“Also, I was appalled at the attitude of some men, Wickham and his ilk. They bragged about their sexual exploits and were lewd, crass, and ungentlemanly. There was nary a hint of affection or regard for the women involved. They justified their actions, naturally, by pointing out that the women were of low station or immoral. It made no sense to me. Were not they as immoral and low if they partook in such base activity? Also, many of the women were not those who were for hire. It became a game among some to hunt down and seduce certain ladies, servants and the like, and then to boast of the conquest. I was disgusted and refused to be party to it.”

“My years at Cambridge passed, and I was extraordinarily happy there. By the time I left, still virtuous, I had for the most part mastered the forbearance and temperance that is innate in my character, which I inherited from my father.”

Darcy began pacing, head bent as he spoke further. “I returned to Pemberley. Not two months later my father collapsed. It was totally unexpected. His heart, the physicians said. One week later he had died and I, at two and twenty and utterly unprepared, was Master of Pemberley and guardian to a grieving eleven-year-old sister.”

“There truly is not a word in the King’s English to describe how overwhelming my life became for the next year or so. Mrs. Reynolds completely took over the management of the household staff and upkeep. My father’s steward, Mr. Wickham the elder, was a remarkable man. Without them, I believe Pemberley would have folded. Tragically, Mr. Wickham also passed a scant six months later. Fortunately, I had been an apt pupil. My uncle, Lord Matlock, assisted me tremendously and aided me in replacing Mr. Wickham with my current steward, Mr. Keith. Eventually I was able to breathe again and believed I could actually succeed in my new position.

“Then London Society came calling.” His voice held a tone of disgust and bitterness. “New demands were placed on my shoulders, demands I wanted no part of, yet knew I had to accept. Elizabeth, I judge you do not yet appreciate what an agony it is for me. I am fully aware that interacting with society is my responsibility, but I so despise it. It is not just my own shyness and lack of proper social skills, although that certainly is a major part of it. It is the insincerity, the deceitfulness, the affected friendliness of the ton that repulses me. Few pure souls can be found and the women are the worst.

“London is replete with Caroline Bingleys. Women who held me in high favor because of who I was: the perfect ‘catch’ worth 10,000 a year. I am not a fool. I knew that none of them cared for me but only for my wealth and position. Married women, in the boredom and loneliness of empty marriages, offered themselves to me as a diversion. I was revolted.

“With each passing year, as I knew it was expected of me to marry, I despaired of ever finding a woman who would give me what I so urgently wanted and needed. I trusted none of them, even the few who piqued my interest. I began to believe that I would never have what my parents had, and I grew so bitter and so very weary of the search.

“Yet, at the same time, it hardened my resolve. If I could not find what I wanted, then I would not marry at all. I am a profoundly obstinate man, my love, if you have not realized that already! Once I set a course, I am loyal to it. If I was so fortunate and blessed to find love, then I would be devoted, faithful, and enduringly thankful until the day I died.”

He stopped pacing and looked at Elizabeth. For a long time he gazed upon her beloved face and she tenderly gazed back. She hoped that her love for him, her pleasure in all that he had shared with her, was visible on her countenance. Finally, he returned and knelt before her, taking her hands in his firm grip.

“My dearest, precious Elizabeth. I have saved myself for you, even before I knew who you were. As trite as that sounds, it is the truth, and I do not merely mean in the intimate realm of our relationship. My principles, my pride perhaps, would not allow me to consider giving myself to anyone less than the woman I would love and marry. Even in my despair of ever finding you, I still clung to the idea that you existed. You had to exist! I simply needed to be patient. Call me a hopeless romantic!”

He chuckled softly and gently touched her cheek as she beheld him with absolute love and dedication. “My decision to wait for you, physically and emotionally and spiritually, was a worthy one. I know that we will be wonderful together, in every possible way, as husband and wife. I will never, ever want anything or anyone more than I want you! Elizabeth, my heart, you must know that and believe me.”

She smiled at him and gently stroked his hands. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she could hardly speak. “I do, William. Thank you for sharing your life with me, past, present, and future. Thank you for waiting for me.”

“You also must know, beloved, that I would never force myself upon you in any way. Your wishes, needs, and desires are of paramount importance to me. I sincerely hope that our relationship will never come to a point where we do not desire each other’s company, but you must understand that I will always respect you and would never want to cause you harm or pain in any way. Elizabeth…”

She stopped his words with her fingers then leaned forward to place a gentle, chaste kiss upon his lips. “My darling William. I wish to please you as much as you wish to please me. Your words have eased my heart completely. I have no fears now, only the overwhelming need to show you how much I love you. Our wedding day cannot come soon enough for me!” 

Chapter Three

The Wedding Night

Lizzy took one last look in the mirror and then entered the bedchamber with a happy smile and wildly beating heart. The room was lit only by the fire, two oil lamps, the filtered moonlight, and a wall sconce on either side of the bed. For a moment she thought the room empty but then she noticed her husband standing by a window with his back to her. She caught her breath at the sight before her. He was standing as she had so often seen him stand, with spine perfectly straight, feet firmly planted, and one arm bent with his hand resting on his waist. He was wearing a long maroon robe with a black sash, and every detail of his physique was evident through its folds. She found the view enchanting, and her heart began to race crazily.

“William,” she whispered.

He turned quickly at her voice and it was his turn to catch his breath. His carefully regulated control slipped instantaneously and his groin responded alarmingly. Several deep breaths were necessary to maintain his equilibrium. For a long moment they stood paralyzed, drinking in each other with their eyes. Darcy was the first to break the spell as he moved to meet her in the middle of the room. He longed to grab her and enfold her in his arms, yet at the same time, he wished to study her beauty, memorizing every line and curve of the vision before him.

He stopped a short distance from her and took her outstretched hands, halting her forward movement. She looked at him quizzically. “Elizabeth,” he said huskily, “may I simply adore you for a moment?”

She smiled and matched his boldness. “Only, sir, if I may do the same!”

Elizabeth had picked a nightgown of sheer satin, pale yellow with tiny bows down the bodice, narrow strap sleeves, a deeply scooped neckline, and pleated gathers just under her bosom. Her hair was loose down her back and shoulders in a chestnut veil of soft curls. Darcy had seen her hair down on a couple of occasions, but never in such an intimate setting, and the sight rendered him breathless and weak in the knees.

Her face was flushed, eyes bright and merry and completely full of love. The gown itself was thin but not totally transparent, offering tantalizing glimpses of her flawless form underneath. The satin flowed over her hips in gentle folds and over barely visible legs until just touching the tops of delicate feet, leaving tiny toes exposed. The entire vision was delectable and so moving to Darcy’s soul. Everything about her was perfection and beauty. He knew his aroused state was obvious to her searching eyes, but under the circumstances, there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Elizabeth, not completely unaware of the effect she was having on her husband, was nonetheless experiencing her own breathlessness as she carefully examined the presence before her hungry eyes. On only three occasions had she seen William in anything other than his full attire: while staying with Jane at Netherfield when she had spied him from her window after his ride, soaking wet from sweat and the water pump; once while he was riding; and many months later when he strode through the early morning mist on the day he proposed for the second time.

On all occasions her mind had been clouded with sleep or lack of it, daydreams, and overwrought emotions. The image of him as she had seen him on those three occasions had burned into her memory to return in her dreams, but it always seemed vague and hazy. This, however, was real. This time she was fully in charge of her senses and faculties, and she fully intended to take note of every detail possible.

He looked so young with his face relaxed; all the tension and careful regulation that usually strained his noble features were gone. His eyes blazed a vivid indigo in the half light of the room, shining and intense with bridled passion and deep love. His robe enclosed his broad shoulders and strong arms completely, yet somehow accented the shape underneath to great advantage. His neck was bare and she could see his pulse beating rapidly in the hollow of his throat. The robe was pulled tight across his muscular chest and belted securely at his lower abdomen. She could only see a triangle of his chest to roughly mid-sternum, dark hairs visible, and her fingers literally itched to touch his skin. His robe covered the rest of his body, hugging his slender waist, falling to his ankles, leaving his feet bare.