Darcy kept the library door ajar, naturally, but guided Elizabeth to a far corner. He took her in his arms, kissed her waiting lips with restrained ardor and taking the time to rain several kisses along her neck. All too soon, though, he released her and sat her on a sofa, sitting close beside and taking her hands in his.
He peered into her eyes with an intensity she had come to recognize, and said, “Very well, Elizabeth. Tell me what is troubling you.”
She was momentarily struck dumb and then stammered, “What do you mean?”
“Do not play coy with me, beloved. I can feel when something is amiss in your heart. You have not been quite your lively self. Several opportunities to laugh at and tease me mercilessly passed you right by! That would never occur if all was well.” He tenderly stroked her cheek. “Please enlighten me to your distress. Allow me to comfort you.” He spoke softly and with tremendous love.
She knew this was the opportunity she had been waiting for, yet found herself unsure how to proceed. He waited patiently while she struggled within, never once letting go of her hands or ceasing his gentle caress or removing his eyes from her face.
“You are correct, William; I am troubled. We need to speak of a delicate subject. Or rather I need to speak of it. You must bear with me for this is exceedingly uncomfortable.” She tentatively met his eyes and saw only devotion there. She took a deep breath and launched into her tale. “You must promise me, William, that you will not interrupt. This is quite difficult for me and I cannot lose my nerve or train of thought. Do you promise?”
For the first time Darcy was beginning to feel alarm. He had imagined some wedding issue that she was concerned about, but now he perceived it was more serious. Still, his trust in her was absolute so he promised without hesitation.
She began by haltingly describing her anxieties about their wedding night, her maidenly qualms of the unknown as well as her fears of disappointing him. He relaxed as she spoke. He understood her completely on this subject because he harbored the same emotions, but he was utterly confident that their love would triumph beautifully. She told him about her conversation with Mrs. Gardiner, and he had to smile. He greatly respected Lizzy’s aunt; he found her a delightful woman of superior common sense.
Lizzy described her nightmare, which he thought rather humorous except for how she depicted his reactions and the memories of the past that were conjured up. He thought they had thoroughly discussed their horrible miscomprehensions and had agreed to pardon each other. Of course, dreams could not be controlled.
She paused momentarily, then arose from the sofa. He watched her carefully and felt his alarm again increasing. She walked several feet away, keeping her eyes averted. After a huge swallow, she resumed. She told him about Mrs. Bennet’s “advice.” He saw no humor in it at all, and his countenance darkened further with each passing word. He frowned at the very notion that he would seek to “control” his Elizabeth as her mother intimated. His eyes blazed at the implication that he would ever force himself on her against her will. By the time she repeated the “producing an heir” statement, his fists were clenched and his mouth a thin line of anger.
He was rigid on the sofa, stunned beyond coherent thought, aching for Elizabeth having to endure such torture. He was livid and intensely offended. It was fortuitous that Lizzy had turned away from him, or she never would have told him the rest. When she did, Darcy reached the end of his forbearance.
“No!” he roared and jerked up from his seat, causing Elizabeth to start violently. “This is unconscionable! How could she accuse me of such a malicious falsehood! It is not to be borne!” Darcy was beside himself with wrath. “Elizabeth, you surely do not lend any credence to this… this… filth?”
Lizzy was terrified. She had rarely witnessed Darcy so furious. “William… I…”
Something in her face brought him up short and he looked at her in horror. Suddenly bereft of the air necessary for speech, he could only gasp, “You do!”
He turned away from her, and it was her nightmare coming true. She had to think! She approached him slowly and placed her hand gently on his arm, feeling his tension. “William, you must listen to me.” She spoke very softly. “I know you are not the man my mother says you are. I know you love me and would never hurt me. Ours is a relationship and a love far superior to my parents’. I am confident in this.”
She could perceive a slight easing of his rigidity as she spoke, although he still had not looked at her. She went on, her voice breaking, “You must appreciate that there is so much I do not know about your world—or about you for that matter. You must help me to understand, William, please!”
He sighed deeply and finally relaxed, running his hand over his face. He turned to her then and took her face into his hands, wiping her tears. “Forgive me for my outburst, beloved. It was inexcusable.”
He kissed her tenderly and held her close to his chest until their trembling ceased. “You are absolutely correct, dearest. I must help you to understand. This will be painful for me, and awkward, so now it is my turn to beg your patience and ask you listen uninterrupted. Can you do this?”
“You do not even need to ask, my love. Of course I will.”
They returned to the sofa. Darcy leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and was silent for a long while. Lizzy waited patiently. Slowly he began to speak.
“My earliest childhood memories of my parents are of love.” His deep voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Love toward me and later for Georgiana, naturally. Love for their families and friends. Love for Pemberley and Derbyshire and all the many people whose lives depend on us.”
He paused briefly and sighed deeply. “Mostly, though, it is their love for each other that is etched into my mind. When I was very young I took it for granted, did not recognize it for the special emotion it was. All I knew is that they somehow were happier when they were together. Each of their faces would light up when the other entered a room. They were forever touching each other. Not inappropriately, mind you, but in little ways. Doors, which should have been open during the daylight hours, would be inexplicably locked. Sometimes in the middle of the day, they would both simply disappear to return later with a glow on their faces.”
He blushed slightly as he revealed these private events. “Naturally I did not understand any of it until much, much later. Once, when I was perhaps nine or ten, I entered the parlor to see my mother sitting on my father’s lap and they were kissing in a way I had never seen before. They did not see me and I left abruptly. I went directly to Mrs. Reynolds and told her what I had witnessed. I was not disturbed by it but simply curious. She laughed and told me it was perfectly natural and that someday I would understand.” He smiled. “Then she said, ‘In the future, Master Fitzwilliam, you would be wise to knock before entering a room,’ and I always did.”
Darcy’s smile left his face and he swallowed before continuing. “When I was almost twelve, Georgiana was born. My mother had been ill throughout her confinement and Georgiana’s birth was a difficult one. My mother almost died and, in fact, was close to death for several weeks afterward. My father was beside himself.
“I had come to rely on his temperate nature, implacable steadfastness, and seriousness. He was the type of man who could handle any crisis with wisdom and incredible patience. This is not merely a child’s hero worship, Elizabeth; everyone declared this about him. He could not handle this, though. I do not think he slept more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I saw something in his face I had never seen before: fear. Fear of losing my mother.”
Elizabeth knew she had promised not to interrupt, but she could not resist moving a bit closer and taking his hand. He squeezed her hand gratefully and met her eyes, smiling slightly.
“My mother did recover, and life, for the most part, returned to how it had been. She was weaker, more fragile than previously. My father hovered over her and, if possible, was extra attentive. Over the next years I puzzled over their relationship. I was still young but, always precocious, demanded knowledge on subjects that were often beyond my comprehension. My father encouraged this thirst for education on my part. My mother and Mrs. Reynolds endeavored, in vain, to make me laugh more, not to be so serious all the time.”
He looked at Elizabeth with a twinkle in his eyes. “At Netherfield, when you teased me about being proud and said how you dearly loved to laugh, it was as if my mother were in the room putting the words on your lips. You are very like her, Elizabeth. Your wit is perhaps more caustic and sharp, but she found humor in the smallest things, as you do.” He took a moment to caress her cheek and gave a brief kiss.
“I digress, however. As I said, I was curious. I observed the behaviors of the other married couples we knew. Some, like my uncle, Lord Matlock, and my aunt, obviously cared for and respected each other. Others, especially my Aunt Catherine and Uncle Louis, quite clearly despised each other. People marry for many reasons: security, position, lust, furtherance of the line. None of these reasons bring true happiness, as my parents possessed.
“All through my life, I have been inquisitive on this subject, and many others, truth be told. Mrs. Reynolds will delight in telling you stories, I am sure.” He smiled wryly. “Rarely have I found a marriage like my parents were blessed with. In each case it has been a wonder to behold. Even when I was far too young to comprehend it all, I
