Mr. & Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy: Two Shall Become One

Chapter Two An Intimate Conversation

Three days before the wedding

Lizzy awoke with a start and a gasp. She was breathing heavily, as if having run for miles uphill. Her body trembled and sweat beaded on her brow. This was the fourth morning in a row she had awoken in such a state.

She looked over at Jane sleeping peacefully by her side. Jane, luckily, slept like the dead and never seemed anxious or perturbed about anything. Rather annoying actually and Lizzy peevishly wanted to pinch her, but she resisted the urge. The glow of the sunrise was barely peeking through the drawn curtains. It could not be but six o’clock, if that. Lizzy knew it useless to attempt returning to sleep, nor did she want to.

That might make the nightmare return.

With a shudder she carefully left the bed, not that Jane would wake up even if she jumped up and down several times! Lizzy pulled on her robe and curled up in the plump chair by the window.

William, where are you? He had been away for a week and she missed him desperately. The ache was actually physical. He had traveled, again, to London to finalize his business interests and settle various unresolved issues. He was sacrificing this time, he explained to her, so that his affairs would not need his immediate attention during the first weeks of their marriage. His greatest desire was to be alone with her at Pemberley with minimal intrusions, business or otherwise. She appreciated what he was suffering on her behalf, but it still was grim to be separated from him. His letters, arriving once—sometimes twice—each day, comforted her. In clear language he poured into each sentence his own grief at their sundering and his enduring love.

His return had been expected yesterday. A sudden and violent storm had erupted, however. She had sat by the window all day and long into the evening, wishing urgently to see him yet also panic stricken at the thought of him venturing into the fury of the lightning and unrelentingly lashing rain. Finally, very late, she had tumbled into bed exhausted. Her sleep, when it did overtake her, had been troubled. Then came the nightmare.

Each night the same… She was in a bedchamber unknown to her. There were no furnishings except for a ridiculously huge bed that filled the room and reduced her to the size of the dwarves she had seen once when the circus came to Meryton. At first she was alone and wearing a diaphanous dressing gown from her trousseau with her hair free about her shoulders. Then Darcy was there exactly as she had seen him when he proposed: hair windblown, loose shirt open at the neck, and no concealing waistcoat or tight jacket. Altogether fetching.

Initially it was the perfect dream. He held her, kissed her, and caressed her body as she had hitherto only imagined. The subtle sensations she experienced in her waking life when he touched her were, in her dream, magnified tenfold and felt in areas of her body she did not even know existed. It was heaven!

Then abruptly it would change. She would panic; fear would rise in her throat, threatening to choke her. She would struggle and beg him to let her go, but he would refuse. Gone was the William she knew and loved, his beautiful face altered into the proud, arrogant mien that he had displayed at the Meryton Assembly. Then he would look at her with disgust and anger and hurt, as he had when she rejected him at Rosings. At the last, he would turn from her and vanish. It was then that she would startle awake, gasping for air, his name on her lips.

Lizzy knew why she was having this nightmare. She was afraid. As simple as that. Her wedding was just three days away and she wanted to marry Mr. Darcy with all her soul, but she was dreadfully terrified of disappointing him and unsure of his expectations.

The tender liberties partaken during these past weeks of their engagement had revealed a side of her fiancé that Lizzy would not have initially suspected. Reserved, disciplined, shy Mr. Darcy hid a deeply passionate nature. He was always the gentleman, always strictly conscious of propriety, and severely respectful of Lizzy’s reputation.

Yet, on more than a few occasions his resolve and constraint had been dangerously close to being lost. On a handful of those occasions they had crossed minor lines that would be considered improper by most, but he had harshly and agonizingly controlled himself. She could clearly sense when he teetered on the edge in his ardor for her. If ever the term “violently in love” applied to a person, it aptly described her William.

She would not be truthful if she denied that his zeal for her was flattering and more than a little bit welcome. As evidenced by the first part of her dream, sensations and desires were coursing through her with every touch and kiss. Merely thinking about him, hearing his lush voice, or seeing his smile would send rivers of electricity up her spine. Innocent little Lizzy Bennet was more than a tiny bit affected by the presence, touch, and kiss of her betrothed!

She, too, had experienced her moments of urgently wanting more and wishing desperately that he was not always so controlled. Yet, as they had come to know each other better, spending hours in conversation, the comprehension of his maturity and worldliness had struck her forcibly. The scope of how her life was to change as Mrs. Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley and wife to this complex man with intense bridled passions and taut emotions, was overwhelming.

Thankfully, she had shared her concerns and emotions with her Aunt Gardiner. The wiser woman had spoken with both girls at length, allaying many of their fears and answering the pointed questions Lizzy had. Her aunt was an earthy woman, forthright and blunt. The clinical details of the art of lovemaking were candidly illuminated. Jane had scurried from the room halfway through the conversation, never to return. Lizzy brazenly remained and cataloged each piece of information. She had been tremendously relieved afterwards and looked upon Darcy with new eyes, causing her to blush profusely more than once, to his puzzlement.

Unfortunately, her mother broached the subject several times, much to her and Jane’s dismay. Her parent’s opinion was the diametrical opposite of Aunt Gardiner’s. There was absolutely no doubt how her mother viewed the marriage bed. Her mother and father had an easy familiarity, and Lizzy supposed they cared for each other, but it assuredly was not a marriage of passion.

Mrs. Bennet clearly spoke of the sexual act as a trial to be endured with no evidence of pleasure to be gleaned. She confidentially and with pride imparted such pearls of wisdom as how to use their monthly woman’s cycle to stave off unwanted advances, the vital necessity of separate bedchambers with stout locking mechanisms, and the crowning gem: the headache.

“It works every time,” she confidently declared. “Of course, what proper lady would not suffer with a headache at the very idea of a man’s advances?”

As embarrassing as her mother’s well-meaning tirades were, she and Jane usually could find the humor in them. Lizzy knew her mother’s faults well and could shrug off her assertions in this regard. She was confident that her aunt’s advice was superior to her mother’s.

No, the disquiet did not come from this but from the personal assaults on Mr. Darcy that her mother had made. It had happened a week ago, on the very afternoon that Mr. Darcy left for Town. They were in the parlor and Mrs. Bennet had launched into a conversation about wifely expectations, again. Jane rolled her eyes at Lizzy, and Lizzy had to bite her inner lip to keep from laughing. Mary and Kitty surreptitiously slipped from the room. Initially it was innocuous enough but then her tone altered. Lizzy could still recall every single word.

“The important thing to remember, girls,” Mrs. Bennet said, fan fluttering, “is to be firm with your husbands. Naturally, you must submit when necessary; however, there are ways to avoid this, as I have revealed to you both. Jane should have no problems in this regard as her Mr. Bingley is so amiable and gentlemanly. He would never force himself on you, dear Jane. It is you, my Lizzy, who I fear for.”

Lizzy’s attention was caught by her mother’s last words, but she was puzzled. “Whatever do you mean, Mother?” she asked.

“Oh, Lizzy!” her mother responded with a catch in her voice, as if what she was to say grieved her. “Mr. Darcy is so proud and arrogant! He is a gentleman to be sure, but also a man of substance, accustomed to having others abide by his orders and being in control. You will learn, I dread, that his demands on your person may be tremendous!” She dabbed at her eyes with her handkerchief.

Lizzy was stunned. She knew in her heart that her mother’s accusations were unfounded and she wanted to defend her betrothed, but she was shocked speechless.

Mrs. Bennet mistook Lizzy’s expression and continued in what she thought was reassurance. “Do not fret overly, Lizzy. I am confident you shall not have to worry once you have provided him with an heir. That is what is most important to men of his station. Pray, child, that you birth a boy first; then all will be well. Men with social requirements such as Mr. Darcy cannot afford to allow their wives to be indisposed by frequent confinement. These great men always have mistresses to take care of their baser needs, leaving the wife free to fulfill her duties. Quite probably he has already established an arrangement of this nature so…”

“Mama!” It was Jane who surprisingly first found her voice and stayed Mrs. Bennet’s words. Lizzy was frozen with shock and horror. Her head was spinning, and it was as if a dark curtain was being pulled over her eyes. I am going to faint! She screamed in the hollow recesses of her mind, I need air! She jerked up from her chair, swaying dangerously, and stumbled frantically from the room. She could faintly hear Jane saying something in an uncharacteristically sharp tone, and then she was safely beyond the room, reeling through the front door.

Jane found her shortly thereafter and comforted her as best she could. Jane’s common sense and placid nature soothed Lizzy, and in time she reached a semblance of calm. Over and over she told herself that she knew Mr. Darcy was not that kind of man, that his love and respect for her was genuine and deeply felt. Even so, her mother had raised questions and new terrors in her mind. With this added to the maidenly forebodings that persisted despite her knowledge of the intimacies between the sexes, the nightmares had began.

As Lizzy sat in her chair watching the sun rise in the now cloud-free late November sky, her troubled musings clarified in her mind and she acknowledged the proper course to tread. She must discuss these issues with William. They had promised each other that they would never repeat the mistakes of the past, and the only way to ensure that vow was to be totally and completely forthright in every way. She needed to know the truth. More than anything, she needed the comfort that she instinctively knew he would give her.

A burden was lifted with a decision made, and Lizzy reckoned it was a good idea to clear her head further with a long walk in the brisk autumn air. Then she would prepare herself physically, dressing carefully, for certainly her beloved would return this afternoon and she wanted to look her best.

By eight o’clock Lizzy had completed her walk and was dressed for the day. She had no clue how she would proceed in broaching such a delicate subject with her betrothed; however, she refused to worry over it any further.

While breakfasting, she and her family were surprised by the arrival of Mr. Bingley’s carriage. Jane had planned to join Mr. Bingley for luncheon at Netherfield, so the carriage arriving so early was unexpected. Mr. Hill announced the carriage’s arrival and accompanied his announcement with a letter for Jane and, even more surprising, a letter for Lizzy. It was from William! Lizzy’s hands shook so terribly she could hardly open it.

My Dearest, Precious Elizabeth,

Please accept my humble apologies for greeting you, my beloved, in this impersonal manner. Rest assured that as soon as humanly possible I shall be greeting you with my arms tightly around you and my lips on your sweet lips, as they were created to be. My most fervent prayer is to allay any fears you may have regarding my well-being. I am safe at Netherfield, having arrived quite late last night. Bingley nearly was required to physically restrain me from rushing back out the door and into your arms. Reason prevailed but only when Bingley pointed out that, as the hour was well past midnight and you would surely be long abed, rushing into your arms might raise a few eyebrows! Frankly, his words fleetingly had the opposite effect as the vision of you abed was more than slightly appealing. Nonetheless, as you have probably surmised, being my clever Lizzy, I did stay here at Netherfield, dreaming sweet dreams of you.

Now I impatiently await your presence to assuage my aching heart. I wished to ride to Longbourn at first light, but, again, Bingley’s rationale prevailed. As it is, this missive is undoubtedly disturbing your breakfast, but I can wait no longer! The carriage is for you, dearest, and Jane naturally as well. If your desire to see me is even half as profound as my need to see you, then you are probably already racing to the door! Hurry, my love.

Yours forever,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Lizzy had not yet started racing to the door, but she had arisen from the table, breakfast completely forgotten. “Jane, how soon can you be ready to leave?” she asked, her impatience evident.

Mr. Bennet chuckled and grinned. “Why Lizzy, whatever is the rush?”

Lizzy did not deign to answer but continued to look at Jane questioningly.

“Very well, Lizzy,” Jane calmly stated. “We shall leave as soon as you are ready.”

Lizzy fairly flew up the stairs and in record time was pacing the foyer, waiting on Jane.

“Darcy! For pity’s sake, man, please sit down!” Bingley laughingly said to his friend.

Darcy had been pacing as well, wearing a literal hole, Bingley feared, in the carpet before the window that faced the front drive. Darcy ignored his friend and went on about his business. “What could possibly be taking her… them… so long?” he mumbled to himself.

Mr. Bingley continued to be amazed at the change that had come over his dear friend since his engagement. Darcy would forever be intent and serious, uncomfortable with strangers and in social milieus, but now there was lightness to his bearing, a softening that was altogether fresh. The most obvious differences were his ever-present smile and ready laugh. It perhaps was not perfectly apt, but one could almost say he was giddy! As Bingley observed Darcy’s face, he had a sudden epiphany: it was peace that he saw there. A deep contentment that had previously not been an aspect of his mien.

Bingley smiled in happiness and amusement. “Really, Darcy, be patient. The carriage left here barely an hour ago.”

Darcy turned, a ready retort on his lips, but his attention was captured by movement outside. An expression that could only be described as unfettered joy diffused his face, and without a word, he dashed from the room. Bingley had no need to ask, and with a chuckle he followed.

Darcy took the steps two at a time and practically danced in impatience. The carriage had not completed its stop before he was at the door opening it with such force that Bingley winced, sure the hinges would shatter. Elizabeth was already rising, her face suffused with the identical expression worn by her betrothed. With nary a thought toward the appropriateness or propriety of his actions, Darcy encircled Elizabeth’s waist with his strong hands and lifted her clear of the carriage. Her toes barely brushed the ground before he crushed her in his arms and twirled her about, each of them laughing hysterically. With supreme restraint Darcy refrained from kissing her passionately right there in front of God and everyone. He compromised by cupping her face with both hands and whispering a heartfelt, “I love you, Elizabeth!”

“Why, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth breathlessly teased, “I do believe you missed me just a little.”

They made their way inside, Lizzy’s hand securely tucked into the crook of Darcy’s arm.

Darcy had been far too anxious to break his fast that morning, and suspecting that the ladies breakfast may have been interrupted, the gentlemen had instructed Cook to prepare a repast for when their fiancées arrived. In short order the happy quartet was seated at one end of the long table. Darcy had managed to steal a few brief kisses on the way in and yearned to be alone with Elizabeth, but for now was content simply to have her by his side.

At one point Elizabeth leaned close to Darcy and softly spoke into his ear, “William, I am elated that you are back! I missed you so. Nonetheless, it is requisite that I scold you for venturing out into the storm yesterday. You could have been injured, and then where would I be three days hence with no groom to wed me?”

He squeezed her hand under the table. “I am prostrate with guilt, my love, for causing you pain. Please forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you,” she said with a laugh, “although I should not. I should be cruel and allow you to suffer as I suffered all day!” She removed her hand from his and affected an angry pout.

“You cut me to the quick, Miss Elizabeth! My torment at your disfavor is acute. I have no choice but to fall to your feet in abject humility and beg the indulgence of your forgiveness.” With that proclamation he precipitously scooted his chair back and began to drop to his knees.

Lizzy arrested his movement by hastily grabbing his arms. “Ridiculous man!” she laughed. “Return to your seat this second! I forgive you.” She proved her forgiveness by giving him a kiss. “I am still curious as to how you made it here at all and why you arrived so late. You appear hale enough so I must assume you were unharmed.”

“My intent was to ride Parsifal from Town,” he explained, “knowing I could traverse the distance quickly, the sooner to see your face, my love. The ominous clouds and the urging of Mrs. Smyth induced me to take the carriage. That decision, naturally, meant waiting longer to depart. I was hoping to beat the storm but, alas, I was still on the outskirts of London when the torrent began. The roads were muddied within minutes. My coachman persevered for quite some miles, but eventually we had to hole up at a pub in Mayfield.

“We were not the only travelers foolish enough to be caught in the storm, so the establishment was lively and offered a pleasant diversion for the afternoon. Surely not as pleasant as being with you, but, as I had no real option, I made the best of it. Finally I could stand the wait no longer and we pushed on. It was slow going, and foolhardy I expect, but in the end we arrived none the worse for wear except for being drenched and mud splattered.”

All throughout brunch, even with Darcy’s infectious delight, Elizabeth could not cease ruminating on how she was to proceed with veering a conversation toward the topic of her nightmare. She was deliriously happy to be with Mr. Darcy and, in light of his obvious pleasure to be with her, she found her mother’s accusations and her own apprehensions did not carry as much weight. Even so, the questions needed to be answered and the small knot of disquiet in her gut must be alleviated.

Upon the completion of the meal, when all were satisfied, Jane and Mr. Bingley announced that they were to take a walk about the grounds. Lizzy was game for this, thinking that it would afford her the privacy she needed. Darcy surprised her, though, by saying that he had something to show her in the library first. Bingley seemed bewildered but he did not comment.

Darcy kept the library door ajar, naturally, but guided Elizabeth to a far corner. He took her in his arms, kissed her waiting lips with restrained ardor and taking the time to rain several kisses along her neck. All too soon, though, he released her and sat her on a sofa, sitting close beside and taking her hands in his.

He peered into her eyes with an intensity she had come to recognize, and said, “Very well, Elizabeth. Tell me what is troubling you.”

She was momentarily struck dumb and then stammered, “What do you mean?”

“Do not play coy with me, beloved. I can feel when something is amiss in your heart. You have not been quite your lively self. Several opportunities to laugh at and tease me mercilessly passed you right by! That would never occur if all was well.” He tenderly stroked her cheek. “Please enlighten me to your distress. Allow me to comfort you.” He spoke softly and with tremendous love.

She knew this was the opportunity she had been waiting for, yet found herself unsure how to proceed. He waited patiently while she struggled within, never once letting go of her hands or ceasing his gentle caress or removing his eyes from her face.

“You are correct, William; I am troubled. We need to speak of a delicate subject. Or rather I need to speak of it. You must bear with me for this is exceedingly uncomfortable.” She tentatively met his eyes and saw only devotion there. She took a deep breath and launched into her tale. “You must promise me, William, that you will not interrupt. This is quite difficult for me and I cannot lose my nerve or train of thought. Do you promise?”

For the first time Darcy was beginning to feel alarm. He had imagined some wedding issue that she was concerned about, but now he perceived it was more serious. Still, his trust in her was absolute so he promised without hesitation.

She began by haltingly describing her anxieties about their wedding night, her maidenly qualms of the unknown as well as her fears of disappointing him. He relaxed as she spoke. He understood her completely on this subject because he harbored the same emotions, but he was utterly confident that their love would triumph beautifully. She told him about her conversation with Mrs. Gardiner, and he had to smile. He greatly respected Lizzy’s aunt; he found her a delightful woman of superior common sense.

Lizzy described her nightmare, which he thought rather humorous except for how she depicted his reactions and the memories of the past that were conjured up. He thought they had thoroughly discussed their horrible miscomprehensions and had agreed to pardon each other. Of course, dreams could not be controlled.

She paused momentarily, then arose from the sofa. He watched her carefully and felt his alarm again increasing. She walked several feet away, keeping her eyes averted. After a huge swallow, she resumed. She told him about Mrs. Bennet’s “advice.” He saw no humor in it at all, and his countenance darkened further with each passing word. He frowned at the very notion that he would seek to “control” his Elizabeth as her mother intimated. His eyes blazed at the implication that he would ever force himself on her against her will. By the time she repeated the “producing an heir” statement, his fists were clenched and his mouth a thin line of anger.

He was rigid on the sofa, stunned beyond coherent thought, aching for Elizabeth having to endure such torture. He was livid and intensely offended. It was fortuitous that Lizzy had turned away from him, or she never would have told him the rest. When she did, Darcy reached the end of his forbearance.

“No!” he roared and jerked up from his seat, causing Elizabeth to start violently. “This is unconscionable! How could she accuse me of such a malicious falsehood! It is not to be borne!” Darcy was beside himself with wrath. “Elizabeth, you surely do not lend any credence to this… this… filth?”

Lizzy was terrified. She had rarely witnessed Darcy so furious. “William… I…”

Something in her face brought him up short and he looked at her in horror. Suddenly bereft of the air necessary for speech, he could only gasp, “You do!”

He turned away from her, and it was her nightmare coming true. She had to think! She approached him slowly and placed her hand gently on his arm, feeling his tension. “William, you must listen to me.” She spoke very softly. “I know you are not the man my mother says you are. I know you love me and would never hurt me. Ours is a relationship and a love far superior to my parents’. I am confident in this.”

She could perceive a slight easing of his rigidity as she spoke, although he still had not looked at her. She went on, her voice breaking, “You must appreciate that there is so much I do not know about your world—or about you for that matter. You must help me to understand, William, please!”

He sighed deeply and finally relaxed, running his hand over his face. He turned to her then and took her face into his hands, wiping her tears. “Forgive me for my outburst, beloved. It was inexcusable.”

He kissed her tenderly and held her close to his chest until their trembling ceased. “You are absolutely correct, dearest. I must help you to understand. This will be painful for me, and awkward, so now it is my turn to beg your patience and ask you listen uninterrupted. Can you do this?”

“You do not even need to ask, my love. Of course I will.”

They returned to the sofa. Darcy leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, and was silent for a long while. Lizzy waited patiently. Slowly he began to speak.

“My earliest childhood memories of my parents are of love.” His deep voice was soft, barely above a whisper. “Love toward me and later for Georgiana, naturally. Love for their families and friends. Love for Pemberley and Derbyshire and all the many people whose lives depend on us.”

He paused briefly and sighed deeply. “Mostly, though, it is their love for each other that is etched into my mind. When I was very young I took it for granted, did not recognize it for the special emotion it was. All I knew is that they somehow were happier when they were together. Each of their faces would light up when the other entered a room. They were forever touching each other. Not inappropriately, mind you, but in little ways. Doors, which should have been open during the daylight hours, would be inexplicably locked. Sometimes in the middle of the day, they would both simply disappear to return later with a glow on their faces.”

He blushed slightly as he revealed these private events. “Naturally I did not understand any of it until much, much later. Once, when I was perhaps nine or ten, I entered the parlor to see my mother sitting on my father’s lap and they were kissing in a way I had never seen before. They did not see me and I left abruptly. I went directly to Mrs. Reynolds and told her what I had witnessed. I was not disturbed by it but simply curious. She laughed and told me it was perfectly natural and that someday I would understand.” He smiled. “Then she said, ‘In the future, Master Fitzwilliam, you would be wise to knock before entering a room,’ and I always did.”

Darcy’s smile left his face and he swallowed before continuing. “When I was almost twelve, Georgiana was born. My mother had been ill throughout her confinement and Georgiana’s birth was a difficult one. My mother almost died and, in fact, was close to death for several weeks afterward. My father was beside himself.

“I had come to rely on his temperate nature, implacable steadfastness, and seriousness. He was the type of man who could handle any crisis with wisdom and incredible patience. This is not merely a child’s hero worship, Elizabeth; everyone declared this about him. He could not handle this, though. I do not think he slept more than a few hours at a time for weeks. I saw something in his face I had never seen before: fear. Fear of losing my mother.”

Elizabeth knew she had promised not to interrupt, but she could not resist moving a bit closer and taking his hand. He squeezed her hand gratefully and met her eyes, smiling slightly.

“My mother did recover, and life, for the most part, returned to how it had been. She was weaker, more fragile than previously. My father hovered over her and, if possible, was extra attentive. Over the next years I puzzled over their relationship. I was still young but, always precocious, demanded knowledge on subjects that were often beyond my comprehension. My father encouraged this thirst for education on my part. My mother and Mrs. Reynolds endeavored, in vain, to make me laugh more, not to be so serious all the time.”

He looked at Elizabeth with a twinkle in his eyes. “At Netherfield, when you teased me about being proud and said how you dearly loved to laugh, it was as if my mother were in the room putting the words on your lips. You are very like her, Elizabeth. Your wit is perhaps more caustic and sharp, but she found humor in the smallest things, as you do.” He took a moment to caress her cheek and gave a brief kiss.

“I digress, however. As I said, I was curious. I observed the behaviors of the other married couples we knew. Some, like my uncle, Lord Matlock, and my aunt, obviously cared for and respected each other. Others, especially my Aunt Catherine and Uncle Louis, quite clearly despised each other. People marry for many reasons: security, position, lust, furtherance of the line. None of these reasons bring true happiness, as my parents possessed.

“All through my life, I have been inquisitive on this subject, and many others, truth be told. Mrs. Reynolds will delight in telling you stories, I am sure.” He smiled wryly. “Rarely have I found a marriage like my parents were blessed with. In each case it has been a wonder to behold. Even when I was far too young to comprehend it all, I vowed that I would have a marriage as my parents did.”

Again he paused and seemed to gather his strength and thoughts. He leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. Still holding Elizabeth’s hand, he continued, “When I was seventeen, my mother died. After the funeral, my father retreated to his room, and we did not see him for a month.

“When he emerged he was a changed man. Gone were the light in his eyes and the quick smile. He had aged overnight. He never fully recovered and only Georgiana could reach him. A sensible man would doubtless regard my father’s grief as vindication for avoiding such an all-consuming love. I suppose that means I am not a sensible man, because it only heightened my resolve.”

He arose and walked to the window, peering outside but not actually seeing. “I left Pemberley for Cambridge when I was eighteen. There I was exposed to an entirely different world. The education I relished and embraced. Learning is like breathing to me, and I loved every moment. Socially, I was a wreck.”

He laughed and smiled at Elizabeth. “I am quite positive you are not astounded by this confession!” She laughed as well and shook her head.

“I was incredibly naïve, my love. My existence until then had been a sheltered one. Pemberley is isolated and Lambton small. My parents did not care for Town and my mother was frequently too ill to travel, so I had minimal exposure to society. Now I was thrust into it and I was overwhelmed. To this day, I do not make friends easily, nor do I enjoy a number of the entertainments that the college crowd engaged in, especially drinking and carousing. Many young men, Mr. Wickham for example, deem such pastimes as the primary purpose for attending University. I did not. I was there for an education, and my leisure was spent in quieter pursuits, such as billiards, chess, fencing, and, as always, riding. I gravitated toward gentlemen who were of like mind. My cousin Richard, Colonel Fitzwilliam as he would later become, was my primary companion.”

“As for the ladies…” Darcy paused, and Elizabeth could discern how uncomfortable he was with the topic, so she said nothing. In time he continued, but refused to look at her. “I would be lying, Elizabeth, if I claim to have consciously made a vow of chastity. I did not. I was a young man with longings that I wished to gratify, but I refused to selfishly slake my appetites in a demeaning manner. My father had raised me to be a better man than that, and the excellent example of my parents’ relationship was never far from my thoughts. I do not know what I thought the ‘acceptable’ situation would be outside of the sanctity of marriage, but it never occurred. I will not say it was easy, Elizabeth, but this is the truth of it.”

“Also, I was appalled at the attitude of some men, Wickham and his ilk. They bragged about their sexual exploits and were lewd, crass, and ungentlemanly. There was nary a hint of affection or regard for the women involved. They justified their actions, naturally, by pointing out that the women were of low station or immoral. It made no sense to me. Were not they as immoral and low if they partook in such base activity? Also, many of the women were not those who were for hire. It became a game among some to hunt down and seduce certain ladies, servants and the like, and then to boast of the conquest. I was disgusted and refused to be party to it.”

“My years at Cambridge passed, and I was extraordinarily happy there. By the time I left, still virtuous, I had for the most part mastered the forbearance and temperance that is innate in my character, which I inherited from my father.”

Darcy began pacing, head bent as he spoke further. “I returned to Pemberley. Not two months later my father collapsed. It was totally unexpected. His heart, the physicians said. One week later he had died and I, at two and twenty and utterly unprepared, was Master of Pemberley and guardian to a grieving eleven-year-old sister.”

“There truly is not a word in the King’s English to describe how overwhelming my life became for the next year or so. Mrs. Reynolds completely took over the management of the household staff and upkeep. My father’s steward, Mr. Wickham the elder, was a remarkable man. Without them, I believe Pemberley would have folded. Tragically, Mr. Wickham also passed a scant six months later. Fortunately, I had been an apt pupil. My uncle, Lord Matlock, assisted me tremendously and aided me in replacing Mr. Wickham with my current steward, Mr. Keith. Eventually I was able to breathe again and believed I could actually succeed in my new position.

“Then London Society came calling.” His voice held a tone of disgust and bitterness. “New demands were placed on my shoulders, demands I wanted no part of, yet knew I had to accept. Elizabeth, I judge you do not yet appreciate what an agony it is for me. I am fully aware that interacting with society is my responsibility, but I so despise it. It is not just my own shyness and lack of proper social skills, although that certainly is a major part of it. It is the insincerity, the deceitfulness, the affected friendliness of the ton that repulses me. Few pure souls can be found and the women are the worst.

“London is replete with Caroline Bingleys. Women who held me in high favor because of who I was: the perfect ‘catch’ worth 10,000 a year. I am not a fool. I knew that none of them cared for me but only for my wealth and position. Married women, in the boredom and loneliness of empty marriages, offered themselves to me as a diversion. I was revolted.

“With each passing year, as I knew it was expected of me to marry, I despaired of ever finding a woman who would give me what I so urgently wanted and needed. I trusted none of them, even the few who piqued my interest. I began to believe that I would never have what my parents had, and I grew so bitter and so very weary of the search.

“Yet, at the same time, it hardened my resolve. If I could not find what I wanted, then I would not marry at all. I am a profoundly obstinate man, my love, if you have not realized that already! Once I set a course, I am loyal to it. If I was so fortunate and blessed to find love, then I would be devoted, faithful, and enduringly thankful until the day I died.”

He stopped pacing and looked at Elizabeth. For a long time he gazed upon her beloved face and she tenderly gazed back. She hoped that her love for him, her pleasure in all that he had shared with her, was visible on her countenance. Finally, he returned and knelt before her, taking her hands in his firm grip.

“My dearest, precious Elizabeth. I have saved myself for you, even before I knew who you were. As trite as that sounds, it is the truth, and I do not merely mean in the intimate realm of our relationship. My principles, my pride perhaps, would not allow me to consider giving myself to anyone less than the woman I would love and marry. Even in my despair of ever finding you, I still clung to the idea that you existed. You had to exist! I simply needed to be patient. Call me a hopeless romantic!”

He chuckled softly and gently touched her cheek as she beheld him with absolute love and dedication. “My decision to wait for you, physically and emotionally and spiritually, was a worthy one. I know that we will be wonderful together, in every possible way, as husband and wife. I will never, ever want anything or anyone more than I want you! Elizabeth, my heart, you must know that and believe me.”

She smiled at him and gently stroked his hands. Tears were coursing down her cheeks, and she could hardly speak. “I do, William. Thank you for sharing your life with me, past, present, and future. Thank you for waiting for me.”

“You also must know, beloved, that I would never force myself upon you in any way. Your wishes, needs, and desires are of paramount importance to me. I sincerely hope that our relationship will never come to a point where we do not desire each other’s company, but you must understand that I will always respect you and would never want to cause you harm or pain in any way. Elizabeth…”

She stopped his words with her fingers then leaned forward to place a gentle, chaste kiss upon his lips. “My darling William. I wish to please you as much as you wish to please me. Your words have eased my heart completely. I have no fears now, only the overwhelming need to show you how much I love you. Our wedding day cannot come soon enough for me!”