“How awful!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Poor Miss de Bourgh, to be left solely to the care of such a resentful parent, and Lady Catherine, to be left alone with a daughter who would always remind her of her husband’s steadfast devotion to another woman. Though I cannot help but feel a certain sympathy for Sir Lewis de Bourgh for falling hopelessly in love with a woman who could not return his regard, I can hardly agree with his decision to marry poor Lady Catherine in her stead. Of what could he have been thinking, I wonder?”
Lady Matlock smiled. “I hardly know, but I see you have already begun to take pity upon Catherine.”
Elizabeth was thoughtful for many moments. “It is not so easy to forgive her for saying such hurtful things aimed purposefully to wound, but I do pity her. How can I not when I am married to such an extraordinary man of whose regard I have daily proof? It makes me wonder, though, why Lady Catherine would ever wish to promote a union between her daughter and the son of her sister.”
“I believe it would have given her a certain perverse satisfaction to see her sister’s beloved son, whom I imagine she cannot help but favor, as he is so very much like his excellent father, bound to her own daughter. I believe she viewed the idea of a union between them as a sort of victory for herself, in the sense that she would have gained access to a portion of what she felt would have rightfully been hers had George Darcy only returned her regard: Pemberley.” Lady Matlock hesitated a moment. “I can only hope she does not carry her displeasure regarding your marriage beyond our family circle. I would hate to see her abuse you, Elizabeth, and make it difficult to establish yourself in society.”
Elizabeth frowned. “I have no doubt she will abuse me to all Fitzwilliam’s relations, but would she truly be so unscrupulous, do you think, to relate her malicious rumors to those outside of her family circle?”
Lady Matlock smiled sadly. “For your sake, and for Anne’s, I would like to think Catherine above such machinations; however, when one is bitter and used to behaving bitterly, I cannot so easily discount such unfeeling behavior.”
They were joined shortly thereafter by Darcy. “Lady Matlock, you have been keeping my wife to yourself this last hour. It is most ungenerous of you.”
Both ladies smiled and made to stand, but just as Elizabeth was about to reach him, she felt light-headed. She grabbed a chair to steady herself, but not before she was observed by Darcy, who was at her side immediately. Putting his arms about her, he asked, “Elizabeth, dearest, you are unwell?” Lady Matlock observed her with a mixture of concern and curiosity.
“No. I believe I am fine now. I felt a little dizzy a moment ago, but it has passed. Perhaps I am tired, Fitzwilliam. We were out very late last night, and I did not get much sleep.”
“Yes, perhaps, my dear.” It was Lady Matlock who spoke. “Why do you not lie down for a while? Fitzwilliam, you can take her to the blue room. I believe there is a fire in the grate. I will send a pot of tea, which I have found to be particularly soothing when I have experienced similar symptoms.”
“Thank you, Aunt, but, if you do not mind, I believe I would prefer to return home now.”
Lady Matlock smiled kindly. “Of course, my dear. Go home and rest yourself in the comfort of your own rooms, and perhaps, we might meet later this week for tea.”
Elizabeth offered her a warm smile. “I would like that very much. I truly enjoy your company. In the few short weeks I have known you, you have made me feel very welcome. I cannot thank you enough for all you have done for me.”
“You are very welcome.” She embraced her new niece then and, with a meaningful look, said, “Take particularly good care of yourself, Elizabeth, and should you need anything, anything at all, I sincerely hope you will not hesitate to approach me.”
Darcy thanked his aunt and, still very much concerned over his wife’s spell of dizziness, closely attended her until they reached the privacy of their carriage, where he could finally take her into his arms and hold her.
Elizabeth surrendered herself quite willingly to the solicitous care of her husband, ever thankful for his unparalleled devotion.
Chapter 22
The Darcys remained quietly at home until the following Saturday, when Elizabeth’s family was to leave London. They met for an elegant breakfast at the home of Lord and Lady Matlock—the Bennets, the Gardiners, the Darcys, and Bingley. As a special treat for their two eldest nieces, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner invited Jane to extend her stay in Town and to reside with them in Gracechurch Street, ensuring she would meet often with her beloved Bingley without the well-intentioned interference they had been receiving daily from Mrs. Bennet. This was met with great pleasure by everyone, especially Bingley, who felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude to the Gardiners, both for their invitation and their guarantee of constant admittance to their home.
The following Monday saw Lady Matlock, Mrs. Gardiner, Jane, and Georgiana calling on Elizabeth. Unfortunately, Darcy happened to be in the middle of attempting to persuade his wife to return with him to their room for an amorous interlude when the ladies were announced. To his further annoyance, Elizabeth invited them all to stay for luncheon, and afterward, she and Georgiana took great delight in entertaining everyone with lively duets. Their entire visit, which spanned from late morning until nearly tea time, drove Darcy practically mad.
By the time the ladies finally left, Elizabeth could hardly hold her laughter in check.
Darcy was far from sharing her amusement. “Madam, if I did not know better, I would believe you to have arranged the events of this day solely to vex me.”
“Really, Fitzwilliam”—she smiled—“you do have a remarkable imagination!”
Darcy sat upon the couch and sulked.
“You should have seen the expression on your face when I invited your aunt to stay to luncheon,” she said with a giggle. “You looked positively wretched, my dear.”
“Elizabeth, it is hardly a laughing matter. A man could come to great harm by repressing his ardent desire for his wife.”
“Oh! Is that so?” she asked with a slightly raised brow, failing miserably at assuming a more serious countenance.
“Well,” Darcy mumbled with no small degree of ill humor, “it certainly felt that way today.”
Elizabeth smiled seductively and positioned herself on his lap, her fingers exploring his shoulders, snaking their way around his neck and toying with his impeccably tied cravat. “My poor, poor husband. How selfish and unfeeling a wife I have been to you. While I have passed a delightful afternoon in the company of our most excellent relations, you have sacrificed your physical well-being for my pleasure. How shall I ever make it up to you, Mr. Darcy?”
Her impertinence could not but please him. Indeed, he had always reveled in her teasing. “I hardly know, Mrs. Darcy,” he pouted, “but I daresay it will require a very significant amount of time to accomplish.”
“Well, then, my dear,” she said, “I do believe we should begin immediately, if we are to be on time for supper.”
To Darcy, who had been more than willing to oblige her at any given moment throughout the duration of the afternoon, this was all the invitation he required, and he entwined his fingers somewhat roughly in Elizabeth’s hair, disturbing the many jeweled hairpins that held it securely in place, scattering them upon the couch and on the carpet. His mouth met hers in a desperate kiss that revealed every ounce of his pent-up desire. Elizabeth felt his hands upon her body—touching, stroking, kneading, demanding—claiming every inch of her as his own. It seemed as if he could not get enough of her, and it thrilled her to see the potent hunger in his eyes when he finally released her lips to draw a deep, staggering breath.