and talking softly as the summer sun set and the light faded.
Elizabeth woke up to the sound of music. She rolled over to a sight that would stay with her for the rest of her life: Darcy, sitting naked in a chair, his guitar in his lap as he softly played. She watched the concentration on his face and knew he didn’t see her. A few more moments of observation told her why; he was composing. She could tell from the tune that he was playing. It was clearly lacking a melody line. Once she even caught him humming, but his voice was too soft for her to make it out clearly.
He stopped to write something on the table next to him and that’s when he saw her. She smiled warmly at him.
“You’re not supposed to be hearing this.”
“Why not?”
“Because,” he said as he rose to his feet, “it’s not finished yet.” He walked to the bed and sat beside her, his hand gently tracing the curve of her cheek and down to her throat, and between her breasts, which were shamelessly uncovered.
“Will I get to hear it when it’s done?” she asked, her large eyes caressing him.
“Oh yes,” he assured her, as he leaned down and kissed her.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his neck in a slow and lazy fashion; being near Darcy made her feel sexy and seductive. “I think I deserve something for waking up alone, don’t you?” she asked teasingly.
Darcy smiled and lifted an eyebrow. “If you wish.” He settled himself on the bed and raised the neck of the guitar. Elizabeth watched, fascinated, as he played for her. His fingers coaxed a high vibrato out of the guitar while he plucked a simple melody out of the lower register.
She lay back on the pillows, watching all of him: the profile of his face, his hands, his arms and shoulders, his legs. She was struck again by his beauty and by the intimacy of the moment. There was no one else. This was only for her.
The message of the music was different this time as well. In the past, he had played to win her, to prove himself. This time it was more about sharing, an expression of how he was feeling: the contentment, the joy, the awe. Elizabeth shared every one of those emotions.
When he finished, she reached for him and expressed with her body all that she felt for him.
The drive back to the Village felt like a triumph for them. They had both traveled to Massachusetts in a state of depression, and there, to their utter surprise, they found bliss. They spent the drive talking easily about the tiny details of their past, sharing the events of their lives, and coming to know each other better.
Elizabeth was astonished, when they reached the building on Broome Street, to learn the first floor was actually a garage. Darcy unlocked the large door with a key and brought them in, parking his car in one of the two spaces labeled “seven.”
“That space is for you,” he said, indicating the empty space beside it.
Elizabeth nodded and took inventory of the other cars there. A healthy mixture of Mercedes, BMWs, and Saabs greeted her, along with Darcy’s limo resting along one wall. She tried to picture her beat-up truck here and frowned. The warm feeling of easy comfort that had filled her in the car ebbed away, and instead she felt intimidated and out of place.
“What?” he asked, looking at her with concern.
Elizabeth laughed in embarrassment. “I’m not sure my truck is ready for this kind of company.”
Darcy stopped and looked at her. Her troubles had become his, as he saw at once the enormous change he was asking her to make. He took her hand and asked, “Would it help if I bought you a new truck?”
Elizabeth laughed with genuine affection and she stepped into his arms. “No, I can buy my own truck now. This success takes a little while to get used to.”
“Take your time,” Darcy told her. “There is no rush. I’ll give you whatever you need.”
Elizabeth knew he was speaking of support and patience, not material goods, and she kissed him slowly, her lips lingering on his. “Thank you.”
Together they passed through the door and into the lobby. The doorman greeted them, recognizing Elizabeth, and commented that she had found Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth acknowledged that she had, and with a happy smile they entered the elevator, Darcy holding Elizabeth’s bags while Elizabeth carried her guitars.
Entering the loft again, Elizabeth expected to feel pain or regret over the way she had left or a fluttering of her pulse, remembering their first time together, but strangely, she felt peaceful and at ease.
Darcy led her into the bedroom and placed her bags by the closet. Neither one of them was ready to discuss her moving in. It was a certainty, but at the same time, it was too soon. They had each privately made the decision not to deal with it until after the tour.
Elizabeth stood as if uncertain with her guitars in the middle of the room. Darcy looked at her and with a quiet “oh,” he took her to the library at the far end of the large living room, where his own instruments were stored.
Once her babies were safe and away, Elizabeth eased herself into Darcy’s arms. She rubbed his back with her hand, trying to reassure herself with his body, his scent. She felt Darcy doing the same, and that knowledge, that she was not alone in her uneasiness, helped her tension to fall away. Darcy drew his hands up and cupped her face, kissing her lovingly.
She saw in his eyes the quiet power that was inside of him, telling her with complete certainty that it would be all right, and she put her trust in him.
The sound of the elevator roused them from their silent repose on the couch. Elizabeth stood with Darcy, seeing the increased tension on his features. She moved forward, determined to try to ease his way.
She met Jane in the gallery and hugged her tightly. It was difficult to believe it had only been a week since she had seen her last. Jane looked tan, her hair even whiter, but more than that, she looked happy. Elizabeth hoped her own happiness was as evident.
As if by plan, Elizabeth moved to hug Charles, and Jane embraced Darcy. The women both remarked how good it was to see them and how much they had missed them. Then they moved aside, allowing Darcy and Charles to meet.
The two men acknowledged each other warily. “Would you like to sit?” Darcy asked, opening up the conversation.
“Yeah,” Charles nodded.
The party moved down the long hall to the dining area, the sisters having a hushed conversation about the loft while the men kept silent. Darcy served his guests drinks and once everyone was seated, he began his apology.
“Charles, I’m very sorry for what happened. I should have never interfered with your relationship with Jane, and I can’t tell you how much I regret that stunt we played at the VMAs. I have no excuse, and I hope you can forgive me.”
Charles looked at Jane for a moment before turning a regretful face to Darcy. “Will, it’s okay. I was screwing up with Jane at the VMAs and I knew it, and I just took my anger out on you instead of placing it on myself where it belonged. I’m sorry for that.”
Darcy’s expression lifted. “I’m really happy that you have worked things out. Lizzy told me you went home?”
Charles and Jane flashed matching grins and joined hands. “Yeah, I introduced her to Dad.”
“Lizzy, you should see the house; it’s so beautiful, right on the ocean,” Jane added.
Elizabeth smiled brightly.
“It’s clear that you two have come to an understanding as well,” Charles observed. “Jane said you met up at Tanglewood?”
Darcy found himself holding Elizabeth’s hand as he nodded. “We were lucky,” he said, looking at Elizabeth.
“But I think we would have gotten together even if we had to wait another week,” Elizabeth added, her eyes on her lover.
