Their lovemaking was sweet and tender, and when Elizabeth lay in his arms afterwards, she could sense that it had lightened his humor somewhat. She stroked his cheek affectionately, and he turned his face to her. “You do not intend to forget anything for a minute, do you, my love?” he asked lightly.

“I do not wish to forget anything that relates to you. You have made it clear that when I am in distress, you wish to know about it; likewise, I would like to share in any troubles you face.”

“Trapped in my own net,” he said affectionately. “Very well, my love, you may do your worst, though this is not as large a matter as you seem to believe, just that the prospect of seeing George Wickham tomorrow is an unpleasant one for me.”

“I can hardly fault you for that, William. It is distressing to think that anyone can care so little for the harm he does to others, and be so impudent as to suppose that he shall always escape unscathed.”

Darcy sighed deeply. “It is the more distressing when he is someone you have counted as a friend.”

She considered his words. Certainly, she had experienced a sense of betrayal when she realized Wickham’s true character after reading Darcy’s letter, and a sense of self-disgust that she had allowed herself to admire and be attracted by such a man. Her acquaintance with him, though, had been but a few short months; Darcy had known him his entire life, and by his own report they had been companions in their youth. How much greater must be the pain of his treachery under those circumstances! Having some sense as to the depth of her husband’s personal loyalties, she could only imagine what it must have cost him to dissolve a friendship that had begun so early, and with someone with such strong ties to his family. “That must be very difficult indeed,” she said.

“He knows my vulnerabilities so well. If it were only money, or even dishonor, that he sought, it would be less painful. But no, he understands how much more pain he can cause me by injuring those I love. I will not be able to look at him without seeing the hurt that he has dealt first to Georgiana, now to you. It is well-nigh unbearable.”

Elizabeth knew that she would have to word her next question carefully. “I have never understood why he wishes to injure you in the first place.”

Darcy grimaced. “It is not as if he spends his time searching for ways to get his revenge on me; it is more that he cannot resist an opportunity when he sees one, and he can see opportunities where no one else can. As to why… I have always assumed that he never surmounted his jealousy about the differences in our prospects. When we were young it meant nothing, but as we grew older, he resented it more. I believe it gives him some sense of power to get the better of me in one way or another, so he continues his tricks to this day.”

She nestled close to him. “I am so sorry. I do not believe that I can imagine what it would feel like to have a friend turn on you in that way. And, William…” she trailed off.

“Yes, my love?” He tangled his fingers in her long curls.

“Thank you for undertaking the mortification of dealing with him, for Lydia’s sake.”

“Sweet Elizabeth, you hardly need thank me for remedying a situation that would not have existed but for me.”

“No,” she said determinedly, “it exists because of Wickham’s amorality, and if you play any role in it at all, it is because he knows that in a cause of compassion and honor, you will be able to get the better of yourself and work for a solution with a man you despise. I am proud of you.”

He gathered her even closer to him. “My dearest love, you are very good to me, and I do not deserve such praise.”

She sat up abruptly and fixed a look of mock disapproval on her face. “Are you arguing with me, Mr. Darcy?” she said, in tones that would not have been out of place for Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

She was pleased to see him laugh. “I would never dream of it, madam.”

“I am glad to hear it,” she replied briskly. “Otherwise I should have to punish you.”

“And how, pray tell, would you accomplish that, Mrs. Darcy?” he inquired.

She took advantage of her position over him to give him a very good sense of how she intended to punish him, running her hands lightly along the lines of his body. With a wicked smile, she began to stroke and caress him in the ways she knew he found most arousing.

He reached up and drew her down on top of him. “In that case, madam,” he said, between kisses, “I feel it only appropriate to warn you that I am feeling quite argumentative tonight.”

Fourteen

Elizabeth was pleased to discover Darcy’s frame of mind substantially improved by the next morning. If not in particularly good spirits, he no longer appeared actively distressed, even when it came time to depart for St. Clements. They arrived there just before the hour to find Lydia fidgeting in her impatience for matters to proceed, and full of complaints about her stay in London. Mrs. Gardiner was clearly tempted to put in a few words of her own, but managed to restrain herself to sharing with Elizabeth some of the frustrations of the past two weeks.

Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief when they entered the church and found that Wickham was in fact there. Her one fear had been that he would somehow fail to appear. He greeted them both in his most amiable manner, and Elizabeth was proud to see Darcy managing to be in general civil. Fortunately, the ceremony began shortly thereafter.

As Lydia came down the aisle on her uncle’s arm, Elizabeth could not help thinking back to making the same journey herself in Matlock, but the similarities between the two occasions ended there. Lydia’s giggling and flirtatious glances at Wickham seemed to make a mockery of what should have been a solemn occasion, and while Wickham’s demeanor was more appropriate, she knew the ceremony meant nothing to him but a source of income. The curate had little interest in the occasion, since Wickham lived in the parish but was not a churchgoer, and he gabbled his way through the service as quickly as possible. At one point Elizabeth turned to Darcy and saw that his jaw had a grim set to it. With a feeling of mischief, she whispered to him, “Are you arguing with me again?” and was pleased to see the corners of his lips lift in a barely disguised smile.

The service could not end soon enough for Elizabeth, and afterwards she bore Lydia’s company as well as she could manage while Darcy, Wickham, and Mr. Gardiner met with Darcy’s attorney to finalize the money matters. When they returned, Lydia and Wickham set forth on the coach to Newcastle after a few more foolish comments from the bride.

“I am glad that your father did not give in to your mother and allow them to return to Longbourn,” Darcy said in Elizabeth’s ear.

“I was grateful that you were there when the question arose, or I fear that he might have been unable to hold his position. My mother can be very persistent.”

“I am hardly surprised, though I do not believe that I am in any position to criticize anyone for being persistent,” he teased. “But let us bid your aunt and uncle farewell; Georgiana will be expecting us home soon.”

*   *   *

Their first months at Pemberley passed quickly. It was soon difficult for Elizabeth to recall a time when Mr. Darcy had not been in her thoughts constantly, and she became accustomed to the duties of the Mistress of Pemberley, with substantial assistance from Mrs. Reynolds.

One day after they had been discussing the menus, Mrs. Reynolds said, “If I may consult you on a separate matter, madam, I have been wondering whether to start preparing the nursery. It has not been used since Miss Darcy was a babe, and it is not in the best condition.”

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow, wondering whether this question dealt in generalities or if Mrs. Reynolds had made some surmises. She herself had been questioning for some time the changes she was feeling in her body. She ought to have suspected that Mrs. Reynolds would miss nothing. Elizabeth had no doubts that the housekeeper was eagerly anticipating the arrival of Mr. Darcy’s children, and surely she would have been watching carefully for any signs that the mistress might be increasing. “You seem to have some suspicions, Mrs. Reynolds,” she said delicately.

“You have had that look about you of late, Mrs. Darcy,” she acknowledged.

“I have had some suspicions of my own, but they are nothing more than that, so I would appreciate it if this went no further at this point. I have no great expertise in this matter, and I would not wish to raise any false hopes.”

“You have not shared this with Mr. Darcy, I assume,” Mrs. Reynolds said with the boldness of a long-time family servant. “He still seems very happy.”

“Why should he not be happy?”

“Oh, madam,” Mrs. Reynolds said, “I venture to guess that when informed of the situation Mr. Darcy will suffer from a case of nerves such as you will scarcely believe, and it will be all we can do to contain him. It was so when his mother was increasing, and I have no doubt that it will be all the worse for that.”

It came to Elizabeth that Mrs. Reynolds had not raised this subject by accident. “Pray continue.”

“The young master was quite affected by Lady Anne’s illness after Miss Georgiana’s birth; we thought at the time that she was unlikely to remain with us. He had always been close to his mother, though never closer than when he sat with her every day during her recovery. When he discovered that she was once again in a delicate condition a few years later, he became quite, shall I say, paralyzed with concern for her, fearing the worst. All of us tried to reassure him, but he would not speak of his worries to anyone. When his worst fears came true, he was devastated.” Mrs. Reynolds paused. “To this day, I have seen that he is uncomfortable when confronted with any woman in such a condition, and I can only imagine that it will be all the worse for him when it is his wife he sees before him.”