23rd December 1811

"Well, that wasn't entirely terrible," I declared mimicking Darcy's usual dry tone. This was the understatement of the century, but it would not do to praise him too highly. One must encourage people to keep aspiring to greater heights.

"You really are too kind," Darcy replied.

He had rolled over to the other side of the bed. I was feeling just a little bereft and wondering why he had felt the need to distance himself so promptly. He was probably being gentlemanly. When he made to move off of me I ought to have said, "Just lay there and sweat on me, it is quite all right. I am laying in a pool of sweat and other less decorous secretions anyway."

But I had not said anything and I did not know what I was suppose to do now. Were we really meant be so intimate then go to our respective side of the bed and sleep? And why did my side have to be so damp? I wanted to be close to him. I also wanted to escape this abominable vat of bodily broth lest I drown in it.

Darcy reached out and took my hand lacing his fingers through mine. That was something at least.

"Come here," he said, giving my hand a weak tug.

I complied, dragging myself until I was beside him. I put my head upon his chest. He made for a most uncomfortable pillow, but I was too fatigued to search for better accommodation.

After a bit of rest a question occurred to me. A question I found I must have the answer to immediately. Darcy was drowsing so I bit his nipple. Tit for tat—perfectly fair. He had done it to me and I had enjoyed it. Though he perhaps had not bitten me quite so hard.

"My God!" he exclaimed as he jolted awake. Then he muttered something about me being possessed by the devil followed by energetic blaspheming. And people say ladies overreact to being startled.

"I have questions."

"I never imagined you would not, though I thought perhaps we might catch our breathes before you began asking them."

I chose to ignore his scolding. "When you—" I began then promptly halted, how did one word this?

"When you . . .tasted my nectar—did you—did it—I hope it was not unpleasant."

Thankfully Darcy understood what I was trying to ask. "You taste like tea. Well, not precisely like tea. But not unpleasant."

Wonderful. Perhaps he might be persuaded do it again. Often. Soon.

Perhaps tomorrow.

At the latest.

But I was not going to mention it because I didn't want to seem greedy.

"So you will do it again?" Fine, I couldn't help but mention it.

"Indeed," he said. Most emphatically.

Lovely.

Another thought occurred to me. "You knew what you were doing!" I said accusingly.

"Thank you? Possibly I am sorry?" said Darcy with much beLizzyment.

"Mama told me gentlemen were either hopeless blunderers intent on their own enjoyment never mind their wives' pleasure, or they were lovers. And if they were the latter it was because they had extensive experience of a practical nature . . . or they had learned it all from books."

He understood the implication immediately. "Books! That is the origin of my expertise if that is indeed what you are accusing me of—or complimenting me for."

"So there really are such books?" I had been certain Mama was fabricating their existence.

"Yes."

"You have read them?"

"Yes."

"You possess such books?"

Darcy paused, sensing the trap. "Yes."

"I want to see one."

"Certainly not."

"Why not? Nothing can shock me now, I just did all the things," I argued.

"I assure you you have not done all the things."

"Are we going to do all the things?"

"Yes—no, perhaps not all."

"Why not all? Perhaps I want to do all the things."

"You do not," said Darcy with decided authority. Yet I was not swayed. "I might. I cannot know," I insisted.

"You should not know." He could not have uttered any sentence that would have convinced me less.

"Why should you get to decide? You should let me read some of your naughty books and let me decide for myself."

"You could never read such books. Not if you insist on calling it your Garden of Delight."

"What do they call it? What do you call it?"

"It is not something I would repeat in front of a lady."

I decided to ignore the absurdity of that statement and keep pressing my point. "I want to see your naughty book collection."

"I would not call it a collection."

"Do you have more than two books?"

His silence answered for itself.

"Then it is a collection."

I nudged him. Once. Twice. Incessantly. "Let me see it. If you do not I will assume it does not exist and I will have to conclude you got your experience elsewhere."

"You wish for me to show you my collection?" There was a cunningness to his tone. I knew if I could properly see his expression it would be fox-like.

"Yes." I agreed, because I was almost as eager to see whatever clever distraction he had thought of as I was his illicit literature.

Breaking our embrace, Darcy stood. With the ease of someone who knew the room he found his way to a candelabra and lit the tapers one by one. His form appeared out of the darkness. I kept my eyes demurely averted until he turned to light more candles allowing me to ogle. I really did not think it was a sight I would grow tired of anytime soon.

After much shuffling about in the wardrobe he produced an unlikely box. It was a case really. A small case, secured by a latch at both sides.

He placed it heavily upon the bed where I sat covered most carefully to the neck with the coverlet. Darcy sat down, covering himself insouciantly to the most minimal degree. He gestured for me to open the case. Conscious of his smirk, I undid the latches and lifted the lid of the case. The horrors I found therein where unthinkable.

I had heard about such men of course. The kind of creatures who kept this sort of collection. That my husband should be one was, well, unsurprising when one really thought about it—but that did not make the burden any easier to bear.

"You are an amateur geologist," I said with farcical revulsion.

"There is no need to say it like that."

"You have a box of stones."

As if it would make it better Darcy said, "There is a fossil or two in there as well."

"They have labels. Individual labels, Darcy—you've organized them," I said, keeping to my horrified act.

"They would hardly be much use if I had not."

"Jane's first suitor was an amateur geologist as well. He inherited quite a lot of money from a rich uncle and he thought he needed a hobby now that he was a gentleman properly. He was very dull to begin with I daresay, but his chosen hobby only made him duller still. He wrote Jane a poem comparing her to some sort of obscure mineral."

"Noted. I will not attempt any poetry."

Idly I picked up a stone from the case. In the poor light it looked nearly black, but there was hint of purple and a bit of sparkle.

"That is fluorite. Blue john colloquially," said Darcy too avidly.

I quickly put the stone back where I had found it. I have learned from my experiences with Dora that the key to not receiving an impromptu hour long lecture from an enthusiast about their chosen subject is to not let them get them started in the first place.

"Geology can be interesting."

I nodded exaggeratedly in reply.

He was not discouraged by my sarcasm. "Here, look, it is fossilized coral. I found it in a rock outcropping in Derbyshire. From this evidence we can only assume Derbyshire was covered by the sea several millennia ago. Is it not fascinating?"

"It is." I took the fossil from him and squinted at it. I could not imagine Derbyshire under the sea. It was difficult enough to imagine Derbyshire at all.

"To think how old the world is makes one feel one's life is rather insignificant, yet precious all the same," Darcy said as he returned his prize to its proper place.

In that moment realized I was terribly fond of him. That I was attracted to him—that I admired him had been evident to me for some time now, but fondness had seemed too quiet, too sweet an emotion to apply to my feelings toward Darcy.

It did not blaze like passion, it was subtle, it was furtive, it coaxed you out into the fen slowly so you did not realize where you were until you were quite mired. Fondness made you shrug your shoulders at even the oddest eccentricities and say, "He is such a trial, but I am so very fond of him." The poets never spoke of fondness, but they should. A sudden surety had come over me and I knew now that it was the most dangerous of all of Love's cousins.

I kissed his cheek.

"I am being dull, aren't I?" asked Darcy.

"No indeed."

"You just kissed me as if I were your great aunt and I daresay you are listening with the same polite attentiveness you would give to a dotty old lady as well."

"I do not have a great aunt unless you count your great aunt. I would like to hear you call Margaret dotty to her face. And I've never been polite to you before, I hardly think I would start now."

"There is that. But no matter the reason, I would not have you kiss me politely."

He kissed me then in that overwhelming way he usually did. Fortunately, I still had enough wits about me to anticipate him.

Catching hold of the coverlet before he could yank it away I said, "No. You will not distract me. I want to see your collection."

"You've seen it."

"This was not the collection I was talking about."

"Yes, but this collection is much less shameful."

"I do not know about that," I teased, then more seriously, "Show me your naughty books."

"You won't even let me see your naughty bits, why should I?"

"Perhaps we can come to an agreement."

"Oh?"

"If you let me see—nay, if you let me read one of your naughty books, I will let you see me unclothed with the candles alight."

"If you let me see—nay, if you let me visit your Garden of Delight while you are unclothed with the candles alight, I will let you read a book of my choosing from my illicit collection."

I knew he would choose the tamest book in his collection, but I also knew it was the best offer I was likely to get.

"All right we have an agreement."

Darcy stood. My eyes immediately began roaming.

"You are ogling me."

"Your powers of observation are most extraordinary, Darcy. It must be your scientific the turn of mind which gives you such perspicacity."

He teasingly gave the coverlet another tug in response.

"You keep your naughty books under your bed?" I asked as he knelt down and extracted a large box (much more promising) from beneath the four-poster.

"I did. I am going to move them because I know you are relentless and will sneak into them if I do not."

I could not refute this.

Still on the floor (and still deliciously nude) he selected a tome from the box.

"Here is your book."

I took the offering. "Tom Jones," I said, reading the cover. To add insult to injury it was only the first volume. "Not fair."

"You did not specify." He was most proud of himself.

"You, sir, are dishonorable."

"Indeed," he replied. Then he grabbed the coverlet away leaving me bare."And you, my dear, are beautiful."

I snatched it back, covering myself once more.

"Tom Jones does not count and you know it!"

"It was not originally part of my collection, no. I hid it to keep it away from Henrietta."

"You played me false."

"It is hardly my fault you are a poor bargainer, Lizzy." It was the first time he had called me Lizzy and I might have taken a moment to revel in the lovely sound of it from his lips if I had not been so determined to have my way.

I leaped at the box. I had to reveal my bare bottom in the process, but sometimes delicacy must be sacrificed in the pursuit of education. The exposure proved enough of a distraction, I reached the box before Darcy could stop me. Grabbing the first item my hand fell upon I yanked it from the box. It was a folio and the contents flew out, scattering everywhere.

"You have naughty pictures as well," I said picking up the nearest engraving.

"I collected those years ago—at university," he said. He was as shamefaced as a child caught sneaking sweets from the kitchen.

"I'm sure," I said, examining my catch. "This couple is copulating like livestock, rather how I thought it would be done actually. Can we try it like this?"

Darcy looked as though his cravat was too tight, except of course he was completely naked. He also appeared more aware of his nudity than he had been previously, he took greater pains to cover himself before finally answering, "Yes, of course."

"And this?" I asked holding up another illustration.

"Yes."

"And this?"

"At your service."

"Good Lord, perhaps not like that."

He made as if to snatch the pages away from me but then dropped his hand before he could execute the attempt. Clearly he knew me well enough to know any endeavors to stop me would only further my determination to see every illustration. "You are going to shock yourself so completely you never allow me to visit your garden again," he said.

"Oh, this one depicts two ladies and one gentleman. And here, two gentleman and one lady," I said, tilting my head this way and that as I looked at the engraving, trying to understand what exactly was meant to be happening. It seemed the addition of another participant rather complicated things.

"I would prefer to keep this just between us if it is all the same to you."

"I concur," I replied, my voice sounding hoarse.

"I told you you would be shocked."

"I am not shocked," I said. But perhaps it was time to put the illustrations down.

I grabbed for a book before Darcy could stop me. Nevertheless he tried to pull it from my grasp, I ignored him.

"Oh, this one is in French."

"You already have your book," he chided.

"Do not worry. I cannot read it anyway. If you had known how appallingly poor my French is you would have given me this book. My Italian is non-existent, by the way. And you've seen me at the instrument and on the dance floor. I could never be considered an accomplished woman by the lofty standards you laid out at Netherfield."

"You will remember Miss Bingley said most of that."

"Yes, your only contribution was that a woman should be well read. In the spirit of that—" I made another attempt at grabbing a book this time Darcy stopped me.

"How do you ever expect me to learn if you deny me education? I fear I will make for a very dull lover if I have no understanding of the possibilities."

"No man could find fault with your performance, I certainly cannot, and if another should I will have to kill him and not just for the crime of insulting you."

There is something about an otherwise perfectly reasonable man threatening to murder someone for one's honor that is thrillingly delightful. It is not a sensible delight, but it is a delight all the same.

"Mr. Darcy, are you threatening to duel my fictitious lovers?"

"Yes, Mrs. Darcy, I am."

Darcy made as if to kiss me, I used the opportunity to dive for another book.

"Fanny Hill—hey! That one looked perfectly harmless!" I said as Darcy snatched the book away.

"It isn't."

"It said it was a memoir. And I have seen it before."

"Have you? In your father's library?" he asked doubtfully.

"No, I saw Mama reading it. That is why I remembered the title. She rarely ever reads anything longer than a gossip sheet. Is it truly a naughty book?"

"Quite." Darcy chuckled. I did not see how my mother reading naughty books was amusing. The thought of it made me slightly ill.

"I should be allowed to read it if my mother has read it."

"I cannot give you this book. I keep from you it not only for the sake of your morality, but also because it is illegal and I do not wished to see you in gaol for it."

"That book is illegal?"

"Yes," replied Darcy, "They all are."

"What is the penalty if one is caught in possession of one?"

"Transportation."

"Really?!"

"Or possibly confiscation and a small fine. I'm not certain."

I was undeterred by threat of punishment. "I want another book."

"You have your book."

"It does not count!"

"You have your book and now you must fulfill your half of the bargain," said Darcy as he gathered the other end of the coverlet which guarded me.

I clung tighter to my shield. "I will not forget you perfidy."

"Dearest, I am going to make you forget your name."

That sounded most promising. I released the coverlet.

24th December 1811

Morning

"You have crumbs on your Mountains of Ecstasy," said Darcy as we feasted on a decadent (and rather messy) breakfast in bed.

"My what?"

"If you call your nether regions your Garden of Delight I can only assume those are your Mountains of Ecstasy," he said with a gesture towards my poorly covered bosom. The late morning sun was blazing through the windows and he could see me quite clearly but I had overcome my maidenly modesty during the night.

"I think it would be a bit presumptuous to call them mountains. Hills of Ecstasy, perhaps. No, to say hills is still too much an exaggeration. They are Knolls of Ecstasy, and deficient ones at that. "

"Do not denigrate your knolls, I rather like them."

"I rather like you, Mr. Darcy," I replied unthinkingly, surprising myself.

"Fortunate. You may never be able to rid yourself of me now. Last night's proceedings greatly reduced your likelihood of an annulment. You would have to perjure yourself to claim I am impotent. Madness is all that is left to you."

"Madness may claim me yet. With this ball and Lady Whisperton to attend to I do not know how I shall cope."

"I do not think you could plan better for the ball than you already have, and as for Lady Whisperton I am certain that matter will resolve itself."

I turned to him, shocked by his nonchalant attitude. Visiting my Garden had clearly mellowed him. Or possibly addled him.

He further astounded me by saying, "I have been thinking perhaps you should invite your family to stay. It would give them the chance to enjoy the masquerade and me a chance to get to know them properly."

"There is such a thing as going too far in an apology."

"I do not suggest it merely for the sake of apology."

"Apology would be the only sensible reason to suggest such a thing. You cannot understand. Mama and my younger sisters will be unbearable. I love them. And they have many fine qualities—a few fine qualities—but with a ball on the horizon, no. I could not bear it. Not right now. We will have to invite them sometime, of course. But not now."

Certainly not now. Getting Mama to leave after she had worn out her welcome would be difficult, I knew. I wanted to enjoy my marriage before enduring Mama. Darcy and I were only just starting to like each other. I could not risk it now.

"All right. Some other time, then."

"Perhaps instead I might invite my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner to the ball."

"Your mother's brother. The one in trade?" he asked. To his credit he did not allow his tone to sound at all haughty.

"He is nothing like Mama. You will actually like them. They are a credit to me, the only civilized family members I have to offer beyond Jane. I should like to see them. I have called on them since I arrived in town, of course. But they will not return the call. They were not certain you would find it proper."

"Of course you should invite them to the ball. And invite them to dine with us at the earliest date they are available. Snobbish arse I might be but I hope you never thought me so cruel as to bar your relations from visiting?"

"Only for a short while. It quickly became apparent to me one of the most kind and generous gentlemen I had ever known. Yet still oddly a snobbish arse it is very confusing."

"Then I must endeavor to be less confusing," Darcy said, then he kissed me. And for awhile both breakfast and ball were forgotten.

"I am not leaving this bed today. Perhaps not all week," I said sometime later.

"Well, tomorrow is Christmas so I think at the very least we will have to go to church."

The man can make one forget what day it is.

"So tomorrow we must venture out. But we have today."

"Yes, all of today," Darcy agreed. "Plenty of time for me to further display my kindness and generosity."

Before I could demonstrate my delight at his words a knock sounded at the outer door.

"Sir, a problem has arisen," said the voice of Darcy's valet.

Darcy threw on a dressing gown before going to the door and opening it just a crack. Whispering ensued.

My husband closed the door then turned slowly to face me, his expression was like a funeral. I feared the worst.

"Has something happened to Georgie? Your cousins?"

"No, no tragedy has occurred," Darcy said. He attempted to smile. He failed miserably. "Your family is here."