CHAPTER THREE
A WEDDING SEALED
There wassomething to be said for waking up married to a man one had previously considered insufferably proud—particularly when that man was currently tracing lazy patterns on one’s bare shoulder while pale December sunlight filtered through the broken shutters.
Elizabeth stirred in Fitzwilliam’s arms, immediately aware of his warmth against her back and the solid weight of his arm across her waist. She blinked at the strange water-stained ceiling above and turned her head to find Fitzwilliam Darcy watching her, his dark eyes soft with an expression she had never seen in them before. Gone was the stern, disapproving gentleman of Hertfordshire assemblies. In his place lay a man whose features, relaxed in the gentle dawn light, bore a vulnerability that made her heart constrict oddly in her chest.
“Good morning, Mrs. Darcy.” His voice was still rough with sleep.
“Is it?” she asked, purposely deflecting from his use of her new title, one that had not yet been formalized. “I confess I have not had sufficient experience with mornings such as these to properly judge their quality.”
His answering smile transformed his countenance, erasing the habitual severity she had come to associate with him. “It is the finest morning of my life,” he said, and the sincerity in his voice rendered her speechless.
She reached to touch his face, tracing the strong line of his jaw. How strange to be granted such liberty with a man she had once claimed to despise. Stranger still to find comfort in his presence when the rest of her world had collapsed around her.
“Elizabeth,” he said, capturing her hand and pressing a kiss to her palm, “there is something I must ask you.”
Her heart stuttered. What now? Had he reconsidered in the cold light of day? Did he regret what had passed between them? She steeled herself for disappointment, but tried to appear nonchalant.
“How old are you?”
The question was so unexpected that she laughed. “Of all the things you might wish to know about your… about me, you ask my age?”
“It is a matter of some legal importance,” he explained, though his smile belied the formality of his words. “If you are under twenty-one, certain permissions would be required for what I am about to propose.”
Elizabeth froze. She wouldn’t turn twenty-one until next May, but what was six months? Hadn’t a math tutor taught her about rounding to the nearest whole number?
“One and twenty,” she replied evenly. “My birthday is in May.”
Relief softened his features. “Excellent. Then there is no impediment to our marriage. I intend to make you my wife today, Elizabeth Bennet, if you will have me.”
“Yes, I will, but are you certain, Fitzwilliam? Once done, it cannot be undone. Your family, your connections—they will hardly rejoice at your choice of bride, especially under such circumstances.”
He took her face between his hands, his gaze unwavering. “I have never been more certain of anything. As for my family, they willadapt or they will not. Either way, it changes nothing. Besides,” his tone softened, “we might say we got night and day mixed up.”
His words brought a fierce blush to her cheeks. Of course. They had already enjoyed the marriage bed. Unable to meet his ardent gaze, she focused on those talented hands, face burning.
“Though I warn you, you are gaining a wife with neither dowry nor connections worthy of your notice. My sole contribution to this marriage is myself.”
“It is the only contribution I desire, Elizabeth, you,” he said, and kissed her with a gentleness that belied the strength she knew he possessed.
When they parted, Elizabeth found herself smiling. “Well, Mr. Darcy, how does one arrange a wedding at dawn in a coaching inn? I confess this particular scenario was not covered in my education.”
“First,” he said, rising from the bed with new purpose, “I shall inquire after any clergymen who might be staying at the inn, or in the vicinity. The storm likely stranded more than just ourselves last night.”
“And if there are none to be found?”
“Then I shall be very persuasive with whichever clergyman serves the parish of Barnet.” He began to dress with efficient movements. “The Church of England may frown upon irregular unions, but even the most principled man can be convinced to bend the rules when presented with sufficient motivation.”
“By which you mean money,” Elizabeth observed dryly.
“Indeed. Money and the Darcy name, which carries weight even in these parts.” He pulled on his still-damp boots with a grimace. “Rest assured, I shall return with a clergyman and the necessary paperwork before the hour is out.”
“And I shall wait here, contemplating the extraordinary turn my circumstances have taken,” she replied. “From cast-out daughter to prospective bride in less than a day. My mother would be simultaneously horrified and delighted,were she to know.”
Darcy paused at the door. “Would you prefer to inform your family? We could delay our departure for London, send word to Longbourn?—”
“No,” Elizabeth said firmly. “They made their choice when they cast me out. I have made mine in accepting you. Let us leave the past where it belongs.”
