Page 62 of The Sole Love

It took him only a moment to catch her and imprison her in his arms.

“I must warn you, should you continue to play this sort of game before we are wed, that I shall probably lose all self-control, rip every garment from your body, and love you as I have dreamed of doing every moment of the day and night since we first met.”

Chapter 25

The morning of the wedding, as she waited for her maid to come and help her dress, Elizabeth looked in the mirror and reflected on the day…and night…to come. They would fight a good deal, she was certain, but they would also love each other passionately.

She did not yet understand what it meant to be wealthy. When, two weeks earlier, a dressmaker had come from Nottingham, she had selected two gowns. Darcy took her aside and said that she needed at least ten gowns and pelisses and “…many multiples of everything.”

“I cannot possibly do such a thing,” she said.

“My dear”—he was amused, but she could also see respect in his eyes—“I know little about Elizabeth Bennet’s financial situation, but Elizabeth Darcy will be rich—very rich.”

Another time, she had fearfully asked him, “Is this property entailed?” He did not laugh at her question, as he understood the constant worry she must have endured since she was old enough to understand her family’s situation.

“No, my love. It is mine and yours forever.”

“And Georgiana’s?”

“Georgiana has her own fortune—which is why we must be very careful when she chooses her husband.”

He hesitated a moment before asking, “But if we needed to divide our wealth with her, would you be agreeable?”

Elizabeth gasped, surprised by such a silly question. “Of course, I—”

Before she could say more, he took her in his arms. Later, as they strolled in the park, he said, “Your answer…about Georgiana…made me realise that we must do something for your unmarried sisters, to give each of them a substantial dowry.”

∞∞∞

While the maid arranged her coiffure, a familiar knock at the door made her pause.

“Come,” said Elizabeth, knowing it was Darcy.

He smiled at them. “Sarah, please give me five minutes with your mistress.”

He had a box in his hand, making Elizabeth raise an eyebrow.

“Are there to be many such boxes?”

“Yes, my love, that is likely.”

The white case held a delicate tiara, a single strand of diamonds that perfectly complemented her hairstyle.

He helped her stand and gazed at her. She wore only a dressing gown, but it covered her completely, while his imagination supplied the missing details.

“You know what is going to happen?” he asked.

She smiled and nodded. “I shall not eat my wedding cake,” she jested.

“You see? We understand each other without words. It is one of the reasons I am marrying you.”

And he was gone before she could discover his other reasons.

The question remained with her as she left the carriage with the aid of the colonel and her father, and she wondered about it as she walked down the aisle. But when she arrived at the altar, Darcy’s eyes revealed the truth.

He was happy, proud, and overwhelmed by her appearance. He loved her mind and her body, and the freedom with which she lived her life. He loved her moods and her smiles; however, he would have needed considerably more time to enumerate everything he adored about her.

“I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, take thee, Elizabeth Bennet, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”