He put a finger under her chin and tilted her head up to more easily view her face. “Truly?” He gazed into her eyes with concern, but also hope.
“Yes.” Boldly she leaned forward and initiated a kiss which began innocently enough, but soon turned passionate.
When they finally separated, they were both panting. Darcy gave a huge sigh. “Very well, Mrs. Darcy, against my better judgment you have convinced me that I must seduce you on our wedding night.”
She laughed, but abruptly William stood and picked her up. He settled her gently in the center of the immense mahogany four poster bed and then stretched himself alongside her. His bold, admiring look alone was enough to make her blush, but she met his gaze.
Darcy’s hand idly touched one silken curl where it rested on a pillow. “I do not want you to be scared or nervous.” His voice was low and husky.
“If you keep kissing me like that I will not be at all nervous,” she said with a little laugh.
“I cannot tell you how often I have imagined this, but never thought it would come to pass.” He confessed.
Their eyes locked. “I have imagined this as well,” she said softly.
The information seemed to startle him. “Truly?” Such a response was far more than he could hope for. Then he gave her a warm smile. “I hope tonight will not fall short of your imagination.”
She glanced down to see his hands undoing the ties on her nightgown. He leaned over and kissed her with undeniable passion, pressing her against the soft mattress. Then he sat up and divested himself of his shirt. Elizabeth gazed at his chest with frank admiration. “Mr. Darcy, I have every confidence you will exceed my expectations.”
He laughed and kissed her again. Then they had no more time for talking.
The next morning, Darcy awoke from a confused dream and for a moment had trouble recalling where he was. But when he opened his eyes, he saw a sleeping Elizabeth curled up next to him. As the events of the previous day flooded back to him, he felt a great rush of love for the sleeping woman. It is not a dream! We are indeed married. He was the most fortunate man alive!
Elizabeth stirred and opened her eyes, smiling when she saw him. He pulled her close to his chest, and – before she could say anything – his lips were pressed against hers hungrily. No conversation had passed their lips, but he knew they were going to be late for breakfast.
Darcy and Elizabeth lingered one more day with the Whitmores, but then they reluctantly agreed it was time to leave. Mr. Flouret had examined Elizabeth and pronounced her well enough to travel with the caveat that she should not exert herself excessively or allow herself to be chilled. The doctor was still concerned about her cough, but was heartened that it had not worsened. Nor has it improved markedly, Darcy thought to himself.
He would be happy to delay until Elizabeth was stronger, but she was stubborn in her desire to depart. She worried that every day it would become more difficult to leave the country. Hostilities with England would only escalate, and Darcy was in more danger than she. The thought of leaving for England without him was intolerable to her.
Elizabeth had also expressed concern about her family. Darcy had sent brief notes to the Gardiners and to Georgiana explaining the reason for their delay – although he had not revealed how ill Elizabeth had truly been. But he had cautioned them against writing back; he did not want anything to draw attention to their presence in France. The Gardiners would have passed the news along to Longbourn. Nevertheless she was certain that all the assembled Gardiners and Bennets would be anxious until she was safely home.
The night of their final dinner at the manor, Darcy and Whitmore discussed the safest method for arriving in England. Whitmore insisted on sending them in his coach with two footme
n despite Darcy’s dismay. “I appreciate the offer, Whitmore, but I cannot possibly put you to so much trouble.”
Whitmore demurred. “It is no trouble at all. We have another carriage we can use until our footmen bring the other back after your departure. We can easily spare the men.” He casually helped himself to some the beef.
“Whitmore—” Darcy began.
Whitmore interrupted him. “I insist! I only wish I could send more men to accompany you. Who knows what kind of dangers you might encounter on your journey? Marie and I will not rest easy until we have done everything we in our power to see you safely on your way.” Sitting next to him at the table, Marie nodded emphatically in agreement.
Darcy sighed. “Very well. Where should we depart from?” He stared at the fine linen tablecloth, but was visualizing a map of France.
“I have given it some thought. Calais is out of the question; that is where they will expect to find Englishmen. Instead you should consider Dunkirk. It will be a longer trip from here and it will take you more time to reach England, but the Dunkirk port has fewer passenger ships and more cargo ships. You can probably find a cargo ship or fishing boat that would take you to England for the right price. If that proves too dangerous, you could consider Boulogne-sur-Mer.”
“Which town is less likely to be full of soldiers seeking wayward Englishmen?” Darcy asked, taking a sip of his wine.
“Truly, I believe Dunkirk. Boulogne has some naval vessels, although it is not a major port.”
Darcy considered for a moment. “Very well.” He turned suddenly to Elizabeth. “Elizabeth, how is your Italian?”
“Passable, but not as good as my French.” She appeared a little startled at the abrupt shift of topic. “Actually I am at my best if I can sing it.”
He smiled. “I do not believe that singing will be required. My plan is that if we are challenged by the police or military, we will tell them we are Italian, Signor Guillermo Rossi and his wife Lisabetta.” He raised his wine glass in a mocking toast.
Whitmore nodded his approval of the plan. “You would never be able to convince a Frenchman that you are a native. But, they probably cannot tell if you speak Italian with an English accent.”
“As long as we do not encounter any actual Italians.” Elizabeth said with a wry smile.