“I had offered you the same thing in Kent—” he began but stopped, realising it was false. When he proposed in Kent, he had demanded that she leave everything behind to follow him into his world, to forsake her own—a world he had once despised.
“In Kent, I merely wanted you to be my wife. I was certain you would accept—”
“Precisely. Whereas here, when you proposed to me, you were a man who loved a woman and wished for her to be his. Marriage was never merely a transaction for you, even when you asked me to accept that—”
“How do you know that?” he interrupted.
“Because when you looked at me, your gaze was a symphony of emotions, all born from love. Your love was never a secret—”
“No,” he admitted. “I wished to marry you, to make our wedding the final chapter of my life. A last fragment of grandeur…for as long as it was still possible. And from the depths of my heart, I wished for Georgiana not to be left alone in the world and for you to gain what you had always desired—freedom. But love came first, no matter what I said that night,” he added with a smile. “The question, my dear wife, is what did it mean to you?”
Elizabeth pondered for a long moment. She rested her head against his chest again, and in the stillness of the house and the quiet between them, she could have remained there for a lifetime.
“If I told you I loved you from the moment I stepped into your house, would you believe me?”
“Not entirely.” He laughed, though it was clear he had shaken off the sorrow that had gripped him moments before.
“And yet, it is the truth. That is the truth, Darcy.”
“When you call me Darcy, it feels as though you are scolding me.”
“Fitzwilliam is too long to use as an endearment.”
Her hand slipped beneath his coat and shirt, reaching for that place where the bullet had struck.
“I have always wanted to touch your chest,” she whispered, overcome with emotion. “I used to dream that I could close the wound, make the bullet disappear…bring you back to me. I wanted you to be my husband…even if I never dared to admit it, fearing I would only augment your suffering.”
“And I have dreamt all this time of caressing this,” he said, placing with his palm on her perfect breast with infinite care, and she sighed, closing her eyes, retreating from the world to the rhythm of his touch. As if her bosom was bound by hundreds of threads to the core of her body, which longed for him. And as his touch became stronger and more rhythmic, she cried out, trembling in his arms, sure she was ready to be his wife.
“I love you,” she said with her eyes still closed while he slowly caressed her body, a prelude to their physical union.
“Open your eyes, Elizabeth Darcy.”
She opened them, staring into his while his hands did not stop their wonderfully tortuous journey. Without hesitation, she told him the truth that had haunted her all that time, certain thatshe would never have the chance to say, “I love you, Fitzwilliam Darcy! I love you forever! I love you with everything I am, my soul, heart, and body.”
“Will you be my wife, Elizabeth?” he asked hoarsely.
“Yes!” she cried, while, for the first time in her life, her body trembled as he caressed her. “Yes, I shall be your wife, Fitzwilliam!”
“I am your wife,” she added with effort when she wrenched herself free from his embrace. His hands were ready to claim dominion over the realm she defended with the pure knowledge that only true love could conquer. Yet she wanted more than a sofa in the drawing-room.
“We shall eat our wedding dinner, my love,” she said, “And then you will take me to your bedroom—”
Yet she stopped, reflecting. “Better, to my bedroom.”
And he laughed in agreement as they left the room to prepare for their wedding night.
Chapter 33
They parted with difficulty, Elizabeth to her apartment and Darcy to the ground floor chamber that had been his bedroom for too many nights and days.
Elizabeth was smiling, thinking of donning the gown she had worn on their wedding day—when, though she had been addressed asMrs Darcy, she had not truly been his wife. It was as if she could turn back time, erasing all the suffering, pain, and frustration that had once stood between them. And deep within her soul, she knew that Darcy, though they had spoken nothing of it, would do the same.
Unexpectedly, she found Anna waiting in her personal sitting room, barring her way into the bedroom.
Elizabeth looked at her, puzzled and amused. But then her gaze fell upon her magnificent wedding gown, carefully laid out beside a large mirror, and she understood—this was where she was meant to dress.
She turned towards Anna without a word, gratitude shining in her eyes. And when fully dressed, just as she cast one last glance at herself in the mirror, Anna left and reappeared again quickly, holding a bouquet ofLady Darcyroses—identical to the one she had carried on her wedding day.
