Page 69 of Midnight at Pemberley

A few minutes later, from the protection of the corral, he watched Miss Lucas make her way to the village’s center. The woman was sharp intellectually, but extremely common in her features. He suspected, however, she would make someone a good wife. The plain ones always did. Sometimes he regretted not having chosen a woman such as Miss Lucas, but he had fallen in love with Lady Ellender D’Arcy, a striking beauty like none other—a witty, sensual woman—indulged and pampered—elegant and arrogant. He loved her still, but she had never returned his regard. Seorais Winchcombe lacked the breeding—lacked the name. Lady Ellender D’Arcy decided on Arawn Benning, a man with a title. It still pained him to think upon how she had betrayed him. Lady Ellender doomed him to a life of fiendish desires and ghoulish hunger. With a nod of resignation, he set out for Longbourn. It was time to call on the Bennets.

Although he watched Longbourn for two days, the Bennet girls strayed no farther than the gravel walk that led to the copse. During his vigil, he had decided on the youngest, Miss Lydia. Although he found her continuous chatter and flirtations annoying, Miss Lydia would make an easy mark, for she was gullible, unsophisticated, and foolish. He noted with approval that Miss Lydia was a friend to Colonel Forster’s new wife. Earlier, disguised as a stray dog, he eavesdropped on their conversation.

“Good heavens! What is to become of us?” she exclaimed with girlish woe to Mrs. Forster.

“Whatever do you mean, my dear?”

Lydia whined, “My sisters still pursue the usual course of their employments, but I take no pleasure in such pursuits. I would prefer a ball every night for entertainment. Papa is so cruel!”

“Do not fret. If you wish, I will ask Colonel Foster to speak to Mr. Bennet. Surely my husband can convince your father to permit you to accompany me to the Christmas festivities. The colonel will vouch for your safety.”

Lydia said wistfully, “Oh, I do hope so!”

He withdrew before they spotted him. He held a means to claim Miss Lydia Bennet. He would pretend to be a gentleman caller, so he might learn the details of the military celebration. Only a few more days and the happy situation for the Darcys would change dramatically.

Elizabeth enjoyed the prospect from the dining room. Every disposition of the ground was a delight, and she looked on the whole scene—the river, the trees scattered on its banks, and the winding of the valley, as far as she could trace it. The rooms at Pemberley were lofty and handsome, and the furniture suitable to the fortune of its owner. She noted, with admiration, that Mr. Darcy’s taste was neither gaudy nor uselessly fine. There was more real elegance than she anticipated.

From behind, Darcy wrapped her in his arms. “Dare I ask your thoughts?” he inquired.

His voice—rumbling and masculine—stirred her. Instinctively, Elizabeth sealed her spine to his front, enjoying his warmth along her back. “Just taking in the view of your land and thinking of this place,” she spoke with disbelief, “of which I am to be mistress.” She turned in his arms, burying her face in his chest. “At Darcy House, I stood a chance of being an acceptable wife, but how am I to be so here?”

He argued, “I am away from Pemberley for months at a time, but the estate continues to function without my presence.”

“Then you have no need of me!” she wailed.

Darcy chuckled. “I did not consider whether you could run my household when I became obsessed with kissing your luscious lips.” To prove his point, he raised her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

When they separated, she said, “At your club, they will ask, Mr. Darcy, how is your new wife? And you will reply, She is a terrible mistress of my estate, but Mrs. Darcy has more compelling charms.”

Darcy smiled wickedly. “I did not say your charms were compelling.”

Elizabeth attempted to escape his hold, but her husband held tight. “You are a true blackguard!” she retorted hotly.

“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he teased, holding her tightly to him. Darcy cupped her face, turning it to him. “Elizabeth, I married you because I require you beyond what is reasonable.”

“For what do you require of me, Mr. Darcy?” Her lips assumed a slight pout.

“You are the one to whom I turn when I require reason or when I seek courage. I require your kiss. Your touch. Your empathy. I relish the excitement I view in your eyes when you practice fencing or when riding Ceres or waltzing. With you, I feel alive, and only you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, can bring me such contentment. I could hire someone to run the estate, but no one could take your place. Do you not understand that?”

She blushed. “Yes, William, I understand.You do not require a mistress for your estate, but you do require a fencing partner, a riding mate, and someone with whom to dance.”

“Do not forget I require someone to kiss.” He gently brushed his lips across hers.

Elizabeth provocatively walked her fingers up his chest before grasping his lapels. “Then if I am to be your playmate, Mr. Darcy, play on.” She caught his hair and pulled his head closer.

Darcy claimed her mouth possessively. “Elizabeth,” he murmured, “you are everything.” His fingers traced the indentation of her neck, caressing it before scraping his nail across his favorite spot. “It is the middle of the afternoon,” he whispered before sucking her ear lobe, “and I can think of nothing but touching you.”

“Ah, you enjoy my femininity” she whispered.

“Femininity?” Darcy rasped. He sucked gently upon the spot where her neck and collarbone met.

Elizabeth leaned her head back to welcome his continued possession. “That is what my uncle calls it when he kisses Aunt Madelyn as such.”

She recognized when he understood her words. “Your Aunt Madelyn?”

Elizabeth enjoyed taking him by surprise. “Aunt Madelyn wears a scarf to cover Uncle’s love making.”

“And how, Mrs. Darcy, would you know those details?” Darcy sounded both suspicious and amused.