It did not, however, stop her from eying Elizabeth with distaste each time she noticed Darcy turn toward his wife with a small smile or a private look. On several occasions, Miss Bingley was almost positive she had witnessed him slipping his hand beneath the table to caress his wife’s leg, though surely, she thought with abject horror, that could not possibly be the case!

Miss Bingley’s anger only grew as the evening wore on. She knew nothing could be gained and everything lost by maintaining the contempt she harbored for the new mistress of Pemberley, but she could not seem to curb her deep resentment. She had been disgusted months ago when Darcy had shown the first signs of burgeoning interest in Elizabeth and, later, was shocked and insulted when he had actually chosen to make the reputed local beauty his wife—an upstart country miss with little breeding and no elegance, so different from herself, whose superiority as an accomplished lady and dowry of twenty thousand pounds should have been his obvious choice.

The fact that Darcy had cut Miss Bingley in Bond Street shortly after his marriage made her stiffen in indignation. He could not possibly have been moved to act in such an offensive and demeaning manner toward her without the influence and manipulation of his wife. She obviously held a great deal of sway over him, though Miss Bingley could hardly understand why, especially after noticing how Elizabeth’s fashionable gown seemed to fit her somewhat unfashionably, a clear indication she was not quite as slender as when they had all first known her. This, Miss Bingley decided, could only be to her advantage, and she would certainly use it to turn Darcy’s attention from Elizabeth and toward herself.

“Pray, Eliza, might I persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room? It is so refreshing after sitting for so long in one attitude.”

Her brow raised, Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, whose equal surprise at having heard words very nearly identical to those uttered by the same woman many months prior showed clearly upon his face. The entire room seemed to quiet, much as it had six months earlier, as all eyes became fixed upon the two ladies.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but I will decline. I am feeling a little tired, and if everyone will be so kind as to excuse me, I do believe I will retire.” Elizabeth knew precisely what her calculating hostess was about and smiled ruefully to herself. She would not fall victim to whatever scheme Miss Bingley had devised. She was not in the mood.

Elizabeth rose, and Darcy with her. “I shall join you, as well. I believe we have both had a long day.”

Miss Bingley made a slight sound of protest, but her brother’s amicable voice overpowered hers. He rose and said, “I am very sorry to be losing your company so soon this evening, but perhaps you will consent to a ride in the morning, Darcy? I am in desperate need of a good gallop—that is, if Elizabeth is feeling well enough to spare you. I cannot pretend to know anything of the particulars in these delicate matters, being a man and all, but…” His words died on his lips when he caught sight of the look of exasperation upon Darcy’s face. Striding toward them, his cheeks flaming, Bingley took both of Elizabeth’s hands in his and, under the pretense of giving her a brotherly peck on her cheek, whispered, “I certainly know how to put my foot in it, do I not, Lizzy? Please forgive my blunder. Darcy told me of your delightful news when you were last in Hertfordshire. I certainly did not mean to speak out of turn.”

Elizabeth had to laugh at his flustered demeanor and hastened to save him from further distress. “I beg you would think no more of it, Charles. My aunt and Jane know, in any case, as do Georgiana, Lydia, and several of Fitzwilliam’s discerning relations. I daresay the others appear to be none the wiser.” With a smile, Elizabeth inclined her head toward her parents and remaining sisters, all of whom were presently engaged in their own conversations and paying no mind to hers. “Tomorrow I will share our happy news with the rest of my family. There, that being said, you are now at liberty to be completely at ease.”

Elizabeth squeezed Bingley’s hands and bid the room, in general, a good night. She and Darcy then made their way to their rooms at a leisurely pace, their arms linked. “Though I can overlook Bingley’s misstep, I can hardly account for Miss Bingley. What on earth could she have been about, do you think?” Darcy asked dryly, repressing a teasing smile.

“I believe, my dear,” Elizabeth answered in a tone that was half amusement, half irritation, “you know very well what she was about. She saw only my increasing size and wished to draw attention to the distinct differences in our figures, much as she did when she attempted it the first time I was a guest here.”

Darcy laughed and pulled her into a close embrace. “Yes, and with much success, I might add, though none of it in her favor. In my eyes, your figure was by far superior to hers, and as for how I now feel, you are well aware I take nothing but the utmost pleasure in your increasing figure and the reason responsible for it.” He trailed one finger along her neckline with agonizing slowness. “Your breasts alone are inducement enough to lock you away and have my way with you,” he murmured. “You are stunning, even more so now that you shall be a mother. It is all I can do to remain in control around you, for your body seems to rob me of every gentlemanly instinct I possess.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed as Darcy’s hand slipped lower to caress her breast. He drew slow circles through the fabric of her gown with his palm, and she moaned softly. “Mmm…as wonderful as this feels, you know we cannot continue here. Someone may come upon us at any moment.”

“Indeed,” he whispered against her neck. “What say you to the library, then? Surely no one will come upon us there.”

“No one but my father,” she laughed. “Whatever is wrong with our own rooms, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy sighed and embraced her as he rested his forehead against hers. Transferring his hands to her back, he admitted, “Nothing at all, but I have always had a certain fantasy, if you will, of seducing you in Bingley’s library. The delightful image of you in all your maidenly innocence, succumbing to my powers of persuasion, dominated my every waking moment while you were staying here nursing Jane shortly after I had first arrived in Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth pulled back her head and looked into his eyes as a slow smile played upon her lips. “I had no idea. I thought only that you did not wish for me to intrude upon your privacy, which I confess to doing just to provoke your ire. After all, I believed you had done the same to me at the time.”

He stroked a stray curl from her cheek. “Hardly. Though I knew it to be wrong, not to mention dangerous, I confess to seeking you out whenever the opportunity arose. I could not seem to help myself. I was purposely throwing myself in your way—tempting fate, if you will—and wishing for I know not what to happen between us, but, at the very least, desperately hoping to spend some time in your company without anyone else to observe my open admiration. As you well know, it quickly turned into ardent love.” He sighed. “As you can see, Mrs. Darcy, very little has changed.”

“Oh, no. I would have to disagree with that, Mr. Darcy,” she said archly. “You see, I now have a much better understanding of your taciturn nature, and I have come to discover you are not the least bit proud or disagreeable. No, my dear husband, I now find your society to be infinitely satisfying. Never would I provoke your ire, sir, at least not for my own amusement. In fact,” she said, “where you are now concerned, I find my desires to be quite the opposite of what they once were.”

“How very fortunate, then, for me,” he murmured against her lips as his hands stroked her hips and the softness of her derrière. “Let us retire to our room before I take possession of you right here in the middle of Bingley’s hall.” They did retire and spent half the night in amorous occupation, completely oblivious that every word they had uttered had been overheard.

After Darcy and Elizabeth had quit the drawing room, Miss Bingley had passed several minutes in a fit of pique before she finally resolved to retire herself, certain that the following morning would provide another opportunity for her to expose Elizabeth to possible censure. As she made her way toward her apartment, she heard lowered voices. Realizing too late precisely who it was and what they were engaged in, Miss Bingley stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide as her mouth literally dropped open.

Her first impulse was to give them a severe scolding; her next, to run; but then, and quite against her will, she found herself studying them, listening to them. She knew she was infringing upon their privacy—nay, on their intimacy—but, try as she would, she could not seem to tear herself away from the picture they presented. It was at that moment Miss Bingley finally understood it was not some passing infatuation on his part that had forced Darcy to sacrifice himself and all his wealth and consequence to the woman in his arms. Darcy was truly in love with his wife, and even more astounding to Miss Bingley was the realization that Elizabeth returned his love.

As Miss Bingley made her way to her room, she thought back to the time when she had first made the acquaintance of Elizabeth Bennet. None of Netherfield Park’s inhabitants had thought her anything extraordinary, Darcy included, but Miss Bingley soon recalled that the master of Pemberley had not passed three evenings in her company before he had declared her eyes to be especially fine and her face rather beautiful. If Elizabeth had been aware of it, she had never given any indication of such knowledge. As a matter of fact, she had always acted as though Darcy was no different than her stodgy Uncle Phillips.