When they broke, Elizabeth was breathless. Yes, she could see herself loving this man. Marrying him. "Before, you asked me a question, remember?"

  Mr. Darcy averted his gaze. "Can you stand?"

  Elizabeth smiled. "Before that."

  "You want to know me. I understand."

  "It may take a lifetime to know you as well as I would wish," Elizabeth said.

  Mr. Darcy tensed, and Elizabeth leaned forward to brush another kiss against his chin. Then, her uninjured leg wobbling, she continued, "So, I suppose, if we are to manage that, I must accept your proposal. Should you offer it again."

  "Yes."

  Now Elizabeth could not help a chuckle. "You will propose again?"

  "Marry me," Mr. Darcy ordered, his voice holding the same vexation she had once found irritating but now endearing, like the slight lowering of his brows as he met her gaze. "I do not intend to ask a fourth time."

  "Yes," Elizabeth said. "I think a fourth proposal is more than either of us could endure."

  Mr. Darcy's lips twitched, his eyes shining with ill-concealed triumph. "And you will meet my sister. And visit our home. You and your aunt and uncle, is it? And we shall invite all but Mr. Lambert to attend our wedding breakfast."

  "I think we should invite him," Elizabeth quipped. "If he had not accosted me, we might never have found our way back to each other."

  "No," Mr. Darcy said. He pressed his lips together, cocking his head slightly. "I think our paths would have crossed again, one way or the other. And we owe more of our new accord to the horse than that arse Lambert."

  "The horse?"

  "His name is Cupid."

  Now Elizabeth laughed truly. Swaying in her mirth, she forgot herself and lowered her injured leg briefly to steady herself. Pain spiked through her ankle, and Mr. Darcy gripped her arms to steady her. She sucked in her breath. It was a long way back to the village, and Mr. Darcy would have to carry her the length of it. "Perhaps it would be best if I wait here," Elizabeth offered. "I can sit on the steps there." Or what remained of them.

  "You cannot believe I would marry a fool, Miss Elizabeth. I will carry you to the gates of Pemberley myself, if needs be. But perhaps, if our luck holds, the dratted horse will find his way back to us. If only to learn if his efforts at matchmaking bore fruit."

  6

  Darcy and Elizabeth arrived in Lambton an hour after his starting towards the trail, having fortunately intersected a carriage carrying the parson's wife, Mrs. Weber. The stout, cheerful woman of three-and-fifty, took charge of bundling Elizabeth into the back of the carriage, injured leg extended, the heel resting on Darcy's thigh.

  With Elizabeth and Darcy settled, Mrs. Weber took the remaining bench to his right, her pale-blue gaze flitting between him and Elizabeth. "Engaged, Mr. Darcy?" Her hair, mostly pepper with threads of salt, framed a wide, curious face. "And us, not even a whisper? And you are to marry in Derbyshire? It would be my husband’s great honor to officiate the ceremony himself. Miss Bennet, is it?"

  Despite her injury and sodden state, Elizabeth was as graceful and warm as any gentleman could wish of his future wife, and by the time they arrived at the Inn, Elizabeth and Mrs. Weber were chattering as if they had known each other months or years instead of barely half an hour.

  "Pemberley is a lovely estate. Why, travelers often make it a point of interest, and Mr. Darcy is so gracious in allowing visitors to tour his home."

  "I believe my aunt and uncle mentioned this. Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner. They lived here a time--."

  "Louise Gardiner? You are one of her nieces? Of course. She and her husband had promised us a visit, and she mentioned a niece, though not her niece’s impending nuptials?"

  "Mr. Darcy only recently proposed."

  "Miss Elizabeth only recently accepted," Darcy corrected, letting the left corner of his lips rise in amusement.

  Elizabeth laughed, her dark eyes shining with understanding and returned humor. "Indeed, my fiancé can count patience among his many commendable qualities."

  "I find patience is a trait well rewarded," Darcy interjected, resting his palm just above her ankle. Her skirts had slipped down to her knee, revealing her calf. In their flight from the cottage, both had lost their gloves, and Darcy reveled at the warmth of her bare skin against his own.

  Mrs. Weber's lips twitched. "Indeed," she said. "Though what prompted the pair of you to go gallivanting across the countryside in a storm...?" She shook her head and sighed. "I suppose we were all young once."

  "Young and foolish," Elizabeth said, her tone far lighter than her words suggested. "And grateful for the help of our betters."

  "Betters?" Mrs. Weber's cheeks pinked. "Elders perhaps, but hardly betters."

  "Some wise men argue that is one and the same," Elizabeth said.

  Mrs. Weber laughed, smoothing her skirts. "It is just fortunate my husband insisted he needed new parchment for his sermon on Sunday. And he knows how well I love visiting the village. Not to mention the reams I use for my correspondence, though a good husband supports his wife's filial bonds, even as his calling has him dragging his wife three counties from their once home. And in her dotage."

  "You, Mrs. Weber, are hardly in your dotage," Elizabeth quipped. "And I can only wish myself the happiness in my marriage that you have found in yours."

  Mrs. Weber smiled, revealing a white flash of teeth, one missing on the outer side of her front, left canine. She leaned towards Elizabeth and whispered something in her ear.

  Elizabeth's face went bright red. "Truly?"

  "Oh, yes."

  Elizabeth bit her plump lower lip. "And that is not...?"

  "Am I not a parson's wife? And six strong children we have together. Two sons."

  Elizabeth nodded, her expression thoughtful.

  What advice had Mrs. Weber given his new fiancée? Darcy burned with curiosity and a touch of foreboding.

  "Yes, you will make our Mr. Darcy a fine wife," Mrs. Weber declared with a nod. "Kind, with an eager mind, but not too biddable. I am an excellent judge of such things."

  "Thank you," Elizabeth said.

  The carriage went over a bump, and Elizabeth breathed in a sharp hiss. Darcy cradled her ankle as best he could as Mrs. Weber apologized for the carriage's springs.

  "I feel no problem with the springs," Elizabeth demurred, though Darcy felt like his backside had mapped every mile of their journey. "It was only my poor choice of footing that got us into this trouble. And your swift carriage, Mrs. Weber, is seeing us out."

  "You are most gracious," Mrs. Weber said, and the conversation shifted with Elizabeth asking subtle, friendly questions to draw out the other woman's interests.

  Yes, Elizabeth would make a fine mistress of Pemberley. Though Darcy intended to marry her, even if she had shown no aptitude for the task, this ride set aside any doubts he might have harbored about their future together.

  The carriage pulled up in front of the Inn, and Darcy had a footman send in word of Miss Elizabeth return, safe and only slightly worse for the wear. A few minutes later, Elizabeth's aunt and uncle ran to the carriage, and in a worried babble, threw their arms around their niece.

  "Mr. Darcy," Mr. Gardiner said with a bow. "We cannot thank you enough for returning our Lizzy to us."

  Darcy could tell the older gentleman burned with questions, but discretion compelled them to silence in the open street and under Mrs. Weber's watchful gaze.

  "Mrs. Weber," Mrs. Gardiner said. "We are in your debt."

  "Hardly," Mrs. Weber said. "It was my pleasure to meet the future Mistress of Pemberley."

  Mr. Gardiner's eyes widened, and Mrs. Gardiner raised her fingers to her lips to hide a gasp.

  "Lizzy, what is she talking about?" Mrs. Gardiner asked.

  Mrs. Weber grinned, her eyes sparkling. "Ah, my apologies. When he said the proposal was recent, I did not know they had not told you...?"

  Darcy would have bet a thousand pounds at any of London's most notorious gambling hells that Mrs. Weber had suspected exactly the opposite and took pleasure in bearing this shocking, if also glad, news. Not out of malice. She lacked the lines of sour judgment that etched themselves on those who reveled in another's suffering.

  But sheer mischief. Yes, Mrs. Weber and Elizabeth had gotten on far better than even politeness dictated.

  "Mr. Darcy and I are to marry," Elizabeth said as though there was nothing surprising in her words. "We have yet to make a formal announcement, but... we are to wed."

  "Marry?" Mr. Gardiner stared at Darcy for all the world as though the word ‘marry’ had slapped him in the back of the skull with a board.

  Darcy sympathized.

  Mrs. Gardiner smiled a bit too brightly and said, "Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy? Mrs. Bennet said you and Lizzy had become acquainted at Netherfield."

  "And again, at my aunt's in Hunsford," Darcy added.

  "Ah. Of course." Mrs. Gardiner, after the initial shock, had clearly resolved to direct the flow of gossip as best she could. Darcy respected that. Mrs. Weber, Darcy suspected, was inclined towards gossip, though not the harmful sort. And it would be quite the triumph for her to bring news of Mr. Darcy's engagement to all her husband's parishioners.

  Mr. Gardiner, slower on the uptake, asked, "But I did not know you intended to call on Lizzy today."

  "That is of no matter," Mrs. Gardiner said firmly. "Lizzy is wet and her ankle looks swelled. We will have to call for an apothecary for a poultice. Mr. Darcy, you have our gratitude. Do call on us again, perhaps with a bit more notice, next time?"

  "He did not give--!" Mr. Gardiner started, and his wife poked his side with her elbow. "See if we cannot get another footman to help carry Lizzy up to our rooms."

  "I can make it, Aunt Gardiner."

  "You should not put weight on such an injury," Mrs. Gardiner scolded. "And it is shameful if Mr. Darcy allowed you to walk--."

  "He carried me."

  "Carried you!" Mr. Gardiner exclaimed. "Lizzy! I had worried about your sister Lydia--."

  "Shh! Lizzy is well enough, considering, and certainly her fiancé," Mrs. Gardiner put extra emphasis on the word, "would not leave her to struggle alone through the rain and mud."

  "Hmph. Certainly not," Mr. Gardiner grudgingly agreed.

  "Oh, young love," Mrs. Weber said with a long sigh. "No matter the strictures of propriety, it always finds its way."

  Darcy watched with irritation as Mr. Gardiner fetched a young, strapping man to help carry Elizabeth into the Inn. Darcy had managed it before, and in a storm to boot. But while Darcy knew he could manage a few more steps to see his fiancée to her rooms, Mr. Gardiner had dismissed him, and Darcy had confidence both aunt and uncle would want to have questions.

  And Darcy needed to see to readying his estate to receive his new fiancée. Given more time, he would return to town to beg favor of the Bishop of Canterbury for a special license, but that would likely prolong their engagement, and Darcy did not want to waste a moment longer than necessary to make Elizabeth his.

  And he would need to invite Miss Elizabeth's relations. And Bingley, of course. If the affection between Miss Bennet and his friend was true, and Darcy had no doubt it was on Bingley's part, then the rest would sort itself.

  "Mrs. Weber," Darcy said, bowing. "Thank you, again, for your assistance. It will be our honor to have your husband perform our vows."

  Mrs. Weber grinned. "And then a wedding breakfast at Pemberley..." She cocked her head, and Darcy knew he had no polite choice but to offer her an invitation.

  Nor did he begrudge it. "It would be our pleasure," he said.

  Darcy was struggling to decide a polite way to ask what advice Mrs. Weber had relayed to Elizabeth in the carriage, when the sound of hoofbeats splash-squelched a dull tympani against the sodden main street, and a man shouted from the entrance to the Inn's stables. "Ho! Riderless horse!"

  Darcy turned. "Cupid!" he called out as he ran towards his wayward mount.

  The horse slowed as he approached the stable. He was damp, his hocks stained with mud.

  "This'n yours, Mr. Darcy?" the stable hand, a thin, hawk-faced youth of about twenty, asked as Darcy and the horse met at the stable entrance.

  "In a manner of speaking," Darcy said, giving the horse an affectionate pat on the neck. "I had to dismount, and the storm spooked him."

  "Bad luck, getting caught out in a squall like that."

  Darcy grinned. "Bad luck of the best sort," he agreed.

  7

  Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth were to wed just as the leaves took on their autumn gilding. Elizabeth found herself too suffused with happiness to think. Not only was she to marry for love, but Mr. Bingley had proposed to Jane with the promise of a second wedding before winter.

  "If Mama will not quit planning more and more extravagances," Jane had whispered to Elizabeth the night before she and Mr. Darcy were to take their vows, "I fear Charles and I might steal a carriage and make for Gretna Green."

  "Take Cupid," Elizabeth had advised.

  Jane laughed. "That horse is now famous in these parts. I heard young ladies from the village braid flowers into his tail hoping to find a match for themselves."

  "They would do better to feed him apples," Elizabeth said. "Though my future with Mr. Darcy is due more to the storm than the horse.

  "And that dastard Mr. Lambert."

  "I would not advise anyone to braid flowers into Mr. Lambert's hair."

  "I cannot believe you invited him tomorrow to witness your vows!" Jane had laughed. "You are most magnanimous."

  "I should like to watch him choke on his own tongue, and this seemed the best way to ensure it."

  "Now that is the Lizzy I know and love."

  Mr. Lambert did not attend. None had seen him since the storm, though he had helped himself to a stash of his father's coin and a horse in advance of his flight.

  The wedding itself and breakfast after passed in a blur of well-wishes and idle small talk. All Lizzy wanted was to steal away and have a few moments alone with her husband. Mrs. Weber, in the weeks leading up to the wedding day, had given Elizabeth much advice on the nature of marriage and a sight more on pleasure in the marriage bed than Elizabeth would have thought proper for a parson's wife.

  "Nonsense! Mr. Darcy needs heirs! It is a wifely duty. Not that I expect you and Mr. Darcy will need much encouragement in that regard," she had mused.

  No, Elizabeth did not need encouragement. Patience, perhaps, as her future husband's duties and her wedding preparations had grown into a whirlwind of tasks, leaving neither with the chance to steal more than a kiss or two before someone or something dragged them back to some neglected activity.

  But eventually the vows were said, the food was eaten, and Elizabeth found herself and Mr. Darcy alone in a carriage on their way to what her husband had termed, "the Darcy summer cottage."

  They'd had their baggage sent ahead, and Elizabeth, knowing Pemberley overrun by both her and her husband's relations, was grateful for this promised oasis of privacy.

  "Is it far?" Elizabeth asked after the group of well-wishers receded.

  "Far enough that neither your mother nor my aunt can quickly visit."

  "It sounds lovely," Elizabeth said.

  "No more lovely than Mrs. Darcy's eyes," Mr. Darcy returned. "Or her hair. Or her nose. Or her lips."

  Elizabeth smiled. "Are you to name my features one-by-one?"

  "My wife's ears. Her elbows. Her knees."

  Elizabeth pinched her skirts. "You cannot see my knees."

  "I have seen your knees. And your ankles. And..." Mr. Darcy's lips twitched, and Elizabeth's face heated remembering just how he had gained familiarity with her nether regions.

  "You are making me blush."

  "I like it when you blush," Mr. Darcy said, unrepentant.

  "And to think I believed you disinclined towards conversation," Elizabeth leaned towards him, pressing her lips to his jaw. The windows of the carriage were open, letting in the green-scented breezes of late afternoon.

  "I like your mouth." Her husband turned his head towards her, and their mouths met. Warmth pulsed as he kissed her deeply, tracing the line of her lips with this tongue. When he pulled back to rest his forehead against hers, his eyes were dark, his breath coming fast.

  "I like your elbows," Elizabeth returned, knowing desire had made her a bit ridiculous.

  "Only my elbows?"

  "I am certain I shall find your other parts equally handsome."

  "You unman me," Mr. Darcy said. "I assure you, some of my parts are both larger and more handsome."

  "Show me," Elizabeth said, tracing the starched linen of his cravat down his chest to his belly. She had not yet seen his member, but Mrs. Weber's visits had made it clear to Elizabeth that it would, once she grew accustomed to it, bring her a great deal of pleasure.

  As Mr. Darcy's mouth and tongue in her intimate areas had already left her quivering, she could not help the shiver of anticipation that passed through her at the thought of her touching him, stroking him, taking him inside her and making him hers.

  Passion between husband and wife keeps a man faithful and ensures a legacy for you both. Mrs. Weber had declared.

  It would be better, Elizabeth decided, to push all thoughts of the parson's wife from her mind if she wanted to enjoy her wedding night as she should. She smothered an unwanted laugh.

  She brushed her fingertip over the fall of her husband's breeches.

  "My wife is bold," Mr. Darcy said, lowering his eyelids, almost like a dozing cat.

  "Your wife is eager to see all her husband's parts," Elizabeth retorted.

  "And she will." Mr. Darcy kissed her again.

  This time, his hand slid along her shoulder, then her breast. Elizabeth sighed as his mouth found her neck, tracing a path towards her ear.

  "Is this what you desire, Mrs. Darcy?"

  "Yes." She shivered as his mouth closed around the sensitive spot just below her earlobe. The carriage hit a bump in the road, and the motion made her head fall back. Mr. Darcy took the opportunity to kiss his way down her neck, then lower, to the hollow of her throat, to the valley between her breasts, then lower still.

 

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