Abigail Reynolds - To Conquer Mr. Darcy

It was Jane’s turn to blush. “I am not so daring as you, Lizzy! We have been circumspect; he holds my hand when we are alone, and I have allowed him to kiss my cheek.”

“And have you never wanted more? No, do not try to answer; that was an unfair question. If the truth is to be told, I found William’s kisses very… pleasant, and they grew even more so with time. And the more we indulged in that pleasure, the more tempting it became to do more, and one night the temptation became too great for us. Despite everything our mother has told us about the duties of the marriage bed, it truly can bring great joy and happiness as well.”

“That is reassuring, I suppose, after what she has said! But Lizzy, was it not upsetting for you, afterwards?”

Elizabeth could not prevent a smile. “Well, I was quite shocked at myself, I must admit, and disappointed at my weakness. Certainly I would not have chosen to have it happen so. I had so hoped that you and I would share a wedding! But there are ways in which it was not as surprising as it might have been. He and I have always been out of step with the usual procedure—our time here was more like an engagement for us in many ways. I know that Mr. Darcy saw himself as committed to me very early on, which affected his behavior towards me, and while I would not admit to myself what was happening, I knew some time before I accepted him that I would be marrying him.”

“Yet you always denied any interest in him so vehemently!”

With a rueful smile, Elizabeth said, “My very vehemence was probably the best evidence against me! I believe as well that you saw through me on more than one occasion as far as that goes.” She thought back, wondering when in fact she had gained an inkling that it was inevitable, and a memory came back to her of that first day when he had surprised her with his appearance at Longbourn, when she had asked him how long he would be staying in Hertfordshire, and he had replied, ‘As long as necessary.’

Jane squeezed her hand lightly. “Dearest Lizzy, I hope that we shall always be the best of friends, and that marriage shall not separate our hearts, no matter how far apart we may live.”

Elizabeth heartily endorsed this sentiment.

Darcy came down to breakfast late the following morning with a spring in his step. If he had thought himself insatiable before, it was nothing compared to how he responded in the ambience of Netherfield and the memories it roused in him. It had been a long night of passion in which he had made love to Elizabeth again and again, intoxicated by her eagerness and her soft cries of pleasure.

When he entered the breakfast room, Bingley looked up at him from a plate of toast with a characteristic broad smile and said, “Darcy, you look to be in a fine mood this morning!”

Darcy placed his hands on the table and leaned across it toward his friend. “Bingley, I am married to the most astonishing woman in the world, and if her sister is anything like her, you will be a very happy man indeed.”

Bingley’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh, ho, my friend, is that how the land lies?”

Darcy gave a smug smile. “Indeed it is.”

“You lucky dog!” Bingley shook his head philosophically. “You are cruel to flaunt your happiness in front of me when I must wait for weeks yet for my angel! Our wedding has yet to be rescheduled. I wish I had a bishop for a godfather!”

Unaccustomed to the art of deception, Darcy experienced a moment of confusion before recalling the public version of their marriage. Recovering himself, he said, “I would not, in fact, recommend our route to the altar, although I admit that the results are very satisfactory indeed.”

“Darcy,” said Bingley suspiciously, “what are you failing to tell me? You are without question the worst liar I know!”

Darcy gave him a quelling stare, but his spirits were too high to hold it for long. He went about helping himself to breakfast with no further attention to Bingley’s comment. Bingley, realizing with glee that he had found one of those rare subjects on which his serious friend could be teased, closed in. “Come now, Darcy, confess. What happened? Did you deliberately put the idea in the bishop’s head?”

“Bingley,” Darcy said calmly, buttering his toast, “if I were to tell you why we married so quickly, you would feel obligated, as Elizabeth’s future brother, to thrash me within an inch of my life, and that hardly seems a good omen for our future.”

“Darcy! You didn’t!” Bingley’s voice contained elements of both shock and awe.

“And you, perhaps, could vouch for your own behavior if you were to accidentally meet Jane alone, wearing nothing more than a rather revealing dressing gown, in the middle of the night?”

“Well, if I could, it would be because of faith in Jane, rather than myself,” Bingley conceded. Could it be that Fitzwilliam Darcy was actually admitting a failing? With a smile on his face? “Well, given the extenuating circumstances, perhaps I will refrain from thrashing you, but only if Lizzy comes downstairs with a smile on her face as well.”

“In that case, I believe I have nothing to worry about,” Darcy said with a self-satisfied air.

“Are you enjoying tormenting me, Darcy, or is it just happenstance?” asked Bingley.

Darcy just smiled. “Your turn will come, my friend.”

Bingley rode to Longbourn after breakfast, leaving Elizabeth and Darcy to make their way to the Bennet house on their own. Darcy had nostalgically ordered the curricle readied, which produced an amused laugh from Elizabeth. He took her hand in his, giving her a warmly possessive look, as they drove off, those moments from his courtship of her very much alive in both their minds.

Elizabeth brought his hand up to her cheek, then pressed a kiss on it. “By the by, I never found a chance yesterday to ask you what was so amusing to you and my father yesterday in the library.”

“Why, does it strike you as odd that we should be amicable for more than ten minutes at a stretch?” he asked mockingly.

“I would say that ten minutes is quite generous for the two of you!”

“Well, he was entertaining me with stories of your childhood misadventures, and attempting to warn me that you can have moments of temper given sufficient provocation.” He gave her an amused look. “I admitted to having a certain degree of experience with that already.”

“What do you mean?” she said indignantly. “When have I lost my temper with you?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Hunsford.”

She colored. “Well, I try to think only of the past as its remembrance gives me pleasure, and that is one moment that I have tried hard to forget! And I do not believe that I was the only intemperate one that day.”

He gave her an indulgent look. “I never suggested otherwise, my love, and you may feel perfectly free to put it completely out of your mind if it pleases you.”

“I hope you did not tell my father about that!”

“Well, only selected moments,” he admitted. “He seemed to find them entertaining.”

“William!” she said indignantly. “I cannot believe you would do such a thing!”

“It did allow us to avoid fighting for over a quarter of an hour, which must be a record of sorts,” he said defensively. “And he told far more stories than I did.”

She looked at him through narrowed eyes. Her spirits were too high to allow her to be annoyed, however, and she could admit that it was precisely the kind of conversation that would have pleased Mr. Bennet immensely.

“I did tell him that you were completely justified,” he added.

“Well, I shall forgive you this time.”

“Pity,” he said lightly.

“Why is that a pity?” she asked suspiciously.

“If you would not forgive me, I would have to take you back to Netherfield and make love to you until you did.”

“You are incorrigible, William! To think I once thought you sober and restrained!”

“That was only to allow me to catch you off your guard,” he teased.

“Well, however you did it, you certainly did catch me.”

It was near dark when the Netherfield party returned home, Elizabeth still finding it odd to be included in that number. Once they had arrived, it was not long before she excused herself for the evening, having found it to be a rather emotional day on top of little sleep the night before. Darcy, waiting below to give her time to make her preparations before joining her, poured a glass of port for himself and one for Bingley, and settled himself to listen sympathetically to his friend’s woes over his delayed wedding.

When Darcy finally felt it appropriate to retire, Bingley looked at him with a gleam in his eye. “Yes, Bingley?” he said patiently.

“Darcy,” he said with an engaging grin, “Jane and I had a particularly lovely walk today. I do not know what Lizzy said to her yesterday, but if you would not mind convincing her to say a great deal more of it, I would be most appreciative.”

Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Am I to understand that my wife is encouraging your fiancée in improper behavior?”

“Apparently,” said Bingley, “and with our wedding delayed, Jane’s kisses may be my only hope of sanity!”

Bingley had convinced Jane to join them for dinner the next day, and had sent his carriage for her, as it seemed likely to rain. He had been pacing the floor of the sitting room ever since, waiting eagerly for her arrival, and when the sound of the carriage was finally heard, he practically dashed out to greet her. Elizabeth made to follow him, but Darcy caught her hand and held her back. “Let them have a few minutes together, my love,” he said with amusement.