and deaf as it were. But twice tells me you regretted missing out on the first and waited around to have a try at her again.” Her lower lip quivered in a small pout, and her arms crossed in front of her.
“I was very young, and she was making herself extremely available. Men are different than women.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and harrumphed. All at once she looked exhausted and defeated. “That, Mr. Darcy, is one of the sorriest excuses ever used by men for their abysmal behavior. And believe me, sir, I have never found the comparison used in a good light.” She placed the hairbrush down onto her dresser. “Is there anyone else I need worry about from your wild and reckless youth?”
“No, of course not, Elizabeth. Not unless we happen to meet Elinor Prescott-Pickard at a
“Will you come back to our bed tonight?” he asked softly, and she nodded after making him wait just a few minutes longer.
“Will you forgive me for not telling you sooner?”
Again she nodded, and he could see that the storm had passed. “William?”
“Yes, Lizzy?”
Her eyes began to twinkle. “Can we get some food sent up, please? I am famished. See if Cook can make up some spinach-and-cheese puffs. And some ham. Maybe those tarts we had last week—the cherry ones. Oooh, and honey. I have a craving for honey with pickles…”
Darcy walked over and quite energetically pulled her into his arms.
“One more thing”—she looked deeply in his eyes—“I do not want to be in the same room ever again with Caroline Bingley, is that understood?” Darcy nodded in agreement. He was so relieved, he would have agreed to most anything. This was an easy promise.
“I will have to explain something to Jane. I don’t know what I would do if I ever saw that husband-stealing, wretched, common tart person again!”
Not many of life’s wishes and dreams can come true, and certainly Lizzy’s hopes to avoid Caroline were thwarted almost immediately. A short while after Lizzy’s porcelain-throwing demonstration, and much to everyone’s surprise, Lizzy’s mother passed away quietly in her sleep. She had been a relatively young woman, merely in her late forties, and so, although the poor woman had been ailing for quite some time, complaining for years, in fact, the first impression in the little town of Meryton was that the doctor must be exaggerating the seriousness of her condition, might want to examine her again. After all, she was known far and wide as a sound sleeper.
When her demise was confirmed, the second impression was that it was such a pity—she had so counted on her husband dying first.
Jane and Lizzy both agreed that their mother must be absolutely furious, wherever she was. There was a cruel injustice in this, of her being denied time to reap the rewards of having her two eldest daughters so wealthy and well situated, and then there was her youngest married to a handsome, if disreputable, commissioned officer. Three of five daughters married within a year. It was almost biblical. Why, she was a female Moses having led her two remaining unmarried daughters to the very edges of the Promised Land and then not being allowed to enter.
For his part, Mr. Bennet was certainly as put out as his wife, possibly more so, horrified at finding himself suddenly alone at the forefront of his family, a man who had paid little if any attention to their needs before. He had no idea of what to do, so he did what had worked so well for him in the past. He went into his library and remained there, never to come out, at least not until he was absolutely certain that the body had been examined by her physician and carted away, and positively not a moment before he had handed the unpleasant responsibility of funeral arrangements to his son-in-law, Darcy. A situation which seemed completely natural to all concerned.
The funeral day had the appropriate grey cast along with a slight drizzle of rain when the little group of mourners gathered around the open grave site. Mr. Bennet stood with Kitty and Mary on either side. Darcy had a protective arm around Lizzy, while Charles was doing the same with Jane. The only one of the sisters not there was Lydia, who was due to deliver her third child at any moment and could not make the journey south.
Charlotte and Mr. Collins, Charlotte’s parents, and one or two representatives of the Meryton community were also there. It was not a large group, but a group that sincerely mourned the passing of a member from their small circle.
If anyone had asked her opinion, however, Elizabeth would have suggested that there was one too many mourners for her liking at the funeral. A very uninterested Caroline Bingley was spied yawning in the background, shivering and rolling her eyes at the Reverend Collins’s heavenly words. Jane had been delivered safely of a baby girl a few weeks prior to her mother’s passing, so Caroline and her sister and brother-in-law, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, were already residing at Netherfield Hall, Charles and Jane’s leased manor house situated a few miles from Mr. and Mrs. Bennet’s home.
“We’ll return to your father’s house and have a short rest.” Darcy cupped his wife’s elbow, steering her in the direction of Longbourn and to their room after the early morning burial with its damp air. “I’ll have them get a nice warm fire going for you. We’ve plenty of time before the luncheon at Netherfield.” They were staying in her old bedroom, the one she had at one time happily shared with her older sister. It was a charming reflection of both Jane’s and Lizzy’s distinct personalities—flowery wallpaper, chair flounces and pink bows alongside books, a writing desk, walking boots and stick. The drizzle of rain had thankfully stopped, leaving behind only the clouds and gloom. Lizzy nodded to her husband, and so the couple made their excuses and returned for a nap before venturing to Jane and Charles’s home.
Relieved of her gown and ankle-length pantalets, Elizabeth scooted onto the bed and snuggled into the pillows feeling warm and cozy, her stomach finally settling down from its daily pilgrimage upward. It was such a relief knowing that she could now relax, but not so her wonderful husband. Her exhaustion, her health, her pregnancy, all were his now constant concern, often causing him sleepless nights.
As she sipped her hot chocolate, she prattled on to him about the morning service and how kind everyone had been and about the pretty flowers. However, her speech became quieter and her words stilled completely the moment he began undressing for bed. He possessed a magnificent figure, the viewing of which she never tired, and his regimented routine always fascinated her. It rarely varied.
He first loosened his neck scarf and waistcoat, then sat erectly upon a chair to remove his boots. Next he stood and unbuttoned his shirt and cuffs, careful as always to place any jewelry on the nightstand beside the bed. His waistcoat, scarf, and shirt were next removed in that order, folded and draped with the utmost care across the back of his chair. After unbuttoning his breeches, he sat at the edge of the bed and yanked them off, folded them, and laid them neatly across her old dresser.
“Oh, bravo.” She clapped, grinning impishly.
He turned and arched his eyebrow at her.
“You zany scamp—you have unhinged me with your recklessness.”
His eyebrow went somehow higher.
“You unbuttoned your pants
“Are you quite finished?” His lips twitched with humor as he lowered himself back onto the bed and let out a heartfelt sigh. “Now please be quiet. You are exhausted and need your sleep. All I ask is one uninterrupted hour, Elizabeth.”
“Did you see who was at the grave site?”
He groaned.
She was snuggling farther down into the covers while motioning toward her aching back, so he slipped his
