“So, madam? It is not his room, it is yours. You told me that green is your favourite colour.”
“Yes, it is.” Elizabeth idly stroked the comforting knots of her blanket. “Very well. Perhaps you might also find some sea-green vases, Mrs. Reynolds, and a blue rug to tie it all together?”
Redecorating the billiards room had been fun; decorating her own room was a delight. Elizabeth had never had the opportunity to make a space her own, and her room at Longbourn had been personalised only by the means of a few inexpensive paintings. Now, she had the chance to create something uniquely her own.
There was only one thing which she felt unable to change. There had been a painting in her old room of a woodland at dawn. She was very fond of losing herself in the wistful pink sky, dreaming of walking through such a beautiful glen. Her plan to move it to pride of place in her new room was halted when she discoveredLady Anne’s portrait already mounted there. The woman’s dark eyes, so much like her son’s, stared directly at the bed. They did not encourage restful sleep.
It was a rather intimate portrait, unsuitable for being placed in the gallery where others could see it. Perhaps she should leave it, Lizzie thought dubiously, as a tribute to Lady Anne. But she could not bear beingwatched!In the end, she turned to Darcy for his guidance.
“What about the small library?” He suggested, “Only the family go there, and it was mother’s favourite room.”
“You do not mind me moving it?” she asked nervously.
“Not at all! I adored my mother, but I would not like to sleep with her staring at me. Do whatever you like, angel.”
The affectionate nickname always made Elizabeth’s skin tingle. Mumbling something idiotic, she curtseyed and hurried away to find Mrs. Reynolds.
That night she dreamed of Darcy standing over her bed, his black eyes unreadable in the firelight. He was painted in rich oils and surrounded by dawn-lit trees. He did not move, of course. Paintingscouldnot move. Yet she felt his hands on every inch of her body.
It was impossible to Elizabeth to look Darcy in the eye that morning. Instead, she stared at the steam rising from her cup of tea. She could not look to the left, where her husband sat. Certainly, she could not look to the right, at the sleep-creased bed and the dark red stain on the wall. Darcy had refused to have it painted over, telling his exasperated wife that it kept him honest. Elizabeth could not look at it without remembering their night together.
Their eyes had to meet eventually. Still stricken by her dream, Elizabeth found that she could not look away. Her cheeks burned. She was amazed to see an answering blush on Darcy’s face.
“Did you dream about me too?” she blurted out and then raised her fingers to her lips in horror. She had tried to speak teasingly! How dare her voice sound so breathy?
Darcy looked directly at her and spoke bluntly. “I dream about you every night, Elizabeth.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth tried to look serene but could not prevent a smile and a shy dimple, “That’s… that’s nice.”
The man sipped his coffee and carefully put the cup down on the table. “Shall we talk about it?”
Lizzie went even redder. “I could never…! How can you eventalkabout such things?”
“They are facts, madam, not secrets. There is nothing shameful in acknowledging them.” he said drily, “Would you prefer me to hide behind metaphor? I meant that if we have both been stricken by the same symptom, perhaps together we can seek a remedy.”
“What do you suggest?” Elizabeth tried to sound as cool and brazen as he, but she could not stop herself from glancing at the bed. Darcy held up his hand to draw her focus back to him, then shook his head.
“May I break a promise I made to you, angel?”
Lizzie stared at him, baffled. Darcy leaned forwards, not to take her hands as he often had before, but to lower his voice.
“Elizabeth, on our wedding day I promised that I would not seduce you. I ask you to release me from that vow.”
“Haven’t we already…?” she mumbled, dazed. Darcy grimaced.
“That was not seduction, dearest. Far from it. I do not want that.”
“I do.” Elizabeth admitted in a low whisper.
Darcy laughed, “I lectured you on keeping secrets, and you are far more honest than I. Yes, then, I confess that I do, too. I dream about you in a rathercompromisingposition. Several compromising positions, in fact. I fully intend to share those dreams with you, my love, but not yet. First, you must learn that they arenotseduction.”
“I do not understand, sir. Since we both want…” Elizabeth’s mouth went dry, and if her cheeks went any hotter, she thought she would burst into flames. How could one man sayyesandnoin the same words?
“Elizabeth, listen to me. I love every part of you. Yes, I love your body, but no less than your spirit, your courage… even the rather irritating way you tease me. I do not think I have ever shown you how much I love you, I have only said it. I intend to change that. Free me from my promise, and I shall treat you the way an angel deserves.”
“Do you mean… flowers? Gifts? Hymns and cherubs?”
“I am sure that some of them will be among my endeavours, yes.”
