Needless to say, the newly married Mr. and Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy did not rise at their usual early hour the following morning. Having been intimately engaged in passionate occupations throughout the course of the night, sleep had no claim on them until the very first rays of dawn began to show themselves through the windows. Nestled together in an intimate embrace, with Darcy’s chest pressed firmly against Elizabeth’s back, they finally allowed themselves to succumb to exhaustion.
Some time after nine o’clock, Darcy awoke, still cradling Elizabeth in his arms. He inhaled deeply of her scent, which permeated his pillow, his counterpane, his entire body. He found the sight of her, with her tousled mane of curls and her creamy skin, intoxicating, and, no longer able to resist the feel of her body snuggled against his, Darcy feathered gentle kisses upon the woman sleeping so soundly in his arms. After kissing, caressing, and stroking Elizabeth into a state of desire, he made her his own once more, spilling his seed into her as he gasped her name against the curve of her neck. Then they slept again. Every few hours they would awaken, teasing, tasting, making love to one another, sometimes with exquisite care, sometimes with wild abandon. Afterward, both would collapse, breathless, their limbs entangled and their bodies slick and heaving from taking their pleasure.
When they finally abandoned the comfort of their bed, it was well past the noon hour, and having eaten very little the night before, Darcy rang for a tray to be brought to them in their sitting room. This experience was a new one for Elizabeth, who, having never before spent a full night, an entire morning, and part of an afternoon, cloistered in a bedchamber with Darcy, could not but feel somewhat awkward when she heard two servants enter the outer room.
There, they found a tray ladened with an assortment of delicacies. They partook of the bounty before them at a leisurely pace, Darcy hand-feeding her pieces of succulent fruit and Elizabeth teasing him with kisses upon his neck while he enjoyed a particularly heavenly chocolate torte. The dessert was soon abandoned in favor of far more satisfying fare, namely his wife, and they spent another hour or so unaware of anything beyond each other.
They lay spent, Elizabeth stroking her husband’s chest while he toyed with one of her long curls. Then he tilted his head closer to her and placed a kiss upon the top of her head. “What should you like to do this evening, Mrs. Darcy?” he asked in a lazy, contented voice.
She was thoughtful for a moment before responding with a laugh. “I believe, Mr. Darcy, that I should very much like to take a hot bath.”
“Mmm. An excellent idea,” he said. He kissed her again and then reluctantly rose. “Shall we use mine, then, or would you prefer we use the one in your rooms?” he asked as he slipped into his robe.
Elizabeth stared at him. “We? Do you mean to say that you intend to join me, sir?”
Darcy nodded.
“In my bath?” she asked, her tone incredulous and her brow raised nearly to her hairline.
“Yes,” he said, but then noticed her frown. “Surely this does not bother you?”
“I am surprised, that is all,” Elizabeth stammered. “I have never before shared my bath, Fitzwilliam.”
He returned to her and placed a kiss upon her lips as his hand caressed the softness of her cheek. “I am very relieved to hear it,” he said with a low growl and a roguish gleam in his eye. He kissed her again, this time more deeply, drawing forth a long sigh of satisfaction from Elizabeth after he released her. “Come, my wife,” he said, “and I shall attend you.”
The days immediately following the wedding were amongst the happiest Darcy and Elizabeth had ever known. The couple found great enjoyment being in one another’s society, spending an inordinate amount of time abovestairs in the master’s chambers, enraptured with one another. Quite unused to seeing the very proper and otherwise conventional master of Pemberley flouting even the most minuscule customs of propriety, the staff of Darcy House soon found themselves unprepared for the unguarded and rather amorous behavior they caught him engaging in with his pretty new wife in public locations throughout the house, including, but not limited to, stolen kisses and intimate embraces in the hallway abovestairs, in the conservatory, in the master’s study, in the breakfast parlor, in the music room, and in the library.
Not at all eager to embrace the prospect of receiving callers at Darcy House so soon after having installed his lovely bride to her rightful place within, the master gave strict instructions to Mrs. Hildebrandt and the rest of his staff that he and Mrs. Darcy were not at home to visitors, and therefore, under no circumstances, save for the gravest of family emergencies, were they to be disturbed by company until well into the new year. If left solely to Darcy, the couple would easily have remained sequestered for many weeks, nay, many months on end, however impractical that may have proven to have been.
While content to remain exclusively in her husband’s society, Elizabeth could not, in all good conscience, forego celebrating the Christmas holidays with her family so long as they chose to remain in London. Therefore, on the twenty-fourth of December, it was with no small degree of difficulty she finally managed to persuade her uncooperative and surprisingly petulant husband to dress for dinner and order their carriage to deliver them to Gracechurch Street. There, they would pass the evening in the most agreeable company of her aunt and uncle, father and eldest sister, and, for Darcy, at least, the almost unbearably trying company of her mother and three younger sisters.
As could be expected, dining once again with the Bennets was a lively affair, made even more so by the addition of Bingley, Georgiana, and the Gardiners’ four young children, all under the age of eight, whose excellent manners, incidentally, Darcy was not the least bit surprised to see far surpassed those of their elder cousin Lydia. Even after several days under the solicitous instruction and care of Lady Matlock, Lydia still appeared to be the same wild, flirtatious young woman she had been before; perhaps made even more so since Colonel Fitzwilliam was installed under the same roof, leading her to fancy herself enamored with him at all hours of the day and well into the night. Upon hearing her regale her mother with accounts of her outlandish escapades and machinations, all designed and executed at the expense of ensnaring the colonel, Darcy winced and fervently prayed that his cousin would not hold his outright denial for asylum in Darcy House against him. Indeed, his conscience was so guilt ridden that, should Colonel Fitzwilliam happen to show up on the doorstep later that very night begging his assistance, Darcy swore to himself he would permit his poor cousin occupancy for the duration of the Bennets’ stay in Town, even if it should be another month complete; though nothing, he suspected, would make up for the very great imposition of being the object of Lydia Bennet’s attentions.
Though they were a large party, Mrs. Gardiner chose to keep the dinner informal by leaving her guests to select their own seating arrangements, thus ensuring all in attendance were happily situated and at ease with their dinner partners. While Elizabeth was more than pleased to sit with her new sister to her right, Darcy was not so happy to have to relinquish the chair to her left to Mr. Bennet, who made a show of claiming the honor of his daughter’s company on the occasion. Fearing he would be left conversing with Mrs. Bennet, Mary Bennet, or, worse still, with an exuberant Kitty or Lydia, Darcy seized the opportunity of sitting beside Mr. Gardiner, with Jane to his left. With Bingley seated on her left, Darcy could hardly expect his sister-in-law to be an attentive dinner companion, but it hardly mattered, as he had found Elizabeth’s uncle far from wanting in that respect whenever he had been in company with him. Throughout the meal, they had intelligent discourse on all manner of subjects, oftentimes including Mrs. Gardiner in their discussions, who, to Darcy’s immense pleasure, seemed to be particularly knowledgeable and well informed on all aspects of her husband’s business affairs and political interests.
The entire party attended church services together at the cathedral located in the same area of town in which the Gardiners lived. Darcy was thankful for this arrangement, as it afforded Elizabeth and him some much-desired privacy—far more, he knew, than they would have received had they chosen to attend his own church near their neighborhood in Grosvenor Square, where many people knew him by sight, rather than by name and reputation alone. The service was very beautiful, and, not for the first time, Darcy found himself watching his wife, whose warm smile and glistening eyes were an indication of how moved she was by the miraculous spirit of the season. Darcy squeezed her hand and held fast to her until it was time to quit the church. Even then, he found himself willing to release her only until they had reached the privacy of their carriage, where he promptly took her in his arms and held her as the coach swayed and rocked over the cobbled streets on its way back to their Mayfair neighborhood.
By the time they arrived home, it was very late, and Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to retire to the warmth and comfort of Darcy’s arms. She quickly dressed for bed and joined him in his room, slipping beneath the counterpane to be enveloped by her husband’s embrace. She sighed in contentment as his lips caressed her curls. “How I have longed to have you to myself all evening,” he murmured against her hair. “You looked beautiful tonight in your crimson gown. I daresay you must have done it on purpose to torture me.”
Elizabeth let out a soft laugh as she snuggled against his chest. “Yes, I see you have finally figured it out, Fitzwilliam! No, my vanity will never again be satisfied with my being considered only tolerable. Heaven forbid you should once again find me ‘not handsome enough to tempt you’! As the wife of the formidable Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, it would be most unpardonable on my part. And you are now well aware that I loathe to be a cause of disappointment to you, my dearest husband.”
“You delight in teasing me, do you? Shall those wretched words never cease to haunt me, Elizabeth?” he asked with a rueful smile. Then, in a more serious tone, he said, “It was extremely ill-mannered of me to ever utter such an untruth. Though it is hardly an excuse, I fear I was far from being in a good humor that evening. I am afraid I was prepared to say anything to have Bingley leave me in peace, even at the risk of wounding the most beautiful young lady at the assembly.” His fingers skimmed over her shoulder, sending shivers of desire through Elizabeth. “I do not believe I have ever regretted saying anything more in my life than I have those words. Will you never forgive me?”
“My love”—she laughed lightly—“I hardly think I would have married you one week ago had I not already done so.” She tilted her head up to him in order to look upon his face. “Truly, Fitzwilliam, it has long been forgot; however, as your wife, I must reserve the right to tease you about it on occasion.”
“Apparently, it has not been long forgot, but very well, my lovely wife, if you insist, I must then reserve the right to do this on occasion.” He then leaned in to kiss her. “Do you object, Mrs. Darcy?” he whispered.
She swallowed and, with heavily lidded eyes, shook her head. “Who am I to object to something that brings us both such pleasure?”
“Elizabeth,” he said in a ragged voice, his eyes filled with desire, “you cannot possibly know the true extent of what loving you has done to me. You have become everything to me, Elizabeth—everything.”
He kissed her again, teasing her lips apart with his tongue so he could taste all the delights of her mouth as he clasped her body firmly against his. “Everything,” he breathed, over and over again. “Everything,” as he slowly eased her back onto the pillows and covered her body with his. “Everything,” as he tasted and tantalized her in all the ways he knew would bring her pleasure, and finally, a softly gasped, “Lizzy,” as he skillfully brought them both over the edge of their passion, the familiar, dizzying waves of ecstasy washing over them in a release so poignant, so powerful, it would cost them every remaining ounce of energy they possessed between them.
Elizabeth awoke the following morning to find Darcy observing her with an expression of contentment. She stretched and laid her hand upon his cheek, which, having not yet been shaven, felt delightfully abrasive. “Merry Christmas, Fitzwilliam,” she purred.
Darcy caressed her lips with his own. “Merry Christmas, my sweetest Elizabeth,” he murmured happily. Before he could return his lips to hers for another kiss, however, she gently pushed him away and sat up.
“I almost forgot! Wait right here, and do not leave before I return.” And with that, she threw back the counterpane, wrapped herself in her discarded dressing gown, and hurried to the door that joined her husband’s rooms with hers. She returned in a moment with a small, neatly wrapped box and handed it to Darcy with a look of delight as she climbed back under the covers.
“What is this?” he asked.
“It is a present, my dearest,” she replied, barely managing to contain her pleasure.
“Elizabeth, there is no need for you to give me any gifts.”
“Yes, I know, but I wanted to give you this gift. You have been so wonderful to me, and I merely wished to do something special for you in return. Now open it, Fitzwilliam, before Christmas is over and the New Year is upon us!”
Darcy smiled and began to remove the thick paper surrounding the box. He lifted the lid to find several gentlemen’s handkerchiefs, all embroidered with his monogram. He removed them and was about to compliment her on the fine quality of her workmanship, when he beheld a beautifully painted miniature of his beloved wife staring up at him, a glint of mischief in her eyes, which the artist had captured to perfection. “Elizabeth! This is absolutely exquisite. It is exactly what I have most desired, after having been so fortunate as to acquire the original, of course,” he said with a grin. “Thank you. I shall carry it with me and treasure it always.”
Elizabeth beamed. “You are very welcome. I was hoping you would.”
Darcy ran his finger over the glass covering the miniature, caressing with tenderness the tiny version of his wife. “It is truly an excellent likeness of you. Did you sit for it while you have been in London?”
Elizabeth smiled. “No, I had it framed in London. I sat for it when I was still in Hertfordshire.”
“Hertfordshire? May I ask the name of the artist?”
“Bennet,” she replied.
It was not what Darcy had expected to hear. “Bennet?”
“My sister Kitty has many talents aside from that of chasing after poor, unsuspecting officers with Lydia. She was very pleased to do it and took great pleasure in the knowledge that it would be my gift to you. I believe she has never before concentrated so much of her effort on one tiny painting!”
“It is a small masterpiece. I had no idea Katherine was so gifted. She would benefit greatly from having a London master, do not you think?”
“That she would, indeed; however, my parents hardly have the means to support such an endeavor.”
Darcy looked at her with a twinkle in his eye. “And are you not the mistress of Pemberley, Mrs. Darcy? Surely, we can well afford to have your sister stay with us in Town and forward her education.”
Elizabeth kissed him soundly. “You are truly a generous man, Fitzwilliam.”
He laughed. “Yes, I certainly am!” He removed himself from her embrace and left the bed to procure a small, elegantly wrapped parcel from his own dressing room. When he returned, he presented it to Elizabeth with a flourish and resumed his place beside her under the counterpane.
Without ceremony, she eagerly tore off the wrapping, exclaiming with pleasure at the delicately painted porcelain box she cradled in her hands.
Darcy lifted the hinged lid, and a beautiful melody began to fill the room. Elizabeth smiled as he explained, “It is a waltz. It is still considered quite scandalous in England, but I assure you it is very popular in Austria. A gentleman and a lady twirl and glide across the dance floor, holding one another quite close. It is very beautiful to watch but, I daresay, highly inappropriate.” He smiled as he gave her a penetrating look of longing. “I am determined to dance with you someday while I hold you in my arms, Elizabeth. No doubt, it will bring me immense pleasure.”
She placed the music box upon the nightstand and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Well, until then, sir, perhaps you will allow me to bring you immense pleasure in some other way?”
“I would by no means wish to suspend any pleasure of yours, Mrs. Darcy.”
Christmas day at the Fitzwilliams’ home in Berkeley Square was, most unfortunately, a far cry from the pleasurable evening Darcy and Elizabeth had spent with her family in Gracechurch Street the night before. Though Elizabeth did experience many enjoyable moments conversing with Georgiana, Lord and Lady Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam, and his brothers, she found very little pleasure in the society of Lady Catherine de Bourgh, who also happened to be in attendance with her daughter, Anne.
Contrary to Elizabeth’s expectations, Darcy’s cousin proved to be quite the opposite of her mother—slight and frail, extremely pale, and almost sickly in appearance. She spoke very little to anyone, or rather, Lady Catherine did not permit her to voice more than a few syllables before interrupting. Elizabeth noticed Miss de Bourgh’s sickly pallor took on a crimson hue, not only whenever her mother treated her in such an unfeeling and controlling manner, but also whenever she happened to attempt to malign Elizabeth and even Darcy, for what she deemed his inappropriate choice of wife. Though she was a young woman of very large fortune and the sole heiress to Rosings Park, which Elizabeth had understood from Mr. Collins’s accounts to be a very grand estate, Elizabeth could not help but feel pity for Miss de Bourgh. In spite of her obvious wealth, her life seemed to hold little in the way of pleasure.
It was evident by the dark scowl he wore for most of the day that Darcy was by no means enjoying himself. Lord and Lady Matlock did their utmost to deflect Lady Catherine’s bitter expression and scathing remarks from their intended target—her new niece—but, as that great lady was not a woman used to being gainsaid, they were not entirely successful in their endeavors.
There was one moment, however, that brought Elizabeth unexpected comfort. Anne de Bourgh, who was forever under the constant observation and scrutiny of her imperious mother, had taken great pains to secure a moment alone with her cousin’s new wife, with the assistance of Georgiana and Lady Matlock. They found themselves in a small parlor abovestairs, and though a bit awkward at first, the meeting did not remain so for long as Anne, who had confessed to not being in the best of health, proclaimed her sincere delight upon having learned of Darcy’s marriage.
“My dear Mrs. Darcy,” she said in a demure voice, “I am thrilled for you both. I have long hoped Fitzwilliam would find a woman who would make him truly happy, as I have always known he and I have never shared my mother’s misdirected opinion that we could find felicity with each other. We are both of such a taciturn, unsocial nature and, therefore, in desperate need of marital companions who will bring us some liveliness.” She bowed her head then and said, with some emotion, “Do you think you could ever find it within your heart to forgive me for my mother’s unjust treatment of you, Mrs. Darcy? I have been greatly distressed since I first learnt of it and have been increasingly more so after witnessing her abominable behavior toward you today, as well.”
Taking pity upon her, Elizabeth touched the back of Miss de Bourgh’s hands, which were clasped tightly upon her lap. “Miss de Bourgh, I can hardly hold you accountable for your mother’s ill treatment of me. Please, think upon it no longer. I should dearly like for us to be friends.”
Miss de Bourgh raised her head and looked upon the new Mrs. Darcy with such an expression of appreciation and relief that Elizabeth had to smile. “Thank you. I should like that very much. I have had very little opportunity to form many friendships of my own choosing, and I believe your society would be a most enjoyable change of venue for me.”
The two ladies, unfortunately, were to have only a few more minutes of each other’s company before they were interrupted by Georgiana, who informed them that Lady Catherine was beginning to grow anxious over Anne’s whereabouts. They parted, however, with the plan of corresponding with each other through Lady Matlock, so as not to invoke the wrath of Lady Catherine. Elizabeth remained abovestairs after Georgiana had led Anne back to her mother. She was relieved to have found Miss de Bourgh to be the complete opposite of Lady Catherine. She smiled as she recalled the sincerity and kindness of her address and the happiness she had shown when Elizabeth had offered her friendship.
There was a knock upon the door then, and without waiting for a reply, Lady Matlock stepped into the room with a warm smile. “So, my dear, I understand you and Anne are to become good friends?”
Elizabeth returned her smile and nodded. “Yes. I must confess I am relieved to find her extremely amiable and kind. I was happy to make her acquaintance. Though I never doubted Fitzwilliam’s assurances his cousin would not be offended by his choosing me, I could not help but worry over meeting Miss de Bourgh, particularly after her mother had made such a strong impression upon me!”
Lady Matlock approached her. “You astound me, Elizabeth, with your ability to laugh over such shocking recollections. However do you manage it?”
Elizabeth shrugged and said, “I cannot say, but I have always found it is far better to laugh than to cry in some situations—one of the rare bits of knowledge I gleaned from my mother! Very often she would say or do something mortally embarrassing, which would bring a blush to my face; however, rather than crying over it, I would simply think instead of something to make myself laugh. I daresay the same philosophy shall help me greatly when moving in London society. I hear the ladies of the ton can be extremely formidable!”
Lady Matlock laughed. “Yes, to be sure they can. You do realize, I hope, that Henry and I will always value and appreciate you, Elizabeth. You have brought such joy to Fitzwilliam. He has known so much sorrow and loneliness since the passing of his dear parents that we cannot help but love you, as well. Whether Catherine comes to accept you or not, we shall strive to protect you from her cruelty.”
Lady Matlock directed her to a small sofa across the room, and Elizabeth said, “I can almost feel sorry for her. She must have suffered cruelly at one time in order to have so very few scruples about making others feel wretched.”
They sat for several minutes until Lady Matlock shook her head and said, “You are an insightful young woman, Elizabeth.” She then gave her a meaningful look and reached for her hands. “I am going to share something with you, something I believe may better help you to understand my sister-in-law. You see, Catherine has suffered a disappointment in her past, and I am afraid it has had a lasting effect on her. Did you know she is the elder sister of Fitzwilliam’s mother, Anne?”
“Yes, I have been given to understand that. She is Lord Matlock’s elder sister, is she not?”
Lady Matlock nodded. “What you will not know, for I doubt very much even my nephew is aware of this, is when Catherine and Anne were hardly more than girls, they were introduced to Sir Lewis de Bourgh, who was considerably older than they. Though he found both sisters to be beautiful, he immediately became enchanted by Anne’s wit and vivacity. He wished to marry her, but Anne did not return his regard. Sir Lewis then applied to her father, but he would not hear of it, as Anne was his particular favorite, not to mention still quite young—especially for a man nearly fifteen years her senior. Sir Lewis vowed to wait for her until she was of a more acceptable age to receive his suit, but was devastated when she became engaged not two years later to George Darcy, who was much younger and utterly devoted to Anne in much the same way her son is devoted to you, my dear. Catherine, also, was discontented with the match, as it was long suspected she was in love with George. After Anne’s marriage, Sir Lewis settled on Catherine instead, though Henry has often wondered whether she accepted him more for his title and connections than for the man himself.
“It was not a happy union, made even less so by the undisguised bliss Anne and George had found together and refused to hide from society. It was obvious Sir Lewis still desired her, though he was no longer quite so open about it, at least not unless he had been drinking. When Fitzwilliam was born, Sir Lewis felt it as a personal blow. Not long afterward, Catherine gave birth to a little girl, and though she protested vehemently, her husband insisted on naming her after Catherine’s sister. It made Catherine bitter, a bitterness that rules over her to this very day.”
Elizabeth raised her hand to her lips, and Lady Matlock continued, “Sir Lewis doted on his daughter as he surely would have doted on her namesake. He had never doted on his wife, and Catherine continued to grow increasingly angry over his inattention whenever they were in company. In the meantime, Anne Darcy had suffered several failed pregnancies, which left her vulnerable to bouts of illness. Finally, when Georgiana was born, Anne’s body was simply too weak to continue to sustain her life. When word of her failing health reached Rosings, Sir Lewis was beside himself and determined to go to her, despite the evident jealousy and displeasure of his wife, who flatly refused to visit her sister. They argued, and he left in the middle of the night for Pemberley. He had not ridden five miles beyond Rosings when he was thrown from his horse. His injuries were fatal.”
“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.