“Need I remind you, madam, who is the master of this estate?” Fitzwilliam uttered in a low voice. “What on earth possessed you to speak to me in such a manner? And in full hearing of the servants!” He was attempting to use the full strength of his personality and position to assert his will, but he would never intimidate her.
“You presume to criticise me? You are too accustomed to arranging things to your own liking with no consideration for your wife.”
“What are you speaking of?” His seething annoyance was obvious through gritted teeth.
“You ordered them not to let me ride! Not one groom would saddle my horse. When I offered to do it myself, they suggested I speak to you because they were not permitted to let me near the stables. I am not a child to be managed and scolded.”
“Perhaps I might have informed you of my decision before,” he replied with haughty detachment, “but I do not regret it. If you wish to be out of doors, the entire park and the gardens are at your disposal.”
“Iwouldwalk—I prefer walking—but what pleasure will that bring me when you have instructed a footman to follow me whenever I step out of doors! When you pronounce edicts such as these, you do not think of my feelings at all.”
His temper was as little yielding as hers, so it surprised her when his eyes softened as she planted her hands on her hips hard, pulling her skirt taut across her stomach.
“I amthinking of you,” he replied in a quieter tone, as he bravely took a small step toward her. “I am thinking ofbothof you.”
Elizabeth exhaled forcefully and then looked down as Fitzwilliam grazed his fingertips across her stomach before taking her hands in his. Most of her anger fell away when she saw the look of tenderness and reverence across his features. “I will not remain confined for the next five months, regardless of what Lady Catherine says.”
“You could follow Lady Catherine’s advice and take up rolled-paper work,” he said, a smile tugging at his lips. “She wrote that if you panelled a tea caddy with filigree paper, she would display it in Mrs Jenkinson’s room.”
“I would prefer to be out of doors than rolling decorative paper.”
“I will not have you ride a horse.”
“You like to have your own way too well,” she said with a huff, “and I think you seek to have me at your disposal.”
“I shall not say you are mistaken, because you could not possibly believe me to have any desire to control you.” Elizabeth knew this to be true and felt it in vain to keep hold of her anger, but did not speak. “Nor do I believe that you truly feel that riding is the safest activity now.”
Elizabeth silently agreed, but was not yet ready to concede the point. Her husband made the first concession. “If Georgiana, or Jane when she arrives, joins you on your morning walks, I will tell the footmen they need not chaperone you.”
“I only fainted once, and you are ungenerous to keep reminding me of it. Besides, Jane and Georgiana walk too slowly, Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth pouted, and he laughed.
“If you will have me,Iwill join you every morning, and we can walk as swiftly as you can manage. I ought to have talked with you about not riding. I am too accustomed to having my own way, but you know I only thought of your well-being. I have been a husband for little over a year, and you cannot expect me to know everything that a husband who loves his wife ought to say and do.”
She grinned, and her husband’s tentative smile brightened into a sincere ray of sunshine that warmed her heart. “You do rather well. You began by choosing to marry the one woman who could have made you happy—even if you did not find me handsome at first.”
He placed his hands on her waist, slowly sliding them down to her hips and pulling her close. “Although I foolishly looked on you without admiration at that long-ago assembly, soon thereafter I acutely realised how mistaken I was in scarcely allowing you to be pretty.”
“What a mortifying realisation for your self-respect,” she murmured as she brought her hands to the back of his neck.
“Your figure caught my notice, as did the beautiful expression of your dark eyes.” Fitzwilliam brushed a gentle kiss across her forehead, on her cheek, and then finally on her parted lips.
The eager press of his lips on hers still sent a thrill of desire through her, and he moaned when Elizabeth slipped her tongue into his mouth. She relished in that familiar—and still wonderful—feeling of belonging that washed over her when she was in her husband’s arms.
“Will you forgive a proud but well-intentioned man?” he whispered.
“Only if you will forgive the ungovernable temper of the termagant that has taken the place of your wife. I do not know what has come over me as of late,” she added, “but I suspect this little one has made a tangle of my emotions. I am so sorry to be a trial to you.”
“You are a joy to me, Elizabeth. Come, we can take a turn in the garden before Fitzwilliam arrives.”
* * *
Three weeksafter Jane’s arrival, Elizabeth sat in her parlour, her sister sprawled out on the chaise, both ladies laughing. Since Jane had arrived at Pemberley, Elizabeth passed many hours with her and Georgiana. She could tell by the look on Fitzwilliam’s face, when he came in at the end of the evening to find them still talking, that he missed her. He said good evening to Jane and offered his wife a lingering gaze that suggested he would be delighted to see Elizabeth join him sooner rather than later.
“Our practice this afternoon was not the first time you waltzed?” Jane asked with a gasp. “I do not believe it! You danced a waltz with Darcy last spring? You could not even claim a friendship with him at the time.”
“Georgiana is not here, so let us blame her, for it was she who offered to teach me. How could I not agree to dance with her brother? It would have been rude to refuse.”
“It is a pretty dance when done properly. I fear I made a poor impression on Colonel Fitzwilliam with all my missteps.” Jane coloured. “I could hardly reply to his conversation without blushing for being held so closely. I do not think I shall dance at your ball.”
