Page 28 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
“I do remember her,” Elizabeth whispered with a trembling voice.
“I remember her very well. Jane and I believed we had never seen such a beautiful lady. I remember her soft voice, her gentle smile… How could I have ever thought that I forgot her? And I remember the girl with the blue eyes too.” She then turned around, watching them with tearful eyes, her lips slightly trembling. “I remember you, Ge orgiana.”
Georgiana glanced at her brother, then her blue eyes danced with tears, and she stretched her hands towards Elizabeth, who took them briefly then gently embraced the girl. Darcy watched them, not daring to interfere. Yes, fate had a strange way of playing with their minds and souls.
After a time, Elizabeth and Georgiana broke their embrace, sharing embarrassed smiles.
Elizabeth dared to glance at Darcy, wondering what he would say of her presumption, but she could read nothing in his countenance.
Georgiana suddenly remembered that Mrs Annesley awaited her, so she left them with the promise of meeting at dinner in a few minutes.
Elizabeth and Darcy looked at each other in silence before Lady Anne’s portrait.
“Forgive me. I do not know what came over me. I could not control my emotion. That has never happened to me before. I hope I did not disturb Miss Darcy.”
He moved a step closer and gently took her hands in his.
She did not oppose him but waited quietly.
Without a word, he gently lifted her hands to his chest. She did not dare move as the touch of his fingers strangely burned her bare skin, imparting a sensation she had never felt before.
Holding her eyes and searching for a sign of opposition, he bowed his head and gently touched the backs of her hands with his lips.
She shivered, but she did not withdraw her hands.
He gently brushed her fingers with his then smiled.
“Welcome to the family, Mrs Darcy. Now let us dine. I believe we are expected.”
***
Dinner was a warm family gathering: Mr Darcy smiled more than ever before, Miss Darcy tried to overcome her shyness, and Mrs Annesley possessed perfect manners and a gift for conversation.
Elizabeth felt almost her usual self, barely able to believe the kindness of her new family.
She briefly remembered how ill Mr Wickham spoke of Miss Darcy, and she grew angry with him for his ungenerous description.
Surely, no one could believe Miss Darcy to be proud and cold.
The dinner smoothly came to an end, and they retired early.
Darcy escorted Elizabeth upstairs, neither of them looking at the other.
She wondered what would happen next as they had not spoken about this moment of their marriage since the day of his proposal.
What would he do? What did he expect of her?
She did not dare to ask herself what she wished him to do next, so she waited in silence.
Darcy opened the door to their apartments and entered her bedchamber.
“Dinner was lovely—thank you,” she said.
“I am glad you enjoyed it. Molly prepared your bath, and she will help you to get ready for the night. I shall come to see you later if that is convenient.”
She stood still, staring at him, not knowing how to reply. She shivered when his fingers removed a lock of hair from her forehead. What will he do next?
“Elizabeth…” His low, warm voice rushed at her heart as he took her hands in his and spoke further. “I have not forgotten what I promised you, nor shall I break my word. I could not wish for a better first day of our marriage, and I only hope your feelings are the same.”
“Yes, they are… And I heartily thank you for your kind consideration, Mr—William. I know it is your right to…that it is my duty to…”
He smiled again and kissed her hand once more. “As I said, you should enjoy your bath and prepare for the night. I shall come to say goodnight later but only for a moment.”
He left through the adjoining door, and she glanced after him then startled when she heard Molly’s voice.
The maid informed her that Lucky had been fed and her bath was ready.
Elizabeth was content to enter the tub and wrap herself in the soft care of the hot water, her eyes closed, left only to herself and her thoughts.
Darcy’s last words, reassuring her that he intended to give her time to accustom herself to her new position, had been the only thing missing for that day to be perfect.
She could not imagine a more considerate, generous, and kind man than her husband proved to be this first day of their marriage.
With every new moment in his company and every opportunity of knowing him and understanding him better, she realised how little she had known him before and how unfair had been her judgment of his character.
He surely was not an easy man to live with, and he was still a puzzle to her.
She could not forget his strange changes of disposition during their journey or the moments he looked at her with an expression she could not read—just as she could not forget his severe, haughty manners when they first met in Hertfordshire.
All these were parts of Mr Darcy—her husband—a man who had described himself as being resentful and having enough faults, and a man who wished to share his life with her and even insisted on doing so.
Her body became heavier as her mind and her heart grew lighter.
She recollected the emotional moment as she recognised Lady Anne Darcy in the portrait, still wondering about the force of her reaction.
Surely, she was too tired, missed her family too much, and was too worried about her future.
But he was so kind, so gentle. She shivered again, remembering the touch of his fingers on her skin, the softness of his lips on her hand…
“Mrs Darcy, are you well? Forgive me—I want to help you out as the water is almost cold.”
Molly’s voice and worried look brought Elizabeth back from her thoughts, and she smiled at the maid. Only then did she feel the coolness of the water and hurry out.
A few minutes later, she was dressed in her nightgown and robe. She thanked Molly, dismissed her for the night, and was greatly amused when she heard the maid’s sigh of relief. The poor girl was truly nervous. She needed to talk to her tomorrow to calm her.
Her own nerves were tried when a knock on the door startled her.
She invited Darcy to come in and remained motionless in surprise when he entered wearing only a robe and nightshirt.
The first thing she noticed was his bare neck.
She gulped several times then managed to look up at him.
He seemed as surprised as she was, staring at her in silence, and she suddenly worried whether her hair, left loose on her shoulders, looked all right.
“I just came to ask if all is well and to wish you good night.”
“Yes, everything is fine, thank you.”
“Good—good… Is there… Is there anything you wish to do tomorrow? Oh, but we can better talk about that tomorrow. I imagine you must be very tired.”
“No, I am not. In fact, I believe I am tired, as I confess I hardly slept more than a few hours during these last nights since… I hope I sleep better tonight.”
“Yes, I hope that too. Well then—good night.” He took a few steps then turned hesitantly.
“Would you like to have a glass of wine with me? I mean, if you do not…”
“Yes, I would like that very much,” she heard herself answering, and he immediately disappeared into his room and returned with two bottles of wine and two glasses.
He arranged them on a small table near the window and invited her to sit in an armchair.
It was snowing again, and the streets were empty, covered with a brightly shining carpet.
With surprise, she watched him take a small blanket and cover her with it. She did not even attempt to object.
“Two bottles of wine? You really believe one is not enough?” She laughed to hide her nervousness.
He laughed back in obvious good spirits.
“I believe this wine will be more to your liking. Lady Matlock—my aunt—and Lady Maryanne, Thomas’s wife, are very fond of it.”
He poured her glass half full and toasted her. Then she moistened her lips in it, took a sip, and sighed. “Oh, this is very good indeed. I rarely drink wine, but this tastes wonderful.”
“I am glad you enjoy it. A little wine will help you sleep better.”
“I hope so. Oh, how beautifully it is snowing. I love when it is snowing. Winter is so beautiful at Longbourn.”
“I like snow too, but I would rather be home to enjoy it in peace. I am glad we arrived here in time. This weather can be dangerous on a long journey. That is why we do not go to Pemberley for Christmas unless we have decided to stay there at least three months. Pemberley is beautiful in winter, too.”
“Yes, my aunt told me that. May I please have a little more wine?” He was surprised to see that she had already emptied her glass. He filled it again and smiled.
“I am pleased you enjoy it, but you should be careful. Its taste is pleasant, but its effect is strong.”
“Oh, do not worry. I shall be fine. When will we go to Pemberley?”
“I am not certain. If for me alone, I would leave as soon as possible, but I imagine you will enjoy staying in Town for the season—and my aunt Matlock has planned some balls and dinners for us to attend in order to introduce you to London society, she says. She will better explain that to you directly.”
“I imagine many people will hate me. Do Caroline and Louisa know about the wedding?”
“They surely found out today as the announcement appeared in the newspaper.”
“Is the house secure, do you think? It is good that Lucky is sleeping with me for protection.”
He laughed heartily. “I am here to protect you too. But I hope you have no reason to fear.”
“Oh, I would not count on that. And I would like a little more wine. This armchair is so comfortable, and the blanket is so soft. Look how lovely it is snowing. I will only stay up a moment longer…” Her voice became weaker, and she dr opped her head as her eyelids drifted closed.
He smiled, and his heart melted as he saw her so young, so fragile, curled in the armchair, covered in the blanket, and falling asleep.
The fatigue and the two quick glasses of wine had overcome her completely.
He gently took her in his arms and placed her in the bed then covered her with a blanket.
She sighed and sought a better position.
He again wrapped the blanket around her then tried to rise from the bed and leave.
She suddenly opened her eyes and took his hand.
Her eyes were sparkling from the wine, and she could barely keep them open.
“You are a good man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. You are not as frightening as I believed you to be.”
“You believed me to be frightening?” He was half amused and half embarrassed at taking advantage of her situation and attempted to leave, but her hold on his hand prevented it.
“Yes! Well, to be honest, the first time I saw you, I believed you were very handsome. That is—before you started to speak and offended everyone around you. And you refused to dance with me…”
“Will you ever forgive me?” he asked in jest, a large smile on his face, but she answered very seriously.
“I am sure I will, eventually. You are even more handsome when you smile. You should smile more.”
“Very well, your wish is my command. Now, we should go to sleep. You are very tired.”
“Oh, I am not tired at all…” She barely spoke, her eyes closed.
“Yes, I know you are not tired, but it is almost dawn.”
“I am a little warm. I need to take my robe off.” She rose to sit.
“Here, let me help you.” He gently opened her robe and removed it from her shoulders. Then he laid her against the pillows.
“Thank you,” she whispered. “You know, Mr Darcy, we are actually spending the wedding night together, are we not?” She was barely coherent, and finally released his hand.
“Yes, we actually are.” He smiled. “Good night, Elizabeth.”
“Good night, Mr Darcy…William,” she managed to reply in a low voice. Then her breathing became regular as sleep took her completely.
Darcy remained still, watching her closely.
Her face was serene, her eyes resting behind long, dark lashes, her lips slightly parted as she breathed steadily.
Her beauty was astonishing and nearly stole his breath away.
Her hair was spread out on the white skin of her shoulders, and the smooth fabric of her nightdress was moving with every breath, gently caressing her skin.
She gently sighed in her sleep, smiling at a dream known only to her.
He removed a lock of hair from her temple. She sighed.
What was it about this young woman that bewitched him so completely?
What was so different about her that his control was so easily lost?
How was it possible that he needed to struggle so to keep his own promise to her—that he was so tempted and eager to taste the softness of her lips?
How would he be able to keep his own promise, and for how long?
And what was fate doing to him? Why was it playing with his mind?
How was it possible that, of all the girls in the world, she was the one who needed to be saved by him—twice?
He gently touched her hair again, smiling. He had no doubt that she was the young girl he had saved from the sea ten years earlier—strange, frightening, extraordinary coincidence but real nevertheless. He had been in Brighton with Robert, visiting his mother, whose state of health was failing.
He vividly remembered the day Dr. Taylor told him her health was declining with every passing day and there was nothing he could do.
He ran out to walk on the beach, alone with his fear of losing his beloved mother, when he saw the little girl and the puppy taken by the waves.
He had entered the water without hesitation and taken the girl and the puppy to shore.
He did not remember the girl’s features.
He barely remembered looking at her face at all.
But he did remember her brave, small voice, thanking him—not for saving her but her puppy.
And he clearly remembered telling her that her puppy was truly lucky.
That the little girl proved to be Elizabeth and that she remembered the situation so clearly were equally amazing and disconcerting. Yes, fate was laughing at him.
He leant and gently caressed her hair again, watching her beautiful, serene face. “I am your hero from ten years ago, Elizabeth. But I cannot possibly tell you that—not now. I cannot use the past to make you accept me, but I shall be your hero again one day!”