"Do you even care for who I am?" She struggled not to whimper, not to fall apart at the seams as she confronted the one man who had grown so much in importance to her over the past months.
He surprised her by grasping her shoulders. The fire in his eyes ignited in an entirely different way.
His voice emerged like a growl, "I care for nothing and no one more."
She blinked, her eyes brimming of their own accord. Any previous efforts she had at ebbing her tears collapsed in his presence.
"Then - then why - " Now, her sniffs and whimpers flowed.
"Elizabeth, Elizabeth - please, do not cry." He lifted his hands to her face, gently wiping at her tears. Gently, he tilted her face towards him. He was so very tall. "I cannot bear to see you suffer."
She shook her head slightly, unhappy with her own lack of control. "I thought - I feared - "
"I value you, Elizabeth," her husband whispered, his face hovering mere inches against hers. The warmth of his body emanated strongly, engulfing her in an intangible embrace. "And I fear that my growing attachment and admiration have caused me only to lay unwarranted accusations at your feet."
"So do I," Elizabeth added. She no longer sobbed, but she sniffed, nonetheless. "I - I admire you, Fitzwilliam, and I have hoped so dearly that you see some good in me as well."
He kissed her, swiftly, the warmth of his lips consuming hers. He pulled back only by the tiniest fraction. "Of course I do."
Drunk on the sensation, she leaned up to kiss him once more, her arms quickly reaching around his shoulders to anchor herself fully against him. Her husband clearly did not protest, as he gathered her close until the very clothes on their bodies seemed to mean nothing as their pulses entwined. He kissed her deeply, ardently; she kissed him with equal and total abandon.
These were not the stolen kisses of a girlhood crush, nor the guilty entanglements of a scandalous affair.
Every touch, every kiss, every sigh served only to further the irrefutable sense of rightness and resolution of the moment. She was his, and he was hers. Not a person in the world could argue against those very facts.
"Elizabeth," he whispered hoarsely, when their relocation to her bed caused them to temporarily break apart. She clung to his shoulders, her trembling fingers and his grasp on her waist preventing her from sliding off from her perch on his lap. "You shall always matter - to me."
She kissed him again, their bodies both raging with the fervor of marital exploration.
It did not take long for her to land on her back, her husband over her, with the majority of their clothing strewn to oblivion.
He kissed her gently, tender, every touch of his lips a declaration of genuine care.
"May I stay, Wife?" He whispered against her ear, his broad chest pressed against her barely-covered one.
Elizabeth smiled, whimpering shamelessly now. "I most certainly hope so, Husband."
The weeks that followed flitted by in a whirl of happiness. Every morning felt sweeter, every afternoon warmer, and every evening proved a tantalizing blend of domesticity and passion. Any uncertainty Elizabeth may have felt before in the presence of her husband fell fully away with every additional day she spent in his arms.
He was considerate and kind, firm yet gentle. The ways he would woo her - with books and rides and walks around her garden - endeared him to her with increasing attachment every passing day.
After their initial argument, Elizabeth observed how her Fitzwilliam took pains to express his preference towards her, particularly in the presence of the servant girls. The change was unnecessary - for he hardly needed to indulge her petty jealous whims. But it was an alteration that she appreciated to the utmost.
She herself had her ways to mend, and she watched her words and interactions slightly more carefully than she used to before the night that changed their lives so very permanently. Georgiana, bless her heart, hardly seemed to notice - and only thrived at the cheerful tranquility that constantly filled Pemberley these days.
The fact that Elizabeth had never dreamed of such a life before did not seem to prove relevant in the landscape of her current happiness. The thought that she never knew her husband existed a mere season ago - that she had no eyes for him during the tumultuous months prior to Jane's wedding - barely ever occurred to Elizabeth. And whenever it did, she laughed it off as a passing fancy.
Who, in the presence of true happiness, could ever rue that life were any other way?
Her husband spoiled her, in such varied ways. He spoiled her heartily with every material comfort - ever quick to request for more of her favorite dresses, dishes, or books. He spoiled her with his chivalrous words and inquiries after her health. He spoiled her with kisses, with touches, and smiles, bringing her with him to heights of passion that she had never known to be attainable before.
It was altogether a blissful life.
It was a life Elizabeth cherished and thrived in with all of her being.
The echoes of Longbourn, tried as they did to haunt her, only ever managed to do so occasionally.
Here, in Pemberley, she was Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy - and that identity alone was sufficient for her.
"You seldom write as much as you used to, Lizzy," Georgiana remarked one morning, two months after that fateful night. The pile of letters that adorned the table looked haphazardly thrown together, particularly in contrast with the pristine decor of the rest of the room.
Elizabeth smiled. Her husband had promised to be done quickly with his business today. She eagerly awaited his return that afternoon. "I suppose I find little reason to write these days."
"Are you unhappy?" asked Georgiana, her eyes innocent and bright.
"Of course not," Elizabeth assured. She tried to refrain from smiling too widely as she reflected upon the private dance she and Fitzwilliam had shared the night before. "We lead a wonderful life."
"Pemberley is most wonderful indeed." Georgiana sighed. "I am glad to see you enjoying yourself, Lizzy."
"Of course."
"You mean so very much to Fitzwilliam and me." Georgiana continued to sort through the letters. "I could hardly bear it if you wish you hadn't joined us here."
"But I am glad, Georgie, most heartily so."
"Then I am glad as well." The young Miss Darcy smiled. Elizabeth joined her in the task.
The ladies sifted through the envelopes in companionable silence, one or the other always humming a happy tune.
"From Longbourn?" Elizabeth noted, a moment later, when she found the the thickest letter in the pile.
"That is your family's estate, isn't it?"
"Yes."
Quickly, Elizabeth moved to open the letter.
The contents that fell on her lap were rumpled, rugged, and clearly hastily put together.
She frowned as she picked up the first page.
Oh Elizabeth, you must come!
Jane, our darling Jane, has lost her child and is frankly quite inconsolable. Mr. Bingley has graciously noted that he does not blame our dear Jane, but what heartbreak she is suffering for this loss! The wonderful news of her being with child has hardly reached every ear in Hertfordshire before the devastating story of the lost babe followed soon after. With Miss Bingley marrying the viscount in two days, there is hardly a soul left in Netherfield to assist your sister. Our dear Charles, for all his kindness, could not be called upon to administer sensitive things to a woman, as you would know. I can hardly bear the thought of their household remaining in such chaotic disarray.
Come, Lizzy, you must join us to aid your sister. It is imperative that you do.
Sealed along with this letter are your father's and your sisters' requests. Please do heed us.
Sincerely,
Your loving mother
And in a span of a few paragraphs, Elizabeth's newfound world of bliss, seclusion, and joy began to splinter.
A/N: Yey, Darcy and Elizabeth! Boo, Jane!