Page 77 of Elizabeth Bennet Says Yes to Mr. Darcy

Elizabeth stepped down from the carriage. She stood still for a moment, perhaps overwhelmed by the number of people lined up before her. Then she smiled.

“Thank you. I'm afraid I know very little about the customs of this house. I hope you will help me learn them without letting me commit too many disasters.”

An amused murmur rippled through the servants. Mrs. Reynolds smiled broadly.

“We shall do our best, madam.”

I understood that Pemberley already loved her.

The first days were filled with introductions. Elizabeth met the steward, the pastor, several farming families, and the principal servants. She asked questions, sometimes made mistakes, laughed at herself, and refused to pretend she knew what she did not.

In the evenings, she joined me in our chamber.

We learned each other's bodies with the same frankness as everything else. I discovered the places where she liked to be kissed, the way her breath changed when my hand slipped between her thighs, the growing boldness with which she touched me. She discovered that pleasure could erase all pain, that her boldness did not shock me, and that I had far more difficulty keeping my composure when she was naked in my lap.

A week after our arrival, she found me in the library while I was examining accounts.

“You've been working for three hours.”

“Two.”

“Mrs. Reynolds says three.”

“Mrs. Reynolds has a generous notion of time.”

Elizabeth closed the ledger.

“Your wife demands your presence elsewhere.”

“My wife is becoming quite authoritarian.”

“She has received excellent training.”

She sat in my lap, which put an end to any attempt at seriousness.

“Where do you require my presence?” I asked.

“In our chamber.”

“For any particular reason?”

She leaned toward my ear.

“I would like to continue my education.”

I carried her upstairs despite her laughter and the carefully averted gazes of the servants.

Later, lying against me, she traced lazy lines on my chest with her fingertip.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked.

“Hunsford.”

I stiffened.

“That memory is hardly conducive to marital satisfaction.”

“On the contrary. I was thinking that I had accepted a man I did not know. I didn't yet know you were capable of admitting your mistakes, of laughing, of consoling Kitty, or of losing all dignity when a woman touches you in certain ways.”