She blushed, recalling how distressed she had initially been by his attentions on his return to Hertfordshire. “Well, the truth is that I had no intention of allowing you much of a chance at all, but it seems that my efforts were for naught.”
“Well, then, I am grateful that you stopped fighting me long enough to begin to like me,” he said teasingly. He slipped his fingers into her hair, caressing the silky strands until he encountered hairpins, which he began to remove.
“You are incorrigible, sir!” she said.
“Because I like playing with my wife’s hair? I so rarely get the opportunity, for it seems that whenever I have access to your hair, I tend to be distracted by your other charms. It seems just the thing for a long coach ride,” he said, kissing her neck.
Enjoying the sensuous feeling of his hands exploring her hair, she said, “I should have known it was hopeless by how hard I had to fight. I had an inkling of it already on the day you introduced me to Georgiana.”
“That soon? How did you know?” he asked, continuing his collection of hairpins.
She blushed. “What worried me was the way I reacted when you kissed my hand. Other men had done the same in the past, had handed me into carriages, had danced with me…”
“That is
She smiled at him wickedly. “… but, while pleasant enough, the experience had never particularly affected me. But as soon as you touched me, it was different. Even when I was still firmly decided against you in my mind, still I was not able to forget how I felt when you kissed my hand.”
He caught her cheek and turned her face towards his, kissing her possessively, feeling all the satisfaction of her admission that she did not respond to others as she did to him. A jolt of the carriage pulled them apart, and they smiled regretfully at one another.
Elizabeth, the sensation of his kiss still fresh on her lips, could not help recalling her anger with what she had perceived as the treachery of her body when she had responded to his early advances, and it was ironic that the same reaction that caused her such distress could now bring her such pleasure. Darcy had returned to his enjoyable task of demolishing the careful arrangement of her hair, and, as it tumbled down around her shoulders, she nestled against him in contentment.
They spent a long while in this manner, Darcy playing gently with Elizabeth’s hair as she leaned against him. He could not recall feeling as peaceful in a very long time, merely from sharing her presence and knowing she loved him. It was the culmination of his dreams since he had met her, and he could still barely credit it was true, and had to fight the feeling that she could still somehow be snatched away from him. His eyes traced the line of her profile, trying to memorize the moment.
Elizabeth, reveling in the pleasure of feeling him beside her, closed her eyes to better savor the experience. It seemed impossible to believe that she had fought against this so long, and she could barely remember being the girl who had taunted Darcy at the Netherfield ball about his relations with Wickham. Now she could hardly imagine how she had lived without him, and the realization of her need raised a small spectre of fear within her. She had never allowed herself to need anyone in this way before; she had always been careful to keep her heart safe, and made sure that she could not be affected by the changes in someone else’s fancy. She had kept parts of herself secret even from Jane, but she was beginning to realize that she might find it harder, if not impossible, to do so with Darcy, that part of a love and desire as intense as his was an equally intense need and hunger for its object that might not allow for that distance. To need him so in face of this was disturbing, and unlike anything she had faced in the past.
His hand drifted from her hair to the back of her neck where his fingers began to caress her. He smiled slowly as he bent his head to claim her lips. He tasted the pleasures of her mouth as he drew from her the passion that he knew lay under the surface, passion that was now his to explore and enjoy at his leisure. In an unhurried manner he continued to tantalize her with his mouth, sliding his hand onto her back and just underneath the neckline of her gown, until he felt her surrender to her desire and cling to him in return. “I have waited so long to call you my wife, my beloved, adored Elizabeth,” he murmured, “and I shall continue to show you how much I love you every day of our lives.”
Elizabeth was discovering to her dismay how much more difficult it was to satisfy herself with his kisses when she knew what more pleasure could be had than when she had remained innocent of the possibilities. It was going to seem a very long time until they retired for the night. Darcy, thinking likewise, decided that a change in subject was much required, and said, “We must consider how to inform your family of our marriage.”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. “Perhaps we could hope that they just never notice,” she suggested lightheartedly.
“I believe that it might strike them that something is amiss when I carry you off to my bedroom each night,” he said with a smile. Realizing that he had managed to bring the conversation back once more to exactly the point that he wished to avoid, he added, “I assume we should tell them in person?”
“I would think that best. Presumably we shall have to reach Longbourn no later than my aunt and uncle; we can certainly not leave them to explain why I have failed to return with them.”
He laughed. “That would indeed put them in an uncomfortable position. Well, then, I assume we should travel to Longbourn when they leave Pemberley. We will no doubt need to remain there until Bingley’s wedding— do you think that your parents would be offended if we stayed at Netherfield instead of Longbourn?”
“Well, if they are, the reduced stress for us will no doubt outweigh the offence! We can always present the argument that Netherfield has more space, especially as the wedding approaches.”
He wound his hand in her hair again. “I am sorry that this has made matters so much more complicated,” he said.
“You are worth it,” she said with an impish smile. “I believe you may have been right, sir, when you suggested that our ability to wait longer may have been overrated.”
“Mine certainly was,” he growled in her ear before nibbling on it. “My ability to wait until we reach Pemberley is coming into further question by the minute.”
She raised an eyebrow as she blushed. “I am not of the opinion that a carriage is a pleasant or safe place for such endeavors, sir.”
“While it is tempting to try to convince you otherwise, unfortunately I suspect that you are correct, madam,” he replied.
Ten
The wedding celebration that night was quite the opposite of the solemn, quiet ceremony of the morning, and it brought home to Elizabeth full force what it would mean to be the lady of the manor. It began at sundown with dancing by torchlight to the music of fiddle and flute, followed by food on a grand scale for all the tenants— Elizabeth was astonished to see what the Pemberley kitchens could produce on such short notice, and when she saw the gathered masses, she realized for the first time just how many lives depended upon her husband’s management. She and Darcy had shared a light dinner earlier, which was fortunate, since they were quite busy throughout the feasting, Darcy distributing gifts to the poor, and Elizabeth presenting small nosegays of flowers to the children, who bobbed shy curtseys and bows in acknowledgement. The house was completely decked with flowers—she wondered if she would find the gardens stripped bare the following morning—and filled to the brim with revelers.
She found herself feeling unaccountably shy when Darcy introduced her to the crowded masses, and blushed when they cheered her heartily, which only encouraged some of the lewd comments that flew back and forth among the tenants. Darcy had warned her of this aspect—“This is still the North, my love,” he had said—and she tried to keep her composure, but to the delight of the crowd, one or two of the comments clearly embarrassed
