Page 58 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

“My aunt will come with her.”

“Then invite Anne alone.”

A slow smile crossed his face.

“You are not yet married and already you are plotting against Lady Catherine.”

“I prefer to call it family administration.”

“You will be formidable.”

“You have been warned.”

Our wedding was set for three weeks after Jane and Mr. Bingley's. My father judged it proper not to further hasten a decision that had already seen too many changes. Darcy accepted, though he regarded the calendar with visible hostility.

The days became a succession of preparations, visits, and conversations that rendered our future marriage both public and strangely intimate. We discussed the contract. Darcy wanted to guarantee me a substantial personal income, a house should I become a widow, and a sum for my mother if my father died before repaying his debt.

“You are too generous,” I said.

“I am prudent.”

“By anticipating your death before our marriage even takes place?”

“By ensuring that no one can ever make you believe your security depends on your obedience.”

That silenced me.

We also spoke of Pemberley, of Georgiana, of my family's visits, of the possibility of Kitty staying with us away from Lydia's influence. We spoke less easily of the wedding night.

It was I who broached the subject.

We were walking one afternoon through the small wood where the storm had once caught us. The pavilion stood a few steps away, dry this time beneath a clear sky.

“Fitzwilliam.”

He stopped. I used his first name only when we were alone, and each time he reacted as though I had caressed him.

“Yes?”

“I must ask you a question.”

“You look as though you are preparing for an interrogation.”

“I don't know how to phrase it elegantly.”

His expression grew attentive.

“Then don't seek elegance.”

I looked at the path.

“Have you… much experience?”

He stayed silent long enough that I regretted speaking.

“You want to know if I've had mistresses.”

The frankness of the word made me blush.