“That’s not fair,” I said, chuckling at her. “But you are quite pretty when you are in my bed in the morning after sleeping in my arms, and it is terribly difficult to be cross with you.”
“Youarecross with me.”
“No,youare cross withme,” I said. “I suppose it’s about your brother—”
“Well, we never finished discussing your sister marrying Mr. Bingley.”
“Oh, that will never happen,” I said. “Because I should not saddle my sister to a marriage like that one. I want her to find a man who adores her the way I adore you. I want her to experience that. She deserves that. She deserves much better than to be a convenience, some shield so that Mr. Bingley’s shameful secret does not come out. I did not wish it for you, and I would not wish it for anyone. In fact, I do not approve of it for Caroline.”
Elizabeth let out a long, slow, thoughtful breath. “Oh,” she said.
“Oh?” I said. “Has the great and mighty Mrs. Darcy deigned to say that her husband might have a good point about something?”
She poked me under my ribs. “Oh, please, if you will, call me Elizabeth in bed?”
“Yes,” I said. “I should. I should quite call you Elizabeth. I apologize.”
“Even Lizzy,” she said.
“Will,” I said.
She beamed at me, and she was as sunny as ever.
We may have been nearly late for breakfast that morning as well. What could I say? I had a difficult time keeping my hands off of her.
“Apologies for our lateness, my lady,” Elizabeth said as she slid into a chair at breakfast.
“No, no trouble,” said Lady Susannah. “I know you must have a good excuse for it.”
I noticed a footman smirk at this, and I tried to hold his gaze, but he left the room shortly afterward. I did not see him again until sometime later, when my wife and I were sitting down in the morning room to write some letters.
I muttered something about my pen needing mending, and she said, “Oh, certainly, let me have a look at it if you please.”
“I can mend my own pen,” I told her.
“Yes, but isn’t it nicer if someone mends it for you?” she said.
“Clearly,” said the footman, who was in the corner of the room.
I looked up at him, but he was just smirking again.
Elizabeth turned to look at him.
“What was that?” I said.
“Nothing, sir,” he said, all innocence.
I narrowed my eyes at him.
“Well,” said Elizabeth, “if you do not mind, there is an inkwell over there and if you could bring it to me, I would be much obliged.”
He brought the inkwell to her, and he said something, but I couldn’t hear it.
Elizabeth turned bright red and made a choking noise. She snatched the inkwell from him and shook herself.
The footman, still smirking, left the room.
I shot to my feet. I came over to her. “What did he say to you?”
