“You can hardly approve of Henry II,” Darcy said.
“I approve of no king named Henry,” Elizabeth replied. “Only Richard Lionheart, and the various Georges who rule us presently. But I approve of all of our queens, simply by virtue of their sex. I only say that he began successful, and he continued successful until he died.”
“He was constantly at war with his own sons, and his eldest died while campaigning against him.”
“George, that is the lesson you should draw from the tale,” Elizabeth said to her son. “You shall inevitably come to a bad end if you lead an armed rebellion against your parents.”
“I would never rebel against Papa Darcy,” the boy smiled so sparklingly at Darcy that it made his heart melt.
When they settled into their rooms, Elizabeth removed and examined his bandage. There was in fact a slight tinge of blood on it, which there had not been for several days, but as Elizabeth simply nodded and showed no concern at it, Darcy did not rouse himself to feel any anxiety upon his own account.
He was too tired in any case.
It was well into the evening by now, and they sat in the room and ate a light dinner.
George kept coming up to Darcy, and he prefaced every speech with ‘Papa Darcy.’
After they ate, Elizabeth read to them, with her clear voice, from the beginning ofTheCanterbury Tales:
Whan that Aprill, with his shoures soote
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote[…]
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages[…]
And specially from every shires ende
Of Engelond, to Caunterbury they wende
The hooly blisful martir for to seke
That hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.
George asked Elizabeth a great many questions about what the archaic words meant, and then he got bored halfway through the explanation and started running about in circles, though the quick action of both Elizabeth and Georgiana prevented him from swinging around the poker as a sword as he shouted that he would kill the bishop.
Afterwards, everyone was sent off to their bedrooms, though the children clearly were still overexcited. Elizabeth spent a while talking with George before going to the master suite with separate bedrooms that Darcy had taken for him and Elizabeth.
Even though Darcy thought he should join with her, to sit with George as he was put to bed, Darcy found it difficult to get up. The matter was not one of an absolute duty that required action no matter how unpleasant it was.
He was tired.
Darcy felt a strong anxiety about this wedding night. He did not want to pressure Elizabeth or make her do anything that she did not wish to do. Yet, he wished for deeper intimacy, and to be free to touch her.
He found it difficult to stay awake. Elizabeth’s muffled voice and George’s occasional shouts entertained him as they sat together. He tried to read the Knight’s Talefrom the copy ofTheCanterbury Talesthat Elizabeth had purchased when it was decided that they would visit the city, but the words swam in front of his eyes. He was tired from the pain in hischest, the exhaustion in all his muscles, and the long day with richer food than he was accustomed to.
Elizabeth came in, still wearing the green cotton travel dress that she had changed into after the wedding. She smiled widely to see him on the bed with the book in front of him.
Her face glowed in the candlelight. Her lovely curves were outlined by her dress, and her cheeks dimpled. “I am glad you are not asleep. I’ve longed for it to be just us again—Papa was quite strict aboutthatmatter.” She laughed and sat next to him on the bed. “My dear Mr. Darcy.”
He took her hand. He was filled with a strong emotion, but a great deal of shyness. They stared at each other.
With a cracking voice, Darcy asked, “Could you read some more to me from the book? My eyes cannot focus.”
She took his hand and kissed it softly. “If that is what you wish right now.”
“I wish for you to be next to me.”
“Then I will remain here—you’d opened it to the Knight’s Tale? Quite a ridiculous story of high romance.”
