Darcy Saga 01 Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy (13 page)

However, Elizabeth noticed none of this initially, because her eyes were immediately captured by the painting on the wall above the vanity. She gasped and her trembling hand touched her mouth as tears filled her eyes. She was speechless.

"William... how... where... I do not understand..."

He was beside her, one arm around her waist, an expression of incomparable exhilaration on his face. "Do you like it, my darling? I discovered it in a gallery in London, quite by accident. It instantly reminded me of Hertfordshire and the meadow near Longbourn where we met on the day you accepted me." His voice throbbed with emotion.

It was a landscape that uncannily resembled her childhood home. The field of knee-high green grasses almost appeared to wave in the sunkissed air. A small stream cut crookedly through the middle, a narrow stone bridge spanning one edge. In the distance stood a house of beige bricks obscured by the faint wisps of English mist hugging the ground. The work was exquisite, but even if it had been of poor quality, she would have been tremendously moved.

Lizzy could instantly understand why the painting had struck her husband. It was not the moor near Longbourn where they encountered each other that fateful day in late September, drawn to each other as if by magic, but stunningly similar. She could almost see their figures in the haze, finally speaking openly of the love they shared.

Elizabeth's thoughts and emotions were in riot. She wanted to cry, to laugh, to hold her husband tenderly, to passionately make love to him right there. He surprised her continually in his ability to show his adoration for her, his devotion. For an agonizing second she experienced an acute stab of unworthiness. What had she done in life to deserve such an extraordinary man? The answer was nothing... his love was a gift and she would spend her life dedicated to the task of loving him in return with equal fervor.

With tears coursing down her cheeks, she turned to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, holding him as close as possible, her face pressed against his chest. She could not think of the proper words to express herself, so she merely held him. For a very long while they stood thus, embracing in love without thoughts of passion, content to hear the other breathing, the warmth of their bodies seeping into each other. Unaware of who moved first, Darcy kissed her tears away with the utmost tenderness while they were still locked together in sweet harmony. Softly murmured endearments proceeded from both their mouths in a welter of need to articulate the consuming love they both felt.

Eventually their eyes met, hers shimmering with tears and his the pure blue of a cloudless summer sky. He smiled a smile that lit his face and caused Elizabeth's knees to weaken. "So, you approve of the painting?" he whispered in his melodious voice.

Elizabeth laughed and bent her head to his chest momentarily before looking back at him, mirth dancing in her eyes. "Yes, my love, I 'approve' of the painting." She giggled and hugged him again. "Thank you! It is.... unbelievable. I am at a loss for words. You will never cease to amaze me, William. With each passing day I realize how blessed I am to have you as mine and how I shall enjoy being your wife."

"Well, that is a relief! I was beginning to wonder," he teased, kissing her nose. He snatched her hand and led her toward a door she had not noted previously. He stopped and assumed a melodramatic tone, "The tour commences, Mrs. Darcy! Now to my favorite room in all of Pemberley, or at least hereafter it shall be. The chamber which shall be subjected to the greatest of joys, pleasures untold, passion of the highest order, ecstasy unparalleled!" and with a flourish he opened the door to his bedchamber.

Elizabeth continued to laugh at her husband's silliness as she crossed the threshold. Immediately she was enveloped by a profound sensation of peace and contentment. In one swift glance she knew this room was perfect; it was home. The walls were covered with rich mahogany paneling and cream wallpaper printed with a twining design of autumn leaves. The ceiling was also cream colored with intricately scrolled beams of polished mahogany.

The massive four-poster bed was carved mahogany with curtains of burgundy and gold velvet and a coverlet of cream with burgundy edging. A gigantic fireplace with a roaring fire gave the room a comforting glow. The Turkish rug was an incredible design in blues and gold. Two large windows, each with gauzy curtains lining thick ones of damask, flanked a set of French-style doors that opened onto a balcony facing south with an incredible view of the fountain-accented lake and extensive lawn. Across the room, beyond the bed, three more large windows faced east. The chamber itself was generous in size but sparingly furnished, creating a sublime atmosphere of openness.

Elizabeth walked about the room touching and admiring. Many of her husband's personal touches were evident: a forgotten book on the bed stand, a miniature of Georgiana, a decanter of brandy and several glasses with
F.D.
engraved on them, a pair of slippers next to the bed, and a small pillow with Parsifal's likeness embroidered on it. She had not previously contemplated what William's tastes might be. Having not seen any of the private rooms on her previous visits, nor when visiting Darcy House in London, she had had no way to make a judgment. Yet, looking about this room, she knew it was absolutely him. More amazing, it was absolutely her! The rich colors, the lack of pretension, and the hominess were precisely as she would desire.

Darcy was watching her intently and nervously. "I had some furnishings removed and purchased the rug and coverlet to replace what I had before, they being quite old. These have been my rooms for many years, my love, so I am afraid they have been indelibly stamped with my personality. However, it is important to me that you find this suite to your liking. Any suggestions you have are welcome."

He moved to where she was standing and took her hands, staring intently into her eyes. "Elizabeth, I am aware that we have not discussed this and I do not wish to embarrass you." He swallowed and then continued with a slight blush on his cheeks. "Convention would dictate that these remain my chambers and you have your own. I would never presume to force my wishes upon you nor request you submit to any action that is unfavorable to you. However, I have been alone for far too long and have no appetite for solitude. My fervent hope has been that you would choose to share my chambers with me at all times. However, I will understand if this is not... Elizabeth, why are you laughing? This is serious!"

"I am sorry, my dear, but... Fitzwilliam Darcy, for all your wisdom, maturity, and authority, you can be such a baby sometimes!" She could not stop laughing. "Any time we allowed convention to dictate our relationship, we ended up miserable. It was not proper for me ever to tour Pemberley, all things considered, or you to rush after me as you did. Rules of society would not have had you dash to Lambton to invite total strangers to dine at your house. And it most assuredly was neither proper nor conventional for us to become betrothed while unescorted and without a prior courtship! I would say that flouting convention has served us quite well, and I do not intend to deviate in this matter!"

She placed her hands around his face and pulled him toward her until their foreheads were touching. "After all we have suffered to be together, after the love we have shared these past two days, did you honestly suppose for one second that, day or night, I would want to be anywhere but right next to you?" she inquired tenderly.

His only reply was to kiss her, deeply and ardently. He pulled back slightly. "I love you, Elizabeth."

"And I love you, William." Kiss.

"You can make any changes you wish." Kiss.

"Thank you, but I love everything exactly as it is." Kiss.

"You will stay with me each night?" Kiss.

"Forever, and all day, too, until you are sick of me." Kiss.

"That will never happen!" Kiss.

"I
can
be annoying at times." Kiss.

"Do you truly think me a baby?" Kiss.

"Only occasionally, beloved, and in the most endearing way. Now hush and kiss me!"

Darcy complied with abundant enthusiasm. Elizabeth unbuttoned Darcy's waistcoat, ran her hands up his chest, and then moved her fingers to his cravat and began working the knots. With immeasurable strength of will, he stayed her hands. With a heavy sigh and a groan, he took a step back and in a trembling voice whispered, "I must be insane!" He ran a hand over his face. "It is time to prepare for dinner, beloved. God knows it is the
last
thing I wish to do right now, but we should." He stated sarcastically, "I am attempting to employ some of that maturity and wisdom you alluded to."

She chuckled shakily and fought against an excruciating urge to overpower his "wisdom and maturity," positive he would capitulate. She managed to behave, though, and they parted reluctantly to their respective dressing rooms.

It took a bit of time for her to figure out how to ring for Marguerite. While she waited, she further inspected the room, opening the many drawers on the vanity and discovering numerous items that had not previously belonged to her. Among the treasures were tiny notes written in Darcy's hand with phrases such as: "Because I love you" or "They sparkled like your eyes" or "It matches your green gown" or "I adore you in red."

A box next to the vase of flowers had a card with "To my wife, my matchless pearl" written on it. She hesitated, but curiosity overcame her so she opened it. Inside rested a spectacular strand of pearls. Elizabeth collapsed onto the bench, too overcome with all that had happened since she arrived at Pemberley to think clearly. Marguerite entered moments later to encounter her mistress motionless and staring off into space.

"Madame, are you well?"

"What? Oh, yes. Forgive me, Marguerite; I am simply feeling a bit overwhelmed."

"I understand, Mistress. If I may suggest a bath? I know that always brightens my spirits."

A half hour later, Elizabeth was dressed and feeling her old self again. She was well aware of why her husband had a penchant for her and pearls, so she decided to wear the gown she had worn at the Netherfield Ball and she requested Marguerite adorn her hair with a pearl-encrusted comb she found in the vanity and, naturally, she wore the necklace. As a final touch she nestled a sprig of lavender and a single white rose between her breasts.

Darcy was awaiting her in his sitting room, which she had not yet viewed. Her eyes were only for her husband, however. Why was it that she still found herself dazzled by how handsome he was? She supposed it was because of her initial reaction to him, that his attractiveness had been marred by a ridiculing, forbidding countenance and a disagreeable nature.
What a fool I was!
she thought, not for the first time.

The fiery expression crossing his visage left no doubt of his opinion of her ensemble. His provocative eyes ranged leisurely down her body and her heart instantly began beating erratically. He walked to her slowly, a sensual smile on his lips. He stopped before her and delicately touched her skin just below the necklace.

"These were my mother's," he said, eyes on the pearls and the neck they graced. "I knew they would be beautiful on you." His fingers moved lightly across her collar and along her shoulder, and then grazed the edge of her gown until reaching the flowers. He met her eyes with one brief, smoldering gaze, and then lowered his face to the flowers. He inhaled their scent, warm breath tickling her skin, and then placed two soft kisses onto the tender flesh on either side of the corsage.

If his sturdy arm had not encircled her waist, Elizabeth was certain she would have fallen. "William," she whispered, almost pleading, arms already around his neck, fingers in his hair.

He was studying her face with its half-opened eyes and parted lips. "You are so beautiful, my Lizzy. I love you so!" The following kiss was encompassing and demanding.

They were lost and they both knew it. Passion had overtaken them and dinner was completely forgotten. Luckily, or unluckily, Darcy's valet chose that precise moment to knock on the door announcing that dinner was served. Even so, it seemed forever before they came to their senses. Darcy cleared his throat huskily before calling out that they would be right down.

He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers, moving his hands to her waist regretfully and with a struggle. "I require a moment," he stated flatly.

Lizzy glanced to the front of his breeches and smiled. Her arousal was indisputably intense but without the visible physical ramifications.

Dinner was served in the smaller of the two dining rooms that Pemberley had. (Elizabeth would discover this fact later.) It was the same room she had dined in with her aunt and uncle. They were both quite hungry, luncheon having been a basket shared in the carriage hours ago.

They were mounting the stairs to return to their room when Mr. Keith appeared. "Mr. Darcy," he bowed. "My apologies, Sir and Madame. Mr. Darcy, there is a matter of some urgency. Forgive me for interrupting but I fear it cannot wait."

"Of course, Mr. Keith. Allow me to escort Mrs. Darcy to her rooms, and I shall meet you in my study momentarily."

They proceeded up the stairs. "Do you think it serious, William?" Elizabeth asked.

"I hope not. However, Mr. Keith is not an alarmist and would not disturb me today of all days if it was not important. Do not fret, my love; I will return as soon as possible. If this matter demands my attention for any length of time, I will send word." He kissed her at her door. "Wait for me," he whispered, and then he was gone.

He was gone for more than an hour. He had sent word that he was needed at the stables and was unsure how long it would be. Elizabeth freshened up, donned another nightgown, and used her time to wander around the suite. She meandered about his dressing room, stunned at the quantity of clothing he possessed. His familiar scent permeated the air. The personal items on his dresser were arranged in perfect order, all of them dear to her because they were his. She impulsively grabbed one of his robes and put it on, wrapping herself in his scent and oddly comforted knowing that the soft fabric had touched his body.