I forgot to mention before that I wrote this story about 8 years ago. It was my second story, and I learned a lot writing it with my editor-in-chef, the grammar goddess divine, Charlene. And as good as she is - making her living as an editor - even she couldn't find all the typos of this dyslexic.

Chapter Eight

Elizabeth and Darcy had just sat down to dinner when a commotion in the hall commanded their attention. Almost immediately, a rather imperious looking older woman strode toward them.

Darcy stood. "Lady Catherine. To what do we owe the honor? Allow me to introduce my wife, Elizabeth."

"Hrumph. So this is who you married instead of Anne? Darcy, I want a private word with you."

Elizabeth rose to leave, "If you will excuse me…"

"No, Elizabeth, please stay. Lady Catherine, I can think of nothing you may wish to speak with me about that cannot be said in front of my wife."

"If you insist, Darcy," Lady Catherine seated herself at the far end of the table. "I can see by the fact that your wife is not seated in her appropriate place at table that my fears for this union have already been proven correct. I am greatly displeased that you went against the wishes of your entire family and did not honor our expectation of marriage to Anne. My fool of a brother did nothing to stop you and warned me not to interfere. I should never have listened to him. I should have gone to Hertfordshire to talk some sense into you before the wedding took place. It is clear that this woman has trapped you somehow; nothing except gross impropriety can explain such a hastily arranged marriage. Darcy, do you not know that a man of your station can easily see such things quieted? You could have had your pleasure with her then sent her away. You need not have married her!"

"Lady Catherine! You assume too much. Neither Elizabeth nor I have acted improperly and I highly resent your accusations!"

"Oh, Darcy, do not play the gallant with me! I am almost your nearest relation and such family secrets are common. But it is not too late to arrange an annulment. If there is a child in seven months, it — and this woman — can be taken care of."

"ENOUGH!" Darcy roared as he rose from his chair. "How dare you come into my house and speak such slanderous falsehoods. You impugn my honor and that of my wife's! Remove yourself from this house AT ONCE! You are not welcome here, and you are not welcome at Pemberley, until you apologize to me and to my wife. Good night, madam!" Darcy gripped his aunt's arm and began to lead her from the room.

"Take your hands off me, Nephew! I will not stay another minute in a house so polluted by a woman of no consequence, a country nobody who DARES believe she is a worthy successor to the daughter of an earl! I take no leave of you and I leave no compliments to your wife! I am most seriously displeased!" With that, Lady Catherine stormed out of the room and out of the house.

"Elizabeth, I… I apologize. I should not have asked you to stay, but I did not believe Lady Catherine capable of such … a venomous attack on our characters."

Elizabeth saw Darcy's deep distress and was moved to comfort him, although she was badly in need of comforting herself.

"William, let us remove to the drawing room. After such an … enlightening encounter I believe some music may be the food that most satisfies us now." She smiled at him, but her face was pale and a shaky voice betrayed her emotions.

At the pianoforte, Elizabeth asked Darcy to turn the pages for her. She played and played and played until the animosity both were feeling melted away.

"William, shall I ask for a tray of food to be brought to us now?"

"Yes, I do not wish to return to that room tonight."

Elizabeth rang for a servant and gave the pertinent instructions. When she turned her attention back to her husband, she found him seated on the divan.

"Come, sit next to me." Darcy pulled her close to him. "Elizabeth, I cannot say I am surprised by my aunt's displeasure. I was relieved when she did not come to our wedding; I knew she would only cause distress. For as long as I can remember, she has talked of a marriage between her daughter, my cousin Anne, and me, although she never took the trouble to ascertain if either of us was agreeable. She seemed more interested in uniting Pemberley and Rosings than a man and a wife. It pains me that she has so abused you, and I am heartily sorry for it. She will never be welcome here again."

"I cannot deny that I was appalled and hurt by her words, but I do not want to be the reason for discord or estrangement in your family. Should Lady Catherine wish reconciliation, my wounded pride will not be a barrier to it. Besides, if her … performance was any indication, I suspect that Lady Catherine's disapproval will long outlast the wounds to my pride." She smiled weakly, but Darcy could still see her pain.

That night, Darcy was unsurprised when he again heard Elizabeth calling out in her sleep. He slipped into her room, lay down next to her, and whispered soothing words that eventually brought her peaceful slumber.

"Elizabeth, all is well. It is William. I am here." She felt herself being lifted into his arms and suddenly she felt protected as she never had been before.

As he lay holding his wife in his arms, Darcy wondered who was more comforted this night. Since he had finished Cambridge and assumed more responsibility for his family and estate, Darcy had doubted his ability to be worthy of his heritage and the Darcy name. He had so much to learn and he missed his father's tutelage. Now he was married and he felt… overwhelmed. Could he be a good husband? What about children? Once Elizabeth came to his bed, surely it would not take them years to conceive. Would he become a father much sooner than he had ever contemplated? What of Lady Catherine? She was vindictive enough to use her influence to discredit Elizabeth in society. And Elizabeth, when would the dreams tormenting her cease? What could he do to bring her peace?

But the soft contours of his wife's body soon recaptured his imagination. With pleasant thoughts of pleasures ahead, and a smile on his face, Darcy finally drifted off to sleep.

The next two days passed without further incident. Each night, Elizabeth grew distressed in her sleep, each night Darcy came to her bed, and each night, she calmed in his arms.

She felt herself being lifted into his arms, protected, as she never had been before.

"Here, Darcy, let me. She is my sister."

"No, Robert, she is my wife."

At Afton House, another Darcy lay awake each night. Georgiana knew she must give Drury an answer soon. Why was life so unfair! Georgiana yearned to be enfolded in Robert Bennet's embrace, to feel safe and loved and treasured. But she had spurned Robert's love, and instead was wrestling with the renewed offer from a man she once thought she loved. She never truly loved Drury, she knew that now; how could she love a man who loved only himself? Drury confessed his desire to marry only her. But why? He had never seemed ardently devoted to her when they had been betrothed previously; indeed, when she broke it off, he had been more insulted than broken-hearted. There was any number of women he might have married in the five years since. Few would have rejected him, as she had, and although Drury had shown no particular interest in another, he had equally shown no particular interest in courting her again — until his sudden, unexpected offer. She should feel gratitude, at least, that he was so willing to salvage the Darcy family honor, but she felt only … trapped.

William, damn him! How could he have done this to her?

He did not have to offer for Elizabeth, he did not have to challenge Wickham! Nevertheless, he had done both. Now it fell to her, as first born, to reclaim the Darcy position in society, but at a terrible price. Marriage was the only way, marriage to Drury: a splendid match, titled connections, an advantageous alliance that would return prestige to the House of Darcy. Without it, Beth was doomed. Georgiana was too proud to allow that; and she would be mistress of her own household again.

Yet Georgiana was desolate – marriage to a man she did not love, a man she did not even like. Robert's words mocked her: "I see now that I will never be good enough for you. Your family should arrange a marriage to a Peer. Then you would fulfil your duty." There was no decision to make; she had no choice. Her heart whispered that it need not be that way, that she deserved happiness, that she deserved to love and be loved. But for so long she had told herself that duty came before all else; she no longer heard the pleading of her heart.

On Thursday, Darcy proclaimed their shopping complete, and he inquired of Elizabeth whether she would like to see something of London's sights. She had often visited the Gardiners in Gracechurch Street, but had seen little of the town. Her Aunt was often too busy with the children to spend her time thus engaged. Montagu House was the destination of the day and Elizabeth marveled at its classical sculpture and Egyptian antiquities. Darcy gloried in the joy he was able to bring her with such a simple gesture of an afternoon agreeably spent. It was a needed respite from the past three days. Elizabeth had never complained, but all the choices and decisions required by the necessary expansion of her wardrobe had fatigued them both. An afternoon admiring the accomplishments of the past was a welcome change.

When they returned home, a note awaited them.

Elizabeth,

Father has dispatched me on an errand to Town. I am once again enjoying the hospitality of the Gardiners. I should dearly like to call on you tomorrow, if it is agreeable. I return to Longbourn Saturday morn.

Robert

"William, I would dearly love to see Robert tomorrow. May I ask him to dine with us?"

"Of course, I wish to see him as well."

"I will reply to his note and ask him to dinner. I must speak to Mrs. Thomas at once!"

Darcy was amused by his wife's excited manner and left her to her tasks. Elizabeth was in high spirits all evening and Darcy hoped it might help her to sleep better.

It was not to be. Once again he heard her cry out, and once again he went to comfort her.

But this night sleep did not immediately come. Darcy found himself becoming aroused as he held Elizabeth, and it took all his self-control to keep his hand chastely around her. He longed to progress beyond his innocent embrace to fondling his wife's temptingly soft breast. Stifling a moan and clenching his teeth, he played over and over again his vow to let her decide when to become intimate. That vow was becoming most difficult to keep.

Elizabeth was lying on her side on the ground, in the place where Wickham had attacked her, but he was not there. Instead she felt a man lying next to her, his arm around her. "Elizabeth, all is well. It is William. I am here."

"Oh William, you have come to me." She took his hand, so chaste at her waist, and moved it to her bosom, her hand covering it and holding it there.

"Tell me of Derbyshire, and of Pemberley…"

Georgiana received her visitor with apparent ease, but inside she was in complete turmoil. She knew what she must do, but it was exactly the opposite of what she wanted.

"You requested that I come today," Viscount Drury said.

"Yes, I promised you an answer."

"Have you decided?"

"Yes."

"Is that your answer?"

With a coldness that came from the barren wasteland that was now her heart, she answered.

"Yes, Henry, I will marry you."

When Elizabeth awoke, she immediately checked to see if William had been with her; the small amount of warmth next to her confirmed her impression that he had. She was grateful that he came to her, grateful that he left while she still slept. When he held her, the dreams of Wickham's assault faded away. Elizabeth pondered her reaction to her husband's touch. On several occasions, she had wakened in the night to the feel of his hand on her breast. The first time it happened she was mortified and quickly moved his hand away. But the next time, she had covered his hand with her own before drifting back to sleep, strangely at ease with the intimacy.

During the last several days, Elizabeth had given a great deal of thought to deciding whether she was ready to consummate her marriage. Her mother had told her what wifely duties would entail and had surprised her with a frank confession: it was not something to be endured, as Elizabeth had heard, but something to be enjoyed.

She contemplated the ramifications of waiting. She had married a man she liked, but did not love, had done so in haste, and almost against her will. She had always expected to be deeply in love with the man she took as her husband. She did not know if she could ever truly love Darcy, or if he would ever love her. To wait until such feelings developed could be catastrophic; what if they never came? She understood her obligation as a wife, her obligation to produce an heir for Pemberley, and in truth, although the prospect of physical intimacy with Darcy was daunting, she had no reason to think it would be repugnant. It would be pleasant to be in love before they became lovers, but was it necessary? The longer she put it off, the more awkward it could become. Was she willing to risk the good understanding they now had for feelings that might never come? If they were to grow closer in mind and spirit, perhaps they first needed to grow closer in… The thought still had the power to make Elizabeth blush.

And how long would he wait? If he derived the same pleasures from her touch as she did from his, how long would he restrain himself when every night they slept side-by-side in the same bed? Darcy was no Wickham; she had no fears that her husband would force himself on her and every expectation that he would be a patient and considerate partner.

No, it was time. There was nothing to be gained, and, perhaps, much to be lost by waiting longer still. Tonight, after Robert returned to the Gardiner's, she would somehow find a way to tell her husband that she was ready to fully become his wife. Now her only task was to hold her nerve and follow through.

Elizabeth and Darcy were surprised when Georgiana was announced. They had not anticipated seeing her until they arrived at Pemberley.

"Georgiana! We were not expecting you."

"Hello, William, Mrs. Darcy. No, I had meant to give you privacy this week, but something has arisen that I need to speak with you about, William."

"I will leave you then, and have tea brought in for you. Miss Darcy, it is good to see you again. I will be with Mrs. Thomas if you need me, William."

After the tea items were brought in and they were finally alone, Darcy began to question his sibling. "Georgiana, what is it that has arisen?"

"William, Viscount Drury visited me on Monday."

"What could he possibly want?"

"He came to renew his addresses."

"What? After all this time? After the way he treated you?"

"William, I accepted his offer."

"Excuse me?"

"Henry and I are engaged."

Darcy did not know what to think. Why was she doing this?

"Georgiana, please excuse my shock. I do not understand. He behaved abominably to you. What makes you believe he is a different man now than he was then?"

"You do not understand!"

"No, sister, I do not."

"What choice do I have? You are married now. I have become a guest in your home. Your wife's lack of fortune and inferior connections has made it impossible for me to hope for another offer as advantageous as this. And what about Beth? My marriage to Henry will salvage the possibility of a suitable match for her."

"This all comes back to Elizabeth."

"Had you not married her, I would not have felt compelled to accept Henry's offer."

"You know so little of my wife, yet you think so little of her. How then can you know she is incapable of facing the ton? Is she to be held responsible for the accident of her birth? Does the uprightness of her character count for nothing?"

"In the eyes of society? No, it does not."

"I see. Once again we are at an impasse. You value social cachet more than character, appearance more than affection."

"What does affection have to do with this?"

"You do not love Drury."

"You do not love Elizabeth."

"That is different."

"How so? I see little difference between us. I, too, am marrying my social superior."

Darcy bristled at the implication. "Elizabeth had little choice but to marry."

"Neither do I. It is either marry Henry or face society's scorn."

"No one has attacked you or stolen your honor."

"You can stand before me and honestly say that my honor has not been stolen?" Georgiana nearly spit the words at him. She paused, calming herself, then continued. "I do not dislike Elizabeth, please understand this, but the moment you became engaged to her, our family name was, in a manner of speaking, dishonored. My marriage will restore the Darcy name. Elizabeth's situation and mine are the same. We are both innocents."

As much as he disagreed with her, as much as he decried her slavish devotion to wealth and consequence, Darcy did not want another argument with his sister. He knew that she was wrong, about Elizabeth, about her misplaced sense of duty, about this marriage. But he had no words to convince her of it, no way to make her understand. Then he remembered her odd behavior toward Robert Bennet and grasped at one last tactic.

"What does your heart say? Has it not been touched by another?"

"What do you know of my heart?"

"Nothing, for it seems you will not confide in me,"

"William, my heart is not your concern. I will marry Henry in four months' time. I am finished here; please give my compliments to your wife. I will see you when you arrive at Pemberley." Georgiana's words had a foreboding tone of finality.

After Georgiana left, Darcy told Elizabeth the news. Elizabeth could not understand her husband's distress, until he related Drury's history with Georgiana.

"William, what about Robert? Should we tell him?"

"Yes, he should know. Elizabeth, did Robert ever confide in you about Georgiana?"

"I believe that he was quite taken with her from the first time he saw her, but he never told me to what level his feelings had progressed. This will be a blow, I am sure."

It was a blow. No matter how much he tried, since Georgiana had refused him he could not shake his melancholy; it worsened considerably when he was told of the engagement.

Dinner that evening was strained. None of the three were disposed to conversation. Elizabeth asked a few questions about Jane and Bingley's wedding, but made little effort to keep the discussion alive.

When at last they had finished, Darcy rose, saying, "I know it is rather rude of me, but the announcements of today require my attention, and I have several letters to write. I beg you allow me to take my leave to finish them now."

"Elizabeth and I understand. Will you join us when you are finished?"

"Yes. It should only take a half-hour or so. Elizabeth, will you excuse me?"

"Go, William, the sooner you may be done with it."

After Darcy left, Robert turned to his sister. "Will you play for me? I have missed that."

"Of course, Robert. Perhaps music will calm us both."

Robert offered his arm and they headed towards the drawing room. "Are you well, truly?"

"William and I are coming to terms with this marriage, Robert. William is the best of men and the more I learn of him, the fonder I grow."

"Do you… have you developed any tender regard for him?"

Elizabeth blushed. 'Could Robert have read my thoughts?' "I do not know what my feelings are. I like William very much. We began, and remain, friends. Beyond that… I would be foolish to speculate."

Robert sat next to Elizabeth at the pianoforte to turn the pages.

"How many times have we sat like this, Robert?" Elizabeth smiled at him.

"Too many times to count... But now you are Mrs. Darcy and the privilege rests with someone else."

Elizabeth gazed at a far off place before responding. "Yes, so it does."

Neither of them said very much as Elizabeth played through many songs. Whilst she sang, her mind was full of her husband, and of worry for her brother. What would happen if Darcy was not ready to take her to his bed? Just what was the state of her feelings towards him? Unable to come to a satisfactory answer, she poured herself into the music, willing herself to be lost in its essence. Some of the songs she sang aloud, others she simply played. Neither she nor Robert was aware when a tall figure moved to stand in the doorway. Darcy stood transfixed. He was pleased to see his wife so engaged in her music, her brother clearly enjoying a peaceful interlude after the wretched business of the afternoon. When she finished her song Darcy's sudden clapping alerted the two of the third.

Rising to greet his brother, Robert said, "Darcy, I have been monopolizing my sister for far too long. Here, take my place."

"No," Darcy said as he made his way to sit, "let me enjoy another song from the sofa this time."

Elizabeth began to play again. She periodically stole a glance at her husband, trying to gauge whether she should follow through with her earlier resolutions. That she remained unsure of their reception was certain; that she had the courage to offer them was the question. His emotions were inscrutable, and she longed to be privy to his thoughts. Could she but know it, Darcy was thinking only of her, wishing she were truly his wife. He longed to touch her in the way a man touches a woman. Would that he could take her now to his bed, making her forever his alone.

When Elizabeth finished the song, Robert stood.

"Thank you both for a pleasant evening, but I believe I should take my leave of you and return to Gracechurch Street. I must be ready to leave for Longbourn in the morning as planned. Goodnight, Elizabeth." He kissed her cheek, then offered Darcy his hand.

When the door closed, Darcy and Elizabeth became very much aware that they were very much alone. Neither made any attempt to move or to speak. The minutes passed in silence.

Elizabeth wondered if she should confess her willingness to come to his bed. Was it too late?

Darcy wondered if he should confess his increasing regard, something he had only just allowed himself to acknowledge. Was it too soon?

Darcy was the first to break the silence. "Elizabeth, I want to tell you how much I have enjoyed our time to together. It has been too short for my liking, but we must depart for Pemberley sooner than we had planned. Beth will not be pleased with Georgiana's decision. She never liked Drury either."

"William, I… "

"No, please, let me finish. I also wish to tell you that I do not regret this marriage, Elizabeth, but I cannot help feeling guilty. I was the one offering you the advantages, we both knew that, but I now realize that it is quite the opposite. I could never have found so worthy a woman to be my partner in life. Thank you, Elizabeth, I do not deserve you."

Darcy's voice, normally so strong, finished at a near whisper. Elizabeth was greatly affected and finally was emboldened to go to him. Darcy seemed surprised to find her seated next to him. He was even more startled when she took his hand in hers. He looked at her, but she would not look at him.

"William…"

"Yes?"

"I… I do not quite know how to say this."

"What is it, Elizabeth? Tell me."

"William… I think… I think we… William..." Elizabeth sighed. "William I am ready to become you wife, in every way."

At last she looked up at him, a little afraid of what she would see in his face. Did he still see her as Robert Bennet's sister?

Darcy was flabbergasted. He could not believe she was offering, tonight of all nights, to give him leave to come to her as he now desired, as her lover. Aware that much of their future tranquility rested on his response, he decided to proceed carefully, his words full of tenderness.

"Elizabeth, forgive me. I did not speak to you of my feelings because I was expecting anything from you, tonight especially, after a day of such turmoil. Are you, are you certain in this?"

"Do you not wish it?" Elizabeth was unsure still of his reception.

He smiled. "Elizabeth, I am a man. But I must ask, why now?"

Relieved that he was not rejecting her, she answered, "I came to this decision before Georgiana's announcement today. I am ready. Waiting longer could create awkwardness between us and I do not want that. You have spent many nights in my bed as my friend, I would now have you come to me as my husband."

Darcy was stirred by her trust and commitment to him. Dear God, he prayed that he do nothing to destroy this gift!

"Then tonight, let us remove any awkwardness before it has a chance to begin." He embraced her, tentatively, and asked, "Elizabeth, may I kiss you?" She nodded shyly. It was to be their first since his chaste kiss on the day they were married. Slowly, he cupped her chin in his hand, leaning down to lightly brush her lips with his. Never having kissed a man before, Elizabeth's response was shy and hesitant. Darcy continued with short, light kisses, allowing her to learn how to meet his lips, then pulled back to look at her, silently asking permission to proceed.

"I believe, William, that I have given you leave for much more," she whispered.

"Indeed, you have." He gently returned his mouth to hers, undemanding, allowing her to respond as she was ready.

Before he was willing to teach her more, he rose from the sofa, and with a meaningful look said, "Let us return to this in the privacy of our own chambers." He offered her his arm and together they walked to her chambers. She turned to face him.

"Let me go in and dismiss my maid. You may come to me then." She reached up and gave him a quick kiss, demonstrating all that she had learned, before retreating behind a closing door.

Slightly dazed, Darcy entered his own rooms. With only the briefest conversation, he dismissed his valet for the night.

The servant, unused to such displays, hesitated. "Are you certain there is nothing else you will need tonight, sir?"

"No, you may go now, Morton."

The puzzled valet retreated as Darcy poured himself a drink. He looked deeply into the liquid, steadying himself. When at last he felt calm, Darcy drained his glass and strode purposefully to the door that led to her room. It was a matter of moments till he stood before the final barrier between husband and wife, a barrier in more ways than one. Tonight she would be awake when he walked through the door. Tonight he would enter, not as soothing friend, but as husband and lover.

When the anticipated knock came, Elizabeth was seated before her dressing table – hairpins removed and brush in hand. She answered the knock with a summons to enter. Darcy cautiously opened the door. The sight of Elizabeth, with her hair down, played at his senses. He saw her shy smile reflected in the glass and moved to stand behind her. Wordlessly he asked for the brush and with great joy he received it. It was the one he had given her, their first night in London – the set with their monogram on it, meant to be shared by them.

"You have such lovely hair, Elizabeth. I have wanted to see it loosed since we became engaged." He brushed and brushed, mesmerized, until she finally stayed his hand.

"That is enough for tonight," she said quietly, her words an invitation to proceed. Slowly he placed his hands on her shoulders, and ever so gently kissed her neck. Elizabeth, giving in to the pleasure her husband offered her, closed her eyes and tilted her head to allow him greater access as a shallow moan escaped from her throat.

"Elizabeth," Darcy whispered between kisses. "If you wish me to stop, please say so. I would not so carelessly destroy what we have so carefully built."

She reached behind her to caress his leg. "Thank you, William. You are the best of men. But I do not think that will be necessary."

Darcy resumed his trail of kisses, and saw the beginnings of desire rising in his wife. He drew her to him and reclaimed her lips, resuming the kiss they had begun downstairs. Slowly, shyly, tentatively, their lips met again. As they learned to relax in each other's arms, their kisses deepened, one moment leading into another. In her husband's embrace, each with arms tightly around the other, Elizabeth felt safe, protected and… very definitely something much more.

Darcy picked up Elizabeth and took her to the bed, setting her down upon the cool linens. He sat beside her, his mouth meeting hers, his hand gently caressing her arm, the other to her shoulders, closing the space between them. Gradually Darcy drew back his face and when he saw no resistance in her eyes, he began to undo the fastenings of her gown. As it slipped off, Elizabeth faced the first moment she had wondered about, uncertain what her reaction would be: no man before had seen her fully undressed. But she had determined, when she had made her decision, that she would live in the moment and deal with the aftermath in the morning. By then it would be too late for remorse. What they would do would be done and they would, God willing, move on with rest of their lives together.

When the consummation of their union came, Elizabeth was surprised; she felt not embarrassment, only the rightness of her decision. It was the proper time, for her, for them, for their marriage. She had freely and completely given herself to her husband, the man and the choice her own, no matter what anyone else might think to the contrary. She was his and he was… hers.

The glowing embers in the fireplace provided the only light in the room. Darcy lay in his wife's bed, Elizabeth asleep once again in his embrace. He marveled at the events of the evening; never could he have imagined it would end as it had.

He thought back on their entire acquaintance, trying to puzzle out when he had come to want her so. Somehow, in the brief time since their marriage, she had become his sole object of desire. When he had come to her during the past few nights, he had wanted so much more than just to hold her; but he knew that anything beyond providing succor for her distress, without her explicit permission, would be wrong, and an abuse of her trust. Tonight, when she offered herself, he was almost at loss for words. Their coupling had been more incredible and satisfying than he could have ever imagined, nothing at all like the few times he had been with other women. How could he even compare her to them, to the hurried or impersonal relief they provided? He sensed that, for Elizabeth, the pleasure was secondary; for to her, the act itself was a vow, a giving of herself to him. And Darcy realized that he had made the same kind of vow to her.

'Bone of my bones. Flesh of my flesh. We are now one.'

Like a lightning bolt from the heavens, a revelation illuminated his mind. Could this be love? He looked again at her. She was so precious to him now. Could this be love? What was it that stirred within his breast; he admired her, respected her, and yes, desired her. But love her… he did not know; he had never been in love and was uncertain how he should feel. He resolved there and then to devote himself to finding out. And if this was love, how then… how would he make her love him in return?

Oh that damnable Darcy pride!

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