Darcy gestured for her to rest her head on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to the top of Elizabeth’s hair. “Well, I did run off with a woman I had no intention of marrying. It could have caused a shameful scandal.”
He felt her chuckle against his shoulder. “In our circle, amongst her old friends and London life, everyone knows Georgiana was an heiress who ran away with a scoundrel who lost your respect. In her village in Scotland, she is just the widow of a bad husband. Pitied, I suspect, but not judged the same way.”
“I agree she feels humiliated. She said she would not allow us to stay in her humble home when I asked if we could visit, but when I said we would take lodgings nearby, she relented that we could visit.”
“She will not come to Pemberley?”
“No, she refused. Maybe someday, when she believes me when I say I forgive her.”
“I am sure at fifteen she thought she was brave.” Elizabeth’s fingers threaded through his hair. It was an idle gesture of affection, but it made his thoughts drift from the past toward the present. “She was rejected by society, held in contempt by all she knew and loved, for the sake of a man who she thought loved her above all others. A man she thought she could change.”
“However little just it is, women are defined by the men who sired them and the men they marry. That is why one’s choice of husband is so critical.”
“That is why I thoughtlessly put myself into a position to either be ruined or marry a man I had known for a week.”
Elizabeth sat up and grinned at him, and he laughed a little. She was so sweet to want to cheer him. “Would you say running away with me worked out well for you, dearest?”
“I was fortunate. The consequences might have been dire.”
“The consequence was I found the desire and love of my life.”
Her smile turned more thoughtful as her fingers continued to rake through his hair. She leant toward him with an expressive look. “Do you want to forget all about it for a little while?” she whispered.
He would much rather fall into the waiting arms of his wife than think about his sister. He nodded and lifted her hips to hint that she should straddle his waist, and she moved and shifted her skirts, but she was still not as close as he needed.
Darcy kissed her and spread his hand over her back, pressing her closer while wrapping his other hand behind her neck and running his fingers through the strands curling at the base of her hair. Elizabeth locked her arms around him, kissing him back with equal intensity, but it was only when he moved a hand to her breast that she released a needy moan. His hand closed around her breast, his thumb and forefinger finding her nipple through the material of too many layers. She whimpered, her head falling back at the sensation.
He could hardly get close enough to her on this small sofa. He stood quickly, lifting Elizabeth with him. She gave a delighted shriek of surprise as he carried her to the desk. He looked into her eyes to see if she wanted the same thing, if this was how she wanted to distract him from any sorrowful thoughts from the past. Smiling, she raised herself until she caught his lips again, one hand grasping his hand to lead it up her thigh, encouraging him to push her skirts up to her waist. Only then did he unfasten his trousers and stand between her legs. “I love you.”
“Show me,” she said, hooking a leg over his hip.
Carefully, he pushed inside, a low groan escaping him as he did. Heleant over her, moving slowly, thrusting in and out with a measured rhythm, feeling smugly satisfied when she lifted to meet each surge of his hips. She moaned, her back arching as he hit a particular spot inside her, her breasts pushing against his chest.
When she begged him for more through a ragged breath, he stood up, gripping her hips, and moved with increasing vigour while he enjoyed the vision of his wife splayed across his desk. She constantly made sounds, from soft breaths to erratic moans and gasps, lifting her hips to meet each of his thrusts that were building into a deeper and quicker rhythm.
He reached down between them, touching her, causing her to moan. He slowly built the rhythm again, her voice echoing through the room as she cried out, her fingers clutching at anything she could find on the desk to hold on it. Bending to kiss her, she finally clung to the fabric of his coat as she shook. His release came without warning, making him groan long and low until he collapsed against her.
When he stood, he looked down at Elizabeth. Her chest was heaving, eyes lidded and dark, and looking delightfully dishevelled. “I love you too,” she murmured, answering him from earlier as she sat up to arrange her skirts.
As Darcy dressed, he noticed the coloured marking stitch on the hem of his shirt. His initials and a number were at the bottom to mark them for when they went to the laundry and to keep inventory. Yet another small gesture of Elizabeth’s ever-present care for others.
He had been fortunate enough to find himself a wife as capable and caring as Elizabeth. Would they have married if Georgiana had not eloped from Ramsgate? Would they have met when Bingley leased a house near to her home? Would they have met in town while she visited the Gardiners?
He supposed at the time he would never have pursued her. Attracted and nervous as he was around her, eager for her approval, he was still too proud back then to fall for a woman beneath him in fortune and consequence.
The words burst from him, unable to be kept back. “I am glad you were impulsive and had us run to the mail coach.”
She stared in confusion for a heartbeat until she realised what hemeant. She laughed as she stood, blushing a little at the memory of what she had done. “It worked out well for us, thankfully. But we can both be wilful. Two wilful people might have pulled against one another, or perhaps crashed into one another.”
“I think we are bothdeterminedpeople,” he corrected before giving her a kiss. “Loyal. Confident. And we are both honest and caring. And we had the sense, and the attraction to one another, to try to have a harmonious union.”
“You must admit you were a little impulsive too,” she teased. “In agreeing to rescue Lydia, in letting me drag you to Scotland through the night.”
“No, I was never that young and eager and impulsive,” he said drily.
“Oh no?” she said, putting her hands around his shoulders. “Then I am fortunate you never resented me for leading you astray.” Her grip on him tightened. “I mean it, Fitzwilliam. You never blamed me for getting us into a situation where the only way to keep our respectability was to marry a near-stranger.”
“It was both of our faults, and our actions were done not in service to ourselves but for the sake of people we loved.”
