Page 99 of Sketching Mr. Darcy
A wide smile lit Elizabeth’s face as her back straightened and she took a step closer.
“Lady Stafford, please allow me to clarify any remaining misunderstanding. I know the entire past history between you and my husband. Everything in the smallest detail, starting with the private month you spent in Ramsgate and ending with little Tommy.”
Lady Stafford paled and took a step backward.
“I also know that you ordered a dress similar to mine and intended to create some sort of a scandal at the Twelfth Night ball. You keep chasing my husband, and I do understand you. I imagine it must be difficult to have enjoyed even a short amount of time with him then to lose him forever. And since I spend every night and most of the day in his arms, I understand even more clearly your desire to win him back. But you must understand: this will not happen, ever. You have brought him such distress that he was forced to compare your wit to that of his dog! How does that make you feel? You cannot go on in this manner!”
“You have no right to speak to me like this!” Annabelle Stafford blurted.
“I shall do whatever I please. Nobody can stop me or force me to do otherwise! You may hate me, you may be scared of me, you may wish to get rid of me, but it will never happen! And I know Darcy once loved me. If it were not for you, he would have returned to me.”
“No, he would not.” Elizabeth’s voice softened, and she felt nothing but compassion for the spiteful woman in front of her.
“He told me that, even if he was not married and all the other women were to suddenly disappear, he still would not have been interested in you. I know this to be true, and I am sure you know it too, but you attempt to deceive yourself. And Lady Stafford—I do not hate you, and I am certainly not scared of you. I only pity you—deeply. I feel sorry for you, and I wonder that such a beautiful woman who now has means, position, and wealth, refuses to enjoy life and instead prefers to make a fool of herself and expose herself to ridicule and the censure of the world. People consider you an annoyance, Lady Stafford, not a menace!”
Lady Annabelle Stafford became as pale as the white silk damask-covered wall against which she searched for support. Though her mouth opened wide, no words came out. Elizabeth continued to look at Annabelle, her compassionate smile unchanged, while the lady made another attempt to speak.
Only then did both notice that their conversation had been witnessed by the unexpected approach of Lady Isabella, Lady Mary, Lady Maryanne—and Mr Darcy!
Lady Stafford’s pallor turned into a deep flush, and she almost ran away, seeking escape from the gazes that seemed to illustrate exactly what Elizabeth had told her. Elizabeth was troubled by the conversation and sought shelter on the arm of her husband.
The ladies smiled with certain embarrassment, and Lady Isabella apologised for any inconvenience Elizabeth had to bear. A minute later, a footman discreetly informed the host that Lady Annabelle Stafford was unwell and had left the ball unexpectedly.
The second set began, and all the ladies were claimed by their partners.
Darcy remained near the wall, employing his time in admiration of his wife as she danced with his cousin Robert.
Exceptionally beautiful, indeed—in this, “the idiot” Clayton had been right.
She was also keenly bright, generous, loving, and passionate—but all these things only he knew and was eager to enjoy again soon.
The way she spoke to Annabelle—her perfect calm and her elegant, yet harsh reasoning were truly admirable, and he noticed the same admiration in the ladies who unwillingly witnessed the scene.
When he had observed Elizabeth—and Annabelle approaching her—he hastened to them, being certain that the latter would do something to trouble Elizabeth.
He intended to save her, but there was no need.
Just as she told him a week ago—was it truly only a week ago?
—as soon as she knew the whole truth, she was able to bear and handle anything.
Darcy startled when his thoughts were disturbed by his Cousin James’s voice from nearby.
“I want to know whether you have considered what I asked you. Will you help me?”
“James, I would rescue you from yet another troublesome situation but only if you tell me the details. And I need a paper to testify to whom I am giving the money.”
“I will sign any paper you want. I must insist on this—these are my funds, and I can give them to whomever I please.”
“I see. James, I am rapidly losing my patience now. Have the wisdom to speak again tomorrow, although I can hardly see a reasonable resolution to this.”
“Tomorrow afternoon, I will call on you.”
“Such a joyful moment,” Darcy concluded as he took a glass of brandy, allowing his eyes and his anger to calm under the lovely image of Elizabeth dancing.
The rest of the ball progressed reasonably well. Elizabeth danced every set, including with Lord Clayton and James Darcy, but she skilfully avoided any disturbing subjects.
Darcy danced once with Lady Isabella, once with his cousin Maryanne, and the last again with his wife. More than one disapproving opinion was shared about his poor manners—especially since several unmarried ladies were without partners. However, Mr Darcy seemed oblivious to anything but his wife.
Later, the Darcys were among the first guests to leave.
A moment after the carriage moved, Elizabeth began to chat about the ball, but she was silenced as her husband’s arms entrapped her and his lips captured hers.
Fortunately, the ride was brief. They entered the house quickly, and Darcy briefly spotted another carriage near the entrance to the park.
It was certainly a different one than the previous evening, so he immediately took his mind from it, imagining it was a couple indulging in some illicit affair and seeking privacy.
Darcy dismissed Molly and Stevens, then the heavy doors closed, happily allowing Mr and Mrs Darcy full privacy in the silence and comfort of their apartment.
Elizabeth waited, somehow uneasy, as her husband did nothing but stare at her as they stood in the middle of the room. The fire burned steadily, and there were two candles on the table by the window and another two at the fireplace.
“Will you help me undress?” she asked, her lips and eyes smiling at him.
“Not yet…” His voice was hoarse, and his gaze dark. He took one more step then cupped her face and tasted her lips for an instant.
“Elizabeth, I want to do something that you might find disturbing… It has tormented me this entire night, and I could only think of the moment we would finally be alone…”
She struggled to gulp and to breathe, her heart beating wildly. “What is it?”
“I want to love you just as we are now—just as you are now—this very moment…”
Her eyes widened in miscomprehension. “You mean dressed like this?”
He started to kiss her face, his lips tantalising her skin and gently biting her earlobe.
“Dressed like this—just as I admired you and yearned for you every moment of the last hours.” His lips brushed over hers. “Would you, my love?”
“Would I what?” She struggled to understand, breathless and already burning inside.
“Would you allow me to love you this way?”
He gently pushed her against the wall, and her arms encircled his neck. She still did not understand what he meant but soon ceased to wonder as she abandoned herself to him.
“I would ‘ allow’ you to love me any way you want.” She daringly spoke her heart .
Astonished and overwhelmed by impatient kisses, she felt trapped between the cold wall and her husband’s warm passion, and hers soon was aroused just as strongly.
He caressed her, supported her, revealed her, and possessed her with such powerful desire, eagerness, and thirst that her remaining senses were only connected to him.
Sometime later, she felt herself lifted in haste and placed on the small dressing table.
He pulled her legs around him as her beautiful dress was gathered around her thighs and pulled down from her shoulders.
His kisses covered her face, her neck, and her shoulders while his hands explored the unrevealed parts of her burning body.
His thrusts inside her grew more intense, and she tried to stifle her cry of delight by biting the warm, sweaty skin of his neck.
He turned his head so that his mouth captured hers at the precise moment of complete fulfilment of their bodies, which shuddered in relief.
When Elizabeth was eventually able to think properly, her eyes were still closed, and she refused to even imagine the position in which they were lying.
She heard her husband whisper something. His voice was tender, sweet, and gentle, but she could not understand the words. Her legs were still entwined around him, her hands around his neck.
His coat and vest had been removed, and his shirt was half-open. His arms closed around her, and she felt herself carried and laid on the bed.
She kept her eyes closed while he gently undressed her completely, his lips tasting her uncovered skin.
Then his fingers removed the pins, freeing her heavy, dark tresses.
Only when there was no fabric between them did he lie beside her—their warm bodies touching and embracing in silence—and put the bed sheets over them.
“I should take off the jewels, too,” she whispered.
“No. I love the green reflection of the stones on your skin.”
“This dress must be completely ruined. Such a pity, I liked it so much. It fit me perfectly.”
“You should ask for it to be cleaned and keep it. But I would like you never to wear it again in public.”
His lips brushed over her ear while he spoke the wonder that was troubling her too.
“Elizabeth, how is it possible that I feel I just cannot have enough of you?”
“I do not know… When you have the answer, please help me understand too…”
“I promise…” His gentle yet daring caresses increased, and he spoke through repeated kisses. “Mrs Darcy, since you so kindly allowed my outrageous earlier request, is there some way to repay you?”
She moaned when their lips finally met.
“You seem quite proficient at guessing my mind lately, sir…so I would just trust your well known generosity.”
“A very wise decision, I would say,” he answered, and those were the last coherent words as he did everything in his power to prove himself worthy of her trust.