Longbourn to London (30 page)

Elizabeth stepped into the mistress’s room. Although it had a cheerful fire in a slightly smaller fireplace, the cream walls painted with murals of flowers were faded, and not to her taste even had they been fresh.
Too vivid, not soothing.
The wainscoting was lighter wood, and Elizabeth found she preferred the more masculine darker room. She felt there was too much furniture, and looked around appraisingly. “Is there a dressing table in the next room?”

Mrs. Chawton stepped back and nodded to Sarah to answer the question. “Yes, Mrs. Darcy,” she said in a low insecure voice. “And the one next door has a larger mirror.”

Elizabeth walked back into the master’s room and noted there was a bookcase. She came back to the mistress’s room.
No bookcase, and
w
hy all the side chairs?
She counted six. “Did Mr. Darcy’s mother use this as a sitting room?”

Mrs. Chawton shook her head to indicate a negative response was in order, prompting Sarah to reply, “No, ma’am.”

“What do you think, Mrs. Darcy?” Darcy thought this room confining, and he could see she put her finger exactly on the problem. He was pleased.

“Perhaps there is no need for a dressing table in this room if there is a better one just a few steps away? And I see no need for so many side chairs when there is a settee facing the fire and a bench at the end of the bed. Mrs. Chawton, I do think I would like a bookcase in here later.” Elizabeth looked at Darcy. “Would it be too much to ask that the chairs and dressing table be removed whilst we eat? It feels crowded.” There was another vase of roses on the table by the settee. Elizabeth walked to them and inhaled.

Mrs. Chawton smiled. “Easily, Mrs. Darcy.”

The party moved into the mistress’s dressing room, painted a peculiar shade of coral, now faded. Elizabeth wished it were a soothing pale green or blue. In one corner, as in Mr. Darcy’s dressing room, there was new tile with a rather large tin bathtub, the equal of its copper twin in the other dressing room. Elizabeth peeked behind a screen to see a tufted stool, a clothes rack, a commode, and a metal washstand with a side shelf holding neatly folded towelling.

Elizabeth walked back into her bedroom and noted tables on either side of the bed, and matching washstands. There were also chamber pots just visible on either side of the bed.
I must stop blushing. It is only to be expected. Fitzwilliam and I…Mr. Darcy and I…oh, my husband and I, shall get used to each other’s…functions
. She felt a shudder of nerves. The confidence gained by Darcy’s reassuring caresses in the carriage was fast waning.

Darcy followed Elizabeth into the mistress’s bedroom but stayed standing behind her and could not tell where her eyes wandered. When she turned around, he was there. “Are you unsettled?” he whispered.

She looked at him with a rueful half-smile. “Oh, I fully expect to be a good deal more unsettled than I am now, and rather shortly, too.”

He smiled into her eyes. “I love you, Elizabeth.” He took her hand and led her to the waiting servants.

“Sarah, would you wait in the hall for just one moment? I would speak to my wife, and then we shall call you to assist her.” Sarah stepped through the hall door.

“Mrs. Chawton, you will see to the furniture removal? We shall be down to the small dining parlour, in what, Mrs. Darcy, half an hour?” Elizabeth nodded, and Mrs. Chawton walked back into the mistress’s bedroom.

***

As soon as they were alone, Darcy swept Elizabeth into a passionate embrace, holding her around the waist and kissing her hair. He took several deep breaths of her scent, then pulled back and looked at her expectant, upturned face. Her eyes were closed and her tempting lips were half parted.
If you begin kissing her now, there will be no retreat, and no dinner.
“Lizzy.”

Her eyes opened at his breathy utterance of a name he clearly intended to employ only during moments of utmost intimacy. She met his gaze.

“Lizzy, do not bathe now. And after dinner, do not undress. And most important of all, do
not
change your hair.”

“Fitzwilliam,
you
will undress me?” She asked.
It is as my aunt said— “let him!”

“Yes, I shall.”

She blinked before raising her chin bravely. “Shall I undress
you
?” she asked.
Do I dare?

“Not tonight, I think it might be the death of me after so much restraint already.” He chuckled.

Elizabeth thought of Jane’s elaborate ensemble with its complex undergarments. “Poor Mr. Bingley…” she murmured with a smile.

“Bingley?”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam”—Elizabeth laughed—“if he chooses to undress Jane, he will not finish until tomorrow at noon. She is wearing a prodigious and complex array of garments.”

Darcy joined her laughter. “At another time I would like to hear the story of how you came to be dressed in such a wonderfully
available
manner.” His hands roamed up her sides to her corset. “Short stays only?” She nodded. “I think I can manage that.”

He smiled in what she thought a rather lascivious manner. Her eyebrows rose. “You are being smug again, sir.”

“If you are planning to be more unsettled, rest assured I plan to become a great deal more smug.” He let his hands slip down to her hips before reluctantly parting. “I shall be back at this door in half an hour to fetch you for dinner. Wait for me to come to you. I would hate to lose my wife as she searched for the small dining parlour.”

He went into the hall. “She is all yours, Sarah, until I return.” He walked away and descended the stairs.

“It seems you will have little to do this evening, Sarah.” Elizabeth drew in a deep breath. “Evidently my new husband wishes to undress me and take down my hair, and he bids me not to bathe. Whatever shall we do with ourselves until dinner?”

Sarah, who was big and plain, stepped to the closest wardrobe and nodded vaguely to the door of the bedroom. “Should you need them, ma’am, your nightgowns and dressing gowns are here.”

“Perhaps I shall need at least a dressing gown…later. Let us select something and place it…next door.” Elizabeth could not quite force herself to say the word bedchamber.

“Which bedchamber, ma’am?” asked the more practical Sarah.

“Oh!” Elizabeth stopped to consider. It appeared the two rooms were equally ready for occupation. “Perhaps we need two dressing gowns, one for each?”

They looked into the wardrobe. There seemed an unnecessarily large number of night shifts and dressing gowns.

“I do not remember ordering so many, Sarah! Where did they all come from, do you know?”

“There’s some as are gifts. We have put little papers on them so’s you’ll know. There’s two negligee sets from Mrs. Gardiner and one from Mrs. Bingley— hers is the green velvet with white nightgown.”

“Dearest Jane…”

Elizabeth selected Jane’s gift for the master’s bedroom—
I shall blend right in and maybe he will lose me in there
—and a dressing gown in a lighter gauzy fabric she recalled selecting herself for the closer room. Then Elizabeth stepped behind the screen to use the commode and basin to cleanse her nether parts thoroughly since bathing was prohibited for the time being. She noticed a bottle of lavender water and opened it, dabbing it on her neck to soothe herself. She looked from behind the screen to where Sarah stood, awaiting instruction.

“Is there more lavender water, Sarah?”

“Oh, yes, ma’am. We have put all that was sent from your home into the cupboard with your nightclothes. I thought you would prefer it behind the screen. Shall I put a bottle on the dressing table? I did notice you have no other perfumes.”

“Yes, on the dressing table also, please. I take great enjoyment from making my own scents. Do you know whether there is a stillroom at Pemberley?”

“No, ma’am, I do not know. I have never been. I am part of the London staff. There’s very few as travel back and forth.”

A tap came at the door. Sarah opened it at Elizabeth’s nod, and Darcy stepped just inside. “They are ready for us.” He took her hand and turned to Sarah. “I do not believe Mrs. Darcy will need you again tonight.” All three of them coloured to varying degrees—even Darcy, despite his best intentions.

Elizabeth looked at Sarah with mock surprise. “See? I told you!”

Sarah lowered her face so her master would not see her blush further, but nevertheless, she was pleased. She
did
like Mrs. Darcy; she had worried that she would not.

“In the morning, Sarah, Mrs. Chawton will give you your orders,” Darcy said. “Do not attend us until she gives you leave to do so.” Sarah bobbed a curtsy and stepped back into the dressing room. She would be gone when they returned.

***

As Elizabeth and Darcy walked hand-in-hand to the small dining room, she noticed footmen poised to swarm the mistress’s bedroom to remove the unwanted furniture.

Darcy cast Elizabeth a sidelong glance. She was clearly growing more nervous but sought to distract herself by surveying the various details of the hall.

“Perhaps, sir, after we dine, you might give me a tour of the house?”

Darcy stopped and turned her towards him, whispering intensely, “Or perhaps not.” He noticed her scent was stronger, and moved his hands to her sides, near her breasts. “I am able to resist kissing you, Mrs. Darcy, but I cannot keep my hands away. The sooner we are closeted together, the easier it will be for the servants.” His dimples were pronounced, and his eyes were dancing. He ran his thumbs over her bosom. “It is best that I practice with these buttons behind closed doors. I feel proficiency is within my grasp if I apply myself.”

Elizabeth looked up at him, breathless. She opened her mouth to respond but could find no words.

He stood drinking in the singular moment of having a speechless Elizabeth before him.

Finally, she managed, “It is my sincere hope, perhaps sometime in the next five years, that I shall stop blushing about every little thing.”

Darcy chuckled as he embraced her, whispering in her ear, “Now where is the sport in that for me? It would be a bleak future for this marriage, indeed, if I thought you would become immune to my one seemingly innate proficiency, which is to cause your blushes. I shall know you no longer find me desirable when I can no longer raise your colour.”

“As long as you seek to ‘comfort’ me, Mr. Darcy, as I have learned is another proficiency of yours, you will have no cause for concern on my account. You already seem to be expert.”

Darcy sighed. “Mrs. Darcy, you cannot imagine how delighted I am to hear you find me so.” He leaned behind her and kissed the curls at the nape of her neck, then stepped forward. “Dinner, Mrs. Darcy.”

Glowing and again holding hands, they descended the stairs.

The first course was a light chicken and lemon cream soup, and both finished it, but as more food arrived, they became less inclined to eat. Elizabeth sat to Darcy’s left and could see the clock on the mantelpiece over his shoulder. It was not yet seven o’clock.

Darcy pushed his plate of roast duck and potatoes away, having only done any damage to the braised carrots. “Oh thank goodness,” Elizabeth said, doing the same. “If you are going to stop the pretence of appetite, I may as well.”

Darcy leaned forward and whispered, “Make no mistake, dearest wife, I most certainly do have an appetite… It happens not to include food at present.”

Elizabeth blushed and blinked at him. Darcy pushed his chair away from the table and gave her a look she had seen before. After a moment, her memory of him watching her walk with Caroline Bingley at Netherfield came to mind. The idea made her insides jump and dance.
Did he dare to think of this night, even then?

A footman started to approach, and Darcy spoke to him. “We are finished here. Please tell Cook the duck was just the way I like it, but I find I am no longer hungry tonight.” The footman nodded, bowed, and left the room with their plates.

A silence descended, which Darcy knew could be a dangerous thing. The carriage ride taught him that conversing with Elizabeth, especially if she had reason to be ill at ease, was far better than letting her mind wander. He looked over his shoulder at the clock. “Let me see…what was I doing at just after seven this morning? Oh yes, I was astride my horse and looking at a beautiful woman at her bedroom window. She was in her nightdress and I was scandalised.” He said it in a way that indicated he was not in the least scandalised.

Elizabeth brightened. “Were you out there? I had hoped you would be. You will think you have married an unrepentant wanton when I tell you this, but I fancied it would bring a lovely symmetry to the day if the first time you saw me, I was in a nightdress, and then you would sleep tonight with your last vision being that of me in a nightdress.”

“Lizzy… you are an astonishing creature.” He reached for her hand and she put it on the table for his grasp. Her innocence touched him, and he was charmed that such a chaste allusion made her feel wanton. But he had seen true and unbridled passion several times in her eyes already and was certain she would not find the nakedness he desired too shocking. His eyes burned into hers. “That is indeed a lovely fantasy. But I am afraid I am more wanton than you. Once I have undressed you”—His voice was low and full of insinuation—“and we have been in bed, if you wanted to don a nightdress and then allow me to remove it, I would comply.”