Page 101 of The Scarred Duchess
Lydia took Georgiana’s hand. “There is no one so admired as Jane.”
“Although Jane has always been the perfect beauty to us, she has not always been as flawless in the eyes of society,” replied Mary.
Kitty turned her sketch-book to show her drawing. She had captured Jane perfectly. Her golden tresses. Her blue eyes. Her ruby lips. And across that perfect face were two angry, blood-red crevasses—one from her forehead across her nose, the other from her cheek to her chin.
“I have never seen something so beautiful and at the same time, so beastly.” Georgiana gasped and coveredher mouth. Reaching to grasp Jane’s hand, she said, “Forgive me. I never knew.”
Jane pulled Georgiana into an embrace as she went on, “You are all so brave, so wonderful.”
“As you shall be,” replied Mary.
“How do you know?”
Georgiana looked at Elizabeth, who smiled sweetly before replying, “Because you shall be our sister, and all Bennet sisters are brave and wonderful.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
The March sun cast a warm glow over their faces as the Darcy carriage rolled through the busy town lane. The carriage wheels creaked and groaned, creating a steady rhythm that usually lulled Darcy into a trance. This day—his wedding day—it did nothing of the sort. He was married. To Elizabeth!
The ceremony had been interminably long.To be a vicar, one must enjoy the sound of one’s own voice.
He looked at his forefinger and the ink stain from having signed the wedding registry. A very welcome parting gift. Darcy turned his attention to Elizabeth, who sat next to him, her eyes fixed on the gold ring adorning her finger. His wife. He could not help but stare at her delicate features, the way the sunlight caught the caramel strands of her hair and made them shimmer. She seemed lost in thought, her lips slightly lifted as she turned the ring over and over, as if trying to decipher some hidden meaning. He wondered what was going through her mind.
“Mrs Elizabeth Darcy,” she whispered.
“Why do you whisper?” He whispered all but the final word, which he emphasised. “Is it your plan to have all of our circle speak our name in a hushed voice?”
“Mrs Elizabeth Darcy,” she replied, in a mockingly haughty manner.
“Pardon me, madam. What was that you said? I could not make it out.”
Elizabeth turned to him, her perfect smile radiant. His breath hitched. What a glorious creature his wife was!
“Mrs Elizabeth Darcy,” she repeated, pronouncing her new surname loudly.
He offered his hand; she placed hers in it. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mrs Darcy.”
He kissed the ring on her hand and was pleased by her sigh of pleasure.
A few nights later, the new Mrs Darcy sat before the library’s fiery hearth, which cast a warm glow on the walls and dancing shadows across the Persian carpets. A random popping log was the only sound that interrupted, but did not infringe, upon the pleasant silence of the room, nor her new husband’s concentration. A fatigued Elizabeth, on the other hand, had surrendered readingMuch Ado About Nothing; instead, she raised her favourite of the bard’s comedies up higher and utilised it like a fan, hiding her face as she gazed at the vision sitting opposite her.
Darcy sat in his favourite armchair, a leather-bound book in his lap, lost in his reading. Elizabeth watched him smile, furrow his brow, and even lift an eyebrow. He was a handsome sight, with his dark hair falling slightly over his foreheadand his strong jaw displaying a hint of the beard he had his man shave each morning. She could not help but admire him, and he was hers!
As if sensing her interest, Darcy looked up from his book and met her gaze. His eyes narrowed and his pupils widened. She knew that look. She swallowed, the spark of desire lighting within her. She lifted an eyebrow.
“Is there something on your mind, husband?” She set her book down.
He set his aside and continued to stare. She gave in to the tingling in her chest. She rubbed her palms with her fingertips, massaging the damp.
“There is,” he paused, “wife.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes and let his baritone envelop her. She opened them as he sat next to her on the fainting couch. She leant into him; he wrapped his long arms around her and pulled her to his chest. She inhaled audibly and sighed aloud. “This seat is accurately named.”
He leant in closer, their noses touching, his voice low and teasing. “Is that so, Mrs. Darcy? Perhaps I should test your theory.”
Their faces mere inches apart, Elizabeth could feel his warm breath on her skin. She embraced the now familiar, very welcome thrill running through her at his closeness. His lips hovered over hers. But just as their lips were about to meet, her book fell to the floor with a muted thud. Darcy leant back, a small smile playing on his lips.
“I believe someone is trying to interrupt ourquietevening, my dear,” he said, his eyes sparkling with amusement.
