AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Lizzy had not returned to Hertfordshire until Jane’s confinement had begun, doing everything she could to ease her sister’s discomfort and nerves. To everyone’s surprise, the babe had been in a great hurry to arrive, and on a sunny day in late June, before Mrs Bailey could even be summoned, Lizzy had safely delivered her sister of an adorable, healthy baby girl—Flora Elizabeth. Lizzy smiled to think of her dear little niece—and how wonderful it was to remember that they now lived within thirty miles, for Mr Bingley had recently purchased Ashland Hall. She rejoiced whenever she thought of it. Miss Bingley and the Hursts did not care much for Derbyshire weather, remaining in town—yet another reason to enjoy the snow.
It took some time to remove her damp clothing, for Lizzy would never dream of rousing Tilson to request assistance at such an hour. She did not even glance at her own bed but went directly to her husband’s—she loved his room, with its eclectic art, walls of bookshelves, two fireplaces, and overstuffed leather sofas. The bed was vast and luxurious, and he encouraged her to consider the room her own. He had told her, of course, that she might redo her chambers any way she wished, but what was the point, she had replied, when their mutual preference was to share his perfect space?
Quietly she slipped through the connecting door, enjoying the warmth of the good fires after the chill of her own room. He looked to be dozing, but she knew him to be a very light sleeper; carefully, she crawled in under the covers, hoping not to disturb him. But before she knew it, she was flat upon her back, her hands pressed against the mattress, staring up into piratical masculine eyes glittering in the shadows.
“I did not mean to startle you,” she teased.
“I was…thinking,” he said, “about our…wedding night.”
“Oh, those thoughts,” she said, smiling up at him.
“I had never wanted…anyone or anything…in my life so much…as wanted you that night. It was…exquisite torture to be…gentlemanly, to protect you…from my own imaginings.”
“I believe you have since overcome most of your chivalrous instinct.” She grinned, nipping his chin, feeling his response all the way to her toes.
He did not smile back. “I thought…it would fade,” he admitted. “Not my love…never that—but the…intensity of my passion. I believed…it would grow comfortable…familiar.”
“Like your favourite banyan?” she said, still smiling. “Or a cosy chair?”
His expression remained serious. “How can I…want you just as much…tonight as a year ago? More, even. How do these feelings…grow ever stronger?”
“I am not sure of the science of it,” she replied, “but whatever the alchemy between us, I have only one wish…that you press on.”
He smiled at her then. Their commitment to keeping on, pressing on, no matter their difficulties, was as much a part of them as the wedding vows they had shared.
“Oh, my dear,” he said. “Nothing…gives me greater pleasure.” In the dark and the quiet, his mouth found hers.
* * *
Darcy was a man well contented. He had just loved, and affirmed his love for, the most beautiful woman in England—his wife, his world. For their first anniversary, a mere fortnight away, he had planned an estate-wide celebration, with the Gardiners and all their children braving the weather and roads to attend; of course, their new neighbours, the Bingleys and little Flora, would be here as well. He would shower Elizabeth with jewels, too, but that sort of thing meant little to her; whilst she liked pretty things as well as the next woman, what touched her heart was more intimate—connexion, loving kindness, and family. After much deliberation, he had invited his cousin Richard to be here for the festivities. Still, whatever Elizabeth believed of his own character, he was not so forgiving as she, and he was not quite ready. But would he ever be? For her, he would try, not only so she could adore having more relations to fuss over but to be the man she considered him to be. It was as she said—family ought to be important.
But he had not counted on the invitation releasing something within his soul, something dark and disturbing…the frightening memories he had all but shoved aside in favour of the wonderful life he lived now and the anxiety that somehow, some way, his happiness, his future might disappear in a blink. It had once, after all.
The coldness of the thoughts drove him from the warmth of their bed to build up the nearest fire to a better blaze. After doing so, instead of lying down once more, he went to one of the tall windows facing the moonlit, snow-covered lawn. Its pristine appearance was marred by dozens of boot prints, snow angels, and what looked to be some kind of a snow fort with several apple-shaped snowballs stacked beside it—a surprise for him in the morning, no doubt. It made him smile.
A pair of arms wrapped around his waist, and he glanced over his shoulder.
“Did not mean…to disturb your rest, darling,” he said.
She only pressed him even closer, a warmth along his back, saying nothing. He had always loved that about her—she had no need to fill their silent spaces with talk, her quiet support upholding him nonetheless. He clasped her arms where they embraced him and just stood, looking out, enjoying her nearness.
“Where is…world’s largest snowman?” he asked at last.
She peered out from behind him to look over the lawn, pointing. “Over there, beside the fountain. Do not you see it?”
He squinted. “I see three big lumps, one beside the other.”
“That is it. His name is Sir Goliath, and he is lying on his side, propped up on one arm and leisurely enjoying a carrot whilst looking up at the fountain. You must view him from the other direction to take him all in, of course. We planned to bring you out in the morning to see and appreciate our artistry.”
“And perhaps be bombarded by snowballs?” He chuckled, and she giggled without a trace of guilt.
He pulled her around to his front, resting his chin on her soft curls as he wrapped his arms around her. “Have I…told you today…how much I love you…Mrs Darcy?”
“I never tire of hearing it. Will you tell me what is the matter, my love?”
He felt the warmth and strength of her in his arms, smelt the fresh floral scent of whatever she used in her pretty hair, and he wanted her all over again. He sighed.
“What if…it happens again?”
