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FITZWILLIAM WAS THE first to wake for the day, and sunlight filled the cottage. The light revealed holes in the walls he had missed overnight, so no wonder it was still cold in here. The fire had died down to an almost non-existent level, and he shivered as he got out of bed.
He reached for his clothes, finding them dry enough that they would provide warmth rather than sapping body heat. He dressed quickly before turning his attention to Elizabeth.
His darling Lizzy, who would soon be his bride. He would arrange for a special license, cost be vexed, in case the night’s activities had led to the conception of the next Darcy heir. He doubted she would have any objections to a quick wedding, and he was certain Mr. Bennet would not either if he consented to give his blessing, especially if Fitzwilliam had to enlighten him to the reasons why a hasty union might be required.
He hoped to spare himself, Elizabeth, and Mr. Bennet the indignity of discussing that, but he would use it for leverage if he must. He was fearful Mr. Bennet might not easily give his consent, even in light of the situation that had compromised Lizzy’s reputation, since Mr. Bennet held a poor opinion of him and had no idea Fitzwilliam had been instrumental in finding Wickham and forcing him to marry Lydia.
She looked so peaceful lying there, with her lashes fanned against her cheeks. She was no longer as pale as he assumed she had been last night. Her wound looked crusty, and it would need to be treated and cleaned, but it was much better than he had expected now that he could view it in full light.
With a sigh of reluctance, he bent down to shake her shoulder gently. “Lizzy, you should wake now and get dressed. We either need to find our way to Netherfield or Longbourn, depending on distance, or we should expect a rescue party soon. They will not delay now that the sun has risen.”
Her eyes blinked open, and she nodded even as she yawned. She stretched in an adorable fashion that reminded him of a kitten, but not so innocently. His cock tightened again, and though he’d had her the night before, he wanted her again already.
He forced himself to exhibit self-control as he helped her from the bed and assisted her with dressing. He might have made a muck of the buttons, and he wasn’t entirely certain he had gotten all the layers on properly, but she looked only slightly worse for wear. One could not immediately look at her and see signs of passion.
Unless they focused closely on her lips, which were swollen from his kisses, or on her cheeks, which had the slightest hint of redness from the prickliness of his shadowy beard. Her eyes appeared languid, as did her limbs, and she moved with a boneless gracefulness that was new to her.
She was always graceful, but there was something different about her movements and her walk. She seemed fully a woman now, and a swell of pride filled him to know that he had brought on that state.
“Rest in front of the fire for a few minutes while I attempt to stoke it higher. Then we should decide if we will look for the search party, or if we should wait for them to find us.”
She nodded as she sat in the same chair she had used last night.
Fitzwilliam turned to another chair, breaking it up with his feet as he grunted at the impact of his shoes against the brittle boards. He had broken another chair in the middle the night, so this represented their last heat source besides the bed. He doubted there was any food in the cottage, so while it provided a respite from the elements, it was not an ideal place to weather while the search parties that were surely out looking for them made their way to this location.
Once he had the fire built again, and Lizzy had scooted closer to hold out her hands to warm them, he said, “I do not know how long we can stay here.”
She nodded, straightening her shoulders. “It is not a good place, is it? We have no food and little fuel for the fire.” She gave a wistful sigh and looked around. “It is a humble abode, long abandoned, but it I fear it shall always hold a special place in my heart, Fitzwilliam.”
“I confess to preferring Fitzwilliam.” He smiled. “I feel the same way about this little cottage, dear Lizzy.” He reached for one of her hands, rubbing it between his lightly when he noticed how cold it was even with the fire. “Yet I am loath to take you out again. If we do not find Netherfield or Longbourn today, we might be trapped again without shelter.”
She seemed resolute. “We have the daylight ahead of us, and it cannot be more than a couple of miles. We just have to find the right direction. With visibility restored, it is quite likely we shall be able to see Netherfield or Longbourn in the distance anyway. I think we must leave our sanctuary, though it pains me greatly in some ways.”
He brought her hand to his mouth so he could kiss the back of it. “You are a very wise woman, Mrs. Darcy.”
She twitched, and then she laughed. “I am not yet Mrs. Darcy.”
He shook his head. “You are Mrs. Darcy in my heart, especially after last night. We have only to wait on the formalities to make it official.”
Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “You are a true romantic, Fitzwilliam. I would not have expected it from you.”
“I do like to remain in possession of some mystique, dear lady.” He was tempted to pull her into his arms, but he knew if he kissed her, one kiss would not be enough. They would soon find themselves back on that bed, and daylight would be wasting. With a sigh of regret, he forced himself to stand, looking down at her. “We should leave when you are ready then.”
She nodded. “I am ready.”
He strode into the kitchen, finding a dented copper pot on one of the shelves. “Very well. Allow me to fetch snow to ensure the fire goes out. I would hate to burn down the place that offered us sanctuary.”
With a nod from her, he exited the house, though it was a bit of a struggle to open the door. They must have gotten two feet of snow, and it would be difficult to walk through. Once again, he second-guessed himself, but then he heard a wicker in the distance and looked up, calling, “Goliath?”
With a chuffing sound, the horse came running into sight, and Fitzwilliam had never been so pleased to see Goliath in all his life. The black stallion was still clearly a little bit frazzled, but he didn’t seem to be in the throes of panic. Fitzwilliam set down the copper pot so he could examine the horse, determining he was in reasonably good shape.
Maybe he had found shelter somewhere, or he was built better to resist the elements, but the horse seemed virtually unscathed after a night spent possibly in the snowstorm. His saddle was missing, save for one strap that remained wrapped around him, and Darcy wondered how the horse had managed to shred it. He had likely gotten caught in some sort of entanglement, like a tree or bushes, and had jerked until it broke when he was in such a frantic state.
Darcy patted the horse. “Stay, my fine fellow. We shall come to you in a moment.” He bent down and retrieved a pot full of snow and strode back into the cottage. He was suddenly far more confident about finding Longbourn or Netherfield, and he gave Lizzy a cheerful grin as he dumped the snow on the fire he had just rebuilt. “Goliath has found us. We shall make good time on him.”
Her eyes widened, and she seemed shocked. “I had feared he would not fare so well. Is he in shape for us to ride?”
“He seemed fit and fair to me, but he has lost his saddle.” As he spoke, Darcy went to the bed to strip off the thin blanket. “I think this will do for a makeshift arrangement.”
A few moments later, he exited the cottage, and Darcy put the blanket on the horse’s back. He lifted Lizzy up, this time not bothering to apologize when he cupped her buttocks and massaged them for a second longer than necessary once she was seated on the blanket, this time sitting side-saddle, sans saddle, like a proper lady.
The horse was a good sixteen hands, and without stirrups to assist him, Darcy had to bring the horse over to the porch and use it as a makeshift mounting post. Fortunately, Goliath had retained his bridle, so he was still able to help steer the horse in the right direction.
They rode for a while, until a building came into sight. There was still some fog in the air, so it took a little more riding before they could make out for certain that it was Longbourn.
“Oh, we are home.” She snuggled against him and then stiffened slightly. “Things will have to change until we are married though. We will not have any time alone together.” She sounded mournful.
“We shall make it work, my love. Do you have any objection to being wed by special license?”
She turned her head upward so she could look at him. “Do you wish to be so hasty? I fear people will suspect the worst if we marry quickly.”
He put his hand pointedly on her stomach. “Perhaps they have good reason to suspect the worst. Even now, my child could be taking root inside you. I would feel more comfortable if we are wed quickly, and you have the protection of my name that much sooner.”
She frowned for a moment, and then her hand settled over his. “Do you really think it could be true? I might be carrying your baby even now?”
Darcy chuckled. “It certainly would not be for lack of trying if you recall, Mrs. Darcy.”
She tapped his hand lightly. “Must I remind you again that I am not quite the official Mrs. Darcy?” Her voice changed, and she sounded fretful. “Your aunt will hate the idea. Lady de Bourgh called on me in London when I was staying with Aunt Gardiner to assure me that whatever rumors were circulating, you would never offer for my hand.”
“Then Lady de Bourgh was wrong. She will either accept you, or she will be cut from my life. The choice is hers.” Darcy spoke firmly, wanting to convey his sincerity. If there was a choice to be made, there was no choice at all. Elizabeth would always come first, and if Lady Catherine could not accept that, he would withdraw his presence from her life.
It wasn’t as though he wanted to marry his cousin. Neither he nor Anne desired such a union, but it was impossible to convince Lady Catherine of that. Perhaps having a new Mrs. Darcy would finally get the point across like a bludgeon to the head.
“In that case, I shall accept marriage by special license, assuming Papa gives his permission.”
“I am certain I can convince him,” Darcy said as they entered Longbourn.
***
HE HAD CAUSE TO DOUBT that confidence a few hours later, once all the fussing had ceased, and they had spirited Elizabeth upstairs for a hot bath and time in bed. He now stood in front of Mr. Bennet, who seemed reluctant to accept his suit.
“I understand the circumstances are quite compromising, Mr. Darcy, but I fear I cannot allow Elizabeth to throw away her life on an unhappy match just for the sake of convention.”
Darcy scowled. “You are being naïve, Mr. Bennet. It is not simply a matter of ignoring what happened. She will be compromised. Her loss of reputation will affect Miss Mary and Miss Catherine’s prospects as well. Surely, you must see marriage is the only solution?”
Mr. Bennet leaned back, staring at Fitzwilliam impassively. He seemed unbothered by the fact he was seated while he stood in a superior position over the older man. He also seemed undaunted by the Darcys’ higher ranking in society. “I was once a foolish young man and mistook attraction for love, Mr. Darcy. It is a most unhappy state of affairs to end up in such a marriage, and I would not curse any of my daughters with it.”
“But—”
Mr. Bennet ignored him. “Heaven knows, Lydia is likely miserable enough, and though she made her bed and must lie in it, I have sympathy for her situation as well. Under the circumstances, I cannot believe that Lizzy will be shunned for not marrying you.”
Darcy rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You must not spend much time in Society then, Mr. Bennet.”
“Indeed. I spend as exceedingly little amount as possible. I much prefer the comfort of my books.” He seemed proud about that.
“You are stymying Elizabeth’s chances of moving about in Society by denying the match.” He shook his head. “After you have died, and the entailment passes to Mr. Collins, Elizabeth will need to be able to move freely in society to find a husband. If you deny her this match, she will never find someone to offer for her.”
Mr. Bennet scowled. “I would not have anyone offer for her out of duty or obligation. She will only accept a love match, and I completely endorse that.”
Fitzwilliam dropped into the chair across from Mr. Bennet, feeling worn down from the arguing he’d indulged in for the last twenty minutes, trying to counter Mr. Bennet’s assertions by other means.
Reluctantly, he played his trump card. “I fear you do not know everything that took place last night, Mr. Bennet. Even now, there is a chance Elizabeth could be carrying my child. I would not have a bastard born, and we will elope if you do not give permission. She does not require it at Gretna Green.”
Mr. Bennet’s face darkened. “You took advantage of my beloved daughter? I thought you were a hero who had saved her. Now I find out you played the villain. Shame on you, Mr. Darcy. No wonder you are so eager to propose, lest your actions come to light. Surely, it is you who will be reviled, not my daughter.”
Fitzwilliam blinked at him. Could Mr. Bennet really be so out of touch with how the Ton functioned? Before he could counter the ridiculously naïve assertions, the study door burst open, and it slammed behind Elizabeth a second later.
She strode across the room, hands on her hips, and stood beside the chair Darcy occupied. “Papa, it was not like that at all. Mr. Darcy had proposed before I surrendered my virginity to him, and I have no regrets. I love Fitzwilliam, and I do wish to marry him.” Her voice softened. “Please, Papa, give your consent. I have often said I would only marry for love, and that has not changed.”
Fitzwilliam stiffened when she reached down to take his hand, pulling it up with both of hers and bringing it to her mouth to kiss his fingers. “My opinion of Mr. Darcy has changed significantly, and I fear I could not love another the way I do him. We require your blessing, but if you do not give it, it is merely a delay in our joining.”
Mr. Bennet seemed to be at a loss for a moment. He blinked a bit like an owl, studying the two of them. Then he lifted a hand and waved it. “I shall never understand women. It seems a rather abrupt and insane reversal of position, but I do not doubt you. I know you to be honest and forthright, my daughter, and so if you say you love this man, I have no choice but to believe it. I shall give my consent, and you shall be Mrs. Darcy after the banns are read.”
“We shall be married via special license,” said Darcy quickly. “As I said, there are reasons.” He shot a significant look at Lizzy’s flat stomach.
Mr. Bennet’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then you must marry in haste.”
“Do not look at it that way, Papa. This is merely the fastest way to seal our union, which I most desire.” Lizzy looked at Fitzwilliam, and her eyes were filled with love.
He blinked to keep back tears at the sight of it, and it was difficult to draw in a deep breath for a moment at the lump in his throat.
“I do love him so, Papa.”
“And I love you, Lizzy.” He barely kept himself in check, resisting the urge to kiss her in front of her father. He had already made a grim enough impression on Mr. Bennet, but he hoped years of loving devotion would be enough to prove to his future father-in-law that he truly loved Elizabeth and would do his best to make her happy and care for her.
“In that case, I suspect we must have a celebration. No doubt, your mother is also listening at the door, and she shall soon...” Mr. Bennet trailed off with a sigh.
“Hill, bring the champagne,” called Fanny Bennet about that moment.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “There we are.” His expression softened. “Truly, if you are happy, then I am happy for you, darling Eliza.” He looked at Darcy, making Darcy stiffen. “And I hope you will bring her as much happiness as she brings you.”
“I shall spend every day of my life endeavoring to do so, Mr. Bennet.”
That promise seemed to be enough to satisfy Mr. Bennet, and they were soon out of his study and joining the others in a celebratory glass of champagne. No doubt, word had reached Netherfield by now that they were safe at Longbourn, so there was no reason to worry or despair. Elizabeth would soon be his wife, and Fitzwilliam was positive it would be a happy life with her.