Chapter 28

S he lay there in silence, attempting to admire the room in a futile effort to forget the maddening pounding of her heart. Yet, such an effort proved impossible. She watched him enter, and mirroring the scene from her dreams, he knelt beside her, but this time, he put his head on her hand, which rested upon the sofa.

“Sir!” she exclaimed, surprised but unwilling to withdraw her hand. He lifted his head, wearing an expression that dissolved all of Elizabeth’s worries and doubts. The man who gazed at her loved her deeply, and words and gestures were rendered useless for once. Still, she yearned for it all. She smiled, hoping her face could match his openness. He took her hand to his lips, searching deep in her eyes for the woman he loved who had been absent for days.

He had arrived with boundless fears. The doctor had instructed them to speak softly and avoid disturbing her with unsettling news, abrupt movements, extended walks, and by giving her too much food or too little. It seemed they were forbidden from engaging in any activity in her presence. This told Darcy that not even the doctor knew her condition, as sleeping for five days was an ailment shrouded in mystery. He was hesitant and barely dared to touch her, when every fibre of his body wanted to take her into his arms and hold her there forever, but he had to exercise patience.

“My aunt told you everything.” He sighed seeing her how serene her eyes were.

“Yes, but I want to know more.”

“Not now.” He smiled.

And the terrible lady he almost feared and utterly loved nodded in agreement.

“You nearly killed me, Elizabeth,” he murmured, drawing a chair nearer to the sofa.

“I nearly killed me,” she replied with a smile.

“Do not jest about such a matter. I shall not let you out of my sight from now on until the end of our days.”

“I shall eventually return to my home,” she retorted, only to exercise her smile and her irresistible wish to tease him.

“I know not of what you speak. This is your house now. Pemberley is your home.”

“Yet I do not recall being formally asked to become the mistress of this house.”

He gazed at her with astonishment. The woman before him was the Elizabeth of old, yet he was scared that she might exert herself too soon .

“Well, sir? What is your answer to my question?”

“My love, you were sleeping every time I asked you to be my wife.”

“Oh,” she responded with a familiar mischievous smile—the same Elizabeth always ready with playful words and gestures. “You chose a good moment to propose to me—when I was unconscious! You are the master of crazy proposals, Mr Darcy!”

However, her eyes softened, and she murmured, “You were in my room when I was…” She struggled to recollect the peculiar state that had enveloped her—a mysterious realm between dreams and reality. “Did you sit by my bed during those moments?” she asked cautiously, her gaze fixed on him as she suddenly had a profound realisation, perhaps the only one she would ever have about those days she had missed.

“Yes, I was close to your bed each time.”

“And did you speak to me?”

“I may have uttered some words,” he admitted, slightly embarrassed. Besides professing his love and desire to marry her, he had often begged her forgiveness.

“During those five days, I had the oddest dream. I was at Matlock House, and you were…married.”

“No!” he exclaimed, pained that she had endured such distress, even though it had only been a dream.

But Elizabeth nodded, saying, “I saw you in my dream, on bended knee, pleading for my forgiveness.”

“How strange! I was by your side, hoping my presence would bring you back from where you had travelled. I yearned, above all else, to hold you in my arms, but the doctor forbade us from moving you.And yes, I did beg you for forgiveness,” he confessed, determined not to keep any secrets from her.

“I was not dreaming about you, yet I was. I confused reality with the dream. You were close to me, on your knees, seeking forgiveness, but it was for marrying another woman…in my dream.”

“Oh, my dearest love, what a terrible dream you endured.”

“I imagined a strange story…”

“What story, my love?” he asked, whispering, unsure how to proceed with their conversation and whether it was not dangerous to her recovery.

“Cease looking at me with those eyes,” Elizabeth demanded, and he smiled. Indeed, she was returning to her former self.

“My eyes are filled with love,” he protested.

“Your eyes are brimming with concern and apprehension. I shall not shatter.”

He nodded, still unconvinced, but she was so resolute that he asked, “What story?”

“I may have imagined that you needed to see whether the child was yours and only then decide whom to marry—”

“No!” he interjected, his eyes locked onto hers, imploring her to recognise the depth of his love and the power of his decision to marry her. “No, that was merely a discussion I had in London with my aunt, who enlightened me on the schemes employed by ladies to ensnare a man. When I departed for Pemberley, I knew the truth about— ”

But he did not pronounce that name he loathed more than any other in the world. That was the past, and he wanted to forget everything in Elizabeth’s arms.

“Then why did you not speak sooner? Why did you not visit Longbourn to tell me what you had found out or, at the very least, write a letter?” Elizabeth asked, her voice tinged with fury.

“That is why I was asking for forgiveness—because I was an idiot not to let you know the truth the moment I discovered it,” he confessed, regretful. “But by then, my aunt confessed to having visited you and convinced you to come to Derbyshire…it was a matter of days before we would be together. In my defence, I can tell you that I had a plan in mind.”

“What plan did you have?” she asked, curiosity overpowering any lingering resentment.

She gazed at him, hoping he might finally propose, ending her torment. However, he merely smiled.

“Have patience, my love.”

Patience, alas, was the one virtue she lacked. Nevertheless, she concealed her impatience, for they still had unresolved matters.

“I need to know everything,” she pleaded.

“Did my aunt not tell you the whole story?”

“She told me you are free. She told me that you were in true danger.”

“She exaggerated.” Darcy smiled to calm her fears. “I shall tell you the whole truth. I intended to throw off my honour and morals to marry you. After my aunts woke me up from that horrible dream and stopped that marriage, even before Lady Matlock discovered the truth, I was ready to give up everything to be with you. You once asked me whether I would ever sell Pemberley—yes, it crossed my mind, to sell it and then take you far from everything and everybody, just me and you. I did not care whether my reputation in London suffered, knowing that my future wife was a lady who cared not a whit about living in town nor wished for the approval of high society—”

“You are certainly wrong, sir, if you are talking about me,” Elizabeth remarked, to which he responded with a hearty laugh, secure in the belief that she would forever grace Pemberley’s halls by his side, indifferent to the glittering life of London society, or she would follow him to the end of the world.

And finally, she joined in his merriment, for it was undeniably true.

“I must take you in my arms,” he declared, and to his astonishment, she rose to her feet, though her balance was unsteady. He swept her into his embrace, sighing with relief and then with love, for there had been moments when he had doubted this time would ever come.

“You are smothering me,” she whispered.

“I cannot let you go,” he admitted. “I shall lie with you in my arms on the sofa.”

“Someone may enter,” she cautioned, more for the sake of play than conviction.

“I highly doubt that anyone would dare intrude. Both my aunt and yours are at the door, and I left them a rifle.”

And they tittered like mischievous children .

Delightfully entwined, they stretched out on the sofa, and immediately, his lips brushed against hers as gently as a passing breeze. He wanted to stop, but Elizabeth murmured, “No, continue…”

“The physician advised us to take care when close to you and forbade abrupt movements.” He smiled.

“Forget the physician! I am returned, and I intend to stay!”

“You speak the truth, my love. And besides, you have already been dishonoured, for I have spent every night in your chamber, the most horrible ordeal a man could live through, to see his love in that state that was not sleeping.”

“I am indeed returned,” she affirmed.

“The physician forewarned us you might never recover.”

“This is me, close to you,” she murmured, shifting within his embrace.

Her body was coming to life in his arms, but it was not the awakening from her previous state of oblivion; it was so different this time. Elizabeth was leaving behind her youthful innocence, her senses now attuned to the nuances of love and lust. His body close to hers made her quiver for the first time, discovering passion.

She shuddered, and he felt her slight movement against him, and again, he became afraid.

“Are you unwell?” he asked, stricken with fear.

“Cease, Fitzwilliam, cease!” she murmured. “It is something else.”

“Else?” he asked, still uncertain, but the haze he discerned in her eyes bore no resemblance to illness. Elizabeth quivered at their nearness, and suddenly, he forgot everything—all worries, fears, and doubts vanished as his lips covered hers. His kiss was fervent this time, pressing hungrily upon her inexperienced yet eager lips. Elizabeth wanted him to teach her the ways of love, and his kiss deepened with each passing moment.

Unexpectedly, she tore herself from his embrace, gazing at him in wonder, shivering and sighing at the same time.

“What have you done to me?” she whispered, feeling a delightful ache in her stomach and intimate parts, pulsing in a delicious pain she never imagined existing, while a strange tide engulfed her body from her toes to her head, sending rapture and joy.

“I merely held you in my arms.” He smiled.

“Liar! You…you—”

“I?” he cunningly asked, beginning to feel the fiery passion of his future bride.

“You know everything, and I know nothing. I want everything too!”

“Elizabeth!” he exclaimed, feigning shock.

“Yes, I want it now.”

“And I too want it now,” he teased, gently kissing her ear, “but we shall wait until our wedding night.”

“And until then?” she asked, crestfallen.

“Until then, I shall show you the depths of passion.”

“I want to get married,” Elizabeth declared, momentarily forgetting that he had not yet formally proposed.

“I have written to your parents—your father—requesting your hand—”

“But I was unconscious— ”

“I know. Nevertheless, I implored your father to ask your rector to read the banns announcing our marriage, for I was certain you would come back to me, and I did not want to waste any more time—not even a second.”

“Oh!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “So the banns will be read in Meryton this Sunday.”

“And at Pemberley, my love. And…your parents and sisters are already en route to us…and Bingley. Perhaps we might have a double wedding.”

Elizabeth regarded him with suspicion.

“What did you say? My parents are coming?”

Darcy nodded, reluctant to reveal that the physician had recommended summoning her parents. However, that was in the past, and now the Bennets were journeying to witness a wedding.

“You invited my mother?” she queried.

“Yes, it was unavoidable,” he conceded, looking slightly apprehensive. But he meant it in jest, in stark contrast to what had been said in Kent.

“I shall chastise you for your treatment of my mother and my family.”

“I am certain you will, and I shall chastise you for proclaiming you would never marry me.”

And once again, he kissed her, this time Elizabeth nearly melting in his arms.

“What follows?” she whispered, and he smiled, fully aware of her meaning.

“I shall kiss your neck and your ears, and then…” he began, pausing to meet her gaze. “And then I shall descend to your maddening chest— ”

“Oh!” She blushed, her eyes locking deeply with his. Despite her shyness, her curiosity about what lay ahead had been kindled. She did, however, offer a gentle reminder. “Maintain a modicum of decency, sir!”

“My decency is overshadowed by my wish to make you mine,” he responded. Elizabeth gently extricated herself from his embrace and stood before him.

“Must I remind you that you have not yet asked for my hand?”

But all she received in response was an enigmatic smile and a chaste kiss on her forehead.