Though Elizabeth delighted in the chance to spend time with her future husband, a carriage ride with her mother and Kitty was not the ideal means to do it. Thankfully, the clip-clop of the horse's hooves and the gentle rocking of Mr. Darcy’s well sprung carriage had lulled Mrs. Bennet and Kitty to sleep, giving Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth a rare moment to speak candidly.
Mr. Darcy explained, “After we are married, we will first stay in London at my townhouse, and then to Pemberley.”
Elizabeth smiled. “After we are married...”
They sat close together, and the heat of his body mingling with his scent, sandalwood, leather, and musk, stoked her desire. She wanted to touch him, but with her sister and mother in the carriage, she dared only brush a gloved hand over his chest.
“At Pemberley, a single door will separate our rooms, but my townhouse has only one master bedroom. Is it to your liking we share quarters, or shall I have the servants prepare you the nearest guest room?”
Guest room! Elizabeth tamped down her irritation. Mr. Darcy could not mean for her to be a guest in their own home? Could he? His expression showed the sentiment of a gentleman wishing to offer every comfort. But she was not such a country flower as to shy away from the heat of her husband’s embrace.
Elizabeth smiled, and she lowered her tone, meeting his eyes in a way that made his pupils widen. Good. “I would require the guest room,” she began slowly, “Only if our marriage is one of convenience. Is it?” She teased him with her deadly serious question.
“Con–convenience?” he stammered.
“If it is mere convenience, I will need weeks to prepare myself with the Book of Common Prayer. As my marriage would be a duty and not a pleasure.”
“It will be a pleasure,” Mr. Darcy blurted.
“Lovely.” Elizabeth giggled. “I would rather a pleasure.” She ran her tongue between her lips. “Many pleasures.”
There was a pause, then he let out a sigh of relief at her jest. “Teasing a man the day before his wedding is dangerous, especially when I so look forward to ravishing your person.”
“Ravishing….? Do you keep sheep?”
“Sheep?” Mr. Darcy coughed.
Elizabeth could grow to love that slight furrow between his brows when she confused him. “I should prefer my mattress tick stuffed with flock. For comfort. For sleeping.” Elizabeth smiled as she touched his chest again, this time playing with a button on his shirt. He rewarded her efforts with a sharp intake of breath.
“I can assure you, my lady, that if a mattress tick is not up to your standards, I will have it immediately replaced.” Mr. Darcy tugged at her gloved hand, pulling it first down, where he kissed her on her pulse point, then off, where he kissed her on the top of her naked middle finger.
Elizabeth sighed. Being married to this man was going to be such a joy, and definitely a passionate, loving relationship. How she had thought he was stuffy, aloof, and full of himself? Such prejudices seemed a distant mistake. Impossible. He was so warm, their conversations full of affection.
The carriage hit a stone and rattled along, and Mrs. Bennet briefly opened her eyes. “Elizabeth?” she sighed.
“Yes, Mama?” Elizabeth replied, pulling away from Mr. Darcy to a respectable distance.
“These roads,” Mrs. Bennet murmured. “They plague my nerves.” She rambled along for another half-minute or so before drifting into slumber again. When she began to snore, Elizabeth returned her attentions to her fiancé.
Mr. Darcy said, “The ride from the Hershels and the visit seems to have worn out your mother.”
“Yes. Socializing and gossiping can be tiring,” Elizabeth whispered, an impish grin crossing her face.
“It is quite stressful, catching up with everyone else’s business. A wonder your mother stayed awake as long as she did,” Mr. Darcy replied, his lip quirking.
“And Kitty made attempt to flirt with every available gentleman.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I do hope without Lydia we can shake Kitty of this habit of flirtation.”
“Perhaps she can spend time with my sister Georgiana?”
“So long as your sister is the example followed and not the reverse,” Elizabeth said with a sigh. “My family...” She shrugged.
“They are yours, my love, and thus I will love them. Since we will spend the rest of our lives together, I am content to have silly in-laws in my circle, whatever their eccentricities.”
Elizabeth swallowed. “You are a kind man.”
“I love you with all my heart. You have changed me, hopefully for the better.” They moved closer together again. “May I kiss you, Miss Elizabeth?”
Elizabeth felt her heart quicken, and her stomach tightened at the prospect. She was going to spend the rest of her life kissing him, and each time, she knew, would bring a similar response. “Yes, please.”
Mr. Darcy leaned in, gently running his finger down her jawline, feeling the warm of her neck and kissed, first softly, then with more passion—his lips against hers.
He wanted her. Elizabeth could feel his need in the kiss, and tomorrow night, she would be his. She would soon begin living the life she had always imagined, a life with a man who loved her wholeheartedly and with abandon. They would spend their days laughing and talking and their nights in each other’s arms.
What more could she ask for in becoming Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy?
The horses squealed as the carriage jerked, swinging wildly to a bumping stop.
Mrs. Bennet and Kitty screamed.
In the silence after, Elizabeth struggled to catch her breath.
“What on earth is going on?” Mrs. Bennet demanded.
“Mother?” Kitty’s voice was muffled, as Mrs. Bennet had shoved her into the side of the carriage.
A man opened the carriage door and leaned inside. A cold rush of air followed. The winter sun shone brightly behind him, rendering his form shadow.
“Mr. Rendell?” Kitty asked.
The man grunted.
“That’s not—”
The man grabbed Elizabeth’s arm, pulling her away from her mother, sister, and Mr. Darcy. She was aware that this man’s breath stank, that his beard, which her face slammed into, was rough and smelled of too much ale and whiskey. He was strong, first pulling then carrying her away from the carriage.
She beat against him, panic setting in. “What are you doing? Unhand me, unhand me, sir!” Her breath plumbed white in the cold, bright air.
Behind her, Mr. Darcy shouted the same as he chased after them while Mrs. Bennet screamed, “Brigands! Mr. Darcy, do not abandon us!”
Elizabeth punched and kicked her hardest at the man clutching her, but she only hurt herself. She didn’t care; she had to get away from this man, get back to her family and Mr. Darcy. It was her sole purpose now, and the farther he carried, her the harder she fought.
“Ow!” she heard the man grunt, his grip loosening. She swung again, connecting with what she thought was his eye. He groaned but still held tight, even as she dug fingernails into his cheek.
Elizabeth wanted to scratch his eyes out. How dare he take advantage of her like this! She swung again.
This time, she was sure she hit him in the eye. He screamed in pain and slapped her across the face, which only made her more incensed.
“How dare you!” Elizabeth screamed. “Fitzwilliam, help!”
“You do not need much help; you are doing just fine all by yerself,” the brigand grumbled. “Wild woman, you are. What were you, raised by wolves?”
Elizabeth swung again as he gathered her hands together. She tried to bite his arm, but he wrenched it away before she could chomp down.
“Blast and damnation!” he screamed at her.
Then she began to kick again, injuring his shins as best she could. He was dragging her now, for she had wiggled out of his grasp. “Ye better be worth the money. Gold and silver, I’ll ask for ye.”
Elizabeth continued to kick, now winded but still determined.
He dragged to his horse by her hair, an agony, and threw her face down across his saddle. He leaped up behind.
Elizabeth screamed, kicking and punching at the horse’s body, but she was held tightly in place and could not escape.
“Help!” she screamed. “Fitzwilliam, help me!”