Darcy took the candle from the maid’s hand to guide Elizabeth through the vast house that would be hers in a short time. She stayed in Lady Anne Darcy’s apartment—but he did not occupy the master’s suite.
Instead, he had chosen to keep his childhood apartment near Georgiana’s, unable to bring himself to claim his father’s chambers. Despite the five years since George Darcy’s death, his presence still loomed large, a haunting reminder of loss that his son could not shake. This lingering memory left him hesitant to step into the space that had once belonged to his father.
However, that situation would change soon—after his wedding—when the master and the mistress of the house had to have adjacent bedrooms.
For now, Elizabeth was slowly becoming accustomed to the mistress’s chambers—which would be hers. During his childhood, when they were in town, Darcy used to spend mostof his mornings in his mother’s warm, welcoming parlour. He remembered with perfect clarity the beautiful image of his mother. Gentle and caring, she was utterly different from her sister, Lady Catherine. Lady Anne Darcy would have loved Elizabeth and approved of his choice.
He left Elizabeth in front of her apartment, briefly kissing her hand and locking eyes with her. He fully intended to return after the maid had assisted her in preparing for the night. His desire to be with her was palpable, but the weight of their impending discussion also hung heavy in the air.
Living at Netherfield for the last weeks, deeply in love and interested only in Elizabeth and their future life, he was unaware of the extent of the malicious gossip Lady Catherine and others had invented and perpetuated about Elizabeth. For a time, he thought it was a simple problem and would be solved by her good nature, intelligence, and kindness; unfortunately, he found a different situation in London. It was serious, and he needed to discuss it with her immediately.
Darcy intended to tell her the truth but also to reassure his future wife that their life would be the image of connubial felicity, certain she would commit with grace and intelligence to any new duty that eventually might confront her. But the people around them might shatter their felicity. If London society decided to exclude his wife, Darcy realised he might not have the power or influence to change that attitude. They could live their whole life at Pemberley, although he preferred to do so as a personal decision and not imposed by a group of people influenced by Lady Catherine, Lord Matlock, or Bingley’s sisters. Though the latter had no influence among the ton, they could destroy Elizabeth’s reputation amongst other wealthy people who continually dreamt of attaining a place among the peerage.
After half an hour, which seemed an eternity, Darcy, in his robe, dismissed his valet and knocked at her door. Justhearing her voice aroused a storm of feelings within him, unlike anything he had known before Elizabeth.
He found her seated at his mother’s Sheraton mahogany secrétaire, writing a letter. Darcy stretched out on the chaise in front of the bureau as he had many times as a child, playing while his mother was busy at the same writing desk.
Elizabeth finished her letter and looked up, meeting his eyes. He was smiling.
“You were quite displeased only minutes ago—and distressed,” she said.
“You calm me. It is one of the effects thatyouhave on me, yet I am still apprehensive,” he confessed, his voice betraying his inner turmoil.
“Apprehensive about what, my dear?” she asked.
“Elizabeth, I know it is unfair to you, but we have to face the truth. Before our arrival here, Lady Catherine did all the damage she could towards you. I am concerned she influences others like Lord Matlock.”
“You think it could be worse than it was tonight?” Elizabeth asked, taking his worry upon herself.
He rose to his feet, approached the writing desk, and took her hands. “Come, sit by me,” he said tenderly, gesturing towards the chaise.
But Elizabeth could not move, only abandoning her hands into his. She wanted to be near him, although she feared the closeness, remembering those moments they spent alone in Hertfordshire after they became engaged. More often than she wished to admit, they indulged in liberties a lady should not accept, but she allowed and even encouraged them. One day in particular, when they happened to be alone in the carriage on a long ride in the country, his caresses put her cheeks and her entire being on fire. She blushed, only remembering thosetouches, so daring that she had never imagined they existed before being with him.
“I cannot!” She smiled shyly, blushing.
“Come, Elizabeth, come sit beside me. That is all I shall ask of you.”
“Promise?”
Darcy gently laughed, fixing his gaze deeply on hers. “And what do I have to promise, my beloved?”
His tone was insinuating yet mild, a man she had not known before. The candles cast unexpected shadows on his face, making her remember all the ways she had ever seen him, from the proud Darcy who barely noticed her to the man in the carriage who wanted to reveal all her secrets.
Elizabeth coloured again, not only from fear, shame, or shyness. Deep inside, she felt a strange, new stirring. It had happened a few times in the past when they were alone. Now, he was at a distance, only looking at her, but again, her body ached in a delicious wave. She recalled wondering with Jane how Lydia could accept Mr Wickham before marriage. Now, she finally understood that there were no ’before-the-wedding’ and ‘after-the-wedding’ feelings and dispositions but a unique sentiment called love…desire…the same love and passion before and after the wedding day. The ceremonies surrounding it were only the demands of society. They did not cause a wife to feel any different from the girl she was.
“I am scared,” she said. “Not of you!” she added in haste. “I am afraid that we have broken some rules of propriety. It is so important for me to go to the church pure, and I do not feel chaste anymore,” she confessed reluctantly.
Bowing deeply, he placed lingering kisses on her hands in a gesture of tenderness and respect.
“We have done nothing wrong, my love. You are the purest woman I know,” he reassured her, his voice filled with love and respect.
“We have been alone many times, and I have allowed you…”
She did not continue since she was unsure what happened in that carriage. It was intimate and enjoyable at the same time but also frightening. Everything happened for her for the first time: every kiss, embrace, and caress. She let him into territories of her body no man had seen before, but for him, it seemed normal—as natural as if he had done it many times before.
Though she genuinely wanted explanations for a question she did not dare ask, Darcy had other problems in mind. He helped her stand up and sit on the chaise while he sat in the other corner, far from her.
“Elizabeth, my love, let us get married now, here in town,” he said, wanting her to move closer; instead, Elizabeth rose in a hasty movement of denial and ire.
