“No, I would imagine not.” Elizabeth grinned and rose, straightening her gown and checking her appearance in a mirror upon the wall while Darcy made himself presentable. When he had done, he refastened the buttons on her gown, and she ran her hands through his hair, coaxing his curls back into place. “There,” she declared. “Now you look every inch the handsome gentleman once again.”
Darcy frowned and made to run his hand through his hair to dispel some of the agitation he felt at her words. Elizabeth stopped him before he could cause any damage and gave him a questioning look. “You must think me an insecure beast to take advantage of you in such a way,” he muttered.
Elizabeth caught his face between her gloved hands and forced his eyes to meet hers. “No,” she said in a gentle voice. “I think only that my husband, whom I love more than any other on this earth, must love me to distraction. Believe it or not, Fitzwilliam, though your jealousy is not something I can condone, it is something I can,
Darcy gathered her in his arms, his hand caressing her stomach. “Of course, Mrs. Darcy,” he said with a small, pleased smile. “Let us find something with which to tempt you both. You must keep up your strength. I would not have you starve on my account.”
Elizabeth smiled and smoothed a curl from his forehead. “I know not of our child, Fitzwilliam, but I do believe I have quite enough to tempt me right here. I doubt I would ever starve with you to care for me.” She sighed. “I do love you so, my dearest. Never question it.”
Darcy swallowed and ran his fingers over the softness of her cheek, his voice hardly more than a whisper. “For as long as I live, Elizabeth, I never shall.”
The rest of the evening passed without incident. Other than an appraising look, a pointed cough, and a raised brow from Lord Matlock when Darcy and Elizabeth finally made an appearance at supper, their cheeks flushed and their skin glowing, no mention was made of their absence. It was generally noted, however, that Darcy’s sour demeanor seemed to have improved significantly. Rather than scowling at the many remaining gentlemen who were fortunate enough to partner his wife for the second half of the night, he focused his undivided attention upon her alone, his mouth turned up in the barest hint of a private smile whenever their eyes met as she went down the dance.
Elizabeth made sure their eyes met often.
Between sets, Lady Matlock took Elizabeth around to all of the notable dowagers and other esteemed guests in attendance. When questioned, Elizabeth spoke easily of her family and of her father’s estate in Hertfordshire, of her interest in books, philosophy, and music, and, to those who had the audacity to inquire, of her fondness for her husband. She happened to be speaking with Lady Sowersby and Lady Malcolm, both of whom had fast become her avid champions, when Jane and Bingley joined them and, shortly thereafter, the Gardiners. It was not long before their group was engaged in a lively discourse, to the very great satisfaction of Lady Matlock. It was obvious the two dowagers were equally as impressed by Jane as they had been by Elizabeth, and pleased, as well, by the intelligence and elegant manners of their Cheapside relations.
Through it all, Darcy stood beside Elizabeth with his hands clasped behind his back. He was itching to reach out and caress her, to feel the curve of her waist through the buttery yellow silk of her gown. He did not dare attempt it, not after the pointed look his uncle had given him at supper. Instead, he put forth a valiant effort and focused his attention upon the conversation at hand. He could not help but smile at his wife’s keen wit and easy manners while in the company of two such exalted persons as Lady Malcolm and Lady Sowersby. Darcy was extremely pleased to see Lady Malcolm, who was well known throughout the first circles for her biting sarcasm and discerning intellect, delighted to have found in the new Mrs. Darcy an equally discerning and witty companion.
His smile increased when the first strains of a waltz floated through the room, and as the conversation between the ladies did not wane, Darcy cleared his throat. “Pardon my interruption, but I do believe, Mrs. Darcy, you have promised this particular dance to me,” he said as he fought to conceal the grin that was threatening to overspread his features.
Lady Sowersby smiled indulgently. Lady Malcolm, however, gave him a wry look and said, “Upon my word, Fitzwilliam, I have never before seen you thus. This newfound eagerness for the dance is extraordinary, or perhaps it is your eagerness for the company of your pretty young wife that makes you so willing to partake of an act that has never before afforded you much pleasure?”
To Elizabeth’s delight, Darcy blushed as he answered, “What you say is quite true, your ladyship. I believe I had only to find the perfect partner to transform the act from an odious chore to an unrivalled pleasure.” Then, with a sly glance at Elizabeth and a rakish grin, he added, “Now, if you will be so kind as to excuse us, I have long desired to dance while holding my wife in my arms, and I am loath to pass up the opportunity to do so now.” Elizabeth colored and then laughed, her pleasure in her husband’s affection apparent to all.
Bingley, who had been standing beside his friend, coughed behind his hand. Then, upon seeing Darcy leading his wife to the center of the room, he offered his own arm to his beloved Jane. She accepted with a smile and a blush that became her. They were then joined by the Gardiners, Lord and Lady Matlock, and many other daring couples whose mornings had lately been employed in learning the art of the scandalous waltz for just such an occasion.
As Darcy guided his wife around the ballroom, one hand clasping hers while the other held fast to her waist, Elizabeth could not recall a time when she had ever enjoyed dancing more. She and Jane had practiced all week with their willing partners, and now, as Elizabeth admired her sister’s beauty as Bingley led her through the dance, a look of absolute bliss upon both their faces, the mistress of Pemberley could hardly contain her smile.
Her gaze then drifted to her own partner, whose eyes were alight with happiness. Never before had she seen him looking so pleased, so relaxed while in company—especially in a ballroom. In fact, as Darcy gazed upon her with a look of delight, Elizabeth wondered if he had quite forgotten they were being observed. He held her a little tighter and pulled her a bit closer than propriety would have allowed—even during such a dance—and Elizabeth gave him an arch smile, knowing full well it was because he found her irresistible. “If you hold me any closer, Mr. Darcy, I do believe there shall be a scandal!” she teased.
Darcy loosened his hold, but only slightly. “Forgive me, Mrs. Darcy,” he said, a sheepish smile quirking the corners of his mouth, “but I find I am still feeling a bit possessive. Indeed, madam, you can have no idea how intoxicating you look at this moment, or how many other men are admiring you as I hold you in my arms.”
Elizabeth’s voice softened as she continued to smile upon him. “You are correct, Fitzwilliam, for my eyes are only for you, my handsome husband, and, as I am certain you have noticed, there are just as many sets of fine eyes fixed upon your stately figure.”
“Perhaps, but my admiration is for you alone, Elizabeth.” His eyes darkened, and he leaned in closer. “Do you think it is too early to make our excuses to my aunt and uncle?”
“Fitzwilliam, you are incorrigible,” she laughed, suspecting he was half serious and half in jest. “You know very well we cannot. Besides, I have not yet had my dance with your cousin Harold.”
“Hang Harold,” Darcy growled. “I am tired of sharing you. How will I be able to stand the sight of you with another man after having danced a waltz with you? Besides, my thoughts at this moment are hardly conducive to gentlemanly behavior.”
Elizabeth wisely made no reply, but when the dance ended and all the couples applauded, she allowed Darcy to lead her away to one of the balconies. The crisp air was refreshing, and as they were quite alone, Darcy took the opportunity to steal a kiss. “Are you certain I cannot convince you to retire for the night, Elizabeth?” he asked in a low voice as his fingertips lingered along the edging at her neckline.
Elizabeth slapped his hand away and smiled. “No. I am by no means tired. You forget, sir, that you made me take a nap this afternoon.”
“Yes,” he said, “and I daresay you are in need of another.” He began to drag the tip of his nose along the curve of her neck. Elizabeth closed her eyes and reveled in the sensations that coursed through her. Darcy boldly continued on, his lips moving to caress the swell of flesh just above her neckline. He dipped the tip of his tongue between her breasts, which elicited a gasp of pleasure from her.
In an effort to steady herself, Elizabeth moved her hands to Darcy’s shoulders. “Fitzwilliam,” she protested, “we cannot. Not here. Someone might see. We must stop,” she insisted, though somewhat weakly.
