Page 77 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
“Please never speak of gratitude again…”
“We had no time to speak last night, and you deserve to hear my answer.”
“We shall have plenty of time to talk in the next days…”
“We have plenty of time now too.” He rose and sat, facing her as she reached for his hand.
“William, I am not sure how to name my feelings for you, but I know that I have never felt the way I do when I am in your presence. It gives me joy when we spend time together. I like the small things we share as much as I like the important things with which you trust me. Despite the difficulties of our marriage, I am happy to be your wife.”
“Thank you for telling me that. It makes me very happy too…”
“Even during your stay at Netherfield, I had reactions to your closeness that I never experienced before. I shivered when we danced and you touched my hand, which I never sensed with any other man. Back then, I took it as an unpleasant reaction, a result of what I thought was your critical and disapproving stare. Your presence troubled me every time in a way I did not recognise. I was always preoccupied with guessing what you thought of me. And since we married, your nearness makes my mind and my body respond in a strange way, which worries me because I do not recognise it.”
They were facing each other, and she could see his expression softening. He gently caressed her face, and her fingers mirrored his movements, caressing his handsome features. He closed his eyes, rejoicing in her touch, then turned and placed a kiss inside her palm.
“These feelings fill my heart, and the more I am with you, the more I want to be. And, after being together ten days, I cannot imagine my life without you either.”
“My dearest Elizabeth,” he whispered, and she continued, obviously embarrassed.
“The first evening of our marriage, we drank wine and talked, and since then I have waited for you to invite me again. You kissed my hands and then my cheeks, and the trace of your lips burned me for days and made me wish for more. Your hands touched my skin when you put on my jewellery or took off my gloves, and I was certain there was nothing more pleasant. And then we shared a real kiss, and I wondered how it would be if there were more. I feel ashamed for telling you all these things, and I am frightened to imagine that you might consider me wanton, but I do not want to keep anything from you.”
“My love—I did not dare hope for such a response, and I have never been more grateful for the revelation that I was a fool for so many days. I was so concerned for your feelings that I failed to recognise them, and I was afraid to admit what I thought I recognised. I noticed that you enjoyed my company, but I believed your occasional restraint and your uneasiness were a reflection of the doubts and distrust you still have in this marriage. I was afraid to read too much, so I read too little—but I do not regret anything since that slowness has taken us to this wonderful moment. And now, I can see very clearly in your eyes everything that you just told me.”
“And perhaps, if you look closer, you could see even more. Then you would never imagine that I prefer another man’s company to yours…”
“May I hope you will forgive me for my behaviour yesterday?”
“I am not sure. I might require further apologies. I need to ponder this.”
He leant closer, his eyes holding hers until they closed.
His lips tentatively caressed her face, brushing her soft skin, exploring her temples, her jaw, and her throat, then stopping over hers.
She was overwhelmed by the feelings she had missed, and for a moment, she responded with no less passion.
Then she withdrew, barely regaining her breath.
“Jane is expecting me. I must go, and you must rest.” His face was still close to hers.
“Do you plan to torment me on purpose? That would be quite unfair, you know…”
“Since you already questioned my loyalty, you may well doubt my fairness, sir.”
He stared in disbelief at her harsh teasing.
“That was not fair, either. Tell me my punishment directly; do not torture me.”
“I do not want to torture you, but I cannot easily forget that you believed me capable of deceiving you in the most horrible way.”
“I have nothing to say in my defence—except that I was losing my mind. A man who loved you less and was less jealous would have probably thought more clearly.”
“That is hardly an excuse, sir.”
“I shall not attempt to deny it. But declaring that you can meet other men behind my back without my knowing was hardly better.”
“I am astonished that, though you were so tired and had lost your reason, you still remember those silly words I said in anger.”
Their voices became lighter, and their harsh words were half-serious. They teased to diminish the pain of their fight. A moment later, his lips found hers again.
“William, I must leave,” she whispered.
“Very well.” When she was ready to leave, his hand captured her arm.
“Elizabeth, I have many faults and have made many errors. But my feelings for you grow with each day. Of that you should have no doubt.”
“I know that—now I really do. Oh, and it seems we do fit both in the bed, after all—so you must not think of sleeping anywhere else. Rest now, husband.”
She quickly picked a dress from the closet, and it crossed her mind that it was the gown she was wearing the evening at Netherfield that they had spoken about accomplished ladies.
From the doorway, she glanced once more at him: his eyes were closed, and a contented smile was frozen on his lips.