Georgiana squeezed his hands tightly in her own, positively beaming. “Oh, Fitzwilliam, if you are finally to know such happiness, then nothing could please me more than to receive such a sister.”
Darcy could not have asked for a better response. “I daresay you will be gaining
“Oh, how wonderful! I do hope they will both grow to love me, as well.”
Darcy kissed her forehead. “I daresay they will.”
In the next instant, a wry smile could be seen crossing Georgiana’s pretty face, and it was with no small degree of slyness that she said, “Fitzwilliam, do you not find it diverting that after all this time Caroline Bingley will finally be able to call herself my sister?”
Darcy could not help but laugh at her wit. “Yes, it is excessively diverting, is it not? But I hardly think
“No!” she said and laughed. “I should say not! Poor Miss Bingley!”
The arrival of the Bennets was everything Darcy had feared it would be. Mrs. Bennet’s effusive approbation for all the splendor and wealth before her could not be ignored as her voice rang shrilly throughout the many halls and corridors of Darcy House, seemingly without pause. Her boisterous enthusiasm, coupled with that of Kitty and Lydia, was, in turn, followed with the dignified dry humor of Mr. Bennet as he calmly exchanged pleasantries with his future son-in-law over the impossible din of his wife and two youngest daughters.
Though Georgiana was certainly shocked by such an outward display of energetic behavior—particularly from people whom she had only just met and was determined to think well of—she observed that Mr. Bennet appeared serenely unaffected by the actions of his wife and youngest daughters, treating it simply as though it were a perfectly natural occurrence. She noticed the same could not be said for her brother, however, who seemed to be struggling in order to maintain a calm demeanor. Elizabeth and Jane, she also observed, appeared to be equally mortified, and out of concern for the deepening distress of her two prospective sisters, Georgiana soon recovered herself enough to don a nervous smile, enacting the daunting role of hostess.
The sheer pleasure Darcy experienced upon being reunited with Elizabeth was evident to all who took the trouble of observing them together, mainly, those who loved them best—Jane, Georgiana, and Mr. Bennet. Elizabeth’s happiness was by no means less than that of her future husband, and given Elizabeth’s embarrassing lack of interest in nearly every aspect of her future home—with the noted exception of her betrothed—Georgiana was soon reassured beyond measure that theirs was most assuredly a love match.
By the time they had finished an ample lunch of cold meats and other savory fare, followed by cake, as well as various fruits of the season, Georgiana had become equally enamored of her future sister, and Elizabeth just as delighted with Miss Darcy. They passed the afternoon agreeably with a tour of the house, ending in the music room, where Darcy and Georgiana entreated Elizabeth to play for them on the pianoforte. Though she lacked the practiced proficiency and polish that can come only with constant dedication, such as Georgiana’s, she played with a natural talent and much obvious enjoyment. When she finished her song, Elizabeth found her performance met with great enthusiasm by Miss Darcy, who remarked upon the delight she had received from the sensitivity and feeling Elizabeth expressed so effortlessly.
Later, after the tea things had been cleared away, Mrs. Bennet, Jane, and Mary retired to their rooms so they might rest themselves before dinner, while Kitty and Lydia disappeared to their own chambers, clutching the latest issue of
Finally free of the incessant chatter that had accompanied him since his departure from Hertfordshire that morning, Mr. Bennet was entirely content to install himself in Darcy’s library, the quietude of a good book and a glass of port being the only companions he desired.
Elizabeth and Georgiana spent the rest of the afternoon in companionable conversation. Darcy sat as near to Elizabeth as he could without violating propriety, but doing so in any case by brushing her thigh with his hand as he smiled at the sisterly bond that was already beginning to form between the two most important women in his life.
After he had seen his guests settled for the night in their respective chambers, Darcy, knowing sleep would not come easily, retired to his study. He found himself missing Elizabeth’s physical presence so much he had begun to feel it as a dull, almost insistent ache. He very much wanted to go to her but was in a quandary over how she might wish for him to act in such a situation—her parents and all her sisters, not to mention his own sister, being under the same roof. He sighed and silently cursed the fact she was installed within such a close proximity to her family in the guest wing. If he had been less of a gentleman, he realized, then perhaps he could have summoned the necessary audacity to have ordered a servant to
It was with these particular thoughts that Darcy’s mind was so agreeably engaged when he was joined, quite unexpectedly, by the lady in question.
“Fitzwilliam, why have you not yet retired, my love?”
Though she was still dressed in the gown she had worn at dinner, after sweeping his gaze over her form, Darcy noticed Elizabeth had removed her slippers and stockings. He found it strangely erotic to see Elizabeth’s bare toes peeking from beneath the hem of her gown, burrowing into the thick carpet pile in his study. He swallowed hard and moistened his lips with his tongue, his mouth suddenly parched as he began to feel the familiar stirrings of arousal. At that moment, he could not decide whether he was more pleased by Elizabeth’s appearing before him in such a state or worried someone might interrupt them should he choose to act upon the thoughts that seemed to come unbidden to his mind. He glanced at the clock upon the mantle and noted it was, indeed, very late—late enough for the entire house now to be abed.
Elizabeth slowly advanced, coming to stand just inches from him, her dark eyes sparkling with wit and intelligence… and more than a hint of passion. Darcy, breathing in her faint lavender scent, raised his hands to caress the curve of her neck and the skin of her shoulders.
Elizabeth closed her eyes, entreating him to lead her to a place where all else would soon fade into oblivion, where nothing mattered but their love.
Without uttering a word, Darcy brushed his lips against hers. He repeated the gesture, gradually deepening his kisses as she swayed before him. His hands continued to travel along the lines of her shoulders before wandering lower, down her arms to her hands, where he entwined his fingers with hers, wrapped his arms around her waist, and drew her body against his as they continued to kiss in a sweet, unhurried fashion.
When at last they stopped, they simply held each other. Darcy stroked her back with deliberate slowness, while Elizabeth caressed his hips beneath his tailcoat. Not wanting to start something he knew they could not likely continue, Darcy released her to move toward his desk. “I have something for you,” he said in a low voice. “I had hoped to present it to you this afternoon, but I did not have the pleasure of a moment alone with you.” He removed a small box from a locked drawer and handed it to Elizabeth.
Elizabeth smiled at him, touched that he would think to get her a gift, and removed the lid. Her breath caught as she beheld a beautiful ring set with a single, creamy pearl. It was large in diameter but by no means ostentatious, surrounded by many shimmering diamonds, which, though considerably smaller in comparison to the pearl, were exquisite all the same. “Fitzwilliam, it is truly lovely. Never in my life have I owned anything so beautiful.”
Darcy simply gazed at her, the love he felt for her clearly written on his face. “Nor have I.”
Elizabeth blushed, knowing full well he was not referring to the ring. “Thank you,” she said, “for this exquisite ring, as well as your generous compliment. I do not think I deserve either, but I believe I am not in a position to argue with the master of Pemberley. As your sister kindly informed me this afternoon, sir, it appears you are never wrong.”
Darcy took the ring from her and slipped it onto her finger. “No,” he said as he raised her hand to his lips, “at
