Page 109 of The Mistress of All & Torn

In July, Elizabeth visited Old Oak School again. At her arrival, a burst of joy, voices and cries shook the property, while the girls ran to her. The changes had just started, there was much more work needed. But the differences, especially in the girls’ appearance, were astounding. Less than a year was needed for the school to be brought to life and for the girls to feel free to laugh.

In August, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy married in the modest church at Longbourn, although they could have chosen any place in England. In front of their families and friends, they were overwhelmed by emotions and left for London soon after the wedding breakfast.

The rest of the guests remained at Netherfield, with the plan of all reuniting at Pemberley for Christmas, as had been promised.

After a year as long as a lifetime, after many months of turmoil and suffering, and more months of concealed feelings and a secret engagement, Mr. and Mrs. Darcy were finally alone in the carriage that took them to London, where they were to stay a week before moving to Pemberley. On their way, they planned to visit the boys' school in Sheffield too.

They were holding hands, while Elizabeth looked outside.

“I barely had time to say goodbye to Cece and Georgiana,” she laughed. “We almost ran from our own wedding.”

He kissed her fingers, one by one. “We stayed too long, I would say. I have waited to be alone with you for too long to even count.”

She laughed, shivering from his tantalising lips. “And would another hour have made any difference?”

He looked at her, his eyebrows arched in mock displeasure. “I cannot believe you asked me that question, madam.”

Before she had time to reply, his mouth captured her lips, and she leaned against him, abandoning herself in his arms, still laughing.

“Mrs. Darcy?” he murmured sometime later.

“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” she replied breathlessly, unwilling to separate from him.

“I have long lost my heart and my mind to you, I am struggling to not lose my self-control, at least until we arrive home.”

“And how may I assist you in this endeavour, sir?” she teased him, still closely embraced. “Should I move to the other bench?”

“Never! But you may relate to me what your mother was telling Lady Lucas with such great enthusiasm.”

“They debated where we should live out of the many houses we own.”

“But I heard something about marrying Mr. Collins,” he insisted. “Who?”

“Oh, you heard that? Well, this is a story that will surely keep your interest and preserve your self-control until London, sir.”

He was puzzled and she laughed, just before she was silenced again with another kiss.

∞∞∞

A year ago, Lady Barrington, formerly Elizabeth Bennet, had been brought to Mr. Darcy’s house, freed from terror, her body wounded and her soul caged by fear. He, the last man in the world whom she would have thought, had saved her and taught her the meaning of goodness, honour, love and devotion in a man. He had helped her to laugh again, and to believe in happiness again. He was her happiness, just as she was his. She had married him with no restraint, no hesitation.

By the window, she waited for him. On the soft carpet, his steps were barely audible, but she felt them, she felt him. With every step, her heart raced more and her skin shivered even before he touched her.

His arms encircled her and he held her tight for a while. Then he gently caressed her face and his lips brushed over hers.

With his eyes locked with hers, he carried her to the bed. She leaned against the pillows, smiling and quivering under his adoring gaze. Only two candles were burning, each in a distant corner of the room.

“I look forward to becoming Mrs. Darcy. Completely. With all my being,” she whispered, while she pulled him to her. “I hated to be called Lady Barrington, so much…Now you may call me Mrs. Darcy all day long,” she teased him.

“I hated calling you Lady Barrington,” he admitted. “Now I will call you beloved, or my love or my Elizabeth. And Mrs. Darcy only sometimes.”

He spread small kisses over her face, again and again. His lips gently brushed where the scars had been, then lowered to her neck, along her jaw, and tantalised her ears, while she moaned softly.

With infinite care, he slowly removed her gown and covered her shivering, silky skin with countless caresses. She trusted him and opened her body to him as she had opened her mind and her heart. His hands and his lips touched, tasted and conquered every inch of her body. She felt his ardent love and his passion on her body and inside it and the more he offered her, the more she wished for.

The pleasure made her forget herself, but not for a moment did she forget him. She was intoxicated by his skin upon hers, by his scent, by his whispers of love.

She cried his name as she finally felt him inside her, strong, warm, soft, powerful, tender, passionate. Her husband.