At the time, Darcy had seen Elizabeth’s naivety as a blessing. Since she had no expectations, he did not need to offer or reject the kind of distasteful sentiments he so despised. They relaxed into a comfortable, chaste harmony which neither of them wanted to change.
How serene it was!
But…
How bright were her eyes! How graceful was the curve of her neck. How luscious was the swell of her hips. How much Darcy began to notice, with every passing day. How fiercely it began to prey on his mind!
Yet, Elizabeth was innocent. His angel, whom nobody had ever flattered or flirted with, would never get to experience the delicate flutter of fear and delight when a stranger met her eye.
Seduction was pretence. Darcy knew that for a fact. But it was also a game - a dance of pleasure and wit - and one that he suspected Elizabeth might enjoy. He had to admit to himself that the thought of provoking his wife was utterly irresistible. And he dearly, desperately wanted to make her happy.
First, of course, flowers were required. The morning after Elizabeth released him from his vow, Darcy presented her with a simple bouquet of snowdrops. She laughed, rubbing her sleepy eyes.
“I expected flowers,” she teased, “But notthese.”
“I considered going to the hothouse, but somehow it didn’t suit you.”
“There are still dew-drops on the petals.” she observed softly.
“I only gathered them half an hour ago.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, “You went out before dawn to pick me flowers?”
“I did promise to seduce you.” he quipped, then awkwardly added: “Are you pleased?”
She looked up from the flowers, eyes shining, and laughed when she saw the doubt that was clearly written on his face. Despite her playfulness, she could not conceal the deep blush that trailed down from her cheeks all the way to her throat. Irrepressible dimples made her lovely face look utterly charming. Her voice was pert, of course, but charmed:
“You are a fool, my love. How can you doubt it?”
“You do not need to humour me.”
“I have no talent for acting, sir, and do not wish to make a study of it for the sake of your pride. Do you have a vase at hand? I fear these flowers will wilt by the time we finish reassuring one another.”
Darcy had no defence against such a friendly retort and smiled as he collected a vase. Knowing that his wife’s teasing was her way of downplaying her delight, he considered his early rise to get dripped on in the woods a sound investment.
Elizabeth, in turn, was relieved to find out that her promised ‘seduction’ was reassuringly unimaginative. She had dreamed of Mr. Darcy again, but this time it had involved a convoluted plan, an embroidery hoop and a talking frog called Philip. Flowers were sensible, predictable, and utterly delightful.
She started telling Mr. Darcy of her plans for the day, as she always did in the morning. At once, he held his hand up and shook his head.
“I have already told Mrs. Reynolds not to expect you, Elizabeth. You will spend the day with me.”
“On the estate?” she hid her surprise with a quick jibe, “Am I to visit the farmers with you, sir?”
“Would you prefer that? I had rather hoped to take you into town.”
“Town? Why?”
He raised an eyebrow, playfully secretive, and only said: “There are fewer pigs there.”
Elizabeth smiled warmly. She had not left Pemberley since they had arrive. As much as she adored her new home, she wassometimes homesick for the casual freedom she and Jane had enjoyed on their walks through Meryton.
Darcy insisted that she change into a fashionable blue walking dress that she had chosen during their honeymoon. Lizzie tried to protest that such a fine garment was more suited for parading through Kensington than walking through a modest town, but Darcy silenced her with a look.
“You want me to look beautiful.” she summarised with an exaggerated sigh.
“You already do, my love. Just wear the dress. Must everything be an argument?”
Elizabeth laughed, “Oh yes! Everything. I had no idea that being seduced would be so akin to being scolded. I refuse to be intimidated, sir.”
