CHAPTER 19
“The memory is sometimes so retentive, so
serviceable,
so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again,
so tyrannic, so beyond control!”
so obedient; at others, so bewildered and so weak; and at others again,
so tyrannic, so beyond control!”
Jane Austen, Mansfield Park, 1814
Darcy had been home for two days, and he had yet
to have a private conversation with Elizabeth. She offered
civilities, but no signs of the return of her regard for him. Every
once in awhile, he would note what he thought to be a flicker of
desire in her eyes when she looked at him, but then Elizabeth would
purposely look away.When she looked at him again, an empty vessel
sat before him—devoid of feelings.
He caught her in the upstairs hallway. “Will you
not speak to me, Elizabeth?”
“What do you wish me to say, Fitzwilliam? I am
still willing to be the student.” She forced herself to look him
directly in his eyes as the sarcasm dripped from her lips.
Anger sprang to his bearing, but he squashed his
urge to deliver a retort.“You ask of what I wish from you.” Darcy
tried to control the evenness in his voice, not wanting to betray
his need for a positive response from her.“I told you of my wishes
previously if you care to address any of them.”
“Your wishes change so often, Fitzwilliam; I am not
sure which ones you mean.” Her hurt could not be hidden.“Would you
care to enlighten me?”
“No,” he shook his head in disbelief, “I will ask
nothing more of you than what you are willing to give.” With that,
Darcy walked away.
Elizabeth wanted desperately to call him back—to
throw her arms around Darcy’s neck and to kiss him until he thought
of nothing but loving her. Could she continue on like this? She did
not want to be just Darcy’s wife in name only. She loved Darcy
against her will.
Darcy, too, felt the sting of their exchange.
Clearly what was happening to them was his fault, and he
experienced guilt at causing Elizabeth such distress. She offered
him overtures of love, and he irresponsibly threw them away with a
show of familial pride. He tried to be the perfect gentleman, the
man his father expected him to show the world, but Elizabeth
created a sense of abandon in him, a sense which she now withdrew
with a dose of sarcasm; frustration ruled his day. It troubled him
deeply that this frustration had no impact on his perfidious desire
to find Elizabeth, take her in his arms, and kiss her until she
thought of nothing but loving him. Could he continue on like this?
Darcy did not want her to be his wife in name only. He loved her
against his reason and against his character.
At dinner, he returned to his favorite topics of
late: the accomplished Miss McFarland and the incomparable Henry
Dorchester. Both Elizabeth and Georgiana sat with lowered eyes and
with unresponsive thoughts. Mr. Ashford, who was asked to dine with
the Darcys, noted the effect Darcy’s speech had on Mrs. Darcy and
Georgiana, and he tried unsuccessfully to redirect Darcy’s
interest. He even resorted to discussing military history, a
subject Ashford abhorred, but Darcy loved.
“Miss McFarland knows all the right people,
Georgiana. She will be an asset to your presentation.”
“Yes, Fitzwilliam,” Georgiana barely
whispered.
“The lady is quite lovely; this is her second
season. If I understand it correctly, Miss McFarland turned down
several offers last season. The Dorchesters took possession of Lord
Suterland’s place for the spring. Lady Suterland is quite ill, and
his Lordship let the house to the Dorchesters.”
Georgiana’s voice held her dismay. “They will be
close to Kensington Place then?”
“Very close—I expect we will see Miss McFarland and
the Dorchesters often.” Darcy sat back in his chair, pleased he
made such a connection for his sister’s first season; a smile of
satisfaction played across his face.
His revelry was short in duration, as Elizabeth
violently shoved her chair back from the table as she stood to
leave.“Beware, Fitzwilliam,” she snapped,“illusions are dangerous
as they have no flaws.” She took a step away from the table, her
hand still on the back of the chair. With the anger pent up in her
since before Darcy left for London, Elizabeth forcefully slammed
the chair again, sending it tumbling over with a banging sound and
sending an ornate spindle from the leg sliding across the room. She
gathered her skirts and ran from the room.
Kitty excused herself to attend to Elizabeth, and
Georgiana followed closely behind the two. Darcy sat suspended with
the impropriety of the scene. “I apologize for my wife’s manners,
Mr. Ashford. She has been very emotional since the conception of
our child.” Darcy forced himself to steady his countenance as he
addressed the clergyman.
Ashford cleared his throat before he spoke.“Mr.
Darcy, may I speak as a ministerial adviser?” Darcy nodded
briefly.“I know very little of the female constitution, but you may
want to temper your praise of Miss McFarland in your wife’s
presence.”
Darcy reasoned out loud. “I meant nothing by it,
Mr. Ashford. I simply spoke of the connection for my sister’s
sake.”
“You may be speaking of your sister’s connection,
but Mrs. Darcy, obviously, heard something different. Women, I
suspect, would not like to compare themselves to a woman of high
connections, accomplishments, and beauty. Mrs. Darcy could be
hearing your praise of another woman from a different perspective.”
Ashford tried not to say any more. Criticizing his benefactor could
be a mistake.
“I take note of your advice,” Darcy said casually.
“I will guard my words next time.”
Ashford said nothing else. Not only was Fitzwilliam
Darcy Ashford’s benefactor, he would be Ashford’s brother through
marriage. Sometimes the wealthy wrapped themselves in their petty
concerns and missed the everyday happiness within their grasps.
Ashford hoped to be wiser in his dealings with Kitty Bennet.
Elizabeth did not return downstairs that evening.
Darcy sat in their sitting room until late, hoping she would
“accidentally” find him there. Hannah told him her mistress cried
herself to sleep. He did not like being the cause of Elizabeth’s
pain once again. It seemed he caused her constant grief with his
presence in her life. He wondered how they could continue in this
manner. The simplest answer was to go on—pretending to be polite
and obliging—and hoping for a chance at a revival of Elizabeth’s
old feelings. He supposed he should avoid her as much as possible
considering his company made her life more difficult.
Before he retired for the night, Darcy opened the
door to her bedchamber to peer in on her. Elizabeth lay on her
side, her back to him. She did not move, and Darcy assumed she
slept. “I am truly sorry, Elizabeth,” he whispered to the reclining
figure. If he could have seen her face, he would have seen a tear
sliding down her cheek and Elizabeth biting her lower lip to keep
from calling out his name.
In the morning after breakfast, Elizabeth set off
along the pathways behind the house. Taking her time, she made the
climb toward the hunting lodge she and Darcy shared before he left
for Hull—before her life changed—before she lost Darcy’s
love.
Having finally achieved her destination, she
entered the lodge and sat in front of the cold fireplace. She
wrapped her arms around herself to fight off the chill of the room
and the depth of her despair. Elizabeth did not know why she came
here today; the place held memories of the joy of being with Darcy
when he loved her unconditionally. She wondered what he meant about
being sorry.Was he sorry he hurt her or sorry he married her? As
much as she did want not to do so, she could not stop loving her
husband.
After a nearly sleepless night, Darcy joined Mr.
Howard and several other Pemberley workers as they took some of the
excess game on the estate.The plan to thin the deer herd and the
rabbits and use the meat turned out to be a good one so far. This
was their third hunt. Today, the hunters would drive the deer to an
enclosed glade on the back part of the estate and then kill a
portion of the animals before allowing the rest to escape. Darcy
did not plan to hunt; instead, he would observe the effectiveness
of the idea while sitting atop Cerberus on an overlooking
hill.
The men moved the deer toward the prescribed glade
as he rode hard to the crest of the hill. To the left sat his
father’s favorite hunting lodge on the estate. Pulling up on
Cerberus’s reins, he circled the animal at the summit of an
outcropping. He stared down at the lodge, thinking about his father
taking him there—teaching him to hunt—the smell of his father’s
favorite tobacco flooding his senses. Darcy closed his eyes to
relish the image, but instead, visions of Elizabeth awashed him,
passionately entangled upon a bearskin rug, feeding each other
from a picnic basket, smelling her lavender rushing over him. The
image was so vivid, Darcy actually moaned from desire. “Elizabeth,”
he whispered her name.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to bring life back into
focus, but the image of the woman for whom he felt desire remained
before him. She stepped from the door of the lodge and walked
casually across the lawn, looking out as if waiting for him to come
to her.“Elizabeth,” he said the name a bit louder, captured by the
dream.
Then his mind registered what really happened. The
herd ran right toward where she stood; the hunters would not see
his wife clearly. The cross fire rang out, and almost in slow
motion he saw her look of horror and heard Elizabeth’s cry before
she fell. Several deer jumped her body, rocking her back and forth
as the hoofs struck her.
“Elizabeth!” he screamed as he forced Cerberus down
the incline toward where she lay in a clump.When he finally got to
her, blood gushed from a wound in her leg. Darcy rolled her over on
her back and pulled his cravat from around his neck, wrapping the
cloth tightly around the gushing wound in her leg and then tearing
the ribbon from her dress hem to secure it.
He neither spoke anything to her when he dismounted
nor when he bandaged her leg. Now, Darcy began to caress
Elizabeth’s face and to try to get a response from her as the
hunters approached. “Mr. Howard, keep the men back,” he demanded,
not willing to have Elizabeth exposed to the eyes of strangers.
Howard halted his horse and forced the others away from the
scene.
“Mr. Howard, come here,” Darcy’s voice commanded.
“Help me support Mrs. Darcy onto my horse.Then I want you to ride
for Mr. Spencer.”
“Of course.” Howard swallowed hard when he saw all
the blood.
Darcy scooped Elizabeth into his arms, and with
Howard’s
help settled her in his lap on Cerberus’s back. She lay limp
against him. The blood soaked the bandage he placed on her leg.
Darcy turned toward the house. Within minutes he galloped into the
carriageway. Footmen scrambled to help with the horse and with
Elizabeth’s body. Darcy raced toward the house’s main doorway,
carrying Elizabeth close to his chest.
“My God, not again,” Georgiana gasped as he burst
through the doorway with the limp body of Elizabeth Darcy slumped
against him.
“Mrs. Reynolds!” he yelled.“Hannah!”
Darcy raced toward Elizabeth’s room, Georgiana
barely a step ahead of him. Reaching her bed, he laid Elizabeth
back on the pillows; then lifting the skirt of her dress, he pulled
another strip of material to use as part of her dressing. Jerking
off his jacket, he threw it on the back of a chair. “Where is Mrs.
Reynolds?” he shouted, pressing his hand against the wound to slow
the bleeding.
“Here, Mr. Darcy.” Mrs. Reynolds appeared beside
the bed and began to remove the blood-soaked cravat to clean the
wound. She applied a folded bandage. “Hold this, Mr. Darcy.” He did
as the housekeeper said. “What happened?” Mrs. Reynolds
asked.
“She stepped out of the hunting lodge just as the
men drove the deer toward her for the hunt. I could not get to her
to stop it.”With concern, he looked up at his wife.“How bad is it?”
he pleaded.
“We must wait for Mr. Spencer to know for sure,”
Mrs. Reynolds hissed, as both Georgiana and Kitty stood huddled by
the door in a tearful embrace.
Darcy took the hint. “Georgiana—Kitty, we need more
bandages, and one of you must meet Mr. Spencer as soon as he gets
here.” Darcy’s voice did not hold his usual reticence, but enough
of his bearing remained for both girls to hustle out of the room to
do his bidding.
Mrs. Reynolds took to cleaning the wound once
again, and Darcy set about checking for other injuries. “Elizabeth
seems to have some bruises and cuts, but I see no other open wounds
or anything which is broken.” He addressed his housekeeper as
Hannah rushed in with additional bandages.
“What about the baby?” Hannah asked the question
both Mrs. Reynolds and Darcy avoided.“It will kill Mrs. Darcy if
she loses the child now. Each day, the mistress sits in the nursery
and rocks while she sings softly to the baby. She rubs her stomach
and talks to the child. I heard Mrs. Darcy tell the child about
what she sees out the nursery’s window.” By now, Hannah’s tears
flowed freely.
Darcy swallowed back the hurt he felt; he did not
know Elizabeth cared so about their child. He dropped to his knees
beside the bed and began to pray, an earnest prayer for Elizabeth’s
safety and the life of their child.
“The blood flow slows,” Mrs. Reynolds said as she
removed the latest bandage.“Hannah, I think I hear the men in the
front foyer. Go see if it be Mr. Spencer at last.”
Hannah hurried from the room as Mr. Spencer
entered. Seeing the bloody rags on the floor, the doctor expected a
major wound, but closer inspection told him otherwise.“I will need
to remove the bullet. Mr. Darcy, I need for you to hold down your
wife’s arms and keep her from moving. Mrs. Reynolds and Hannah, I
need the same from you for Mrs. Darcy’s legs.”
“The Mistress has not moved since the Master
carried her in here,” Mrs. Reynolds shared her observation.
“Mrs. Darcy will move when I begin to cut the wound
to remove the bullet,” Spencer assured them. “The mind cannot block
out such pain completely.”
Spencer cleaned his tools and placed them where he
could reach them. He positioned Darcy and the two ladies where he
needed them. Spencer was correct; the moment he began to
cut close to the wound, Elizabeth began to fight them. Darcy laid
his body across her to keep her from moving. “Help me, Fitzwilliam,
please,” she cried, trying to push him away.
“I am helping, Elizabeth. Mr. Spencer must remove
the bullet.” Darcy fought for a breath as she struggled against
him.
“The baby!” she shrieked.
“A few more minutes,” Mr. Spencer encouraged them
to hold Elizabeth still.
Darcy whispered close to her ear.“Please,
Elizabeth.”
“Let me die, Fitzwilliam, let me die,” she
moaned.
“No, Elizabeth,” he gasped.
“Let me die,” she yelled before collapsing back
against the pillows.
“I have it,” the doctor said at last, and her
“wardens” released their grips on her. “Hannah, clean the wound and
dress it. Mr. Darcy, if you will step outside, I will check your
wife for other wounds and for the baby.”
“I will be in the sitting room, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy
looked about, feeling rather useless at the moment.
“Mrs. Reynolds, let us get Mrs. Darcy clean clothes
as we check her wounds.” He set the older woman in action.
Darcy stepped into the hallway and closed the door
behind him. Georgiana rushed to his arms and even Kitty snuggled
into his shoulder.“Elizabeth will be all right,” he assured
them.
“The baby?” Kitty sobbed.
“I am not sure. The herd trampled her once
Elizabeth was shot.”The images flashing in front of his eyes told
Darcy Elizabeth could be in danger. He closed his eyes and stroked
each girl’s head to offer her comfort. “I saw her—but at first I
thought it a dream,” Darcy stammered. “I saw her—saw Elizabeth and
me in our father’s lodge,” he told Georgiana.
“You took Elizabeth there right before you went to
Hull; you said you wanted a private evening with your wife after
all
the company we had at Pemberley during the Festive Season,”
Georgiana retold the tale.
“What did you mean by not again?”
“You and Elizabeth fought about the tenant
celebration.” Georgiana dropped her eyes and lowered her voice.
“She ran out; later Hero returned to the house without her.You
found Elizabeth on the backside of Briton Gorge.You took care of
her yourself; you would let no one else in. Elizabeth protected the
child when she fell. Your carrying her through the door reminded me
of before.”
“I see,” Darcy said, and he did see as images of
Elizabeth’s fragile body lying across his bed mixed with the vision
of holding her for the doctor a few minutes earlier.“Why do you two
not wait in your sitting room, Georgiana? I will come to you when I
have information from the doctor.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Kitty said as she led Georgiana
away.
Nearly a half hour later, Mr. Spencer joined Darcy
in the sitting room. “Mrs. Darcy is lucky once again, Sir. I am
ordering her to bed for a week, but I see no problems for her or
for your child. Again, she protected the baby from harm; you
married a phenomenal woman, Sir.”
“Thank you, Mr. Spencer.” Darcy knew not how to
respond to the doctor’s accolades.
“I gave Mrs. Darcy a weak dose of laudanum. It will
ease her pain; she may not take too much, however, because of the
child.”
Darcy looked concerned.“I understand, Sir.”
“May I ask why Mrs. Darcy begged to die?” The
doctor took Darcy by surprise with his directness.
“We have been at odds of late,” Darcy confessed.
“Other than that, I know not Mrs. Darcy’s reason.”
“I ask because your wife’s mental state is as
important as her physical recovery,” Spencer tried to explain his
reasoning to Darcy.
“I will see to it, Mr. Spencer,” Darcy assured the
man.“I will let nothing happen to Mrs. Darcy.”
“That is all I ask, Mr. Darcy. I will come to check
on your wife tomorrow.”
Like Mr. Spencer, Darcy wondered why Elizabeth
cried out to die. Did she hate him so much she no longer wanted to
live—to live with him—to share his life—to bear his children? Did
Elizabeth purposely put herself in harm’s way? Mr. Spencer said she
protected the child so that did not appear a possibility. Yet, why
did she go to the lodge? Did she plan to meet someone there? Was
she really looking for someone to come to her?
Could there be another man in Elizabeth’s life?
Would she find solace in someone else’s arms? Mr. Howard? A
tradesman? Mr. Harrison? Could that be the reason Elizabeth changed
her mind about the man? They were closer in age than he and
Elizabeth. She spoke of how much he meant to her when Darcy was
missing; Elizabeth even portrayed Harrison to Darcy’s tenants as a
man in charge of Pemberley. Could she do so in the guise of
presenting him with Georgiana? Darcy’s thoughts ran rampant. Just
as he allowed himself to care for Elizabeth, could he lose her to
another man? Her request to die haunted him.
Elizabeth lay in the bed recovering from her wound
and other injuries.The laudanum helped her to sleep, something she
had not done fully since Darcy left for Hull, but it did not keep
her from dreaming of him. He carried her lovingly to the safety of
her bed; Darcy whispered endearments to her; he prayed for her
recovery. Elizabeth enjoyed dreams of his coming to her—of her
happiness.
For two days Kitty, Georgiana, Hannah, and Mrs.
Reynolds took turns sitting with her. Mr. Spencer reported to Darcy
each day regarding Elizabeth’s progress, but he could not force
himself to return to Elizabeth’s room. Late in the evening as
Hannah slept close to tend her mistress, Darcy stood at the door
watching his sleeping wife. He wanted her; he did not think he
could survive Elizabeth’s leaving him. For a reason he could not
explain, Elizabeth fit his plan for Pemberley and for his
life.
Mrs. Reynolds found him leaning against the
doorframe. “Why do you not go to your wife, Master Fitzwilliam?”
she whispered as she came up behind him.
Darcy spun around, ashamed at being caught watching
Elizabeth. “I have other things to address,” he snapped as he
started past his housekeeper.
“Master Fitzwilliam.” Her words stopped Darcy
short. The woman helped raise him, especially after Darcy’s mother
became so ill.“What troubles you?”
Her words of concern nearly undid his resolve, but
finally he answered,“I have no troubles, Mrs. Reynolds.”
“Then explain to me, Mr. Darcy, how a man who once
was so devoted to his wife he would risk his own life to save her
could now not go to that same woman when she needs him?” Mrs.
Reynolds looked him directly in the eye.
“I need not explain myself to you, Mrs. Reynolds.”
Darcy gave her a look, which would scare most, but she knew that
look really meant Darcy hid his feelings.
“Master Fitzwilliam,” she began slowly, “Mrs. Darcy
is the best thing to happen to you. You were profoundly sad; you
were lost until that woman came into your life.You have been given
a great gift—a love to last the ages. Go to your wife, Mr.
Darcy.”
“Do not tell me how to conduct my personal life,
Mrs. Reynolds.” Darcy continued his resistance.
“Mr. Darcy, I was never ashamed to be a close
member of your staff until now.” She reprimanded him in the tone
she used on him in his youth.
“Mrs. Reynolds, you overstep your bounds,” he
warned.
The housekeeper shook her head in disbelief. “So do
you, Mr. Darcy.” Her voice held the sadness he felt. Mrs. Reynolds
entered Elizabeth’s room and closed the door to Darcy’s
presence.
He returned to his room and tried to rest. Could
Mrs. Reynolds be right? Had he allowed his growing vulnerability to
Elizabeth to turn into insane jealousy? Where did his loyalties
lie? He was a Darcy—his ancestral name meant something in
England. Fitzwilliam, his mother’s name, came from a long
line of nobility; it gave him a conscious awareness of his own
social position.
He wanted to be able to turn to Elizabeth; he
wanted to be rid of the sorrow he felt at losing both his parents;
he wanted to make his parents proud; he wanted to make the right
decisions for Georgiana. Darcy had Pemberley; he had respect; he
had wealth, but he did not have contentment.
Brought up in opulence, he learned superiority at
his father’s knee; had he not been warned repeatedly of those who
would flatter him to become an intimate? When he remembered his
interactions with Elizabeth, Darcy saw himself as proud and leaden.
Elizabeth accused him of not only arrogance but of conceit and
disdain for others.
He often, of late, wondered how he would feel if
someone spoke to Georgiana as he spoke to his wife. Even if he and
Georgiana had no more than what Elizabeth had to offer, Darcy knew
he would call the dastard out, and a duel would ensue. His place in
the world was unthreatened until there was Elizabeth; now he had
become more pensive and introspective—his life a quandary—he wanted
to once more try to make Elizabeth a part of his life. He wanted to
show her he changed, but first, he would need what his sister said;
he would have to find value in himself; he would alter how he spoke
to people and how he thought of people and how he treated
people. If he could do so without glory, but because it was
the right action, then maybe he could someday present himself to
Elizabeth again.
Unable to sleep, he made his way once more to
Elizabeth’s room. “I will stay, Hannah,” he told her maid. “Come
back in the morning.”
“Yes, Sir.” Hannah made a quick curtsy. “It has
been several hours since Mrs. Darcy had any medication for the
pain. She may need it soon.”
“Thank you, Hannah.” Darcy took the seat next to
Elizabeth’s bed. Without thinking about it, he took his wife’s
hand, subconsciously massaging her palm and wrist with his
fingertips.
Within a few minutes, Elizabeth’s eyelids fluttered
open to find Darcy beside her. “Fitzwilliam,” her voice came out
soft and breathy.
He moved to the edge of her bed, never releasing
her hand. “May I get something for you?” he said while moving the
hair away from her face.
Elizabeth smiled briefly. “No, I have everything I
need at the moment.” She moved her hand to catch his with
hers.
They remained as such, eyes locked onto each other.
“Hannah says you are due for medication. May I prepare a dose of
laudanum for you?”
Her eyes searched Darcy’s features. “I would prefer
not to take any more medication. I worry about it hurting our
child.”
“That is very brave of you.” Darcy caressed her
face.
Elizabeth tentatively asked, “Would you stay with
me, my Husband?”
“If you so desire.” Darcy moved closer. “How does
your leg feel?”
“It burns, and it feels so heavy.” Elizabeth
struggled to compose her words. “I may not be able to sleep without
the laudanum, but I want to try.”
“I hate laudanum. I understand. It makes me see
things which do not exist.We may talk or just sit together, but I
will not leave you tonight.”
His words made Elizabeth shiver with
anticipation.“Thank you, Fitzwilliam. I missed just being with
you.” With his help, Elizabeth moved up in the bed where she could
address him.“I am sorry I have been such a bother to you.”
“I worried about you, but I would not term you to
be a bother. If you are able, may we talk about something of our
lives? I have images of some things which confuse me.” Darcy’s
voice contained a tenderness Elizabeth had not heard for some
time.
“Certainly, Fitzwilliam, of what would you wish to
speak?”
“Would you tell me about us? I mean, from the
beginning—I need to know how we came to be.”
She swallowed hard, thinking where and how to
begin; then Elizabeth tightened her hold on his hand. “We first met
when you came to Netherfield Park with Mr. Bingley. At an assembly
you criticized me as being only tolerable,” Elizabeth began.
Nearly two hours later, exhausted, she told him of his leaving for
Hull.
During this, Darcy seemed captivated by their
interactions and how they came to a better understanding. Elizabeth
told him what she knew of his transformation after his first
proposal at Hunsford. Some anecdotes made him laugh; others shocked
him. “We make a science of misconstruing each other,” Darcy
offered.
“At times, it seems so,” Elizabeth chuckled
lightly,“but once we came together, I like to think we completed
one another. You once told Jane I was your other half.”
Moved by her words, Darcy leaned forward to kiss
Elizabeth lightly, but quickly he deepened the kiss, and Elizabeth
pulled him to her. “I did not come here for this.” Darcy’s lips
were only inches from hers.“Plus, you should rest.”
“Would you lie with me? The pain increases, and I
doubt I can sustain my deference to the medications alone.”
Elizabeth stroked his jaw line.
“If it will help you.” Darcy repositioned Elizabeth
in the bed, and then he slid in beside her.“May I hold you?”
Elizabeth nodded and then moved her head to rest on
Darcy’s shoulder.“I love your hair when you have it down,” he
whispered to her as he twisted a curl around his finger. Darcy felt
Elizabeth stiffen with pain. “I do not want to see you suffer.” He
stroked her arm.
“Just hold me tight—do not let me go.” Darcy pulled
Elizabeth to him, wrapping his arms closely around her and allowing
Elizabeth’s warmth to radiate through him. Elizabeth laced her
fingers into his hair and felt the fine lawn of his nightshirt
along her arm. She kissed his neck under his chin line.“I like the
way you distract me,” she murmured.
“Mr. Spencer told me to address both your mental
and your physical recovery,” Darcy’s voice came out breathy.
Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled as her voice was laced
with desire. “Tell Mr. Spencer I could overdose on this type of
medicine; I would never deny I need all this I can get.”
“Tonight you concentrate on getting well.” Darcy
ran his hand down Elizabeth’s back and over her hips. “We do not
need to resolve everything in one night. I want this to be a
beginning for us.” Darcy lifted her chin and brushed his lips over
hers.“May we try, Elizabeth?”
“Fitzwilliam, your medicine is a powerful
force of which I can never get enough,” Elizabeth teased. She
traced his mouth with her fingertips.“I will do anything for more
of this—more of you in my life.”
Darcy kissed her tenderly and then pulled
Elizabeth’s head once again to his chest.“Rest, my Lizzy,” he
laughed lightly.
She laughed, too. “You should know better than to
call me Lizzy.”
“I forgot.” Darcy feigned innocence.
She warned him in a mocking manner, “Do not pretend
memory loss with me, Mr. Darcy.”
“Never, Mrs. Darcy,” he chuckled. “Rest, be well
for us. If you can, get some sleep. I will be here next to
you.”With that, he pulled her to him once more, and Elizabeth
allowed herself to be lulled into a state of complete
happiness.