Elizabeth paused on the landing of the great staircase at Pemberley, looking down to where Georgiana, dressed in a gown of the finest silk and lace, was in happy consultation with Mrs. Reynolds, no doubt over some last-minute detail. She smiled at the liveliness evident in the quick movements of Georgiana’s graceful hands and the animation of her voice as she spoke, and she could not help but contrast this happy and elegant woman with the somber and quiet girl she had first met four years previously. What a change time had made! Time, the love of her family, and most especially the tender affection of the young man who would be taking her as his wife later that morning—all had combined to transform her into the joyful and lovely bride she was today.
It had been a long road; despite everything Elizabeth had done to try to help her sister-in-law to heal her wounds, there had been times when she had despaired of ever seeing the sadness in her eyes lift. But persistence had proved the key, along with the unconditional adoration of her niece and nephew. It will be hard for them to accept that Aunt Georgiana is not available for their every whim anymore! she thought, knowing perfectly well that nothing would keep Georgiana away for long.
She was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not hear footsteps approaching behind her until a pair of familiar arms stole around her waist. With a contented sigh, she leaned back against her husband, feeling his warmth infuse her.
“My best beloved,” he murmured, nuzzling her hair. Looking downstairs to see what had caught her interest, he said, “Does this bring back memories?”
“Well, not of our wedding day,” she said with a laugh. “That was far too disorganized an affair—Mrs. Reynolds would never have permitted it, had she been there. But of how we began—yes, a little.” Their marriage, though, had led directly to this day; had Darcy not married her, without fortune or connections, he would never have considered approving Georgiana’s choice. Although her betrothed was gently bred—he was, in fact, a distant Fitzwilliam connection who had become Darcy’s protégé—as a third son he had no fortune of his own. Ironically, Georgiana had come to know him after Darcy bestowed on him the living at Kympton, which was once destined to be Wickham’s; but a more dissimilar soul could not have existed. Mr. Wagner’s gentle nature and cheerful outlook made him a perfect match for Georgiana, and it had been he more than anyone who had drawn her out of her shell.
She realized Darcy had grown very still, and she knew him well enough to be aware that this signified serious thoughts. “What is it, my love?” she asked, turning her head to kiss his cheek lightly.
“Oh, I was thinking how close I came to never having you,” he said, and she could hear, even after all these years, the distant echo of that pain in his voice. “Thank you for being willing to take the risk of accepting me.”
She turned in his arms until she could hold him, pressing her head against his. “My love, I cannot imagine my life without you,” she said. “And the risk was yours, as you know well.”
“Minx,” he said affectionately, recalling her fears for him. They had not proved to be completely unfounded; once word of her past had leaked into London society, there had been a definite chilling of the atmosphere there, and invitations which once would have been forthcoming slowed considerably. Their first, and only, Season in London had not been a particular success, at least not until the arrival of Darcy’s aunt and uncle in Town. He had not minded, however; he far preferred being at Pemberley with Elizabeth to being in London without her, and there had been no difficulty with her acceptance in Derbyshire society—Mrs. Darcy was the mistress of Pemberley, regardless of whence she had come. The matter of her past still worried her upon occasion, but she could not deny his contentedness with his situation, nor his reliance upon her.
Their marriage, as it happened, had not been completely without benefit to Darcy’s family. By an odd twist of fate, that same loss of social status inflicted on Darcy by his marriage had proved an unexpected boon to his cousin. Lord and Lady Matlock, unlike Lady Catherine de Bourgh, had decided they were above acknowledging that there was any fault in Darcy’s choice of bride. They had welcomed Elizabeth into their family circle, and, as prominent and influential leaders in the ton, tolerated no slights to either her or Darcy at social events they hosted or attended. More than one socialite had discovered the price of angering Lord and Lady Matlock, finding themselves excluded from many further invitations.
This had not gone unnoticed by the clever mind of Sir Thomas Carlisle, who had parlayed an interest in textile production from a beginning in penury to one of the greatest fortunes of the age. Although as a tradesman he would never be accepted in the ton, he was not afraid to part with a great deal of that fortune to allow his only daughter to make her way into the kind of society he himself would never be allowed to enter, and he saw in Lord and Lady Matlock’s treatment of Elizabeth a possibility for his daughter’s future. It was not long before an approach was made, and Colonel Fitzwilliam was brought to trade the prestige and protection of the Fitzwilliam name for the extensive fortune of the former Miss Sophia Carlisle.
Although Darcy and Elizabeth had not seen a great deal of them since their marriage, Elizabeth was fond of Sophia, finding her both amiable and unpretentious. While no one could claim it had been a love match, there was a clear amicability between her and her husband, and they shared a fondness for society which made their townhouse a center for many gatherings. Richard, who had resigned his commission on his marriage, often tried to convince Darcy to join them in Town for the Season, but Darcy would always refuse, claiming to prefer to enjoy Pemberley with his family.
Elizabeth felt a shift in his body and realized he was no longer thinking about the past but about the very present moment. She smiled at him in amusement as he pressed himself against her in an unmistakable manner. “I believe we have a wedding to attend, my dear,” she said lightly.
“I hope it will be over soon, and the wedding breakfast very brief, because I have some urgent business to discuss with you,” he said, with that look in his eyes that could still awaken her desires.
“Well, perhaps it would not have been so urgent had you not stayed up half the night drinking with Richard!” she said tartly, but with a smile which removed any sting from her words.
He gave her an intent look. “Why, did you miss me?” he asked teasingly.
She snuggled against him. “Of course I did,” she said.
He leaned over to whisper intimately in her ear. “Well, I shall have to make it up to you then, my best beloved, as soon as our guests leave. Fortunately, that gives me some time to think over the question of how best to satisfy you. Shall I use my hand first, or my mouth to please you? Or perhaps both. I may not be able to wait as long as it takes to get to our bedchamber; we may have to make do with the study, because I am very hungry”—he paused to nibble her ear delicately—“to hear you cry out in pleasure at my touch.”
The past four years had taught Elizabeth how much her husband enjoyed saying such forbidden things to her, and how exciting he found it to whisper intimacies like this to her when they were in a public setting, yet still she coloured lightly. She could not deny that she found his behaviour arousing, as a familiar feeling of liquid heat began to build within her, and she gave him a wicked look, because she also knew that part of his pleasure came from seeing her response to him.
“And you want that too, do you not?” he continued to whisper as she fixed her eyes on the scene unfolding in the hall below, where Richard and Sophia had joined Georgiana. “You want me to touch you again and again until your pleasure takes you, and I want to see your face as it happens, because you are so very beautiful at that moment.”
She looked down at the floor, reflecting with a smile that she would never have thought that the staid Mr. Darcy she first met would have such a taste for skirting the edges of forbidden territory, nor that she could ever find it so appealing. She very properly said nothing, though, knowing he was fully capable of reading her reaction from her body.
“In fact, my loveliest Elizabeth, I find I am far too impatient to wait until after the wedding breakfast.”
She raised an eyebrow. “We do have a wedding to attend,” she pointed out, with a look that expressed her certainty that he would ignore that fact, and that she would follow his lead willingly.
His eyes flared. “That means only that we must not linger,” he said softly as he released his hold on her, only to take her hand and direct her back along the hallway to the study.
He locked the door and led her to a chair, where he lost no time in arranging her across his lap and moving directly toward his goal. He smiled broadly and nipped at her lips as his fingers discovered the incontrovertible evidence of her arousal. As she arched in pleasure at his intimate touch, he said seductively, “I can see this will not take long at all, my love.” Her only reply was a moan as he used his knowledge of her body to rob her of any remaining coherent thought.
He was right; it did not take long for him to bring her to the limits of her pleasure, nor did it take long when she exacted her revenge by opening the front of his breeches and straddling him with a boldness which would have shocked her in the earliest days of their marriage. It was a boldness which her husband appreciated and encouraged, and she did not hesitate to show him her enjoyment in bringing him to his own peak of pleasure.
They enjoyed the comfort of being in one another’s arms for a short interval, and then Darcy said reluctantly, “Though I would love to stay here, we must go; I would not want to shock Georgiana with our absence.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Georgiana is completely shock-proof after living with us so long, my love.” Though Darcy often worried about his sister discovering evidence of their intimate activities, in her own mind, Elizabeth thought it had done his sister a world of good to occasionally run into proof that joyful passion could be part of a happy marriage.
She took a few minutes to restore her appearance to a public standard, then held out her hand to her husband. “Shall we go, then?” she asked.
He kissed her lingeringly before agreeing, appreciating the particular look of softness Elizabeth’s eyes always held after they had made love. “I will go anywhere with you, my love,” he said.
“The church would seem to be a good place to start,” she teased. Darcy unlocked the door, and the two made their way down the stairs hand in hand until they came within sight of the others, then reluctantly released their hold on each other.
“Good God,” Richard said in an amused voice when he spotted them. “If they are not every bit as insufferable as they were as newlyweds!”
“Yes, we certainly are,” said Darcy, his tone daring anyone to challenge him.
Elizabeth looked at the two men affectionately. “Insufferable or not, I believe we have a wedding to attend, gentlemen,” she said lightly. She shared a smile of amused understanding with Sophia, silently acknowledging the occasional challenges of dealing with the Fitzwilliam men, then each woman took her husband’s arm as they left for the church.