“Do you know whether she left for Kent or London?”
“Rosings Park. As I mentioned, Miss de Bourgh became frightfully ill, and with the day being so fine, they chose to return home.”
Having said all she wanted to say about the baffling ladies of Rosings Park, she changed the subject.
“I hope you are long for the neighbourhood because my uncle Gardiner and his family will join us for the festive season. They are due to arrive on Christmas Eve and will remain as long as Twelfth Night.”
The Gardiners were relations for whom she need not blush. Even though they were in trade, they were fashionable people and good company, unlike the rather vulgar Mr and Mrs Phillips.
Mr Darcy looked aggrieved. “I am excessively sorry that I cannot oblige you. I only have four short days before I must leave for an unfortunate prior engagement. I promised to celebrate Christmas with my sister long before you and I reached an understanding. I would have brought her to Netherfield if not for the presence of a certain rake. I am therefore obliged to spend the festive season with the Matlocks, who would not hear of my sister and me remaining in London alone. Because of the long journey and the short winter days, we must leave for Derbyshire no later than the nineteenth. My aunt is renowned for her Twelfth Night ball, and it would be terribly rude of me to leave before the event…”
Elizabeth’s heart plunged into her stomach. “Of course, you cannot miss it,” she agreed, even though it meant she would not see Mr Darcy for weeks. It would not do to compel him to snub his illustrious relations on her behalf. It was to be hoped that he had some family members who would not despise her, and demanding he break his promise would not induce them to approbation.
Mr Darcy grabbed her hand and pulled her behind the hedge for an ardent embrace. By the fervency of his kisses, Elizabeth discerned that he resented the separation as much as she did.
Four days later, Elizabeth bid Mr Darcy farewell and Godspeed knowing full well that all the speed in the world would not return him to her in less than a month…
Her aunt and uncle Gardiner could hardly replace Mr Darcy, but they were pleasant company, and the children occupied her to such an extent that, for brief moments, she forgot to miss him.
#
Due to Mr Darcy’s prolonged absence, the wedding date could not be set before the end of January. Mrs Bennet refused both Elizabeth’s and Jane’s pleas to marry during the same month the vile Mr Collins would marry the interloper, Miss Lucas. She had yet to forgive Mary for rejecting the clergyman, and the thought of Charlotte Lucas usurping her place as Longbourn’s mistress was a thorn in her side. Mrs Bennet’s loud lamentations had created a rift between her and her long-time friend Lady Lucas that would be difficult to mend. As a result, the rivalry between them hung like a cloud over Meryton’s small society and divided the four-and-twenty families into opposing factions.
Mr Darcy returned at the end of January and was hauled from one engagement to another by her tenacious mother. Elizabeth did what she could to shield him from the loquacious Sir William and all the supporters of the Lucas family.
Mrs Bennet still did not speak to Mary. Elizabeth was not entirely certain such a punishment was so terrible, as her mother talked to her without drawing breath. The date for their double wedding with her sister and Mr Bingley was finally set for the seventh of February, but due to a bout of ague sweeping through Meryton, that date was postponed. Then the queen announced she would be hosting a presentation on the twentieth of February. This had become an increasingly rare occurrence as the king’s madness proceeded into a permanent affliction. Miss Darcy might never have another chance for a proper coming out, and Mr Darcy begged for another delay. It was then decided the ceremony would be held on the seventeenth of March. By then Elizabeth was desperate to leave her excitable mother and interfering sisters. She had managed to spend hardly a moment alone with Mr Darcy, whose patience proved akin to that of a saint. Elizabeth was not a saint; she was a woman of flesh and blood who yearned for the right to call Mr Darcy her husband.
Chapter 6 Love is Smoke made with the Fumes of Sighs
Margate, March 18th
Elizabeth was standing in the middle of the chamber in their rented cottage at Margate.
One might think it strange to take a bridal trip to the seaside when the early spring weather was so difficult to predict, but that was exactly why her husband had chosen the location; he was not of a mind to be disturbed by random acquaintances, and neither was she. The long trip had postponed their wedding night one day because Darcy refused to consummate their marriage in a busy roadside hostelry. Which was why she was still a maiden on her second day of marriage.
Her husband stepped closer and ran his fingers through the strands of hair surrounding her face.
“All you need to do is surrender to the sensations you experience, and I promise to protect your most precious gift with everything that I am.”
He kissed the contours of her face before his lips glided down her neck. “I want you to shiver when I touch you,” he whispered seductively in her ear in that voice that heightened all her senses, and she quivered in reply. His fingers grazed her breast, and an echo of sensation sounded within her. “Together we shall build the Darcy family in faith and love.” Darcy left her neck and rose to his full height whilst staring deeply into her eyes. The darkened pools were deep enough to drown an inexperienced country maiden. She was saved by his embrace, enveloping her securely in his arms, with her cheek pressed against his chest and his chin resting atop her head.
“Prepare for a deluge of admiration,” he whispered whilst his heart pounded wildly against her ear. “I am completely devoted to you and your happiness.”
His hands roamed her body, leaving a trail of gooseskin.
“May I kiss you?”
“Yes,” she breathed, with aplease doon the tip of her tongue. Her eyes dipped to his lips that curved upwards at her reply, and she watched them move closer, inch by inch, until the faint warmth of his breath brushed her mouth. Darcy’s eyes closed as he drew a tremulous breath, still hovering half an inch away.
When their lips finally touched, the aching pleasure of it travelled to her stomach and caught there. She mimicked his movements; with a groan he tightened the embrace.
Threading her fingers through the short hair at his nape provoked a shiver to run through his body. A surge of pleasure exhilarated her. To affect him as he affected her was like a drug. When their tongues touched, sparks flew, and a wave of need descended like a crashing wave. He tasted warm—of mint with a hint of coffee. On his neck, beneath her fingers, his rapid pulse beat steadily. Her body tingled, and her cheeks were on fire as she pulled back an inch.
His eyes were dark and heavy-lidded pools of barely leashed passion.
“Elizabeth…” Darcy’s voice was rough as if unused, though they had only kissed but a minute. Then he pressed soft, barely there, kisses down her neck.
#
