To the Advantage of Both -- Chapter 01a

By Ann2

Authors note: Fluff-lovers wherever you are. Perhaps you thought I was gone but I am still at it and have decided that Perfectly Amiable ends with the last post from the last century. New century = new story - same old couple. Happy New Year! ; ) When we begin our story it is only one day later. [ Hey, Carolyn. This note is not to be archived but if you would `put an end' to PA I'd be grateful.]

Chapter I part A

Slowly regaining consciousness Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy turned her head and cautiously opened one eye to gaze towards the pillow next to her own. A profile that had become well known of late beneath a thick tangle of dark curls usually more orderly, sufficed to assure her it was not just a dream. That would have been a wonderful dream though. A small creasing of her mouth was provoked by the continuation of her pleasurable speculations. Not that its being reality does in any way lessen its delight. I have had no reason to doubt his love and was aware of his warmest affection, but ....

Elizabeth placed the palms of her hands against her cheeks as if to feel if the warm blush of happiness from yesterday was still there. She also sent an indulgent thought to the memory of her past silliness. Why was I so uneasy? As if I did not know him and somehow expected him to behave like a fearsome beast! The reminiscences from the past night, all seemingly permeated by her husband's gentleness, made her sigh and huddle up embracing herself before she rolled over to observe that same husband more closely. He slept so peacefully, it was difficult to comprehend this was the same man who had made passionate love to her last night.

There was no denying that she had got to know him better and the intensified discovery of his character had not been disagreeable in the least. She pulled the cover up to her nose with a secretive smile as her thoughts wandered, dwelling briefly on dizzying recollections of those unequalled eyes, that fervent voice and those tender hands. His mouth …, another sigh escaped her and her gaze hesitantly sought his lips. Now in his sleep they were relaxed, looking deceptively soft, yet she knew better. Her mouth formed an o as she breathed a kiss against the sheet. I never knew kisses could be so different. I so liked how he kissed me …and the way he whispered in my hair. Oh, I believe I treasure almost everything he does.

She laughed inwardly, knowing herself to be completely infatuated with Fitzwilliam Darcy. My beloved husband! She listened to the serene rhythm of his breathing. On the pillow between them lay his left hand, its palm turned upwards, forming a bowl with the softly cupped fingers. As with his lips, she was attracted by the fascinating blend of strength and defencelessness. Imitating the cup she edged her own hand gingerly inside his and, as she imagined the suggestion of a soft pressure, closed her eyes with a contented exhalation. The conclusion arrived at ere she dozed off to sleep was that once he was with her, happiness had been prevailing over any passing anxiety and that the worst had been waiting for him.

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Yes, she was uneasy. She was in no mood to enjoy the luxury and comfort of her new dressing-room though she had washed her face in a silver basin and had the water poured into it from a delicate pitcher of Sčvres porcelain. Further spoilt by the prompt assistance of a private maid in changing from her wedding clothes she was now seated at a rococo dressing table about to have her coiffure redone.

Had it not been for the fidgets of her own mind, Elizabeth would have relished in the snug crackling from the dressing room's minor fireplace and the soothing sensation of Ellen's deft fingers removing hairpins and loosening locks of hair that had been put up to fit the wedding bonnet. But alas, she was experiencing some strange sensations in the area of her heart; it was beating irregularly. I do hope, I have not succumbed to anything as embarrassing as a flutter. Rather ashamed by such lack of composure she forced herself to inhale deeply and sought a diversion by engaging in thoughts of the wedding arrangements. The initial ambitious plans of her mother were recalled and compared to what had actually taken place. She had just arrived at the grateful conclusion that it had all turned out very well - especially considering what she and Jane had been prepared to endure - when the hitherto reticent girl quite surprisingly opened her mouth.

`If you allow me to say so, Mrs Darcy … .'

She broke off her work to look hesitantly at her new mistress. Elizabeth's thoughts slowly reverted to the present and she met her maid's gaze, fleetingly noticing its mixture of eagerness and shyness.

`Yes, Ellen! Do speak, please.'

A short pause followed while Ellen Bradley summoned her courage. When she spoke, the words came stumbling over each other and her gaze alternated between the brown curly head of the young woman before her and the kind expression on the face framed by those curls. Her thin hands fluttered like butterflies above the aromatic blossoms only occasionally and lightly touching a soft braid to emphasise her words.

`It would be a shame to undo these carefully done braids … the flowers have been intertwined with such skill and … only my opinion of course - if you care to hear it, ma'am. As was to be expected they have loosened somewhat during the day so that they are not likely to bother you. May I leave them?'

A pink spot appeared on each cheek while she awaited the opinion of her mistress, worriedly wondering if she had perhaps been too talkative, too bold. She held her breath where she stood with the comb expectantly in the air.

Pleased that her maid had ideas of her own, vaguely sensing that she had expressed them only after considerable struggle with herself, and eager to encourage any future initiatives, Elizabeth smiled reassuringly towards the girl's reflection, before she took a closer look at her own head in the mirror and saw that Ellen was right. The white flowers looked like stars in her hair. They were quite … becoming. She blushed faintly to think that way when she was getting ready for bed and, in consideration of her maid's presence, she tried to compose her features. But this night she would not be on her own. Her husband was soon to join her. Dearest Fitzwilliam! To think that he is my husband! She recalled his undivided attention and enamoured looks during supper recently and, before that, their even more private moments in the library. Without her knowledge these thoughts made her face glow. Perhaps he might like it? I would wish to please him. Miss Bradley took care to look elsewhere busying herself with the comb in a wavy strand.

`You are right, Ellen. A girl named Sarah put a lot of effort into my hair this morning. Why ruin her work? Let us keep the braids if you can manage.'

Thus was it that when the girl was done, she noted with no small satisfaction how the tiny orange blossoms still floated among Mrs Darcy's dark curls. Elizabeth turned her eyes from the sight and rose to walk with heated cheeks into her bedroom. She moved to seek refuge near a window and as she looked out into the darkness allowed her mind to return again to the subject recently most likely to arrest her interest. Her present location could but bring about a smile as she pondered the many times she had observed him just so.

While absently noticing the erratic movements of a few snowflakes she pictured the square shoulders and upright posture of her husband on those occasions when he withdrew from his present company by turning his back to them and his eyes towards some secret cynosure. His arms usually appeared to be resting comfortably behind his back whereas some small irregularity, such as one hand rhythmically clasping the fingers of the other, might be the sole evidence of tension. She smiled tenderly and that mental image drew a longing sigh from her heart. Where is he now? I would that he was by my side! She heard Ellen putting some things away in the dressing room before she appeared in the door.

`Shall I draw the curtains, madam?'

Some hesitation could be traced in this enquiry, for though aware of her duties, Ellen had also been instructed that as a lady's maid she must always adjust to the situation at hand. By now she had perceived not only that Mrs Darcy was currently deep in thought, but that she was recurrently so, and reckoned that the lady might not look favourably on repeated disturbance.

Once again brought back from her dreams Elizabeth gradually turned her head towards the girl. The provident question made her aware of the chill emanating from the black glass surface and she backed away a few steps.

`Yes please. I think you had better do that.'

Relief at her mistress' goodness coloured her features as Ellen dropped a quick curtsey and hurried to the windows. She arranged the curtains evenly in front of each dark set of panes, carrying out this task in the same manner she attended to everything, quietly and efficiently.

When she, rather indifferently, sought to acquaint herself with her new room by strolling aimlessly around, Elizabeth's attention was soon caught by a picture on the wall between the windows. It was hanging where it could be seen from almost any corner of the chamber and depicted a sunlit surface of water bordering on one side to wide lawns with some huge scattered trees on them. Something about it made her stop to study it further.

Beyond the water there was a green slope, a hill crowned with wood and then, as her eyes swept over the whole scene, she knew. Pemberley! Her lips formed the word and she realised why it had struck her as vaguely familiar when she first saw it. It was the widening of the river near the main building at Pemberley and the valley winding its way into the distance. It could very well be the view from the music room. The very room where I found reason to hope that he might still care for me. Her reverie was interrupted anew by the voice of her obliging lady's maid.

`Will there be anything else, Mrs Darcy?'

The curtains were covering the windows now, their thick folds of velvet shutting the winter night out and lending the room a more sheltered atmosphere. When Elizabeth turned to kindly dismiss her maid, she found Ellen standing near the fireplace, furtively wiping her hands against her neat lace apron, obviously after placing a log or two on the fire. Knowing that this was not a task generally expected from a lady's maid, and grateful that it would spare her a visit from yet another unfamiliar face in the form of some parlour maid, Elizabeth smiled sympathetically.

`No that will be all, thank you. Good night, Ellen, you have been most helpful.'

Her pale face lit up briefly, then, wishing her mistress a good night, the girl bobbed and left through the dressing room without a sound. As soon as she was gone, Elizabeth began to restlessly pace the floor again. She made a stop before the big door from the hallway to ponder the diligence behind the lustre of its burnished brass knob and polished oak panel. Near it, past the corner to the right, was another door, a minor one, identical to the one leading into her dressing room on the opposite wall. Discreetly covered with wallpaper they melted into the surrounding walls so that when these doors were closed, there was nothing striking about their location to interrupt the pattern of trailing leaf garlands. At first sight they were not easily detected.

It was skilfully done but, at present, Elizabeth was more interested in what was behind that secret door. It can only lead to his chambers. She kept staring at the door's surface with unseeing eyes until the subdued sound of men's voices reached her ears. Her hand flew to her mouth. Not a place where I ought to linger then. She giggled nervously and when she hastened to walk over to the fireplace her hands brushed lightly against the folds of her new night-dress. She looked down. It was elegant; certainly very different from the ones she had hitherto been used to. She remembered the flustered but gentle smile on Jane's face when she had pointed out to her sister, half in jest, how that night-gown resembled one of those exclusive evening dresses from Paris that a daring actress might wear to shock the theatre-goers. The cloth was a heavy bone white silk with a pleasant feel to it. Rather like a soft caress. Oh Jane. I wonder how you are this minute!

Again her cheeks warmed from her thoughts as she watched her image in the grand mirror above a chest of drawers. The negligee that covered her gown was tied together by velvet ribbons and decorated along all its edges with ribbons in the same ivory shade. Yes, very elegant and in good taste. Whereas the one Mama gave me… .

She shuddered to think of the pink lace horror conceived by her mother and carried into all its garish effect by the diligent Miss Gaudkin. There was really nothing wrong with this estimable lady's ability as a seamstress, if only she was provided with detailed instructions. Since her cottage was situated in the outskirts of Meryton and at a very convenient distance from Longbourn, she had been applied to for equipping the Bennet girls with multitudinous outfits throughout the years. There had been few causes for complaints then, for Miss Gaudkin had always evinced a kind and keen ear to their increasingly determined requirements regarding sleeves and collars.

Her shortcoming was in style, a certain partiality for excessive decoration and when the brides-to-be had received her latest creations, they had found them to be an unfortunate, distressingly unwanted addition to their trousseaus. On the busy afternoon when Hill had conveyed the summons to Mrs Bennet's chambers, Jane and Elizabeth had obeyed with some apprehensions and their initial premonitions had turned out to be sadly justified. Draped over the back of a chair these conspicuous presents from their Mama drew their eyes inevitably and it had been frightfully obvious that Miss Gaudkin was too compliant - and too fond of ribbons and lace - to resist the detailed suggestions of an old customer like Mrs Bennet.

By now this offensive gift was however safely tucked away in a bottom drawer and Mrs Darcy sent another grateful thought to her Aunt Gardiner. Unbeknownst to Mrs Bennet, she had perused several editions of La Belle Assemblé with her niece, on the lookout for something entirely different and encouraging her to disregard the expense. Once their search was successfully completed and the choice made, she also attended to contacts with the dressmaker and later - the delivery of the item at Portnam Square.

So it was thanks to her unobtrusive interference that Elizabeth was wearing this ivory creation that complimented the colour of her hair and skin. The neckline of the negligee, though not very low-cut compared to the gown, was designed to leave part of her shoulders exposed. From the elegance of her reflection her eyes darted towards the bed and back again and she suddenly wished that neckline had been close to her throat. She tried to persuade herself that there was no reason to blush, since even some of her muslin gowns were cut lower. Do not be silly, Elizabeth Bennet, you have never shrunk from wearing those dresses, have you? The last thought echoing in her head made her smile happily at her mistake and she murmured in addition. And I trust, nor shall you, Mrs Fitzwilliam Darcy! But her new name also alerted the feelings of disquiet. She knew that the suspense of the moment was the cause of her unfamiliar coyness. Completely oblivious to the fact that no more than some ten minutes had passed since her maid had finished her work and left, she was about to blame her tardy bridegroom. It is this waiting. If only he'd come, what takes him so long? I wish ... .

As if that wish had been granted, there was a knock at the narrow door opposite her dressing room and the sound made her start at the coincidence. She answered it somewhat falteringly and on seeing the rectangle with branches of foliage swing open as Darcy entered the room, ... her bedchamber ... she made a swift gesture, an unconscious attempt to cover her bare skin. Then she noticed and, instantly regretting it, blushed at her own prudery.

He did wake up more than once during that night, and when first he did, immediately aware of her warmth next to him, the treasured weight of her head on his arm, leaned near to inhale deeply. In his mind the sweet scent of her hair tinged with flowers was by now indissolubly linked with the first hours of wedlock. From the moment when she took her place by his side before the altar, all through the day - and night - that faint fragrance pervaded every recollection of his. My dearest, most loveable Elizabeth, you are finally here with me. He gingerly stroked the soft arm that was resting on his chest and in great joy smiled into the darkness while his fingertips savoured her skin.

What he had wished and dreamt for almost a year was true at last. The woman who had once had little regard for him, whose remarks had been so hurtful and contemptuous as her eyes viewed him coldly, had changed her opinion of him and had come to hold him in high esteem. Her eyes are cold no more! The smile on his lips deepened. No indeed, they were not. She had opened her heart and her arms to him, had allowed him to love her and was returning his affection with sweet devotion and astounded passion. She is everything that is lovely. Darcy squinted in concentration, focusing on the dark elevation of her head and attempted in vane to discern her features. When Elizabeth let out what he imagined to be a distressed murmur and moved nearer to him, he was overtaken by the intensity of his feelings. About to choke with tenderness he whispered against her temple.

`Sleep on my love, you are quite safe.'

Rewarded by another exhalation where the warm stream of air was mixed with a sound of contentment even before she delighted him by burying her nose in the pillow near his shoulder, he placed his hand protectively on the dark tresses. The sensation of her loveliness seeking shelter in his embrace soon caused his pulses to pound and he did reduce the distance between them by settling himself a little closer but he forced his body to relax. Perhaps she is not so safe after all. You are insatiable, you beast. Allow her some rest. He found a strand of soft hair to kiss and as its fragrance filled his nostrils he deliberately ignored those memories from yesterday that would affect his peace of mind and instead recalled the lyrical moments in church when they had sworn to love and cherish each other forever. …to have and to hold … from this day forward. The memory of her face lifted towards him, solemnity painted on every feature and the glow of love in her clear eyes made his heart tremble. To love … for better for worse … and thereto I give thee my throth Her beloved voice resounded in his head and his chest heaved with a happy sigh.

There can be no gift more precious than such promises, no greater happiness than the one I have been given. She is really in my care now … to have and to hold … and her wellbeing is my responsibility. This had been his wish since the day when he was obliged to witness, helplessly, her despair at the Bull's inn at Lambton. His heart's innermost desire had been to comfort her with assurances, but it had not been his place to do so.

From the night before he had suspected and from that hour he had known, that his love for her would not leave him. Any hope he might have entertained of a successful banishment of Elizabeth Bennet from his heart had come to an end.

His feelings had deepened and become part of him, matured far beyond the selfish passion that had driven him when he first made her an offer. He knew now that the tormenting months of regret and longing had served this purpose. Less full of his own consequence he had mended his ways, taken up a humbled attitude and attempted a different approach in his dealings with fellow-beings.

No such improvement of his character would have been likely without her. Where else would he have found a woman with her intelligent uprightness and the courage to inform him of his deficiencies? Thus he had miraculously managed to restore her opinion of him. Now she was foremost in his thoughts, her wishes were more important to him than his own and by her unreserved affection she had secured his happiness. Still filled with gratitude that his fate should have taken this fortunate turn, by sending in his way a woman of such superior qualities and generous heart, he closed his eyes and his hand came to rest on top of hers. For a while the newlywed Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was peacefully reposing next to his wife.

Inevitably the novelty of sharing her bed then caused his thoughts to slip out of control and turn to the past night. A tumult of impressions passed in his mind. Her eyes shifting, one moment tender, the next wondrous, glittering, or shiny with tears. Her muffled voice whispering near his shoulder or breathing against his mouth. Her arms reaching for him, her form pliant in his embrace. Her soft hands, sweet caresses … .

In the midst of happy and heated recollections he was arrested by a sudden thought. Did I behave as cautiously as was my intention so as to not shake her trust in me? His eyes had opened wide and were directed upwards as if he expected an answer to appear against the impenetrable darkness of the canopy. His face was serious as he searched his memory, yet he could find no reason for repent or regret. To him the nature of their amorous encounter had not been far from the slowly increasing intimacy he had hoped for. She had come to him with such wonderful openness.

The manner in which she had reciprocated his verbal assurances had been even dearer to him since he had not anticipated such proof of her appreciation. He realised that he had regarded this first meeting in total privacy as an opportunity for him only to voice his feelings for her openly, with no articulate thought of what Elizabeth had kept hidden in her heart of hearts.

However true it might be that he had been for many years only too well aware of his distinguished position in society and superior eligibility on the marriage market, he had never been conceited where his appearance was concerned. The very high opinion of his own consequence and worth as a presumptive husband had been foremost related, in his eyes, to ancestry and wealth. Although spoiled by attention and flattery from most of the young ladies of the ton, he had not compared Elizabeth to them since the day when his precipitate presumption had lead him to commit the most painful mistake of his life by a disastrous proposal. The wide disparity between her unmarred, judicious and incorruptible mind and the calculated opinions expressed by such young women who moved in society and were involved in the flirtatious game of the upper circles, had been evident to him after Elizabeth's frank revelations at Hunsford.

Finally succumbing to his pent up admiration he had spoken without restraint, his fervour inducing him to praise repeatedly the delights of his wife and this had resulted in a few bashful words of approbation from her. Her whispered endearments had been received with happy amazement and taken to heart gratefully. He was only human and so could not but relish in her warm gaze as she informed him of certain features of his that were especially to her liking. Despite some earlier evidence of her warm-blooded disposition it had not really occurred to him that she would be that much affected by his physical person.

Nor had he dared expect for her to act so passionately in the very beginning of their marriage. He had rather foreseen a hesitation that would have to be defeated by tenderness and time, but her response … Hot joy flushed through his chest. She might have betrayed some coyness, yet had never left him in serious doubt about her pleasure. He had been concerned to see her tears, but then recalled the way she sought comfort near him. She was not crying in despair and I was able to console her. Perhaps those tears were very natural? Perhaps some emotional uproar was to be expected. It was a bewildering experience. Even I had never imagined … . He closed his eyes again and abandoned himself to blissful remembrance.

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As soon as he was in his wife's chamber he noticed her discomposure and, though he had been prepared for something of the kind, was inexplicably moved to see it. Thoughts dashed through his head.

Angels above, she looks lovely. But there is something troubling her. She appears unsettled. Beware you fool! You have been deplorably mistaken on your lady's reactions before. Proved to be an all but subtle observer of the female mind. Not an error you would ever wish to repeat. Most definitely not this eve; too precious an occasion to be disrupted by any clumsiness of yours. Tread warily! This calls for the utmost caution.

He pondered the confusion in her beautiful eyes. In all probability it was due to his presence and that fact worried him. Elizabeth, dearest love, you must not fear me. How can I soothe her? I expect it is only reasonable that she should feel shy. Considering the circumstances … . I am not all that comfortable myself!

A few minutes ago in his dressing room, he had been thinking of their very first embrace. Her slender frame standing out against the rough trunk of that old tree … her face, more often concealed than not, since she turned her eyes from him repeatedly or lowered them to the ground. But occasionally those bright, beautiful eyes had been peeping out from under her bonnet allowing him to behold also her beloved countenance, all fresh and rosy from wind and emotion.

By now they had achieved a greater familiarity, yet he felt there was an amazing similarity of situation. On that glorious day in the autumn forest they had taken the very first step towards each other and tonight they were about to take another.

He compared his tangled feelings now to how, while searching for an unobtrusive manner with which to approach her, he had been at the same time excited by his fervent yearning and soothingly encompassed by the rich scent from mouldering leaves and damp soil. Inconceivably the peaceful grandiose calmness of the landscape had influenced him, perhaps by bringing to mind the steady pace with which one season follows another. There is a time to sow and a time to reap. This had taught him consideration and during a trustful conversation one night prior to the nuptials, his intuitive way had been approved, in a moment of nearness, by his fatherly and urbane uncle.

Though one inner voice now urged him to proceed, to finally appease the hunger for her white skin and softly curved lips, there was also another, sensible and calm, telling him to take delight in every step along the road. Not only for her sake, but for his own as well. As a man sows, so shall he reap. He would never forget how, on that redolent forest path, Elizabeth had stepped near him and placed her head most trustfully against his thumping heart. That is how I wish it to be … how I would have her come to me.

The beating of his heart was not more tranquil now as he beheld his young wife for the first time in her night clothes with hair loosely framing her face. Nor did the vision of her soft feminine attire have any moderating effect on his ardour. Quite the contrary it was enhanced by the bothering manner in which the folds of her gown billowed over the rounded contour of her figure. In addition to that, the sight of her lustrous hair floating down onto her shoulders in an intriguing mixture of fuzzy braids and dark flower-graced strands bewitched him also by being evidence of the private nature of their meeting. Ardently anticipated, the moment was finally here and she looked very much as he had imagined her in his dreams. How I long to hold her.

His eyes were moving from the alluring silken dress to her flustered face and, in harmony with his deep baritone, emanated warmth as by a few eager strides he stood before her.

`Dearest Elizabeth, I never saw you look more beautiful, ... like a flower fairy in the midst of winter.`

Hesitating on perceiving again a glimpse of reserve and embarrassment in her eyes, he stopped without clasping her in his arms, as had been his intention. Instead he gave her a pensive look and thrust his impatient hands in the pockets of his dressing gown.

`I hope ... you are not in any way uncomfortable, my love? I would not have you so.`

The concern rendered his masculine face even more attractive. She felt naive and childish as his warm gaze made the blood flush into her cheeks.

' No. No, I am not ... . That is … .'

That insecurity was not in character with her usual confidence and cheerful vivacity and again he was deeply touched. Concluding that she was unable to finish the sentence he added softly.

`You may trust me, Elizabeth; I only want for you to be happy. I would never wish to ... upset you.'

Upset me? Despite her unease she almost laughed. Have you no idea how you affect me, Fitzwilliam Darcy? The sight of his tall figure informally wrapped up in a comfortable dressing gown was certainly upsetting. She glanced bashfully towards him, desperately searching for words as she willed herself to answer.

`I do trust you, Fitzwilliam. It is just...this is all so ... so ... awkward?'

Reflecting that this quality of hers, this frankness, was a blessing indeed, he smiled tenderly and decided that he must refrain from devouring her with his eyes. His own bewilderment was even somewhat alleviated, when he answered attempting a casual tone and a slightly facetious way of expression, the apparent ease of which was not really coherent with his inner turmoil but designed to lighten the atmosphere.

`I know, my dearest. We are neither of us used to this ... state of matrimony, are we? In our minds we may be well aware that you are no longer Miss Elizabeth Bennet but Mrs Darcy and that I am your lawfully wedded husband ... .

A short pause, then the significance of those words caused the level of his voice to sink while its temperature rose.

'Most fortunate to be so. Yet it is not altogether comprehensible.'

Another smile, one of happiness and quite impossible to restrain, passed on his face and his dazed wife saw reason to look grateful when he released one hand to indicate the fireplace.

`I see no need for haste getting used to it. Would you not like to sit, Elizabeth? There seems to be a nice well-fed blaze and we have had few opportunities to talk today. Apart from the carriage drive, that is ... .'

His eyes met hers and there was a swift exchange of secret understanding. Lovingly he watched her blush rise again as he mentioned their trip from Hertfordshire. Not that anything improper had taken place quite the contrary. But somehow there had been secret wishes, wistful looks and furtive caresses to fill that coach.

The atmosphere had been vibrant with anxious passion and it had been out of place, since the journey was made in broad daylight and since Darcy had been unable to bring himself to draw the curtains. He would be appalled to have the carriage ride on their wedding day even vaguely reminiscent of those tour de plaisir some gentlemen might undertake in the company of less scrupulous ladies.

Though there had been a moment, when he rather wished he had not been so bound by propriety. Even now, there was warmth stirring inside him at the memory and he glanced towards Elizabeth, whose cheeks were still covered by a faint flush. Was she thinking of it too ... ?

A stop had been made at a coach station some two hours after their leaving Netherfield. While the men were seeing to the horses, Mr. Darcy and his wife left the coach to stretch their legs. From a wish to escape the bustle outside the adjoining inn, the couple, being more interested in privacy, shunned the confinement of the stable yard and chose instead to stroll along the road. Warmed by the fur-lining of her pelisse as well as by her husband's disarming solicitude, Elizabeth stepped cautiously on the frozen sand. With the change in temperature hoof-marks and wheel-tracks in the once soft surface had been here and there solidified into somewhat treacherous holes.

From her childhood she had witnessed the ongoing discussions, where her mother was inclined to spend, while Mr. Bennet attempted to check the extravagances of his wife by recurrent references to the available funds. She could easily recall her father's look of exhaustion as he made one of his habitual sarcastic remarks. I am aware that you believe me completely devoid of compassion for your present lack of muslin, Mrs. Bennet. That which you chuse to call stinginess, however, stems only from what my conscience bids me to point out, if we are to eat as well as dress.

Since they came of age, he had turned to his eldest daughters for support in this matter, and it had become their task also to help him keep their mother within the limits of her household allowance. Therefore the state of the Longbourn finances was, without reflection, taken into consideration by the former Miss Bennet; new footwear called for prudence and Elizabeth placed her feet with deliberate purpose, for she would not wish to soil her boots. Happily indulging in tender small talk she still saw the occasional need for turning her eyes from the intense gaze of her companion, sometimes to the aforementioned inspection of the road's condition and sometimes to alleged contemplation of the surrounding landscape.

That was how she discovered that a thick copse by the roadside was infested with waxwings, a large flock of them, happily feeding on the berries. She motioned for her husband to be still and thus they were able to study closely a beautiful bird about to gorge himself, without allowing their presence to disturb him. In truth it was Elizabeth who watched the bird with interest whereas Darcy gave most of his attention to his wife and only looked at the winged animal when she urged him to. She smilingly rebuked him for his behaviour.

`I would have thought to find you amazed that we are permitted so near him. I consider that an honour! Do behold his exquisite headdress! Is he not elegant, sir?'

Only too pleased to suffer the mild reproach from rosy lips and bright eyes, Darcy murmured his agreement as he bent down to place a furtive kiss on her temple. He had not intended more than a momentary caress but her reaction was difficult to ignore. His wife had placed one hand on his chest and, after pushing aside the cloak, slowly stroked the lapel of his coat. Her voice was silky and she was so close to him.

`Are you not aware that these birds are generally shy creatures, Mr. Darcy?'

The promise of intimacy represented by that hand affected him to no small degree. He could not bring himself to part from such softness but readily embraced her and moved his lips to brush over a downy cheek before he answered huskily.

`So I have heard! But I confess I am more honoured to be allowed near my sweet wife.'

She smiled on hearing him speak so. The warmth of his mouth near her ear made her shiver and despite herself, snuggle up against him beguilingly. The waxwings were forgotten as the couple swayed in a devoted and longed-for embrace. Affected by emotions flaring up and about to lose equanimity as well as balance, Elizabeth tripped near the frosty grass-edge above the ditch and Darcy had to regain control with one long stride. Instinctively his arms tightened around her and his mouth retrieved her cheek but, as he stood there holding her, the sound of neighing horses and men's reassuring voices could be heard from the coach station to remind him of the surroundings.

Come now, man, you are standing on the main London road embracing your wife for all to see. He tore his lips from their enchanting location and released her. If ever there was a man more besotted with his wife! Her blushing face was tilted upwards; some sweet confusion lingering in her eyes made him avert his gaze and take a deep breath as he placed her hand in the crook of his arm. Or a woman more alluring! Managing a comment on the amount of rose hips along the ditches, he even speculated on the effect this might have on the number of birds in the neighbourhood. By now Elizabeth had grown accustomed to this abrupt way of ending their embraces and she answered him in the same fashion.

`Had they but been bigger we might have challenged the waxwings and collected some - in your hat perhaps - for our own benefit!'

He smiled at this suggestion, grateful for her pliable mind and would have managed an answer to any utterance of hers, but as happened so often, her conversation truly intrigued him.

`Our benefit! How so?'

She looked at him briefly.

`Why, to prepare jam from them of course!'

Now genuinely perplexed he retorted.

`Jam? From rose hips? My headgear would be at your disposal of course, but … .'

His apparent incredulity provoked her, adding lustre to her skin and opening the amazing dark eyes wide.

`Really, sir! Do you mean to tell me, you have never tasted rose hip jam?'

He reflected that there was no way escaping her charms since even this turn of conversation, initially meant to be neutral, had defeated the object by rendering her countenance radiant. Admiring her glittering eyes he could not hold back a broad smile.

`I have to admit that is the case. Jelly of this extraction has not been on my plate - nor pleased my palate. Hence I conclude no such rose-related preserve has ever been found on the shelves of Pemberley. I can not imagine it would have escaped my cognisance, since, as a boy, I took great interest in the jam-jar section of the larder.'

His grin was irresistible, as was his nonsensical manner of expression. She gave him a captivated smile in return.

`This shall be mended. Surely there must be larger rose hip varieties at Pemberley? I am convinced that once you have tried this delicacy, you will be pleased to have gained some Hertfordshire influence on your Derbyshire household.'

Pressing her arm to him, he laughed softly.

`I assure you, madam, I need no marmalade to bless the day I came into Hertfordshire.'

¤¤¤¤¤

Hence a happy smile lingered on Elizabeth's face when shortly thereafter they returned to the coach inn. She declined an offer of refreshments and Darcy had just supported her stepping back into the carriage, when his own ascent was interrupted by the approaching Mr. Bullock who called upon his master's attention by a subdued plea that was initiated and closed by excessive hemming. The coachman suspected his appearance could not be welcome but rather most untimely.

`Begging your forbearance, sir. I ought not to disturb you but … . I would not … but it does seem … .'

Darcy waved his hand to end the irresolute humming and exhorted the man to make his point.

`Yes, Bullock? What seems to be the trouble?'

`'Tis Burns, sir. Slight mishap. He's not really affected by it, but I am afraid he might be before long. That's why I would be much obliged if you would take the time to come have a look at him.'

It appeared one of the dappled geldings in the front pair had suffered a mild injury. No change of horses had been planned and Bullock knew his master would wish to be informed, for Darcy was more involved in the daily management of his horses than was usually to be expected from a man of his means. It was not as if he could not afford skilled men to attend to the animals, but rather that he had taken a keen interest in the inhabitants of the Pemberley stables ever since boyhood. It had actually become a minor obsession and a matter of some amusement and banter among his friends. He now courteously asked and graciously received Elizabeth's indulgence before he set out to comply with Bullock's request.

When he came up in front of the foursome, his coachman had just placed himself near the animal. He was leaning heavily against him and sliding his hand along the leg, thus urging the horse to lift his foot.

`Admittedly the injury is not very big, sir, but it is unhappily located.'

Darcy, who had positioned himself opposite Bullock's stout figure, bent over the uplifted leg to examine the wound.

`Yes, I see the cause for your concern, Bullock.'

He pondered the small galled area just above the hoof.

`Did he kick himself?'

`I'm rather inclined to think `tis the work of a sharp stone, Mr. Darcy. Tiny at first sight, but clearly more than a scratch. Would you have me ignore it? Should we change horses after all? I'd value your opinion, sir. He could manage, I suppose, but … .'

Resuming his full height Darcy glanced towards the coach. He tried to hide a smile as he pictured his wife inside. My lovely Elizabeth! I am not interested in anything that will retard our arrival in town. But that horse deserves consideration. Elizabeth is not overly tired and she would not object to being detained … given good reason. Bullock studied the young man's face furtively and, when he spoke again it was with an inward grin of good-humoured impertinence, originating in a perfectly natural masculine tendency for friendly abuse, if only he had not been addressing Mr. Darcy.

`Would you be put to severe inconvenience by a short delay, sir?'

His master's gaze was impenetrable when he fixed it on the coachman. Bullock had not endured it for long before he began to feel uneasy, for no sooner had the words passed his lips than he regretted his ill-considered inquiry. Ringing in his ears its impudence now seemed obvious. He was deliberating whether he would be wise to seek a retreat or if the matter had better be ignored, when, all of a sudden, the stony countenance in front of him vanished as Darcy's attention was called upon by a shrill bray. He seized the wild-eyed gelding by the rein to calm him and passed his hand comfortingly along the horse's neck.

The other horse of the pair had been fairly impassive up till now. After turning his sensible ears watchfully in every direction for a few seconds, the gelding apparently had his evaluation ready and took to rubbing his muzzle against that of his mate, expressing his compassion also by a subdued and drawn out neighing.

`Hm no, we should be able to manage without a change. They are usually strong enough and do not seem exhausted, do they? I think you had better attend to that wound before we proceed though. There now … steady Burns, old boy! It seems he knows there is something wrong, and indeed so does Byron. Disregarding the fact that it would be most unwise to risk him lame, I think he is craving for some extra care. Otherwise you might very likely have one fourth or even one half of your four-in-hand acting unpredictably. Out of hand, eh? See to it, will you, Bullock.'

`Aye, sir! Very true, sir. You've got a point there.'

The man let go of the horse's leg with a grin of relief and approval. Thereby he acknowledged the mild pun as well as the liberal indulgence with his precipitate slip of tongue. He straightened up, summoning the groom who had been waiting at a respectful distance. While the coachman's alleviation occasioned a flow of words providing young Thomas with detailed instructions to get what was needed from the coach inn stables, Darcy sent a footman to Elizabeth and then made common cause with Byron. He proved himself to be truly fond of horses when he endeavoured to soothe the stomping animal by the rigmarole of low sounds and words familiar to every horseman.

Bullock, genuinely pleased already by the renewed evidence of what he considered good horsemanship in his master, joined him eagerly promising that their arrival in town would not be much behind schedule. He peered up into the sky.

`Looks like the clerk of the weather will stay favourable for the rest of the journey. If I am not very much mistaken, the roads will be firm and passable, allowing for a good pace.'

Darcy nodded his assent and, much to his surprise, saw as well as seized the opportunity to retaliate.

`Very good, Bullock. I know you will get us there safely. Only remember that from this day on your responsibility is more than doubled. You have got the comfort of a lady to consider. In the future I can not always be expected to look favourably on reckless ventures. Whenever Mrs. Darcy is with us, any form of racing will be out of the question. However straight the piece of road ahead! However firm, I shall not tolerate it!'

The reason for this lecture being that in the past, Bullock had been known to test the speed and power of endurance of his equipage when given the chance. Since he had been in the habit of travelling mostly on his own or in the company of some male acquaintances, Darcy had never bothered to comment before, though he was in no way ignorant but rather relying on the man's sense and ability. Upon hearing the severity of this reprimand Bullock, who up till now had been lulled into security by the assumption that his master had not really noticed, was again forced to grin, although this time with embarrassment.

`Mr. Darcy! If you were ever … I never thought … uhrrm, trust you are not displeased, sir?'

His jovial face was rarely pale but by now it was suffused by a shade of deep crimson and while Darcy spoke Bullock had been eagerly stroking the horses' heads and utterly absorbed in the intricacy of a wrung piece of harness. In his exuberant state of mind Darcy took pity on his good coachman.

`By all means, man! I was never opposed to some good sport. Just remember, henceforward!'

Relief eased the tension on his features and the flush receded when Mr. Bullock looked his master straight in the face and made an earnest bow.

`Depend upon it, Mr. Darcy, sir. I'll be taking every precaution.'

When the groom returned, the men immediately began the preparations for nursing the injury by taking out the proper material for bandage, removing the cap from a bottle of tincture and tearing shreds of cloth. Affronted by the smell of ointment Burns and Byron tossed their heads backwards, disapprovingly rattling the harness in an attempt to escape the foul scent.

Seeing both men occupied, Darcy forestalled his groom by a resolute intervention, calling the geldings back to order before their disquietude would affect the second pair of horses. He spread his arms, unconsciously avoiding froth-stains on his sleeves by a firm grip at the cheek-straps of both bridles, and articulated a low-voiced yet imperative command as he forced their heads down.

`Easy now! We want no more of that! Eeeasy, you fiery bards.'

The boy had hastened on to take over and Darcy was satisfied to know the matter would be in capable hands. He stepped aside and made sure his greatcoat was impeccable. Softly humming to himself, he set out towards the carriage door, which, he noticed with a fleeting smile, was slightly ajar. She is expecting me!

On a sudden whim he inspected the palms of his gloves. The sight made him knit his brows for they were no longer impeccably white. Not fit for female company. I had better realise that when travelling with one's wife and hence, indulging in matters of the heart, one would be wise to stay away from `matters of the horse'. He chuckled to himself. Had but Roget been around I trust he would have produced a clean pair in no time.

All through his deliberations with coachman and groom and beneath the momentary regret and amused reflection on the dutifulness of his missing valet, the knowledge of Elizabeth's presence inside the coach had filled him with secret joy. In the back of his head he was already anticipating the reunion with pleasure. His heart had taken to beat a little faster as with eager strides he returned to his bride. Darcy was surely full of expectation, yet there was no way he could have foreseen what awaited him.

He had bared his head and placed a boot on the foot-board about to join the lady, when his eyes were met by a sight that was as delightful as it was unexpected.

I suppose the Travelling Coach could be quite vulgarly called Darcy's Easter Egg since it contains his own dainty chicken. If so, he is being a good boy and makes every effort to save his Egg for later… ; ) Oh, enough, how about some fluff?!

Where Elizabeth stood in confusion, she regarded the complex and vague expression on her husband's pleasing face and tried to neglect her unstable legs to concentrate on his actual words. … Apart from the carriage drive, that is … . Reaching behind her she found the reassuring support of the chest of drawers and she leaned stealthily against it while her thoughts returned again to that joint and private journey of theirs.

What is he intimating? He had mentioned opportunities to talk and their being too scarce - why had they not been deep in conversation during the whole of that journey? So much had happened after her arrival in town that she was no longer sure. Thinking back on it she believed the greater part of the trip had been undertaken in silence. Could he be hinting on this? It was difficult to concentrate with him so disturbingly present. She had to avoid those warm eyes where a smile seemed to be lurking, as if he expected her to know his meaning.

Surely there had been lots of communication through lingering gazes and sighs, marked silences and smiles. So there had been no lack of thoughts and emotions, only very few of them had been put into words. Yet we were together in private for hours. But for the incident when he was called away to see to that horse. I did little then but miss his presence and long for him to come back. And when he did … oh!

Her eyes darted towards his face, suddenly realising what he might be referring to. She could do nothing to prevent a violent blush from rising on her cheeks at the memory. Especially since her conduct had been so intrepid.

¤¤¤¤¤

Elizabeth had at first expected her husband's prompt return, but when the next form that passed outside the coach window was a groom heading towards the coach station's stable, she realised that their departure had been momentarily postponed. Since there was nothing to indicate that Darcy was on his way, she prepared to wait and took to watching the rays of sparse winter sun that glittered on the Inn's signboard and graced the frosty bushes on the roadside by providing the few remaining leaves with a sparkling lining. The crisp air and restricted beauty of the December day agreed so well with her state of mind. This is the first day of my life as his wife.

She knew herself to be on the brink of something different and expected a new kind of orderliness to rule her daily life from now on. The somewhat indulgent management of domestic matters that had been prevalent at Longbourn was to be abandoned and replaced for her with a day of several duties. However unfamiliar, she did not doubt that the tasks awaiting her would be meaningful. Fully realising that problems and difficulties were bound to arise, she was still looking forward to the challenge. Though she understood that she would start out as an all but accomplished mistress of her new home, she took comfort from the fact that she would not be on her own but know always where to turn for guidance and help. The considerable difference in size of estate and staff aside, she believed the heart of the matter was really the big disparity in character between the master of Longbourn and the master of Pemberley.

And in this I am not even taking into account their respective height and eye-colour - or their influence over my heart. Her smile was happy yet she rolled her eyes in acknowledgement of her biased propensity to return to that particular subject. Staring dreamily in front of her she pictured the smiling ease on Darcy's face and recalled how the spirit of his good-humoured remarks had been reflected in his eyes. There was no use denying that most any quality of his seemed endearing, or that the sum of them had a substantial effect on her.

A wistful sigh escaped her for the view outside the coach windows offered no tall frame to gratify her eyes. When she found she had been looking at the loading of luggage to a nearby mail coach until it was completed, yet seen none of it, she shook her head in censure of this never-ending folly. Her gaze travelled to inspect the tasteful interior of the carriage where she was seated and almost distrustfully reminded herself that henceforward it was to be considered hers as well - our carriage - and next, to linger with pleasure on the lambskin trimming of her pelisse. I doubt that royalty could be better off. I am as comfortable as any princess is. Her hand stroked the soft fur and her eyes continued downwards, admiring the unaccustomed elegance of her footwear.

Concerned to notice a few damp stains on the leather she placed her feet on a brick and, in doing so concluded the stones had been replaced during their walk, for this one was clearly newly heated. The warmth that soon spread to her toes made her draw a deep breath and stretch her arms gracefully above her head. She was perfectly content to think of the recent gallantries from her dashing husband who was presently out there somewhere attending to some male business about the horses. Her eyes were closed and her arms came to rest leisurely against the upholstery above her head, while the small smile gracing her lips betrayed that her mind was most agreeably engaged.

At this moment Darcy was on the step, hat in hand, and so overwhelmed was he by the scene before him that he gasped and stood unable to move, his eyes widening. He had never seen his beloved in such an unguarded position, though his dreams had included visions of that kind for quite some time. He was immediately aware that no vision could surpass the delightful picture before him. Elizabeth sat so completely relaxed, the curves of her lithe figure delightfully enhanced by the soft cloth of her pelisse, her dark head that rested against the wall was tilted to one side with lashes shadowing the rosy cheek. Struck by the loveliness of his wife he remained immobile for several seconds, devouring her with his eyes, but actually aching to throw himself at her feet in worship. The inviting posture of her body seemed to call out for him.

The shouting and general commotion from the departing equipage had clearly drowned the sound of her husband's footsteps but, when the noise from carriage wheels and trotting horses died away, her peaceful repose was interrupted by a deep sigh. Elizabeth sensed his presence and slowly opened her eyes. She looked straight into a pair of such intense darkness and her gaze was immediately locked by his, the ardour of which made her feel faint and without even the willpower required to adjust her position.

Every movement was measured when Darcy proceeded into the coach and took a place opposite his wife placing his hat on the seat beside him. He reached out to close the door carefully, murmuring in a muffled voice.

`Elizabeth, I am ... .`

These few words seemed to release his emotions, for there was nothing measured about the way he pulled off his gloves to throw them aside. Ever since their eyes met he had been holding her gaze. Elizabeth's arms turned oddly weak; they slid along the soft cloth of the upholstery and eventually dropped to her lap. Darcy was not able to finish his sentence, but seized her hands to bring them near his lips. One first, then the other was ferociously kissed before his gaze swept slowly over her entire frame, from the flower-graced curls to the tips of her boots on the brick and back again to rest on her face. His black eyes were admiring her more openly than he had ever allowed himself and in their darkness she saw devotion and something more that seemed to kindle a flame of response in her own chest.

Though somewhat intimidated as a sweet tingling sensation spread inside her, she reacted with a delighted smile and released one hand from his grasp to tentatively touch his cheek. Their eyes locked again and she felt the hand still in his being squeezed very firmly. She was amazed by her own audacity but she acted upon the sight of those lips that were so resolutely pressed together. Intuitively her love for this reticent and restrained man made her bend over to let her mouth touch his.

He grunted, her hand now caught in a vice as he was about to pull her close, had it not been for footsteps that could be heard on the gravel outside ... . Darcy let go of her hand and slumped back against the wall. Through the windows they watched the groom pass and their eyes followed his liveried figure as he walked towards the cluster of buildings until he finally disappeared behind the stable's door.

Deep exhalations were heard and frozen poses turned less stiff as muscles began to slacken but they had barely time to adjust their appearances before a crunching neared again. This time it was a footman who knocked on the door to inform his master that the injured horse was in order by now and that, whenever he wished to proceed, Mr Bullock was all set to go. The reply was prompt and hoarse.

` Let us be off at once, then. We would wish to be in London before dark.'

Inhaling heavily Darcy perceived that the reactions of his body were much the same as if he had been running along outside the carriage for the last mile. He could feel his heart beating furiously as he cleared his throat to request his wife's attention.

Elizabeth, whose previous boldness had disappeared from the shock of being nearly found out, had been looking out the window endeavouring to control her feelings during the short exchange between master and servant. The heat she had seen in her husband's eyes when he came upon her was affecting her even more now, when she had time to reflect on its intensity. She obeyed his wish by turning her head to timidly meet his gaze.

In a strangled voice Darcy told her that he regretted the deficiency in his manners and the emotional outburst he had recently permitted himself. She mumbled something deprecatingly to allay his anxiety but it was clearly in vain. Despite his attempts to regain control his confusion was obvious, regret and agitation fighting for supremacy with other less easily discerned emotions on his countenance as he persisted.

`I must beg your forbearance. My unguarded behaviour might have placed you in a most embarrassing situation.'

Since she could see from the expression on his face that he was absolutely serious, she was moved and, though her own bewilderment was considerable, she could not forego an attempt to ease his mind by making him realise her share of the responsibility. She adopted his ceremonial manner.

`Why sir, I am grateful for such gentlemanly manners as make you take the entire blame. I do, however, feel the need to remind you ... . It is absolutely necessary since my sense of justice demands it, that I believe I myself may have played some small part in bringing this improper scene about. Were it not for my rash initiative … .'

She blushed, for as she spoke she realised that her behaviour might indeed be called forward. Forced composure was on her husband's grave face. To him the fact that he had been very close to losing his self-command was incomprehensible and the mere thought that a servant might have happened upon them in a moment of intimacy had shaken him. The whole of it was certainly very far from how a Darcy was supposed to conduct himself.

Elizabeth saw that he was still ill at ease and tried a cautious smile towards her agitated husband. Darcy resisted the loveable face opposite him but a moment, then he allowed her eyes to bewitch and her phrasing to amuse him. His shoulders relaxed somewhat as he accepted the invitation issued by the tiny sparkle in her eyes.

`Yes madam, there can be no doubt that you were the origin of my ... deplorable lack of self-restraint. Still, you cannot help being adorable. Surely it must fall upon me to handle that! For the rest of my life … .'

Tiny wrinkles appeared around his eyes and the corners of his mouth turned upwards. He was smiling now. She watched him lovingly and, when she heard him revive a mutual source of amusement, she smiled too.

`Perhaps you are right, we are the victims of circumstance. One might even join Sir William Lucas in asking, who could blame me? When so much beauty is before me ... .'

His voice trailed off. Despite the joke there was something unsettling in his eyes when he sent her another look of admiration and yearning, which warmed her cheeks and left her in a muddle of emotions although she returned it as best she could.

The atmosphere in the carriage remained a little tense after that, however, and Darcy did not move back to reclaim the seat next to his wife, which he had previously held. He did not trust himself after the seductive temptation he had been exposed to. The mere thought of how she looked upon his entrance rendered him hot and her candid way of receiving his attentions left him breathless, ... most eager to arrive in London, and to be done with all the necessary ceremonies.

They could not be avoided, he knew that; a new mistress ought to meet the servants on her arrival. And they would be expected to have some kind of special supper, in all likelihood Mrs Tuddler had been keeping De Tartarin and most of the kitchen staff busy all day. Not until all of this was over with would he finally have her to himself. If I am less able to handle her impact on me then it will not matter, just as long as I don't lose all self-restraint. His eyes often lingered on her beloved face and, when he believed himself unnoticed, his fervent gaze slipped over her pelisse-clad person, admiring the roundness of her womanly form that had been so skilfully enhanced by the expert cut of the London seamstress.

From time to time Elizabeth would catch those dark intense eyes lingering on her and depending on the temperature of their look, this would make her confused or pleased. She was contemplating her feelings for her husband; quite amazed at the uproar his presence was bringing about within her.

From the weeks of their courtship she could remember several occasions when she had been completely overcome and she knew that Darcy had been paying attention to propriety, when she would rather have forgot all about it for the alluring enchantment of the moment. Less frequent had been the times when she had been the one to stay composed when confronted by passionate advances from her fiancé. Such recollections were however sure to make her look forward to the privacy of his ... their home in London.

Oh, to be alone at last and be allowed to disregard ... at this point of her reflections she threw a brief glance at her husband and found that his head was turned from her. He was looking out the window and on his face was an indecipherable expression. What little she could make of it was that he appeared to be miles away. Unreasonable disappointment provided a tiny lump in her throat. So he prefers to stay seated at a distance and now he will not even look at me. He has been acting like this since that charged break at the coach station.

She missed the comfort of his nearness from the first stage of their journey. She had been urged to rest her head against his shoulder then and had her hand held and attended to by tiny strokes or even kisses from time to time, although with every regard for decency. There had been such an infinitely pleasant conversation concerning the events of the momentous morning with several opportunities for shared amusement but also opinions compared more in earnest. The discovery that more impressions were mutual than not enhanced the sentiments of warm affinity.

It would seem her husband's mood had changed as a result of the incident outside the inn. After that first precipitate kiss on the road from Netherfield and the tender intermezzo during their walk along the bird-invaded rosebushes, she had been the one to brush his lips boldly, whereas he had only kissed her hands during that agitated moment, but then there had been no more caresses. She sighed. It seems I cannot have enough of him. Whilst he ….

His face was somehow restrained, rather like it had been during the first weeks of their acquaintance, when she had believed him to be constantly finding faults with her. What is he thinking? Is he dissatisfied? Deeming my behaviour too unseemly?

Lost in such disheartening speculations she was suddenly comforted by the thought of her father's voice mildly reproving her. Lizzy, you must not allow your judgement to be obscured by emotional moods. It might lead you far astray! Acknowledging the justice of the paternal advice with a melancholy smile she tried to study Darcy's countenance indifferently though, to be sure, that was not at all easy!

Why do I want to kiss his chin even more because it looks so stern? Oh dear, what is the matter with me? Where is my ladylike composure? She became absorbed in contemplation of his clear-cut male features, which, though they were getting increasingly familiar, formed such an intricate enigma. There were still secrets hidden behind that noble brow, still puzzling reasons for the arching of his thick dark brows and still unknown emotions glinting in the depths of the eyes that so affected her. The faraway look and outward severity were not easily interpreted. Now, is this an expression of displeasure on his dear face? No, I think not. I suppose, I could ask him?

She was about to draw his attention, to see if it were possible to soften that harshness, but on second thought, refrained. Experience had taught her that one thing might lead to another. She smiled. The carriage was not total privacy and she would try to behave herself until ... later. Perhaps he was ... doing exactly that. I want him attentive and tender yet I know this is neither the time nor the proper place.

Yes, she had to silently acknowledge there was passion to be had behind that solemn facade of self-control. She had seen glimpses of it, these last weeks, why only an hour ago in this very carriage ... . She now believed he was wise to allow for some distance between them. It is not what he wishes … I am sure he would hold me near to him if only we were on our own. Closing her eyes she recalled the ardour that had been in his gaze and the thought filled her with love and made her sigh in anticipation as that special kind of warmth spread inside.

When she looked up again she found that this time Darcy's attention was entirely upon her and on his face was that smile that had become increasingly dear to her ever since she first contemplated the perpetuated version of it in the picture gallery at Pemberley. His affectionate gaze made her smile back with a glow in her eyes that induced her besotted husband to make a heartfelt declaration.

`You can not imagine how much I love you, Mrs Darcy.'

It is as if he had guessed my thoughts and wishes to reassure me. She gave a short happy laugh and, not altogether unsuspectingly, wishfully whispered.

`Why Mr Darcy, you must remember to show me.'

Her words seemed to resonate within the vehicle and though there was continuously the rattling and crackling of the carriage's springs and woodwork, the sound of the wheels rolling forward over sticks and stones and the snorting of the horses in response to the coachman's low encouragement, none of this could interfere with the wordless but charged communication between the man and the woman that were travelling in it.

For a while there was a peculiar silence, a gap in time. Then the moment had passed, seconds began to run at their usual pace and turn into minutes but Darcy was still incredulous. Though he did not think Elizabeth was aware of every implication of what she just said, he was affected none the less by the swirl of ideas in his imagination.

Again her unexpected response had made her husband gasp inwardly but not even Lady Catherine De Bourgh of Rosings Park would have been able to detect the slightest deficiency in her nephew's worthy demeanour. On the other hand that formidable woman would have been quite put out to know how utterly and completely an artful upstart from the countryside had managed to work her way into his noble heart. Darcy was compelled to swallow hard before answering his wife in a low voice.

`You may depend upon it, madam.'

There had been no breach of faith. Fitzwilliam Darcy had fulfilled the promise given to his young wife in the carriage. He would not have been able to act otherwise for it had been many months since he had wished for an opportunity to show Elizabeth the extent of his affections. Thus when they were finally alone he wanted nothing more than to see her happy, to assure her of his infinite admiration and love. What had been solemnly declared by the altar that morning and so ardently repeated later in response to her request in the travelling coach had indeed been proved true beyond the smallest doubt. He had undertaken to redeem his vow with every ability within his command, sometimes gently as could be expected from a man of some maturity accustomed to considering the female sensibilities after years of inexhaustible concern for a beloved sister. Frequently though, emboldened by Elizabeth's glowing reception as evening turned into night and more so as night waned and with it the last remnants of his self-sacrificing temperance, sweeping her off her feet with the passionate ardour of a man absolutely and violently in love.

¤¤¤¤

Memories of their journey had passed through Elizabeth's mind as she listened to Darcy suggesting that they might feel more at ease to ... talk without any disturbing interruptions here in this secluded room of their London house. His gesture had indicated the suite of furniture in front of the fireplace.

She looked in that direction, her gaze distractedly considering some softly upholstered armchairs and a settee, all covered with lustrous green and blue brocade. It was an inviting sight; the pieces of furniture were all arranged at a comfortable distance from the fire yet agreeably illuminated by its glow. In their midst stood a yew wood table upon which a tray with fruit bowls and a number of decanters had been placed. The flames glimmered in newly burnished silver and elaborately cut crystal.

Elizabeth found it odd that she had not noticed this earlier, but could recall some minor commotion from her chamber while she was locked away in the dressing room with her maid. At the time she had supposed she was hearing servants tending to the luggage or the fireplace, but now concluded that was when the refreshments must have been brought in. The number of housemaids and footmen silently and efficiently moving about the house was one of the novelties that had impressed her already.

She was grateful for her husband's suggestion, for spending time by the fireside would mean an opportunity to calm her nerves by postponing what was to come next. As she expressed her approval of his proposal, her eagerness gave some of that relief away. Bothered by her abashment Elizabeth regarded this failing ability to master the situation as- what Mr Bennet might have called - an annoying missishness, but hoped that a resemblance to normal conversation would help her regain confidence. Darcy's reference to the day's journey had brought some charged moments to mind, but she endeavoured to ignore them, reminding herself of the satisfactory occasions when their exchange had been marked by ease, understanding and even mutual hilarity. Perhaps this visit from her husband might not be so very unsettling after all.

Darcy saw that she was not about to move on her own, so he held out his open hand and when Elizabeth placed hers in it with a small smile, he clasped it lightly helping her to a place on the settee where, after one furtive glance at his wife, he sank down beside her. How soft her hand is! Did she hesitate to give it to me? He had retained his grasp and passed his thumb reassuringly over her knuckles before he let go.

`Would you care for a glass of wine, Mrs Darcy?'

She was not really thirsty but felt that would provide a welcome occupation for her hands and, if needed an excuse to avert her eyes. Lest the sound of her voice would again betray her insecurity she merely nodded her consent while her fingertips traced the silken and slightly raised pattern of dark blue anemones on the sofa.

Her uncommon reserve did not escape Darcy who, disquieted by his observations, and inwardly reflecting that what he had already understood to be a matter requiring some delicacy might indeed prove to be somewhat like walking in a foolhardy manner on ice that has formed over night. He caught a glimpse of the fidgeting hand on the sofa between them, and fought an impulse to seize and kiss it by moving the tray closer to study the assortment offered. Disregarding the cognac - a discreet proof of Hudson's omnipresent consideration no doubt - with one fleeting smile and approving of the Waterford wineglasses - a marked attention towards Mrs Darcy from the same quarter - with another, his expression shifted as he turned to his wife. This third smile was a most affectionate one that warmed his anxious eyes though it did not entirely wipe out the concern.

`There is sherry and port then or … you might prefer something lighter. Perhaps claret would meet with your approval?'

It vexed him to hear himself being so eloquent on a matter of little consequence. The words he would speak to her were so very different. He was not pleased with his achievements so far and barely avoided a sigh. Her answer, in contrast, was little more than a breathless whisper.

'I thank you, yes.'

Darcy's gaze lingered contemplatively on the dear face beside him, regretting the mark of disquiet on it, while he poured the deep-red liquid into a goblet. One misjudged step and I'll be in cold water to my neck. He so wanted her to be happy, to feel comfortable, not timorous, in his company and he was trying to think of something clever to say that would make her laugh or at least smile, when his pondering was interrupted by an unexpected exclamation from his suddenly reticent wife.

`Oh, that is quite enough, Fitzwilliam … .'

The touch of alarm in her voice was all but puzzling when he looked at the glass. He had filled it to the brim.

`How careless of me … .'

Embarrassed by the undeniable evidence that his entire attention had been held by her countenance, he glanced from the glass to her face and was clearly disconcerted at first, but got a hold of himself.

`It is … that is, I could … hrm. Will you be able to handle that?'

She rather enjoyed seeing her imposing husband off guard in this manner and a glint of the usual merriment was in her eyes when she replied with forced composure.

`I shall do my best.'

He made sure the heavy decanter was replaced in safety on the tray before handing her the drink. When she received it their fingers met on the goblet's stem. Perhaps this brief touch conduced to make Elizabeth's hand unsteady for, as she hastened to take the first sip, a few drops wet her lips and chin and one even fell towards her robe. Giving a low cry of self-reproach she put the glass down.

`Oh no! What have I done...?'

In obvious concern she searched the creamy silk of her gown for spots.

`It was entirely my fault and I … .'

Darcy mumbled his regret where he sat motionless, still clasping the cut glass stopper in his hand and staring at one tiny red drop on her skin, just above the neckline. That it should evoke such complex feelings quite overwhelmed him.

Relieved to find her elegance intact she smiled gratefully when her husband who had finally replaced the stopper in the decanter, somewhat distractedly took a linen napkin from the table and carefully dried her chin. She saw tenderness on his face and could not but wonder at the abrupt switch to gravity when he looked into her eyes, whispering before his gaze wandered to fix again upon the drop on her chest.

`Permit me.'

He had refolded the napkin and dabbed her skin with it anew. She watched him crumple up the cloth and then, before she knew what he was about, he bent forward to kiss the now untarnished whiteness of her neck. Overcome by the tender intimacy of his actions she had sat immovable until the slight touch of his mouth made her gasp and then proved to be so agreeable that she closed her eyes. His lips moved without haste along her neckline and she concluded with secret satisfaction that he was unwilling to withdraw.

The impropriety of that thought made her cheeks burn, yet Elizabeth was amazed that it all felt so perfectly natural and her hand moved to stroke the thick curls below her eyes. The moment she touched his head, Darcy raised it slowly to meet her gaze. His eyes were intent upon her countenance; it was as if he meant to interpret the slightest shift in her expression.

The love discernible on his face made her aware of his thoughtfulness, his gentle consideration, and she was possessed by tenderness. All bashfulness was temporarily forgotten as she smiled into his dark eyes and cupped her hands under his jawbones. Lovingly holding his face thus she leaned forward to kiss it softly.

Excited to be the object of her sweet caresses Darcy drew breath and moved closer, his hands grasping her upper arms. He tried to stay immobile but the tickling sensation of her mouth on his skin was too unnerving, compelling him to partake. This was done with great caution, for his lips were barely touching her face as they began their search for hers. Although restrained his zest was unmistakable.

Elizabeth was somehow confused by this. She had not been long about kissing his cheeks and forehead, but since his behaviour up to this day, with few exceptions, had been guided by moderation, it was strangely unsettling that he should be so energetic. One moment fairly bold the next almost coy, her initiative brave if he seemed meek and when this, quite understandably, fuelled his advances, she hesitated again. Thus their way of expressing their emotions swelled to and fro, much like some ancient ritual of combat performed in a pattern of attack and retreat, probably to be dated back to when the first civilised man wooed the woman that held his heart.

Though intimidated from time to time, uncertain of what to expect from this fairly unknown side of her husband, she was still warmed by his devotion to their amorous activity. This new eagerness of his filled her with shy anticipation as his hands slid down her arms and, proceeding from there, stroked her back until she was completely encircled by his arms. He found the corner of her mouth to plant feathery kisses near it and on her chin and nose also, but he always returned to where he started. Finally, when the skin on her face was tingling, his lips remained against hers, their gentle yet unrelenting pressure urging her to respond. She knew not why she hesitated to do so, and only sank passively into his embrace, dizzily abandoning herself to him.

When the soft form in his arms suddenly became pliant, Darcy pulled back with the intention of watching her countenance, but his gaze was hopelessly drawn to her mouth. It had been his wish to kiss those lips properly for months and the knowledge that all hindrance was gone was impossible to ignore. The warmth of his breath upon her face unsettled her just as sensing his gaze she attempted a smile into his searching eyes. She shivered to feel how he caught her upper lip between his, stroking it, nibbling it until, with a long unsteady sigh, her lips parted giving in to his zealous demand.

Her submission caused a surge of desire in her husband and without pausing he moved to the tempting fullness of her lower lip. He forced himself to suck it gently and when she sighed again, clutching the lapels of his robe, this sign of her consent induced him to tighten his arms, securing her more firmly in his embrace. He had kissed the last of her hesitation away and succumbed to the enticement offered by that half open mouth against his. Her panting breath mingling with his made him moan softly as the sweet ache in his teeth and lips impelled him to quench his thirst for her by letting the kiss deepen.

At first Elizabeth was surprised to have him caress her mouth in this manner though she had been for some time curiously expecting something of the kind. Trembling in his arms, gradually seduced by his lips, she began to wonder whether she dared act upon her own ideas, for his ministrations made her feel both weak and demanding. She had only bestowed a few devoted but maidenly kisses upon his mouth, rather like the ones placed on his face before he took command.

Whenever they had kissed during their courtship Darcy had been careful to interrupt the pleasure, often too early in her opinion, though he had tried, discreetly, to make her understand his reasons. Not fully grasping them, Elizabeth had still realised that she would have to wait until after their wedding to fully experience this intriguing form of endearment. Now she could see why he had allowed them to taste this sweetness only briefly, for as the kisses deepened, their actions seemed to be guided by inevitability, much like a natural force.

She felt his hands move up her arms and over her shoulders in a most determined manner. The next minute they stroked down to rest against the small of her back and were pulling her even closer. The craving, which had recently awakened in her was enhanced by the cautious movements of his mouth. When he made a pause to draw back and examine her face, he was not allowed to do so for long before Elizabeth closed the distance and hesitantly tasted the soft, strangely exciting curve of his lips. Her husband's response was quite violent as one hand traced the curve of her back up to the nape of her neck. Her head was fixed as in a vice when he pressed his mouth to hers. Then his grip slackened, his cheek rasped her skin and he mumbled passionately in her ear.

Overwhelmed and in a daze to feel his reaction near her she smiled wantonly; his strong hands and agitated voice conspired to send thrills down her spine and the sensation of his slightly rough chin against her face was an unexpected reason for excitement. The fact that he was at last partaking in their embrace without restraint caused a delighted reflection. I knew it would be lovely when he forgot about propriety.

The next thought of some coherence after realising that he was as affected as she was that his past hardship must have been worse than hers. How he must have held back! Had I known what kisses could be, had I been aware of the pleasure we were deprived of, would I have behaved with such moderation? Pondering the cautious unselfish nature of his actions and realising the extent of his responsibility during the time of courtship caused a wave of love for him to sweep over her. With a sigh she slipped her fingers into his hair, cupping her hands around the back of his head. He is truly the most excellent man! Such tender feelings mingled with the escalating heat made the kisses taste even sweeter.

Darcy had registered the heightened confidence in his lady and her tentative response could only increase his ardour. Through his heated mind ran a light-hearted thought. The cold water is no longer a threat.He tasted her mouth, cautiously exploring the delights of it with his tongue and breathing in her scent, while his passion was inexorably heightened also by the silken form of her body under his hands. Who could blame a man, who is finally, after many months of agony and distress, alone with his beloved for permitting himself to sink in the sweet warmth of pleasure?

Elizabeth had been holding on to him since he took over the initiative. But, as the minutes passed, with his ardour ever building and his warm hands continuously exciting her, the dizzying new sensations were making her unspeakably feeble until she feared that she might be fainting or … something. Seeking an opportunity to recover she tried to disengage her arms and push him back.

At first her attempts to free herself were not very determined, and so it took a while before Darcy noticed the hand that was pressing against his chest. When he did, he immediately released his hold.

`Elizabeth, … my loveliest ... what is the matter?'

His respiration was strained and her reply was delivered in gasps.

`Oh I just felt … I am not sure … somehow dizzy.'

As she appeared to be nearly out of breath his aroused face turned regretful. He knew he had allowed himself to be carried away by her response.

' Sweet lady, I'm such a brute! For how long have you been ... trying to free yourself?'

`Oh no sir, I assure you, `twas not long. I was quite happy where I was ... .'

`You were?'

There was something infinitely endearing about the smile on his countenance - relief and … shyness? No matter what, she sensed a pleasant flutter in the pit of her stomach, which made her fling her arms around his neck and lift her face towards his with an almost coquettish gaze.

`And … are you pleased, Mr. Darcy?'

His eyes touched upon her blushing lips, his senses were very much aware of the soft pressure of her form but he resisted the allurement and regarded her warmly before he shifted to pull them both to their feet. My sweet darling. `Pleased' does not even begin to describe my feelings. You do not realise the power you hold over me. He resorted to some light teasing.

`Need you ask, Elizabeth? Have I not abandoned reason to behave like a husband madly in love with his wife? At the risk of suffocating her even ... . Come, let us find some fresh air, shall we?'

[As she appeared to be nearly out of breath his aroused face turned regretful. He knew he had allowed himself to be carried away by her response.

' Sweet lady, I'm such a brute! For how long have you been ... trying to free yourself?'

`Oh no sir, I assure you, `twas not long. I was quite happy where I was ... .'

`You were?'

There was something infinitely endearing about the smile on his countenance - relief and … shyness? No matter what, she sensed a pleasant flutter in the pit of her stomach, which made her fling her arms around his neck and lift her face towards his with an almost coquettish gaze.

`And … are you pleased, Mr. Darcy?'

His eyes touched upon her blushing lips, his senses were very much aware of the soft pressure of her form but he resisted the allurement and regarded her warmly before he shifted to pull them both to their feet. My sweet darling. `Pleased' does not even begin to describe my feelings. You do not realise the power you hold over me. He resorted to some light teasing.

`Need you ask, Elizabeth? Have I not abandoned reason to behave like a husband madly in love with his wife? At the risk of suffocating her even ... . Come, let us find some fresh air, shall we?']

Part B

He found the notion of a cooling breeze appealing for his head was spinning with the impressions of this first uninhibited tęte-ŕ-tęte with Elizabeth. Hence his readiness to resort to such an evasive manoeuvre as was the result of his recent suggestion - in truth only partly intended for the benefit of a wife whose breath he had taken away. He allowed himself a tiny smile of happiness on that account, for she had proved to be as lovely as he had anticipated; hesitant at first, but little by little warming to his advances and reciprocating his endearments sweetly. Were he to stay ahead of his own feelings, however, and in charge of his carnal inclination, any interruption would be beneficial. Very little was needed to shatter his composure as he had constant proof. Even now, as his glances swept over the soft flower-scented creature before him, the intriguing message she sent him from under dark lashes threatened to assault his calm.

This is my wife, he told himself, young and vulnerable and there is none to protect her but me. Considering briefly that at present, he himself constituted the main threat, he continued in defence. Well I am trying to, am I not? - Are you, indeed, he challenged. How come she had to fight to get out of your grasp? Initially struck by the truth of this, he soon knew how to protest. Come now, I have done nothing to cause her objections. She told me so herself and I have recent proof in the warmth of her response. He closed his eyes, but his facial expression betrayed how this affected him. True enough, she is very tender and devoted, he paused, yet innocent; you had better bear that in mind.

It had not taken him long to carry out this internal deliberation but, while doing so his eyes returned to the lady's face and seeing an air both insecure and expectant made him wonder if his features had unknowingly revealed too much. What is she thinking? He hastened to put an end to it. I should not presume to know her heart so soon. She is temptation incarnate, and that calls for a well-composed and watchful frame of mind. Determined to curb his feelings for a little longer, and endeavouring to present composed features, he extended his arm with a strict bow.

They walked over to the nearest window, which, after separating the curtains, Darcy opened enough to allow a full view out into the winter's night. Elizabeth was left to ponder the evidence of rapidly shifting sentiments on his features and divine what secret thoughts might have occasioned them. He smiles, turns serious, looks worried… or … I know not what … affected?and finally concerned. Still a little breathless, she observed her unpredictable husband, thinking how his arm had been offered as if they were about to take a turn in the park. But as soon as he left the window, he returned to seize her hand in a tight grip and pull her near to him with a subdued appeal.

`Come over here! Look, Elizabeth!'

Complying with the urgency of that warm hand and low voice she did as she was bid though the puzzlement was still there. Thus side by side they stood, silently inhaling the frost-scented chilliness, bewildered and thoroughly attracted by the enigmatic personality of the other.

Snow had been falling sparsely earlier in the evening. The trees and bushes in the centre of the square were slightly powdered and, since there were no footprints marring the pavement or the ground in the small park area, the white cover lent a virgin appearance to the whole of Portnam Square. During the last hour the clouds had dissolved and a thin, almost transparent sliver of moon shed a pale light that made the snow crystals glitter faintly and the shadows under the bare branches appear pitch dark.

The dazed bride let her gaze wander over the nocturnal scenery, admiring the beauty of it and endeavouring to penetrate the black spaces in the shrubbery that seemed likely to hide any kind of supernatural being. She then raised her eyes to the dark, silver-strewn canopy and somewhat reluctantly, for she was not quite ready to accept the upheaval of her emotions, heard herself whisper.

`Oh yes, it is beautiful The sky must be enchanted. And so - it seems to me - are the houses and trees. It is almost ridiculous the way it all looks like something out of a fairytale!'

He squeezed her hand but did not answer. Elizabeth contemplated the darkness outside, dreamily aware of her enviable, shielded situation, and as the night air swept over her bare shoulders attempted in vain to withhold a shiver. Her attentive husband placed his arm around her for protection and after a surreptitious glance over the front of her silken attire, moved to pull her away from the freezing wind.

`I would say the night is enchanted, Elizabeth. But even so, most beloved fairy queen, I fear the air is too cold for one clad in spiders' web. It is winter after all.'

While she stood sheltered by his tall frame and listening to the affectionate note in that deep voice, emotions welled up inside her. She lifted her gaze again, this time to look at her husband and though the gleaming lustre of her eyes worked its well-known magic on him, the tears that seemed to cloud them worried him.

`Elizabeth?'

`You will consider me silly, I know, but … oh, Fitzwilliam! When I think back on this glorious day and ahead on the days to come, I feel my happiness is so unmerited. What have I done to deserve your love?`

Tenderness overwhelmed him, causing his heart to spill over in a sincere declaration.

`My dearly beloved, you need not do anything. I love you for who you are; the loveliest and most sensible among women. It would be more appropriate for me to pose that same question.'

`But you are simply the best man I have ever known.'

The words were spoken without the slightest hesitation; her entire being radiant with happiness at his declaration while she reflected again that Fate had been benevolent in sending Darcy to Hertfordshire. That it had wisely insisted upon throwing them in each other's way. How infinitely grateful she was that they had been offered more than one opportunity to meet, since at first neither of them realised what was before them!

It had been many weeks since last she went over the coincidences of their past in her mind, but now she did, returning the pressure of his hand and, in order to see his dear face more clearly, blinking the moisture from her eyes.

What if she had not overheard his slighting remark on that memorable assembly when first he came into Hertfordshire society to vex all of Meryton? What if Jane's amiable person had not caught Mr Bingley's attention and that of his sisters? What if they had not been forced to stay under the same roof when she came to assist Jane during her illness? What if she had not been taken in by Mr Wickham and thus inclined to listen to his malicious slander. What if she had not received an invitation from Charlotte Collins to visit her new home in Kent at that time near Easter when Mr Darcy paid his yearly polite visit to his aunt?

What if he had not been such a dutiful man with unrelenting consideration for the requirements of family obligations and determined that she should know of his doubts in offering for her hand? What if she had not reacted emotionally to his insulting declarations, completely disregarding the great advantage such a match would mean to herself and her family? What if his intense dislike of deceit had not made him prone to inform her of the truth, as he knew it in a letter? What if she had not been accompanying her aunt and uncle on their trip to Derbyshire? What if Lydia had not been thoughtless enough to elope with Mr Wickham?

Yes, Fate had brought them together and driven them apart repeatedly and through all of those whims facilitated their arrival at a more mature appreciation of each other. Indeed, if they had not been made to face the months of separation, Mr Darcy might never have deemed it of fundamental import to trust her with his elucidatory letter nor been left to consider every implication of her unexpected refusal. She was convinced that time had been crucial to her, enabling her to contemplate at length the man behind the words and rectify her own perceptions. When they had arrived at an understanding, Darcy assured her of similar proceedings of his own before he knew her value beyond the obvious charms of attractiveness and intelligence that initially captivated him.

This drawn-out period of many months had involved a process necessary to open their eyes, as they had booth initially been blinded by prejudice, mislead by pride and only later forced to see and humbly admit their mistakes. The change in outlook had indeed been painful while it came about, yet now it seemed the complicated and slow development of their acquaintance had merely worked to unite them. There was no other so close to her heart and mind as Darcy.

Her words and actions had appeared an irresistible invitation at first, but seeing the thoughtfulness on her face, he was content to lift her hand and kiss it softly. Else he stayed immobile admiring the inscrutable pools of her eyes, trying to guess what were the thoughts that made them shift and glimmer so temptingly. When her musings brought her back to her husband's person, she noticed his gaze and moved nearer, seeking the comfort and strength he emanated, but also with another shiver, refuge within his embrace. He saw it and a wonderful possibility presented itself. I wonder if I may be so bold as to ….

Acting upon this inspiration as he led her further away from the window, he loosened the sash of his woollen robe and opened it to pull her into the warmth of its dark-blue folds. Whatever he had expected to be his wife's reaction, he soon understood this initiative was all but disagreeable to her. For though Elizabeth's cheeks turned rosy from his unforeseen advance and the subsequent proximity to her husband, she snuggled close to him with a whisper.

`If you were not so attentive, I might have turned into a frozen statue.'

She bored her nose into his neck-cloth inhaling the warm scent of sandalwood. His voice was thick with emotion and he smiled down on the soft curls beneath his chin.

`I would find myself embracing a fair but frore maiden? Enchanting as that might have been, I infinitely prefer this warm and lovely Elizabeth.'

Clasping her to his heart and willing himself to hold her tenderly while keeping other impulses, ignited by the soft body in his arms, in check, Darcy swept the cloth firmly around them.

They were savouring this unaccustomed nearness until a particularly ferocious gust of wind made the curtain billow violently. Through the rattling window came an imperative winter reminder when a dust of powdered snow from the windowsill blew in, compelling the bridegroom to most unwillingly abandon his bride in order to shut it. The shock from being exposed to such crisp air after the snug haven provided by his robe made her shudder anew, where she stood watching him curiously spellbound by his every move. His strong, beautiful hands clutched the green velvet when he pulled the deep folds of heavy fabric closely together and she saw how broad his shoulders were beneath the extended cloth of his dressing gown.

She felt as if she had been found out doing something unseemly, when he turned unexpectedly towards her before she had time to look elsewhere. Hastily lowering her head with face flushed she pretended to ponder the pattern of blue tendrils on the carpet. Darcy had noticed her exploring gaze, however, and was thrilled to have caught her studying him like that; her look had been so warm and ... perhaps even hungry? He could sense her embarrassment and perceive her blush but was wickedly pleased when he resumed his place next to her.

Avoiding the scrutiny of his eyes and striving to be back near his warmth she slid her arms boldly around her husband's waist under the now loosely hanging robe. An appreciative embrace welcomed her return; her cheek brushed against his silken waistcoat and that was when she really registered how he was dressed. From sincere amazement she stepped back and her eyes darted from the elegant embroidered garment to his somewhat ruffled but dexterously tied cravat. The words escaped her before she had time to reflect.

' But ... you are very formally attired, sir?'

He seemed bewildered and, with earlobes slowly turning pink, stuttered.

`I ... hrm ... I did not know, that is ... I was not sure how to ... .'

His voice faded away and now in his turn, he looked at her as if he had been caught in the middle of some inadmissible mischief. Her exclamation had taken him by surprise, since the blissful time recently spent in her company had made him oblivious to everything outside that room.

Earlier in the evening, when he was about to enter her bedchamber, he had been in disagreement with and slightly worried by what seemed to be customary procedure. Once he was in her company, he forgot. It was only during the short period of time that elapsed until he was under her spell again, that he had been aware his attire might cause amazement and speculation.

The truth was that he had hesitated to enter her room in his night-shirt, shrinking from the awkwardness of such appearance. On the other hand he had reasoned that it would be odd to join her fully dressed. The delicate nature of the business had in fact caused him considerable trouble and in the end perhaps even cost him the temporary loss of the good terms, which usually marked his relationship with his valet.

After spending the first evening as a married man at Portnam Square Mr Darcy had retired to his chambers. From the moment he stepped inside and was greeted by his manservant's expectant bow, he had somehow resented Roget's discreet presence, sensing an unwanted readiness in him. It was as if the attentions of his valet had all of a sudden turned bothersome.

At first he attempted to disregard his unease by adhering to routine. On a minor sideboard was an accumulated pile; the mail that had arrived since last he was in town had been brought from his study. Darcy picked a few letters from Pemberley and seated himself by the fireplace with the intention of passing a couple of minutes. Women do need more time to get dressed - and consequently, would that not have to be valid also when they are about to undress? He creased his brow, inwardly berating himself that such musings would only defeat his object - which was to secure some peace of mind. His upper lip was pulled into an ironic curve. If indeed such a thing is possible with a bumblebee constantly buzzing around your ears. Although Roget was well trained and made little noise while attending his duties, this night his mere presence proved to be continuously disturbing.

Endeavour as he might to keep his concentration on the letter in hand, his mind would not yield to the effort but repeatedly allowed his surroundings to intrude. This was particularly annoying since this encroachment was not confined to the immediate vicinity, that which he was able to see with his eyes, but also comprised what he could imagine to be taking place beyond the wall.

I do hope Elizabeth finds that new maid tolerable! If her sentiments are anything like mine, the presence of a stranger could be … . I would not wish … oh well, if the girl is not to her liking I shall have Tuddler see to it, first thing in the morning. Ehr… well as soon as I get to talk to her that is … . What is that man up to now? I'll be damned if ever I saw more fuss. A sound made him forget about Roget and the letter sank to his lap. He strained his hearing and thought he could discern a soft murmur of voices from the adjoining room. There seems to be conversation. Perhaps there is no reason to doubt Tuddler's judgement. He was interrupted by a scraping from the fireplace where Roget was putting the poker to use and was about to reprimand him but got hold of himself. Come now, Darcy! There is no way you can achieve a noiseless rearrangement of logs, is there? I seem to be slightly on edge, but sometimes Roget has this ability to vex me. Why can't the man just do what he is meant to and leave it at that? There is an air about him tonight that is hard to endure ….

Darcy found himself uncomfortably aware of the night attire that had been laid out for him by his valet. So much so that he very soon threw the items of communication back on a table and abandoned his chair. Indecisively moving about his apartment he vacillated between different solutions until, suddenly realising that he had no wish to involve Roget in a matter of such privacy, he stopped short and returned to his letters. Resuming the perusal of a missive from his steward he feigned an interest in late autumn agricultural management in Derbyshire, before he cleared his throat to dismiss his valet in passing and without even raising his gaze from Mr McNab's report.

`I shan't be needing you any further, Roget.'

It was done quite unexpectedly and to the latter's undisguised amazement.

`But sir! I am not finished and …would you not wish my assistance in … ?'

Roget made a grand gesture, his entire arm indicating the dressing room.

`No, no, that will be all, thank you.'

His master's voice was abrupt, and he only looked up briefly, but Roget felt the need to insist.

`Pardon me, what hour would you wish morning tea, Mr Darcy? `

Impatience coloured the answer but then followed an inquiry that offered some consolation.

`I shall send for it. Have my instructions concerning the fireplace in Mrs Darcy's apartment been executed?'

`Why yes, certainly. A good blaze and an ample supply of firewood, sir.'

He obtained some extent of redress from the look of approval.

`Very good. Await my call on the morrow then. Good night, Roget.'

`Good night, Mr Darcy.'

Not at all content to be sent away before his duties were completed the valet bowed in reluctant acknowledgement. He was too well aware of his master's unrelenting moods and indeed of his own authority to state his opinion, but the pursed lips on his, in other respects, expressionless face did not escape Darcy. The signs of displeasure were ignored, however, and he was surprised by the sensation of profound relief that pervaded him as the door closed behind his servant. The recollection of Roget's unsuccessful attempts to conceal his disapproval even brought a tiny smile.

Darcy also realised he had unconsciously been prepared for this kind of reaction; Roget was an excellent man with few faults, but he was at times somewhat officious. On past occasions, when his master was to partake in social events of major consequence Roget's exaggerated sense of responsibility had been a source of irritation. This was why he had neither bothered to try to get the man back for this short London sojourn nor hired another trained valet to take his place. He would rather manage without expert help than risk the interference of a stranger. Hudson or even one of the experienced footmen would have been able to provide the assistance required and certainly more easily handled.

When he had arrived thus far in his musings a minor objection began to gnaw at his conscience and he stood and walked over to the dressing room door. He contemplated the perfect order that prevailed in there as a result of Roget's resumption of his duties, decided that he would be liberal with his appreciation the next day and finally glanced over his shoulder towards his bed. Another evidence of solicitude and a work well performed could be inspected there; the assortment of fine night-clothes, shirt spread on the emerald-green bedcover, calf skin slippers standing beneath the bed and a warm robe hanging over the back of a nearby chair.

He drew a deep breath and turned to approach the window. As a result of his interference with Roget's evening schedule, the curtains were not yet drawn and he positioned himself to stare out into the London night, as was his habit. The brilliancy of the stars soon brought a pair of fine eyes to mind. What might Elizabeth be doing? Was she standing by her window, looking at the same dark sky? You fool! In all likelihood she is getting ready for the night, which is what you should be doing as well.He turned to face the displeasing display once more. His eyes flickered to the door that led to her apartment and back to the exquisite white ruffles of his linen garment. Incidentally he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the tall mirror and the air of misgiving on his face made him slowly shake his head. His mind was made up.

¤¤¤¤¤

Finally, after removing watch and seal and emptying his pockets, he had only replaced the coat with his dressing gown and eased his feet into the slippers. He did not considered the woollen robe to be as self-assertive.

While Darcy was dealing with his recent dilemma, his wife was singularly reassured to see his handsome face stirred by distress. Far from regretting the evidence of bewilderment she found it endearing and had detected this insecurity in him with a tender smile. Momentarily emboldened to know she was not alone in her unease, she suggested that he should remove the robe.

`It has served its purpose appropriately but must soon be too hot, now the window is closed ... what with the room being so nicely heated by the fire and ...'

Even as she spoke her resolve weakened giving way to an increasing confusion. Am I too bold? What is the implication of such a proposal? Am I asking him to undress?

His wife`s second thoughts would not have distressed Darcy, had he been at all able to guess them. He was well pleased to hear Elizabeth speak without excessive reservation, for he never considered her diffident by nature. Welcoming the opportunity, he quickly divested himself of his woollen garment and on turning back to her from the chair, where it had been carelessly dropped, was again thrilled to see the expression of admiration on the lady's face. Could it be possible that he was affecting Elizabeth even half as much as the sight of her in that soft attire affected him?

He searched her eyes and would have been even more pleased to know his wife's mind that instant. The fear of appearing unbecomingly forward was half forgot when she beheld him thus informally attired. He cuts a fine figure in that waistcoat. It sets off his shoulders and … . She lost track of her own thoughts for his frame certainly appeared to great advantage. The white shirtsleeves made him look decidedly masculine and in concert with the relentless fervour of his gaze, the sight seemed to melt her knees and made her long to be back within those caring arms. Could she let him know? She took a hesitant step in his direction murmuring with her gaze again demurely studying the carpet.

`Hold me, please.'

Was ever a plea more readily obeyed? His arms had felt unbearably empty so it was only to be expected that he should move to comply with her wish without delay. Elizabeth nestled near him and they stood in a close embrace again, his mouth breathing kisses into her hair. Like so many lovers before him he marvelled at his happiness. She's mine. She's so soft. The smell of summer's sweetness is in her hair. It's enough to drive a man from his senses. As if to emphasise his thoughts his beloved tilted her head, and the flickering of an eyelash against his neck provoked a shudder of tantalising pleasure. He held her closer to his chest, then slid his fingertips along her arm to find a hand and, pressing it fiercely to his lips, attempted to appease the fire that was smouldering inside him, before he whispered.

`I love you most ardently, Elizabeth.'

Near the silken embroideries on his chest she smiled. Her hand was so safe within his, his vehement kiss and the sincerity of that whisper carried such promises that made her move a little to look seriously into his eyes. She brought his hand to her cheek and from there slid its palm slowly over her mouth to plant a devoted kiss in it and close his fingers.

`One to keep ... for you ... my amiable husband.'

He met her gaze with equal seriousness, keenly sensible of his fortune in having gained the right to share that particular intimacy.

`Elizabeth. Dearest wife.'

It was as if he sank into the clear, dark depths of her eyes where he stood holding her invisible token of love. Eventually his gaze moved to consider the hand she had made him close, and sheer happiness irresistibly curled his lips, before he opened it to stroke her cheek with the back of his fingers. Gingerly following the line of her neck until he reached the subtle contour of her collarbones, he let his fingers linger and delve into the small dent between them. The silken softness of her skin nearly led him astray, but his intention was important enough to help him stay sober. Assisted by a deep inhalation he focused his thoughts, and his face was contemplative as he spoke formally.

`Might I make a request?'

Giving way to his caress Elizabeth's eyelids had turned heavy so that her eyes were nearly shut, but the sound of his ceremonious address made her open them slowly. She believed all of her senses were concentrated on that spot where he touched her. Her knees were unsteady and when she answered, her voice was slightly broken as she tried to conceal some anxiety about the nature of his wish.

`Yes sir, I am listening.'

His heart softened by the intimidated sound of her faltering words and made him seize her face with both hands gently directing her eyes to meet his.

`My dearest, there is something missing here. I ... `

He broke off … her lips were so near to his, their shape tempting ... . He had to kiss them. She started, but fully enjoyed this new opportunity to be near him. His mouth was warm and tender yet seemed to drain her of strength. To steady herself she had to take hold of him, but the firm arms under his linen-shirt's smooth fabric enhanced the faintness that was slowly overpowering her.

Their kiss would not cease but grew in intensity, and his hands slid over her shoulders to pull her close. Lifting her arms to circle his neck Elizabeth gave in to the forceful embrace. Forgetful of every trained conduct and aroused by the sensation of his body near her she parted her lips allowing the kiss to deepen. Darcy moaned, grateful for an indication that she appeared to enjoy their privacy and deeply affected by the way her nearness was sending sensuous impulses all over his body. Seduced by these manifold sensations he took immense pleasure in her softness against his chest, the warmth of her hands through his shirt and on his skin, and now the hesitant movements of her tongue near his own. His hold on her tightened even further though with one half of his brain he still reminded himself to hold back. He must not lose his self-control completely.

This intuitive conduct of his had guided him through their courtship, and had been approved of and confirmed by his venerable uncle, who once advised him to hasten slowly. With mischievous disrespect, on occasions when he was not immediately concerned by the matter, Darcy secretly thought of it as The Earl's of Matlock Rule.

Mockery aside, he valued his old relative's advice as good and sound. Adhering to it was not always easy, yet every time she freely gave him some further token of her awakening feelings, he knew such proof of her affections was well worth his patience. He wanted her to lead the way, fully aware that in all probability he would set no limits if he let go of all restraint. There were moments when his body was literally aching for her.

Perhaps the strain on his control had never been greater than during this sweet kiss, with her tongue lingering beguilingly against his own, and he deemed it wise to break off their embrace before long. They were both under the influence of that jolting kiss and in an agitated state, but after a deep trembling inhalation, Elizabeth managed a raised brow and a connection to his recent statement.

`Missing, sir? I fail to understand your meaning.'

The hint of her usual impertinence was bothering. He could not resist the risk involved in stealing another though briefer kiss from those teasing lips. Once that was accomplished, he took to explaining himself in a somewhat rasping voice.

` Madam, it is now more than a year since I first caught sight of your bewitching person. It was not long before you had me snared and captured, though `twas done altogether unintentionally and even with the utmost antipathy against me... as I was later to learn.'

A brief reflection of the agony he had once suffered clouded his face and Elizabeth placed her hand soothingly against his cheek. Its curative virtue was all he needed to continue.

`Despite the fact that at the time I was neither sufficiently aware of my incomparable luck in meeting you, nor civilised enough to inform you of my affections properly... .'

He pulled back and sent her a warm gaze, an enchanting mixture of earnest admiration and tender mischief. Elizabeth stared at her enigmatic husband, for despite the sincere, almost reverent, affection she had just seen in his gaze, his eyes suddenly glittered and his teeth flashed. How that fleeting grin captivated her! When he spoke again his voice deepened and there was no mistaking the genuine emotions that compelled him to inform her of his object.

`Better not dwell on such mortifying remembrances. What I am aiming at is, that almost every day of those weeks, months, eternities of my ever-growing admiration, you have been wearing a piece of jewellery... .'

Elizabeth had been listening compassionately, and mounting astonishment was plainly mirrored on her countenance when she searched his face. He paused to circle her neck lightly with his fingers, and his dark eyes watched her with strange intensity. She could not help but thrill with pleasure and inexplicable anticipation. The all too familiar heat floated through Darcy as he felt her reaction, yet he managed to proceed as he had intended.

`Around this lovely throat of yours there is usually … that tiny red cross.'

The huge old clock on the wall outside the linen room was nearing ten when one of the upstairs maids informed Ellen Bradley that she had been summoned to her lady's bedchamber. Since seven o'clock she had been alert, at first awaiting Mrs Darcy's ring and trying to keep herself occupied near the bells downstairs. But, as the hours passed with no signs of life from her mistress, she had abandoned some of her attentive attitude to tend to other chores, especially since the instructions from Mrs Tuddler had been unambiguous. No servants were to disturb the couple until called for and the time of day was to be completely disregarded.

`Those are the master's explicit orders … and they take precedence no matter what Mrs Darcy might say to you.'

The housekeeper had looked away, intent on hiding her facial expression as she recalled the hint of impertinence she had imagined being implicit in Roget's words when he conveyed their master's message to her.

`Mr Darcy requests that they be left alone. He expressly forbade that there be any fussing with the fire or that hot water be brought up at the break of dawn. I suppose he reckons they will both be exhausted after the wedding ceremonies, that long journey on muddy roads and all …apparently he intends to sleep well into the day … . Perhaps we won't see them until midday.'

Roget regarded Mrs Tuddler but saw no reaction whatsoever, whether in agreement with his conjectures or in opposition to them, so he shrugged his shoulders and tried another approach.

`Bullock told me there was an incident with one of the horses. Little wonder I'd say when you're on the roads this time of year. Bound to be a jolting, uncomfortable transportation.'

Searching in vain for a spark of interest in the face before him he had to abandon hope of a nice chat. He was anxious to know what changes would be imposed upon them as a result of Mr Darcy's marriage and could not imagine that Tuddler was not. Why would she be different from any other member of the staff? He valued her opinion and had more or less anticipated an opportunity to compare impressions over a cup of tea in the housekeeper's room, but seeing her repudiating features he turned slightly morose.

` The master would give no specific hour for bringing the tea tray either. Even seemed displeased when I asked him, so I thought it best to keep my silence. Everybody needs to be told, however, we are to await his call.'

Roget was a bachelor and though a married woman of many years herself, Mrs Tuddler did not see fit to share any thoughts on a matter concerning the privacy of their master and mistress. She could not be certain but in her opinion the mere mentioning of exhaustion and sleep came close enough to unseemly speculations.

Initially somewhat annoyed by this, she had not intended to offer him any answer at all, but just nodded and turned to walk away. Then his discernment in talking to her instead of young, inexperienced Miss Bradley reminded her that after all and on the whole he was an excellent, highly reliable man. Her features turned less stern as she hastened to assure him that she would indeed warn them all downstairs and have a word with Mrs Darcy's maid. She hoped Ellen would not question the justification of such instructions and demand to be enlightened as to the reason that she should deviate from the unwritten rule of every abigail; to always heed her mistress's wishes above all.

But being so recently appointed the lady's maid of Mrs Darcy at Portnam Square, Ellen Bradley was too new to her position to dare question an order from the very woman who had made her fortune by allotting such a sought after position to her. Furthermore she was imaginative and to her mind, the wish for privacy was perfectly sensible in a couple in love. Thus she had seen no cause to place obstacles. Besides there had been no need to betray her loyalty for, as it turned out, Mrs Darcy had been distracted last night and not at all disposed to give orders.

The red-cheeked girl who had been sent by an exacting and dutiful Mrs Tuddler - more than ever conscious of her responsibility, now there was a mistress to please - was out of breath from running up the back stairs all the way from the servant's hall. She was only too much aware of the import of her errand but that did not help. Her agitation in collaboration with her present lack of air rendered her speech barely comprehensible.

`There was … you must hurry … Mrs Tuddler says … the bell! I was the first one to hear it … but you must answer it at once. You are wanted in Mrs Darcy's chambers!'

After that initial stuttering the winded girl's message finally made sense and although infected by her haste, Ellen turned her attention back to the mangled linen items she had been sorting. She swiftly added three more neatly folded towels to the sheaf, placing them next to the other piles on the shelf before she abandoned the room to pay heed to the summons.

She started out in such a bustle that she almost tripped over the doorstep when she left the excited and still panting maid behind to hurry along the hallway. But then her common sense took control and she regained her balance to proceed in a more temperate speed. Stopping only to check her appearance in one of the tall gold-framed mirrors, she adjusted her apron straps. Miss Bradley had never waited on a married couple before and now tried to remember what she had been taught. She smoothed back the curly locks of hair above her forehead silently muttering to herself. Take care not to cause any unnecessary noise. Keep your voice down! Never look at anything in particular, but for when you are spoken to! Do not give any amazement away! Stay concentrated on your task! Above all, be discreet! With Mrs Tuddler's instructions ringing in her head she drew breath and knocked at the shining oak door.

As soon as she heard an answer in the affirmative, she entered almost hesitantly, taking care to close the door with caution, and turned gingerly, not sure what sight to expect. She did not see anything to upset her though, apart from Mr Darcy's stately figure near the mantle-piece. His blue woollen robe was held together by its tightly tied sash and his attention seemed to be arrested by the remnant of the night's fire. Apparently she had not been altogether noiseless, perhaps he heard the squeaking of the door, for he turned to face her and his faraway look changed into a brief but kind smile. His behaviour was in conformity with hers, that is governed by consideration for Mrs Darcy whom he obviously had no wish to rouse from her sleep, for when he opened his mouth, he addressed her in a subdued voice.

`Good morning, Ellen. Would you please have someone see to it that this fire is fed … and I would like some breakfast brought here. Tea, coffee, ham and eggs … nothing fancy. Hm, some preserves I imagine. You might as well talk to Mrs Tuddler on the matter.'

She curtsied and answered him nervously, anxious that she would not appear to be lacking in civility but with a thrill of joy also, gratified that he was familiar with her name already.

`Good morning, sir. Very well, Mr Darcy, sir. I'll see to it at once, si… .'

Initially she had made a point of looking him in the eye but, realising she must appear servile in the extreme, self-consciously avoided his gaze as she tried to swallow that last `sir'. Although she did try to check her curiosity, her glances happened upon a disorderly heap of clothes on the bench at the foot-end of the huge bed and when she hurriedly looked elsewhere she noticed a thin slot in the green velvet by the window.

`And … would you have me pull the curtains aside, Mr Darcy?'

He fastened his eyes on the narrow streak of light on the carpet. After a stealthy glance towards the bed, the corner of his mouth strove upwards as he replied.

`No, we shall not allow the daylight in just yet.'

`Very good, sir.'

She bobbed in acknowledgement and, deliberately avoiding to give another thought to Mrs Darcy, moved to carry out the master's instructions. Mr Darcy then seemed to get another idea for he spoke again.

`If you would make preparations for a bath to be drawn in about an hour, I think Mrs Darcy might be grateful.'

`Why yes, of course, Mr Darcy. I shall do that.'

Her hand was already on the doorknob and about to turn it when sounds could be heard from behind the drawn bed-curtains. As she turned the knob she registered from the corner of her eye that Mr Darcy was sauntering towards the bed with a smile on his face.

She stood for a moment outside the closed door, taking time to recollect herself. Mr Darcy certainly looked handsome … and to think Mrs Darcy was still in bed … so late in the morning! I suppose this is the way of newlyweds. A low murmuring from the room she just left reminded her of her duties. Chasing away her speculations she hurried off to find a housemaid and Mrs Tuddler and set the kitchen staff to work.

¤¤¤¤

It is by no means unheard of - nor is it a matter of profound amazement - that the long awaited fulfilment of a passionate gentleman's dearest hopes might impress him deeply. No wonder then, that scenes from the past day and night were replayed in Darcy's mind where he stood awaiting a servant on that first morning in his wife's bedchamber. In order to absorb the faint warmth he was leaning against the mantelpiece supported by one hand, while he allowed many disparate thoughts to cross his mind. How Elizabeth had looked, what she had done, how he had felt, what she had spoken. What he had planned to say and do compared to what had actually taken place, often beyond his imagination and control.

The conceptions he had dared harbour in advance were mostly come to nought, but in their place had been something else, something different and because of the unpredictability of events something more joyous. He understood that their first union had been less difficult than he had been bent to expect. Her low plea to him, so infinitely touching, he believed to be foremost caused by incredulity and when she tilted her head to press her lips devotedly against his arm, his vague apprehensions were chased away. That kiss had been precious and the memory of it brought a deep contented sigh as he stared into the last glowing embers of the nearly expired blaze.

A night of love, yes, and passionate embraces, certainly, but in addition to that, a night filled with such nearness of spirit and mutual understanding, the like of which he had not been able to foresee. Disregarding - though that in itself was not a thing easily done - the intimate recollection of her generous warmth and sweet amazement on experiencing new ways of love, there was one occasion in particular upon which he would always look back fondly: The moment when he had finally confessed to his beloved the signification and significance he attached to her garnet cross. Furthermore he had told her that it had long been so, during most of their acquaintance, even before they had arrived at an understanding. He felt that somehow the cross could be considered a key to their growing intimacy. A train of events originated from that confession. Had they not sought out her dressing-room last night…

Arrived as far in his recollections, he was interrupted by a knock at the door and he answered absentmindedly, reluctant to abandon his pleasant thoughts. But he recollected himself and turned to face Elizabeth's maid. After the few orders had been issued came the sleepy sounds from behind the bed-curtains inducing him to stroll back towards the bed with a secret smile at his newly found confidence in doing so. Last night he had been far from such composure!

¤¤¤¤

The audible evidence of Elizabeth moving and a small yawn had made him prick up his ears when the girl made to leave the bedroom. Then came a sigh and Darcy who had shifted on hearing the first sound, was irresistibly drawn towards the grand lit. Can it be that she's awake?

¤¤¤¤

She had been so soundly asleep when the chilled air against his face and a rumbling stomach made him slid cautiously from her bed to don his robe and pull the bell-string. He had been eager to have her conscious but out of concern for her wellbeing had conquered his first selfish impulse to wake her up with caresses. Instead he had moved about her bedchamber in a sneaking manner, careful to not disturb her indispensable repose. After stirring the few embers into a faint glow, waiting for the assistance of a servant near the hearth, he had been content to indulge in happy reflections.

Not many things would be allowed to disturb the happiness of a husband and wife so much in love, while they are taking their first steps on that long, winding path of lifelong commitment. Though they are bound to find later on, that the voyage will not always be a joyous and a carefree one, on that first private encounter the wonder of looking into a pair of eyes brimming with affection and affinity will help to overshadow every awkward difficulty.

Thus Darcy - filled with gratitude - concluded that the past night had been one of blissful felicity, as perfect as could be expected when two lovers meet for the first time as man and woman. The experience offered them, though neither complete nor untainted, had been quite sufficient to bring the joy their loving hearts had wished and hoped for.

This revelation of happiness had inspired him a few hours earlier when, moving with cautious tenderness in the shadows of night, he reduced the distance between himself and his sleeping wife. She presented an enchanting sight for his enamoured eyes where she lay wrapped in her cover, one lappet of lace from the sheets falling over her dark tresses and hiding parts of a faintly coloured cheek. If he were to judge from the look of it, hers must be pleasant dreams for a little smile played on her lips. He saw no reason to resist such a delightful allurement but as he adjusted his body near her warm form leaned over to brush the sheet aside and place a tender kiss upon her mouth. It would seem that happy smile was contagious for, when Darcy went back to sleep, it softened his lips as well.

¤¤¤¤

From thence also stemmed the smile on Mrs. Darcy's face much later when she woke up on this first morning of her marriage. She was smiling as the sound of voices filtered through the velvet bed-curtains seeping softly into her ears inducing her to turn her head among the pillows. Her smile deepened as the grey light of a December day seeped into her bedchamber and through the lashes of her squinting eye in much the same way. The combination of vague sound and hazy light made for a gentle awakening and she soon caught glimpses of the unfamiliar surroundings. My new bed … and my new home… . Elizabeth yawned and stretched out, drowsily wondering where her dearest husband had gone and if what she just heard might not be his voice.

He brought the gem to her attention, indicating the spot where it was usually found with a light touch; the sweet sensation rendered an immediate withdrawal of his fingers impossible and lured him instead into circling her graceful neck, slowly savouring its velvety texture. If ever a man was at a woman's mercy! Willingly so. A little smile crept onto his lips.

Literally from the moment when they left church to step out into the chilled December air, Darcy, henceto absorbed in the solemn and elevated aspects of the event had given way to unalloyed joy. But being such a private person he could not altogether neglect his customary regard for sober-minded respectability. Although he himself was warm enough, and soon to turn hot as they interchanged their first proper kiss in wedlock, he had understood that the day was only slightly tempered by the modest warmth of the winter sun, and when in the coach with Elizabeth had seen to it that she was protected with blankets and shawl. How sweet a picture she presented with eyes glittering, where she sat shielded from the sting of winter and shielded also from his impudent eyes.

As always he acknowledged the responsibility to see to it that what had been his - and would hereafter be their - good name would remain immaculate. Born and raised with the concept of impeccable behaviour ever before his eyes, in front of his own servants even, he had taken care to protect the well-reputed name of Darcy, and with it what one, outspoken but perhaps slightly less well behaved, relative had once referred to as 'the shades of Pemberley'.

From then on and as the day progressed he was aware of being inexorably drawn in by his bride. Knowing the capitulation of his heart to be long since accomplished he had been bravely defending his appearance of composure from the repeated attacks of Elizabeth's loveliness. Not always successfully - now and again laying down his arms when an unforeseen assault had caught him with his guard down or when he himself was unable to withhold a caress - but he was exercising tolerable self-control. He had thought it reasonable that their first time together would be but gradually proceeding towards the completion of their marriage. Hoping that they would come to feel comfortable together in private before taking matters any further and that when eventually they did, it would be Elizabeth's wish as well. He was certainly anxious to, but would give her time to adjust and was prepared to endure a refusal if at first she should hesitate to consummate their union. Although he had reason to hope that this would not happen.

Darcy looked upon any reference to marital rights as a barbaric notion, and had never considered a husband's abuse of power a laughing matter. At his club, after a long night of cards and liberal amounts of liquor, such base opinions might be expressed by a drunken gentleman, making light of masculine demonstrations of brutality,. There were members who would support this point of view, while others, Darcy among them, were disgusted and appalled. What he heard could only make him despise the loudmouthed ruffian and pity his wife. What kind of lifelong fellowship was that, where the husband had declared war against his wife, treating her no better than if she were the enemy? Surely a solitary existence must be preferred to such frightful prospects.

With renewed determination he had wished for himself a union ruled by love and mutual respect. And now he was that fortunate, finally legally united to the woman he loved more than he ever thought possible. The one woman he had ever wished to marry and when in the end she had consented, he knew beyond all doubt it was because she had come to love him back.

To him it was delightful to be alone with his beloved Elizabeth at leisure. Indeed he found himself deliriously happy, since he was now allowed to hold her close and whisper near her ear; to touch her soft mouth with his own or stare down into her pretty eyes for as long as he choose to. Thus he enjoyed even the smallest proof of her love.

Not that he was altogether selfless. Given the opportunity he would not refrain from attempts at persuading her, would probably even stoop to coax and did not consider some measure of gentle seduction beneath him. They were to stay in town for three days only and if such were his fate, it would not be unbearable to spend the first nights of wedlock in this fashion. If so, Pemberley might turn out to be where they would become man and wife in every respect. How could he seriously resent such appropriate expectations? Apart from these considerations there was something he would share with her, before he considered giving free rein to his emotions.

Therefore this added enticement was disquieting although they were on their own. He now had to deal with the violent pounding of his own heart as well as the question in her beautiful dark eyes, both rendering his body less co-operative and her cross was still the main issue. Perhaps she'll think me witless. If that is so, I'll just admit she's in the right. That she has driven me mad. Mad with love.

He wished to have her understand what that cross meant to him. How he had been fascinated by it, by its shifting colours glimmering against her pale complexion, secretly wishing he would be one day allowed to touch it … kiss it.... . Little had it mattered whether that treasured sight was actually before his eyes or only in his mind's eye. How it had tempted him all those wretched months! Even during that time when he had been far from her and convinced that she was beyond his reach forever.

In a peculiar way, the modest necklace had become a symbol. As if it carried the essence of all she was to him; as if it was summing up everything he so fervently desired.

After their disastrous meeting in Kent he had come to realise her true worth and had spent many hours contemplating what it would mean to have her by his side. With incontrovertible clarity he had understood that such an existence would never seem too heavy with duty. Nor burdened by the lonesome gloominess that had come over him more often of late, making him inclined to look upon the years that stretched out before him without enthusiasm.

The presence of someone so much alive, intelligent and unpredictable, so appositely witty yet kind must mean that even the dullest day might be lit up by a warm sparkle. How desperately he had wanted that light in his life! Dreaming or awake, these garnets, even their fiery shade of red, had brought her person before his eyes. A cross with its innate connotations and its stones glowing as he imagined her loving heart would, if once she bestowed her deepest affection on some fortunate man. In his despair and remorse he had gone as far as loathing the sight of that particular stone on other women, jealous in a wretched twisted way for her sake. Thinking back on his past misery and comparing it to his present happiness made him heave a deep sigh before he spoke.

`You were wearing your necklace earlier today. May I enquire where it is now?'

Although the sensuous pleasure of his delicate caress was indisputable and affected her deeply, Elizabeth steeled herself as best she could, forcing an increasing faintness back. There was one aspect of this jewellery matter that was foremost on her mind as she tried to evaluate the behaviour of her husband.

She was surprised even that he should have noticed her unpretentious cross and puzzled as to his reason for bringing the matter to attention. Why did he sigh so heavily? Could it be that Mama was right? Is this a covert inquiry about his emeralds?

The distressing memory of her mother urging her to wear Darcy's valuable gift, and the minor scene caused by her own reluctance to parade in church, were not all forgotten.

¤¤¤¤¤

Mrs Bennet had been lecturing her crotchety daughter on propriety and gratitude, indignantly pointing out to Elizabeth what she owed her distinguished husband.

`I really don't know what to make of you, Lizzy. A fine gentleman like Mr Darcy is entitled to more consideration. He has every right to expect that you treat him with the utmost reverence.'

`But Mama! I have no intention of being disrespectful - not today and certainly not in church - and have cause to believe he would approve of my choice in this matter.'

Mrs Bennet saw the glimpse of opposition that flashed briefly in Lizzy's dark eyes.

`Ohh how could he approve, you stubborn girl? They are mere garnets! What's that to all those emeralds, Lizzy? The one pendent so big … and the fine golden setting! Such a beautiful, precious gift from your fiancé! You are about to marry a man of great consequence and you ought to see the need to honour his generosity towards you. Anyone would think you could not care less. A more submissive attitude would be appropriate, if not for love so out of gratitude and a regard for general decency!'

Meanwhile Mr Bennet had found it extremely difficult to concentrate on his copy of The Morning Post, this being such an extraordinary day, and consequently had left his library with the secret intention of spending some more time near his eldest daughters. Guided by the easily recognisable sound of Mrs. Bennet's agitated admonitions he had sauntered into the room with his unfolded newspaper in hand and on overhearing this preposterous argument instantly saw an opportunity to smile at his wife's expense.

`Yes, Lizzy! Have you no other gifts from him? There was a diamond pin was there not? Why not wear that as well? Why not wear it all? Diamonds, garnets and emeralds. Better look refulgent and sparkly in church even if that means you won't be able to move without the rattle and clatter of jewellery.'

'Mr Bennet! What can you mean by such an ill-considered suggestion? The cross would look very misplaced on top of the emerald collier to be sure. What you are saying about the diamond makes sense, however. Perhaps we could find an appropriate place for it!'

The smile on her husband's face was widening into a grin during this discourse until finally Mrs Bennet was bound to notice. When she realised that she had been ill-used, she threw her arms about and gave vent to her frustration with a helpless outburst.

'Ooohh Mr Bennet! You take delight in annoying me!'

Though normally she would have been able to look upon it all with smiling lenience and in the past had often shared her father's amusement, on this occasion Elizabeth could not. The notion that she should have to convince her own mother how deeply she cared for her fiancés gift - that it was indeed priceless to her but in another, less vulgar sense - was not to be borne. This morning Mr Bennet's unfeeling attitude, his propensity to spurn everybody and everything, even vexed and saddened her. She turned from her parents to stare out the window, aiming her eyes above the treetops in the direction of Netherfield and blinked to keep her tears away. She felt forlorn and was unconsciously looking for sympathy and understanding where she knew it was to be found in abundance.

But it was to be had nearby. As soon as Mr Bennet saw that his favourite daughter, instead of being entertained, appeared to be truly suffering, he put an immediate end to his own joke and his wife's strenuous performance. His eyes registered with concern how Elizabeth's dispirited mood was manifested in her drooping shoulders.

`Now Mrs Bennet, Lizzy is no longer a child for us to order about. I think the time has come, when we must allow her to trust her own judgement.'

The look of sincere gratitude and relief on Elizabeth's face made his paternal heart sting with regret. Censuring himself he knew that for the benefit of his own wayward pranks he had rarely taken into account the feelings of his family. My dear, sweet Lizzy, what good is there in easing my own affliction with such flighty sport, if in the process I end up causing you pain?

Fanny Bennet had to face the joint forces of husband and daughter and hence defeat, which made her collapse onto the nearest chair. From there the alarming signs of a severe fit of nerves and the hence anticipated need for smelling salts made her call for Hill. Although she harboured no wish to hurt her daughter, she really believed herself to be in the right and as she left the parlour to withdraw upstairs could be heard huffing with annoyance.

'The wife of Mr Darcy! The mistress of such a grand estate!! Insignificant garnets? It is too much!! Or rather too little!'

The poor woman considered the wedding jewellery inadequate and yet she heard her own voice stating the opposite. For her sake one must take comfort in the fact that Mr Bennet was not there to hear it.

¤¤¤¤¤

A sad little smile flickered over Mrs Darcy's countenance, inducing her husband to wonder at its cause and, fearing he was to blame, regret his selfish request. He passed a comforting palm over her cheek, which, though it rendered him a grateful glance, had no lasting effect on her countenance. Her face remained serious.

She had felt this deeply, that the import and emotional significance of their ceremony in the sanctuary ought not to be tainted by any attention drawn to worldly goods. The austere beauty of the Darcy family's ancient veil and the simple design of her gown, to her taste would be contradicted by the costly necklace and much to Mrs Bennet's vexation she had insisted on her dear garnet cross. Wishing her husband to see her point and understand that his gift was very much appreciated, she now tried to explain without revealing the part played by her mother.

`Why Sir, the intention was for it to be substituted, as you might have expected, by the exquisite emerald collier you gave me a few days ago. But as I was getting dressed this morning I found that piece too grand for the church at Longbourn and, however much I value it, decided that I needed no jewellery to marry you - apart from my garnet cross that is. I have been wearing that one daily for years so it does not really count as jewellery.'

Saying to marry you melted the last gravity from her expression and the warmth of her gaze caressed his face. She brought a hand to her neck as if to make sure the cross was not there. Darcy saw it with tender eyes and was thoroughly relieved that whatever suspicion of melancholy he had recently entertained could now be dismissed. The moment of distress had clearly passed and he ventured a cautious renewal of his request.

`Yet now it seems to be missing!'

How come he's so persistent in this matter? He's right though, the cross is gone.

`Ellen - the abigail if you recall - must have removed it without my noticing. 'Tis odd really, but my mind was likely otherwise engaged and I guess I am not yet used to a maid of my own.'

A little perplexed by his urgent stare she smiled apologetically while a faint blush rose to her cheeks. Her natural frankness touched his heart and again reminded him of the depth and purity of her love. It was practically radiating from her. Never was there a woman less pretentious! She appeared so wholly unaffected by his wealth. So genuinely indifferent to an opportunity to flaunt her newfound riches!

`You are indeed right, Elizabeth. You need no jewels to embellish your person. You yourself are the most precious jewel that ever existed. Though I confess I was pleased to see you wear the cross in church this morning.'

He had seized her hand and, holding it near his lips as he spoke, kissed it twice to emphasise his feelings.

`Am I right in assuming …you have got that garnet pendant … somewhere nearby?'

Straightening up he rested his gaze expectantly on her face while awaiting the answer. Elizabeth's eyes had widened in surprise. What can he possibly want with my cross? He's so persistant. Those dark fervent eyes! The warm breath accompanying his words and kisses had caused tiny thrills to run up her arm. I'll soon have no option but to ask that he hold me or I'll do something really silly like sink to the floor. Dwelling for a moment on the pleasures involved in a supportive act of that kind did nothing to restore her composure. Now Lizzy, pull yourself together! Can't think what makes him refer to the garnets though. Intriguing man! Elizabeth swallowed, endeavouring to concentrate her thoughts.

`Oh yes, I never part with it. It was a much treasured gift when I was a child. My Aunt and Uncle Gardiner brought it back for me from Italy when they had been travelling the Continent - after their wedding, actually. I still remember how excited I was to have a necklace of my own ... and one from abroad at that! Jane got one as well but she seldom wears hers.'

She fell silent to study his countenance where the reflective expression from one minute shifted into a broad smile the next. Their growing intimacy had facilitated her interpretation of his mood, yet she did recall how thoroughly he had once puzzled her and knew that on occasions, he still did. What can it be that makes him grin so endearingly? That's not the countenance of one displeased.

How, indeed, was she to know what went on in his mind? That little lively girl from long ago was very vivid in his imagination; he could fancy her bright eyes glittering with delight and her gratitude effusively expressed, when she was presented with her new chain. It was the thought of her that made him smile. Happily returning that smile, Elizabeth, however ignorant as to its origin, felt her hand still securely enclosed by his, and the beating of her heart noticeably quickened.

Engaged by his mental image, Darcy wanted details. His thumb was moving softly against her palm.

`Pray tell me, how old were you then? My calculations suggest you must have been quite young.'

Had she even wished to, she would not have been able to avert her eyes. They were locked by his, fascinated by the tenderness and warmth in them that seemed to envelop her in a peculiar kind of exciting security. Had it not been for the odd sensation in the pit of her stomach she might have been fairly composed. What was he saying about the necklace again … to do with my age?

`I was not yet eleven. My Aunt and Uncle have been very good to me. As far back as I can recall, they have been spoiling me with their loving care and attentive gifts.'

Her hand received an additional affectionate pressure and his usually sonorous voice was low and unstable, hardly more than a whisper when he leaned in on her to further disclose his feelings.

`I do not blame them! It is plain to see they are exceedingly fond of you. How could they not be? I think I share that weakness and shall claim for myself also the privilege of one deeply attached to your person.'

The smile was gone, he was serious now and one by one softly kissed the fingertips of her imprisoned hand, before he spoke again.

`Your tale serves to prove that this necklace is as dear to you as it is to me, Elizabeth. Can we find it now?'

Beaming with happiness she had basked in his affectionate proclamation but, while Elizabeth fought her preoccupation with the physical impact of his continued attentions to her hand, she was still attempting in vain to evaluate the significance of his request. This conversation obviously had nothing to do with the emeralds. But then what? She cleared her throat.

`I suppose it must be in my dressing table. Dear to you, Sir?'

With some reluctance freeing her hand from its enviable location she had turned away while talking and after yet another short quizzical glance towards him, set out across the thick carpet towards her dressing room. She never expected Mr Darcy to take an interest in minor trinkets, but after all she wanted nothing better than see him happy and rather wished he would kiss her again. If he is that eager to see my garnet cross tonight, I had better oblige him. She shoved open the door and before disappearing into that other room, looked back to cry over her shoulder.

`It is rather dark in here. Would you bring a candle, please?'

Darcy grabbed the nearest candlestick and readily followed her. The only existing source of illumination in the smaller room was the fireplace. He saw Elizabeth's slender figure in the sparse light shed on the dressing table, where she had seated herself to search the drawers. When he came near to place the candelabra before her, she was taking out a small box of darkened leather. He moved to stand behind his wife looking over her shoulder and from there he watched the lid fly open, revealing four compartments lined with faded silk. Her collection was not big and thus the item was easily retrieved. Elizabeth located the cross, pinching it so that the chain dangled from her hand and was slightly surprised that she had been so distracted. Her maid obviously had removed the necklace and put it away without her being at all aware. Where had her thoughts been? It's as if I were not present. I had no idea I was so preoccupied with the splendour of my quarters. Glancing fleetingly over the elaborately painted flower decorations on the table top with the neatly organised jars and flacons, her combs and brushes impeccably lined up, she murmured.

`One can surmise that Ellen must be a very tidy sort of girl.'

Involved in her own musings, Elizabeth had made that remark completely oblivious to the barely concealed look of excitement on her husband's countenance.

`Allow me to put it on!'

He whispered his request as he reached out for the treasured gem. Startled by his uncharacteristic manner of address and the intensity permeating his entreaty, she looked up and was truly amazed. She had rarely seen his face so unguarded; moved by his expression she complied, and without a word placed the necklace in his hands. Seizing the thin golden links between his thumb and fingers, Darcy lifted the cross almost reverentially near the candles. Elizabeth saw her husband in the mirror; as he watched it sparkle, the evidence of emotions washing over him was clearly discernible until eventually his handsome features softened into a faint smile. Carefully encircling her head he lowered his arms and was thus slowly placing the tiny ornament around his wife's neck. He bent down in concentration to manage the intricacy of the clasp.

From the first contact when he had so unexpectedly asked about her jewellery she had found the brushing of his fingers against her neck to be a very agreeable sensation; her skin had been sizzling ever since. Now, in the intimacy of the sparsely lit dressing room, his gentle touch was even more so and made Elizabeth smile with pleasure. Spontaneously she raised her arms to caress her husband's dark head, which was all that was visible, while he was fastening the chain. That same moment he was done and on lifting his eyes to see the result of his efforts, felt his throat constrict at the sight of her enchanting reflection.

The position of his beloved was very similar to the one which had made him forget about time and place in the carriage outside the coach inn earlier, only even more alluring. Her hands reaching for him above her head, her soft mouth graced by an unconsciously inviting smile, the loose sleeves of her negligee falling back, uncovering the creamy whiteness of her bare arms, and the curves of her upper body generously protruding behind the soft folds of fabric. Enveloped in a mixture of lavender, orange blossoms and her skin's own sweet fragrance, he was inhaling it all, his senses intoxicated. Her incomparable eyes were sparkling and just below the indentation at the base of her neck rested the red stones, mysteriously glimmering against her skin. Darcy was spellbound and for what seemed like an immense lapse of time stood staring at the beauty before him. It was as if he had not fully realised before. As if up to this moment there had existed a remaining doubt, an inability to comprehend his fortune. Now, within a few seconds the wonderful truth hit him powerfully with every jubilant heartbeat. She loves me. She is mine. She will not leave me.

He leaned near to place a trembling kiss on her shoulder, then managed one faltering step to stand by her side and could contain himself no longer. `My loveliest, most bewitching Elizabeth. I am not ... Elizabeth ... uhm …Elizabeth! His voice was low, warm, agitated as he repeated her name and sank to his knees embracing her and devotedly kissing the cross and her naked skin near it. His hands were delighting in the abundance of feminine softness and in his enamoured state he kept whispering her name over and over.

Though she had not anticipated such a passionate outburst and blushed to feel his caresses turning more intimate, Elizabeth was swept away by his conduct. She sat on the tiny tabouret swaying like a young tree in its first storm.

His ardour was beyond every expectation. He was again like a stranger but a stranger whose behaviour engaged her own feelings. It was a sweet delightful pleasure to be subjected to such force of emotion. Her hands had insisted on their initial aim and found his head even when he shifted to kneel before her. She ran her fingers through the dark curls above his forehead and heard herself whisper words of love, softly, as if to reassure him. Then her lips became eager to have his mouth upon them and she tried to force his head to be still, so she could kiss him.

Apparently he noticed, for all of a sudden his dear agitated face was very close, and he was whispering something about the garnet stones, her heart and his happiness. It made no sense to her, but his uninhibited passion filled her with aching tenderness and an urge to express it. Letting out a sigh that bore a strong resemblance to a sob she pressed her lips to his kissing them passionately. She could feel the support of his hands, strong and firm against her back as he reciprocated that wild kiss with an eagerness more than equalling her own.

When finally they parted, with faces flustered and breathing disturbed, Elizabeth stared into her husband's eyes, feeling she would drown for they seemed to mesmerise her by being so black and glowing. Darcy was sensible to the delicate blush on that beloved face and the alluring swell of her lips, but it was her gaze that held him. He saw a shy question, nay more of a plea in it and aware of his innermost wishes, fearing it was not altogether unthinkable that he might pull her from the chair on to the floor, he swallowed hard and rose to his feet.

Elizabeth was in complete turmoil, convinced that she would not be able to stand on her own, so she thankfully used the support offered by his hand when she stood. On doing so she could feel her negligee robe slipping from her shoulders and, as in surprise and a futile effort to get hold of the article, she let go of her husband, it fell to the floor.

She tottered and he instantly grasped her arm. They stared down at the heap of silk, Elizabeth in an attempt to fathom what was happening and Darcy with a somewhat guilty look before he bowed to gather the sheer cloth from the floor. Aware that in his excitement he had untied the hindering ribbons, he opened his mouth to own as much while holding the amazingly thin, feminine piece of attire indecisively and wondering also whether she would wish him to assist her in putting it back on.

`I am to blame, for I think …'

But, before he could even begin to tell her that his initiative had not been calculated, that he would endeavour to behave with more ... his wife, who had observed the bewildered expression on that beloved face and regained some composure, with tender eyes glittering, placed a finger on his lips to silence him.

Momentarily muted he wasted no time but kissed her finger and draped the silken garment over the screen in front of the washstand before, on some silent agreement, they turned to leave the dressing room.

When they were slowly on their way back to the relative security near the heartening wineglasses, her hand rested trustfully upon his arm, warming him through the fine linen of his shirtsleeve. He covered it with his own and, wishing her to know that her confidence in him was not misplaced, cleared his throat again with the intention of voicing his regrets. Although they were neither very sincere nor heartfelt he had overstepped an invisible line and the caution he had intended had given way to unleashed emotions of unpredictable fervour.

Forcing himself to be honest, he had to admit quite frankly that at first he had not been able to stop himself and the fact that it did not seem as if his wife disapproved, although it ought to be gratefully pondered, was not really an excuse. She had welcomed his unbridled and palpable assurances of affection as sweetly as any husband could wish, yet he would resume his premeditated behaviour.

`I must ask your forbearance … `

As had happened before lately her own audacity surprised Elizabeth, but she interrupted her husband in a voice which, though initially faltering, soon grew steady and her last words were even tainted by mischief.

` You mentioned blame recently and now forbearance! I can't see the need to consider either. May I remind you of an autumn day not long ago, when we were both walking near Longbourn, Mr Darcy? It was in the afternoon, I think, before teatime. We were having a minor ... disagreement, and, as a result, you made me a promise.'

Something in her voice induced him to arrest his pace and turn towards her.

`Did I indeed? So now you wish to hold me to my word?'

Darcy studied her as he spoke, admiring her glittering countenance, irresistibly seduced by her dark gaze, and, through the emotional uproar of his mind anticipating some of that fascinating banter. He would be more than willing to partake. Clearly not even her wedding night was likely to make her docile. Repeatedly his glances touched upon the gleaming garnets on her chest, his palms remembered the silken softness, he was in dire need of a distraction and, eager to hear her speak, he probed.

`A disagreement you say? Is such a thing even possible? And what exactly was the purport of my promise?'

They had stopped halfway between the dressing room and the refreshments by the fireplace. Well pleased to see more of the usual self-assured Elizabeth, Darcy had welcomed the diversion and smilingly urged her to present her point.

His inborn and incontestable standing in elevated society had provided him with the necessary confidence and his intelligence had guaranteed him respect when he choose to take part in conversation. But he had never been altogether comfortable with casual acquaintances of the opposite sex, never easygoing in the manner that constituted a ladies' man.

Fine eyes and other obvious assets aside, what had really attracted him to Elizabeth was that very early on, he had discerned in her an equality of mind that seemed rare in a woman. Her wit had challenged him, struck a chord somewhere and induced him to seek her company. Though her way with words had been all but ingratiating in the beginning, he had found the challenges she presented irresistible. In the continuous development of their relation she had not expected him to act a role, with her he had come to feel easy, less guarded, more himself.

Now she appeared to be speechless, however. He studied her countenance for a moment, but she was obviously not about to play. Oddly but equally pleased to discern a delicate colouring of her cheeks, he raised one brow and before his wife knew what to say, continued in the almost flirtatious manner that she seemed to bring out in him.

'Was this all taking place in the enchanted garden at Longbourn? When I recall how walking there in your treasured company affected me, I suspect you could quite easily have persuaded me into promising you almost anything, Madam.'

Making an effort he had answered her quite gallantly, but truth be told, found it difficult to think of anything but her womanly form, now the robe was gone, even more temptingly obvious to his lingering eyes. He was in a daze, honourably but reluctantly battling against his instincts, as he looked down into the clear, seemingly bottomless eyes of his bride.

One would be unwilling to consider such a possibility, reluctant even to believe it consistent with his straightforward personality and indisputably high regard for Elizabeth. Yet must one not allow for the passionate feelings of a young man so recently wedded, a gentleman also, whose depths of emotion there can be no reason to doubt. Might there be a sly calculated plan, caused by the ardour of an impatient lover and designed to forward a premeditated outcome or, should the explanation rather be sought somewhere in the unconscious depths of his besotted mind?

On the other hand there is no telling whether Darcy, in spite of his belonging to what is generally labelled the stronger sex, was that moment experiencing the same kind of whirling sensation as had been affecting his wife more than once on this extraordinary day. And if so, perhaps his next utterance was merely, and quite naturally, following upon this minor affliction.

But the most likely scenario is probably that he was paying respect to his wife, worried perchance by the fatigue so recently evident in her stumbling dizziness in the dressing-room, and thus simply demonstrating his concern and love for her by his next suggestion. All speculations aside, these were the very words of his proposition in all their uncomplicated directness.

`Shall we sit?'

Suspicion was not in her disposition and although her mind was known to be uncommonly clear and perceptive, now several circumstances conspired to dim Elizabeth's judgement. She was not inclined to question her husband's motives. Why should she be? Deep inside she might feel without knowing it that their minds nourished one and the same, strongly imperative command and that they were both secretly striving towards the completion that has been guiding lovers since the beginning of time.

There was something about the sound of his voice too, something that took the strength from her and, weakening her limbs as well as her will, left her disposed to agree with him.

She also believed his to be a well-timed suggestion on account of a problem that had presented itself. For though at first amused by the unexpected turn of conversation, from her husband's humble apology to her mischief in reminding him of that premarital assertion, she was feeling rather frail and bewildered by the confusing wishes of her own mind. Much as she had wished to ease his self-imposed burden of responsibility, she now considered that informing Darcy of the tenor of his promise was not so easily done and, given their present location, might even appear unsuitably forward. Thus, without much ado, hoping he had forgotten the cumbersome subject Elizabeth accepted his proposal and plainly voiced her approval.

`Yes, thank you, I think that is to be preferred.`

Next she proved herself to be utterly befuddled, however, as without further reflection she made for the four-poster bed. Darcy watched her in incredulous discomposure, their former location on the sofa near the fireplace was where he had been about to escort her, but if she was ready for, and comfortable with, this step, he would certainly be a fool to state objections. A soon as her intention was unambiguous his polished manners were put to shame; he could do nothing but stare.

Elizabeth looked back at him. She was concentrating on how best to avoid a blatant answer to his former inquiry, should he insist on having one, and this must account for her climbing the bedside stool heedlessly. The sheets were so richly decorated with drawn thread seams, and along with the patterned blue cover, had been neatly folded open from either side of the bed. Both of which circumstances that would normally have caught her attention, yet now, without thinking, she avoided the fine embroidered linen, to sit near the pillows on the plain white sheet beside that folded cover. Although she did register Darcy's hesitation, she was at a loss as to its reason. Why is he lagging?

In an attempt to conceal a too conspicuous gasp of admiration when he was faced with the unreal sight of his enchanting wife easily positioned on her bed, Darcy hemmed and gripped his hands behind his back. As if he was by such means trying to get a firm hold on the precarious situation. This unique, wonderful woman never ceases to amaze me. Just look at her!

`Is something the matter? Will you not … join me …'

With even more astonishment he heard her pert address, and the unconcealed bewilderment on his face eventually made his wife painfully aware that, out of habit, she had resorted to the bed. Now she saw where she was seated and the unfamiliar details that had escaped her notice before suddenly stood out. Stammering the last words she could feel her cheeks warming immediately. What have I done? He looks as if he could not believe his eyes. What must he think of me? Seeking to justify her venture she grasped for words.

`Uhhm, I did not … it has long been a habit of mine, to sit on the bed talking for hours. Jane and I often ... '

The blush that had began as pink blotches was inexorably rising from her neck onto her face and turning a brighter shade, as on further consideration she remembered this was not really what was expected to happen on this particular night. An intimate confidence with her sister was indeed a completely different matter and with even more confusion she looked away without finishing the sentence.

Darcy, fervently urged by his instincts to obey his beloved, had been deliberating on how to react - Should I join her? Talking hm well … but for hours? She did not really mean that … my poor, dauntless girl. How am I to reassure her? - when his attention was caught by a faint flickering light from the abandoned dressing room. He came to his senses, resorting to the accustomed prudence of handling lighted candles and, with a short incoherent explanation that he would be back in no time but, since no servants were due, it would be unwise to abandon an open flame, hurried back to effect the extinction.

A storm of emotions made his head buzz as he escaped into that other room. By Jupiter she looked irresistible perched on the edge of that bed! I'm amazed I could stay away. Probably for the better though. What troubled him was the complexity of the situation. For while he saw the ravishing temptation of her female form awaiting him, fully aware that she was rightfully his, that their union was sealed before God and acknowledged by men, he could not avoid but seeing also the sweet innocence of his young wife. In some respects she is so very young.

He took one deep breath and then another. The candle flames were easily put out, but within him soared a fire with ever increasing force. Distractedly bending to stir the embers, he moved the partly burnt logs of wood together, fed a few more to the fire and then, straightening himself up, retrieved a cloth to wipe his hands and searched the vague oval of his face in the mirror. It offered no guidance. Should I join her - on the bed now? The flames rising in the hearth provided but a fickle lighting and lent a touch of treacherousness to his features. That does not strike me as a face to be trusted.

He was not sure what he was looking for. Some hint of wisdom. Some assurance that he would not run ahead madly, a raging bull, for some inconceivable reason, let loose amongst delicate chinaware. Whatever it was he sought, it was not there. Then, on hearing her moving, he stared into his own dark eyes dissatisfied with the apprehension in them. What am I doing, standing here? She's expecting me. He knitted his brows deprecatingly towards the dimly lit mirror, turned his back to the unreliable face in it and nearly bolted back through the door.

Elizabeth's perturbed state of mind had made the pulse pound in her ears, but she had heard him murmuring about a candelabra, which needed be extinguished and when his tall figure had already disappeared behind the winding runners, she answered him in a whisper.

`Oh yes, very true.'

Staring at the dressing-room door with keen attention she thought she could discern the fizzling sound from smothered candle flames and that it was soon followed by the characteristic clatter of a poker being placed back on its stand. After that it was not long before her husband returned to stride the length of the room, by the look of it towards the door that led to his chambers. She watched him timidly but he did not gaze her way. He can't be …where is he heading?

Darcy had little notion of his whereabouts, however, apart from the fact that he was in his wife's bedroom where this most desirable woman, his dearly beloved, was sitting on the bed, … her beautiful eyes watching him, as if silently expecting him to … Yes! What does she expect me to do? She is passionate, yet in all likelihood very innocently so. He was puzzled but certainly not about to leave her.

Reluctantly remembering what he had once heard in Cambridge albeit by the time without fully comprehending the implications, he glanced towards Elizabeth. A more outgoing fellow student who had been crossed in love had had a rather rude and exhausted outburst. Women - they're as intricate as petticoats; there's no way a man can ever figure them out!

There does appear to be truth in this. A man could probably be led far astray by the woman under whose power he finds himself. No matter how eager he may be to understand her wishes or how intent on making her happy. Yet I must find the proper path? Intricate as petticoats … hmm. He would not have that expression interfere now and his cheeks flushed when his next thought was to do with the current lack of such garments. This notion - amazingly tangible to his imagination - put an end to his introspection, his attention was again focused on the room and, with a slight frown, he stopped abruptly.

He found himself on the opposite side of the bed and the realisation that he had actually as good as fled from her proximity made him feel utterly awkward. Enough is enough! How wretched that his preoccupation with the present dilemma had allowed his much too swiftly advancing feet to take him this far.

No need to play the fool! Get a grip man! Almost brusquely he swung around and approached to sit on the bed, although he would have been hard pressed to find a position further away from his wife.

In accordance with Mrs Tuddler's instructions, the upstairs maids would always unfold the bedcovers when rooms were readied for the night. The main reason for this was the airing and warming of bed linen, a precaution in the event of dampness. The minor fold left to affirm that the task had been accomplished also rendered the beds more inviting.

Darcy was long since used to this of course, but tonight he wondered if the impression was perhaps too conspicuous. What separated him from Elizabeth was a tempting, in his eyes even enticing, white surface and a heap of pillows on lace-adorned sheets. A bed prepared for night, no doubt. He thought it best not to give too much attention to the images easily associated with the soft cushions; untoward ideas were gathering in his heated mind as his eyes insisted on returning to Elizabeth's feminine form. She was at a distance yet not very far from his longing arms.

The sight of the folded sheets and her state of undress accentuated the formality of his own attire and made him run his fingers along the front of his silken waistcoat, rapidly unbuttoning the thing , easing it off his shoulders and, without regard for superfluous ceremony, throwing it on the upholstered bench by the end of the bed. While extending a pleading hand over the bedcover towards her, he spoke huskily, alluding to her bewildered revelation from the recently ended days of girlhood.

`Let us talk for hours then, shall we? That should prove to be an enchanting occupation. What was that promise again, Madam? I am ashamed to own it, but you will have to refresh my memory.'

Had it not been for the purposeful disposal of his garment in cohort with the smouldering heat in his gaze and warm vibrant voice, his words might not have been so distressing. The sum of it, however, and the fact that she would have to reveal the contents of his old commitment was unnerving, so Elizabeth lowered her eyes to stare at the long straight fingers of that well-tended hand. Irresistibly her own was compelled to pass with great caution over the latticed hemstitch work to meet his. But she found the bed much wider than she had calculated and, after a moment's deliberation, kicked her slippers away to slide higher up on it. From there she renewed the attempt to reach him but to no avail.

Darcy had been transfixed watching the delightful scene before him, the dark wings of her eyelashes carefully hiding her eyes from his gaze, the approach of her supple silk-clad frame and the sight of a bare foot that peeped out from under her gown's hem. On seeing the continuous futility of her efforts he now regained the ability to move and by a manoeuvre similar to that of his wife, though more successful, was able to slip his hand over hers.

This had all taken place in a suppressed silence, which was broken when the long anticipated touch gave rise to two sharp intakes of breath. Leaning over with a smile meant to be reassuring but which betrayed some of his anticipation, he let his hand glide slowly up her arm and then down again. By adding pressure to his strokes he was furtively undermining the support of her arm until eventually Elizabeth lost her balance and fell slowly against the pillows. A small sound of amazement escaped her, when she found herself quite unexpectedly looking up into the lustrous blue canopy. She could not muster any accustomed propriety when gentle kisses were following the path of his caressing hand up her arm and over her shoulder. Nor could she help sighing since his lips made such delightful, agonisingly slow progress, but simply remained lying, immobile and feeling infinitely feeble until his dark curls were close to her chin. She inclined her head then to brush his cheek with hers and tentatively kiss an earlobe, which was within her dimmed view. Drinking his strange and stirring masculine scent, she was floating away on a sea of irresponsible pleasure.

For his part, Darcy was affected by the audible evidence from her lips as well as their seductive touch, her face next to his and altogether intoxicated by her person in all its womanly splendour. Excited by her unguarded reception of his advances, he understood that if he meant to pursue his former cautious design, he must interrupt their sensuous encounter immediately. His wild wishes were already racing ahead of his mind. Briefly considering whether he should summon whatever was left of his self-control, he raised his head to look down into her sweetly blushing face.No, I cannot bear to pull back from her now. But perhaps I might slow things down by mentioning that promise. Obviously something about it is unsettling her.

Intuition told him some additional conversation might ease their way onto untrodden paths and also that there might be some reward aslant if the lady was brought to confession. Hence he shifted to lie comfortably nearer to her against the cushions, although still wisely allowing for some distance between them, as he murmured.

`You have not told me what I promised you.'

While the colour so endearingly suffusing her cheeks fuelled his tenderness, and induced him to avoid alarming her further by speaking softly, he was aware that his conduct was not blameless. The knowledge of what he was pursuing as he smilingly cupped her chin, directing her gaze to meet his, made him feel slightly wicked as he persisted.

` I must honour my pledge though I fear I might live to regret it. What have you persuaded me to promise, Elizabeth?'

How come I act so lowly? I am the proper one to mention honour! Despite these misgivings, his making a joke about it brought a roguish glint to his eyes and, defeated by his dear handsome face and devastating charm, knowing there was no return, Elizabeth looked helplessly into them. Faint and confused, barely able to manage any coherent speech, she blushed deeply and as if she was trying to ward off an unwanted physical attack of his, placed her hand weakly against his chest.

`Why I just ... it was when we ... `

With some difficulty, since her chin was still caught in a firm grip she avoided his intensely dark and eager gaze to look down upon her effete hand. Laboriously she made her fingertip follow a fine seam near the shirt buttons and when it hit upon his deranged cravat she managed to whisper the answer to his question.

` You promised me you would not talk so much, ... once we were married.'

The expression on her face as she made this disclosure was perfectly disarming. Not knowing what to expect he had completely overlooked this moment from their courtship, but her revelation brought the exact memory back. How she had been teasing him, challenging him to act upon his wishes. How he had used words for defence until her innocent mockery had left him quite desperate - provoked him into giving this promise. She had been unaware then, but clearly understood the matter better now.

Guided by tenderness he raised her chin to kiss her gently and after the first moment's unease, he could feel her body relaxing and her hand slipping from his chest to the back of his neck. Folding her in his arms, he experienced a sense of profound warmth that was half tender, half passionate and spiced with a tiny hint of mirth. His own, truly extraordinary Elizabeth! There was no other woman like her and he was overcome by an urge to let her know how he loved her. To that end he released her and, cautiously lifting the golden chain, passed his unsteady fingers under it until the glistening red stones rested on his fingertips and, as his lips touched upon the blushing roses of her cheek, he murmured.

`You are my loveliest, most beloved Elizabeth! Tonight I cannot think of a promise more easily redeemed.'

He kissed the cross before he allowed it to fall back against her skin. Placing his forefinger on it he looked down into her eyes searchingly. Fear that he might err, that he might prove to be an inadequate lover made him wish for a little more experience. It was not very difficult to make love to a woman who knew what she wanted and would let him know, but this …

No obvious signs of fear or coyness were detectable but she was very quiet, very far from her habitual confidence. Tolerably fortified by the shy movements of her left hand at the nape of his neck, he was touched by the sight of the other arm where it lay between them all passive, and devoted himself to its incredibly soft upper part. His fingers soon arrived at her shoulder, he moved them lightly, circling the top of her arm. Elizabeth had closed her eyes, he could discern the sound of her breathing, and although his attentions made her tremble, she did nothing to stop him. He detected a tiny quivering of her lower lip and bent near to kiss her with forced restraint, quite tenderly - though he was more inclined to bite into its soft swell - then repeated the grazing caress without haste, fascinated by the smooth texture of her arm and wilfully inducing shivers. On top of every other inducement his brain was now subjected to sensuous impulses from fingertips and delightfully bothering visual impressions and they were somehow transformed into warmth, were heating the blood that pulsated through his body. A hot current of air was sent to circle the maze of her ear with his next passionate and playful whisper.

'Are you cold, my love?'

With yet another shiver she averted her eyes and grasped at his neck-cloth. Her warm fingers were moving upwards from his high collar, slowly feeling their way into the rough curls above his nape. Her gentle tugging at it and a whispered `no' near his face made Darcy suffer some of his own medicine for it evoked very pleasurable thrills down his spine. Lowering his lids with a deep sigh that made her turn her head to watch him curiously, he all but closed his eyes. His features were unreadable without them, but Elizabeth had glimpsed the smoulder in their blackness earlier and was convinced it was still there. She wished to see it and, at the same time, feared the change it brought to his face.

Shyly contemplating his pursed lips and heavy eyelids she stopped playing with his hair. He seemed distant, but she had proof he was not, when he cupped his hand over the small rounding of her shoulder, covering it as if to warm her, and then slid his palm down the sensitive skin of her arm. She knew this was all part of a game that he was sort of lovingly teasing her, but it was unfamiliar and although she took pleasure in it, her own reactions made her feel timid. When he opened his eyes and spoke again to probe her attitude, even the rumbling of his voice had the strangest effect on her.

'Elizabeth, will you please look at me? You must let me know, if you are not comfortable?'

He pulled back, tilting his head to catch her gaze and she was not sure how to respond. The passing impulses to flee from him were always defeated by another inclination: to see where he was taking her. On hearing his gentle question she moved her head in agreement and raised her lashes thus permitting him to read her dark eyes.

There was shyness in them but there was more. Tiny flames were to be found and he saw them move, their dance getting fiercer as he passed his fingers along the silken neckline of her gown. He could feel the heaving of her chest and saw, how, with a trembling sigh, she bit her soft lip. His palm slid over the smooth fabric sensing the rapid pounding of her heart, the rounded softness moving with every inhalation and he watched the sparkling response to his endearments grow more obvious. The fire in her gaze seemingly mirrored his increasing ardour and the warmth of her breath swept his face.

` I don't know what I am, I am not sure of anything any more … only that I love you so.'

She placed her other arm around his neck, locking their grip to pull him close. He knew the reins were slipping from his hitherto firm hold and only managed an unsteady whisper by way of an answer.

`That's all I could ever wish, my heart. How could I ask for more?'

He kissed her lips, tentatively, then resumed his whispering against her mouth and kissed again with increasing force, breath, words and lips inseparably joining to assure her of his feelings.

'You are the loveliest, … most alluring … so dear to me ... so soft … how I love you.`

Deluded by joy, dazzled by it, he abandoned every pretence of bridled restraint and sank into her arms, seeking to alleviate the aching thirst for her mouth, his desire rapidly taking command of him so that he knew not which delightful aspect of her should be attended to. His wife, with whom he was in high favour, welcomed his attentions openly, gladdening him with kisses soft or demanding and exciting him with her warm, eager hands.

There was no more coherent speech. Although the two contracting parties so recently joined together in matrimony were normally clear-minded and apt to transform their thoughts into words, this was not the time for such exchanges. After those spoken assurances of sincere and heartfelt affection their lips, in between whispered endearments, found other occupations.

When next they spoke, those words were for one object of choice to hear, their precious meaning for the one chosen only to understand. Whatever meagre conclusion an intruder would have been able to draw from it was that theirs was an inconceivable language between hearts that wandered along secret paths of passion.

Though he had been the one to summon her and looked upon none of her tasks as indispensable, the notion that Elizabeth might be awake made him eager to see the abigail gone, and no sooner had the door clicked shut behind the girl than he was back near his wedding-bed. Little by little, warily and filled with joyous anticipation, Darcy separated the bed-curtains to peer into the semi-darkness where his bride was resting. Beholding the outline of her body under the layers of sheet and blankets, made his heart stroke an extra beat and he strained his eyes in search of her features. On a flounced pillow lay her dark head; ruffled locks of hair were framing a face somewhat heavy with sleep. When the streak of light fell over the bed she peeped up at him murmuring.

`Mmm….good morning. So it was no dream after all; I thought I heard you talking … husband. '

The sight and sound of his beloved magnified the elated feelings that had inebriated him since he woke up and his face lit from within.

`A good morning to you as well, most beloved wife. I gather your rest was disturbed then, yet I did endeavour to keep my voice down. It pains me…'

But Elizabeth would hear no more of that, and so broke in as, with a drowsy smile, she reached out for him.

`I can't imagine a better awakening, sir!'

He gratefully accepted the invitation of her arms and as he sat down to kiss her face, the sensation of her skin against his lips filled him with tenderness; it was still warm from sleep. His embrace lifted her from the shelter of the bed and she nestled near him boring her nose into his neck. Placing his chin on top of her head he steeled himself against the warm puffs of air, and to that end was about to ask if she had slept well, but was forestalled when she stroked the woollen sleeve of his robe with an astounding inquiry.

`Is there room for me inside your robe this morning?'

What a temptation! His loving heart was gratified by her sweet reference to the past evening and her inquiry very nearly defeated him. Though some sensible part of his mind advised against it, his senses did not at all resent the idea, as a mumbled confession was delivered into her hair.

`My dearling. I fear you may not approve, and I am no longer sure I do myself, but I have ordered breakfast, and furthermore that it should be brought here before long. How unforgivable! It would appear I am not accustomed to the niceties of a married man's morning. Had I but known…. `

He pulled her close and daring the voice from within that warned against it, ran his lips all the way down her temple and cheek in pursuit of her lips. His wife was able to discern the innermost wishes of her husband no matter how soberly her proposal had been refused. His was a warm welcome, and when he unwillingly pulled back after a lengthy kiss, he whispered.

`I hope to have that robe request oft repeated.'

That was enough to remove any possible doubt of hers. Elizabeth drew breath, her lips formed a happy curve, and she raised her hand to caress his cheek.

`Never fear, Fitzwilliam. I am not likely to forget and I can be very persistent.'

`Is that so? How fortunate.'

He regarded her warmly and that hand was caught near his mouth. Kissing her palm, and tickling it with his breath, he added.

`Are you at all favourably inclined towards a breaking of the fast, Mrs Darcy? Or would you rather that I call the whole thing off? Perhaps you would prefer a prolongation of your doze? '

Elizabeth was still sleepy and not certain whether he was in earnest. Assured by a sensation of emptiness in her stomach she overlooked the message that might have been delivered into her hand and decided in favour of the meal.

`On closer consideration I am all for breakfast, Mr Darcy. It is highly commendable that you have been so good as to send for it already.'

Darcy arched his brow. His active mind had not been slow conceiving a counter order and a sweet dalliance behind the bed-curtains. The disappointment was however easily forgotten in the apprehension of new delights.

`Already? May I inform you, Madam, that it is well after ten on the morrow!'

She stared at him incredulously.

` Fitzwilliam! Can that be true? How could we…? I mean what will it look like?'

He registered the distressed concern on her lively face and grinned lovingly.

`To whom? Whose opinion is it you wish to gratify? It will not appear odd in the least, since we are newly married. Nobody expects you to…. err…. behave or stick to regular hours at such a time. Members of the staff are certainly not supposed to consider our conduct one way or the other.'

`But I am sure they must notice…. It will be….'

She interrupted herself and blushed. Her husband was chuckling mischievously and bent forward to kiss her heated cheek.

`I dare say they are all aware we got married yesterday and only arrived here after a busy morning and several hours on the road. Please, don't make yourself uneasy. Now may I get you a dressing gown? I see tiny slippers scattered all over the floor and it will be my pleasure to recover them for you.'

Her gaze met his and she found his eyes to be uncommonly mirthful. Oddly unnerved she looked down on his chest.

`Yes, please, that is so kind of you. My gown…. now where is it to be found … let me see?'

She fell silent while trying to recall where she had left her robe. Her eyes swept the room and were arrested by the wallpaper door, which was ajar.

`Uhmm. In the dressing-room somewhere?'

Darcy, who that very minute remembered what had taken place in there last night - his amorous outburst leading to the unveiling of his beautiful seductress - already stood to fetch it. Emotions were stirring with the memory as he left his wife to collect her robe from top of the screen where he had placed it quite in passing. Remembrances of the previous evening were not allowed precedence but were forced back to give way to practicality and concern, as he returned to her with brows slightly furrowed.

`This does not offer much in the way of protection! You'll need something more substantial. I'll not deny that this garment is a very pretty one, very hmm, yes…. admittedly so, but it is midwinter. You must see to that when you go visit Bolton's today! Better order an assortment of warm ones. '

Elizabeth had been reminded of last night too and seeing the sheer cloth in her husband's grip initially made her inclined to avert her eyes again, until his words caught her attention. Greatly surprised she stared at him with dark eyes suddenly open wide.

`Are you suggesting I need more than one? There is probably a woollen one somewhere in my luggage.'

She was about to laugh while echoing his words.

`Substantial! Is that your preference? An assortment, sir?!'

She did not tell him the reason her robe had not been unpacked; that she had realised it was far from the thing for a new bride to charm her husband in. Rather too substantial, actually. The thought that she should don it in these elegant surroundings was somehow ridiculous. Perhaps she could do with another winter robe after all.

Darcy knew nothing of these speculations as he, resolutely disregarding the impact of silk and warmth against his hands, assisted her in donning the thin robe while she was still sitting in bed. But, although his lips curved at the sound of her amused exclamation, a realisation dawned on him. An awkward conversation was unavoidable and had been anticipated, but he had not thought he would have to face it so soon. Well, perhaps this is as good a time as any. He braced himself.

`Yes, my dear. Three or four perhaps. What would I know about such matters? I simply imagine there might very likely be more than one most becoming shade, many different patterns of fabric to strike your fancy…. There is no call for restriction and besides I am in no doubt they will all prove… ehm… useful.'

With a bewildered smile his eyes swept over her unruly curls and soft, white night-dress. He hemmed and looked slightly flushed.

`Substantial may not be the proper word for the charming attire of a lady, but you must not forget where I am about to - most ruthlessly - take you; nowhere less temperate than the chilly windswept mountains in the north of England! Several months of winter weather lies ahead. January and February in particular can be severe, and I am afraid it will mean more trouble to order things from town once we are at Pemberley. I assume, you would find buying dress in such an indirect fashion less satisfying, although it is of course by no means impossible.'

Nothing he uttered was anything but kind-hearted, yet his bearing had suddenly acquired a touch of stiffness. Elizabeth was finally completely awake and she noticed the subtle change in her husband's manner. But what could be the cause? This erratic propensity to resort to formality she had seen before, but why would he feel the need now? She tried the first thing that came to mind. Might there be a misunderstanding? Could he be under the impression that she would rather stay in town?

`Please bear in mind that I am very willingly following you to Derbyshire, Mr Darcy. I took quite a liking to the Peaks.'

She stroked his hand. He treasured her caress as was evidenced by the tiny smile that grazed his face. But he was not done.

`I am certainly glad to hear that, Mrs Darcy.'

He stared at her seemingly searching for the right words. So far he had been using many to approach the subject and to keep his thoughts from her alluring appearance. Elizabeth, as was her habit, was determined to get to the bottom of the matter, to know why he was so serious. This had begun in a simple discussion of her attire. What could be so engaging about her night robes?

`But Fitzwilliam, three or four? I never had more than one night-gown at a time. It would not….'

She fell silent. Something about his countenance - a hint of discomfort - made her stop to reflect. Unthinkingly she raised her chin - her husband busied himself with tying the ribbons of her robe into a neat bow under it. His eyes were concentrated on that task.

`You are my wife now, Elizabeth, and you might as well get used to the idea. Later today when you roam the shops with Mrs Gardiner, I depend upon you to acquire a sufficient number of fashionable gowns for me to admire. There is absolutely no need for you to exercise thrift while making purchases. Quite the opposite for I would wish for you to select whatever feminine necessities you can think of from the no doubt wide range of ladies' attire that is available and - provided you are thus inclined - that you indulge in impractical and frivolous whims. You must know it will be my pleasure to see you well provided for in every respect. Do not consider pin money on this occasion. I would have you look upon it as a gift. Please oblige me in this, my dearest.'

She opened her mouth to speak but not more than a breath of air passed across her lips before she stopped, arrested by a parrying gesture of his. In a lowered voice, he added reluctantly.

`I can afford it.'

Her eyes widened.

In a rapid sequence she relived the moment in Mr Bennet's library, when she had been invited there after his deliberation with Darcy on the terms of their marriage. Her fiancé had been standing near the window, greeting her with a most courteous bow as she entered and then turned halfway from them when her father bid her sit near his desk. The sight of this tall gentleman by every appearance aiming his gaze at the farthest treetops in the park, had brought a tiny smile to her lips, and while Mr Bennet informed her briefly of the settlements, most of her attention had been on the darkly curled nape of that neck, in which she could discern for the first time a vulnerable quality.

Her father had handed her a sheet of paper and indicated the line where pin money was specified. The considerable sum had made her start with astonishment and look up into his face, and when Mr Bennet nodded, allowing that Mr Darcy had indeed been most generous, the latter had felt called upon to softly comment that this was no more than was due to the Mistress of Pemberley.

She recalled it all now, as she watched him bend to collect her footwear and kneel beside the bed. Without another word he seized one dangling foot and held it in his warm hand for a few seconds before he eased it into the soft slipper with lips pursed. He had fought an impulse to kiss her foot and wisely thought the better of it - who can tell where that might lead? - and the touch of unpleasantness to this conversation was rather helpful. He heard her tentative words.

`I am aware, you are terribly wealthy, Mr….ehr Fitzwilliam, but…'

The other foot was subjected to the same tender procedure before he looked up at her, his face oddly stern all of a sudden. The tiny slip of her tongue had hinted on the gap between them that his wealth once constituted. He loathed that reminder and would have her forget it as soon as possible.

`Yes, I suppose terribly might be a way of phrasing it. What's the but for?'

She put her feet on the stool and placing a hand on his shoulder began to rise.

`This particular but implies: surely one should still stay within reasonable limits?'

With the frankness that he loved so well her gaze met his steadily, and the rigid line of his jaw softened into a smile as he stood and pulled her to his chest.

`I am sure you always will, Elizabeth.'

That rift is no more! He lifted her near him and after a thorough but tolerably chaste kiss lowered her feet to the floor.

`But would you please oblige me this time and be quite reckless about it? Or else I think I had better have a word with our good Aunt Gardiner.'

Being held close to his chest was agreeable, being kissed was no less so, but regardless of his bantering tone of voice, she knew instinctively this was a matter that requested her full attention. She frowned and pushed him back. Then, as she studied his face, the mischievous glimpse in his eyes made her relax and slap his arm before rebuking him. Might this be a passable road? She formed her mouth into a pronounced pout.

`Have a word! You would not dare! I'd be most seriously displeased.'

Darcy was happy to feel the unease subside and admired her curved lips with no small pleasure. Elizabeth registered the complexity of his gaze. Yes, the tension was gone from the countenance where tender affection now ruled. But as he looked down into her eyes with mock severity she saw the underlying fervour.

`What remains to be said on this matter is only this: you are familiar with the options. Unless you return from your excursion to Bond Street well provided for in every aspect of ladies' wear, I'll be the one demonstrating displeasure. In the meantime, let's see to your comfort. Shall I ring for your maid, Elizabeth? She must find a shawl or something to keep you warm.'

He delighted in saying her name, in bantering with her, in caring for her. His heart felt so light, it was as if it weighed nothing. How he would spoil her if only she'd let him! His wife would lack for nothing if it were within his power to provide it.

A little later, when he had closed the door to his own rooms, Darcy stopped to lean against it and reflect. What had taken place recently, when he was about to leave Elizabeth, had sent his blood rushing and left him disinclined to leave her chambers even though he knew that within a short time he would be welcomed back.

He drew a deep steadying breath. The future spread before him in a shimmering light. One airy fantasy succeeded another in his mind's eye and when, at the sound of his valet in the next room, he found himself out, he had to grin with abashment. But nothing would diminish his anticipation at the prospect of having breakfast with Elizabeth in private for the first time. He was truly, utterly, madly, happily and helplessly in love.

However delightful their reunion on this first morning of married life, a temporary parting was inevitable and, realising that, Elizabeth agreed that she might benefit from the assistance of her maid. Darcy consequently pulled the bell cord and, in order to allow her some privacy, moved to disappear behind his door prior to the girl's arrival. Upon leaving he suggested that she should let him know, when the breakfast tray was brought up or rather, when she wished his company. This correction was made since it struck him that he had a very vague idea what amount of time a woman's toilet would usually require. Whereupon his wife immediately and not very boldly whispered that if these were her options she wished it without delay.

`Elizabeth.'

Murmuring her name he whirled, and in a few strides was back by her side. Unconsciously betraying the unvarnished truth about his thin layer of composure, he gathered her quite violently from the bed and, holding her close, buried his face in the silky flow of dark curls. Such an answer could indeed not be indifferently received but called for the requisite measure. Taken completely by surprise Elizabeth felt his warm breath near her temple and slipped her arms around his neck. He assured her that he was not in the least inclined to leave her. Pulling back he admired the rosy hue on her cheeks, sank in the black glow of her eyes and finally found it impossible to resist the soft curves of her mouth, now half-open with amazement at his unexpected return. An exchange of kisses resulted until, alerted by the arriving servant in the dressing-room, they managed to act sensibly as the lady gracefully allowed her husband to make a hasty retreat.

Elizabeth sank back against the pillows and, with equal haste, rearranged the cover about her shoulders. The soft click of the door and the high colour on her employer's cheeks might have offered cause for suspicion, but if Ellen Bradley noticed she did not give it away. Her kind greeting was perfectly unassuming and, after pulling the curtains from the windows, she promptly approached the bed to place Mrs Darcy's slippers at a convenient spot.

Assisted by her maid the latter found ample means to refresh herself and, during the morning procedure had opportunity to make use of several items of Sèvres porcelain. They were all decorated with the same blue tinged flower bouquet that embellished the water pitchers from last evening. Ellen was continually discreet and helpful, mostly silent if not spoken to, but inventive and reliable; the required woollen shawl had been produced within minutes. Until it would be needed she had hung it carefully over the top of the dressing-room screen. The sight brought memories to Elizabeth and, recalling how carelessly her silk robe had been placed there last night, she bit her lip to hide the happy smile that was threatening to burst forth.

Such recollections could only leave her more anxious to be done with the morning toilet and have Darcy back by her side; hence it was with ill-concealed impatience she conceded to the entreaties of her maid. Once again she found herself seated at her rococo table, this time enduring the girl's fingers as she freed the tangle of tresses from the remaining white flowers. Most of the braids had loosened and all of them had to be undone before her hair could be brushed and rearranged. With the amazing eagerness which had struck Elizabeth yesterday, Ellen insisted that since there was not time enough to do a complete coiffure, she must at the very least be allowed to tie a ribbon into Mrs Darcy's hair.

The years of more modest conditions - the six ladies at Longbourn sharing the assistance of one upstairs maid - had taught Elizabeth how to manage her own style of hairdressing and she knew very well that her lady's maid was right. Some ingenuity was indeed necessary in order to keep the mass of obstinate curls from her face.

But the poor girl was barely permitted to do her work. The faint trace of orange flower scent rising from her hair was a poignant reminder and Elizabeth, who felt that she had been separated from her husband for too long already, feared she was sadly lacking such dignified moderation that would be expected in the wife of Mr Darcy. She tried to calm herself by forced reflection. It must be considered far from ladylike to be untidy, hungry and lovelorn, and even worse to own the latter practically without disguise. My feelings are probably all too obvious. Yet she could not help but hurrying the girl, when some promising clatter announced that breakfast was delivered.

`There now, Ellen. I thank you. That looks sufficiently neat to me, and will have to do. I am truly anticipating breakfast. Will you please check if that was the tray and if so, see that Mr Darcy is informed.'

She rose and walked towards her chamber, the door of which the girl moved swiftly to hold open for her. After placing the warming shawl where it was intended with a quick curtsey, Ellen proceeded on her way to Darcy's dressing room. Elizabeth adjusted the soft woollen cloth as she headed for the sofa. She could hear the knock on his door, then the subdued voice of his valet and, aware that she must act with dignity and ignore the outcome, managed to keep walking without turning her head to look for him.

While she was still occupied in the dressing room, Elizabeth had sent the abigail to open one of the bedroom windows. Back at Longbourn she was always the one most eager for fresh air and had received many a lecture to the effect that airing of the rooms was very well, but that it must be done with moderation since it did away with the good warmth. Furthermore that this same warmth had been achieved by many hours of attention to the fire and also that coal and firewood did not come for free. Mindful of her mother's plaintive but justified rebukes she had instructed her maid accordingly. But although the window had been shut again before long, the air was agreeably tinged with the fresh anticipation of the winter day as she settled down on the sofa.

Within minutes Darcy, whose eyes upon entering had been instantly drawn to her tensely upheld neck and whose lips dearly longed to brush the nape of it, came to join her near a well-supplied breakfast tray. The time spent apart from his bride had certainly not been given to contemplation of food, however, and the gentleman took no notice of the meal, but obliged another appetite by allowing his eyes to look their fill. It's still incredible. This lovely woman is my wife! Her complexion looks soft and creamy as the top layer of fresh milk. That neck! That little lock of hair! Is it dangling behind her ear deliberately to tempt me? Can any man of flesh and blood remain unmoved by such allurements?

Consideration was often helpful when he dealt with the challenges of reality, but facing Elizabeth now it was to no avail. With a deep breath and unconcealed admiration he captured her hand and sat down by her side. Registering that the abigail had not yet disappeared, he contented himself with touching his lips to her fingers as he whispered.

`Elizabeth, you look a perfect goddess of dawn. That I should be granted the privilege of having breakfast with thee, my own Aurora!'

The sparkle in her eyes turned even brighter, for she was warmed by his low-voiced gallantry and very tenderly brushed his chin with the back of her fingers, although she answered him quite archly.

`A rather belated goddess I'd say, but I am so pleased you can abide my rosy fingers, sir.'

The dressing-room door closed and he was at liberty to raise his voice in loving protest.

`Abide?! I can indeed, Madam!'

They were on their own now and the tribute to her hand was paid again with even greater alacrity. In between caresses Elizabeth could hear her husband whispering incoherently. Something about the exquisite blend of wild strawberries - nibbling at her fingertips - and cream - fervently kissing her neck below the ear. Seduced by sweet pleasure she had closed her eyes, and could only let her lover know of her approval by moaning softly, for he held her fingers so firmly and efficiently prevented a more tangible response. Whether calculated or not this facilitated his regained composure. He squeezed her hands and, with one last kiss, let go of his wife. His gaze was still clouded by ardour as, with a crooked smile, he delivered an apology of sorts, before he showed any interest in what was put out on the table.

`Have you realised you have married a beast, Madam? You should take care not to be so lovely in appearance. It will only serve to awaken my yearning for you at an undue hour. Now shall we bestow some attention to what has been delivered from the kitchen?'

Elizabeth had no cause to lament the nature of her husband's emotions, but as she had done before, she let him decide what was to take place and when. Their breathing pace returned to normal as they forced their thoughts from kisses to toast, and all through breakfast their increasing intimacy provided a foundation for well-being. They sat comfortably near the agreeable warmth from the fire, devoted to the appeasing of the healthy appetite of a young being, and although there was much to remind them of the past night, very little needed to be said or done to confirm this.

Without further reference to the events of the last twenty-four hours, without them even mentioning their feelings with any serious intention, the chamber was somehow pervaded by love. It was much like the serene calm after a storm. The air had been cleared, not merely literally by airing the room, and yet it was redolent of passion and commitment. The past, the present and the future were in some kind of subtle balance now, on this morning, in this room where their union had been so happily consummated.

There was certainly the occasional lingering look and now and again a furtive caress. Darcy had temporarily stifled his smouldering desires, and his attentions vis-à-vis Elizabeth were again guided by an admirable amount of self-control. For as was clear from his warning, his eyes were not suddenly blinded to the allurements of dark eyes, disquieting curls and creamy shoulders, nor his other senses dulled to balmy breezes of lavender, soft touches and rippling laughter.

The recent experience of shared shelter within his dressing gown had directed Darcy's attention to his attire. Gratified by the recurrent appreciation betrayed by his beloved in that quarter, the gentleman had instructed his perplexed but well pleased valet accordingly and made his reappearance wearing a different robe. Although she had particular cause to cherish the blue woollen gown, Mrs Darcy had to admit that this was a rather more elegant one, of ankle-length, dark grey silk. Once she was tempted to stroke his sleeve and although she did so with light fingers, Darcy was not likely to overlook any such demonstration of affection, but instantly arrested his raised teacup and turned his head to send her a grin. She noticed!

After some time when they had shared their attention between the fascinating conversation of the other and a golden omelette with ham and tomatoes, Elizabeth, whose glances had been prone to return to her husband's dashingly handsome form and, whose inward smiles had been provoked by the contrast presented by his boyish devotion to the meal, felt how everything about him added to her tender sentiments. A premeditated idea took new form during these reflections and eventually made her put down her fork.

`I think this is a good moment…. .'

Endeavouring to keep his curiosity and his imagination - A good moment for what? - under good regulation, Darcy, who had at first moved to rise, instead took another sip from his teacup, and silently watched as his wife stood to leave the table and walked in the direction of the mahogany chest of drawers.

He took in the whole of her enchanting appearance; stray locks of dark hair defying the plaited yellow ribbon; the soft curve of her back partly covered by a shawl that threatened to slip from her shoulders; the outline of her hips enticingly accentuated by the sway of silken fabric as she opened the drawer. He had just been persuaded by more or less chivalrous impulses that he had better join her, when she turned and came to stand before him. Her face was bewitching, serious and eager.

`This has been dear to me for most of my life. On this first morning of our marriage I would like to place it in your care. Let's say it is a token of my deep regard and….'

Her voice failed her and she mutely placed a tome with gilt edges in his hands. She sought his eyes as she continued falteringly.

`….and to confirm that we are about to share, not only the future, but… many memories from the past. Perhaps they will prove important to our mutual… understanding.`

Darcy had been mesmerised by the intensity of her expression and touched by the obvious emotion beneath her words. When she fell silent he reached out to caress her cheek. She gave him a brief smile but he sensed her attention was focused on the book on his lap. He completed his caress, passing his fingertips along the curve of her jaw before, following her lead, his gaze and his hand dropped from her face to the red morocco volume.

The wave of passion stilled as he handled the book with amazed caution, warily turning it over to study the binding. Making room on the table, he placed her gift before him and opened it to read the title in an almost hesitant, thoughtful voice, as if his eyes were lingering on every separate word. Apart from that he remained silent for a considerable amount of time. The only sounds were the sough from the fire and the soft rustle of paper as he slowly turned the pages.

Finally he looked up and in his gaze there was something that instantly reminded her of young Jamie Lucas's countenance on his ninth birthday, when he had received a carefully carved, wooden sabre from Mr Bennet. A grateful thought was for her dear father, as she lovingly acknowledged his generosity in parting from a tome that was not only rare and valuable, but associated also with such treasured reminiscences. She lingered in the dark warmth of her husband's eyes while she listened to him speaking his appreciation.

`Elizabeth, dearest! This is very generous and I fear I'll be inapt to express my delight in receiving such a considerate gift. Your attachment to it renders it even dearer to me.'

Elizabeth had waited for his gaze to meet hers and now undertook to supply some additional information. Desirous that he know more about “her attachment to it”, she assured her husband that this had been a favourite book of hers for many years. That it originated from Mr Bennet's library - that it was not one he had bought himself but among those volumes inherited from his father and from his grandfather before him. That as a young girl Lizzy Bennet had often contemplated this volume in her father's company. That her dear husband was bound to notice its containing certain pages, upon which the book might fall open readily. That these passages had been selected foremost by Mr. Bennet's indulging his inquisitive daughter, encouraging her childish inclination towards and fascination for depictions of faraway exotic places and that such pictures was where they had stopped to study every detail. She had been at liberty to ask and he had answered her to the best of his ability, never reproaching her if her curiosity went beyond ladylike propriety, always respecting her immature point of view. Finally she added that this occupation had reoccurred quite frequently whenever the vexations of everyday life at Longbourn had made her disposed to take refuge in his study and that between the two of them it had been referred to as, `have a look at the world'. Her face betrayed her affection for her father and that these were treasured memories.

Had Mr Bennet been there to give it and had his opinion been inquired after, he would not have gainsaid his daughter. The happy couple might suspect as much, but they had no time to dwell on the loss of the older man. Ever since Fitzwilliam Darcy captured Elizabeth Bennet's heart, he had completely succeeded her father as the man best loved and respected by her. Mr Bennet had learnt that painful truth when he heard his daughter's confession on the day of her betrothal. He had watched her eyes filled with admiration and love for another man, a stranger and, although he knew it was as it should be, he had suffered a pang in his heart. On that day an inveterate habit came to an end and henceforward Mr Bennet received but few visits from his favourite daughter. Instead he was reduced to the comfort afforded him by dwelling on memories of past years.

How he had welcomed these visits from her, even when she was no more than a little tomboy, a dauntless girl with smudged frock and grazed knees. She used to have torn skin from running around in the fields and climbing trees. When, by closing his eyes, he shut the world out, he was able to recall how she would press her little nose to the library window to ask his help with a wound before her mother heard about it. Hill was usually sent for and at his request, ministered the scratches discreetly. Or else Lizzy might knock on the door to his study because she was desperate to get away from Mrs Bennet's idea of womanly pursuits, infinite hours of tiresome knitting and lace-mending or insipient books on what a young girl ought to consider and how best to make oneself agreeable.

In either case they ended up with her on his lap and a book on the table before them. He would read to her until the smart in her soul or in her body subsided. That was how it began and, in the years to come, this habit proved increasingly indispensable and dear. As she grew older and - alas! - too big to sit on his knee, they turned to other books with fewer illustrations. Books selected for her to read before they would discuss them, agreeing or disagreeing on the ideas presented by the authors.

These experiences had been no less significant to his daughter, and were what lay beneath her words and facial expression now. Perhaps Darcy grasped some of it, for he had acknowledged early on that a particular bond existed between his beloved wife and her father, and also that she was a young woman genuinely interested in reading. He was listening attentively to all she told him, a smile glimpsed in the corner of his eye, while he stroked the faintly aromatic old leather binding. The publication was not unknown to him, it was a rare work, first published towards the end of the seventeenth century, hard to procure and this particular specimen was well preserved. His fingertips traced the curves of a golden compass rose, which was imprinted on its soft leather cover. He was keen on responding and spoke up as soon as she had finished.

`It appears then that this would be a very special gift if only because of the value it has acquired by your extended association with it. In addition to that, and I think you and Mr Bennet are probably aware, it is exactly such a well-reputed work of early scholarly research that I am always eager to procure for Pemberley. This rare specimen will enrich the Geography section. Dearling! Allow me to thank you properly.'

With these words his hands abandoned the book and she was pulled down onto his lap and firmly enfolded within his arms. Only a malicious mind would think that by the intensity and warmth of the embrace that followed, one was perhaps able to detect not only Darcy's love of his wife, but also his estimation of books. Such base speculations deserve no further comment. Suffice it to say that Mrs Darcy was well pleased by the thorough display of her husband's tender affections.

The temperature had risen above zero before daybreak and the frost that had decorated the branches last evening was dripping from the trees on Portnam Square. Thus even before servants from the houses surrounding the square started out on different morning errands, the once white carpet of snow had been blotted by melted water and the footprints only completed the work by turning former ice crystals into a slushy mess, good for nothing but to inexorably soak the soles of their footwear. It looked to be a gloomy December day, but the weather had little influence on the Darcy household, where traces of the festive atmosphere from yesterday were lingering about the house as maids and footmen performed their habitual chores in between stifled yawns.

A fortunate conclusion and a happy start had been the cause for celebration last evening in the servant's hall. Those were the expressions used by Darcy's butler in an informal speech upon the occasion. Openly referred to was, firstly, modifications to the size of staff and disposition of some of the rooms, the rearrangements and refurbishing occasioned by the master's changed circumstances, that is, that after so many years, the house would have a mistress again. This was all successfully achieved by now. Secondly, that judging from what they had experienced so far, this new mistress was neither cruel nor stingy, rather generous than mean, and blessed with such a temper as is more disposed to laughter than sighs. Since conditions upstairs were bound to affect the state of things downstairs, they were fairly confident that they must be heading for good times.

That which he could not mention, but which was understood by the better part of the staff was that the past year had been one of low spirits and trouble. The master had been given to brooding and his smile had been rare. It was fortunate indeed that this was no longer the case. Again it would be impertinent, if he were to mention the happy signs already obvious to one and all of them. That this was not a marriage of convenience but un vrais liason d'amour as De Tartarin would have it, and with French outspokenness coupled with a certain preference for innuendo, had muttered to the head-butler over his glass of claret. His cocked brow and knowing wink was a quiet translation for: We arr boz men igzperienced in ze wayz of ze world. Far be it from Hudson to treat anything to do with the family disrespectfully but, he would be willing to wager his honour as a Scot that the cook was right.

It had been something of a gratification as well as a commemoration after the past weeks of intense labour to ready the house for its master and his bride. Contentment and happiness had been manifested in general high spirits; there had been impromptu singing and some improvised dancing - no instruments though, due to the late hour. The liberal rations of food and drink had been well deserved and such a reward as is known to ensure pleasant dreams. For is not a clear conscience said to provide the best pillow and who rests better than a man -or woman for that matter - who is well fed after a piece of work well executed? It is an irrefutable fact that most of the staff had enjoyed an evening's celebration followed by a good if short night's sleep. Morning greetings tended to be more voluble than was usually the case.

The information available about the new mistress was traded between those servants who had only caught a glimpse of her during the formal welcoming ceremony in the entrance hall, and those who had been in a position to have more than a few words from her. In this light a young footman named Paul found himself to be well nigh a celebrity downstairs. Not only had he been sent to escort the new mistress when she was coming down for the first time, but she had deigned to admit to him that she found the interior of the big house confusing. When his first impressions were inquired after, he was all praise regarding Mrs Darcy's kind and good-humoured manner of address.

The larger part of these confidences were of course secretively shared in the knowledge that Mrs Tuddler would look less than mildly on the occurrence of unwarranted tittle-tattle. She would remind any servant who showed signs of laziness that no one ever earned his living by adhering to idleness and that Mr Darcy was unlikely to pay good money for mere balderdash. Her long-time ally in this crusade against general misbehaviour and more flagrant sins of omission concerning the duties was the head-butler. This elderly gentleman although mild in appearance and expression, was known to strike like a goshawk, swooping down upon every indication of neglect or undue chatter. He was believed to be exceptionally sensitive because of his deaf ear and, as several members of the staff could vouch, evidently equipped instead with an eye as fearfully sharp as that of a trained falcon.

Two other members of the staff were excluded from the well-meaning fellowship of gossip since theirs was employment that sort of implied a double loyalty. There was certainly no need for Mr Hudson to pass censure on Mr Darcy's valet. If ever he mentioned his master, Roget was altogether cautious and tactful; even when his mates among the footmen would do their best to trick him into sharing some interesting titbits, his circumspect disposition was sure to leave them disappointed.

Nor did these somewhat licentious exchanges include Ellen Bradley since, being so newly arrived, her disposition and place in the household hierarchy was not yet defined. Although she accepted a chair among the parlour maids when she arrived downstairs - like the valet by necessity joining the feast a little later - and behaved with unobtrusive kindness and a shy smile, a lady's maid was expected to keep her distance and none of the girls tried to wheedle information from her.

It could be considered as something of a contradiction then that Mrs Tuddler herself had made an attempt to ascertain that nothing was amiss upstairs by a probing exchange with the new abigail. It turned out young Miss Bradley was commendably discreet - reticent even - a fact that Mrs Tuddler inwardly acknowledged with approval although in this instance it did not serve her own purpose. Approval all the same, since this was a quality the master had told her to look for in the girls that came to apply for the post. It was not easy to make the girl reveal anything of what she had observed while waiting upon Mrs Darcy. What little the housekeeper had been able to conclude gave no cause for alarm, however. There was no indication of displeasure. She learnt at what time Mr Darcy had ordered breakfast - uncommonly late - and when he had wished for the bath water to be ready.

Concerning the issue of hot water she had handed out a piece of advice. Deeming it improbable that the baths would take place as soon as was indicated by the master's request, she told Bradley so, and decided that a sufficient amount of water should be constantly heated. Two servants were chosen to see to this, from the time initially appointed by the master onward, and the water was never allowed to cool off as the minutes ticked away without the anticipated bell's summons.

More than an hour had passed since breakfast was brought up - on Mr Darcy's demand by Ellen instead of one of the parlour maids - and, when she inspected the supply of steaming water for the second time, Mrs Tuddler could not, despite her many years of service, decide upon a course of action. She concealed her frustration and encouraged the kitchen maids to proceed as before. Taking her habitual turn about the premises, checking the state of things, she glanced towards the area near the washing-up bowls to ascertain that the emptied breakfast tray had not yet been sent back. After nearly two full hours and a considerable amount of anguished and wavering uncertainty, she finally advised Ellen to venture a knock on the bedchamber door.

`We need to know if baths are still to be drawn. I was informed yesterday that Mrs Darcy is planning an outing today. There's nothing for it, Bradley. We have to intrude upon their privacy.'

After a gesture of resignation she folded her arms with lips compressed, as if an inner struggle had been won at great cost. In a lowered voice she advised the younger woman on how to set about this delicate task.

`It's a good and safe habit, however, to linger in the anteroom for some amount of time, and make certain you are heard. If necessary move some piece of furniture or other to make your presence known, even before you knock. Then knock twice and await a response. One must never burst into the master's apartment unless there is a fire.'

¤¤¤¤

In his happiness completely oblivious to the minor turmoil caused by it below stairs, Darcy was positive he had yet to experience a more agreeable morning. He was not aware of time as he used to know it; a regulator of his day and more often than not steering his steps according to a premeditated schedule. On this grey winter morning he simply existed, fully alive and under the spell of his beloved Elizabeth.

How satisfying to know that terrifying Chronos* had suffered yet another defeat, on this occasion without the interference of Zeus. Rather than swallowing a stone the Titan had fallen victim to the stings of an arrow. If indeed a god is to be named in this connection, it can be no other than winged, mischievous Cupid. Thus, with the concept of time put out of the running, all we can ascertain is that it was `somewhat later' and after having received a more than fair amount of appropriate gratitude from Darcy, as she sat in peaceful repose against his chest, that young Mrs Darcy noticed a minor bump on her husband's dressing-gown just beneath her arm. She sat up tilting her head to examine it.

`How come your chest has developed this uncomfortable “irregularity”? During that part of our acquaintance when such considerations have been within my power, I have not ever had reason to complain about the comfort of your embrace, but I confess this oddity here is somewhat irksome.'

It was only just perceptible beneath the jest, but as could be expected, the flirtatious timbre in her voice charmed Darcy. He smiled and kissed the fine, impertinent arch formed by her brow before he shifted to make room for his hand and, by pulling a little box from his pocket, removed the item of annoyance. His elated answer echoed her lightsome, mannered verbosity.

`Too long… by far, was the miserable time when I had to do without your delightful proximity, lovely lady. Now I have gained the right to it, I would not be careless enough to allow anything - not even a box - “come between” you and me. It is my sincere hope that this “irregularity” - as you name it - will not be the cause of further inconvenience. Quite the contrary, I would that the contents of this box help make you feel at home and comfortable in your new circumstances. It is in fact particularly designed to welcome you into my family, Elizabeth.'

As he spoke, he opened the tiny square-shaped case and revealed its contents: a golden ring set with an amethyst. Elizabeth inhaled sharply at the sight, her eyes widened and travelled from his face to stare at the ring and then back to observe how sprightliness was replaced by seriousness, and how those dark eyes seemed to wrap her in warm concern and love. She found no words but mutely witnessed how he seized her hand to ease the ring onto her finger and, that enterprise tenderly completed, heard him whisper huskily.

`For my most beloved wife.'

The sound of his voice, thick with emotion, did nothing to promote her own faculty of speech, but the need to exhale resulted in a deep sigh as she bent forward to softly kiss the dear mouth from whence his love had been voiced. Darcy responded in kind and brought her hand on top of his, thereby placing her ring-adorned finger next to his own signet ring.

When their kiss ended, the gentle pressure applied to her hand brought Elizabeth's attention to the rings. She now saw with indisputable clarity what she had only suspected at first sight. That the stones were similar, carved in the same fashion, with the outline of an oak tree and that they were disparate in that her husband's amethyst was smaller and especially dark. Her eyes locked on Darcy's stone, which, within its wide crown, held the single letter D with a forceful slash. The whole of it - as she knew - formed the family ex libris, which was to be found on the inside cover of every volume in his extensive collection of books. Moreover, that same oak-tree dominated the Darcys' coat of arms, which was emblazoned upon the shining doors of all the coaches in Pemberley's shed for carriages, as well as on the elegant one, which only yesterday had brought them from Hertfordshire to town and, which was presently parked in a barn near the stables beyond Portnam Square.

Lastly, this oak-inscribed initial was exactly the mark left by his seal on every missive he sent. When she first had reason to contemplate that D at length, it had been imprinted upon the wax seal of a letter. More specifically, on that very letter which, after having sought her out in the morning freshness near Rosings, he had placed in her hands with a measured bow. On the day that followed upon his overbearing and, by her, ungratefully received proposal. Puzzled by the look of peculiar and awkward insistence upon his countenance, she had not then had the presence of mind to study it closely, but she had certainly done so later.

Since that unfortunate April day she had received other sealed missives from him - and her feelings upon reception had been so very different. There had been a period of time when the sight of that D had caused her heart to jolt and beat very firmly and it still seemed to quicken her pulse noticeably. For, notwithstanding that her eyes had acquired a familiarity with his crest, was not her heart this very minute pounding behind her ribs, so she thought he must hear it?

`Thank you.'

The two words in a low voice were all she could manage before she sank back into his embrace. Safely ensconced within his arms she contemplated the ring on her own finger and, anew comparing it to his, noticed that apart from being larger and of a somewhat lighter, though still deep purple shade, hers was slightly different in another aspect. The crown of the oak tree was the same, but enclosing two letters instead of one. An E had been added to precede the D.

Quite apart from being an exquisite piece of jewellery this gift of course carried a greater significance, and she was not unaware of the underlying meaning. That as Darcy's wife she belonged to the family and was entitled to confirm it whenever sealing a letter in the future. She turned her head to look up into his eyes and her hand closed about his fingers. In her perturbation stammering slightly and still at a loss for words she resorted to a comment upon the first tangible detail that struck her fancy.

`Fitzwilliam. You are surely the m-most kind-hearted of men! I… I hardly know what to say, but am deep….so deeply honoured. I do recall oak-trees from my visit in Derbyshire. Are there many near Pemberley?'

When he heard his adventurous lady so uncharacteristically timid, his arms closed about her protectively and he brushed her temple with gentle lips.

`Yes, my love. You probably noticed some specimens along the driveway from the gatekeeper's lodge. Several clumps of them can be found in the park also, but foremost there is a vast oak tree grove on the slopes behind the house. Oaks - and elms - have dominated the wooded parts of Pemberley's grounds for generations. It's a matter of dispute which one of my forebears decided that they ought to be part of the family crest as well. There is some written evidence but none of it unambiguous. If you are interested, I'll show you the documents when we are back at home. Do you approve of it?'

At first gratified beyond words by her husband's amiability, Elizabeth took heart and felt her courage rise as he asked for her approval. Impulsively she stroked his cheek.

`I do indeed. I find it very appropriate. There is some inherent affinity, a quality about you that is in definite agreement with the image of the oak-tree.'

Her hand slid slowly down his neck and chest. Initially permitting himself to savour the warmth of that hand and voice, Darcy looked down into her eyes searchingly, cautiously prepared for the spirited repartee of his young wife; he was not sure what she implied. He made an effort to disregard the effects of her caress, for he was increasingly interested to know her meaning on this issue. Aware from his swordsman's experience that attack is often the best defence, he was mischievously inclined to raise his brow.

`You mean there is something immovable, stiff and… ancient about me? `

His remark was rewarded by a brief creasing of her sweet lips, but she shook her head. When her initial response included mention of his frame, Darcy was oddly pleased to notice how this made the colour rise on her cheeks. But he forgot such superficial delights, when he understood that she was most earnestly and carefully telling him of the esteem in which she held him and also, perhaps unconsciously, revealing something about what she expected from him in the future.

`No, that's not it. Your manners may be formal rather than mundane, but I find no fault with that. `Tis true you are tall… and, I doubt it not, strong enough - but it is really more to do with your inner person. You are someone who is not…. easily shaken. An oak stands through storms and snow, rain and hail. Immovable if you like but not altogether rigid or unimpressionable. Although the trunk is solid, the younger branches will bend to the wind and the leaves will cherish the rays of sun. They may get torn but the tree is still there. You impress me with a sense of trust and …. and constancy. The oak obviously knows how to endure harsh conditions. Come spring there will be new buds! And then, when the sun comes out, that huge crown will still offer protection from the heat. Yes, a provider of shelter and a refuge.'

Darcy listened to her in silence. All his life he had heard flattery, quite frequently from the lips of ladies. How empty it had appeared to him. How ingratiating he had come to regard it. But this! To know Elizabeth's opinion of him so much altered…. He had to swallow hard. Her words had compelled him to pull her even closer and he was relieved, glad that she did not watch his face as powerful emotions stirred within him, nearly driving tears to his eyes. He tried to concentrate on the yellow ribbon that wound its way through her hair, stubbornly wondering for how long it could check the thick curls that strove to escape control. Then she moved against his chest and he realised she was waiting for his reaction. He cleared his throat.

`You speak well, my love and have ascribed me a sterling personality. Out of kindness no doubt, far too much kindness, I fear. But depend upon it that I'll do my utmost to see that no harm comes to you. To prove myself worthy of your reliance. Your happiness is a dear responsibility and I hope you'll never have reason to regret placing your trust in me.'

Elizabeth pushed back from his chest and, wishing to meet his gaze, tilted her head.

`I have every faith in your person, dearest husband and you have given me the most… considerate gift. The stone is beautiful in its own right, but with the engraving it….it makes me realise we are truly united. As I am sure you will have noticed by now, I am hard pressed to find words sufficient to express my gratitude.'

Looking into his eyes she perceived he was overcome by emotion just as she was. Fascinated and touched she saw him purse his lips as if determined to stay composed, before he dealt with it in a very masculine way. He changed the topic rather abruptly by means of a modest joke.

`That is as it should be then, darling wife. We are indeed united and I am very pleased my gift meets with your approval. There's a seal to go with it. Can I persuade you to try this confiture de cerise, ma chérie? Would not you say its shade goes very well with your ring?'

She hesitated but an instant, before she laughed and flung her arms around his neck.

Rome was not built in a day. He still shrinks from sharing his weakness. She was filled with tenderness but determined to hide most of it.

`Oh yes, or should I say, mais oui? That is exactly what I long for now. Would you like more tea, Mr D.?'

Her husband caught the warm glimpse in her dark eye and was about to respond to the meaningful stress on his initial when there was a knock at the door to Elizabeth's dressing room.

¤¤¤¤

After disposing of a minor tray with newly brewed tea Ellen made an effort to heed the advice from Mrs Tuddler. As she looked about the dressing-room, it occurred to her that the screen could just as well be placed in a different angle but, although she had a reason for her behaviour, she felt ridiculous while making sure that the floor was scratched in the process of moving it, and even more so as she was all but stomping towards the bedchamber door. Finally she stood before it, hesitantly raising a hand to signal her presence in a more established way.

She could have spared the trouble, for the goings on behind that door had been momentous and too crucial to be influenced by impressions from the outside world. The considerate knocks hit them like lightning and Mrs Darcy instantly slid from her husband's knee to occupy instead the seat next to him on the sofa. Darcy was no less perplexed; he had rarely been in a position to feel caught off guard by the arrival of a servant. He ran a hand through his hair, furtively straightened the wrinkled silk of his robe and, with a swift glance at his wife to gain her approval, cleared his throat.

`Yes. Enter!'

The handle turned slowly, the door creaked open and Elizabeth's maid appeared in the doorway.

`So sorry to disturb you, Sir - Madam, but Mrs Tuddler sent to ask when the bath water would be required.'

Darcy coloured faintly as he answered. Adjusting the shawl about her shoulders Elizabeth thought it probable, and just as well, that the maid was too far away to notice. There was a barely discernible touch of embarrassment to his deep voice.

`Do not be concerned! Ahh hmm, yes, bath water. I fear that notion had quite slipped my mind. What say you, Mrs Darcy? We have not yet finished our breakfast, have we?'

His wife had had some time to recover from the shock and compose her wits, while Darcy shielded her with his form and with his words. She nodded and, casually enclosing the teapot with her hands, delivered a comment with some of her usual spirit.

`I think, It would be preferable if you were to bring a minor amount of hot water now - the tea has turned quite cold - and how about much more of it - water that is - in half an hour? Would that be agreeable to you, Mr Darcy?'

He sat there admiring her display of equanimity and just longed to see the maid gone.

`Why, yes. That is a noteworthy suggestion.'

Again Ellen Bradley surprised them. But it was in a more agreeable fashion this time.

`If you please, Sir. I have brought fresh tea and some toast. Shall I fetch the tray at once?'

`Have you now? Yes, please do. That's very good, Bradley.'

They barely stirred until the cooled pot had been replaced with a hot one. Before leaving, the abigail thought it best to ascertain the new orders.

`The bath should be drawn in half an hour from now then?'

The instructions were confirmed and the maid receded.

No sooner had the door closed behind her than their eyes met. Darcy's eyebrows raised above mirthful ones. Elizabeth artfully lowered her lashes, but only to lift them again slowly and reveal glittering pools of joyous collusion.

`Am I to conclude you are trying to escape that bath?'

His gaze lingered on her face. He found it thoroughly adorable.

`The blame is all yours, dearest. You made me forget about it.'

No sign of remorse was on her countenance. Her beautiful eyes twinkled as she feigned exorbitant civility.

`So would hot tea please you, sir?'

If his lips did not smile, it was because his happiness suddenly overwhelmed him. He inclined his head and whispered near her cheek.

`Enchanté, sweet enchantresse. Whether it's a bath or tea, your wish is my command.'

Reckoning that such gallantry deserved a particular response Elizabeth closed the distance between them by leaning her forehead against his. She looked deeply into his dark eyes but, when he, not all too amazingly, made an attack to capture her mouth, she gave in to an impulse, teasing him by another turn of her head. It is time to be merry again. I'll force forth that dimple. His lips landed on her chin and he also had to suffer her tantalising reproach.

`We must not let this second pot turn cold, sir. Let's have tea and - not to forget - some of that stunningly purply cherry jam. Milk in the morning is it? Allow me.'

His eyes were inscrutable and, as soon as she sat back, he complied by holding out his cup. No dimple? She covered the bottom of it with milk from a thin porcelain jug and then lifted the silver teapot by its ebony handle. Is he displeased? She glanced at his face while pouring the hot beverage, but could detect nothing to indicate he'd been hurt, no signs of dissatisfaction. If anything he seemed contemplative. After replenishing her own cup she put down the pot and picked a slice of bread.

Darcy held his filled cup cautiously and stirred the contents while he watched his wife spreading jam on a piece of toast. The movements of her hand caused the stone to sparkle in the process. When he brought the teacup to his lips she was carefully cutting the bread into smaller pieces.

Elizabeth took a bite and seemed well pleased as she munched. Wiping her fingers on the napkin she studied her husband's countenance furtively. By every appearance Darcy, who had reached out for the bowl of jam, was about to follow her example, but he obviously changed his mind, for he left the plain bread on his plate with a sly smile.

`I take it this impressively coloured concoction is rather sweet?'

Elizabeth sipped her tea and turned to face her husband. The simple inquiry seemed odd and made her silently wonder as to his purpose.

`Hmm, I would think that is a matter of taste, sir.'

He seized her hands to hold them ceremoniously and to emphasise his pledge.

`Grant me a taste of those cherry lips, Mrs E. D. and I'll be content to rely on my own judgement.'

Again she arched her brow above eyes glittering with amusement, but this time willingly leaned in to offer her mouth. Darcy had been starved for her kisses and now gave her reason to believe he harboured a wish to intensify the tasting. But she soon freed herself, playfully though with some difficulty, to pull back and dazzle him with an alluring smile. He can take a little more. She tried to avoid staring at his mouth as she fought the faintness that was seeping through her. Perhaps he can, but can I?

`Now, now, Sir. There is confiture enough in that bowl for you.'

He would not let go of her hands but held them captured near his chest.

`You are uncommonly cruel, Elizabeth. I know there is but, sweet as it may be, I have this suspicion, it is not nearly as delicious as what I just sampled.'

Thus we are provided with ample proof that on certain occasions, the proudest and wisest of men may be reduced to utter silliness and, what is more, thoroughly enjoy this predicament. For was there another way for his loving wife to handle that weakness - and another that went deeper - in her usually firm husband than by doing away with every suspicion of cruelty and else according to her limited experience everything in her power to please and soothe him? Not that Elizabeth resented her obligations for, at the same time, she acted upon a weakness of her own. She was in fact merely succumbing to the sweet feebleness that had been inflicted upon her by pleading eyes and the urgency of his lips.

One must admire Mrs Gardiner's foresight in that she had anticipated her niece's inability to settle on a time for their outing. When the issue was discussed back in Hertfordshire, before the wedding, this excellent lady had smilingly declared herself to be at Lizzy's disposal and, in her wisdom, simply suggested that the carriage would come to collect her whenever was convenient during the day.

As it turned out, and as Mrs Darcy's aunt had perhaps foreseen, the two parties of this recently formed union were not inclined to face the world until well into the second day of their marriage. It was actually just before midday when they made their appearance and were unobtrusively observed by Hudson who - forewarned by Mrs Tuddler through Bradley that Mrs Darcy's toilet was nearing its completion - had taken up his customary strategic position in the entrance hall. With secret satisfaction he watched his once grave and these last months, before the abrupt and unannounced visit paid by Her Ladyship and the subsequent return to Mr Bingley's estate, even gloomy master; all smiling ease now as, by his wife's side, he descended the last flight of stairs and came to stand in the entrance hall.

Hudson knew his master would soon be off to have lunch at the club, but not until he had spoken to his secretary and attended to matters of some possible urgency that had had to wait, while Mr Darcy was in Hertfordshire to procure a wife. A landed gentleman's lot `tis, to be the one ultimately responsible for estate matters, to be forever involved in some business or other. So much so, that even though he is recently married, he may find himself forced to consult with his solicitors before he is at liberty to enjoy his leisure.

As for their new mistress, he had been informed Mrs Darcy was on her way to join a female relative - the very one who is invited for dinner - and, as ladies were wont to do, make divers purchases. I wonder whether the master would have preferred to be one of that party - after all, he has been known to escort Miss Darcy on such missions. When Mr Darcy laid eyes on him, there was no evidence of regret however. He appeared to be almost light-hearted, and acknowledged his butler's presence and morning reverence with a smile that was at least twice as wide as usual.

“Good day, Hudson. Mrs Darcy is going out, as you are no doubt aware.”

The unmistakable flash of joy in the master's eye, as he mentioned the mistress, moved the older man. The lady in question did not speak but greeted him with a small, perfectly appropriate, if somewhat tentative, smile.

“Good morning, Sir…Madam. Yes, I have been told and taken action accordingly.”

Darcy looked from the servant to his wife and, since they were both silently observing him, as if awaiting his next move, he resumed absent-mindedly.

“Very good. I'll be leaving shortly myself. Not until I've had a look at my desk and seen to the post though. I understand, it's been piling up in the study. Mr Scribbles is arrived, I presume?”

“He's been here for some time now, sir.”

Hudson's expression was blank, but Darcy felt the awkwardness of this reminder and, in order to fill the silence, made his inner deliberations known with rather less discernment than usually marked his observations.

“We'll confer, but I shall probably bring most of it back to Pemberley on the morrow, …for McNab's benefit. I'll instruct Mr Scribbles to pack it with the other documents…Please see that briefcase is not left behind, Hudson.”

The butler nodded with a mumbled confirmation, but Darcy scarcely noticed. The last sentences had brought the impending journey to his mind and made him bow apologetically over Elizabeth's hand.

“Forgive me for being unspeakably dull. You have yet to meet Mr Scribbles, my dear. My secretary was not present yesterday, but then there's no need for hurry. Perhaps I'll introduce him to you in the afternoon. It is not as if I care for words on paper, when there might be a few more to be had from such sweet lips. I'd rather wish…”

When he first spoke the soft words were aimed at her ear only, but, adjusting his behaviour to their location, he checked himself and left that wish unspoken. Knowing the elderly man would else not hear him, he straightened and turned as he posed his last question.

“I take it the carriage is driven up and prepared as was instructed, Hudson?”

Elizabeth heard Darcy's gallant digression with no small astonishment; she was not prepared for such outspokenness. His lowered voice and the manner in which his eyes touched upon her mouth - as if they were still in the privacy of their apartments -sent a rush of heat to her face. When her husband saw fit to change the direction of his eyes as well as his words, she knew the pulse pounding at her temples indicated blood had suffused her cheeks. Her face was certainly very warm, and glancing towards the butler, she hoped he had not paid attention. But his master's whispered communication although not overheard had been observed and, as he responded, Hudson found its effect on Mrs Darcy's cheeks well worth his secret admiration.

“Indeed, Mr Darcy. Bullock is waiting outside with the bays.”

Once his query had been met by a reassuring response, Darcy's attention was again entirely for the charms of the sweetly flushed lady by his side. She met his gaze and managed a belated response to his earlier apology.

“I'll be pleased to meet your secretary whenever is convenient. But surely there can be no cause for excuses, sir? I'll not be that easily bored by such matters as form part of your life. Besides I expect it will be my concern as well.”

Darcy regarded her warmly, endeavouring to make his eyes express what he could not now allow his mouth to pronounce.

“Yours is a voice of reason. It is very true that some portion of that pile may well be missives that are to do with your future jurisdiction.”

Even though most of their conversation was carried out mutely or in undertones, and hence, beyond his hearing, Hudson, had perceived the glances that were exchanged and, much to his surprise, was allowed to witness what followed, while he handed over Mrs Darcy's outer garments. How his master - the ever correct Mr Darcy - took upon him the role of a middleman as, evincing more pleasure than skill, he acted as an untrained chambermaid to his wife. Hudson knew better than to gape at his master's every action and took care to see that the chairs near the grand hall mirror were placed just so. Thus, seizing the opportunity for some fleeting endearments, Darcy prepared to part from his wife for the very first time since he became her husband. Unusual as they might be, his subtle attentions were of course all within the propriety required in such a public space. The butler regarded this evidence of his master's enamoured admiration with an almost fatherly sympathy. He was quite captivated by the young lady himself and, when she eventually left the house, held the door open, honouring her with his most reverential bow.

Nodding kindly to the elderly servant as she passed him in the doorway, Elizabeth thought she understood better now the bard's words, for it had been a sweet sorrow* indeed to hear her husband whisper his farewell near her temple, and feel the light touch of his hands, as he assisted her donning the last of her outdoor garments. The knuckles of her own hand were tingling from his farewell kiss. For a brief moment she came to wonder if this shopping enterprise was at all sensible.

¤¤¤¤

Albeit of short duration, the undisguised amazement on his butler's face had not gone unnoticed and mustering his last resources, Darcy forced himself to remain indoors and entrust a footman to assist Elizabeth into the vehicle. After watching those small shoulders, the sway of her pelisse at her every step, the poise of her head… after allowing all this glory to leave his house, Darcy turned abruptly and left for his study. Once the door clicked shut behind him, he would have hurried to the window, had he not glimpsed Scribbles at work in the adjoining office. With studied nonchalance Darcy sauntered across the floor towards his large desk, in passing preventing the premature arrival of his secretary with a few words over his shoulder.

“Morning, Mr Scribbles. I'll be needing you shortly.”

He heard the scrape of the chair as young Scribbles stood to respond with impeccable politeness. But he knew the young gentleman was far too respectful to make an appearance before he was duly called. Darcy did not know, however, that the secretary had been rehearsing his phrases of congratulation with nervous persistence all morning and that he sat back by his ledger disappointed that the ordeal was still ahead of him.

Outwardly the young man was composure personified, but beneath the surface he was still struggling to prove worthy of his prestigious office. It was little more than a year since old Mr Scribbles had retired and been replaced by his nephew. He had then been secretary to Darcy's father for nearly twenty years. During the last two of them his young relative had been hired to assist his aging uncle and showed considerable suitability for the work. When the issue of replacement was brought to the fore, Darcy decided to try the man despite his youth, since Scribbles senior guaranteed the lad's capability and would still be available at home. His superior experience was of course invaluable, and over the months he was slowly transferring his vast knowledge of the Darcys' family affairs to his successor.

The study's windows were facing the Square and Darcy arrived at one just in time to admire her agile vivacity, as Elizabeth stepped into the coach. His lips remembered the warmth of her gloved hand and his eyes lingered on the small booted foot, which was the last part of his wife to disappear into the carriage. Dearest Elizabeth! He leaned near the pane and the coolness emanating from its surface reminded him that he could do with some cooling down. With a wry smile he monitored her departure until, by way of a smooth left turn, Bullock rounded the corner of Wigmore Street, and completed the separation of the lovers.

She is gone. His fingers had sought out his signet ring and but for a slow twisting of it, he stayed immobile until he could no longer hear the clatter of hoofs. His gaze moved from the corner house to the trees in the middle of the square without actually registering their rough trunks. It was the soft bang of a ledger being closed in the next room that made him start and turn from the window.

He sank onto his chair thinking that he had been wise to stay indoors. The way he felt now, he might easily have made a spectacle of himself. And in public, had he given in to his wish to accompany her all the way to the carriage! I long for her mouth yet would have been reduced to make do with her hand. Then the disposition of the day suddenly appeared idiotic to him. Why did I send her away on her own, when it would have been perfectly appropriate for me to accompany her?

It did not take him long to find the answer to that question, however. Firstly there was the undeniable fact of legal matters in need of conclusion. Secondly he could well imagine his unsuitability for stable enterprises when near his beloved. I might have exposed myself to ridicule in the eyes of Mrs Gardiner! Even if I could endure that, it would have been awkward for Elizabeth. Yes, of course. I had no business there. The purchases that were on her itinerary would have been delayed and certainly not as efficiently executed.

Concluding that it was quite enough that Hudson had been there to witness his besotted state, he inhaled deeply, focused his attention on the papers upon his desk and opened his mouth to summon Scribbles. The young secretary appeared in the doorway, a heavy file under his arm. The sight of his master made his well rehearsed little speech burst forth promptly.

“Please allow me to congratulate you on your nuptials, Mr Darcy! My uncle has been especially persistent, asking that I convey the most heartfelt well wishes on his behalf. For Mrs Darcy and for yourself.”

“Thank you, Mr Scribbles. That's very kind of you. Please send my sincere thanks to Scribbles senior as well.”

“I shall indeed, sir.”

Again her image rose before his inner eye and he felt the need to move on to safe ground.

“Now, what have you got there? Are those matters of urgency?”

The secretary placed a selection of letters on the desk.

“Perhaps you would wish to read these, sir? I have them sorted. The rest all seem to be callers' cards and invitations.”

Two thicker bundles were added to the first one. Darcy cast a brief glance upon them. Unable to devote his mind with any serious intent to the missives - they seemed less significant all of a sudden - or even to endure for long the confinement of his lonely study after such a morning, he would subject them to no more than an initial perusal.

“Most likely. See that they are all properly acknowledged, will you, and let me know if there is anything out of the ordinary.”

Selecting a few for immediate attention and tucking those of a more private nature into his pocket, he left the rest for his secretary to deal with. Scribbles left for his desk in the next room and they worked in silence for the next half-hour.

As he completed the folding and sealing of two short letters, Darcy raised his voice to let Scribbles know he was done.

“If there is nothing more, I'll leave you to it. Again I shall depend upon you to help Mrs Tuddler keep an eye on things here, while I … while we are in Derbyshire. I expect your weekly report, Mr Scribbles. Now I had better face the law without further delay.”

He replaced the stick of sealing wax while attempting to hide a tender grin at the sight of the familiar oak in the yellowish red pulp. Scribbles, who had returned to attend opposite Darcy near his large desk, was puzzled but, he deduced the master must be amused by the wordplay to do with justice and smiled cautiously at this little pleasantry. After some general instructions on the documents that were to be brought to Pemberley, Darcy stood and left the study. Little more than an hour after his wife, he quitted the house. He had arranged to pay a call to his solicitors' office. Mr Wrong was expecting him - probably had been for some time by now Darcy thought with an inward smile - and he might as well be done with it. In all likelihood, Elizabeth's return ought not to be anticipated until much later, but he would prefer to be at home, when she arrived back in Portnam Square.

On entering his carriage, he too considered their adieu a sweet thing, a memory to cherish fondly until he set eyes on her again. He did not make the same connection to literature as his wife but, dwelling on images of Elizabeth's rosy hue and the tenderness in her dark gaze, visited by the intense memories of her gentle reception, he felt compelled to ease his longing with the occasional and emotional thoughts of assorted poets. Affected at first by the grey light from a clouded sky, he conceded that days are indeed somewhat like nights till they do show me thee*… .But then, on closer consideration, he mumbled wistfully yet with a hint of a wicked smile: But nights are not so bad, my love, when thou art near to me.… And when, on descending outside the solemn building of M.Charte & J.Wrong, he happened to place his boot in a particularly thick clot of slush and saw how the mud left streaks on his recently shining Hessians, he amazed himself to the brink of chuckle by a grinning reference to a high-sounding declaration; a favourite of his Cousin Fitzwilliam's which had been used to excess by the colonel ever since their time at Eton: Miseria fortes viros.* He knew his light-headed frame of mind must be ascribed the delightful influence of a certain lady and the lawyer's clerk who answered the rapping of the knocker was left to consider the remarkable lenience of the visiting gentleman's countenance as he showed him inside.

Despite the fact that Justus Wrong proved himself to be well informed by opening their conversation with his hearty well wishes on the `happy occasion', Darcy made an effort to keep his mind on business when he took a seat in his office. Long years of self-discipline helped him get acquainted with and sign a number of deeds and agreements with his thoughts under good regulation. Presented with the most recent of them, the last documents to do with his marriage, his audible comment was still perfectly sober, but a picture of a most beloved was inevitably called forth in his heart, and made him whisper under his breath. `Spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! ' *

“Pardon me, Mr Darcy. Is there something amiss?”

“No, no, little matter… “

But since the solicitor, known for his thoroughness, had pricked up his ears and spoken with his head politely tilted, the amorous husband took care to keep his next, more intimate, reflection silent. He had asked her to do her shopping at his expense rather than use her own pin money, and imagined that Elizabeth might that minute be trying on soft, feminine garments of alluring cut. A small smile creased his lips as he mouthed `Methinks I'll feel this youth's perfection' *.

His business at the law firm completed, he proceeded to his club. His face, where he sat in the carriage headed for White's, would surely have been described as lovelorn by the merciless gentlemen, with whom he was soon thereafter to share a belated lunch. By that time he had managed his practised restraint, however, and on entering the premises was wearing his usual mask of aloofness. By assistance of the porter, a footman was summoned to restore his boots to their former glory, before Darcy was ready to seek out his company.

¤¤¤¤

“An assortment of robes!”

Smilingly she repeated her husband's words aloud where she sat in the coach. Ellen Bradley looked up, but Elizabeth waved her hand dismissively at the accompanying maid, as another pronouncement of his presented itself as an object for her meditation. His subdued I can afford it had taken her by surprise, for it was the first reference he'd ever made to his fortune after that miserable afternoon in Hunsford Parsonage. But where she sat now, the truth of it was entirely comprehensible.

How odd it seemed that only a few days had passed, since Lizzy Bennet had been hurrying along the road from Meryton with her head swept in a shawl against the needles of windblown snowflakes. She'd been so tired by several hours in the confinement of Mrs Bennet's modest sitting room, where the last adjustments to their trousseaux were being executed. She'd been nearly suffocating in its stuffy atmosphere, although she was perfectly aware the room where Miss Gaudkin and an extra needle-woman were busy hemming up petticoats and stitching lace had to be warmed by a blazing fire. Shunning the gathering welter of shawls and chemises she had gladly seized this opportunity to escape.

Accompanied by Kitty as a brave companion, she had been in Meryton to collect a parcel for their mother. While they were on their way from Aunt Phillips the weather had unexpectedly taken a turn for the worse and before they arrived home, been at its most disagreeable even for December. They had returned to Longbourn red-nosed with glossy eyes and with toes chilled to ice in their boots. Mrs Bennet, who had objected to the idea of Mr Darcy's fiancée running errands when she could very easily send a maid, had most unfortunately been a witness as Lizzy pulled off her damp footwear. Thus provided with another reason to parade her nervous disposition, she began by informing Elizabeth of every illness that might follow upon such thoughtless behaviour and ended by pointing out that she ought to take after Jane and not spend time outdoors so near her wedding day. Who ever heard of a bride with a head cold?

Now here she was, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy, comfortably seated, cushioned by soft upholstery, a blanket across her knees, protected from the sting of winter by a vehicle that was as elegant as any she was able to espy on her tour through the busy streets of fashionable London. She curled her toes in the lined boots and gave a contented sigh. It was all a striking contrast, yet in perfect concordance with her husband's reluctant declaration of wealth.

But when thoughts of Darcy would command her mind, it was certainly not his wealth that held her principal interest. The blend of scents within the carriage, warmed cloth from the cushions and blankets and the merest trace of varnish from the shiny black-painted wooden walls, reminded her of the hours spent inside it with her husband yesterday. Recalling the tension that had been between them then and comparing it to how gloriously close to him she felt herself to be now, she let out another sigh. Simultaneously the sentiments of their affectionate adieu flashed in her mind's eye. The smile that sprung so easily to her face today appeared again, but since she was very soon about to be joined by her aunt, and would avoid curious glances from someone as unfamiliar as Bradley, she did not consider the moment right for lovelorn reminiscences. With determination she positioned herself, so she could survey comfortably the bustling crowd outside the window. Out of an unsophisticated wish to include the maid in her anticipation, she glanced over her shoulder to inquire kindly.

“Have you remembered that list, Ellen?”

“Oh yes, Mrs Darcy, it's right here.”

Ellen Bradley smiled and gave her purse a confident pat. They were driving into the centre of town now, where commerce was flourishing. She noted with mounting expectation that a great many people seemed to be constantly entering or leaving the shops or stopping outside to inspect the merchandise exposed in their windows. The accompanying noise was as complex and as boisterous as could be expected, but Elizabeth was not disturbed by it. As a girl, who had spent most of her life in the country, she had never been spoilt by this kind of spectacle and now thoroughly enjoyed the abundance of people, the manifold impressions and variety of scene afforded to her, as the vehicle rolled along the cobblestones on its way to Cheapside.

¤¤¤¤

Lizzy's reflection is well known, but to keep things tidy, I list it with the others.

* `Parting is such sweet sorrow' (Romeo and Juliet; Act two. Juliet)

Darcy's quotes in order of appearance. You may notice, he does not always remember them correctly - he's human you know - or perhaps he is simply mischievously using them for his own, private purpose. ;-)

* lit `All days are nights to see, till I see thee' from Sonnet nr 43

* Miseria fortes viros - Adversity tests a strong man

* `O Spirit of love, how quick and fresh art thou! ' (Twelfth Night; Act one. Orsini)

* lit `Methinks I feel this youth's perfections' (Twelfth Night; Act one. Olivia)

Some eight hours - and several robes and gowns - later Mrs Darcy was anew leaving Portnam Square to be conveyed through the streets of London. This time, however, she was not on her own. Indeed I'm not! An affectionate twinkle added to the beauty of her expressive eyes as she contemplated how infinitely superior to any other was her present company and, no matter whether she considered the immediate future or the one that awaited her a little further ahead, happy anticipation seemed to be simmering in her veins. Deliberately she chose to focus on the evening's event. Whenever she had visited town in the past, the Gardiners had seen to it that a night at the theatre was on the itinerary. Knowing how she always enjoyed going there and, considering that tonight she would be listening to well-loved music and continuously in the best possible company, she could but feel elated.

Nor was there anything in her recent past to bring about other feelings. The moments by his side at the altar were unforgettable, the well-wishes and congratulations in the relaxed atmosphere afterwards happily remembered. Perhaps the time spent at the wedding breakfast had seemed a little too long and the farewells from family and friends inevitably somewhat melancholy. Travelling to town with her husband had been a complex experience and meeting the inhabitants of his house a trifle intimidating. But she was convinced that there could be no woman happier than herself. The warm presence next to her made Elizabeth inhale deeply before she continued her musings.

Her second day of married life had begun with some precious, private moments and a wonderfully thoughtful gift from her husband. Furtively smiling and glancing towards Darcy she traced the outline of her ring as she considered their prolonged time together - how happily they had ignored the clock to linger in the seclusion of her rooms. But even a blissful morning must come to an end and out of necessity they had parted at last. She had forsaken his company to join her aunt and devoted hours to the agreeable task of choosing outfits from the large variety that a careful selection of London's best modistes could afford.

Never before had she experienced anything like her present predicament. Thanks to Darcy's generosity she was anticipating the delivery of such a large number of dresses that she was uncertain as to the particular details of every single one. Was it the blue or the green one that had an intricate pattern of tiny beads along the waistline? Could she be right that no less than three velvet spencers - each in a different shade to match the pattern of the muslin in her new morning gowns - had been ordered? Would that yellow ball gown really prove to be as soft and shimmering as in her memory? At present she could not claim to be much better than her silly sisters in this respect. How Kitty would have enjoyed this day! Mrs Darcy smiled with some small amount of self-reproach and a compassionate thought for the youngest resident at Longbourn, hoping there would be a time in the future, when she was able to share this kind of mundane pleasure with her sister.

¤¤¤¤¤

She was about to make her choice amongst the creations that had pleased her most, and had not more than commenced the close and scrupulous selection, when she was calmly advised to settle for all of them. Thinking her sweet aunt disposed for jocularity, Elizabeth laughingly retorted that such laziness must be condemned and that the pleasant occupation of making a choice between beautiful gowns ought to be savoured to the fullest. But Mrs Gardiner was persistent and when her niece asked that she be serious and offer the much needed guidance instead of indulging in mockery, she was pulled down on a sofa. Placing a steadying hand upon Elizabeth's arm as if support might be needed, her aunt smilingly divulged the extent of her husband's generosity. It turned out, Mr Darcy had sent word and as she acted according to the given instructions in that missive from Portnam Square, Mrs Gardiner was in the enviable position of one assigned to reveal them to his dazed wife.

“Mr Darcy has asked that I make certain you are aware of his wishes. Regarding your purchases of today that is.”

Self-consciously smoothing out the folds of a scarlet satin sash that she had unknowingly crumbled in her hand, Elizabeth regarded her aunt's face, disbelief causing a frown upon her own.

“Mr Darcy? He sent a message to Gracechurch Street? I wonder what made him do that.”

“It would seem he is in some doubt whether you mean to heed his suggestions in this respect…. If you understand that they are altogether in earnest. He is quite determined on the matter but apprehensive of your `propensity to sensible moderation'. His very words!”

Mrs Gardiner gave Elizabeth a look full of meaning and patted her arm. The latter's heart was pleasurably warmed as she began to realise why Darcy had written this note instead of being persistent at the time.

“Why, yes he was disposed to be very generous, but that does not mean I must tax his kindness to excess.”

“Disposed to be generous, was he? I think that is no great exaggeration in view of the communication imparted in his note. He actually asks me to exert `if necessary' my `considerable' influence over you….”

A faint blush coloured Elizabeth's face, as she was thus gently teased by her aunt. It was not hard to guess what she was implying. He had asked… nay, told her to be reckless … although that exchange had appeared to her to be as much in jest as in earnest. Faced with this further exhortation Mrs Darcy decided she ought to oblige her husband. Especially once Mrs Gardiner, who was knowledgeable in such things, had assured her that in future, her daily life would require a larger variety of garments. Elizabeth had suspected as much but in view of the Longbourn finances tried to disregard it. When considered in this light, however, it was all a matter of foresight rather than extravagance and hence more additions to Elizabeth's wardrobe than she could possibly have conjectured beforehand were now in the making.

Rather than at a table in Gunther's or some coffeehouse or other, their outing ended in Mrs Gardiner's parlour, where the privacy was more suited to satisfy the demands of both ladies. They had revelled in sleeve lengths and silk embroideries for some time already, and the significant missive had been presented and studied with considerable thoroughness, when the tea tray was brought in. As she handed a steaming cup to Elizabeth, her aunt commented mischievously.

“I surmise you have found no reason to regret your choice of husband, Lizzy?”

Their eyes met over the brim of the cup as, mindful of the beverage's temperature, Elizabeth took a cautious sip. The roses deepening on her cheeks betrayed that more things than Darcy's generosity to do with gowns came to mind. Upon answering the young wife could think of no other means to protect her sentiments than by laughing at herself.

“Oh no, I am rapidly turning into one of those insufferable newly wedded women who cannot speak two words together without mentioning her lord and master. But there is nothing for it, for Mr Darcy is everything that is good and kind.”

“I am so pleased to see you happy, Lizzy and I may add that there was really no call for me to ask. From the moment when you arrived to fetch me this morning, the radiance of your apparition was all I needed to convince me that nothing has taken place to dim your felicity.”

“Indeed there was not…. and has not, I assure you…. My husband takes good care of me.”

Mrs Gardiner could only speak in a way that expressed her agreement and referred to Mr Darcy's actions as far as she knew them. Raising Elizabeth's hand to hold it near the light she took a closer look at the rare gem.

“He would. It was to be expected. You are a Darcy now Elizabeth. It is bewildering really…”

She paused, while her eyes moved slowly to the beaming face of her niece. Yet when Elizabeth, wondering at the prolonged silence, shifted her attention from the signet ring, she found her aunt staring into some place far beyond Gracechurch Street. The younger woman waited patiently for the continuation of this interesting train of thought, and Mrs Gardiner's gaze soon refocused as releasing her niece's fingers she spoke thoughtfully.

“To think that I would live to see my niece wearing this crest. I remember the oak from when I was a girl. No more than a flash of it, mind you, whenever the carriage from Pemberley passed through Lambton. Very few in the town enjoyed any contact with the Darcy family and it was certainly not within my aspiration. Little did I know…”

With an inward smile she indicated the letter.

“ Mr Darcy is acting upon his marital wows. With all my wordly goods I thee endow… It is clear that he means to provide for you most generously.”

Elizabeth had picked up the paper and brushed her fingertips tenderly over Darcy's signature as she responded.

“He is to be further commended since he is going to great length in his attempts to spare my pride. Does not that note prove that he's considerate and selfless?”

Feeling that her praise would soon border on single-mindedness she added with a little laugh.

“And ever so tall and handsome!”

That glimpse of her saucy old Lizzy lured her aunt into laughing. As sensible a woman as Mrs Gardiner would certainly not trespass on Elizabeth's privacy. She was not one to walk where angels fear to tread and it was quite enough for her to ascertain that her niece was safe with Mr Darcy. When their laughter subsided she reached over to stroke Elizabeth's rosy cheek.

“Yes, my dearest Lizzy. As handsome as can be.”

¤¤¤¤¤

Without her knowledge Elizabeth's face mirrored the sentiments prompted by her recollections. Darcy, who had decided that he cared nothing for protocol when riding in privacy with his beloved wife, was seated beside her and, although he wished that nearness, this meant that in order to see her face he must keep gazing to his right. His enamoured eyes returned to admire the clear open forehead, the stretch of her upper lip beneath that straight and stubborn nose and the tiny dark spot near that same lip, which was forever urging his mouth to graze it. She had been silent and obviously lost in contemplation for some time now and he did not mind but was fascinated by her countenance for, as her thoughts wandered so did the expressions on her face.

He felt as if he was more in love with her now than ever before, although only yesterday in church he had believed such a thing impossible. She's loveable to be sure. The understatement made his lips crease. When - for a short period of time - he disregarded his own devotion, Darcy was gratified to know he was not the only one to welcome her arrival at Portnam Square. The cheerfulness of Elizabeth's disposition, her easy manners and clear-sighted common sense had influenced his house already.

Only just now he had observed a rare thing on Hudson's face as he assisted them before they left. In fact he had seen his stiff old butler almost smiling, and he was aware of his own newly acquired propensity to do likewise. He also recalled the footman who had showed Elizabeth into the library last evening. His first reaction on beholding young Paul's beaming face beyond her shoulder had been one of displeasure, but he was able to regard it with greater forbearance now. One can but feel that way when she's around. His eyes returned to her face. Now I'd be interested to know, why she smiles so sweetly and, what it is that brings on that alluring blush. Besotted and drawn in, Darcy could have devoted hours to finding the answers to such questions, but he was too prudent to venture into that field of investigation at present. He would be satisfied to watch her and know she was comfortable.

Elizabeth registered the sanguine contentment of her companion's countenance with some amount of secret relief. So far nothing had happened to cloud her horizon. She had been very happy to receive her dear aunt and uncle for dinner in her new home. Their time together had been agreeably spent and her earlier impressions confirmed. Darcy was well at ease with this part of her family and the appreciation appeared to be mutual. She had observed that her uncle treated him with affectionate placidity in much the same way as he might a younger brother, and that her husband, somewhat unexpectedly, clearly had nothing against it. In all his actions was the evidence of respect for his new kinsman and towards Aunt Gardiner he behaved with unaffected approbation. Elizabeth had to smile as, with a thought that seemed more in character with her sweet, unassuming sister, she asked herself: How is so much happiness to be borne?

She had every reason to be happy. And of course she was. Yet a tiny gnawing fear had to be mastered. This was to be her first public appearance by Darcy's side in London, as his wife - the new mistress of Pemberley and hostess of his house at Portnam Square. Very likely more women than Miss Bingley had pretended to that position and more mothers than Lady Catherine De Bourgh had been nurturing the hope that her offspring would be so fortunate a girl as to find favour with Mr Darcy. Elizabeth imagined she would be subjected to a good deal of interest and that not all of it had to be benevolent. She glanced at the handsome profile next to her and, thinking its owner was worth whatever trial awaited her suppressed her anxiety.

As had been the case whenever she was left to her own musings, Mrs Darcy then allowed herself to single out some particular moments during their first two days of connubial coexistence - and a few also from the night in between. She shied at dwelling on passion now, but there were other things to treasure. Caring gazes, words whispered, caresses in passing, and foremost - largely as a result of that astounding night and partly as a result of these looks, words and endearments - the dawning sense of secret understanding and companionship. Whenever their eyes met she knew it was there. Oh yes, Elizabeth was very happy, there need be no doubt about that.

Presently in the coach this silent mental accord was joined by another aspect of their union for, notwithstanding her circumspection, Mrs Darcy was recurrently as if electrified by the sensation of her husband's shoulder brushing against her cape and, unbeknownst to her, the gentleman was even more influenced by the enticement of this repetitive touch.

Indeed, when Darcy contemplated the hours that must pass before he would be at liberty to act upon his amorous impulses, he questioned the wisdom of their choice in spending the evening. But then again his wife's anticipation of the opera was almost palpable, most endearingly so, and could only serve to raise his own. The corners of his mouth curved irresistibly upwards as he gazed at her. With a gesture that betrayed his affection, he reached out to seize her gloved hand and express his observation by way of an understatement.

”One might suspect you are looking forward to the performance, my dear.”

Immediately disregarding her disquiet she turned to face him fully, her face alight with what looked to be unaffected joy.

“Oh yes, I'm in high spirits.”

As she continued, there was something in Elizabeth's voice, however, which left her perceptive companion wondering, whether his wife's manners might not suggest that she was more disturbed by anxiety, than she was willing to admit.

“It's almost as if my head is in a whirl. I am about to listen to some of the most exquisite music ever written accompanied by my favourite people: My dear Aunt and Uncle. And - as if my pleasure was in need of further aggrandisement - who is escorting me, but the best man I have ever known?”

She paused to regard him warmly, but as, by a slight pressure of her hand, he gave her to understand his appreciation of her assessment, that recent reflection of his was enforced anew. His eyes searched her countenance as she spoke again. He believed himself able to discern a trace of embarrassment - or even a look of appeal?

“How I blabber! You'll have to remind me, if I tend towards misbehaviour out of sheer enthusiasm!”

Although certainly clever enough to guess what might worry his beloved, Darcy was irresolute, not knowing how best to support her, when she had not asked him to. As he sat holding her hand and allowing her gaze to capture his, the problem solved itself. Neglectful of his earlier resolution to stay composed, as a matter of fact quite unable to resist Elizabeth's beaming face and imploring eyes, or to appear cool on hearing her, he raised her hand impulsively. He had only meant to hold it soothingly near his cheek, but the loose sleeve of her heavy cloak slid back exposing a bright gap in her glove.

There was a tiny slit in it, where some buttons had most obligingly been forgotten, left undone; likely to allow its bearer some freedom of movement during the preparations for the evening. The mere fact that he was there to see it spoke of their newfound intimacy and the effect was forceful. Whispering her name he pressed his lips fiercely to the warmth of bared skin. Passion had ignited a smouldering glow in his eyes, when he looked up again to amaze his wife with a bold and uncharacteristic drawl.

“I'll not unnecessarily censure any misconduct of yours, my love, since, more often than not, it is such delightful agony to suffer the consequences of it.”

He watched as Elizabeth drew breath with an irresistible blush and was immensely pleased by how she tilted her head until it rested trustfully against his shoulder. The impact of that precious weight and the lingering flower-scent from her hair was almost too much. Dear God, how I love this woman!

Elizabeth had placed her head very cautiously, so as to not thwart the maid's careful labour by deranging her coiffure, but it had been necessary, for suddenly her body lost all strength…her head had turned far too heavy and her neck too weak to hold it upright. Not knowing what to say or where to look, as she endeavoured to handle the wave of unbidden emotion, she felt her captured hand subjected to an almost painful pressure and her pulses beating beyond reason.

She stared down on the strong, capable hand that enclosed her own. What petty concerns! He loves me and I him! How foolish she was to let anxiety spoil their first days of connubial felicity! Had he not proved to her already that his love was strong enough to outlast trials and afflictions? He loves me and he will not stop doing so because of some unpleasantness. Her head felt better already, safely supported by the reliable strength of his frame. In an upward glance she perceived the outline of her husband's firm jaw. He sent her a wry smile and when she was able to move her fingers within his grasp, Elizabeth whispered his name and reciprocated with a quick squeeze. Darcy let go of her hand but only to remove his own gloves, before he applied himself anew to her arm. This time it was to close the disturbing slit as, with some difficulty, his unsteady hands buttoned her glove. The warmth of his fingers made her sigh and for a brief moment he looked up into her eyes with unsettling ardour. It was a steady, serious gaze, yet accompanied by an even deeper sigh. But he finished his task meticulously, then pulled his gloves back on and clasped her hand. They spoke no more, only sat listening to the clanking of iron-shod hooves against the pavement, the creaking of the carriage wagon and the pounding turmoil of their perturbed hearts.

Chapter 9

The remaining distance from Portnam Square offered time enough for our couple to regain appropriate composure before the equipage drove up in front of the theatre. A grey liveried footman jumped off the coach to let down the step and hold the door open. Bowing his dark head Darcy stepped out and, with one foot still on the footstep, even before replacing his hat, reached up to lend his wife a supportive hand.

Though she was standing safely on the pavement Mrs Darcy felt a little bereft when her husband released her. That same hand had fortified her in the carriage and while he turned from her to give instructions to the coachman she had to do without it. I need only extend my arm to touch him. . . and yet. . . I miss his hand. She saw reason to reproach herself since, by necessity, his manners must be more restricted now they were again under the public eye. How very silly! He'll be by my side all evening.

She pulled her cloak tightly together and, in search of the rest of their party, looked resolutely over her shoulder. We are no longer on our own. That has got to make for a difference. When she espied Mr Gardiner's carriage arriving within view down the street, she was reminded that she'd soon be subjected to the observation of very astute eyes, no matter how friendly. Elizabeth took a deep steadying breath and lifted her eyes to admire the prospect of the night. The evening sky had no clouds and to the veiled eyes of an enamoured young wife it looked very much as if dark blue silk had been expanded over the black silhouette of the city.

Her voice drowned by the noise as their empty carriage rumbled off, Elizabeth drew her husband's attention with very few words and a brief touch upon his sleeve. Darcy followed her gaze upwards, and, reminded by the awe-inspiring starry firmament of their shared admiration of it the night before, tucked her hand under his arm. Without realising how that intuitive action pleased and gratified his wife, he gave her to understand his mute concurrence by pressing it to his side. This star-bound interlude was of short duration for it was soon disrupted by the arrival of the Gardiners.

§§§§

When, from inside the coach, she first caught sight of the young lovers in heavenly contemplation outside the theatre, Mrs Gardiner had to bite down on her lip in order to conceal a smile. Even though there could be no suspicion as to her being ill-disposed, she did not envisage that Mr Darcy would appreciate the merest touch of condescension as in amused indulgence. How was he to know that the smile she sought to hide was anything but supercilious, was complex, emotional and tender, brought about by reminiscences from her own youth, her love for her niece and her cognizance of the meandering ways these two had had to follow before they were finally allowed to meet and form their felicitous union.

The appearance of a groom who swung open the door of the newly arrived vehicle brought the star watchers back to the present with a start and, assuming his responsibilities as host, Darcy ushered his guests towards the grand entrance. There was no evidence of the snow that had spread its inconvenient wet cover all over London before the latest change in the weather. The pavement in the area outside King's Theatre had been painstakingly swept, and the elegantly dressed ladies and gentlemen were able to walk the few steps into the shelter of the theatre's welcoming hall dry-shod.

Once inside they were met by warmth, light, the loud murmur of animated conversation and wide placards announcing

La Nozze De Figaro

Opera in four acts

by

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

Libretto by

Lorenzo da Ponte

A performance of outstanding, artistic achievement

Sung in Italian!

Other signs proclaimed the names of the conductor and the most distinguished opera-singers; the bolder the script and the higher up on the placard, the more significant the artist. The theatregoers were assembling in the big entrance hall, their cheerful voices betraying that a majority among them had until recently been seated at dinner tables groaning with delicious courses and ever refilled wineglasses.

Provided that there can be nothing amiss about a heart that is beating with happy pride, Darcy was not at fault when he entered the foyer with his wife on his arm and proceeded with head erect escorting his party through the crowd. Elizabeth observed how, in some subtle way, his tall figure and innate authority prompted people to step aside, opening a passage for them without his having to voice a request or do anything concrete and that, although the hall was crowded, their party was thus able to advance smoothly until they were arrived just beneath the grand staircase leading to the upper boxes and foyers.

They were about to begin the ascent, when, quite unexpectedly, someone was heard calling out to Darcy and next thing they were hindered by the stout form of an imposing, elegantly attired man. This commanding gentleman had stepped forward from across the hall and in his wake was a lady of much the same dimensions. She looked to be as expensively dressed, in layers of green silk, was richly adorned by jewellery and had a conspicuous bright plume arrangement attached to her hairdo. Her companion made the obligatory bow, before he spoke again with, what seemed to Elizabeth, amazing familiarity.

"Darcy! My excellent fellow! What a capital surprise! So, back in town, are you? It has got to be many weeks since last I saw you in society. I say, can not remember when such a benevolent smile was on your countenance. Deeming from it the most sincere congratulations on your nuptials must be in order."

Elizabeth saw Darcy incline his head in acquiescence and noticed that he only had time to reciprocate with a polite, if not as verbose, greeting. He then directed his attention toward her, evidently with the object of effecting an introduction. But, before he had time to accomplish that, the purposeful lady clearly felt it was her turn to speak.

"Now, Mr Darcy. What a sensible thing to do! Marriage, that is. Procuring a wife. I am so excessively pleased to find an opportunity to add my felicitations, to congratulate you as well and wish you every happiness! We implore you to introduce us at once, for I myself am most anxious to have you do so. And I am sure Lord Manning is too. We must be allowed the honour of Mrs Darcy's acquaintance!"

Elizabeth, who had spotted an outstanding addition to her mental collection of characters, paid close attention. By every appearance this was a talkative lady and, since she was in the habit of accentuating her speech by frequent stresses and nods, a lady also whose briskness was brought to further attention by the two ostrich feathers in a striking turquoise blue colour. She had all but interrupted Darcy and while she was still addressing the gentleman, she eyed Elizabeth curiously, with an eagerness that the latter found a little too direct.

Owing to a minor frown upon his brow Elizabeth suspected that her reserved husband might be of the same opinion. But, as could be expected, he knew very well what was dictated by propriety. Facing the woman with the same imperturbably polite smile, he promptly proceeded as had been his intention.

"It would be my honour to introduce my wife to you. This is Lady Manning, my dear. Her husband is an old companion of mine from Cambridge, Lord Tony Manning. They are also our neighbours at Portnam Square. His lordship's is the yellow house on the corner of Wigmore Street."

Darcy was barely done introducing Elizabeth, when lady Manning spoke again.

"I am so thrilled to be among the first to welcome you to London, Mrs Darcy. You have not been here long, have you? Oh, and please accept my felicitations on your wedding. I understand it took place recently? In the country was it? Hereford? We could not help but notice your arrival yesterday. I trust your journey was safe and comfortable?"

A little bewildered by the menacing feathers and the many inquiries Elizabeth did her best to disregard the former and sort out the latter. Lord Manning managed to insert a much shorter greeting once his wife fell silent and Elizabeth bestowed a smile upon him before she addressed his eager wife. In doing so she was determined to keep her impertinence at bay and to answer with civility but without encouraging further curiosity. She almost made it.

"Thank you, my lady, on both accounts. It is a pleasure to meet a neighbour of ours. Most of your information is correct. We were married yesterday in Hertfordshire and set out for London after the wedding breakfast."

"Oh! You were travelling for hours then. How inconvenient! How fatiguing! You must have been thoroughly shaken, Mrs Darcy."

Elizabeth looked closely but could detect no malice and hence resumed her account.

" Although there has been some bad weather, the roads were in tolerable condition and as Mr Darcy's coachman is a skilful driver and quite cautious, we arrived safely, but perhaps a little late. I trust, you were not in any way inconvenienced by the rustle?"

Lady Manning stepped closer, not in the least affronted by the implication of undue curiosity and obviously desirous to establish a feminine intimacy by exclusion of the men. Beyond the vigorously wagging feathers Elizabeth noticed her husband's countenance, where amusement and displeasure fought to take command, before he sent her a rather mischievous little smile and turned to see to it that Mr and Mrs Gardiner were introduced to Lord Manning. Elizabeth stifled a threatening grin of her own and took care to pay attention to her ladyship's effusions with determined affability.

"No no, my dear Mrs Darcy. No inconvenience, not at all. It just so happened that I was sitting by my screen in the blue drawing-room. The one facing the square, you know, but oh I forget, how could you knowÖYou shall have to come visit us very soon. Well anyhow, I had sent the girl, Miss Mortimer, to fetch another needle for me, Öit's most vexing, but I always keep dropping themÖ.she passed the window and caught sight of your carriage. She so admires your handsome greys, Mr Darcy. OhÖ where did he go? Well, I hope to see more of the pair of you soon. Perchance tomorrow. Shall you be receiving?"

Elizabeth, though she was somewhat surprised to be confronted by the overwhelming appearance of Lady Manning, also felt comforted by the evidence that people in town might occasionally be just as silly as some in Meryton. It was a relief to know that if necessary, her ladyship could probably be easily diverted by the introduction of another topic.

She started out to formulate a response to the latest query knowing it must be declined but, realising she did not know when they were to return to town, she glanced towards Darcy who had been conversing amiably with his guests and lord Manning. When Elizabeth caught his eye, it was as if he could sense her irresolution, for he left his lordship to the Gardiners and immediately resumed his place next to her. The oddest mixture of emotions stirred within, for that proximity offered Mrs Darcy a certain excitement as well as the desired comfort. The gentleman on his part was not impassive to note that her beautiful eyes signalled a gratitude of remarkable warmth as she explained to him how matters stood.

"Lady Manning wishes to know when we will be at home to visitors."

Darcy concealed his spontaneous happiness and the consequent impulses masterfully and complied with protocol by seeing to it that the Gardiners were introduced to her ladyship. Once that was accomplished he obeyed Elizabeth's entreaty, readily coming to her rescue by clarifying to the dissatisfied woman that they would be leaving town quite early on the morrow and that no date for their return was fixed as yet. This was not at all easily comprehended, however.

"What? Leaving? Already? Tomorrow morning? But... are not you staying for Her Majesty's Birthday?"

Thus forced to reveal more of his private plans, Darcy explained with unwavering civility and an appearance of regret, that alas, they could not. Whereas a brief glance told his wife, how light-hearted he was to forego that ceremonious occasion, and how vastly more agreeable he found his own prospect.

"I fear not. Mrs Darcy has spent but little time at Pemberley and I am sure you won't blame me for being anxious to have her know it better. It is our intention to spend most of the winter in Derbyshire."

Quite moved to hear him avow to a matter of such a private nature Elizabeth smiled. Next she had to witness as a second volley of exclamations was discharged against her brave knight.

"The winter? All of it? Ohh! What a pity! To us, that is. I know Pemberley is as charming a place as ever there was! And your decision to go there is only natural, I suppose. Of course Mrs Darcy would want to get settled. But we will be deprived of your company all too soon. And for such a long time. I had rather hoped to see your charming sister this upcoming season. Miss Darcy must be coming of age and such a fine young lady by now. When can she be expected to take her rightful place in society".

Oh, that arrow hit the mark! Elizabeth watched Darcy's shoulders stiffen and the almost imperceptible flexing of a muscle in his jaw. Her heart went out to him.

"Not this season, my lady. My sister is still very young. We are looking forward to the pleasure of having Miss Darcy join us at Pemberley within the next week. She will spend the winter months there. And now, If you'll pardon my saying so, I reckon there's not much time left before the overture and think we had better seek out our seats. Mrs Darcy, will you allow me to escort you upstairs?"

During the whole of this exchange Elizabeth had been pleased to notice her husband's diplomacy and amiable manners. She was quite amazed that no unease was visible on his face, which as a matter of fact had rather contradicted his regretful intonation. He was all but smiling as he bowed and offered his arm to her before soliciting the attention of their company. After exchanging nods and parting civilities with the Mannings they proceeded up the stairs towards their box. Inclining his head he whispered softly near her temple.

"Well done, Mrs Darcy. I'm all admiration."

She eyed him archly.

"You are surprised then that I can maintain polite conversation?"

His smile was decidedly tender.

"No indeed! I am perfectly aware of your gift for verbal exchange. But in this instance you were faced with an extraordinary challenge and I still say you handled our neighbour admirably."

She treasured his approval but was at the same time annoyed to find herself prone to such dependency. Was a woman left less sovereign by harbouring such a wish for her husband's good opinion? Almost against her will the confused feelings made her bow with exaggerated humility.

"Sir! You do me great honour."

Regretting her lack of civility she looked up hastily to see that he did not disapprove of her impertinence, but instead the warmth upon his countenance provoked a smile.

"The honour, my dearest Mrs Darcy, is altogether mine."

Elizabeth basked in his affection and every other feeling vanished. Although they had spoken softly, more than one head was turned in their direction, for while this exchange took place, during their continued ascent up the broad staircase, the couple made an arresting sight.

Some would presume it was the elegance of their attire that drew glances, and there is no denying that the sight of the tall gentleman's well-tailored black coattails next to the warm cinnamon shade of young Mrs Darcy's unadorned velvet dress was striking. But in the opinion of others, the fascination was all in the turn of their countenances. Darcy, upright and handsome with a newly procured reason to look proud, but with this haughty mien tempered by tenderness, and Elizabeth's face, as she floated upwards on his arm, rendered uncommonly attractive by the unmistakable inner glow that comes from happiness.

While he escorted his guests to their seats the subtle blend of impressions began affecting his senses in the same manner it had always done. Instantly upon entering the box there was the familiar dusty smell of velvet curtains and upholstery, by this time of year invigoratingly mixed with the hints of winter coolness that lingered in the folds of their cloaks. Beyond the balustrade, framed by heavy hangings awaited the festive warmth of the ruby red salon with its gilded woodwork, where the illumination from candles and gas was splendidly reflected by the well-polished brass in sconces and railings and glittering in the cut glass drops of the big chandeliers. He sensed the air vibrant with anticipation, polite small talk and the incessant buzz from newly arrived parties finding their places. All these elements of scent, sight and sound joined to accentuate and intensify the atmosphere, made him acknowledge his partiality for this place and connect to all the visits he had paid to it in years past.

They were still disposing of their outer garments in the little anteroom designed for that purpose when he surmised that since his family had held season tickets for years, this was the very box from whence he had been watching Elizabeth last spring in such torment. How crushed all his hopes had been then, how utterly unlikely the prospect of tonight! Unaccountable evenings he had taken refuge in the sombre atmosphere of the theatre, vainly attempting to escape the incontestable misery of his existence after her smarting refusal. He would not then have dared imagine that he was one day to bring her hither.

Elizabeth's perfume drifted by as a reminder that this time was different and, with his musings so delightfully interrupted, he gave his full, justified attention to assisting his wife with her cloak. Despite the presence of a diligent footman who was at present busy waiting upon Mrs Gardiner, he was entitled to perform such gentleman-like deeds, if only he took care to do so in a detached manner. He most certainly must not give in to the compelling inducement of bared shoulders and scented hair.

When the cloak came off, her neck rose before him; its pillar on creamy white shoulders a delicate continuation of the exquisite arc of her spine. He'd long been affected by its vulnerable quality and tonight, indubitably thanks to their new-found intimacy, it offered an even headier temptation. How dearly he would wish to trace that line with his lips. From under the tiny curls in the nape all the way down… .Staring at her fair skin he was strongly inclined to forget about society, to lose himself in the scented warmth of her. She is all softness. Hair, cheeks, soft curves under that golden fabric. I might wish we were still inside the coach. He remembered the sensation of her warm skin against his lips and the sweet agony surged through him again. In search of a distraction his gaze travelled over the stalls and balconies until it came to rest for a moment on the stage curtain. Fleetingly he speculated upon how its heavy shadows always looked to be hiding mysterious secrets and, on a less conscious level as to how much time must pass until he would be free to embrace his wife as his ardour demanded.

His speculations induced him to direct his gaze back inside the box, seeking out the graceful form of his beloved. As she was that instant involved in an animated exchange with her aunt, Elizabeth noticed neither the awed happiness of his initial look nor the stealthy smile in its suit.

In order to arrange the furniture of the box according to his wishes, Darcy asked the man to shift the velvet armchairs about, so that the ladies were to sit up front where the view was undisturbed and have their cavaliers seated askew behind them. While this was completed, Elizabeth took up a position with Mrs Gardiner near the balustrade. Her observant gaze was idly surveying the audience and, when she turned to face her company, it was with such an arch expression and enquiry as was sure to alert her husband's amused attention.

“Considering the present arrangement of chairs, I would expect no small amount of happiness from you, dear sirs. I reckon, you are aware that my sweet Aunt and I have been so kind as to refrain from certain fashionable excesses in attire?”

Swaying a hand near her artfully pinned up, dark curls, she imitated the huge feathers that adorned many a head in the crowd, albeit not everyone's as colourful as that of Lady Manning. Mr Gardiner gave an appreciative snort and Darcy, relieved to be diverted from his heated musings, very nearly grinned as he inclined his head to suggest a bow.

“We are most obliged, I'm sure. Our gratitude will be eternally yours, madam.”

Mrs Gardiner told her niece she was incorrigible but was eloquently contradicted of course, and shaking his head in mock despair Elizabeth's uncle fell silent studying a sheet of programme. Darcy smiled on hearing the good-natured female debate, but, left to himself, soon lapsed back into his recent speculations.

How that one special evening stood out in his memory - the only one, out of all these past visits, when Elizabeth although present had been so painfully unobtainable. She had been seated with her aunt and uncle in the stalls, visibly enjoying herself and sharing the experience with kindred spirits, whereas he had been left to admire her in solitude from afar, with no hope of ever getting any closer. He closed his eyes. The box was the same, the diversified sounds from the huge auditorium were no different. Indeed, even the very opera they were about to enjoy was the same as had been performed when he had been observing his lost love from an agonizing distance.

With a deep sigh, occasioned by the softening of that memory in view of his present happiness, he reopened his eyes and took in it all. Members of the orchestra were taking their seats near the stage. The first scrape of a single violin, soon to be followed by additional noise as more instruments were being tuned: the surging tide of conversation rousing towards the elaborately painted ceiling; people in the boxes nearby greeting him and his company with smiles and gracious nods. Considering all this he acknowledged the familiarity of it - and yet! Was this really the same place where he had been so miserable only eight months ago? Infinitely content he looked around before his brimming heart made him send another glance Elizabeth's way. Beloved one! Your presence makes so great a difference.

It would prove that Darcy had been wise in suggesting that they part from the Mannings with no further delay, for they had not long been seated before the stray successions of notes subsided. The mighty murmur abated, as voices sank to whispers and the rustle of programmes decreased. Greeted by applause the conductor made his appearance and, after a measured nod, took his place in the front row. The lifted bow demanded silence and, adjusting his instrument, he claimed attention until the great verve of his first stroke set free the glimmering notes of the overture. With an expectant breath Darcy settled back comfortably in his chair. Although beautiful in their own right, he always regarded these introductory melody trails as being especially godsend, because of how they contrasted to the cacophony that preceded them.

Expectations were raised gradually, as more instruments joined in, until the notes had formed an overpowering richness and were no longer to be held back. Thus the music of the overture - that initial gushing spring - grew into a rill, a brook, an ever-widening stream and burst forth in a powerful, irresistible flood. By notes brought into exquisite and commanding order, enticing human minds to let the spirit be lifted from its present existence, the audience was cleverly prepared to be carried away upon a sea of sound; to partake of a tale that had been most intricately conceived - in jest and in earnest - by a magician.

Such a gifted musician. Again he inhaled deeply and when Elizabeth turned her head to send him a glance, brilliant with happy excitement, Darcy smiled, blissfully aware she was sharing his sentiments. The warmth of his affectionate eyes paid court to his wife even when she had long since redirected her gaze toward the orchestra.

With the exclusion perhaps of one man's interest, which was to great extent bestowed elsewhere, the listeners' attention was soon further captured, skilfully drawn towards the stage when the curtains parted to reveal a man who was stepping out the area where his wedding-bed would be placed. Supervised by his fair fiancée, he was measuring the floor, while his purposeful baritone transmitted the result of his activities into song.

The size of a wedding bed commented upon in front of the bride-to-be! Mischievous fellow, Mozart! Darcy glanced at his own bride and instantly realised he was no better. But then who can claim to be completely above calculation? Had he not himself recently seen to it that her chair was slyly angled so as to afford him the possibility of admiring her profile whenever he chose to? Arts seem to be part of our imperfect nature as our composer was well aware.

His thoughts went so easily astray today, and he wondered if hers did too, as with impudent eyes he caressed the profile of his wife. He suspected her cheeks might be coloured but could not be positive. The nuance of her complexion was concealed from him, obscured in the semidarkness of the box.

She was not aware of her lover's gaze, but Elizabeth's face had indeed warmed a little on recalling what this first scene was all about. Notwithstanding her circumstances being very different, she had never felt more related to Susanna. She could well imagine her state of mind, although this young woman's wedding joy was tarnished by complications and her fiancé nothing like Mr Darcy. She could not but smile a little as she tried to imagine what were her husband thoughts.

Seated behind her that gentleman was somewhat displeased while forced to consider the flaws of a member of the aristocracy. The presentation of the barber's troubles was intelligent enough, and the main theme on the wanderings of love far from uninteresting, but Darcy's reason for returning to relive it repeatedly was foremost the complexity and beauty of the music. In order to hear it he was prepared to overlook some amount of questionable plot devices. The rivalry between the count and his valet had been the subject of debate at White's. There existed some strong objections to the libretto; there were those among his peers who were upset, exasperated even, about what they named the revolutionary elements in the opera and he could see their point. He was slightly doubtful himself as to the propriety of a valet mocking his master by that insolent invitation to dance. But on the other hand, this particular master deserved no better. If looked upon as a separate private matter, rather than a revolutionary attempt to instigate rebellion, Figaro's jealous irritation was utterly understandable. Darcy could easily fathom a young lover's violent reaction in the face of such an insufferable insult. Capriola*, indeed! Little wonder this nobleman is exposed to ridicule, if people are not treated with due respect.

But then this whole concept of `droîte de seigneur' is outrageous, of course. He was predisposed to dwell on anything to do with his wife and, due to his most recent speculations, Darcy's attention was flickering between Elizabeth's person and the development of the play. Wondering whether her sensibilities might be affected, he tried to imagine her reaction to the story. Apart from that there were certainly other aspects about her to arrest his gaze and offer a most agreeable employment of his mind.

The Gardiners, with their circumstantial knowledge of the latent overtures to the union so recently confirmed in the eyes of the world, were well aware that their niece had bewitched her serious-minded husband and that proof of the young gentleman's predicament was almost constantly to be found in their box. But they indulged the couple by aiming most of their attention toward the orchestra and the theatrical drama.

On one occasion during the second act, however, Mr. Gardiner, whose seat offered more of an overview of the box's interior, could not but notice how his niece's purse slipped from her lap. He feigned complete ignorance, benevolently allowing her bewitched husband to collect the trophy from the floor. When this action was not immediately followed by a courteous return of the reticule to its owner, Edward Gardiner was puzzled and tempted to divide his interest between the stage and the box.

Outwardly he was absorbed by an all-consuming interest in poor Cherubin's fate, as the countess and her chambermaid were amusing themselves at the boy's expense. But he kept an eye on the mature gentleman next to him also, for his host showed incontrovertible signs of being equally at a woman's mercy. What is Darcy up to? Still got that purse. Opening it? Surely he is not foolish enough to search it? No, thank heavens! But I believe he's as good as kissing it. Or…ah, he's inhaling! Dear chap, that figures. Always considered Darcy besotted beyond rescue. Better leave the poor lost man to his scented worship! With a benign little smile Mr. Gardiner redirected his attention towards the stage.

Convinced of being safely shielded by the shadow of the curtains to his right, Darcy had no idea he had been observed from the left. Once he had collected the soft purse from the box's carpet-covered floor, he had hesitated, initially unwilling to disturb Elizabeth in the middle of an aria. Then the smooth velvet texture in his hands suddenly struck him by being so evocatively feminine. He had eased the reticule half-open and, stealthily waving it under his nose, imbibed the perfume from a lace handkerchief inside it. His nostrils were filled with lavender scent, when his gaze locked upon the slender pillar of her neck. The impact of that gracile curve beneath dark curls made him forget about the purse and the hand holding it sank onto his knee. Her hair had been in some wonderful manner arranged to bare the nape of her neck. The sight of a few ringlets grazing the skin where his lips ached to be, made him realise fully what was understood by an inward moan and he kept staring until the urge to touch her seemed unbearable.

Simultaneously alluring notes from the stage stole upon his senses. It was the fatal melody which, whilst sung by Elizabeth in the music room last summer, had not only made him admit that the fair performer was more dear to him than ever, but which had been accompanied by an extraordinary gaze. Such a tender expression in her fine eyes as to make resuscitating drops of hope quicken his despairing heart. The aria still carried amorous implications and his mind raced. This is temptation. I mustn't kiss her throat, but something ought to be possible.

Not very far from him, Elizabeth's right arm was resting on the upholstery of the curved balustrade to her side. From the trimming of her velvet sleeve hung a tiny silk tassel. It drew his eyes to the naked part of her arm. The soft shimmer of bare skin lured him into placing his hand near it, pretending he needed the support as he bent forward to provide a sheet of programme for Mrs Gardiner. Accompanied by the sweet words of Cherubin's song `Sento un affetto pien di desir*…' Oh yes, full of desire…his hand slid slowly forward on the deep red support, getting ever closer, until eventually, he was able to brush her arm just above the elbow with gloved fingertips. Elizabeth, who had been following the game of hide-and-seek played out on stage through a pair of binoculars, startled. Mozart's sensuous music rendered the exciting impact of her husband's tentative attention even more pleasurable and his unexpected touch sent a subtle message down her spine.

She lowered the binoculars and inclined her head to the right. Although their eyes did not meet, Darcy saw and treasured her mute communication, as she acknowledged his endearment with a tremulous smile. How I love her! I am nearly undone. His fingers lingered near her creamy flesh and, without regard for caution, he repeated the minute, feathery caress over and over. Any movement on her part was eagerly noted and interpreted as a response to his touch. On few occasions had Darcy been so lost to the world when in company. For a man of his discretion, such carelessness in the face of the dictates of society was rare. His pulses were pounding, he could barely think rationally and, it was not until he found himself actually considering a kiss on the soft skin of her arm that he got hold of his impulses and forced himself to sober up. Realising that he had been unwise beyond measure, he looked around and thought he might have caught the flicker of a smile on Mr Gardiner's face. That suspicion was intimidating enough that he should instantly withdraw his hand. Mi piace languir cosi* was heard from the stage.

Sweet suffering, indeed. Sinking back in his chair, Darcy exhaled slowly. A little later he made himself part with the purse and enjoyed some brief attention from its owner. He apprehended a fascinating glimpse of her countenance, when upon receiving the reticule, the initial look of astonishment was replaced by lowered lashes and an endearing blush.

So recently blessed by love, so perfectly unassuming was Darcy in this respect that he had very little idea Elizabeth was occupied by anything but the performance before her eyes. The next few weeks were to teach him that although a lover may have to endure a good deal of sweet torment, so may his lady.

Almost from the first moments in the box, Elizabeth had been hoping for some attention, if ever so brief, to ease her longing. But when there was some, she was amazed to realise the insufficiency of it. She had felt the warmth of his eyes and been subjected to bewildering breezes when he leaned forward to make a subdued comment near her ear. But, apart from that bold stroking of her arm and the transient squeezing of her fingers that accompanied the return of her reticule, she had experienced nothing more than vaguely satisfying.

She had been exceedingly cautious, adamant that her manners were perceived as nothing but impeccable and it is by no means unlikely that it was thanks to her circumspection their clandestine communication in the box remained a secret. Although the interest was keen, the ton had missed this incident; in fact none but Mr Gardiner had noticed.

Not that there was any great need for further evidence. After their arrival and, later on, appearance in the grand public foyer between acts, it was clear to everyone who cared to take a closer look that the proud Mr Darcy was completely infatuated with his wife and that there was a particular warmth in her dark eyes, when the charming and quick-witted young lady from Hertfordshire regarded her husband.

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During the intermissions they were again accosted by several ladies and gentlemen, most of whom were of Darcy's acquaintance but some were of Mr Gardiner's as well. None were as forward as Lady Manning, thankfully, since few were as easily handled, but Elizabeth was resolved that she not allow herself to become intimidated. Reckoning that if she did so now, she would risk to always feel awkward among Darcy's peers. She was determined that must not happen and on the whole, thought she was managing tolerably.

Most of the opera-goers with whom they conversed had at least one opinion in common with the Mannings, however. Upon hearing that the couple was about to leave town so soon, their reaction was generally one of disappointment and even occasionally bordering on disapprobation. Obviously the news about Darcy's marriage had ignited expectations that he would bring two hitherto unknown ladies into the social swirl. The manifestations of disappointment were not levelled at Elizabeth though and Darcy was the one left to defend his unpalatable course of action.

Would they not be around for Her Majesty's Birthnight Ball? Was he really about to deprive town of Mrs Darcy's presence? Would he not bestow upon the season such a graceful new addition? Not allow his wife the pleasures of gowns or the amusement of innocent gossip? And what about Miss Darcy? Surely she must be very eager to take part in society. All young girls were. When was his sister coming out? One would have thought once he got married, his wife would tell him not to shun the pleasures of the season. Ladies - he must consider - were generally quite fond of balls and gatherings. Much more so than the average gentleman.

Expressions of regret and even admonitions in this vein were plentiful. Elizabeth stood by her husband in this crossfire of polite displeasure as he repeated the information on their departure with amazing patience. One minute she heard his deep voice refuse an invitation to a musical soirée, and the next watched the impeccable mien of regret on his handsome face as he declared their inability to attend a grand New Year's Ball.

In the course of the evening she understood with increasing clarity that he had been raised and trained to such behaviour from his early years. That his manners were a lifelong habit, resulting from inherited obligations and although the difference, if compared to how she had perceived him when he first came into Hertfordshire, was indeed great, she could imagine how that came to be.

How infinitely tempting any respite from such tedious and superficial good manners must appear. There had been nobody in Meryton to whom he owed the kind of respect and civil rituals that seemed to be an inexorable part of his usual existence. She was beginning to see that in town there existed a rather strict protocol to conform to when you were part of the fashionable world. That there were rules, the adherence to which was necessary in order to sustain old bonds of relationship and smooth social intercourse.

When he was staying with Mr Bingley at Netherfield, had he perhaps wished to shut out social life? It was as if he had restricted his capacity for civility to a minimum, to turn the opportunity to account by as good as shunning the ladies near Meryton,. He had been known to associate with the gentlemen, shooting with the squires and dining with the officers , perhaps not in an overly amiable fashion, but without giving offence. If considered more closely, his reputation had been to large extent based upon his behaviour at balls and assemblies. With the exception of Bingley's sisters, he had scarcely danced at all and never indulged the ladies by the customary courteous attentions. Positioned near a fireplace or stalking about the rooms he had rarely sought even a male conversation partner of his own accord.

Elizabeth herself had been one of the few ladies ever honoured by his attention. Even odder then that she never for a moment suspected his partiality. She had been blinded by prejudice and thus nearly failed to secure her present happiness.

Mrs Darcy glanced across the floor to where her exacting husband was standing. He was partaking in an animated conversation with Lord Manning and another gentleman, or rather, Mr Darcy was listening to an enthusiastic presentation with his countenance marked by the well-known reticence. The gleam in his dark eyes was anything but dull though and as Elizabeth's loving gaze came to rest upon his thick tangle of dark hair she pulled a little sigh. His reserve was so dear to her now. Well-nigh everything about him made her heart swell with love.

Not all well wishers were of the Manning kind. Quite a few single gentlemen of Darcy's acquaintance, companions from his bachelor days, were in attendance and eager to see for themselves what sort of woman had succeeded where many a well dowered beauty had failed. When the introductions were over with, and the customary courtesies had been interchanged, Darcy tended to back off slightly, unobtrusively removing them from the immediate proximity of the ladies. He was supported in his endeavour by an amused Mr Gardiner. Mrs Gardiner told Mrs Darcy she believed they were probably better off without overhearing the male exchange in its entirety.

Her remark brought an embarrassed smile to her niece's lips but, as Elizabeth was thus at liberty to observe her husband when his attention was not upon her, emotions of an unforeseen nature took precedence. Since they were arrived at the theatre and settled in their box, she had been afforded few opportunities to even glance at Darcy, let alone dwell on his appearance for any length of time. She had been constantly aware of his compelling presence where he was seated out of sight behind her and, now and again, when the music was restricted to pianissimo, she had heard him breathe or shift in his chair. Very often she had then been assaulted by anticipation, shamelessly hoping he was about to lean forward to tickle her ear with a subdued comment. To her secret delight he had indeed done so ñ and more than once. But while this had certainly been a pleasant experience, so was the somewhat different agitation, which soon arose from admiring her husband without the impediment of his being near.

Bewildered by a sensation of unseemly greed now she was able to look her eyes' fill, she studied him furtively where he stood upright and conspicuously handsome in his black attire. That shade suited him exceedingly well, as it accentuated the darkness of hair and eyes, and tonight it made for a fine contrast to a white satin waistcoat, an exquisite thing, embroidered in a very light pattern of gold thread. A crisp neck-cloth, strikingly white below the dark shadow of his chin, completed his elegance by a perfect, albeit not overly conspicuous, knot. She could detect no other gentleman with his distinguished good looks.

Upon admiring Darcy's appearance from a certain distance and, excited as well as disconcerted by that excitement, Mrs Darcy found her mind capriciously alternating between what was before her eyes and some recollections prompted by that sight. Furthermore, some unexpected ideas, some highly surprising whims of mind, ensued as a result of these impressions. During the weeks of their engagement she had admired him many times across a room, but never with this shocking ... inquisitiveness! How could she even begin to consider such notions?

Overcome by the nature of her speculations Elizabeth passed a hand down the skirt of her gown, smoothing invisible creases, but knowing that she would really have preferred to touch her husband's waistcoat. How unaccountably eager she was to feel its golden threads against her palm! She could almost hear the rasping, as her glove passed down his silken chest. As if to confirm that she would not give in to such a preposterous wish, Elizabeth shook her head imperceptibly, but the unbidden thoughts were not easily checked. Perfectly aware that she allowed them to take a less sensible course, she imagined what might follow upon an initiative of that kind once they were again in private. He would... regard me with that particular expression in his eyes ... the thought made her smile inwardly... and then, likely embrace me. She inhaled. I would... kiss his chin ...bury my nose under it and surely ruin that impeccable knot.

Despite the fact that Elizabeth took care to make the occasional polite remark and gesture of civil attention, the colouring of her cheeks and warm gaze did not go altogether unnoticed. Ever susceptible to his beloved, Darcy was unresistingly drawn in and, although he was not so conceited as to guess what had brought the magic shine to her dark eyes, he was very much inclined to join his wife at once. Had it not been for the inconvenience of some excessively talkative club members, he would have acted upon his wish. Out of politeness, he endeavoured instead to pay attention to what was said, while noting with some irritation, how the eyes of other men were arrested by the sight of the blossoming young woman, his beloved wife. He was registering this without the comfort of knowing that he himself was the main reason for her extraordinary allurement.

There was another present though, who was able to deduce without difficulty the origin of the clandestine devotion that affected Elizabeth's face and subtly radiated from her entire being and hence Mrs Darcy found herself addressed by Mrs Gardiner. With a minuscule smile and feeling no less protective, than when she had been chaperoning the young girl of years past, this observant lady spoke up. By posing a veiled question, she alerted her niece to the perils of exposing her sentiments to the public eye.

"I take it that fascinated expression of yours follows from your being puzzled by count Almaviva, Lizzy. Are you so utterly intrigued by his reaction to the game of disguise among the ladies?"

Elizabeth started and gave an embarrassed little laugh on realising that her mind had been far too transparent.

"You know me so well, my sweet Aunt! Perhaps I could use some measure of disguise myself? I would no doubt be wise to keep my thoughts from wandering."

Mrs Gardiner smiled, but her nod was affirmative and Elizabeth, knowing that mild reproof to be well deserved attempted thereafter to appear more fashionably detached although her eyes kept returning to where Darcy was standing. Her husband seemed to be continuously busy, now facing a lean and lanky gentleman who had approached with the intention of paying his respects to Mr Darcy and his party.

Mrs Gardiner was able to inform her niece that by every appearance, her uncle was about to become acquainted to Mr Magnus Charte, the much esteemed elder half of and senior lawyer from Charte & Wrong's firm of solicitors. From what her aunt disclosed, this introduction could be of some consequence to Mr Gardiner's business and Elizabeth, noting her uncle's pleased demeanour, sent a grateful thought to her beloved. He was offering ample proof that he had accepted his new family member without restrictions.

Her loving gaze would linger on Darcy with the sincerest admiration, but she remembered her Aunt Gardiner's warning. Perhaps she was not much wiser to direct her attention instead into wondering, whether his exemplary appearance was solely the work of Roget, and if not, to what extent her beloved husband took an interest in matters of attire. Yet, in a way, this was what she came to do next.

She was engrossed in an amusing exchange with Mrs Gardiner and an amiable lady of her acquaintance, whom Elizabeth had met in Gracechurch Street many times. The subject for their consideration was the different methods of disguise that were a theme in the night's opera. Mrs Darcy's thoughts jumped from the playful scene they had recently witnessed, where Cherubino's ludicrous outfit consisted of a bodice with a small floral pattern and a bright silk skirt, to another event of a similar kind, to which she had been treated by her sisters. With her usual lively mimic and pert emphasis, she related a prank played by Kitty and Lydia in cohort with some soldiers from the militia, when their regiment had been wintering near her former home in Hertfordshire.

Her youngest sisters had been hard pressed to stop giggling, even when they were merely describing the obliging nature of one of the junior soldiers. Apparently he had been only too happy to entertain the good-humoured Bennet girls.

This boy had allowed them to dress him up and if one were to believe the tittering girls, the transformation had been successful enough to fool some of his fellow officers. Elizabeth certified that young Chamberlain ñ as was his name - looked like Cherubino in that he was slender-limbed, almost slight, and fair-skinned with the smooth face of a boy. His complexion might not as easily betray him the way a darker gentleman's would.

Mrs Gardiner who had newly been forced to experience the willfulness and flippant nature of her youngest niece had shown an air of moderate misgiving until she succumbed to Lizzy's folly. While both ladies were laughing, Elizabeth who glanced towards her husband and the shade on his dark-stubbled chin, concluded with pleasure that he wouldn't be able to fool a child, if he masqueraded in woman's clothes. He was too decidedly masculine.

Ascertaining his height's being well above average in the group of gentlemen before her eyes, Elizabeth smiled wryly as she remembered that from their first meeting, this aspect of Mr Darcy had been especially emphasised and admired by Mrs Bennet. For once her mother had been right. He was tall - with long legs and straight posture to help enforce that impression - and well built; she now knew his shoulders were wide even without the skillfully tailored frock-coat. He could never pass for a lady and, moreover, would probably look good in rags or even female attire, she mused, blushing faintly, he'd still seem fit and strong. At this stage her speculations again ran the risk of turning dangerously improper and since she found her aunt studying her pensively, she concluded that her preoccupation with her husband's appearance must come to an end.

Thenceforth, at first conversing with Mrs Gardiner and her old friend and later, joined by the gentlemen who drew nearer in order to introduce Mr Charte to the ladies, she managed to keep her wits about her by concentrating on the unfamiliar, but obliging, faces of people who came to congratulate them. Yes, she managed, although her handsome husband had returned to her side to unknowingly disconcert her with a brief, intense glance and the deep sound of his voice. For what was left of the intermission and the continuous social conversation she tried to disregarded his physical influence, but did her best to be of assistance to him by inserting niceties upon her general fondness of life in the country or, how she looked forward to seeing Pemberley again.

Elizabeth was completely occupied in such an exchange involving the various attractions of Derbyshire's peaks and valleys, when an injudicious young gentleman who had been hovering nearby accosted her husband. Visibly charmed by the bright-eyed Mrs Darcy and, with his reason most unfortunately dimmed by youthful thoughtlessness and one glass too many, the luckless youngster reckoned his having been once at billiards in the same company as Darcy justified a certain fraternal ease. Regrettably he allowed himself to be carried away beyond his better judgement, for he leaned in to deliver a low-voiced confidence near Darcy's ear.

"Can't say I blame you for removing your lovely bride from town, Mr Darcy. If I had acquired such a treasure, I'd be equally anxious to keep her to myself."

Although aware the man -- one of the young fops at White's -- was a notorious boor - no doubt due to his lacking maturity - and need not be under suspicion for intentional malevolence, such an unwarranted and insolent importunity was not the kind of comment Darcy cared to have from anyone, certainly not from a passing acquaintance. Hoping she had not taken notice, he edged closer to Elizabeth as if to protect her from liquor fumes and impertinent glances. His retort was subdued and anything but friendly.

"Perchance the blame pertaining to this matter is all yours, sir? I must insist that you exercise restraint by keeping such idle thoughts to yourself."

Unable at first to grasp the extent of his faux pas, the man delivered a stuttering reply. Darcy would not have Elizabeth notice and hence mastered his discomfort admirably, by transforming his feelings of abhorrence for this uncalled for familiarity into a measured, ostentatiously exhaustive comment on the evening's performance. His formidable expression and the icy tang of his voice were not lost. Muttering incoherently the fellow fell back with ears flaming, and dimly aware he had somehow fallen from grace, he bowed awkwardly and disappeared without further delay. Finally at liberty to act upon a wish of his, Darcy stepped near to Elizabeth and, placing her hand smoothly in the crook of his right arm proposed that they seek out the privacy of their box.

She was happy to comply, but they hadn't been long in enjoying the benefits of their select party when a knock at the door heralded the reappearance of their neighbours. Elizabeth had seen them across the hall but been too busy to do more than reciprocate their friendly nods and wide smiles. When his lordship stepped inside it turned out he had a footman with a tray in tow and, directing the man about, Lord Manning invited everyone to seize a high-stemmed glass as soon as a sparkling wine had been served.

"Since you are determined to shake the city dust off your feet so soon, and as we could not possibly see you leave without a proper toast and our sincere well wishes for the newlyweds, you leave us no alternative, Darcy. I know you are not too fond of attention, but some things just have to be performed, you know. It will fall upon you to soften him in this respect, my dear Mrs Darcy!"

Elizabeth returned his smile but, when about to speak, was anticipated by Lady Manning, who, benevolently swaying her ostrich feathers, underlined her husband's words.

"Oh, yes to all that has been said and don't you forget that I depend upon you to inform me, when next you mean to take residence in town. I want to be certain I have my guests of honour invited, before I even begin to plan a ball."

"A ball, Lady Manning? I had not thought.... Your kindness is quite overwhelming."

Elizabeth was so amazed she could not hide it and throw a glance towards her husband.

With unexpected ease, Darcy thanked the Mannings on behalf of his wife ñ looking somewhat protective as he sent her a fleeting smile - and himself, assuring them that whether in town or in Derbyshire, they would have time enough to get better acquainted with Mrs Darcy. Lady Manning seemed pleased by this reference to future invitations to Pemberley and Elizabeth admired the deftness of her husband's response.

To her consternation this usually animated lady was quite content to restrict her participation to a few concurring words. The last week had been strenuous in many ways and one obvious factor was lack of sleep. Elizabeth could feel herself getting increasingly tired as the nervous excitement eased and, although ashamed of her ingratitude, was rather relieved when the incipient music convinced their well-meaning neighbours that the time to leave had come.

Turning from saying goodbye near the box's door, she saw that Darcy had already offered the seats by the balustrade to the Gardiners. He was placing two armchairs closer to the back wall and, unwilling to interfere with the music, wordlessly motioning for her to sit next to him. Elizabeth sank down on the proffered chair and watched affectionately how Darcy took his seat by her side. Then, remembering her aunt's advice pertaining to wistful staring, she forced a glance towards the singers even as he leaned in to address her in a most eloquent whisper.

" May I conclude that you do not object to this rearrangement, madam? It is my decided preference to spend time near my wife. For most of this intermission, however, there has been a ...deplorable distance between us and I would wish to ...see that remedied. I hope you feel the same way?"

During his emotional declaration her gaze had shifted awkwardly from the stage, where the amorous complications continued, into his dark, eager eyes and finally down on the reticule in her lap. But she lifted her eyes to answer and her whisper was more delightful than the music of the orchestra to Darcy's ears.

"I...I do. Near is... good".

He pulled a deep breath and place his hand, palm open on his knee. Elizabeth was staring into his eyes as she surrendered to his plea. Curling his fingers gingerly around hers he made their united hands slip down between the chairs until they were safely hidden in the folds of her velvet dress.

It was a gentle grasp but to make her understand he was not about to let go, he applied a little pressure whenever she glanced at him. There were a few more twists to the plot, before the count would ask his wife's forgiveness and Mr Darcy could take his wife home.

A date for their next meeting had been previously agreed upon, when the invitation issued in Hertfordshire, for Mr and Mrs Gardiner to spend Christmas time at Pemberley, was repeated, accepted and confirmed in the drawing room at Portnam Square before dinner. Since their departure for Derbyshire was to take place as early as at the break of dawn, it had been decided that the Darcys were to head straight back to Portnam Place after the conclusion of the opera performance. Upon retiring from the theatre, the couples therefore took leave of one another indoors, and the ladies were grateful that the imminence of the upcoming reunion made the parting a good deal less emotional.

The weather proved once again to be capricious as, leaving the building for the awaiting carriages, they found themselves hurrying through a sparse snowfall. Elizabeth was however well protected, having arranged the wide hood of her fur-brimmed cloak to cover most of her head. Arrived safely under the shelter of the coach roof, she sank back on the seat and, even before her breath was altogether under control, turned to greet her husband with an exclamation.

"Such an enjoyable evening! "

She paused, watching Darcy as he climbed the step in her wake. Gathering the folds of her cloak about her, she made sure there was room for him by her side and accepted the protection of a woolen blanket from a footman.

"Is that your opinion as well, Mr Darcy? Did the whole of it answer your expectations?"

There was a puckish glimpse in her gaze when she looked up to seek her husband's eye. After some consideration she spoke again lowering her voice that he alone might hear her.

"I do hope my conduct was in no respect ... unguarded. That I did not -- allow me to use a phrase of some elegance -- rattle away. "

Elizabeth was not altogether serious, but rather talking away because she was so very happy to have him to herself again and desirous also to know his mind. Absent-mindedly brushing the snow from his hat, Darcy stilled for a moment ere he placed it on the seat opposite them. Recognising the expression as one frequently used by Mrs Bennet, his glance touched upon the face of his companion to establish her frame of mind. The obliging servant had disappeared from view but, for some reason, the door was left ajar. He would prefer it shut and was about to issue an order to that effect. Eager to forward her case Elizabeth resumed without awaiting his response.

"Although by now it seems I am in great danger of verbosity, I am sure, I've done my best all evening to restrain such tendencies. I trust, I did nothing to deserve censure, sir?"

Her query ended with a mischievous smile, but her husband suspected there might be a grain of the former anxiety to her voice. Even as he was about to speak, the neglected door was accounted for by a groom leaning in to place the last heated brick. The servant's sudden appearance made Darcy close his lips against the words of reassurance.

When at long last the door slammed shut behind the man, his master, who by every appearance had been contemplating the drifting snow outside the window, turned to give his delayed answer. He had not expected to be reduced to a state of further silence by the sweet sight of his wife. There was a vibrant quality to her beauty, enhanced by the arch eagerness in her voice and the brilliancy of her dark orbs. She's so full of life! He didn't even mind her tantalizing reference to his exacting former self. A smile of amused admiration warmed his voice once he retrieved it.

"I find myself as overwhelmed by your presence as by the complexity of your address, my dear Mrs Darcy. And although I have some doubt as to your being serious, I must strive to be equal to it and begin by agreeing with your opinion on the evening, so that's a decided yes. Then there's a no, quite the opposite! Your efforts, dearest, if indeed there were any, must have been prosperous, since there was no lady more graceful. Or, if there was, I saw her not."

The next moment saw Elizabeth in danger of losing her balance when the carriage moved off. The initial sound of surprise that escaped her turned into an appreciative little laugh.

"I believe you are teasing me, Mr Darcy!"

Her husband, who, still smiling, had reached out to steady her by a firm grasp of her arm, regarded her with unwavering warmth, but said nothing to agree with or contradict her statement. Elizabeth placed her hand briefly on top of his, which prompted him to look directly into her eyes and, quite fervently, clarify his opinion.

"There are few things I like better than to have you rattle away, Elizabeth."

Unbidden thoughts of things even more pleasurable, presented themselves as he sat mesmerized by her gaze and increasingly influenced by the softness of her velvet wrapped upper arm. With some reluctance he released his hold. Savouring the subtle caress of his fingers, Elizabeth saw no reason to disappoint such a gracious gentleman.

"Now I feel convinced you are mocking me. All the same, I'll not hesitate to keep up the rattling by confessing how very grateful I am that at least you saved me from 'rattling off' the seat. Thank you kindly, sir, I must have been unobservant. Am I justified in concluding then that we are both pleased by the performance? There certainly wasn't any rattling or clattering to put up with from the orchestra!"

Sending him another arch glance she reclined and her mien, changing with her thoughts, sobered into betraying a more reflective mood.

"Seriously, is not this opera like a well of music? A well overflowing with enchanting melodies... so many to admire. Tonight, again, I found the countess' aria especially beautiful. You know... dove sono*... la dolcezza.... It's so sad and emotional... Hard to resist. A song like that really tears at my heart."

Darcy had been watching his wife in a guarded manner, but quite attentively and listening with a meditative expression that mirrored hers. He feared his infatuated state might lend him the appearance of a fool and attempting to stay cool, had not so much considered the stage performance but rather his own. There was much to dim his rational mind as he was continuously the recipient of such confusing messages. This very minute his palm regretted the lost sensation of warm velvet. I had better keep talking.

"That song is delightful, I grant you and so was the voice of that singer. But you have me worried, madam. Am I to understand, your heart is torn?"

Try as he might, he was not able to keep his eyes off her. Her face, framed by the fluffy fur-brim was enchanting. To rival the sparkle in her eyes, the melting snowflakes had strewn glittering stars in the locks of hair that were visible in front of her hood. With a smile playing at the corners of her fresh lips, his wife appeared to be quite unaware of her irresistible effect upon him. Either way there was nothing for it, since he came under her spell whether she wished it or not. Fighting an impulse to pull her into his arms, he forced his lingering gaze from her mouth to look out the carriage window. Not that the starry flakes that spotted the grey pavement on Wardour Street had any cooling effect on him. Nor could they hope to defeat the impact of soft lavender-scented warmth next to him.

He turned back to consider the whole of her countenance. Fortified by the fact they would be home soon enough, he wondered whether - to some small extent - she shared his impatient wish for greater privacy. Inferring from a quick light at the bottom of her lively eyes, she had acknowledged his modest wordplay, but was evidently still occupied by her own reflections upon the human complications within the musical drama. There is certainly nothing artful about her.

"Torn? Well, yes, in a sense you could say that. As much as I admire the countess, I'd rather not be in her place. I'd be uneasy married to such a man.... He appears to be exceedingly jealous of her regard, which ought to be gratifying and yet ...even so, he is not to be trusted...."

Darcy's assessment had been correct, for his wife had been so far from calculation that only the last words were whispered, as she realised too late, what she was about to discuss. There you go, Lizzy! Rattling away, indeed! Perhaps infidelity is not a seemly topic for a newly wedded lady to introduce to her bridegroom. Not that mine appears to be paying undivided attention to my conversation. One minute looking out the window and the next even staring at my lips as if I made no sense at all! Perhaps he did not hear me?

But Darcy had heard and had been making comparisons. Surely Elizabeth could not doubt the sincerity of his affections? Was she not aware his love for her made his heart ache at the mere sight of her? Such were his thoughts as he kept staring at her beloved face until an unfamiliar sting forced him to blink. He watched the melting ice crystals in her hair, the tiny stars set with emeralds in her ears and her clear dark eyes tinted by uncertainty. She was irresistible, bewitching, looking as if she'd been suffused by stardust. She's strong in many respects, and yet there is this vulnerability. He answered her hoarsely.

"Indeed. What was he about? No man in his right mind would behave so. It is not honourable.... I find it hard to believe he truly loves his wife."

There was a strangely compelling quality to his voice. He seemed to be altogether in earnest now. Equally serious Elizabeth searched his face. She could no longer find the smallest evidence of his teasing her. Beguiled by the honesty of his countenance and the fiery glow of his gaze, she placed her hand on his woolen sleeve. The black coach rolled through the dimly lit streets of London towards home, while inside it Mrs Darcy proved spirited enough to act upon an impulse of her devotion, for she bent forward to brush the cool skin of her husband's chin with her lips. Darcy had longed for her proximity most of the evening and, as if this was the sign he had awaited, slipped his arm instantly about her waist to pull her closer. His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head in a movement, which gently prevented her mouth from abandoning his face. He tilted his head and the breath carrying his words swept her nose.

"Elizabeth....sweetest among wives. If you are determined to wreck whatever is left of my composure...."

His voice was even more altered, sounding strained when he pulled back a fraction. After freeing her head his hand brushed lightly beneath her ear and over the turn of her jaw. He raised the tip of her chin to make her meet his gaze and Elizabeth stared up into his face. His lips parted as if he was about to speak and a golden glint in his eye was accompanied by a deep sigh, when his fingers proceeded down her throat. Guided by its edge, he eased them under the soft brim of her cloak.

The delicious, feathery warmth of his fingertips lightly tracing her collarbones and the contrast to his cheek, which her lips had found to be still moist and chilled with melted snow, was alluring. She snuggled closer to him, light-heartedly disregarding not only Darcy's recently proven inadequacy of equanimity, but the notion of her own composure slipping away as well.

"Yes? What would happen if I am....?"

She was almost brusquely seized by the shoulders and pushed back for inspection. She looked up into his face sensing her arms turning powerless in his forceful grasp. His eyes crinkled in the most endearing manner. It made for an expression of curious tenderness, a fascinating blend with the concurrent black heat in them.

'Elizabeth! Bewitching, mischievous wife! You are .... very close to success. I ask permission to misbehave. I need to kiss you... desperately.'

Before she had time to answer, he dipped his head, and was briefly touching his lips to the corner of her mouth. As he eased back, his whisper was a warm stream against her cheek.

"Will you permit me to...?"

Elizabeth mustered what little strength she had left to tilt her head a little, willingly offering him access to her mouth. Seeing his request thus wordlessly acceded to, Darcy closed the short distance and kissed her with the accumulated hunger of the evening. While his lips caressed hers, his hands stroked down her arms and across her back pulling her close to his chest. Still holding her in his embrace, he sank back against the wall murmuring softly.

"Una bocca dolce....your mouth is truly a secret place for honey...."

Her tingling lips were warm, softened by his thorough ardour, and hearing his voice whispering in Italian affected her strangely. She knew that one kiss, however fervent, was not nearly enough and yet, it would have to do for now. How else were they supposed to arrive at Portnam Square in a dignified manner? What could she do to achieve that? Her regard for propriety seemed to be rapidly dissolving, as her body was only too pleased to be melting in his arms. In happy turmoil she caught at the nearest straw and managed a correction.

"Wrong opera! That's not an assessment by Figaro nor even Almaviva."

Darcy grinned down at her; warm hands were still stroking her back in a slow, pleasurable manner.

"I am aware of having resorted to the vocabulary of another rascal."

He looks too handsome when at ease. This will not do. My spine is weakening. Perhaps nonsense talk might offer a solution. Elizabeth steeled herself to think of other matters.

"Rascal is to put it mildly, a veritable rake if ever there was one."

His mirth faded on noticing her hesitation and a shadow --was that indignation? - passing over her face. He increased the distance between them to better study her countenance, as he assured her that establishing the personality of this Spanish womanizer, they were in agreement.

"He is a cruel character ... with an odd set of values. Soberly pondered upon, he seems altogether confused, but I have to concede one point of his. Quite astute really...if only for once, Don Giovanni. This: Vieni a consolar.... dolce piu; del miele*. "

But the melodious foreign words did not only induce him to sing their tenor seemed to soften his face as he pulled her back near his chest.

"Bacio veramente dolce, mi amore. How very apt! A soothing, truly delightful kiss, my love."

Fragments of the Spanish nobleman's beguiling canzonetta were hummed near her temple. Although her Italian was no matter to brag about, Elizabeth knew the lyrics well enough to tell her husband was adding words at his pleasure. Up till now the only place where she had known him to sing was in church, where, quite reasonably otherwise engaged, she had not paid that much attention to his voice.

Presently she had time to enjoy its rich timbre and, thanks to her unconventional position, the intriguing way it made his chest resonate. Her aim was to appear mirthful as she complimented him but, increasingly influenced by the warmth of his embrace, the honey poured into her ears and the memory of his ardour in kissing her, she did not feel at all confident. Quite the opposite actually, for not only was her spine weakened, she was aware of that alarming, melting sensation in the pit of her stomach and could not keep her voice steady.

"From what I hear, caro sposo, there's honey in your throat as well. You have got the voice of a...un trovatore galante."

The faltering note did not escape his keenly attuned senses. He felt unaccountably content to know his voice was pleasing to her ear, and to hear that she was affected by his attentions, for he valued every single evidence of her attachment. Uncharacteristically for a man of his reticent disposition, he would express his happiness and so kissed the locks of hair near her temple. With a helpless shiver Elizabeth felt his lips languidly sliding down the side of her face. I am being seduced... and it is wonderfully improper. Darcy was almost as unprepared to feel his beloved becoming limp in his arms since, bestowed in innocence, his caress had not been designed to lead her astray. But he had been carried away by her response and next Elizabeth was amazed to have him tease her with quite a roguish whisper.

"Why should that amaze you, sweet lady? We both know how I came about that delight. Should you wish for more of my serenading, madam, I'd be requiring another replenishment of honey."

Had Darcy been able to see it in the faint light of the coach's interior, her reaction would have delighted him for his bold innuendo made Elizabeth smile and blush. He could hear her shortened intake of breath, though and was sweetly influenced, sensing his heart race with stirred passion, but much as he would wish to, he did not really mean to reclaim her mouth. He dared not, for his inclination most assuredly was not of a kind that befitted the convenience of a coach and if they were to indulge in another embrace of that kind, he knew not how far his self-command would assist him. Elizabeth was quiet and somehow her silence helped him become sober.

He cleared his throat to inquire after her opinion on the performance and, since she suspected his motive, and was as filled with impressions, as she was eager to share them, Elizabeth did not hesitate to acknowledge its justification. She made an equally valiant effort at equanimity and they were thus able to keep a fairly respectable conversation going until the carriage came to a stop before the entrance at Number One, Portnam Square.

Nobody claiming to have a heart would object to the minor misbehaviour that interrupted this exchange of opinions. Would not a feathery kiss, timidly brushing his whisked cheek be overlooked? Whether the same would be true about a courageous hand venturing a brief discovery amongst the folds of a cloak might be a matter of less certainty.

From the countless times he had been in a vehicle taking the turn about the corner from Orchard street and then again rounding the tiny park of Portnam Square itself, Darcy, although assuredly too distracted to glance out, was able to tell they would very soon draw up in front of his house. Lifting his chin from the top of her head he eased back and informed his wife. The next minute the carriage was slowing down and came to a halt. Elizabeth straightened, aiming her perplexed, dark eyes at her husband as if to plead with him.

"So soon? May I ask the door be not yet opened, please?"

Darcy waved a dismissive hand at the footman who came into view. Elizabeth had requested a short period of time to recover from the daze they had been in, a respite while she retrieved her things and he was certainly anxious to see to her comfort. After handing her the reticule, which, for some reason, had slipped to the floor, he observed his wife with a smile wider than he was aware of. Wishing to avoid an appearance of foolishly feminine fiddling about Elizabeth tried her best to get ready and, with a vaguely exculpating smile, soon gave to understand she was. One glance at her husband soothed and reassured her though, for the expression on his countenance was tender and not at all impatient; she was now under his indulgent protection. Darcy grasped the door-handle.

"All set to descend then?"

His male pretence of composure notwithstanding, he was dazzled himself after the ride from the theatre in such delightful company. Opening the door upon Elizabeth's permission Darcy stepped down and, turning swiftly on his heel to forestall the footman, reached up. About to make a renewed attempt to perform his duty, the young servant came hastening along, but seeing his assistance made redundant and the master involved in a very private exchange with Mrs. Darcy, he sent a bewildered glance Bullock's way. The coachman shook his head warningly and indicated the seat next to him on the box. Reminded of the lodestar that ruled the staff of Darcy's household - Stay alert and prepared to serve, but never intrude! -the groom heeded this silent piece of advice.

Meanwhile Darcy had placed gloved hands at Elizabeth's waist and, encircling it firmly, swung her to the ground. She had not expected more than the offer of his habitual steadying hand but, although taken by surprise, instinctively took hold of his shoulders. Never before had he done such an informal thing in public. She was given little time to recover from the sensation, for even when she could feel the pavement under her toes, he didn't relinquish his grasp. Smiling down into her heated face he took a few elated steps, urging her to perform a little turn with him as if commencing to dance. His breath filtered through the fur brim of her hood, when he neared to whisper.

"It's so good to have you back home, sweet wife!"

Although she found such behaviour in her strict husband astonishing, Elizabeth, who was still warmed by the enchantment in the coach, had followed him smoothly. They came to a halt and when he released her, her hands slid down the front of his cloak. As she raised her eyes to meet his dark ones, something in them drove the blood to her cheeks and made her suddenly weakened arms drop to hang feebly by her sides. Beneath the gloves her palms were positively tingling and she could think of no appropriate answer but a nod and a whisper near his shoulder.

With lips still teased by the sensation of soft fur, he inclined his head to hear her better.

"Pardon me, madam?"

"I am.... It is good to be here as well, Mr. Darcy".

However tentative, her answer was clearly much appreciated. Seeing her emotions mirrored on his features, Elizabeth suspected her own longing to be in his embrace was perhaps not greater than her husband's wish to have her there. Because of their present location, she thought it wise to ease the cumbersome tension by avoiding his intense gaze. In an attempt to achieve that, her lowered eyes swept the thin cover of snow beneath their feet and she thought that even being aware of his stare was disquieting. Unexpected help was to be found on the pavement and, pointing to the ground, she laughed a little shakily. On the elsewhere pristine surface there was evidence of their impromptu dance. Distinct footprints, his larger ones and hers little more than half their size, patterned the flags.

"Look and behold how the imprint of your sole can accommodate mine! It seems my foot could be as good as hidden within yours."

As she spoke, the imaginative possibilities won her over and joy welled up to chase away the unease. Darcy watched her place a dainty boot, first next to a print made by him, and then, by moving her foot, within that same footstep to demonstrate the truth of her words. He had heard, also, her initially faltering voice grow steady and instead of applying a soothing note while answering, his aim became to impress her with a frightening countenance. He failed miserably, for he could not repress the smile that travelled with his gaze into her glittering eyes.

"Deducing from what is obvious to the impartial eye, some slender-limbed fairy is accompanied by a giant of sorts! Perhaps that fairy should be pitied? What if... that fearsome beast is about to abduct her! Probably possessed with atrocious plans, scheming to take her to some wretched den in the forest!"

Her smile told him she was delighted with his scenario, yet her response was very different from what he anticipated. Elizabeth looked back at him steadily and far from any superficial amusement, the gravity and warmth of her gaze made his next inhalation stay trapped in his throat, as he listened to her disarming objections.

"I think you may be right, sir. If only as far as regards the footprints. For what do we know of a fairy's innermost wishes? What if she is in favour of such prospects? Perhaps this fairy would not mind at all! It's by no means unlikely that beast would prove to have a warm, wonderful heart beneath his ragged exterior?"

Passion flared in his eyes as Darcy grasped her hand.

"By your calculation, I would be utterly but gratifyingly mistaken then? No abduction ahead, but an elopement on the best of terms? A generous and gracious fairy that. How fortunate her beast!"

From her captured hand in his, the blood seemed to pump up his arm at a dizzying pace. If he had not been made to realise his location, there is no telling what indiscretion might possibly have followed. As it was, he suddenly noted out of the corner of his eye, the entrance door wide open and the outline of his old butler against the light from within his hall. In a low voice he made her aware and the hand that would have been subjected to ardent kisses was tucked instead sedately under his arm.

"Our Fairy Queen had better beware of ogres. Especially should she happen upon one bewitched beyond reason by the stars in her dark eyes. But I see an exceedingly severe elf is come to your rescue, my fair Titania."

As he had intended, his quick-witted lady took immediate warning and, although the subject of her discourse was all but commonplace, her voice assumed a light conversational note.

"Somehow I can't possibly picture you a Bottom incarnation, sir. Now if it were Oberon... but his feet wouldn't be very big, would they."

He was ready, nay eager to adopt her frivolous manner.

"Come to think of it, there exists documented evidence to contradict any clever suppositions of ours. For we are told that ë... elves of hills with printless foot, do chase the Ebbing Neptune.'* So there you have it, my dear, if we are to trust the bard, there would be no prints at all, certainly not delicately small and elfish."

Wrinkles of laughter softened his countenance when his glances touched fondly upon her booted feet. Likewise amused Elizabeth widened her eyes deliberately as she spoke.

"What is this? I had not expected to find you such an expert on the characteristics of fairies, sir."

She was amazed to see a wide smile on his face when Darcy steered her towards the brightly lit stone stairs. He was obviously still under the influence of this uncommonly playful mood.

"Much as I would wish for your admiration, madam, I have to admit a shortcoming when it comes to these matters. My knowledge is very sadly limited, for I know next to nothing about the size of fairies' footwear. However ...if afforded the opportunity... I would be more than willing to learn."

Devotedly gazing at her husband's handsome face, Elizabeth saw not only the mischievous smile linger, she noticed also that the gleam of ardour was back in his eye and although their proximity to the servant worked to render him more cautious, it did not altogether silence him. She pulled the fur collar tightly together under her chin, but it was not the temperature that brought a shiver.

"What am I thinking! Pray forgive my irresponsible behaviour. I ought to have long since seen you protected from the night chill. Our first priority must be to proceed indoors, Mrs. Darcy."

Speaking under his breath he glanced meaningfully towards the wide-open entrance door.

"I dare any ogre to force his way past that incorruptible elf! Yet it is a challenge that has got to be faced. Madam, will you do me the honour?"

Elizabeth nodded happily and, collecting the folds of her gown allowed him to lead her up the wide steps. She thought Darcy seemed next to smug as, upon entering the house, he stunned his strict, elderly retainer.

"Evening, Hudson. I trust, you have experienced no hardships... guarding the gates, while we were gone?"

Added to the remarkable scene already acted out before his eyes, this address nearly made the old butler drop his chin, but years of training helped him recover.

"Good evening, Sir... Madam! Ehrm.... All's in good order, Mr. Darcy."

Upon receiving his master's hat and gloves, Hudson painstakingly concealed his amazement at the uncustomary levity of his address. First there had been the exhilarated promenade in the street with Mrs Darcy, the one he so unexpectedly had come to witness, and now this. Never expected to see the likes of it.

§§§

Alerted by the sound of carriage wheels from outside, Mr. Hudson had pulled on his coat and, straightening the stripes of his waistcoat, hurried from the servant's hall as was his habit. The anticipated doorknocker noise had been late in coming, however, and when he finally opened the front door of his own accord, he had been obliged to hold it ajar for several minutes. Baffled by the sight of Mr. Darcy strolling leisurely along the pavement making conversation, he had glanced towards the carriage just in time to see Thomas closing the carriage door and moving to climb back up next to Bullock. When their eyes met, a barely perceptible smile passed over Bullock's face.

The coachman had been with the family for almost as long as the butler had. Neither of them would ever consider a display of disrespect, but they were united by age and retainer status. There were times when, occasionally, they considered the young master's ń which was how they thought of the present Mr. Darcy ń progress and behaviour, and it was always with the mild indulgence of a man of maturity towards the younger generation. As of late they had exchanged some words pertaining to the unexpected transformation that was taking place before their eyes. Mr. Darcy had never been unkind, but his manners had not been easygoing. The gentlemen had agreed that the new Mrs. Darcy was likely to bring about changes other than those to do with the running of a household, which had long since been anticipated by Mrs. Tuddler.

Bullock's minuscule smile was reciprocated by Hudson's cautious shrug. Seeing the carriage taking off towards the stables, the butler muttered as he pulled the large door shut behind the couple. Who would have thought it? He was nearly dumbfounded and, while collecting the cloaks, hemmed to redirect his thoughts and produce a polite inquiry.

"I hope the musical performance was to your satisfaction, Mrs. Darcy?"

"Very much so, thank you, Hudson."

Elizabeth moved towards a marble-topped sideboard and fleetingly checked her appearance in the mirror above it. Relieved to detect no disclosing marks from the carriage ride, she smoothed the folds of her dress and walked hesitantly towards the stairs. Darcy, who had been clarifying matters concerning the preparation of their coach for next day's departure, cut short his instructions when he noticed and turned to join her in a few long strides. By means of a brief exchange regarding the prospects for more snow, and kindly expressed wishes for a good night, they parted from the butler and began their ascent.

Once the couple had turned their backs on him, Mr. Hudson was free to give full attention to his substantial bafflement as well as the dampened garments. He had every intention of doing so, but not until he had locked and bolted for the night. On his way to leave the entrance hall, he was brought to a halt by the sound of merry voices from above. Where he stood immobile, he made an involuntary grimace, which was within seconds followed by another shrug. About to dispose of his burden in the cloakroom the butler proceeded towards a side door, a look of utter puzzlement upon his face. He had thought to apprehend some very odd words ere the master and mistress disappeared from view at the top of the first flight of stairs, but they made no sense to him, so he could but blame his bad ear for failing him.

Chapter 14

What old Mr. Hudson would at first have been prepared to swear he heard young Mr. Darcy ask his wife was actually the very words, which forced Elizabeth to stifle a snort, before she was able to retaliate. They were arrived on the second floor, where the corridor opening up to the left lead to their apartments, when, dawdling just before he left the last step of the staircase, Darcy took care to pronounce his inquiry in a measured and rather dignified tone.

"Did I hear ragged? How am I to understand that, madam? Is it that you find my attire wanting?"

These unexpected words, in continuation of their happy outdoor banter, and his brows, rising in mock disapproval, tricked her into the aforementioned burst of mirth. Struggling for composure, she bit her lip, while her shyly admiring glances lingered on his well-fitting tailcoat and even, briefly, upon his fashionable black satin trousers.

"It is to be understood in the nicest way possible, I assure you. One might say, it was metaphorically spoken, dear sir. You must know, I don't find fault with my husband. "

Many things made Elizabeth adorable in Darcy's eyes, some more complex others not. He was certainly hard pressed to resist her, when she abused her lip with the relentless edge of a pearly tooth. Convinced that Mr. Hudson was far below, yet contemplating the possibility that some other soft-shoed domestic might notice, if he were to embrace his wife, he completed his ascension. The idea of nibbling that full lip was so very appealing and he was led on by a peculiar look in her eyes. Her last words constituted additional encouragement, so he had almost resolved to act upon his impulse, when a trace of mischief appeared on her countenance. Intrigued to know what she was about to say, he let the opportunity slip away.

"Or if ñ occasionally ñ there has been a reason for me to do so, it is all in the past and surely could not pertain to your appearance. Hardly ever did I happen upon you, when your apparel was not above reproach."

She looked him straight in the eye, seeking to confirm that their Hunsford encounter was ancient history and, from his somewhat abashed smile, knew she had persuaded his mind to jump to their chance meeting at Pemberley. She found it lovable that even now they were married, he could not disregard the fact that he had been anything but presentable, when she appeared, as if out of a dream of his, on his own turf. Recollections of how he had actually been receiving her in a thoroughly disheveled state brought the faintest shade of pink to his face and he cleared his throat as if preparing to speak.

She wasn't through teasing him, but confirmed in a voice mellowed by tender compassion and perhaps even by the memory of how irresistible her beloved husband looked divested of coat and waistcoat. Handsome she always thought him, but especially so when in his shirtsleeves.

"Whether it is strictly adhering to the dictates of sartorial fashion or a little less formal, I am not disposed to object to whichever attire you deem fit...."

Elizabeth's smile faded for she heard that there was unforeseen ambiguity in her words. Darcy looked gratified if a little surprised when she fell silent without finishing the sentence, but he still didn't speak, only smiled more widely and kept watching her attentively as they proceeded into the hallway. To preclude his uttering some distressing comment, Elizabeth contrived to add a few words in reference to the original jest. She hoped to find herself thus on safer ground.

"I confess, to being astonished by the existence of this supposedly inhospitable lair here in the heart of town. I would rather have presumed that it be located beneath the peaks somewhere in the wilderness?"

Her speculations were rewarded by another grin and a response where the desired effect of a furrowed brow and stern voice was again counteracted, this time foremost by the deepening of his dimple. Clearly her husband was not in the least opposed to talking piffle. Quite the contrary, he seemed unwarrantably happy to effectuate the warming of her cheeks, she had so unwisely invited.

"There is a deep one there as well. It is situated far from the madding crowd and, now I come to consider it, splendidly suited for keeping a fair maiden or, for that matter ... a maudlin fairy... imprisoned. The future of that poor creature in this untamed waste is bleak, to put it mildly."

Elizabeth thought he looked endearingly pleased with his piece of pretentious drivel. Next followed a cautiously flirtatious proposition which, although deviating from what had until quite recently been Darcy's habitual vocabulary, as well as being far from what Elizabeth had been accustomed to hear, was nevertheless appreciated and laughingly fended off in the oftentimes flippant manner of lovers' significant communion.

As has already been remarked upon, the butler understood little of the prelude to this exchange since, in his perception, it consisted of nothing but nonsense. But ought he not to be pardoned on account of this shortcoming? The whole of it was, after all, not intended for his ears, be they deaf or not, and Mr. Hudson had grasped neither more nor less, to be sure, than did Mr. Roget a little later, when he was left to puzzle over another fragment.

§§§§

Strolling along the hallway our couple was no more in a hurry now, than they had been on the street. Darcy could not recall a time when his heart had been as light. Not even after her acceptance had he felt such unclouded elation. How he loved having her beautiful eyes aimed at him. It was a joy to watch their deliberate fearfulness so artfully contradicted by a challenging sparkle of amusement, as Elizabeth gave him to understand that she was deeply shocked.

"Why, Mr. Darcy! Imprisoned? This is getting more sinister by the minute."

His smile was nothing short of besotted, as he made away with every pretence of beastly intention. Of course he knew she was not serious, but her hand looked vulnerable all the same, where it rested on his arm. An unexpected attack of protective instinct made him cover it with his own.

"Shall you mind very much to find yourself at my mercy in the north, sweetest Elizabeth?"

His deep voice was as good as a caress and Elizabeth relished the sound of it.

"I should think not."

Beneath the audible part of this conversation, posture, glances and gestures betrayed the existence of a forceful undercurrent of emotion. The prospect of Pemberley's greater privacy was incessantly present and their arrival there within the next couple of days was anticipated by both. Darcy, who had for many months cherished the idea of taking his beloved Elizabeth there, of watching her settle herself in his home, was unable to think of the near future without a smile. While Elizabeth who was to have a new home, her daily responsibilities considerably enlarged, new neighbours, another circle of acquaintances, in short, an altogether different situation in life, quite naturally regarded the upcoming change of scenery as an event to be apprehended with some trepidation also.

Whether she had unconsciously sought the comfort of his nearness or not, Elizabeth's next step brought her closer to Darcy so that her head came to brush affectionately against his upper arm. He slackened his pace and came to a halt. Looking down into her upturned face, he raised her hand to his lips.

"Elizabeth..."

His breath warmed the back of her hand, preparing it for the ensuing pressure of his lips, ever firmer, as he kissed it over again.

"Elizabeth."

He murmured her name between repeated caresses until she felt her skin must be glowing. It was as if he meant to brand the name into her flesh, she thought irrationally. Lifting her face to his heated gaze she found him staring down at her mouth. Surely he cannot be contemplating an intimate kiss here, in the hallway. If he is, I am not at all sure I would object. But rather than fulfilling her secret wish, he seemed to restrain himself, for he placed her cupped hand softly against his cheek.

"Elizabeth... beloved."

He eyed her tenderly and, turning his head to kiss it rubbed the sensitive skin of her palm.

Elizabeth was amazed that there could be so many ways for him to affect her. Although the kiss was what he intended and she anticipated, the added sensations of his teasing her hand with the slight stubble of his jaw was in no way inferior. She was floating away, about to be swallowed up by her emotions when, beyond his shoulder, she saw a housemaid coming up the servant's staircase with hot water on a wooden tray. For a brief instant their eyes met, then the girl lowered hers to stare at the towel-covered jugs. She looked frightened more than anything, Elizabeth thought, as she pulled back to warn Darcy with a pointed glance down the corridor. Her voice was low, but increasingly composed as she spoke.

"Seems I will be allowed evening toilet, before I am to be locked away."

Her withdrawal and the faint sound of steps had already sobered her companion and, before Elizabeth knew it, her hand was back on his arm. It had not been Darcy's habit to conduct any part of his private life in the public areas of the house. Reminded of the present situation by the housemaid, and amazed by his own behaviour, he made a wry mouth. Elizabeth thought him displeased by the encounter, but she was to learn differently, as he made no reference to the servant, but presented her with a subdued plea.

"Might I beg for a more gallant part in these complex fantasies? Would there not be need of a knight? One who is known to worship the maiden and will come to her aid gladly!"

The sparkle returned to Elizabeth's eyes as she listened to this amazing utterance from her continuously unpredictable husband. She hoped the warmth of her response would make him know her feelings.

" A woman would have to be foolish indeed if, offered the services of a knight, she were to decline. I am sure, I can't find it in my heart to disapprove of such a prospect."

By that time the maid had disappeared through the door to Elizabeth's dressing room and Darcy had escorted his wife to her chamber door, which was the door next to it. Inclining his head he sought her eyes with fervent eagerness.

"Your courtesy is treasured, my delightful dear. Yet the knight must make a temporary effort to leave you. Until later, madam."

She sent him a smile that came from deep within.

"Dear Fitzwilliam... sir."

Holding her gaze he retreated to stand outside his own rooms. Even pressing the door-handle, his reluctance to abandon her company was evident, for he spoke across the distance that separated them, without regard for whoever might overhear him.

"If ever you should find yourself trapped in a dungeon, Madam, a den or whatever..."

Both doors were being opened, emitting two bright bands of light into the dimly lit hallway.

"...You may be assured of my loyalty. I'll saddle up a white steed and hasten to your rescue..."

The sound of her happy, wordless response lingered, when she disappeared behind the shining oak-wood door and made him smile uncontrollably, as he stepped into his apartments.

§§§

The door to the master's bedchamber had been pulled open, thus permitting the valet to overhear the last words addressed by Mr. Darcy to his wife, ere they parted in the hallway. From what Roget heard, Mrs. Darcy's reply amounted principally to a quite contagious peal of laughter and he reflected that there was no use denying, she had brought more liveliness to the old house at Portnam Square. As if to prove the accuracy of his observations the master appeared in the doorway to his bedchamber with a remarkably cheerful salutation on his lips.

Evincing his usual commendable panache for numerous tasks, Roget set out to assist Mr. Darcy. He was removing wet footwear, replacing them with a pair of slippers, chatting amiably about the unpredictability of the weather and all the time racking his brain over those puzzling words. They make very little sense!

Distractedly partaking of the exchange with some muttered observations on the capricious nature of snow, Darcy soon felt his mind instilled with a foolish wish to observe the pavement outside his front door. He stood to leave the dressing room and walked softly across the carpet on slipper-clad feet. Simultaneously wriggling his arms he made valiant attempts to divest himself of his fine satin coat.

Left to witness this unorthodox behaviour, Roget pursed his lips disapprovingly. He was displeased already to see the damp soles of Mr. Darcy's evening shoes, as he put them away for polishing and took care to insert shoetrees, instead of making inordinate haste in offering his assistance to this unfamiliar incarnation of his once steady and imperturbable master. Capricious as the downpour! He might very likely tear the sleeves from that coat. Making no sense at all! Mr. Darcy usually does. Nevertheless he was ready in time to receive the discarded tailcoat. Thoughtfully pondering the wide shoulders of his enigmatic master Roget wrinkled up his forehead, before he left to hang the maltreated garment outside its wardrobe. ...or he used to do. To me that is! I'll have to check those seams later.

Darcy had taken up his stance by a window overlooking the square, where he ñ quite carelessly in Roget's opinion ñ began to undo the buttons of his elegant waistcoat. He was humming and seemed altogether distrait. In a state of alarmed disapproval Roget hurried back again to preserve the precious silken garment lest it be tossed upon the nearest chair. As he placed it prudently over his arm, he found himself favoured with an aggravating smile.

The fact that Darcy's valet seldom shared his information with the rest of the staff, was no indication of disinterest. His insufficient loquacity was not because he did not observe and reflect. He would barely have been human, if he had not taken an interest in his master's affairs and the recent change occasioned by Mr Darcy's betrothal and marriage could indeed have greater bearing upon the day to day existence of very few.

At present, Roget was irritated but powerless, constrained to witness the unsettled manner in which his master preferred to pace the carpets instead of performing his habitual evening toilet properly, within the walls of his dressing room. He concluded that such mutability must be due to the altered circumstances for, disturbing though he might find it, he was certainly aware that Mr. Darcy was in excellent, if perhaps a trifle restless, mood. He believed that this recurrent tendency to humming ñ appearing quite frequently of late - must be a sign of his master's being enamoured and, recognising the present melody as a striking one from the theatre, suddenly referred to it in an awkward endeavour to re-establish their connection.

"Would that be a tune from tonight's opera, sir?"

No sooner had he uttered this, than the words seemed to him to be hanging in the air, louder and more forward than had ever been intended. Roget was appalled and would have bitten his tongue to have them unspoken. This deviation from the areas normally regarded as his province, such as matters of Mr. Darcy's attire, well-being and health, or instructions of his to be forwarded to other members of the staff, was actually rather bold. Speaking thus he deliberately risked a reprimand on impertinence, but was driven by the impalpable vexation and unease that had been nagging at him for some time.

Inattentively tugging at his intricately tied knot - and thereby severely defeating the object - Darcy turned to ponder over his valet.

"What? Ohh, I see...well, not really. It is one by Mozart though."

He lacked the incentive to supply Roget with any more detailed information on something so intimately connected with the magic, honey-scented moments in the carriage. Now made aware he had been singing, the lyrics immediately came to mind and, in a most befitting way, supplemented his audible tribute. Lasciati almen veder, mio bell'amore! *. He sent a quick glance towards the wallpaper-covered door. Could I go there now? To her...do some more serenading?

There was a compelling urge to join her without delay. As soon as he closed his eyes, one lovely memory succeeded the other in his head: Her sweet devoted face in the coach, the warmth of her breath on his skin and, most vividly, her tantalizing laughter in the hallway... Loveliest Elizabeth. I would wish you back in my arms.... The knowledge of her proximity made the fulfilling of his wishes seem far too easily achieved. His brow furrowed. No, 'tis too soon. Better leave her time to....

In a futile attempt to redirect his attention, he sought another aim for his gaze and, in the process, caught a glimpse of his wistful face in a mirror. Immediately lowering his eyes he tore forcefully at his cravat. How would that look, with her maid still in attendance? I'd make a fine figure! I've got to be patient... a little longer.

Roget could be heard moving about in the dressing room, which was where Darcy, seized by determination, strode to join him. Abruptly he made for a chair and, resolved to curb his impatience by exercising a minor penitence, sank down into it on a long exhalation.

"I say, Roget. Give me a hand with this one, there's a good man."

His arms dropped as he allowed his valet to loosen and unwind the neck-cloth. Like any true gentleman's gentleman Roget was always pleased to perform the duties pertaining to the care of his master. Darcy was sometimes disturbed by this excessive devotion to duty and his request for assistance tonight was designed to be a kindness. The subtle frown on Roget's face indicated that he wasn't as grateful as his master had presumed he would be and, now vaguely aware of some disruption of the mental atmosphere, Darcy summoned his wits to offer another piece of palatable communication.

" You outdid yourself tonight, Roget! I received more than one compliment on the crisp fluffiness of your creation. The errm..."Wayward Butterfly" was it?"

With his clever combination of praise and joke Darcy managed to smooth out Roget's brow. The flicker of pride passing over the man's face was superseded by a smile tugging at the corners of his reluctant mouth.

"Rally, Mr. Darcy! Wayward!"

He ran his hand gently along the limp, silken cloth.

"A modified variety of 'The Mathematical'... as I am positive, you must know."

Something was obviously still bothering the man.

"You are very kind to mention its being satisfactory, sir ... and I am certainly pleased to hear it. But...."

Darcy noticed that same wrinkle back again between his valet's eyebrows.

"Yes, Roget?"

"Didn't seem to last the evening though."

Eyeing the crumpled remnants of the once invincible knot and, realising what had likely ruined it, Darcy could not prevent a brief smile from lighting his eyes. How exceedingly fortunate that the unbuttoning of his cuffs should provide a perfect reason for him to hide his lovelorn countenance. Of course there was no question of his humoring the valet with that kind of information, but he could quite easily provide a plausible comfort.

" Most of it, I would surmise. There's no need to worry about your reputation, Roget. I am fairly positive, it was dampened by snow, and if so, not until we were leaving the theatre."

Once more overcome by delightful memories he escaped by pulling the shirt over his head. Breathing her name blissfully into the soft linen he accomplished a prolonging of the procedure, so that his face reappeared wearing nothing more revealing than a boyish grin. He slumped back in his chair and raised an arm to practically hurl the shirt at his valet. With astonishment written upon his face, Roget stretched to manage the catch but, disposing of the linen garment, had time to appreciate the consideration of that last remark. He endeavoured to show it.

" I pray you are right, sir. That would be a relief. "

But he did not look altogether pleased, when he applied himself to the pouring and tempering of water from two porcelain jugs. After laying out towels and placing a bar of sandalwood soap near the silver washbasin, Roget was about to walk past the chair where Darcy sat slouched, inactive and half-dressed. His master was wearing that same abstracted look and, quelling a wish to roll his eyes, Roget crouched down to undo the buttons at the knees, only to have yet another oversight strike his observant eye.

"Allow me to take your watch."

Upon receiving the golden pocket watch from his master's hand, he stood fleetingly and took a turn to place it on top of the chest of drawers.

"I fear, the water will soon turn cold, sir. "

With that discreet reminder he disappeared to draw the curtains and ready the bed, while Darcy stood with exceptional amenability to undo the waistband of his breeches. The despondency on Roget's face had quite escaped his notice when, content to know he had made an effort, he let the satin garment slip to his knees and his mind to matters more dear to his heart. Balancing on one foot at a time, he eased his legs free and unknowingly resumed the humming with renewed fervour.

Roget was back to collect the last items of clothing as, positioned on a large towel, Mr Darcy began to splash water vigorously over his face and body. The valet paused momentarily in the doorway to observe his employer. He knew not how to explain the fact that there was something oddly discouraging about the drops of water trickling merrily down that muscular back and the perseverance of that carefree, melodious humming. Folding the trousers and adding the linen to an increasing heap of laundry, Roget deeply resented feeling left out. Once again he spoke without thought ñ something he rarely did.

"Should I prepare the shaving tools, sir?"

He had barely spoken, when he recollected that he had performed this particular service when Mr. Darcy was readying himself for dinner.

The muted answer from behind a towel betrayed that Mr. Darcy didn't even care to comment upon this mistake. If indeed he did remember or gave the matter any serious afterthought.

"No, no, 'tis too late. On the morrow will have to do."

For a brief moment Roget wondered if perhaps this might mean, his master intended to spend the night on his own. Yet he knew, there was little else to nourish that supposition. He has been staring out the windows or glancing at that door since he came here.

Muttering to himself the valet concluded that Mr Darcy seemed to care nothing for his appearance these days. Walking the streets in his evening-shoes, allowing an exquisite cravat to deteriorate into a slovenly neck-cloth and now he's about to appear before a lady with a most unfortunate shadow on his chin. Considering the evidence before his eyes, as soap and water were put to good use, he knew that his misgivings were grossly exaggerated, but, far from bent on being reasonable, he was struggling with the vexation of the recent puzzlement.

Somehow the bond between his employer and himself was not what it used to be. He would like some reassurance that, even altered and adjusted to the change of prerequisites, it was still there.

Roget was not immune to feminine charms; he was aware that Mrs. Darcy was very pretty and quite charming. He had yet to fall in love, however, and having been under no woman's spell but that of his mother, he still considered any male bonds to be of superior import.

So he did acknowledge the benefits of a matrimonial alliance based on mutual affection, but was not at all equipped to grasp the upheaval that had occurred in Mr. Darcy's existence. To him the procuring of a wife didn't seem to be a matter of such vast significance, nothing that would make him fully realise the revolutionary nature of his master's altered circumstances. Due to the fact that he had so recently returned in Mr. Darcy's service, he was only slowly beginning to suspect what had taken place.

In the past he had prided himself on being the person more attuned to Mr. Darcy's general frame of mind and shifting moods than any other living soul. Now he had been obliged to realise that he was no longer as likely to be trusted with the master's musings. As was anew proved this evening, Mrs. Darcy had become the obvious recipient of Mr. Darcy's thoughts and sallies.

On this occasion Roget had heard no more than the end of a sentence and was quite unable to make head or tail of it, although he knew for a fact that he distinctly discerned something about a rescue... but from a ...den was it?... of all places! Whatever could that imply? Roget found this wording singular indeed and was rather annoyed when, forced to admit defeat, he concluded that it had to be part of some educated joke and quite beyond his comprehension.

All in all this might provide further proof, should such a thing be needed, that the language of love ñ however appropriate and sweetly filled with meaning to those for whom it comes naturally ñ is altogether unintelligible, even ridiculous ñ to those who inhabit the world outside their glowing sphere.

By sober calculation no more than three-quarters of an hour had gone by since Mr Darcy last saw his wife. But it seemed to him as if he had been enjoined to endure an eternity of civilised and cultivated conduct. Every task involved in the process of evening toilet - ablutions, grooming and donning his night-clothes - had been deliberately prolonged. All the same he could not but regret every minute that went by and kept him from Elizabeth.

He had learnt a few less agreeable things about women from experiences over the years, especially since his friendship had necessitated for him to stay in the same house as Bingley's sisters. Lending assistance to his young comrade by guiding him along in the initial steps as manager of an estate had meant a prolonged familiarity with the ladies, not merely during their yearly summer visit to Pemberley, but also for many weeks at Netherfield Park.

§§§§

Moreover, his rogue of a cousin had recently warned him that women needed an inordinate amount of time to change from one outfit into another. The colonel had not spared Darcy when he subjected him to what he labelled `an officer's random words of wisdom' on a late evening during billiards at Netherfield.

It was the day of Fitzwilliam's arrival, a few days before the nuptials, and the remaining guests were due the next morning. Darcy and Bingley were back from an evening at Longbourn and, realising that as bachelors it was probably their last opportunity for exclusively male company, they had lingered, when Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst had long since withdrawn.

Thanks to Faucet's commendable zeal - and Bingley's hospitality - they had access to an assortment of fortifying and comforting beverages but, contrary to Mr Hurst, Darcy soon knew himself to be vastly more grateful that Bingley was present to share the vulnerability of their predicament'.

If one were to believe Colonel Fitzwilliam ń and what judicious cause could there possibly be to distrust the younger son of the earl of Matlock - there was no other way of regarding their present situation in life than by assigning it his rakish appellation `predicament'. Bingley and Darcy were informed in the most sinister of voices that they must be considered two besotted fools on the brink of matrimony and that though it pained him to inform them, they had no idea where they were headed.

As had no doubt been mischievously intended, Darcy was somewhat affronted by this assessment, whereas Bingley's good-natured way of dealing with life again proved superior. Under these happy circumstances he did not mind being laughed at. Darcy had engaged in verbal sparring with his cousin since boyhood, when his being of a more serious disposition in cohort with a fiery temperament, had quite often left him at a disadvantage. Even if he was no longer such an easy victim, Fitzwilliam was still far too well acquainted with his weaker points.

There had been a difference though. Darcy found that he was by now far better equipped to escape the defeat of a ruffled temper. He had a secret weapon to keep him safe. His happiness provided a shield, against which all provocative remarks must bounce off, rendered as good as harmless. When an infernal joke of his tormentor's, based on such formerly intimidating expressions as `leg-shackled' and `henpecked' was only impassively shrugged off, Darcy thought to have observed a glimmer of surprise in the colonel's eye. In a mildly triumphant mood he exchanged a glance of secret understanding with Bingley.

Anyhow, the concept of time had turned out to be a subject on which the affianced gentlemen were to endure a lecture. They were strongly advised to disregard their former notions of `soon` and `now` and even such accurate commitments as `in five minutes` or `in half an hour`. Had they perchance thought that `presently` might mean something was due to take place `any minute`? If so, he knew it to be his duty to inform them that to a female mind it was hardly ever meant to imply anything but `in a little while`. Trained in logic as he believed them both to be, they could probably see the hazardous implications of the `hardly ever` concept here?

Excited by his own eloquence and, due to exhaustion after two days on the roads, especially susceptible to Bingley's cognac, Fitzwilliam was about to make a detour on the absurdity of considering a connection between ladies and any form of logical reasoning. But, alerted by chivalrous instincts, the indignant bridegrooms-to-be, who each held a most precious lady in the highest regard, cornered him and forced him to take a seat next to Mr Hurst on the sofa. That gentleman actually abandoned his relaxed position and sat up, one might even say sort of straight, to readily hand this teller of inopportune truths a generous offering of liqueur. The facial expressions of his disciples convinced the colonel he had better take a large gulp rather than indulge in further perilous speculations.

But even though Darcy's uncommonly moderate reaction to the attacks had taken his old adversary by surprise, Fitzwilliam did not keep his silence for long. It seemed the long hours in the coach and the inadequate amount of rest ń he had left Matlock the previous day ń had clouded his judgement. When it was his turn at the billiard table, he took up a slightly unstable position near it, preparing the strike, but he was so `preoccupied' that he missed a fairly simple ball. Rapping his leg with the cue he cleared his throat to ask their attention in a peremptory tone of voice. While on the subject of measurement, he felt compelled to add that `little` was an altogether inexact measure and certainly no less so in any connection with women and time.

Warily observed by the betrothed ń and besotted - gentlemen, Colonel Fitzwilliam was granted one final pronouncement and he informed them that judging from his extensive experience, there were few women who even acknowledged the superiority of a watch over their own perception. He proclaimed, exuberantly swinging his cue so near a wall sconce that Darcy had to temporarily disarm him, that most ladies, if challenged on the subject, would argue the existence of a parallel chronology where every minute was at least twice as long. The preposterous nature of this final assault had the four of them, even Darcy, roaring with laughter.

§§§§

Darcy smiled fondly at the memory, for he loved his merry cousin dearly and had not had reason to fear Elizabeth was one of those ladies, but he was turning impatient. He could not blame her, however; his was an inexorable, partly self-inflicted, plight, and utterly absurd for there was no fixed time for their reunion. He made yet another attempt to assimilate the gist of a most comprehensive missive from his steward, but was unable to concentrate on the letter in his hands. Alerted by a reference to the pruning of plum trees his thoughts leapt uncontrollably from Mc Nab's detailed report to the final garden scene in the evening's opera. From the reunited married couple on stage, it was a matter of course to consider his own happiness and hence the trailing tendrils on Elizabeth's door.

When his tolerance seemed to be nearly at an end, he saw fit to dismiss Roget, who, in his master's opinion, had been annoyingly busy in the dressing room. Since this was no different from his feelings on the matter yesterday, he wondered fleetingly whether his marriage might perhaps necessitate a few permanent changes in Roget's evening schedule. Such a thought could but widen the smile on his face and he paid no attention to the minute frown upon his valet's forehead. He returned Roget's measured wish for a good night's rest rather more cheerily than was his habit.

On his own at last, he heaved a sigh of relief and anticipation and without pretence strode towards the magic door to place his hand purposefully on its golden doorknob.

He pushed it open, his mind absorbed in agreeable visions, variations of the state in which he might happen upon his beloved, until, passing over the doorstep, he found himself in Elizabeth's empty and sparingly lit bedchamber. This was when he realised, he had failed to knock. Pulling a slow breath, he closed the door carefully and surveyed the premises. She was nowhere to be seen, but the familiar, balmy note of lavender called forth a rather sheepish smile. He registered that apart from the fire crackling on the hearth, the only light came seeping out with the breeze of perfume from the dressing room, the door of which stood ajar. So that's where she is hidden!

Not sure whether he should step boldly across the floor to invade the feminine refuge or, if he had better retire to his own territory, Darcy hesitated near the door from his apartment. Distractedly considering the bright streak on the moss-green carpet, he was shamelessly pricking up his ears to catch the subdued voices and fascinating sounds emerging from within that scented source of light and warmth.

Notwithstanding his efforts to the contrary, he feared that his eagerness would make him appear a fool of sorts, as here he was, secretly intruding before she had readied herself for bed.

As he stood there dawdling, warily reconnoitring, his eyes inevitably happened upon the bed, where last night had elapsed in such utter bliss. Somehow that sight, reminding him of his newly acquired situation in life, convinced him also of his right to stay near his wife, and so, without further ado, satisfied by a nascent feeling of possessiveness, he crossed the room to the nearest window.

The curtains had obviously been drawn against the night chill, but he clutched a portion of the heavy velvet, and held it aside to procure a view for himself. The thus accomplished gap was wide enough for him to observe the thickening fall of snow over Portnam Square. On an impulse he craned his neck to search the pavement in front of his house, but in vain. The dainty footprints of his fairy had been obliterated and he relapsed into reflection contemplating the tumbling flakes. No, not really erased. Just concealed beneath that pristine veil of snow. They were safely hidden within his heart as well, imprinted on his memory of this first day of matrimony. This is happiness! Sweet Elizabeth. The soft fabric was very smooth in his grasp and he eased his hold to let his cupped palm slide down the curtain's thick front edge and then slowly up again. Unconsciously delighted by its weight and the subtle resistance of the velvet nap, he stared out into the peaceful night.

Simultaneously, the sound of murmuring voices in the adjoining room intensified and seemed to betray an amount of agitation. He was reminded of his awkwardness as a husband trespassing upon feminine premises. Ought he to announce his presence in a more straightforward fashion?

Darcy was considered a self-assured gentleman and with good reason. He knew how to behave in society, how to make himself agreeable even, if he chose to, and how to deal graciously with his family and friends, acquaintances and tenants. He had lived in the world, would be no less confident addressing a courtier than a landlord and, on the whole, was not used to feeling impeded. But he had not been happily in love for long and married even shorter; the accommodating behaviour to be desired in a husband and lover when visiting his wife's bedchamber was not one in which he excelled. Before he could decide on any sensible action, a most beloved voice reached his ears.

“Is that you, Mr. Darcy?”

Straightening and tracing with his eyes the obscure outline of the treetops, which would soon be completely covered in white, he endeavoured to temper the excitement caused by that much longed-for sound. He responded to her inquiry with what he hoped would appear to be casual ease.

“Er...Yes, but I am perfectly comfortable, madam. Please, take your time.”

Embarrassingly his voice sounded harsh and strained, and while his gaze dropped to the billowy, silvery softness beneath the trees, the utterance rang in his head, each word more stupid and ill chosen than the next. `Comfortable'! `Please'! `Take your time'! It all sounded insufferably highhanded. What would she think? How came his speech to be so stilted? His throat felt dry and he was inclined to blame his idiocy on the fact that a third person was present to overhear their exchange.

He had been surrounded by servants, devoted to the task of facilitating his existence, since the days of his childhood. Nevertheless, he had always felt the need to dismiss them, or at least await the time of their quitting the room, before sharing moments of private confidence with his immediate family and close friends.

He knew for a fact that this inclination was decidedly more pronounced where Elizabeth was concerned. His emotions had certainly never been so deeply engaged before and he shied from exposing his innermost being to anyone but her. Elizabeth! I implore you. Dispose of that maid as soon as may be!

Her voice was heard again, amazingly, as if she was able to guess his thoughts. Indeed, one might think she had heard him.

“We'll be done shortly. I will only be a minute, sir. “

Her words were muted and succeeded by a suite of disparate and captivating sounds: the clatter of something - a hairbrush?- on the table, the purl of dripping water, her subdued laughter ń brief, but instantly racing his pulses - the leg of a chair scraping the floor boards, hurried footsteps, a door firmly pushed shut and finally the soft swishing of fabric and slipper-clad feet approaching. Allowing the curtain to fall back and wipe out the frozen shrubbery from his eyes, he locked his hands behind his back. The ensuing silence and some indefinable sensation induced him to turn deliberately on his heels and be met by an enchanting sight.

Elizabeth stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the lit rectangle of the opening. Although her features were partly hidden in shadow, he could tell she was looking his way. He searched for her eyes and when their expression eluded him, shifted his attention to what he could see. A simple ribbon held back the dark masses of hair from her forehead and shoulders. Yet loosening tresses, striving to escape the confinement of blue silk, surrounded her face. Yes, this is happiness. I am the one allowed to see this loveliness.

Without permission his gaze slid down her form. Her night-gown was made up in some gauzy fabric and unbeknownst to his ingenuous beloved, but for the tender admiration of a disarmed husband as well as the wolfish benefit of a bewitched lover, the candle light from within the dressing room worked subtle magic with vaguely outlined curves.

Darcy swallowed hard and made a vain attempt to put words together effortlessly.

“There you...erm... are, my dear.”

He could not believe that croaking originated from him and attempted to softly clear his throat. His wife was not yet so encumbered. If Darcy's outlook could be described as narrow, hers was even more limited for passing from the well-lit dressing room, her bedchamber appeared to be swept in darkness and the tall form by the window was barely distinguishable against the velvet drapery. Very happy to be reunited with him, Elizabeth did not guess the reason for her husband's afflicted voice.

“Yes, here I am at last ...and very sorry to have kept you waiting, Fitzwilliam!”

She was approaching him and as soon as he could discern her face clearly, he saw such a sweet smile aimed at him as to make more gentle instincts temper his ardour. Her use of his Christian name made him aware that her maid had left them, but the tenderness that suffused his heart helped to curb his recently stirred passion enough that he was able to address her politely, if a little stiffly.

“No, no, it is entirely my fault. I trust you were not accommodating me by any undue haste! I would not wish to inconvenience you. “

Elizabeth made to fend off his apprehensions and was about to reassure him when, struck by their mutual awkwardness, she swallowed her words and, smiling mischievously, phrased her answer rather differently.

“Yes, dear sir, it is a sad business. Due to insufferable haste, you see before you a most slovenly wife and it is even sadder to think that it is all your own doing...”

She had not spoken more than the first sentence before Darcy, who had already acknowledged the uncalled for formality in himself and thought the entire situation a trifle absurd, caught that cherished spark in her eye and acted upon it. Having closed the remaining distance in a few strides, he grasped her hands and raised them to his lips. After kissing her fingers with what could, with good reason, be called reverence, he made a humble admittance.

“It would seem I am prone to expose myself to ridicule when in your presence.”

But a soft chuckle showed him to be far from devastated in delivering his confession. Elizabeth held on to his fingers. She admired the ruffles falling lightly about his wrists, creamy against the slightly tanned skin of his hands and realised that once his dressing gown came off, he would not be in his shirtsleeves. He is wearing a nightshirt under his robe. The implications of that thought were enough to warm her face as she proceeded to ensure that he was altogether comfortable.

“In doing so you appear to me thoroughly courteous and endearing, sir. And I'll not let you take all the blame. I can be accused of simply prattling away. Besides, I'll have you know, we would likely have been finished well before your arrival, had I not been fiddling instead of allowing that entirely able girl to do her work.”

Darcy admired the animation on Elizabeth's face as she spoke, the enticingly soft lips forming words of self-criticism and the lashes either framing her clear eyes or, downcast, providing an exquisite shadow against the blush on her cheeks. It was a sight that gave more joy to his loving heart and what she said, made him feel as if it might burst with emotion. She's been enduring some nervous anticipation too... expecting me, I gather!

“You are too gracious by far, my dearest. I am aware my manners tend towards rigidity. Surely it is out of place to stand on ceremony here...Whereas your warmth and frankness... I can find...There can be nothing to ridicule in such sweetness of mind...”

Elizabeth had felt him studying her with the penetrative eye that she once thought to be critical. She knew better now and, feeling the timbre of his deep voice resonating through her being, could not think of a sensible reply. All she managed was a murmur.

“You are very kind....”

The sincerity and warmth of his words, as well as the regard in his eyes and the heightened colour on his face had left Elizabeth emotionally touched. Basing her giddy conclusion on the manner in which his flush was even now spreading and subtly tingeing the neck beneath his strong jaw, she deduced that her husband must also be subjected to some amount of emotional turmoil.

The evidence of such sensibility existing beneath his surface of masculine composure attracted her immensely and affected her physically. Those delicate ruffles on his collar leave most of his neck exposed. If only he would put his arms about me. She would have preferred to do without words but although her hands were so pleasurably enclosed in his, still hesitated to take an initiative. I would kiss the skin near those beguiling ruffles or stand on tiptoe and breathe life onto his beautiful, ceremonial lips. Abandoning these fantasies for the time being she smiled tentatively instead and, having surveyed her chamber, filled up the threatening silence with the first words that came to mind.

“I see there's wine on the table as usual...”

Recollections of where the wine had taken them the night before made her think of his mouth. She glanced up at him to gauge his reaction and at the same time took care to avoid staring at his lips. His dark eyes were intent upon her, warm, but unreadable. He was smiling and when she found herself shyly considering the fine wrinkles of laughter near the corners of his mouth, she tried to think it was only because she was so eagerly awaiting his response.

Inevitably affected by her proximity, but in such a way that his delight infinitely outweighed the unease, and much inclined to achieve what his wife, unbeknownst to him, was conjuring, Darcy had been considering by turns her uncommonly beautiful eyes and their joined hands and deliberating different scenarios. Interrupted by her unexpected words he looked up and, after a glance towards the fireplace, almost mechanically led her by the hand over to the settee. Elizabeth knew her mixed reaction was uncalled for, as she had mentioned the tray herself, but inexplicably she experienced foolish disappointment and gratitude at the same time; the latter because she could do with a seat to take the load off her unsteady knees.

The support of a warm hand enfolding hers and the relative novelty of his presence in so informal a setting still proved overwhelming. Testifying to her preoccupation it was not until she was about to sink down that she came to acknowledge the scarcity of light in the room. To her already bewildered husband her next exclamation turned out to be as surprising as the one preceding it; perhaps even more so since she paused repeatedly, as if addressing herself rather than him.

"Oh dear, I was precipitate... in sending the girl away, before she had time ... to see to the candles."

With an almost shy squeeze of his hand before she let go of it, Elizabeth was already on her way towards the dressing room and hence the end of the sentence was lost to him. How then was Mr Darcy to conclude that his impulsive wife had left in order to collect a candelabra she knew to be sitting on her dressing table? He remained, assuming Elizabeth's errand to be of a private nature. Some female concern... or even a whim. Is she about to send for her maid? I sincerely hope not.... An unbidden sigh heaved his chest and his eyes lingered on the door-way where the billowy, floating fabric of her nightdress had disappeared. Seems I am reduced to a gawky adorer. And a clueless one at that...

As was to be expected in a man with his upbringing and education Darcy was well-informed as well as clever and, up until quite recently, used to having most matters under control. With Elizabeth by his side, a new element of unpredictability had been introduced in his life. He did not dislike that and, rather than an unpleasantness, looked upon it as an invigorating challenge. In this instance, however, he had to admit defeat, but was being rather harsh on himself, for how indeed was he supposed to guess?

He stood immobile and slightly mystified, silently concentrating on keeping his meandering thoughts under some semblance of regulation and to that end, upbraiding himself that he had better not indulge his glowing appreciation of Elizabeth's female beauty for any length of time. Not yet. She was lovely, so sumptuous, most seductive... She was his wife, his to admire, yes, but....

Last night they had been closer than ever before, in more ways than the obvious, and today, that first reception of guests in their fellow home had strengthened the growing bond. Furthermore the shared enjoyment of music with the ensuing emotions evoked during the evening at the opera exceeded his every anticipation. Now he was once again in her bedroom, secure from every prying eye, and yet some hesitation lingered.

Even if they were not back to the insecurity of the night before, they were not thoroughly at ease; he certainly was not. He was not sure how to accomplish smoothly the leap from public to private and even less so that from private to passionately intimate, not altogether confident in handling this newly instigated, frail intimacy. He hesitated to pursue his own heated impulses, thinking an honest attempt to ascertain and then comply with Elizabeth's preferences might prove wiser. What is her wish, I wonder?

When Darcy was arrived that far in his contemplation, his wife turned up in the door and, to his utter consternation, she was manoeuvring a huge and much too heavy candelabra. To make matters worse the candles were alight! The outlandish sight made him realise there had been a misunderstanding and he hurried to take the precarious burden from her with a remorseful apology. Her relief as she thanked him was apparent and, after a short hesitation, she spoke again to ask for his further assistance.

"It was actually heavier than I had imagined. I was fooled, likely because it is so gracefully wrought. There is yet another in there and I'm not sure whether it could be of use or ought simply to be put out ... Would you be so kind as to ...?

"I most certainly would."

Having disposed of the substantial silver piece on the table, Darcy addressed her with an expression of earnest concern. Initially it was done to elaborate on his pardon and after that, to as good as berate her for even attempting such an enterprise while he was present to be of service to her. Acting accordingly, he obeyed her suggestion and, upon entering the sanctuary of her dressing room, looked about him with no small amount of curiosity. He filled his nostrils with the lingering herbal scents and allowed his hand to brush furtively against a soft heap of clothing hanging over a chair back. The branched candlestick was easily located and he was about to lift it from the dressing table when he registered an ebony-handled hairbrush that had been casually disposed of among flacons and boxes. The sight made him smile. As I guessed, then... With some luck he might be afforded an opportunity to brush that rich cascade of hair in the near future. His smile widened. Mine is such an auspicious prospect!

Every transient impression was fascinating but, whatever might be in there to further his connubial education, it could not rival Elizabeth as the centre of his attention and he was soon back to hear his wife share some additional musings.

"Truly, I am not the feeble being you imagine. I can well believe your sister to be more delicate than I and understand how you are accustomed to see to her protection. You need to consider that unlike Miss Darcy I've never had the benefit of a caring brother and so am quite used to manage on my own."

While he was cautiously placing the second candelabra on the mantle-piece, he had listened attentively, yet been unable to read her countenance. Admittedly there was a point to her reasoning but, as he pivoted, Darcy was eager to make Elizabeth understand his view in the matter and, hoping she would not disdain his solicitude, spoke up in uncommonly high spirits, perhaps inspired by his gratifying dressing-room visit.

"Now, feeble... I doubt that has ever been a word associated with your person, Elizabeth. But you are certainly more delicately - not to mention infinitely more delightfully - built than I, and it is a fervent wish of mine to keep you safe. I ask that now I am your husband, you grant me the privilege of being of service to you, beloved wife, whenever the possibility presents itself."

During this rather ardent speech his back was to the fireplace, a position which left his features intriguingly illuminated, as flickering flames chased shadows across his face. When he fell silent, his eyes seemed to reflect some of their warmth in rather a twinkling smile.

"Please, dearest."

He had placed the right hand over his heart, and it was only partly in jest. Thoroughly charmed Elizabeth smiled back at him and inclined her head with exceptional compliancy.

"I shall be honoured to find myself under your protection."

"The honour belongs to me, exclusively, and I thank you for it."

Having his tall form on display before her during his chivalrous request, dark and impressively towering as it was near the fireside, had unavoidably led her to admire the masculine aspects of his physique. She thought it very likely that wanton conjectures might be implied by her enamoured glances and, when next their eyes were about to meet, she looked away in some confusion.

Darcy frowned, as he noticed Elizabeth's evasive motion, for he could not take his eyes from the delightful picture she presented. Caressed by the soft light from candles and hearth she sat perched on the edge of the sofa. Her eyes were elusive, insufficiently lit, but as far as he was able to detect judging from her posture, she was not altogether comfortable. She does look thoroughly lovely though. He cursed his disability to handle the situation. He would take her to bed but...it might be - it must be - premature. She seemed unwilling or even fearful to look him in the eye. What is she thinking? Is she embarrassed? Was that excursion to the dressing room an attempt to escape me? Is my carnal preoccupation so obvious?

This last apprehension caused reluctance in him and he tried to avoid looking at her but for the briefest moments. During the weeks of their betrothal Elizabeth had commented upon the possible impact of his haughty expression; that unbeknownst to him, it might inspire awe and even feelings of diffidence. She had struck a chord saying that. He feared that his opinion was sometimes too easily betrayed by his mien, even when he had no such intention.

He knew himself to be frequently annoyed by the foolish behaviour of others and perhaps insufficiently intent on keeping the disapproval from his countenance. After her intimation he had tried to mend his ways. He had endeavoured to hide the fact that he sometimes found the foolishness of her sisters - to say nothing of his mother-in-law - somewhat trying. But that was before the wedding, back in Hertfordshire and to do with parts of her family that were no longer present. What if he was equally transparent now? Perhaps she was able to read his face and know his thoughts? What if his gaze betrayed him ... if his passionate wishes made her uncomfortable?

The newly shared experiences and the fact that this very room was where they had taken place, were not really making matters any easier. Quite the opposite for everything reminded him of yesterday and now ... now he was aware what it was like to embrace her. To love her, make love to her, holding her near his beating heart, where until yesterday he had only dreamt of having her. He knew her to be soft, so very soft. She constituted an even greater temptation now, an altogether alluring sight designed to seduce, nourishing his yearning eyes and racing thoughts. His hands ached to touch her, to cover her in caresses as he had last night, only even more passionate. And he would...just not yet. She did love him, he did not doubt her feelings, but surely women were not such wretched captives of the flesh as most men. It seemed frightfully beastly to pounce upon her the instant they were on their own.

In his irresolution his glances happened upon the tray with refreshments. Recalling her earlier remark and by reasoning already inclined to think that she would prefer for him to advance with moderation, he resorted to the strategy of yesterday. He longed to let his gaze linger, to wrap his arms about her, to kiss her, but, if he did, he was fairly convinced he would rashly forget about courteous behaviour. This was why, relieved to find an occupation for his rebellious hands, he grasped the wine decanter and without any afterthought, poured two measures of the red liquid into goblets.

"May I offer you some wine, my dear?"

Too unsettled to await her answer, he handed her a glass and drank thirstily from the other. Elizabeth had been about to open her mouth but, disinclined to platitudes, she nodded with a quiet, monosyllabic thank you and sipped at her drink. An unwelcome silence stretched between them.

Elizabeth reflected upon her options. What was he about, standing opposite her and keeping to the other side of the table? What if she were to step near him, to place her hand on his arm or even, more brazenly, his chest... to kiss his resolute chin. She yearned to do that and she had no real reason to believe he would disapprove. He had behaved as a newly married, loving husband should, been more than attentive, wonderful at the opera, ardent enough in the carriage and decidedly charming when they had descended from it. Why would he prefer this distance between them now? Puzzling man! Dazzling, puzzling man! She thought his handling of the decanter had betrayed some irritation or... even impatience? Her gaze locked upon the heavy candelabra in front of her and she considered the possibility that he might have resented being ordered about, but his overall demeanour made her dismiss that idea.

Darcy was swallowing another mouthful of liquid and his eyes sought Elizabeth's again; swept over her face in fact, for she was still looking away. He trailed the graceful line of her neck down to where it disappeared in a froth of lace. On the bodice of her attire there were several tiny ribbons tied into bows that looked to be ... easily undone. Something irresistible was gathering inside him, a heat accumulating.

He forced his gaze from her alluring nightdress and discovered the fading state of the blaze. By the look of it, no logs of wood had been recently added ...such negligence! In Mrs Darcy's bedchamber! He would certainly see to it that the maid responsible was reprimanded... The next moment he calmed down. Doubtless another instance where my ill-considered arrival hindered the abigail from finalizing her tasks.

He frowned anew. It would not do to have their chamber chilled down. Soon enough some pieces of clothing would hopefully be discarded.... Stepping closer to the mantelpiece he took care to hide an almost roguish smile of anticipation, as he disposed of his goblet on its marble top and bent to collect an accurate brass tool from the rack. He would rather see to the fire himself, than have a servant back to disrupt their delicate privacy.

Little did Mr Darcy suspect that even as he managed that, his wife had summoned her courage to steal another look at her husband. He was busy rekindling the fire and had no inkling as to the attention dedicated to his handsomely lighted countenance by Elizabeth's admiring gaze.

She had been amazed to discover in the morning already that there was such pleasure to be drawn merely from watching her husband move about the room. Now she noted the appealing contrast between his lean hips and the broad expanse of his shoulders; how it was accentuated by the tightly tied sash of his robe. The sight of its soft woollen texture made her feel short of breath, as if she'd been running. Yesterday that same sash had been undone and the robe opened to welcome her into his embrace. Oh, to be back in its warmth!

Cautiously balancing it, the housekeeper placed a covered dish on the table and sank onto her chair with a long exhalation.

"Please pour that tea, girl."

She motioned for the kitchen maid to get on with her task and, folding back the chequered napkin, urged her companions to help themselves to the warm crumpets. One of her all-seeing glances took stock of the room.

The valet had been down for some fifteen minutes by now, and if she was not very much mistaken, been a trifle upset upon arrival. He had been hiding from view, had taken refuge, actually, in a corner behind a newspaper. But reading it, he had seemed far from his customary composure. The rattling of paper and shuffling of feet had not subsided until the new lady's maid came down the stairs. The noise had been replaced then by a subtle but unmistakable tension, when he obeyed her invitation and approached the table to take a seat opposite Bradley.

Reclined in his chair Roget was now idly playing with a spoon, but his studied indifference did not fool her. The next minute, when he had set it back beside his plate and took to repositioning his empty tea cup instead, the housekeeper smiled to herself thinking her suspicions confirmed. He's not come to terms with the altered situation. Her attention shifted to the other side of the table.

The young abigail seemed somewhat ill at ease and looked rather worn as she accepted a crumpet with a low-voiced word of thanks. She was moving about on her seat, presumably unable to make her body relax. Yes, she's had two full days of demanding work. Extraordinary days they certainly were and it's not as if she has had time to grow accustomed to an ordinary day either.

Ellen Bradley was indeed tired, tempted to relinquish her upright posture and she sought relief from the vague ache in her back by furtively lifting her shoulders. She could feel fatigue threatening to overcome her body, now she was in a position to let it register. She had been grateful to find the premises near empty, for she had not known what to expect when Mrs Tuddler sent word. The maid who knocked on the door to Mrs Darcy's dressing room had been interrupted when she was about to convey her message. Distant voices and a commotion down the hallway heralded the master and mistress, warning the girls that the Darcys were back from the theatre and, even as they spoke, ascending the main stairs. Thus Ellen was left with the mere essentials of a message, delivered in a rushed whisper: once she was done waiting upon Mrs Darcy, tea would be served below-stairs ń not in Mrs Tuddler's rooms.

Most of the staff members were in bed by this hour and a peaceful silence reigned in the servants' hall. Ellen could hardly believe it was the same room that had so overwhelmed her when she first came here one week ago. During daytime this part of the house was seething with activity, servants bustling about in every direction running up and down the winding back stairs, each one of them engrossed in their own responsibilities and the few prone to laziness, forced to overcome such tendencies, knowing if Mr Hudson was not watching so might Cook be. Or else Mrs Tuddler would descend upon them from above.

Out of the corner of his eye Roget registered the girl's fidgety movements, as he cut a crumpet in halves and buttered it. Her apparent disquietude mysteriously lessened his. Before he took a bite, he shoved the pot of butter informally but politely across the table towards the young woman.

"How are things proceeding? Are there still trunks to be loaded in the morning?"

Stirring a spoonful of sugar into her teacup the housekeeper was addressing Roget. She wanted a better idea what the upcoming morning would involve. He took care to swallow and touch the napkin to his mouth before offering an unhurried response.

"No, I wished to avoid that. The major part of Mr Darcy's luggage is downstairs already."

He regarded her calmly as he set the napkin back on his lap. The housekeeper nodded her approval and turned her gaze to Bradley. That girl does look rather pale.

"And how about Mrs Darcy's valises? Please don't hesitate to let me know if you are in need of assistance, Bradley."

Ellen straightened her back automatically and glanced swiftly towards Roget.

"Most of them have been kindly taken care of...brought down with the master's, I understand. There will be a few more items, I'm afraid. A portmanteau and some personal things that can not yet be spared..."

"That stands to reason. There's no need to fret."

Mrs Tuddler nodded again and, cradling the cup, raised it to her lips. It was good to know Roget had been that reasonable. Fighting back a hint of annoyance she noticed that the poor girl had not yet accomplished the buttering of her crumpet. She managed to keep every feeling but kindness from her voice.

"Mind you enjoy your tea, while it is still hot, Ellen."

"Yes, thank you, Mrs Tuddler."

The elder woman watched the young one take a dutiful sip. She was worried about the girl's reticence. Discretion was one thing and highly commendable, but in order to rub along with the others she would need to loosen up some. But then she is still very new to this house. Or if it's the other way around...And now she's on her way to Pemberley! That will mean another unfamiliar and certainly more overwhelming house. She spoke up.

"Did I tell you that Mrs Reynolds ń she's the housekeeper if you recall. Well, did I mention that she's been with the family since the master was a mere child? Should you feel at a loss, you can turn to her for advice. What she doesn't know about the running of Pemberley isn't worth knowing, I'm sure."

"That's good to know. I suppose I may well lose my way in so big a house..."

She didn't look very reassured as she considered the future.

Mrs Tuddler's eyes met Roget's and she could guess some of his musings were much like her own. But would he care to act upon them? Well, she had better see to it by mentioning her thoughts in the letter. She must add one last paragraph before she sealed the missive that was to be sent along to Pemberley. From now on, it would fall on Sybil Reynolds to help this girl along. Or else Mrs Darcy might find reason to disapprove and eventually Mr Darcy would question her own judgement in employing Ellen Bradley. The housekeeper repressed a sigh, resolved she must do her utmost to prevent such an outcome.

"I depend upon you to take a letter to Mrs Reynolds, Roget. I'll have it ready on the morrow, if you will oblige me."

"By all means, Mrs Tuddler. I am only pleased to be of service."

He had filled the spoon from a bowl and gave his answer without looking up, as he let gooseberry marmalade drip slowly onto his crumpet; again a piece of behaviour which was surprisingly out of character for a man with his polished manners, the housekeeper reflected. She made a mental note to devote some lines of the letter to the latest information on Roget, but she was resolved to disregard him for now and shot the pale young girl an encouraging smile instead. She meant well and, had it not been for her last words, she might have had some success.

"We are in for an early start tomorrow and not too many hours of sleep tonight. It's a good thing most of the preparations are done with then. But you must take comfort in the fact that once you are on the road, there will be plenty of time for a substantial nap. You look like you would benefit from that."

Ellen Bradley felt her heart sink as she nodded and forced a smile to her lips. The outline of the other woman's round face turned blurry. So I look sickly...do I? Grasping her cup clumsily Ellen took a large gulp from it. She could not wait to leave the table and return to the privacy of her room. She was desperate to be on her own and be finally allowed to put her pounding head to rest on a pillow!

§§§§

She watched him manoeuvre the poker and fire tongs carefully; well-groomed hands rearranging the rough pieces of wood with perfect capability. It was not as if she had not seen him add the odd log or stoke the embers to reignite a dying fire before, but it had been more in passing. His present ease provided Elizabeth with irrefutable proof - he must have done this many times over the years. It was an unexpected realisation, reminding her of how much she did not yet know about her husband.

When Darcy reached for an additional piece of wood, the extended movement caused a portion of his hair to fall forward, and compelled his fascinated wife to observe how charmingly those tousled curls complimented the severity of his countenance. Her gaze trailed along his profile to the tip of his nose and from there dropped, helplessly, to his lips. She wondered, if a wife ought to devour her husband's features in such an uninhibited manner, but could not desist from letting her eyes linger on his mouth. It was so appealing, rather thin and determined at present, but a flickering shadow beneath the lower lip accentuated its sensual line. Elizabeth's face warmed, as she found herself recalling in some detail what it was like to have those lips caress her skin. Reminiscences gave a new direction to her thoughts and made her fingers coil unconsciously, as if they were once more entangled in the thick curls above his collar.

She had hoped for a repetition of last night's delightful revelations, but although they had then ended up enjoying a mutual familiarity and loving ease, the forced estrangement of a day and evening passed in public, in addition to his present behaviour, had persuaded her to withdraw into something of her former awkwardness. Was it only this morning that she believed the distancing formality gone forever? She could not make out what her husband was thinking.

As if he had felt her quizzing eyes in the nape of his neck, Darcy stood and turned from the fire to look straight into them. Defying an initial instinct to lower her gaze demurely, as might befit a prudent wife, Elizabeth told herself she was entitled to have these feelings for her husband and that in this setting perhaps she need not strive to keep them from him. Furtively moistening her suddenly parched lips she mustered her courage and kept looking back into his eyes. The heat she encountered there affected all of her being, even though he seemed to fixate foremost on her mouth. She inhaled deeply, and then let the air of an unsteady sigh pass between her lips.

Darcy was staring at his wife, transfixed, his brows furrowed. What is she doing? That maddening, swiftly disappearing tip of her tongue! Could it be on purpose? He saw the rolling rise and fall of her bosom and hesitated but a moment. There was a singular intensity to her expression, altogether impossible for him to endure with equanimity. He dropped the stoker carelessly near its stand and came to her, seizing her by the wrists to pull her to her feet.

"Elizabeth!"

It was agreeable ń alarmingly so - to sense her supple form so near him again. His features relaxed but his body did nothing of the sort. Can I handle this excitement? Is she aware...? Easing his impetuous grip on limbs that seemed suddenly very delicate, Darcy studied her upturned face. A lovely face, sweet, innocent ...and yet, so purposive.

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. Are you done stoking the fire?"

The fire? Yes, indeed. No further stoking is required... He believed her comment perfectly innocent, but could not stop that improper thought from intruding upon his own mind. Unconsciously frowning he released a deep breath and nodded mutely.

Elizabeth sighed, almost in unison, thinking herself as if caressed by his scrutiny. She had complied to the long awaited advance most willingly, relief and anticipation washing through her being. I love his touch, the strength behind it and his face is... so very dear! The stern determination on his features softened by hair in disarray contrived to render her husband irresistible. Gently freeing her right hand Elizabeth reached up to brush the errant black curls from his forehead and smooth the minute crease between his eyebrows with a finger. A barely perceptible shudder passed through him at her touch and, as before, his glowing gaze very nearly took the strength from her.

Her arm dropped to her side only to be instantly taken captive again. She was not sure why he did not speak or, if she should, what could properly be said. But she wished to let him know that her day had been filled with longing; that she had been anticipating the hour when they would be in seclusion. And, although she had not formed words, Darcy appeared able to read her eyes. He smiled and his hands brushed lightly over the silky fabric of her nightgown until her elbows rested in the warmth of his palms. Her breathing quickened at his touch, her body all but trembled, but she fought to regard him steadily.

Reading her countenance and deciphering her every word, smallest glance and movement, Darcy had been adamantly resolved to hold back. But now, encouraged by her bold inviting sigh, then that eagerly awaited touch and the consent in her unwavering eyes, he leaned in to breathe a kiss in the hair above her ear.

"Dearest ..."

Once he had given in, his caresses turned insistent. Moving in tiny circles, his thumbs stroked her arms until a minor tremor in her stopped him, as it made her shoulders appear so defenceless. He did not release his hold, but relished the sensation of her smooth flesh under his fingers. An enigmatic smile was lurking in his eyes as he pulled back to pensively search her features, before he touched his lips to her cheek.

"...loveliest..."

Between each brief kiss Elizabeth's eyes would meet his and see his ardour veiled in tenderness.

"...most bewitching ...."

Another sigh escaped her as he cupped her face in his hands and, with eyes closed, she gave herself up to the sensation of warm lips hovering somewhere above the cheek near her mouth, as he whispered the last word on a soft stream of air.

"...wife."

She was melting, growing ever more desirous to respond to his actions, to show him an equal amount of affection. A red haze rose behind her eyelids, dizzying and yet her senses were alert to his every touch. To steady herself she had placed her hands gently against his chest and when his tongue probed the corner of her mouth, she reacted intuitively, turning her head to catch its tip between tentatively parted lips.

Overwhelmed by surprise and intense sensation Darcy held still, again trying to ascertain her intentions. Elizabeth's lips were holding him deliciously captive, but now she grasped the lapels of his robe tightly. I never saw her more purposeful. It must mean she... He lost some measure of control and, with a gratified groan, made to move. Sweetly yielding, she allowed him to have his tongue slowly trail the narrow slit of her lips. Ah, sweet, honeyed mouth.

His mouth closed hungrily over hers. Lured by heated memories from the past night he was assaulted by a powerful impulse to invade her mouth but, not wishing to deter her from another delicious initiative by succumbing to his own desire, he lifted his head to put an end to the kiss. Sucking in a deep breath he stroked her back and made a brave effort to keep voraciousness from his mind, but his hands encircled her waist greedily.

Hesitantly Elizabeth moved her restless lips over his cheek. The rasping against his incipient beard eased the odd ticklish sensation in them. Content to be near him at last she fitted her nose in the ruffles under his chin and, positioning her head against his collarbone, could feel his fiercely beating heart behind the ribs. Even this fast, the pace inspired her confidence. Darcy neither spoke nor moved but to close his arms firmly about her and Elizabeth could feel his breath fanning the hair near her temple. She was reminded of last night, when she had been resting near his chest. Her eyes fell shut again; she thought it singularly wonderful that she should feel so safe in his embrace. This bewildering day was come to an end and she was finally back where she belonged.

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