Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (40 page)

“William—”

“Miss Elizabeth, I am sor—”
Pressing his lips into a hard line, he shook his head. Finally lifting his gaze
to meet her concerned eyes, he rushed on. “I love you. Please remember this. I
shall pray you sleep well and for your shopping expedition on the morrow to be
fruitful. As it pleases you and accommodates your schedule, I will be awaiting
your return for the thorough tour of Darcy House I promised.”

“That will be the high point of my
day,
William
,” she stressed, staring directly into his eyes. Then she
lifted his fingers to her lips, kissing gently. “I love you as much.
You
remember
that
. Until tomorrow, then.”

* 
*  *

The Bennet daughters woke in the
morning of their first full day in London with wide smiles, and briskly
launched out of their beds. Today would commence the serious shopping for their
wedding gowns and bridal trousseaux! In no time at all, hasty breakfasts and
speedy toilettes were completed, and they were out the door with Mrs. Gardiner
gaily leading the way and Mr. Bennet grumpily trailing behind. The driver made
for the finer shopping areas in London where, Mrs. Gardiner insisted, the
essentials her nieces required for the elevated stations they were marrying
into must be obtained. As they rode down the streets lined with glass-fronted
shops crammed with merchandise and edged with sidewalks crowded with elegantly
dressed people, all their previous chatter, teasing, and list making felt
pointless. Imagining had not prepared them for the reality. Mr. Bennet was
already pale, undoubtedly from the anticipation of how much of his money would
be spent!

Fortunately, as a way to ease into
the expedition, their aunt had set an appointment for that morning with her
modiste. “After all,” she declared firmly, “the selection of your wedding gowns
is of prime importance.”

In her late thirties, the modiste,
Mrs. Carter, possessed higher than average talent at designing, and her crew of
seamstresses were skilled, yet her shop was ordinary and prices reasonable. The
latter especially pleased Mr. Bennet, who then waved farewell in relief,
leaving them with their aunt for several hours. The vast selection of styles,
fabrics, laces, ribbons, and the like was delightful, if a bit overwhelming.
Eventually, she and Jane settled on wedding gowns fancier than any dress they
had ever owned, yet suited to their individual tastes of simplicity and
modesty.

All in all, the session was
enjoyable. The one surprise came at the reaction from the dressmaker to the
name Mr. Darcy. Her eyes had bulged, mouth dropped, and for a minute or two,
she was speechless. Then she had sent her assistants scurrying for the
costliest fabrics and trimmings in the place, and been stricken with renewed
muteness when Lizzy insisted that was not her desire. The whole episode was
bizarre, and Lizzy’s expression must have revealed her bewilderment because her
aunt laughed and squeezed her hand.

“My innocent Lizzy! Even after
touring Pemberley and visiting Darcy House, do you remain unaware of Mr.
Darcy’s importance?”

“I know he is…rich,” she whispered
the word, “of course, and with money comes power and distinction, I grant, but
this?” She jerked her chin toward the still-twittering Mrs. Carter.

“There is wealth, my dear, and
there are those who wield power. Mr. Darcy falls into the latter category to be
sure. As valuable as that stature is, of greater worth are those who add
dignity, character, ancestry, solidity, and similar vaunted English qualities
to the wealth and power inherited. Then, one has a name instantly recognized as
you have now witnessed.”

Nothing more was said, and soon the
fun of measuring and being draped with yards of cloth took precedence. Lizzy
remembered her aunt’s words, however, and frequently dwelt upon them in the
month to come. 

With most of the morning consumed
at the modiste, they only had time to visit a handful of shops before Jane and
Lizzy separated for their afternoon invitations. Mr. Gardiner had volunteered
to escort Jane to meet Mr. Bingley at his townhouse on Hill Street, in the
Mayfair District. Mr. Bennet served as Lizzy’s chaperone. Secretly, she
suspected the arrangement had more to do with her father’s curiosity with the
Darcy House library than any favoritism for her or Mr. Darcy. Nevertheless, she
was pleased to have him with her.

The Bennet carriage rattled over
the cobblestones of Oxford Street, passing one stunning townhouse after
another. Lizzy’s eyes darted up, down, and side to side, as they had all day
while driving through the high-end shopping areas. She had been to London a
handful of times in her life but dwelt with the Gardiners in Cheapside and had
only skirted the wealthier districts. Bypassing Kensington and approaching
Grosvenor Square awarded her an entirely new perspective of the life she was
marrying into.

Last night, she had sat in a
cramped carriage while darkness rapidly fell, the artificial illumination from
gaslight and smoldering lamps ineffective in dispelling all the shadows bathing
the grand townhouses. Yet even with limited vision, the splendor of Grosvenor
Square and Darcy House had taken her breath away. The impact on a sunny day was
unimaginable, and her excitement boosted her sagging energy from the busy
morning. Further invigorating was the prospect of wandering through rooms that,
in about a month, she would call home. Lizzy attempted to wrap her mind around
that fact, as she constantly did with Pemberley, and met with minimal success.
The reality of precisely how radically her life would change as Mrs. Darcy,
with the expectations and duties thrust upon her narrow shoulders, was easy to
shove aside when in his adoring company in provincial Meryton. In London,
especially after seeing Darcy House and the modiste’s reaction, she felt
twinges of nervousness creeping in.

Knowing William would be at her
side today, and forever, was comforting. That vision was vitalizing while
adding to her nervousness.

“Lizzy, you have nothing to worry
about. You are my clever, capable daughter. The girl who once chastised an
angry bull and memorized Act Five, Scene Two of
Love’s Labour’s Lost
just because Lydia dared you can handle any challenge set before her. Including
being Mrs. Darcy.”

“I do pray you are correct, Papa.
It is a different life than I have lived for twenty years.” She accented her
statement with a nod toward the window she stared out of, the houses increasing
in size and ornamentation.

“In some ways, maybe that is true.
Nevertheless, my opinion is you are selling yourself short, Lizzy.” She turned
her eyes to her father, attentive as he went on. “Mr. Darcy sees your
capability, even if it took him a while to do so. Moreover, he cares deeply for
you so will help you along the way. That said, the main reason you will succeed
admirably is because you have watched your mother for twenty years. Just do the
opposite of that.”

“Oh, Papa!” She shook her head,
laughing. Mr. Bennet’s grin and humorous advice lifted her spirits to a great
degree. Of course, she could not tell him that a portion of her nervousness at
the present had to do with what had occurred the night before.

Reliving her encounter with William
on the terrace—as she had endlessly all night and morning—was the
real reason her insides were coiled in a knot. The kiss and the sensations of
embracing his body were, quite simply, the most deliriously joyful five minutes
of her life! Instantly, she recalled the taste of him on her tongue, the
pressure of his mouth and insistent hands, the sound of his ragged
respirations, the heated smell of his cologne, and the glaze of desire flooding
his eyes. There was no shame or fear in how William made her feel or in how she
obviously made him feel. Her only regret from their interlude was that she
stupidly walked away with her father rather than following William into the
shadows. Over and over, she envisioned the expanse of darkness, sure that they
could have carried on their blissful intimacy for a while longer before forced
to return to the parlor.

Then she remembered his reaction.
The guilt and shame that was stark on his face. The wall of awkwardness sensed
the rest of the evening. And worst was the apology he started to give before
she left.

What, precisely, had he wanted to
apologize for? The kiss? For becoming aroused while holding the woman he was
soon to marry? For leaving her to face her father? Could he honestly think for
a second that Mr. Bennet seeing the state he was in would be better than
disappearing? Or was it all of these points and more?

Luckily the carriage turned the
corner, off Duke Street and onto Grosvenor Square, halting further conflicting
musings. There, before her eyes, was Darcy House, and Lizzy sucked in her
breath.

Though tiny compared to the
vastness of Pemberley, it was still majestic. Constructed of polished white
stone that glowed in the sunlight, each of the five bays on the lower level
contained tall, multipaned windows allowing beams of light into the house.
Dozens of wide windows cut into the flat surface of the upper floors. Flowers
bloomed from boxes underneath each window. Ornate iron fencing barricaded the
passageway to the basement service areas and curved elegantly up the steps
before the gleaming, blue entryway doors.

“It is so beautiful,” Lizzy
whispered.

“Yes,” Mr. Bennet agreed, “but it
is just a house. One with a reputedly fine library, I hasten to add.”

“I have a suspicion you will enter
that room and need to be physically evicted. We best make sure to go there
after
luncheon.” Lizzy squeezed his hand and kissed his cheek.

Mr. Darcy and Miss Darcy waited in
the foyer exactly as they had the night before. Lizzy’s eyes immediately swung
to her fiancé, noting as she always did how handsome he was and striking his
figure. As detected last evening, there was a distinct difference to his
bearing. He seemed to dominate the space more than his stature and presence
typically did, which was significant no matter where he was. She surmised it
was because, here, he was the master. Here, he was at home and fully cognizant
of his place in Society. He wore the aura of power quite well, and Lizzy’s
insides thrilled in response.

He was also stiffly proper. This,
she could not decide how to decipher. Was it normal? Or was it the result of
nervousness?

Smiling politely, he kissed her
hand and greeted with the common phrases of welcome and pleasure to see her.
Searching his eyes, Lizzy felt the warmth and adoration, yet he too quickly
looked away. All through lunch, he maintained an attitude that skated the edges
of formality and congeniality without dipping one way or the other with
consistency. She honestly questioned her perspective, wondering if she was
fretting where there was nothing to fret about, but the sporadic odd reactions
from her father and Miss Darcy confirmed something was amiss.

Despite this, lunch passed with no
mishaps and conversation was light. Miss Darcy was especially gay, so the two young
women kept the discourse lively. Immediately upon vacating the table, the tour
of Darcy House began, heading up the curving staircase to the upper floors.

The first and second stories
primarily consisted of uniquely decorated bedchambers with attached dressing
areas. Each were comfortable, luxurious, and modern. At the present, the only
occupied suite was Georgiana’s. It was the largest and included a cozy sitting
room with an old harpsichord she informed had belonged to her mother. The next
biggest bedchamber did not have the empty sensation most of the others did, and
there was a decidedly masculine quality to the decor.

“This suite is reserved for Colonel
Fitzwilliam.” Darcy stood close enough to Lizzy that she felt his breath on her
neck and could smell his cologne, but he did not meet her eyes when she turned
her head. “When in Town, he usually dwells at his apartment near the barracks.
If he has no choice due to his work, that is,” Darcy explained, laughing
shortly. “The colonel much prefers the luxury found here or at the Matlock
townhouse. It depends on who is in London at the given time, but he seems to
stay here mostly—probably due to the superior-grade liquor and the dart
board.”

“He shows up on our doorstep like a
lost puppy.” Georgiana sighed dramatically. “Tragic soul. How can we resist?”

At the top of the stairs leading
back to the ground level, they completed their circuit by entering a set of
double doors recessed into the wall directly across from the landing. As Lizzy
predicted, it was the billiard room. A necessity in a Darcy household, the room
included a host of gaming entertainments, including a spectacular billiard
table and the aforementioned dartboard. Clearly designed with the male sex in
mind, the room was rich with dark woods, brown leather chairs and sofas, and a
dark gray carpet. It was a narrow room, extending to the rear of the upper
floor, where tall windows spanning the width allowed blazing sunlight in.

“I see the benefit of the
location.” Lizzy indicated the staircase and polished wood balustrade outside
the open doors. “Easy to access for entertaining.”

“Indeed, that was the design, as is
the location of the ballroom. Shall we?”

Descending the stairs once again,
Darcy led the way to a room encompassing one corner of the ground floor, the
doors exactly like the ones to the game room and diagonal from the lower
landing. Although a fourth the size of Pemberley’s, the ballroom was stunning.
Dark oak boards, thickly varnished, contrasted beautifully with the gold and
cream walls. The sunlight streaming through a bank of windows along the back
wall shimmered on the glossy surfaces, dazzling the eye. How the shine from the
three crystal chandeliers and dozen wall sconces would warm the ambience at
night was a vision Lizzy longed to behold.