Page 56 of Saved By Mr. Darcy
She inhaled deeply, trying to relax her body. Her leg ached, the muscles tight and painful. She leaned down to rub at it through her dress, but that only served to irritate her more. Her clothes, which had only moments before fitted her perfectly, suddenly felt too tight, the room too hot.
“I am broken in her eyes.”
He shook his head, turning around and walking to her. She could not protest that he should not see her, for he had already done so. She found his presence, as she always did, to be a great comfort. His scent filled her, the smell of soap and the fine cologne he wore for special occasions a balm that soothed her nerves. He knelt by her side as he so often did, preferring to speak to her eye to eye. He took her hand in his, lifting it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss to her knuckles.
“Do not let your mother’s ignorance upset you today.”
“I have shared the same view of myself, in the darkest part of the night. To hear it come from my own mother…to know at last how little she cares for me…”
Her voice wobbled, and she swallowed hard. Fitzwilliam squeezed her hand gently.
“She is wrong. She is wrong in all she says, but most of all in her treatment of you.”
She did not need him to tell her that; she saw her mother for precisely what she was, and had done before this whole terrible business. Soon, she would be free of the bonds that tied her to her mother should she wish it. And that was the worst part - she did not know if she wished it at all. Some small part of her loved her mother and always would.
“And if I cannot bear your children? What then?”
His brow creased, his head cocking to the side for a moment like a curious dog. She smiled fondly, cupping his cheek with her palm. She thought her heart may burst with love for him, for the very idea she had put forward seemed to confuse him greatly.
“The doctor has expressed no such concern. Couples remain childless for all manner of reasons. I do not care about heirs; I want you, Elizabeth. Just you.”
“And I want you,” she smiled. She gave a tearful laugh. “She has not advised me on the wedding night. Whatever will I do?”
Darcy smiled softly, a sight she would never tire of. Cupping her cheek, he leant down and kissed her softly. He pressed his forehead to hers, their noses touching as they held each other for the final time as Miss Elizabeth and Mr Darcy.
“I believe that we shall know just what to do.”
Chapter Fifteen
Darcy was certain there had never been a bride as exquisite as his Elizabeth
Her gown was fine white muslin, the fabric embroidered with pretty summer flowers. She clutched a bouquet of pale pink Pemberley roses, the last of the summer’s bloom. Her smile was the most noticeable thing about her, her eyes shining as she moved down the aisle pushed in her chair by her father.
He was sure he would hear her sweet voice saying “I do” in his happiest dreams for the rest of his life.
After the celebrations were over and the guests began to drift away, Darcy went to his bedchamber to prepare. There was an empty bedroom next to his intended for the Mistress of Pemberley, but for now it remained empty as Elizabeth needed to remain downstairs. He was unsure of the etiquette; he could hardly walk the halls of Pemberley in a state of undress with the dozens of guests in residence. He wished Elizabeth was merely on the other side of the adjoining door, so that he might invite her into his room and have her in his bed as he’d dreamed.
He removed his clothes, washing thoroughly at the basin as his thoughts drifted away. When he was clean and dry, he redressedin full. He had dismissed his valet this evening, not wishing for the interference. He looked at his pocket watch; ten o’clock. He had not intended for the evening to last so long - he did not know why it was called a wedding breakfast, when it seemed to last all day and well into the night.
He decided he had waited long enough, leaving his room and walking hurriedly to Elizabeth’s. The corridors were mercifully empty, and he reached the Blue Room in what was surely a record time. He knocked on the door.
“Come in,” Elizabeth’s voice rang back immediately.
He opened the door, stepping in and closing it hastily behind him.
“I thought you had fallen asleep,” Lizzy smiled. “I have been waiting for you.”
“I’m sorry, I…”
His words fell away from him as he caught sight of her. She sat on the bed atop the covers. Her hair tumbled free over her shoulders, the cascading curls framing her beautiful face. She looked at him with a fond smile, seemingly unaware of how ravishing she looked in this moment. She wore a nightgown he had not seen before, presumably part of her trousseau. It was cut far lower than her other garments, the swell of her breasts poorly hidden - the fabric almost sheer in the candlelight.
“My God,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look…”
“Would you undress, husband?” she asked softly, her gaze flicking over him from head to toe. “You have not even removed your cravat.”
His hand rose to feel the fabric at his throat. He pinched it between two fingers and tugged; he had not tied it properly, and it came away at once. Lizzy laughed in delight, beckoning him forward with a crook of her fingers.
“My shoes,” he said. “It would not do to dirty our marital bed.”
