Darcy tightened his hold on her.What could he say to allay her fears? He did not marry Elizabeth to make her mistress of his estate; he married her to protect her and because of the need he held for her.“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 is the best kisser I have ever known.”
Darcy smiled wickedly. “I did not say you were the best I have ever known.”
Elizabeth suddenly shoved against him, ready to escape his taunt, but Darcy clamped his hands together behind her back.“You are a cad, Sir—a true blackguard!” she retorted hotly.
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” he joked, holding her tightly to him. Darcy took one hand to cup her face, turning it to him. “Elizabeth, I married you because I need you—beyond reason—I need you.” His breathing became shallow with desire.
“You need me—for what, Mr. Darcy?” Her lips took on a slight pout.
“I need you to…you are the one I turn to when I need reason…when I need courage. I need your kiss—your touch—your empathy. I need the excitement I see in your eyes when you practice fencing or riding Ceres or waltzing. I need to feel alive, and only you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, can do that. I could hire someone to run the estate, but no one could take your place. Do you understand that?”
Elizabeth blushed in embarrassment.“Yes, Fitzwilliam, I understand,” she said meekly. She added wryly,“You do not need a mistress of your estate, but you do need a fencing partner, a riding mate, and someone with whom to dance.”
“Do not forget that I need someone to kiss.” Darcy 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.“Play on.”
Darcy took her mouth possessively, the hunger filling him, both a sexual desire and an animalistic need taking hold of him. “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 close to her ear before sucking the lobe with his lips and tongue, “and I can think of nothing but touching you.” His mouth trailed a line of fire down her neck.A moan escaped his lips before he kissed the spot between the swell of her breasts. He heard her quick intake of breath as he returned his head to suck gently on the side of her neck.
“Ah, you enjoy my femininity,” she whispered.
“Femininity?” Darcy barely got the word out; his hunger was driving him on.
Elizabeth leaned her head back to welcome his continued possession. “That is what my uncle calls it when he kisses Aunt Merry as such.”
The words she spoke invaded his passion-filled brain. “Your Aunt Merry?”
Elizabeth enjoyed taking him by surprise.“Aunt Merry wears a scarf to cover Uncle’s lovemaking.”
“And how, Mrs. Darcy, would you know that?” Darcy sounded both suspicious and amused.
“Aunt Merry noted how you judiciously covered my mark with the emerald necklace. She shared her diversionary techniques at the opera.”
Darcy smiled good-humoredly, suppressing the image. “I believe that I will never be able to look your aunt in the face again.”
“I feel the same about Uncle; Aunt told me too much and not enough, both at the same time.”
Realizing that the moment had passed, Darcy released his hold on her and straightened his waistcoat.“I suppose we need to think about this.”
Elizabeth looked down shyly.“I suppose.”
Before Darcy could respond, Mr. Lockwood tapped on the
“Mr. Darcy, a large box arrived for Mrs. Darcy from London. Shall I place it in her room?”
“It is the books, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said from behind him.
“The library will be more appropriate, Mr. Lockwood.”
“Yes, Sir.”The man began to back out of the room.
“Mr. Lockwood, would you place a small table, several straight-backed chairs, paper, and pens and ink in the library also. My wife and sister have studies they wish to pursue.”
“Certainly, Mr. Darcy.” The man exited immediately.
“Well, my love, shall we see what insights the books have brought? I will send for Mrs.Annesley and Georgiana to join us.”
“I can think of nothing I would enjoy more.” They moved towards the door. Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks, and turning to him, she blushed profusely.“Well, I can think of one thing, but it must wait.”
Wickham lounged leisurely in the corner of Mrs. Phillips’s drawing room. He held a glass of port, but he did not drink; it was all part of the illusion. The Bennet ladies had arrived five minutes earlier. Now, Wickham waited to greet them; he anticipated it taking at least a fortnight for him to maneuver Lydia Bennet, his intended target, away from her family. Discreet inquiries had told him that the Forsters planned to travel to London for a Christmas military ball, and Mrs. Forster wished Lydia Bennet to be her special friend and join the party. Wickham could simply take Lydia, but that would not serve his purpose. Instead, he wanted to spirit her away from her family, letting Elizabeth Darcy rue the day she aligned herself with Fitzwilliam Darcy. Because of her choice, Elizabeth’s sister would die. It would be enough to force the Darcys apart, leaving Fitzwilliam Darcy vulnerable once again.
“Mr.Wickham,” Lydia Bennet called out loudly when she spotted him,“it has been a lifetime since we last saw you.”
Mrs. Bennet allowed her youngest daughter too much freedom in her deportment, and this annoyed him. Wickham always preferred refined ladies to the “working” girls he often took on the street. His tastes had been established two centuries earlier with Lady Ellender D’Arcy.The image of his first love flickered momentarily in front of his eyes. He thought of her often of late—especially since seeing Georgiana Darcy—as if he were coming full circle, back to where it all began. Shaking off the image,Wickham pushed away from the wall and strode forward to meet them.“Miss Lydia,” he said, bowing before taking her hand and bringing it to his lips.“It is a pleasure to hear that you missed my company.”
“You are a tease!” Lydia playfully struck his arm with her fan before twining her arm about his forearm.“You remember my sisters, Mr.Wickham.”
Wickham offered Mary and Kitty Bennet an abbreviated bow. “How could I forget such beautiful ladies?”
Lydia pulled him after her. “You will sit with me, Mr. Wickham.” She led him to a card table, and, dutifully, he gave in to her request.
Over the next hour, much to Wickham’s chagrin, Lydia Bennet talked incessantly of lottery tickets and of the fish she lost and fish she won.Although her immaturity irritated him, he made sure that his manners recommended him to everybody. Whatever he said was well said; and whatever he did, done gracefully. He did not leave Lydia’s side, not even during supper; he tolerated her childishness. Throughout the excruciating evening, he took pleasure in visualizing her end. It will be satisfying to finally silence her.
“Miss Lydia,” he said as he prepared to take his leave,“may I call on you day after tomorrow?” If he was to stay in the area over a period of time, he would require some time away to replenish his hunger for blood. He would take his desires back towards London, away from the local officials.
Lydia giggled with excitement, her head full of his attentions.“I look forward to it, Mr.Wickham.”
“Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth kissed his ear, trying to wake him. Darcy knew he should open his eyes, but having Elizabeth seek his affection gave him too much satisfaction. He kept his breathing even and his eyes closed tightly. She pulled on the lobe with her lips, sucking, the way he had taught her. Darcy’s shaft grew as she blew lightly in his ear. “Fitzwilliam,” she tried again, this time actually sliding her tongue in his ear. A jolt of desire shot through him. He had not taught her that! Unable to withstand her seduction, Darcy pulled her atop him as he captured her lips with his.
When he finally released her, she giggled and said, “Good! You are awake.”
“Did you think I could sleep through such an exhilarating Good morning?” he inquired froggily.
“It is snowing,” she declared. “There are several inches on the ground.”
“Welcome to Derbyshire winters.” Darcy pulled the blankets tighter to keep them both warm.
Elizabeth pushed the hair from his eyes. “I love it when it snows; it makes Christmas seem so near. It rarely snows this early in Hertfordshire.” She rolled from his embrace. “Shall we go for a walk in the snow?”
“We have not yet broken our fast, Elizabeth,” Darcy protested.
“I do not want breakfast.”
Darcy laughed. “I cannot recall the last time I purposely went walking in the snow.”
“Then it is about time you did it again,” she reasoned.
“All right,” he said and reluctantly threw the blankets aside. “You win, my love.”
“Oh, good, I almost never win.” Elizabeth scrambled from the bed before Darcy changed his mind.
Twenty minutes later, they emerged from a side door of Pemberley and started off across the south lawn.The snow was a hand deep and
“I love it when the snow is so smooth.” Elizabeth stood wrapped in Darcy’s arms, looking out over the lawn’s coating. “It was so beautiful from our bedroom window that I could not resist coming outside to experience it firsthand.”
“It is as if God is wiping everything clean,” Darcy said, looking over Elizabeth’s shoulder at Nature’s perfect picture. “Pemberley is beautiful in the spring and summer, but newly fallen snow has its appeal as well.”
“Mr. Wickham told me it would be so.” The words escaped involuntarily; she had not planned to say them.
“When did Mr.Wickham offer such observations?”
Elizabeth turned to face him. “I forgot the conversation. It was after you shunned him in Meryton—before he attacked me.Wickham said terrible things about you—things I knew to be false. Wanting to know if Wickham was in Derbyshire when you were, I asked about his time in Bakewell, where he said he had resided for some time.” Elizabeth strolled away from Darcy, needing to gather her thoughts. “I asked Wickham what he knew of Derbyshire, speaking under the guise of wanting to know more about Aunt Merry’s childhood home. He told me the terrain was more rugged, with thicker vegetation, colder winters, and milder summers. He said he preferred the wildness of the Peak District because it reminded him of Scotland. Next to Northumberland, he preferred the Peak District to the rest of England.”
“Could Wickham still have a home in Bakewell?” Darcy mused aloud.
“It is possible—or even in Northumberland.”
Yesterday in their readings, they felt they had uncovered the mystery of the dirt in Wickham’s bed. One text claimed a vampire could sleep only if he had his coffin. The account said the beast
“I am not sure, but I do know there have been enough border wars that at least part of Northumberland must consider itself to be part of Scotland. All I know of Northumberland is that our breakfast kippers come from Craster.What did you learn of it at the university?” Elizabeth walked in a circle, scraping the snow with the toes of her ankle boots.
Darcy tried to remember his history lessons. “The area came under English rule with King Edwin. Northumberland stretches from Newcastle upon Tyne to Tynemouth. It is quite undeveloped—sparse high moorlands. There were famous battles, such as when Malcolm II annihilated the Northumbrian army at Carham on the Tweed, but under James I and VI, the Scottish and English claims were united. However, even as late as the early 1700s, there was trouble during the Jacobite rebellion.” He recited the lines as if he were back in school and studying for an exam.
“A house in Northumberland would fit in with Wickham’s need for isolation,” Elizabeth reasoned. “Could we find out where Ellender and Lord Thomas lived? It would tell us from where Wickham originally came—where he was buried—from where he derives his home earth.”
“We can check Dugdale’s catalogue or Debrett’s Baronetage of England or even the Doomsday Book. Surely one of them lists Lord Arawn Benning.” Darcy’s excitement grew; it was their first real lead. “When we have a possible location, I will send out investigators before we make a move.”
“Fitzwilliam, do you realize what this means? Wickham’s hold on the family could be coming to an end.” In complete happiness, Elizabeth turned in a circle, arms spread wide and face raised to meet fresh flakes of newly fallen snow.“I have never felt freer!”
CHAPTER 19
Darcy watched her spin around and around, pure joy streaming from her face, and all at once his heart swelled, too. Suddenly, he felt the weight lift from his shoulders, and it was all because of her—because of his Elizabeth. He did the only thing he could under the circumstances.
“Elizabeth!” he called out.
She recognized the warning in his voice and turned to him. He stood playfully tossing a snowball into the air and catching it once again. Her light green eyes widened in disbelief, turning a forest green in recognition. “Fitzwilliam, you would not.” She began to back away, a hand held out as protection.
“I would, my dear.” He lifted his arm as if to toss the snow at her, and she broke into a run, heading for the tree line.
Elizabeth heard Darcy’s laughter behind her and the sound of snow crunching under his pursuing feet—and then the snowball smacked her shoulder, spraying icy streams down her neck.
Without thinking, she bent as she ran, scooping up a handful of snow in her glove, squeezing the snow tightly. It was not a very big ball, but it was solid. Stopping suddenly, she turned and let it fly. Darcy, in his chase, did not expect the densely packed ball, which hit his ear and spattered across his cheek.“Why, you…!” he threatened, still advancing.
Catching her up in his arms, he swung Elizabeth around, both of them laughing helplessly. He pretended to drop her just to hear her cry of alarm, and when he sat her down again, he scooped up an armful of snow and dumped it over her head, covering her with frozen flakes.
Elizabeth flicked the cold away from her face with snow-covered gloves and came at him, bent on vengeance. Darcy sprinted to the
