Loving Mr. Darcy: Journeys Beyond Pemberley

Chapter Five London, 1817

The London of 1817 was a city in-between. With a population well over one million souls, London was easily the largest single city in the world. The self-indulgent excesses of the Georgian Period had waned along with the madness of its King. While George III remained locked safely away at Windsor Castle, his son and future King, George the Prince Regent, ushered in an Age of Elegance, embracing the arts and science with all issues devoted to the advancement of beauty, style, and taste. The two wars and crushing defeats by the new United States of America were a memory, and Napoleon Bonaparte had finally been eliminated, thus permanently ending the decades-long unrest in France. This allowed a resurgence of exchange in both goods and culture, inaugurating an influx of technology, industry, and immigrants.

These intervening years, as well as those that would follow, when the Prince Regent became George IV in 1820, were years of tremendous change for Britain. London, as its capital and largest city, would reflect these changes first and to greater degrees than the rest of the country. Embracing the romantic ideals of nature and emotion rather than the serious rationalization of the Enlightenment, theater, art, literature, poetry, and architecture would radically change and flourish. The inundation of technology and science eventually led to an industrial revolution that would burst forth from London to all civilized nations of the world.

Masses of people of all nationalities and classes flooded unceasingly into the city. New suburbs, shopping districts, commerce areas, docks, housing communities, factories, and more seemingly sprung up overnight. The officials, public workers, and law enforcers groaned and strained under the added burdens engendered. Therefore—while such wonders as gas lighting illuminated the streets and houses, agricultural delights from far away places became imported, and structural marvels like new bridges spanned the Thames—pollution, crime, poverty, and the yawning chasms between the classes increased. Whereas the gap separating the richest and the poorest expanded, the middle class rose to fill the chasm. These merchants, bankers, artisans, and tradesmen eventually aided England in becoming an even stronger empire.

London, analogous to most large cities, naturally separated into localities based on class and objective. At the lowest rung were the slums inhabited by those who through choice or misfortune lived a life of poverty or crime, or more often both. These were the areas that the vast majority of London's inhabitants avoided at the risk of life and limb. Other blocks catered to business or government. Bond Street, Covent Gardens, and Cheapside, just to name a few, catered to shopping needs. Fleet Street was world renowned for its publishing. The Guildhall, Houses of Parliament, and Old Bailey at the Newgate Prison complex dealt with governmental and law enforcement aspects.

Scattered throughout London were the residential districts generally surrounding a garden square or park of varying sizes and fulsomeness depending on the affluence of the populace. The Mayfair and Kensington Districts, both bordering Hyde Park and St. James Park where the Royal Palace stood, were unarguably the wealthiest and most fashionable neighborhoods in all of London. Each locality boasted several astounding gardens and splendid houses; however, Grosvenor Square in Mayfair was incomparable. Darcy's great-greatgrandfather had been a close companion to Sir Grosvenor and, in fact, had married one of his cousins. Consequently, the Darcy family had acquired one of the initial townhouses built facing the Square itself.

The traffic entering the city was excessively congested, causing the journey from Wembley to the townhouse to take as long as the entire distance from Longbourn! The unrelenting noise and stench of multitudes of horses, fireplaces, sewage, and heaven only knows what else had seriously affected Lizzy, educing a stabbing headache and severe nausea barely held in check. Darcy was extremely disturbed, frantic to reach the house, and mad with frustration as there was no way to speedily do so. Upon finally arriving late in the afternoon, an ill Lizzy insisted on walking into the house despite Darcy's intention to carry her. He opened his mouth to argue, but one glance at her pale yet determined face and he pinched his lips into a thin line, remaining silent. She leaned heavily against his side, steps sluggish, but managing with a reserve of strength truly remarkable under the circumstances. Darcy was nervous but proud of her indomitable spirit. She was quickly reintroduced to Mrs. Smyth, the housekeeper, and Mr. Travers, the butler, then rushed to the master chambers while commands issued forth from a stern Darcy and were hastily discharged. In consequence, the first night was rather chaotic with Lizzy violently ill, Darcy fretful, and Georgiana worried and forgotten.

Lizzy knew that Darcy had a hectic agenda scheduled for the next three days. He had meetings planned with his solicitor as well as several business associates, but had informed her with a mischievous smirk that primarily his affairs involved her birthday. He stubbornly refused to reveal the merest hint regarding his plans, only bidding her to keep the day free of all engagements. When she woke on their first day in Town, Darcy had already risen and was busily writing at the desk in the small sitting room attached, one eye on his slumbering wife. After dashing to the water closet, Lizzy shuffled slowly and shakily to her husband, who nervously stood waiting for her. Instantly he enfolded her into his arms, hugging her tightly then assisting her to the chaise.

“What can I do for you, my love?”

“Nothing, William, thank you. It will pass. Perhaps you could ring Marguerite for some tea?”

“Of course! How thoughtless of me.” Once that was accomplished, he sat beside her, stroking her leg gently and raptly staring as if he could will the illness away.

Lizzy smiled through drooping eyes and patted his hand. “Return to your work, dearest. I will be fine and there is no reason for you to hover.”

Yet hover he did, repeatedly asking if there was anything she required and not concentrating on the pile of papers on his desk for more than ten minutes at a time. Therefore, although she continued to suffer from a mild headache and transient nausea, the combination of foreknowledge regarding her husband's full docket and the fact that his watchfulness was frankly driving her insane motivated Lizzy to bluntly order him to leave. She felt a bit guilty for the necessary rudeness, but once he was finally persuaded to go, she and Georgiana breathed a huge sigh of relief.

The first three days in Town passed quietly and quickly. Georgiana and Elizabeth enjoyed their hours together, since they had spent so little time in solitary communion over the past week. The Bingleys, with Mary and Kitty, would be arriving the day before Lizzy's birthday. As of yet, the appearance of the Darcys to London had sparked no interest, although they both understood that the barrage of invitations and calling cards were inevitable. By day two, Lizzy was almost one hundred percent well with only the usual vague queasiness and food aversions, which were becoming rather normal to her. After two nights of deep sleep in her husband's arms, even her annoying fatigue had vanished. As she had done during her early days at Pemberley, she utilized the time while Darcy was away to wander about the house.

Darcy House was tiny and nondescript compared to the opulence and vastness of Pemberley, but when contrasted with the other manors in and around Grosvenor Square, it was majestic. Constructed of polished white stone, it appeared to glow. Numerous tall, arched, multi-paned windows spaced evenly across the entire front allowed beams of light to illuminate all the rooms. Although possessing far fewer rooms than Pemberley, at two stories high, not counting the basement level, and nearly an entire block wide, Darcy House was spacious and accommodating. The sizable and impressive library was also Darcy's study, the enormous parlor housed the grand pianoforte, and there was only one dining room but it was expansive and lavish. The ballroom was generous, if a fourth of Pemberley's, and the billiard room, a necessity in a Darcy household, included a host of gaming features and was ample. The eight guest chambers were comfortable, luxurious, and modern if relatively modest in size.

The master chambers were located on the first floor and opened onto a walled private garden. These rooms were immense and decorated with Darcy's preferred rustic tones and simplicity. When Elizabeth had toured the house during their engagement, she had been shown every room except for Darcy's. They had not specifically discussed it at the time, but propriety as well as the heightened sensual awareness they both experienced, especially Darcy, during Elizabeth's visit had lent unease to the idea of entering his bedroom. As her husband would confess to her later, having her in his home and so near his bedchamber had nearly broken his will. For the four weeks prior, except for the occasion of their first kiss, Darcy had been the perfect gentleman. His desire for Lizzy had been rigidly controlled and aside from his eyes, which hid nothing, Lizzy had not fully recognized the struggle he daily and hourly fought.

Now, as Lizzy walked through the house she remembered those incidents with a smile. On their first night in Town, Darcy had hosted them all for dinner. With only time for a short tour to the main rooms, they had retired to the dining room for dinner then after to the parlor. Lizzy had delighted in noting Darcy's relaxation and high humor throughout the evening. She well understood how difficult it was for him to spend day after day at Longbourn with the press of visitors and family augmented by her mother's shrill voice and incessant chatter, which is the primary reason she had requested her father chaperone his daughters. Her heart ached at her fiancé's discomfort, and it was with massive relief that she witnessed his contentment now. Therefore, when she observed Darcy's back as he unobtrusively exited the room, she frowned and did not hesitate. With a quick look around, she slipped out the door to follow. She found him on the small terrace, standing perfectly still as he gazed into the sky. With a smile, she paused on the threshold to admire him; the faint porch light glistening on his hair, long legs and broad shoulders so elegantly displayed by the fine clothing and straight posture, and the calmly authoritative stateliness he exuded.

“William?”

He turned to her with a wistful smile on his face. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “I was dreaming about you and here you are, as if conjured.”

She laughed softly, taking several steps closer to him. “Not quite that magical I am afraid. I saw you leave the parlor and wanted to make sure you were well and,” she hesitated, blushing slightly, “I wished to be alone with you,” she finished in a small voice, glancing away.

He closed the gap between them and lightly touched her cheek with his fingertips. “Then it is magic, for I wished the same and here you are.” His voice was low and husky. Their eyes met and it was magic: the magic of mutual desire and love. Instantly, they were both transported to the day of his proposal and first kiss in Longbourn's garden. Since that day, they had maintained the proper decorum and distance as promised, the kisses and touches shared brief and chaste with nary a hint of their longing that bubbled under the surface. For Lizzy, that morning had taken on a dreamlike quality and she had almost convinced herself that the passion which had flared was not as strong or as real as it had seemed. Darcy, naturally, had relived each touch and sensation unrelentingly, especially in his dreams where the emotions and urgency had taken on a life of their own, and it was only his maturity and inordinate self-mastery that contained him during the daylight hours.

Here, in the feeble moonlight, all regulation faded and he kissed her as he had yearned to do every moment of every day for over a year. He cupped her face and began with tasting her lush lips gently but thoroughly, the tenderness lasting the span of several heartbeats before ardency flared. Elizabeth circled his waist under the open jacket, hands flattening on his back as she pressed into his heated body and the kiss. With a throaty groan, he insistently parted her lips, exploring rapturously, and kissing hungrily. It was only five minutes of blinding ecstasy before they were jerked to reality by Mr. Bennet's voice calling his daughter's name. Darcy recoiled, melting into the shadows by the wall, guiltily forced to abandon Lizzy to salvage her reputation, which she did with surprising aplomb, while he was left shaken and shockingly aroused for quite some time.

The next afternoon, the Bennets and Gardiners had again been invited to Darcy House to dine, arriving earlier as Darcy had specifically requested the time to acquaint Lizzy with one of her future homes. Mr. Bennet had trailed along for most of the tour before becoming waylaid in the library. Darcy and Lizzy had not spoken of the previous night's interlude; in fact, they had not seen each other all day, and now the interwoven wall of embarrassment and seething heat effectively rendered them distracted, mute, and nervous. It was an odd and uncomfortable situation, the two of them having previously reached a place of blooming freedom and communication. As the tour proceeded with Darcy droning on and on about inane topics in a desperate effort to fill the silent void, Lizzy's discomfiture turned to irritation.

Her frustration boiled over quite by accident. They were in his mother's chambers, Mr. Bennet having been forgotten. Darcy fidgeted, fingers flicking unremittingly and white-knuckling the now wrinkled edge of his jacket, as he stammered something about redecorating from his ramrod post by the wash basin. Lizzy wandered inattentively about the room, barely listening to a word he said nor noting a single feature, suddenly catching her foot on the curled up edge of a rug. She stumbled ungracefully and would have fallen, but Darcy was there in an instant, grasping her arm so that she fell against his chest instead.

Time stopped.

She could feel his radiant heat, harsh respirations, and wildly beating heart; his close proximity affected her as greatly. Before she could even contemplate moving, he had buried his face into the curls atop her head, breathing deeply and hoarsely murmuring her name. She tilted her face upwards, and in a flash, he claimed her mouth in a bruising kiss lacking all restraint. She was paralyzed only for a fraction of a second before responding in kind, arms rapidly circling his shoulders and fingers laced through silky hair. They were delirious. Strong, probing hands moved all over her back, down over her hips then up to her waist, halting for a exquisite interval of gentle squeezes, before traveling further to just under her arms. He held her tightly, the kiss absorbing and fierce, concurrently pulling her greedily into his body while tracing thumbs lightly over the swell of her breasts.

Lizzy gasped in enraptured astonishment, sending a bolt of appalled horror through Darcy. He released her so abruptly she nearly fell. Pivoting with a strangled cry, he lunged to the nearest window, leaning onto the sill with hands balled into fists of steel, whole body trembling alarmingly.

Lizzy swayed, her mind in chaos. He spoke suddenly, voice harsh and tremulous, “Elizabeth, you need to leave this room now! Please!”

She stepped to the open door in hypnotic compliance but could not make herself leave. Time stretched and at least ten minutes passed with both of them breathing erratically and emotions in pandemonium. Unexpectedly, Lizzy discovered she was filled with anger. She shut the door firmly and walked to where he stood hunched at the window.

“No, William, I will not leave. Tell me truthfully; am I to conclude that our mutual love and desire are emotions to be disdained and ashamed of? Is this contempt and repugnance to continue after we are wed? Or is it that you honestly reckon you are such an uncontainable beast that you would hurt or defile the woman you love? Or do you have so little faith in my own self-control and decorum that you assume I would willingly allow you to ravage me like a bought woman?”

Her hands were clenched into fists and countenance a mask of monumental rage. She leaned toward him as he stood petrified with mouth hanging open and face pale, utterly shocked and mortified. Add a torrential downpour and it would be Kent all over again.

“Well!” she demanded, stepping even closer and lifting on her toes until only inches from his stunned eyes. “Answer me!”

Darcy was speechless, the pain lancing through his heart unbearable. “No, Elizabeth, I”—he swallowed—“I love you! Please… I have never wanted anything in all my life as I want you. You… are my life… you must know that? Surely…”

Elizabeth interrupted him, voice controlled somewhat, “Fitzwilliam, I do not believe any of the questions I asked are true of you. However, this is what I do believe: You are afraid of letting go of your emotions. You are wrapped in an inflexible cocoon of discipline and righteousness and are terrified that if you loosen one single cord you will unravel completely. You love me and desire me, yet resist showing me how much because you fear I will be disgusted or disappointed to discover you are not the towering paragon of virtue and excellence you deem yourself.”

She paused for a deep breath, suddenly drained of all energy and anger, cut to the quick by the tears shimmering on Darcy's cheeks and consumed with a fresh rush of irrepressible love.

Placing both hands about his face, sobs catching in her throat, she whispered, “My God, William! Do you not yet comprehend how deeply I love you? You can be free with me and I will always love you. I trust you with my life, my virtue, my body, and my heart! You have nothing to fear from me and I fear nothing from you. All I fear is distance between us.” She began planting kisses all over his face, his arms now tightly around her waist. “I beg you, my love, do not push me away!”

“Elizabeth,” he groaned, responding blissfully to her kiss, relief palpable as a tangible barrier in his soul surrendered. The power of their love crashed over him anew, and for the first time, it wholly dawned on him what it meant to love her and to be loved in return. The veracious definition of Two Shall Become One, as she had embroidered on the bookmark for his birthday, was suddenly clear.

The following weeks of their betrothal were a liberating experience for him. Their solitary moments together were brief and stolen but imbued with a heightened communion without the guilt of before. Darcy was always a gentleman, never crossing any permanent lines of propriety, but no longer so rigid or afraid to express his attraction to her. Oddly, the license to exhibit their passion for each other in regulated ways made it easier to control themselves overall. Additionally, the bridled but playful physical indulgences taken enhanced their communication and strengthened their commitment. By the time they were officially declared husband and wife, they were so intertwined and attuned that taking the final step of consummation was effortless and rapturous.

Now, Lizzy sat at Darcy's desk in the combined library and study of Darcy House, lost in pleasant memories as she dazedly peered out the tall window facing the garden, an enormous lilac bush gently swaying in the breeze.

“There you are.” Lizzy glanced up at her husband as he entered the room, a ready smile on both their faces. “No one knew where you were hiding. Are you well, dearest?” He stooped for a brief kiss but she grasped his face in her hands, halting him for a consuming exchange.

“I am fantastic, my heart, and even more so now that you are home.”

“That is quite the delightful greeting. May I assume, therefore, that you missed me terribly?” He lifted a brow, and she laughed softly.

“I pine for you if you are gone from my presence for more than a minute. All day is tortuous. Now hush and kiss me again, husband.”

Some ten heavenly minutes later: “Why were you sitting here in the twilight staring out the window?”

She snuggled closer to him, laying her head on his shoulder. They sat on the sofa, having transferred there for comfortable cuddling and kissing. “I spent the afternoon familiarizing myself with the house and ended here. I believe Mrs. Smyth has decided I am mad.”

“Why do you say that?”

Lizzy laughed. “She caught me opening cupboards in one of the guest bedchambers and offered to help me find whatever I had ‘lost.’ I tried to explain that I was simply acquainting myself with the rooms, but she persisted in questioning me. I finally gave up and left, but every time I turned around that tall footman—Hobbes is it?—was lurking, pretending to not be watching me. So I retreated here.”

Darcy was frowning. “This is unacceptable behavior. They have no right to question you or follow you. I will speak to Mrs. Smyth and Mr. Travers straightaway.”

“No, William, please. If it becomes an annoyance, I shall deal with it. For now I think they simply do not know what to make of me: ushered in fainting and green, sleeping all hours of the day, hardly showing my face for two days, and then finally appearing only to peak through cupboards! Gracious, even I am beginning to believe I am mad!” She laughed, but he was still frowning.

Lizzy rubbed a finger over the small creases between his brows, smiling impishly. “I know how to cheer you up, Mr. Darcy. Before you arrived I was reminiscing of how you so brazenly took advantage of my innocence in this very study.”

Darcy guffawed and coughed. “Really! Perhaps you are going mad, Mrs. Darcy, or becoming feeble minded with advanced age at two and twenty…”

“I am still twenty-one!”

“Not for much longer, and senility may be the root cause of your hideously skewed memory of the events you speak of.”

“I daresay, is that very wall not the one you pinned me against while taking shocking liberties along my décolletage?”

“I seem to recall an astonishingly strong armed fiancée forcefully ejecting me from my chair and nearly ripping the lapels off my jacket when she dragged me bodily to the indicated wall, kissing me all the while.”

“Hrmph.” She pursed her lips and pretended a pout. “Strong armed I may be, and thank you for the backhanded compliment, but you are a stalwart fellow and could have contested had you wished to do so.”

“Well, there you have it, my dear. I did not wish to escape, and furthermore, my duty as your future and current husband is to please you in any way I can, so I was caught in the proverbial rock and hard place. I chose the path of least resistance.”

He was grinning broadly and Lizzy chuckled. She sat up suddenly, hiking her skirts just enough to free her legs and straddled his lap. “Correct me if my scattered wits are failing me yet again, but did we not end up in this exact pose?”

Darcy smoothed the hair back from her face and kissed gently. “Yes, and I shall confess that ending here was my doing, although it was a result of my knees nearly buckling from the breathless exhilaration of your lips on mine and the creamy lusciousness of your neck. However, I did comport myself as a true gentleman once we were in this compromising position.” He kissed her again then smiled smugly. “Therefore, it appears to me that we have reenacted the event and have ascertained that the entire episode was your fault from the outset, and I judge there was no innocence taken advantage of!”

“Very well, I will concede defeat, this time around.” She began playing with the knots of his cravat. “Speaking of senility and advanced age,” she said as she smirked and fluttered her lashes earning two raised brows, “it probably has yet to occur to you, but we are married now and gentlemanly restriction are a non-issue, so…?”

“I will show you advanced age!” And with a growl he pulled her tight to his chest, kissing as only married couples are freely allowed to do, and euphorically tossing all gentlemanly restriction out the window.