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“No. Except for my association with Papa and Jane, my surname holds painful memories. I care not what is on the license. My only desire is to be Elizabeth Darcy.”

“And you do not mind marrying on such short notice? I do not want to rush you or make you do anything you do not—”

Soft lips, driven into his, erased every syllable of William’s speech from his memory as he succumbed to her spell. Their bodies melting into each other as Elizabeth ran her hands over his chest, eager to touch him, she began unbuttoning his waistcoat. At the same time, William traced the curve of her spine with his fingers before sliding them down to the soft roundness of her bottom. With a groan, he pulled her hips tight against his, lifting her slightly so she could feel his growing hardness.

“Oh, Elizabeth!” William gasped, as he scattered hot, wet kisses to her ear, down her neck and across her décolletage. There he tugged the neckline of her dress down a bit, attempting to savour even more of her soft skin. “Tell me to stop!”

Instead, she responded even more passionately. Having succeeded in unbuttoning his shirt, she ran soft hands over his bare chest, and it was with great effort that William remembered that they were only one door away from a roomful of people. Pushing her to arm’s length, he pleaded hoarsely, “Please, darling, let me regain control of myself!”

Nonetheless, seeing the desire in her ebony eyes, his lips claimed hers again. At length he broke the embrace, pulling her across the room towards an overstuffed chair. Roughly, he sat down, drawing her into his lap and clutching her so tightly she could scarcely draw breath. For some time he sat with his head buried in the crook of her neck, both of them listening to his laboured breathing. Once it returned to normal, William lifted his head and pulled her forward so he could kiss the tip of her nose.

“Do you have any idea how much I love you? How much I desire you?”

Tears pooled in her eyes. “As much as I love and desire you.”

Their lips could not stay parted, and they met again, but this time the kiss was gentle. “If we are to marry today, I must leave you to prepare.” Elizabeth nodded. “I shall ask if there is a maid who can help you dress.” Suddenly, he drew back to look at her. “Will you mind not having a proper dress?”

Shaking her head vigorously, she kissed him lightly, eliciting a small groan. “As long as you are the groom, I care not for the trappings.”

His response was a passionate kiss. He ran his tongue inside her mouth, exploring every inch of the velvety surface before her tongue began to duel his. Close to losing control again, William quit the kiss and stood, causing her to slide off his lap. He caught hold of her, bringing her into a tight embrace and rubbing his arousal against her, smiling roguishly.

“If I do not leave this instant, I shall take you here and now, and Mr. Williamson’s preparations will be for naught!”

Elizabeth giggled as he pulled her with him to the door. With a very quick kiss, he exited, closing the door behind him. She was still staring at it when a soft knock drew her attention. Opening it, she expected to find William, but instead, found the proprietor’s wife, smiling from ear to ear.

~~~*~~~

Abby Barnwell was a very refined looking woman. She dressed in gowns that were more elegant than was customary for an innkeeper’s wife, and she had an air about her that mirrored her upbringing as a gentleman’s daughter. Though she was still quite handsome at fifty, there was noticeable grey in her dark brown hair. Her green eyes, however, twinkled with genuine friendliness and concern. Over the years, she had made preparations for many weddings, the Barnwell’s personal parlour having been the site of many a ceremony among their family and friends, and she was determined that the small event she now supervised would be perfect—or as perfect as could be had on such short notice.

As she surveyed the still elegant space, she sighed to think of how things had changed. Her family had once been of Mr. Darcy’s circle before her father had lost everything by gambling and had run off leaving them penniless. In fact, George Darcy, a Cambridge classmate of her father, Martin Burris, had helped her mother purchase this old manor and turn it into a boarding house so that they would have an income.

Now, examining her handiwork—the polished silver, the linens and flowers—Mrs. Barnwell smiled. Fitzwilliam Darcy probably did not know their connection, especially since they had changed the name of the establishment when she and Mr. Barnwell married. If he did, he had never given any indication of it. After all, he was just a small child when it happened whereas she was a young woman. But with her mother’s constant talk of Mr. Darcy’s intervention, Mrs. Barnwell would never forget and being aware of their connection, she was determined to partially repay his father’s benevolence by hosting a wedding for his son.

“Finish with that silver now, Margaret!” she prodded one of the maids. “There is no reason the candelabrums should not shine as bright as the mirrors. Did Maddie find the vases for the flowers?”

“Yes, madam,” the younger girl answered. “She is putting them in water, and then she is going to bring the linens for the tables. The pianoforte has already been dusted. Will you be playing some wedding music?”

“I believe I may, if the couple would like it.” She smiled thinking of the times she had heard her mother talk of entertaining guests in this very room. “I have not played nearly enough this last year, so I shall practice the pieces quickly, if you do not object to listening.”

She did just that, to Margaret and Maddie’s delight, since the older maid returned in time to hear as well. After several minutes, it was evident that she still remembered the beautiful songs she had played for the last wedding. Satisfied, Mrs. Barnwell headed to the door.

“I must see how Carrie is coming with the gown, if Cook has finished the cake and how Aggie is managing with the cottage. Now, keep busy, girls! We have only until seven o’clock!”

As their mistress exited the room, the two maids giggled, Maddie declaring, “One would think the Mistress was marrying off her own daughter the way she is carrying on!”

“She even brought the young miss over to the family’s rooms to get dressed. Well, we had better hurry,” Margaret noted, placing one of the clean linen runners on the sideboard. “She will be back before we know it, wanting to know why we have not finished!”

A bedroom in the private quarters

Elizabeth stood on a small stool as the maid went around pinning up the hem of her dress—or rather, the dress Mrs. Barnwell had found for her. Upon learning that she did not have a decent dress in which to be married, the kind proprietor had insisted that she try on a satin and lace confection that once belonged to her daughter. Elizabeth had to admit that it was certainly lovelier than any of the muslin frocks that she had stuffed into her bag.

“My Pauline wore it only once! She outgrew all her clothes the summer she turned eighteen. She is almost as tall as her father now! I have kept it all these years, as it cost me a fortune, and I did not have the heart to have it redesigned. I was hoping to have a granddaughter who might need it.” She laughed. “That will never happen.”

She watched Elizabeth run a finger over the bruise and cut Stefano had left on her cheek. “Do not fret, dear. I have powder to cover that.” She searched through a drawer, quickly pulling out a jar. “Here is what we need!” She took a very small brush and dusted a flesh coloured powder over the wound making it almost invisible.

At last the maid was finished with the hem and stepped back. Abby Barnwell sighed. “Oh, miss. You look like a princess!” Elizabeth blushed. “Now, where did I put those pins with the tiny flowers on them? They will look wonderful in your dark hair!” She began pulling items out of other drawers of the dressing table, first one thing out and then another. “Oh, here they are!”

“Carrie, take the dress and hem it quickly, while Suzanne and I arrange Miss Elizabeth’s hair! Carrie laid the dress carefully over her arm and started from the room. “Make haste, girl! We do not have much time!”