Page 54 of Pemberley's Imposter
“Get out of here!”
“I cannot leave you with a madman!” the stubborn woman protested.
When books began to fly in her direction, he fended them off with his hands until the footmen arrived, roused from their positions throughout Pemberley’s vast house by the uproar emanating from the library. After a short altercation, the colonel was quickly restrained.
“Tie him up and lock him in the cellar. Place a couple of armed footmen outside his cell and two more outside Miss Darcy’s chamber. As her guardian, he might try to influence my sister against me. On second thoughts, if he breaks free, you have my permission to shoot him.”
Darcy looked each footman in the eyes and waited until they had assented to his demands.
“Edward, you must ride to Matlock immediately and fetch the earl. Tell him it is an emergency and that his presence is required at Pemberley.”
Darcy secured the colonel with a knee in his back. He released him when his hands and legs were sufficiently bound together and sought out his wife, who was still standing slumped against the bookshelf. With no thought about propriety or the opinion of his servants, he lifted her into his arms and carried her out of the library and up the stairs. He did not release her until he had reached his chamber. He placed her on the edge of the bed and knelt before her. Her trembling had not abated on the entire trip through Pemberley’s passages, and her overwrought countenance tugged at his heartstrings.
“I am so sorry,” she sobbed while the tears she had been holding ran down her cheeks. “What you must think of me…”
“I am thinking you have been grievously accosted by my reprobate of a cousin. I did not gainsay him at first because I wanted to know the purpose of his atrocious behaviour.”
Should he tell Elizabeth about his dream? She might believe it was far-fetched and absurd, or that he was quite insane…
“I do not understand,” she admitted. Her eyes were fixed on the floor, and her fingers worried her lips.
He could well imagine her disbelief; he hardly understood it himself. It was to be hoped that the next day would be enlightening. Especially the interview he was to have with his cousin and uncle. He could not explain it to Elizabeth without revealing his dream, and if he did, she might think him soft in the head. It was best she did not know the tormenting outcome of his unconscious vision. It would be his lot to bear what horrors might have happened had he not trusted his wife to the detriment of his cousin. In comparison to his lifelong friendship with the colonel, their acquaintance had been short but educational. There was no doubt in his mind that Elizabeth was honest; her response to his disastrous proposal at Hunsford was proof she spoke her mind. Her attachments were fierce, and her loyalty was absolute. She would walk for miles through the mud to tend her ill sister or defend a brief acquaintance if she perceived that an injustice had been done. Once in her good graces, you had a staunch friend, and he liked to regard himself as something even more important—her love.
Elizabeth had been timid, at first, when their love was new and intimacy an untrodden path. Her innocence was unquestionable. But time and familiarity had brought forward the passionate siren he had sensed beneath her maidenlysensibilities. Her touch had become brave and exploring ere long. He could not imagine ever finding a better lover…or friend.
“When I spotted you in the arms of the colonel, time slowed, and I managed to think a thousand thoughts at once. I admit that one of those thoughts will deprive you of your high opinion of me, but I believe that complete honesty is necessary to build trust. I questioned your timidity at the beginning of our intimate relationship. For a split second I wondered whether your resentment had not vanished but had been masterfully concealed.”
Elizabeth gasped, and Darcy tightened his grip around her, concerned he had taken his honesty too far, but Elizabeth reciprocated the fierce hold and clutched him to her.
“We are so alike, you and I. Each harbours the same diffidence and may need confirmation now and again, spoken aloud rather than shown through affection,” Elizabeth suggested.
Darcy was relieved she was not angry with him but understood his sentiments with perfect accuracy. He was shaken to the core and desperately needed her affirmation.
“I was embarrassed, at first, because of the newness and my ignorance. I solemnly swear that my resentment is in the past and is best forgotten. I have loved you for so long now that I hardly remember who I was before Fitzwilliam Darcy strutted into my life. You must purge such horrendous thoughts from your mind because I am far from resenting you. I may not tell you often enough, but I do love you, Fitzwilliam. Even when I am cross with you, I love you. I love you the most when I am cross because you are always so calm, and you smooth my indignation with patience and reason.”
Darcy kissed her lightly whilst a profound peace settled within.
“Thank you, dearest. I needed to hear your declaration of love spoken aloud,” he admitted earnestly.
Elizabeth kissed his hand and lay it on her cheek before looking deeply into his eyes. What he saw in the windows of her soul eased the last of his concerns. With his fears put to rest, fatigue overcame him, and Elizabeth must have noticed.
“We have had a long and eventful night. May I suggest we retire?”
He nodded, divesting himself of only the tight coat and waistcoat before he crawled into bed. Elizabeth chuckled and removed her robe whilst shaking her head in mirthful opposition.
“I shall remove these because they itch,” she declared before helping him out of his breeches.
He had no strength left to protest the slight against his expensive attire. Instead, Darcy showed his gratitude by lifting his buttocks at the crucial moment to help her. Next, she untied his cravat—an item he had forgotten about that would surely have strangled him during the course of the night if his wife had not had the wherewithal to remove it. Elizabeth flung the silky piece of cloth to the floor and settled into his open arms. With their limbs intertwined, they both fell promptly asleep.
#
Darcy woke at dawn, feeling rejuvenated. No more words had been spoken, but peace pervaded his essence. Elizabeth lay in the crook of his arm, a leg arrayed across his lower extremities while an arm was tightly woven around his chest. He kissed the top of her head, and her arm tightened; she was awake.
Images of the previous night’s torment flashed before his inner eye. Hesitant, he lifted her face with a finger under her chin and touched her lips tentatively with his. Softly and tenderly, he kissed her once more, revelling at her not pulling away from him, and hope surged that his cousin’s abuse had not left any lasting harm.
She never pulled back or flinched at his touch. A deep and profound understanding was blooming like spring after a harsh winter.
There was still much unpleasantness left to be addressed, but with Elizabeth by his side, Darcy could countenance whatever fate decided to throw at him. Even his mad cousin, who was tied up in his cellar, and the enraged uncle he would have to face in what was most likely going to be an epic argument. But joy and happiness were equally within his grasp, with the hope that Elysande was already growing beneath his wife’s breast. Time would tell…
