The storm between them had passed, but some flashes of lightning persisted, and both of them resented their disagreement in different ways.
“Come, Elizabeth,” he said again. “Ask your question and let me go to bed. I shall have a difficult day tomorrow.”
But Elizabeth did not know how to ask. She was silent, incapable of translating her inner turmoil into actual words. After all, he had admitted that, in the past, he had known other women.
He understood her reluctance. “How do I know that I shall love you and only you forever? That is the question, is it not, Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth nodded, her cheeks on fire. She wanted to know more than anything else, but at the same time, she wasangry with herself; she could not stand feelings that seemed like jealousy.
“I do not know for sure what the future will bring. Now we are betrothed, yet we shall be lovers in a very short time…”
Elizabeth coloured again, but again, it was not from shame; instead, she sensed those strange transformations inside her body that announced a new world of feelings she was unaware of until days ago.
Darcy laughed despite the tension between them. “Why do you blush now, my love?” he gently asked her but with a drop of humour as he felt her tremble. “You asked me to tell the truth. I cannot ask less from you.”
“I blushed because I can now imagine how happy we shall be after…”
“After…?”
Elizabeth was not to be trapped into a conversation she did not want to have…yet. so she spoke in a bristly tone. “Fitzwilliam Darcy! Do not use such an insinuating tone. I still cannot talk about certain subjects the way you do. And besides, it is your turn to answer, not mine.”
Darcy watched her with such frankness in his eyes that Elizabeth smiled; she did not know what bothered her. One moment, she thought she was not jealous of the women before her, no matter what had happened. But the next instant, she found it difficult to accept that her husband had known other women. It was not only jealousy; it was also fear. What would happen if, in the future, she were no longer enough for him?
“Elizabeth, a gentleman, has certain experiences in his life before marriage. None of those was even close to love as I understand it now.”
“And how would you describe those experiences?” she said, slightly irritated.
“Intimate and at times pleasant…” he said, relieved to resolve that problem. But it was not as simple as he imagined it to be.
“I am jealous and frightened,” Elizabeth admitted.
“Let us take them one by one, dearest. Why are you jealous?”
“Why were you intimate with other women before me?” she finally asked, not daring to look into his eyes.
“Because a man has certain needs a woman does not have,” Darcy said, smiling at her worried face. Her lovely forehead was slightly creased, a new expression on her face. Despite the distress of their conversation, he could not but imagine Elizabeth with the same frown and raised eyebrow with their children when she discovered unacceptable behaviour.
Elizabeth tried to understand his words. They were skilfully chosen—not a definite statement, but they were close to a revelation.
“I am not sure I understand what you are saying. Do you mean that there have been other women because you needed them? Were you engaged before?”
Darcy had an urge to laugh, but he realised he could not mock her because her question arose from the most profound innocence. In the society in which he lived, such purity was no longer a shared legacy amongst all young ladies. In London, he could count those with such values on his fingers. But he was not sure how to explain that to his bride-to-be. Her only discussions with her friends and sisters were likely about kissing. There was a Lydia in many families, but her type was the exception, not the rule. He was sure Lydia did not discuss such matters with her sisters, at least not with Miss Bennet and Elizabeth, as they would not allow it.
“Why do you hesitate?” Elizabeth asked. She was again worried, aware of each shade his face revealed.
“My dear,” he said, “I am not sure you understand these matters between men and women.”
“I want to understand…allbetween a wife and a husband,” she said stiffly.
“Yes, I agree, but a wife is…a woman and a husband is…a man, so…”
“Are you pleading for the consummation of our marriage before our wedding?” she asked.
“No—absolutely not!” he responded in a determined voice. “What happened in the carriage was marvellous, but you are right. We both were under a spell, or perhaps just happy to be together. For me, it was important to discover you, but we shall wait for the wedding night for more.”
Elizabeth looked at him and tried not to smile; she was certain Fitzwilliam could read her face and knew her inner thoughts, which at that moment were contradictory. From one point of view, she was glad he made that decision, but she also had regrets that further discovery was forbidden for at least two more weeks.
He gazed at her and smiled—that bizarre, insinuating smile that caused her heart to race. He wanted to say something, but Elizabeth covered his mouth with her delicate fingers.
