“I imagine that those who partake are very discreet—especially around ladies, and most especially around maidens. I could even guess that many would never visit a brothel near their home but may very well if they travel to London, especially if the travels are for business and are made alone.”
“Oh, dear,” Elizabeth said. She stood and covered her reddened cheeks with her hands, not wishing to picture such a thing with, say, Sir William or the senior Mr Goulding.
Mr Darcy rose, too, and he took her hands away from her face and held them gently with his own. “Apparently, having a mistress, visiting courtesans, partaking of the favours of widows, or even having relations with other men’s wives—from what I hear, such behaviours are both common and to a surprising extent accepted, but I get that from generalstatements about men’s exploits and bragging. I am the last person to know specific men’s habits or even attitudes. For example, Bingley could frequent Discreet Houses whenever he is in Town, and if he did, he would never tell me. I am the only man I know who is regularly referred to as the prig, the monk, as the Cautious Curate or Saint Darcy. This makes me think that I am unusual, but I do notknow.”
“Mr Bingley?” Elizabeth shuddered at the thought of him regularly visiting brothels. That image was worse, even, than that of the older neighbouring gentlemen.
“I do not know,” he said. “He could be as inexperienced as me. Honestly, I do not wish to know.”
Elizabeth thought hard; she had to bow her head in order to focus on something other than Mr Darcy’s person. “I should have suspected this,” she finally said. “My mother did warn us that men might try to ruin us. She was not specific about what that meant, but she did tell all of us with some frequency all the things we must do to protect our virtue. So I should have known that men were more knowledgeable and more motivated to engage with these things…. I believe I deliberately kept myself from thinking about it.”
“Do you have any questions? Do you—regret sayingyes?”
His voice sounded rough. Raw, really. She looked up at his carefully composed face, into his darker-than-dark eyes. “No! No, I do not regret a moment of our connexion, and I certainly still wish to marry you. I regret my lack of knowledge and understanding.”
“Thank you,” is all Mr Darcy said in response. But his actions showed how truly glad and grateful he was.
After many minutes of Mr Darcy’s tender embraces and devastating kisses, Elizabeth finally said, “This feels so nice. How did you ever manage to wait so long to do it again?”
Mr Darcy startled, then chuckled, then let go of Elizabeth as he gasped and shook with laughter. “Elizabeth, you cannot imagine that kissing that courtesan was anything at all like the kisses we have shared, can you? It is an entirely different thing to learn the…themechanicsof something rather than to show the one you love just how you feel about them.”
“Oh! Good.” She laughed, too. “I imagine you are going to be shaking your head a great deal about the nonsensical things I say.” Elizabeth did not really mind being laughed at, not in the way her intended laughed—as if she was the dearest thing in the world.
However, he immediately sobered and said, “I hope you know that I so deeply admire the depth and breadth of your knowledge. That you do not know about this one aspect of life—of desire, of kissing, of activities of the marriage bed—obviously, that gap in your knowledge is something I am delighted with, and I gladly offer myself as your instructor.”
She stood on her tiptoes, just as she had the day that Fitzwilliam proposed, and she gave him another of her chaste pecks. Then she wrinkled her nose and said, “Mr Darcy, I am afraid I need another lesson.”
“I will, if you willpleasecall me Fitzwilliam. Or just Darcy.”
“Sir, do you think I can be so informal while speaking to my esteemed instructor?”
He laughed. “Good lord, Elizabeth, what you do to me.” He snatched her up into his arms and delivered his fiercest kisses yet.
When they recovered, the two decided they ought to return to Longbourn and face whatever scolding might be levelled at them. “I am not sure I am too worried,” Fitzwilliam said, “because the worst that could happen is that your father could insist I marry you earlier than his original plan.”
Elizabeth contemplated waiting two months to wed in the New Year, as her father had dictated. “Fitzwilliam, seriously, we do need to push at Papa so he will consent to an earlier date, do you not agree?”
“I would love that, but I can be patient,” he said. “Indeed, I believe I deserve some praise for already being so very patient for so very long.”
She patted his arm and replied, “Yes, dearest Fitzwilliam. You are very good, and very patient.”
That night,happily, Elizabeth did not toss and turn about her intended’s proficiency in kissing. However, she did wake up in the middle of a very pleasant dream with another question:What did he mean that he had been patient for “so very long”?
It had been only a few days more than a fortnight since they became reacquainted at the Meryton Assembly.
That could not be consideredso very long, unless one was speaking of something such as one’s last meal!
So…did that mean that Fitzwilliam had wished to court and marry her before they saw each other again, at the Meryton assembly?
Thatwas a disquieting thought!
Bingley sighedas he checked the sums again. Darcy had alerted him that there was a discrepancy in the books—likely an honest mistake made by the steward, his friend had assured him. “But,” Darcy had said, “whenever something like this crops up, you should check the figures again, discover the mistake, and eithersimply have your steward correct the mistake or, if needed, change your systems so that this kind of mistake does not occur again. If you uncover deception by someone in your employ, naturally, you must replace that person with someone you can trust.”
Feeling doubtful that he could do any of that, Bingley wondered if he simply was not capable of being a landowner. Either his self-doubt or exhaustion was causing the numbers to swim around rather than stay in their tidy columns. He stood up, took a few paces, and rang for coffee.
Darcy looked up from the newspaper he was reading. “Did you find the error?” he asked.
“No, but I fear the error might be that I am attempting to do something—tobesomething—far out of my province.”
