“I am ruminating upon the thought that separate bedrooms is utter nonsense,” Darcy grumbled.
“I agree, but that was what you were taught was proper. Was your parents’ marriage a happy one?”
“I used to believe so. In the eyes of society it was, but lately I have become more inclined to regard it as a business arrangement between fortune and rank. They were not affectionate…”
Elizabeth sensed that the lack of affection concerned not just the relationship between the parents but also how they behaved towards their children. Poor Darcy; he needed to be taught what a true marriage would be like. Not only for the joining of fortune, connections, and the procreation of children, but how to be a true partner—sharing all of life’s many pleasures and pains—relying on each other in every way. She would be patient and address one prejudice at a time…
“What say you to making sharing one bedroom a permanent solution?” she asked bravely.
“I would like nothing more than spending every evening as we are now, with you reclined within my arms. Mistake me not, Idoenjoy the procreation of children”—Darcy wiggled his eyebrows—“but I relish this quiet time of reflection even more.”
The coal in the hearth was glowing and radiated heat. It was becoming uncomfortable even in only her chemise for protection, though she relished Darcy’s comforting embrace. She shifted, but the warmth was unrelenting.
“I am loath to break our intimate tête-á-tête, but if I do not move, we shall have ham for dinner on the morrow.”
Darcy used the hint to grab her buttocks and huffed.
“You are scorching.”
Elizabeth did not reply. Something was niggling at her memory. She looked at Darcy. It was impossible that he was the culprit, and if her conjectures were correct, the judge was speaking the truth. Judge Darcy had added the unnecessary items to her shopping spree, but he may not be culpable for the scandals. No. She must be mistaken. Some of the rumours had arisen before… The caricature of her dress, which was Mrs Bean’s doing, but nothing else of a personal nature.
“Elizabeth, are you well?”
Darcy was regarding her with a quickly forming frown above his nose.
“Yes. I am very well.”
She rose to her feet.
“Excuse me for a moment. I just remembered something. I shall be back shortly.”
“Elizabeth?”
The tone in Darcy’s voice was one of uncertainty and vulnerability. The dear man was still anxious she would leave him again, but she had learnt her lesson. She would make no more impetuous decisions but henceforth confer with her husband until they reached a mutual agreement.
She turned and retreated to rise onto her toes and kiss his cheek.
“Will you warm the bed for me? I shall be back in no time.”
“You cannot leave our chamber dressed in that flimsy chemise!”
Elizabeth looked down at herself and the too-large shift she had inherited from Jane. It was comfortable, but one strap kept sliding off her shoulder.
She purloined Darcy’s coat off a chair and donned it over her shift. Sending her husband the sauciest grin she could muster, she dared him to deny her his raiment. His eyes turned molten, and with a racing heart she sauntered out of the room. Only after she had closed the door did she hasten her stride until she reached the room three doors down and entered without knocking.
“It was you, was it not?”
“Excuse me!”
Elizabeth fought to suppress her temper and keep her voice low. She would rather not alarm the whole house before she was absolutely certain her accusations were correct.
“It has been you all along.”
“I do not understand. Of what are you accusing me?”
“You have been feeding the quidnuncs all these atrocities about my character, my alleged licentious behaviour, and the breach in my marriage. Dear God!”
Elizabeth paced in front of the unlit hearth, pulling Darcy’s coat tighter about her person. The smell of him calmed her strained nerves, allowing her to think more clearly.
