Page 78 of A Different Impression

Elizabeth rested her head against his shoulder.

“I cannot tell you what lies within your father’s heart,” Darcy continued, caressing her back, “but I can tell you what lies within mine. You are my chosen companion for life—not because you were convenient or merely available, but because I love you for everything you are. Nothing could make you replaceable to me.”

Her tears dampened his cravat as she shuddered in his arms. Darcy held her without speaking until her breathing gradually slowed. When he realised that she had fallen asleep against him, a tender laugh escaped him.

He remained where he was, unwilling to disturb her. The wounds inflicted by her parents were perhaps deeper than even Elizabeth understood, and they emerged at unexpected moments. Darcy could not heal them for her, but he could ensure that she never doubted her place in his life.

His hand moved instinctively to the small swell of her abdomen. Fatherhood had already caused him to reconsider the responsibilities he bore—not only towards his own child, but towards all the families dependent upon Pemberley. He could not protect his child from every hurt, any more than he could erase those Elizabeth had suffered, but he could provide an example of steadiness, affection and duty.

Resting his cheek against her hair, Darcy held his sleeping wife and contemplated the family they were creating together.

Later that evening, William brought Elizabeth a note confirming that her father and Mary had accepted their invitation. They would arrive around noon the following day and remain for several nights. Elizabeth experienced a mixture of anticipation and unease at the prospect, but she was pleased that Mary would be present when they announced their happy news.

That evening, Richard and Mr Bingley escorted the unmarried ladies to the opera under the chaperonage of Lady Matlock and Mrs Annesley. For the first time in what seemed an age, Elizabeth and William had Darcy House entirely to themselves. They dined privately in their sitting room, played a game of chess and retired early. They had long since dismissed their personal servants and helped one another into their nightclothes, although the garments soon proved to have been unnecessary.

The following morning began with William’s customary conversation with their unborn child, whose faint movements continued to fill Elizabeth with wonder. Afterwards, he attended to his correspondence before leaving for a previously arranged meeting at his club.

Elizabeth spent part of the morning with the housekeeper, confirming the arrangements for their visitors and settling the final details for that evening’s dinner. She then joined Jane, Kitty, Georgiana, Anne and Charlotte in the drawing room, where they talked comfortably whilst attending to their various occupations.

A sharp metallic clang interrupted their conversation.

Elizabeth raised her head. Another clash echoed from somewhere above them, followed by the unmistakable sound of rapid footsteps.

“What can that be?” Jane asked.

“I have no idea,” Elizabeth replied, setting aside her work, “but I intend to discover it.”

Charlotte and Jane followed her into the corridor. As Elizabeth climbed the stairs, the sounds grew louder, leading them towards the ballroom. Its door stood slightly ajar, and she cautiously peered through the opening.

She immediately discovered that William had returned from his club—and that Richard and Mr Bingley had accompanied him. The ballroom was evidently serving as a salle, and William and Richard were engaged in a vigorous fencing match whilst Mr Bingley watched from a safe distance.

All three gentlemen had removed their coats and waistcoats. William’s shirtsleeves were rolled back from his forearms, and his linen clung damply to his shoulders. Elizabeth’s breath caught as she watched him advance, parry Richard’s thrust and turn with a strength and grace she had never before witnessed. The sight sent a decidedly improper warmth through her.

Only after several enthralling moments did she remember that she was not alone.

She glanced back to find Jane and Charlotte watching with equal fascination. Colour had risen in Jane’s cheeks, whilst Charlotte appeared quite unable to drag her gaze away from Richard.

“We should not be here,” Elizabeth whispered, although she regretted the necessity of saying so.

She began ushering them away, but before she could close the door, Mr Bingley looked towards them. His sudden exclamation caused both combatants to turn.

William’s gaze found hers at once.

Elizabeth should have retreated in embarrassment. Instead, she allowed her eyes to travel deliberately over his shirtsleeves and the broad expanse of his chest before meeting his gaze once more. She gave him a playful wink and closed the door upon the decidedly unsuitable spectacle.

She was waiting in their chambers when William returned to wash and dress before the arrival of their guests.

“What were you doing at the ballroom door earlier?” he asked as he pulled his damp shirt over his head.

Elizabeth’s answer deserted her. The sight before her was hardly less distracting than the one she had witnessed downstairs. His skin still glistened faintly from his exertions, and she allowed herself the indulgence of looking before raising her eyes to his.

“We heard noises and went to investigate. I did not know that you had returned—or that you intended to use the ballroom as a salle.”

“And did your investigation prove satisfactory?” William asked, moving slowly towards her.

“More than satisfactory.” Elizabeth’s gaze travelled over him once more. “Indeed, it was a spectacle I should be pleased to witness again. Unfortunately, I cannot determine how that might be arranged without including the other gentlemen.”

William’s eyes darkened as he looked at her. “I am certain some private arrangement could be made.”