Page 77 of The Widower of Pemberley

“Romeo and Julietwould be an even worse omen.” Elizabeth giggled. “Much Ado About NothingorA Midsummer Night’s Dream. I leave to you the choice betwixt the two.”

“As I have never readMuch Ado. I think that will be the choice. Where shall I find a copy?”

“In the library.” Elizabeth rose and picked up a candle. “I shall fetch it.”

“Let me go with you.”

He rose and they walked together. As they entered the library, their bodies brushed against each other again.

Elizabeth found herself in a passionate kiss with her husband once more, him cradling her head with one hand while the other rubbed slowly up and down her back.

His tongue flickered into her mouth, and she felt a jolt of pleasure as it moved against her own.

It was frightening and licentious to do such a thing in her father’s library.

Rather to Elizabeth’s disappointment, he pulled back.

He rested his head against hers. “Tomorrow. And I do not wish to hurry you. We must wait.”

He breathed heavily.

She breathed heavily as well. All her sisters were asleep in the rooms around them.

Mr. Darcy picked up the candle. “Now where are your Shakespeare folios?”

Elizabeth retrieved the volume containingMuch Ado About Nothing.

When they returned to the drawing room, Elizabeth at last, since it could be interpreted as affectionate rather than desperate, asked for something she wanted.

“May I lay my head against your shoulder as you read?”

Mr. Darcy appeared surprised by the request. He stared at her for what seemed a terribly long time. Then he nodded solemnly.

They arranged themselves, still both in the clothes they had married in. Elizabeth pulled her feet up onto the sofa, then leaned her head against Mr. Darcy, every so often squirming and twisting about to feel more comfortable.

She was pleased to find her husband had a fine, delightful reading voice, and he brought emotion to the speeches.

A little after he began the second act, Elizabeth fell asleep.

Much later, she woke to the sound of a soft snore.

Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep, his hand on her side and his head tilted back on the sofa in what looked to be a quite uncomfortable pose. She stood up, and though he stirred a little, he did not rise.

Elizabeth collected several cushions, which she placed under his head, then covered him with a blanket. She also rearranged his legs into what looked to be a more comfortable position.

Then she lay down again, her head in Mr. Darcy’s lap. She pulled a second blanket over herself and grabbed one of her husband’s hands so that she could hold it tight against her chest.

Despite the oddness of the situation, in five minutes she was sound asleep again.

Chapter Eighteen

Elizabeth woke with a start when Colonel Fitzwilliam shook his cousin awake. She also sat up, blinking in the blinding light of the man’s lamp.

The fear of the duel washed over her again.

“Still dressed, I see,” the colonel said. “Here.” He pushed a carafe full of coffee into his cousin’s hands. Another man, whom Elizabeth recognised as her husband’s valet, stood with him.

Mr. Darcy drank deeply from the coffee and shuddered as he stood. “Elizabeth, go back to sleep.”