cough, but was heartened that it had not worsened.
Nor has it improved markedly,
Darcy thought to himself.

He would be happy to delay until Elizabeth was stronger, but she was stubborn in her desire to depart. She worried that every day it would become more difficult to leave the country. Hostilities with England would only escalate, and Darcy was in more danger than she. The thought of leaving for England without him was intolerable to her.

Elizabeth had also expressed concern about her family. Darcy had sent brief notes to the Gardiners and to Georgiana explaining the reason for their delay – although he had not revealed how ill Elizabeth had truly been. But he had cautioned them against writing back; he did not want anything to draw attention to their presence in France. The Gardiners would have passed the news along to Longbourn. Nevertheless she was certain that all the assembled Gardiners and Bennets would be anxious until she was safely home.

The night of their final dinner at the manor, Darcy and Whitmore discussed the safest method for arriving in England. Whitmore insisted on sending them in his coach with two footmen despite Darcy’s dismay. “I appreciate the offer, Whitmore, but I cannot possibly put you to so much trouble.”

Whitmore demurred. “It is no trouble at all. We have another carriage we can use until our footmen bring the other back after your departure. We can easily spare the men.” He casually helped himself to some the beef.

“Whitmore—” Darcy began.

Whitmore interrupted him. “I insist! I only wish I could send more men to accompany you. Who knows what kind of dangers you might encounter on your journey? Marie and I will not rest easy until we have done everything we in our power to see you safely on your way.” Sitting next to him at the table, Marie nodded emphatically in agreement.

Darcy sighed. “Very well. Where should we depart from?” He stared at the fine linen tablecloth, but was visualizing a map of France.

“I have given it some thought. Calais is out of the question; that is where they will expect to find Englishmen. Instead you should consider Dunkirk. It will be a longer trip from here and it will take you more time to reach England, but the Dunkirk port has fewer passenger ships and more cargo ships. You can probably find a cargo ship or fishing boat that would take you to England for the right price. If that proves too dangerous, you could consider Boulogne-sur-Mer.”

“Which town is less likely to be full of soldiers seeking wayward Englishmen?” Darcy asked, taking a sip of his wine.

“Truly, I believe Dunkirk. Boulogne has some naval vessels, although it is not a major port.”

Darcy considered for a moment. “Very well.” He turned suddenly to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, how is your Italian?”

“Passable, but not as good as my French.” She appeared a little startled at the abrupt shift of topic. “Actually I am at my best if I can sing it.”

He smiled. “I do not believe that singing will be required. My plan is that if we are challenged by the police or military, we will tell them we are Italian, Signor Guillermo Rossi and his wife Lisabetta.” He raised his wine glass in a mocking toast.

Whitmore nodded his approval of the plan. “You would never be able to convince a Frenchman that you are a native. But, they probably cannot tell if you speak Italian with an English accent.”

“As long as we do not encounter any actual Italians.” Elizabeth said with a wry smile.

Dinner over, they rose from the table. Elizabeth complimented Marie on the meal and on her cook’s skills, but Darcy noticed she had eaten little. Whitmore clapped Darcy on the back. “You have thought this all through. It is a solid plan.”

Darcy did not enjoy nearly as much confidence. “I hope it will be enough.” The thought of leading Elizabeth into such danger was very disconcerting.

“Come to my study and I shall show you my maps. The more you know about the geography, the better you can make decisions.” Whitmore led Darcy off to his study while Marie took Elizabeth to the drawing room for tea.

The next morning they were up early and out the door after saying goodbye and expressing heartfelt gratitude to their hosts. They settled into the coach across from each other – as tradition dictated – and Darcy insisted on tucking a blanket around Elizabeth to stave off chills. Darcy rapped on the roof, and the coach started moving with a lurch. Darcy immediately moved so he could sit next to Elizabeth and hold her close.

Elizabeth watched the beautiful French countryside move past the window, attempting to appreciate these last glimpses of her first trip abroad. However, it was difficult to focus on the scenic beauty. Instead she was torn between anxiety about how they would escape to England and the very pleasurable distraction of Darcy’s proximity.

When she thought about how they would escape France, she was more apprehensive on Darcy’s behalf than on her own. The French government would most likely release her if they were captured together; however, Darcy could languish in jail for however long the war lasted, perhaps years. That must not happen! But what could she possibly do if they were captured? Pondering the question, she drew closer to Darcy, who shifted on the leather coach seat and stroked her hair with his hand.

Dusk was falling as the coach rode into the small town where they would stay the night. The weather had been cooperative and they had made good time, only making a brief stop to change horses and eat the meal that Marie’s cook had prepared for them. They wanted to minimize their contact with the general populace; although the average French man might not harbor animosity to a traveling English couple, the two countries
were
at war. They could not take the chance that they might encounter someone who would alert the authorities.

They stopped at an inn that Whitmore had recommended and Andre, the footman, went to secure lodgings for his “Italian” master, keeping Darcy from betraying himself with English-accented French. Their rooms were small, but well-appointed and clean. Andre had asked for dinner to be brought up to their room, so they spoke very little to the inn’s staff.

Darcy watched Elizabeth with concern. He could tell that the trip had fatigued her – and that she was attempting to conceal the extent of her fatigue, although she could not hide the worsening of her penetrating cough. He had no doubt the travel was taking its toll on her health. She did not protest as he picked her up and placed her on the large bed’s embroidered coverlet – and her face showed relief when he suggested they retire early.
Only one more day of travel and then we should be away to England,
he thought grimly.
If we are not captured first.

Elizabeth awoke early as the golden light of dawn was just beginning to shine in. Darcy was still asleep beside her and she took a moment to admire his sleeping form. It was taking her time to accustom herself to waking up beside him, but the sight of his face always made her smile tenderly. As if aware of her scrutiny, his eyes opened and he gave her a warm smile. “How are you feeling today?” He asked, concern darkening his eyes.

“Well,” she assured him. “And we are not due to depart for at least an hour. How
will
we pass the time?” She leaned in to kiss him, inhaling his deliciously male scent.

When they separated, he smiled at her. “I appreciate the sentiment, my love, but the walls in these inns are very thin. Other inhabitants are likely able to hear everything we say and do.”

Elizabeth pondered this for a moment. He expected her to express dismay and was perversely disappointed himself that she merely looked thoughtful, but then she smiled impishly, “I can be
very
quiet if necessary.”

“Mrs. Darcy,” he marveled. “You are full of surprises.” Likewise, Andre was surprised to find that the usually punctual Darcys were late departing from the inn.

The good weather continued all that day and they arrived at Dunkirk in late afternoon. Knowing that no boat would undertake a voyage so late in the day, they spent the night at another inn, attempting to blend in with the other guests. The night passed without incident and they reached the docks just as the sun was rising the next day. The port was crowded with fishing vessels, small cargo ships, and pleasure craft.

With the help of Andre and the other footman, Jean-Paul, they sought out small, but seaworthy boats whose owners might be persuaded to transport them to England. Darcy tried to be careful about whom he approached since the wrong person might report them to the authorities. One fisherman had already turned Andre down rather brusquely despite what the footman assured Darcy was the offer of a very generous payment.

Darcy glanced around the port. Most of the boats were big passenger or cargo ships bound to far distant ports. Before war broke out, there had been smaller sailing vessels that plied the waters to England and back daily, but no one would engage in such a dangerous activity now – at least not openly. The other boats of that size mostly belonged to fishermen. Darcy eyed the naval ships at one end of the wharf and hoped that they would not attract the attention of anyone on those vessels.