“Aaahh, Lizzy, it is you who are brilliant beyond compare!” Fitzwilliam joined her on the front-facing seat again and wriggled about a bit so that she was able to lean on him, her head cradled on his shoulder. He grinned down at her, barely moved his lips so he could kiss her nose, and then said, “Let us attempt to follow that brilliant advice.”
“You called me Lizzy!” Elizabeth said.
“I call you Elizabeth most of the time, as you know. But when I cannot go on as I have done, when my resistance is worn away and I have no way of sorting up and down, right and left—then I call you Lizzy.”
“Well, sir, you had best sleep if you cannot tell up from down!”
“But do you not see, Lizzy? You fill my every sense, and I am left with only nonsense thoughts. Just now I was thinking that my every atom is drawn to you as if you were a lodestone and I was flakes of iron.”
Elizabeth lifted her head off Fitzwilliam’s shoulder, saying, “And you expect me to sleep with all of that hanging in the air?”
“Shh, Lizzy. Let us both follow the advice of the lovely and wise Elizabeth. Let us at least try to sleep.”
Elizabeth was very sure, as close to him as she was, that she would not sleep. She was, however, wrong.
Fifteen
Elizabeth woke up feeling warm, cared for, and confused. She realised swiftly that she was in the carriage, being held by her husband. She also saw that he was awake.
“Are we almost there?” she asked, but then she felt the carriage make a wide, smooth turn and then stop.
“No,” Fitzwilliam teased. “Not almost.”
She broke free of his arms and straightened and smoothed her clothing, groped at her hair and decided it needed no repair, and found her gloves and bonnet.
Naturally, Fitzwilliam looked impeccable still. He pulled on his gloves, placed his hat on his head, and shrugged on his greatcoat.
“You will need another layer,” he said. “Do you wish to put your cloak on now, or perhaps after I get out and you have more room to manoeuvre?”
“The latter, thank you,” she replied as she took the folded cloak.
Fitzwilliam opened the curtains to show that they were ready for the door to be opened and the step to be set.
Only moments later, Elizabeth found herself in the nicest inn she had ever entered. She did not have many travel experiences,but when travelling to Ramsgate and Brighton with the Gardiners, she had stayed at two roadside inns. They had not been this large nor this well attended.
On Fitzwilliam’s arm, the innkeeper and his wife hurried to help them, showed them to their large, comfortable rooms, and assured them that their dinner was ready whenever they were. “Or, perhaps, you would like a bath, Mrs Darcy?”
Elizabeth was inclined to turn her head to see who could be addressed by such a name, but she controlled the impulse, telling herself not to be foolish.
She glanced at Fitzwilliam and shrugged her eyebrows. He shrugged back. It was her choice, obviously—but the rich smells from the kitchen had reached them, and her stomach growled.
Mortified, she ordered dinner first.
“We will wish for a bath in about two hours. Do you think that can be accommodated?” Fitzwilliam asked.
“Yes, sir. Whenever you like.” The innkeeper’s wife continued with assurances that their dinner would be brought up and that they should ring for anything else, including the bath water, and she finished with congratulations and a wink.
As soon as she left, Elizabeth rounded on Fitzwilliam. “She knows it is our wedding night, does she not?”
“Of course,” he said. “I wished for the room with the thickest walls.”
Elizabeth felt herself blushing. She felt betrayed, almost—the innkeeper and his wife, at least, and possibly the inn’s servants, would know what they were going to do when they were in privacy.
She hurried to refresh herself and was back in the sitting room when a maid knocked, and at the command to enter, she brought in a heavy tray. A footman arrived with another tray. Soon their meal was laid out beautifully and the servants had bowed themselves out of the room.
Fitzwilliam followed them to the door and locked it. He turned to her, and somehow reading her unspoken thoughts, he said, “Dearest,everyoneknows what we will be doing, but then again, they know the same information about every married couple, and not a few unmarried ones, who take rooms here.”
What he said was reasonable, and yet she still felt embarrassed. She supposed, however, that feeling betrayed was nonsensical, and she was happy to see that feeling dissipate.
