Page 18 of Lord Lonbourn’s Daughter

Unpleasant memories arose at his unfortunate choice of words.

He wondered whether he should tell her. He and Longbourn had agreed that the ladies need not know about the second and third demands of the extortionist’s letter but should perform the request with the ladies none the wiser.

It went against every grain in his body to conceal this from Elizabeth, to present her with the consequences post-deminoratio [2] or, in the worst-case, post-mortem…

Washed and stripped, he entered the chamber to two more gasps than he had anticipated.

Elizabeth was sitting in the middle of her bed, surrounded by her sisters.

Her maid was nowhere in sight, but she was dressed in a robe, suggesting she was ready for the night.

Lady Jane and Lady Mary blushed furiously as they scurried off the bed, curtsied with their eyes averted, and hurried out of the room.

Propriety was obviously deeply imbedded in them.

Thank heavens he had on his shirt and breeches, although his feet were bare and his shirt was unbuttoned at the neck.

Elizabeth chuckled before pronouncing, “What an efficient method of clearing a room.”

“Yes…”

He had not thought about the close proximity to Elizabeth’s sisters. His entrance had reminded him where he was, and the thought discouraged a repeat performance of last night, for which he was quite prepared physically but not mentally.

“I was assuring Jane that before her wedding day I shall inform her of the most noteworthy events to expect. Oh, do not worry, I shall not divulge any personal information, just the mechanics. I would not want her to enter the marital bed as ignorant as I.”

“Was it difficult for you? Unpleasant, not knowing what to expect?” He had to enquire despite his apprehension at her answer.

“No, not unpleasant, but I hate feeling stupid and uninformed. I do not understand why maidens are kept in the dark about such important matters when an adequate explanation would bring less uncertainty. One dreads the unknown, after all. I would much rather know, even if it is to be something unpleasant—which I do not deem our wedding night to have been. I am much relieved my fears were unfounded, but Jane must know that she does not need to feel apprehensive. The deed is perfectly natural—and necessary to procreate.”

Darcy was feeling guilty; she was too kind.

His wife was a perfectly rational being who did not faint at nearly being run over by a racing carriage, nor did she take to her bed with nervous complaints when criminals took her sisters.

She kept her family together and did what was necessary, even if it was marrying a rude and mute untitled man.

He was not good enough for her, yet he had disparaged her looks whilst believing himself to be of much import and standing in society.

He did his duty, took his responsibilities seriously, and had not gambled away his fortune.

He was an outstanding man in his own eyes, and many of the members of London’s superior society would agree with him.

His pettiness was too common to be remarked upon.

“Why so serious, Mr Darcy?” his wife enquired. “I promise not to embarrass you by revealing any of your personal attributes. As I mentioned, just the mechanics.”

“Forgive me, my thoughts were miles away. I do not mind if you inform your sister before her wedding of the aforementioned events. I trust your judgment of what to reveal and what to conceal.”

“Why, thank you, Mr Darcy.”

Elizabeth pulled off her robe and slipped under the covers, but not before he had time to notice her new nightgown.

She had donned a flimsy satin slip that left little to the imagination.

And now his wife was lying in her childhood bed, looking at him with those gorgeous green eyes.

He wished she had worn a burlap sack from head to toe, reminding him of the ghastly sight he had experienced earlier in the day.

He could not importune her with her sisters behind the adjacent wall.

Not that he would—taking her earlier discomforts into consideration.

He would be satisfied embracing her soft form and moulding it against his own.

He groaned. With his control hanging by a thread, he should not risk temptation.

Instead, he inspected the setting. Her chamber was decorated in the earthy colours she seemed to prefer, with green walls and dark furniture.

It was a pleasant room. He walked to the window and relished the draught to cool his heated skin, whilst listening to his wife move about in the bed.

Judging by her gentle sigh, he supposed she was struggling to find a comfortable position.

The square was mostly abandoned this late in the evening and offered but little to entertain him.

He could not see anyone who might be watching the house.

If the villains had a man standing on sentinel, he was a professional.

“Some practice would certainly not go amiss to become proficient enough to educate my sister.”

His wife huffed and turned her back to him, demonstrating her displeasure.

What was he supposed to do now? She had obviously not harboured the same qualms about repeating last night’s pleasures, which had occupied his thoughts for most of the day.

But now his procrastination had vexed her, and she would probably not welcome any advances.

He slipped quietly under the covers beside her, careful not to invade her side of the smallish bed.