Page 60 of Sketching Mr. Darcy

He let out a small laugh then gently caressed her hair.

His hands cupped her face, and she closed her eyes, waiting to feel the warmth of his lips.

His fingers touched her chin, and his thumb tenderly stroked her face, slowly brushing against her lips.

Her lips parted slightly, and his finally pressed over them with small, interrupted kisses that travelled to her cheek then along her jaw while his fingers played with her hair.

Barely aware, her lips moved to search his until they met and tantalised each other for a long time—more a search and discovery than a real kiss.

Her warm body leant against his as she stood on her toes.

His delight combined with joy as he felt her responsiveness and sensed her shy attempt to return his caresses.

With each moment and each heartbeat, she felt a little closer to him—a little more his.

He finally withdrew a bit, and his lips came to rest on her hair.

“I believe breakfast is ready,” he said, and she raised her eyes in surprise. She obviously did not expect the interruption.

“Yes—I shall go to see Georgiana afterwards.” She felt embarrassed, both for their closeness and for the regret she felt that it was over so soon.

As Mrs Annesley chose to have breakfast with Miss Darcy in her apartment, Elizabeth was again alone with her husband at the table.

Breakfast proceeded calmly with more glances and fewer words.

Elizabeth found herself looking pointedly at her husband’s lips and his long fingers as he enjoyed his meal.

The recollection of caresses eliminated most of her appetite while she forced to keep her eyes on her plate. What was happening to her?

Was she a silly girl, with wanton manners, to think of such outrageous things? And why was he staring at her—again? Surely, he could not possibly guess her thoughts! Or could he?

Elizabeth was rather relieved when the meal ended. Darcy returned to the library while she finally went to visit her sister-in-law, her heart a little steadier as she left his presence.

After all she discovered the previous night, Elizabeth’s affection for Georgiana was doubled by a particular care and deep concern. She promised herself to watch her carefully and to understand the nature of Georgiana’s present feelings for a certain unworthy man .

They spent an hour together. When she left, Elizabeth briefly wondered whether she should spend time with her husband or retire to her room.

She did not feel composed enough to be alone with him again, so she returned to her apartment.

She froze as she entered, then her heart raced while she stopped breathing.

On the small table, a bouquet of pink and cream roses brightened the room. She gasped in disbelief: How could there possibly be roses in the middle of winter?

She convinced herself that the flowers were quite real as she caught their fragrance. Then she spotted a note resting near the ceramic vase.

With emotion and curiosity, she took the paper and read:

Elizabeth, I thank you for a week in which I have started to understand the meaning of happiness.

FD

She read the words again and again then gently touched the roses with trembling fingers.

Their petals were silky and soft, just as the caresses she still remembered.

She took the bouquet in her arms and leant in the chair, closing her eyes for a few moments, enjoying the sense of overwhelming delight.

Then she put the flowers back on the table and left the room in a hurry.

***

Early in the morning, together with his awareness that he had not offered enough attention to his wife since they married, Darcy considered how he might show his admiration and gratitude.

He had nearly wasted the first seven days of his marriage by selfishly admiring his wife’s efforts to adapt to her new life yet not providing the attention she deserved.

He dismissed the thought of purchasing any more jewels, as she had been rather overwhelmed with what he had already given her.

The idea of a lively bouquet came to him the next instant, and he asked Stevens to locate a hothouse that could provide the flowers.

He had never before thought of offering flowers in the middle of winter.

When Stevens returned with an unexpectedly positive answer, he hurried to choose the flowers himself.

He was tempted to buy a very large, impressive bouquet, but he kept his impulse under control and selected twenty roses, pink and cream, that seemed to express liveliness, elegance, delicacy and passion—to express her .

He returned home, keeping the flowers hidden until he determined Elizabeth’s whereabouts, then went to place them in her chamber together with the note. He found himself as happy as a child and tried to imagine her joy after receiving the flowers.

Yes, the roses were lovely, but her sparkling eyes must be lovelier. He wondered what she would say and what she thought of the note, which he wrote in the blink of an eye—the first honest words that crossed his mind.

More than an hour passed before Elizabeth finally appeared. A large, bright smile rewarded him, and she stopped a few inches away, looking deeply into his eyes.

“Where did you find the flowers?” She smiled with emotion. “They are astonishing.”

“It is surprising how easily one can find anything if one is interested and willing to put a little effort into it.”

“Did you choose them yourself?” she asked, stepping a little forward.

“I did…”

There was silence for a moment, and her eyes gazed into his as both attempted to read each other’s thoughts. Finally, she leant to whisper into his ear, her lips briefly touching his skin.

“I thank you, husband. We have started to learn the meaning of happiness together.”

Then she turned and left him with a single glance.

His heart rushed as his lips became dry, and he closed his eyes to keep her fragrance. She did not even touch him, and her low voice, closeness, and intimate gesture of leaning towards him were enough to make him warm inside.

He shook his head in disbelief: Did she know how much power she had over him?

Did she know that her playfulness was more appealing to him than any seduction?

Probably not—she was only being herself.

And she was obviously pleased—even delighted with his gesture.

And was she honest? Had she started to feel happiness at his side?

Even a little would raise his hopes—and why did he doubt?

She would surely not deceive him nor conceal her true feelings.

And yes, her eyes sparkling with joy wore a trace of happiness.

How could he possibly have wasted the first days of his marriage? Such a fool he was!

***

Elizabeth turned to her room pleased, cheerful, and flustered.

He searched the Town to find flowers for me.

Did I thank him properly? Does he understand my intention?

Does he realise that I meant more than the mere words?

Does he know how much I appreciated his effort?

Such beautiful flowers in the middle of winter!

And such an overwhelming note—only a few words that make my head spin.

Elizabeth recollected everything that had happened in the last day and night.

The more she thought of the amazing events, the more she felt the need to think of them again, to balance the meaning of each word and each gesture.

It was a turning point in her marriage, and she wished to be certain that she understood it correctly.

She heard a gentle knock and invited her husband to enter. He approached and glanced at the flowers then brushed his fingers over them.

“I am glad you like them.”

“How could I not? They are beautiful—and so is the note. I have never received flowers before—from a gentleman, I mean. They are such a wonderful surprise. ”

“And I have never sent flowers to a lady before—outside my family.”

She looked at him in disbelief, doubting his words.

Yet, his slightly embarrassed expression was enough proof, and she did not inquire further.

Another long moment followed, both staring into each other’s eyes, tension building between them, neither daring to make a gesture yet hoping the other would.

Darcy fought a difficult battle between his desire to touch her, caress her, taste her half parted lips and the soft skin of her throat, which was moving with her every breath, and his fear and concern that any attempt at closeness, the smallest gesture of intimacy might appear as if he expected a reward for the flowers he offered her—and that was what he loathed more.

So he stood as steel, recognising her emotions, hoping he saw an invitation in her eyes—even a desire for more intimacy between them—and wishing for her to make the smallest gesture towards him. She did not, and neither did he.

“We should start preparing. I would like to arrive there by the second comedy. Robert specifically insisted we not be late,” he said, and she was obviously surprised.

“Oh… You are right, or course. I shall prepare myself carefully. I imagine we will be in the midst of gossip again.” She tried to sound teasing but did not completely succeed.

“I will stay by your side. Please do not worry about anything.”

“I do not…” She playfully stretched towards him then daringly placed a kiss on his cheek.

An hour later, Elizabeth glanced at her image in the mirror.

She was wearing one of the new gowns, very light green with discreet darker shades.

She looked at the boxes of jewels, wondering which would suit better.

Although she struggled to put the thought away, she wondered whether they would meet Lady Stafford again at the opera.

She noticed the entrance of her husband. She smiled, thinking that he was impatient.

“I am ready, but I cannot decide which set I should wear.”

He moved closer, his eyes travelling from her eyes down to her shoes, then up again.

“You look beautiful. Truly, you do not need any jewels, but since you must choose, I would suggest the citrine set. The stones will shine on your skin.”

She felt flustered, held his gaze for a moment, and then laughed nervously. “And here we are again: I am staring at them for half an hour and you only need a moment to decide.”

“Not really,” he replied humorously. “I could have said the same about any set. They would all look beautiful on you. Please allow me,” he said, and she had no time to reply before he moved to her back and slowly guided the necklace around her neck, locking it.

She felt her knees suddenly weakening, and she cast a quick look at their image in the mirror.

He was so close to her that she could feel his breath on her neck but also the warmth of his body.

His fingers ended the task rather quickly then brushed gently along the necklace and around her neck, slightly touching her skin.

He then handed her the box, and she put on her earrings with trembling fingers, Darcy not moving an inch from her.

Finally, he gently turned her to him, took her hand, and put the bracelet and then a kiss on her wrist. She gulped to remove the lump in her throat and said, “We should leave.”

Yet, neither of them moved for a long moment, holding gazes and tentative smiles until Stevens announced that the carriage was ready.