“Why did you not wish me to shave my beard?” he asked, and to his surprise, she blushed—a rare occurrence for her. Though it seemed that in that unguarded response, there lay something more than her fear of moving his face, he dreaded that Elizabeth would not tell him the truth.
Yet she looked at him, her cheeks aflame, and with sincerity and without hesitation, she said, “Because Darcy with a beard is my present—”
“Unrelated to the past?” he interjected in a tone meant to be light-hearted, even a touch sarcastic. But, all he managed was to reveal the depth of his emotion—one she did not perceive, overwhelmed as she was by her own.
“Only as much as necessary,” she laughed at last, restoring a semblance of peace between them.
“Good,” he finally said, somewhat calmer at the thought that this beautiful and intelligent woman found a trace of joy in their marriage. And though he had asked for a merearrangement, Elizabeth was marrying him not only with her mind but, if only a little, with her heart as well.
Only then did she notice a grey velvet box on the bed beside him. He nodded gently.
“Yes, it is for you.”
“Darcy,” she spoke softly, her scolding tone more like a caress. “It is too much.”
“Nothing is too much for my wife. Open it, Elizabeth.”
She opened it almost fearfully, but her face lit up with a radiant smile at the sight of the exquisite jewellery.
“So, Miss Bennet is impressed by jewels and fashion after all,” he said, watching her fasten the stunning necklace of three strands of pearls, matching the colours of her dress.
“Miss Bennet was not like this,” she replied, gazing into the dressing table mirror. “But it seems Mrs Darcy has grown as vain as every other woman in this town.”
Yet she turned to him, unoffended by that revelation, and said, “Thank you, my dear. It is magnificent!”
“Have you finished the dress?” he asked, striving to maintain his composure lest emotion overwhelm him and take on dramatic proportions.
“Yes, and I have found the shoes as well.”
He swallowed hard, attempting to steady himself. He would have given anything to take off those pink and grey silk shoes, his hands trailing up her shapely legs. But he contented himself with the thought that Elizabeth would never again fear the future, which was enough for him. He waited for his marriage with the confidence that it was the best decision of his life. He could not imagine dying in the next four hours, and nothing else could happen meanwhile.
But the surprises of that morning were far from over.
Appearing more agitated than Darcy and Elizabeth combined, Parker entered the room with an alarmed expression,utterly unbefitting a servant in a grand house, and almost shouted, “Madam, your father has arrived, Mr Bennet. He is in the library.”
Elizabeth stared at him, bewildered. She knew nothing of her father’s arrival; such a visit had not even crossed her mind.
“You mean Mr Gardiner,” she said, but she immediately realised that Parker would never make such a mistake.
“No, madam, it is your father. He told me twice who he was. He awaits you in the library.”
Elizabeth glanced at the clock. It was barely seven o’clock. Her father must have left her uncle’s house around six…and he had likely arrived in London the day before.
Forgetting she was a grown woman, her heart tightened painfully, just as it had in childhood whenever she had committed some mischief and her father had summoned her to the library at Longbourn.
“Has he come to stop you from marrying?” Darcy asked, his words jesting, yet his tone entirely serious.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth replied. “I did not write to them—”
“You did not write to them?” Darcy exclaimed, and Elizabeth shook her head.
“I asked my aunt and Jane to write to them in detail about what had transpired…but I…I did not have the time.”
“Elizabeth, how could you not write to them?” he asked again, for one thing he had come to understand about her was how deeply she valued her family. “You did not write to them even from Kent after…”
“No,” she admitted.
“Then your father does not know about the proposal in Kent?”
