“Orman! You will unhand my wife this instant, or I promise you will not live to see the light of day.” One glance at Darcy’s enraged face and Orman flinched, releasing Lizzy’s hand as if it were on fire. Darcy was livid, visage dark and perilous, flinty eyes boring into Orman with a chilling intensity. Without blinking or removing his glare, he handed the cups to Elizabeth. “My dear, take these and find Lady Matlock. I will join you momentarily.” His voice was calm but colder than Lizzy had ever heard it. She took the cups and left without a word.
A backward glance revealed Darcy firmly and ruthlessly propelling the unresisting Marquis out of the hall. Oddly, no one in the near vicinity seemed to have noticed any of it. Lizzy found the Matlocks sitting with the Vernors, elder and younger, and tremblingly told them what had transpired. Lord Matlock and Henry Vernor rose instantly and exited the hall. Harriet and Lady Matlock comforted Lizzy.
“That man has always been trouble,” Lady Matlock proclaimed. “I cannot fathom what Sir Cole was thinking, inviting him tonight. You can be sure he will hear about this.”
Lizzy was further distraught and felt tears rising to her eyes. “Oh no! I do not wish for this to be made into a scandal. Mr. Darcy abhors talk and would be so angry.”
Lady Matlock looked at her sharply. “Elizabeth, do not fret. It will remain discreet and William would never be angry with you for this. You said no one noticed. Harriet, dear, take Elizabeth into the library. I shall tell Mr. Darcy where you are.”
Some fifteen minutes later Darcy entered the library. Lizzy was calm, talking softly with Harriet, who rose when Darcy approached. “Thank you, Mrs. Vernor, for attending to my wife.”
She curtseyed. “It was my pleasure Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth, I shall see you soon.”
“Thank you, Harriet, for everything.”
The second the door closed behind her, Darcy dropped his pose of serenity and knelt before Lizzy, taking her face into his hands and studying her raptly. “Beloved, are you well? Please forgive me for allowing this to occur. What did he say to you? Did he hurt you in any way?” His voice caught and he swallowed.
Lizzy shook her head quickly and put her arms around him. “William, I am fine. He did not hurt me and nothing he said is of any import. He was intoxicated and rambling. There is nothing to forgive.” She smiled, “Your timing was excellent, as I was about to kick him. How would that have looked? You are my hero.” She kissed him teasingly, but he would have none of that and clutched her to his chest, kissing her possessively.
“I should have had him thrown out earlier when he insulted you,” he growled. “He is damned fortunate I did not kill him tonight!”
She peered at his frowning face. “Did you… do anything to him?”
He inhaled deeply and then smiled, “Such as trounce him within an inch of his miserable life? It was tempting, but no. Somehow I did not think you would wish to dance with me covered in blood.” He ran his fingers over her cheeks. “Elizabeth, are you positive you are well? You must tell me the truth.” He continued to peer at her with the familiar Darcy intensity at full force while gently massaging the wrist Orman had grabbed.
“I am fine. I was angry more than anything. I despise rude people and did not want this wonderful night ruined.”
Darcy kissed her wrist and mouth tenderly and then rose. “Nothing is ruined, my love. If I have not lost track of time, there is still one more dance set before the play.” He held his arm out. “May I have the honor, Mrs. Darcy?”
They were the last couple to join the line. It was a frolicsome dance to end the evening, and by the completion, Lizzy and Darcy had put the whole episode with Lord Orman behind them. Smiling and breathless, they accompanied the parade of merrymakers into the dining room, which had hastily been converted into a playhouse. The stage spanned the far wall, an enormous curtain concealing the preparations from the audience being ushered to their seats. The Darcys’ seats were in the fifth row. As soon as the lights were dimmed, Darcy clasped Lizzy’s hand, interlacing his fingers with hers.
It was now after midnight; therefore, Twelfth Night was officially over and it was now Twelfth Day, the traditional day of Christ’s Epiphany. The Coles had, for all the years of their Masque, separated the entertainment into two parts: feast and dancing followed by a stage theatrical. This year Sir Cole had hired a troupe of pantomimes from London for the first act. As expected, the comedic company delivered a riotous, irreverent performance. The play chosen was the classic English fairy tale Jack and the Beanstalk, executed brilliantly with smashing audience participation. Mugs of wassail had been passed around for the obligatory cheers of “Waes hael,” as well as small bags of beans to throw at the giant when instructed. Lizzy had never witnessed anything quite like it nor laughed so hard in her life.
After an intermission, the audience took their seats for the last half of the production. For the dramatic portion of the theatrical, Sir Cole had hired a renowned company from Birmingham to perform the new play by E. T. A. Hoffmann, Nutcracker and the Mouse King. This latest piece had been written just that year and not yet translated for the general masses; therefore, it was an amazing treat. Darcy, especially, was fascinated by the Prussian author’s stories, so he was delighted and utterly spellbound. Lizzy privately found it too somber but highly imaginative, nonetheless, and magnificently acted.
The end of the theatricals effectively capped a marvelous evening. Visiting, drinking, and nibbling continued for several hours more, although Darcy and Lizzy tarried for some forty-five minutes only. Lizzy renewed her teatime appointment with Harriet, Mrs. Fitzherbert, Mrs. Sitwell, and Mrs. Drury. Darcy thanked his aunt for comforting Elizabeth after the Orman debacle. Invitations were extended by Darcy to several of the young couples of his circle for dinner two days hence, before the Gardiners and Lathrops departed. He spontaneous planned this without consulting Lizzy, to her surprise, not because she minded but because she would have thought him weary of so much entertainment.
Finally in their carriage, nestled close for warmth as well as the yearning to touch each other, Lizzy sighed and contentedly rested her head on Darcy’s inner shoulder. He kissed her head and stroked her arm. She arched her neck and peered at her husband’s smiling face. “You were the handsomest man there, my love, and I the most fortunate of women because I get to go home with you.”
“Flatterer! It is not necessary, beloved; you already have me.”
“I can only speak the truth. Now kiss me, Mr. Darcy, and then tell me about the plans you have for when we get home.”
He did not answer her inquiry but did acquiesce to her request by kissing her searchingly in sheer delight. The short carriage ride home passed swiftly, both of them gasping shallowly with barely enough forethought to cease their activity before the footman opened the door. The cold blast of winter air restored clarity sufficiently to enable them to ascend the staircases in relative calm.
The manor was dimly lit and quiet. A fire was smoldering in their bedchamber, but otherwise the room was dark. Darcy barely managed to keep his hands off his lovely wife during the long walk. He drew her back against his chest the moment they entered their room, latching the door simultaneously. His hands stroked voraciously over her hips and thighs as he delivered sensuous kisses along the silky nakedness of her neck and collarbone.
“Oh, my sweet, delicious wife. How is it possible to love and hunger for you more with each day that passes?” He suckled her earlobe. Lizzy moaned, pressing herself firmly against him. “You render me breathless with desire, my lover. So beautiful. Dancing with you was equally a pleasure and an agony.”