A few weeks had passed, and Hannah had settled into her new role as lady's maid at Pemberley quite well after giving the inn some notice. Elizabeth was thrilled that she accepted the role once offered, but there was a quiet understanding that from then on there would be complete transparency between them.

Even after just a week together, nothing went by Hannah's keen eye. One morning, as she was brushing and styling Elizabeth's hair for the day, they were chatting about the lady's upcoming appointments and duties. "And the modiste is due to arrive within an hour or so after breakfast, so you best speak your mind before then and rid yourself of opinion, my lady."

Elizabeth grimaced. She had only ever visited a modiste once in her life in London when she was due to come out at her first ball, at the insistence of her mother. Jane had also been required to attend such a task, but many years prior after she was out in society at the tender age of fifteen; Elizabeth refused to come out until seventeen. Even afterwards, the Bennet women only ever paid for simpler dresses at the local dressmaker in Meryton. The idea of a modiste designing her entire wardrobe as mistress of Pemberley, especially being rich enough to afford the modiste to come to her, still had not settled in her stomach.

She huffed softly and grimaced again as Hannah put the finishing touches on. "I simply do not see why I must forego my current attire. It is perfectly acceptable."

Hannah flashed a small smile as she wrangled the final stray piece of lock. "Tis perfectly acceptable for a country lass, ma'am. But as one of the most formidable mistresses of the country now, your dress must match your station." Elizabeth harrumphed again but did not argue. Hannah laid her hands gently on Elizabeth's shoulder and locked eyes with her in the mirror. "Just think of the look upon Mr. Darcy's face when you first walk into a room in your new gowns."

She didn't miss the blush upon Elizabeth's cheeks. Nor did the fact that her mistress never visited the master's bedchamber. The lady of the house was close to ten years her junior, and very obviously still an innocent. Hannah had only seen Mrs. Darcy interact a handful of times with her husband since arriving, but now knowing Elizabeth as she did, knew something weighed on her mind.

Hannah had begun to clean up the discarded night clothes as Elizabeth stood and prepared to descend for breakfast. She cleared her throat but kept her away averted. "What color does Mr. Darcy like best?"

Elizabeth blinked. "I am not sure."

Hannah shrugged and continued to tidy up, moving about the room. "No matter, I shall just ask the master's valet, Parsons. We should make sure some of your ball gowns match your husband's attire." Elizabeth simply nodded deep in thought before departing.

The morning routine with Darcy and Georgiana became quite familiar and steady for Elizabeth, an event she looked forward to each day. Mostly, she and Georgiana chatted, getting to know one another, but each day Darcy revealed a little more of himself to her in subtle responses and even a few jests. It was clear that his quiet in the morning was quite normal, especially if it was before at least two cups of coffee.

"Tis a necessary evil we must partake, Georgiana," he said with a warm smile. "There is no use in dreading the task but instead must take it on without complaint." Elizabeth arched an eyebrow as they rose from the breakfast table to depart for the day. Evidently, Georgiana was also to be fitted for new gowns, and she also detested the act. He continued, "Why you must continue to grow like a weed, I do not know, but please cease at any time."

Georgiana playfully glared at him. "I believe you meant to compare me to a rose or perhaps an ivy."

Darcy grinned. "No, a weed comparison plays out quite nicely." Elizabeth laughed and they locked eyes a moment, before continuing towards the entryway. Then Darcy stopped abruptly, causing the women to glance at him in confusion. And then they also heard the voice from down the hall. "Oh no," Darcy murmured a moment before their guests entered the parlor.

"Mr. Darcy!" a quite rotund man cried, spotting the gentleman. His accent was heavily French and his mannerisms were almost as elaborate as his incredible mustache. He immediately bowed to the trio, but before Darcy could even return the favor, he moved into his space and kissed each of his cheeks with fervor. Elizabeth had to hide her smile behind her hand at the look on Darcy's face. "Magnifique! You are looking quite well!" He turned towards her, his enormous belly leading the way. "Ah, I can see why!" He bowed very low, nearly sweeping the floor. "Monsieur Laurent, at your service, Madam Darcy."

Elizabeth grinned and curtsied, but she and Georgiana were not immune to his affections upon their cheeks as well. It took Elizabeth another moment before she noticed the quiet woman behind Monsieur Laurent. He followed her eyes and motioned towards the woman. "Ah! My sister, Arabelle. She shall be designing your gowns, madam, as I update Mr. Darcy's wardrobe."

"My wardrobe does not need updating, Monsieur, I assure you," Darcy replied with an arched brow.

"Absurbite! It has been several months since your visit to my shop in London, sir. Once Arabelle told me of her appointment to Pemberley, I knew I must accompany her." He motioned towards Elizabeth. "And do you not wish to look handsome for your new bride?"

"Tis a necessary evil we must partake," Elizabeth repeated to Darcy quietly, her tone teasing. He met her eyes and could not help but smile back at the sheer mischief he found there. His voice was lost in his throat at the sight, and he could only nod silently.

"Splendid!" Monsieur Laurent exclaimed, clapping his hands. "Come, Mr. Darcy, come! Let us leave the ladies to it. Show me to your quarters and reveal to me how you've mistreated my garments with that wretched horse of yours. Merde!"

Darcy gave Georgiana and Elizabeth a pained look, that she could not help but giggle at his expression. Hearing it, Darcy grinned again, their eyes locked. Time stretched, and laughter left Elizabeth, but a gentle smile remained on her face, her body warming. "Mistreatment of garments is indeed a great offense, sir. Pray, keep that in mind."

Darcy was able to find his voice once more, but leaving her in this playful state was the last thing he desired. Neither noticed Georgiana watching them keenly, a bright smile on her lips. "I shall do my very best, madam." Several beats of silence passed as they stared at one another, before he knew he must go. Turning away, he began to take his leave, but stopped once more when he felt Elizabeth's hand on his forearm. He looked down on it in wonder for a moment before meeting her eyes once more.

Elizabeth unknowingly blushed at the look in his eye, a look that caused a wriggle in her belly. She cleared her throat. "Pray, what color is your favorite?"

He blinked at her before blurting out, "Green." She nodded once in response, but allowed Monsieur Laurent to whisk him away in the next moment.

With a deep breath, she turned towards Georgiana and Mademoiselle Laurent. "Shall we begin?"

"Oui."

"Non."

"Non! Non!"

"Mmmhmm, oui."

As robust of a conversationalist her brother might be, Mademoiselle Laurent had a vocabulary of exactly two words, which transitioned depending on the fabric that she placed over Elizabeth's shoulder.

Georgiana watched from her chair and Elizabeth stood for the modiste patiently, although the fatigue was beginning to show upon her face. Hannah had also arrived to help sort the fabric and clean up what the mademoiselle tossed aside, her concentration clearly only on Elizabeth.

"Non. Non. Non."

Elizabeth fingered the sage green silk next to her that was previously discarded. "Perhaps this one? May we try this again?"

Mademoiselle Laurent glared at the fabric as if it somehow offended her, but she picked it up and draped it over Elizabeth's shoulder once more. "Non." Before Elizabeth could interject, she next laid a deep green lace to overlay the silk and a rare smile appeared at the complementary accent. "Oui."

"Tis a lovely pairing, my lady," Hannah said, her arms laden with silks and satins. "I have not yet seen green on you."

Mademoiselle's head shot up and she glared at Hannah. "Émeraude." Their eyes all widened. Three words officially spoken.

"Émeraude," repeated Hannah softly. She turned to Georgiana and Elizabeth once the modiste turned away and whispered, "Tis lovely, Mrs. Darcy. What made you select –" she made sure not to be overheard "- green?"

Georgiana answered for her. "Tis my brother's favorite color." A deep blush overcame Elizabeth's face and she could not reply. Georgiana prodded, confused. "Isn't that why you asked him earlier, dear sister? A very kind gesture to be sure."

Hannah did not say anything to further embarrass her mistress, but she bit her lip in an attempt to hide her smile.

"Ahem!"

All three ladies jolted to attention. Mademoiselle Laurent was ready to begin measurements and they, in turn, must subject themselves to it immediately.

Elizabeth was lost in thought. Hannah was quietly brushing her hair for bed time, and she allowed her mistress to continue silently knowing without asking that she needed it. It had been a few weeks since her determination to make the first move into Darcy's bedchamber and secure her marriage by God and law. To be truthful, she was intensely curious of the act, and also terrified how it would be with Darcy. Her feelings towards him were a mish mash of confusion. She was actively trying to engage the man into some sort of congenial relationship; she would not survive this marriage if they did not have some sort of pleasant demeanor toward one another. But she also had not forgotten his ill treatment of Jane and of Wickham.

Hannah had just finished her braid before moving to gather Elizabeth's typical night dress, but she stopped the maid with a hand. "I shall need the chemise this evening, Hannah," she murmured softly.

Hannah's eyebrows shot up, but she did not speak, quietly finding the thin muslin cloth and helping her mistress into it. With a shy shrug, Elizabeth put her dressing robe on immediately, but stood taller, as if bracing herself for the inevitable.

"Not all marriages begin with love, my lady," Hannah said suddenly. Elizabeth tensed. "In fact, most do not. But if you seek it, love may very well find its way into one's union."

Elizabeth looked to Hannah, and the maid was heartbroken to see a deep sadness in the depths of her eyes. Elizabeth sighed, "I shall be content with amiability. Good night, Hannah."

Hannah curtsied, recognizing the dismissal. "Good night, my lady." And then left the room.

Deep breaths. Several deep breaths in and out. Elizabeth straightened her shoulders once more in her bathing room before taking the plunge and opening the door to Darcy's adjoining toilet.

All was quiet, but the next door was open and revealed a sliver of a room beyond, mostly dark except for the light from the fire. Elizabeth peered in, grasping the edges of her dressing gown closer to her body.

Darcy was seated by the fire in one of two arm chairs, reading a book. His waist coat was missing, and his cravat was tossed onto a nearby table, allowing his throat to be exposed in firelight. Elizabeth stepped inside the room and cleared her throat. Darcy startled, but stood immediately and bowed to her. "Elizabeth."

She cleared her throat again nervously but walked a few paces more inside."Mr. Darcy. I...I thought perhaps I might come to...to see you."

Darcy blinked but then gestured toward the second of the two chairs. "Please join me." Elizabeth blinked back, pulled her dressing down tighter once more, and sat down. Darcy did the same.

They sat silently for many minutes, until Darcy grabbed a second of two books next to him and handed her one. She took it gratefully with a tense smile and they attempted to read, but neither absorbed a word.

Unable to keep still a moment longer, Elizabeth stood abruptly, causing Darcy to follow suit. He watched as she made her way to his bed following her mother's instructions in her head to the letter. As soon as it became clear what she meant to do, Darcy spoke. "Elizabeth, no."

She turned to face him, fear prominent in her eyes. "No?" She stopped in her progress. "Please forgive me, I fear I must have missed a step. Perhaps this frock is to be removed first? Yes, that seems correct." She tentatively removed her dressing gown and placed it on the end of the imposing bed.

Darcy sucked in a sharp breath. She had never looked so exquisite. Her night dress was practically sheer by the low light of the fire. Closing his eyes a moment painfully to make every attempt not to touch her, he resolved himself. "No, please stop at once." He walked to the bed and picked up her dressing gown, preparing it to cover her once more.

Elizabeth did not take the garment. "Sir, I do not understand."

Darcy thought if he made sure to only look upon her face and not the outline of her lithe body beneath the muslin that it would calm his own somewhat. But her eyes reflecting the flames of the fire and her lovely hair thrown over her shoulder almost sent him to his knees then and there. He cleared his throat. "I cannot."

It took Elizabeth several moments to understand but she took in a sharp breath. Anger and shame coursed through her. She was being rejected. "Cannot, or will not?"

To her utter shock, Darcy exploded. He tossed her dressing gown haphazardly back on the bed and turned from her to grab roughly onto the mantel and stare into the fire. To look anywhere but her. "Cannot and will not! Can you imagine for a moment this torture for me?" At her silence he spun around and she was shocked to see a storm of emotions in his eyes. "I will not have you in this state of…of…duty! Tis unbearable."

"Unbearable?"

"Quite!" She had never seen him so out of sorts. "The woman I love - the same woman who despises me - I cannot have. My mind and body will not allow me to force myself onto you even with your permission. It's obscene," he spat out. "So yes, I cannot and will not have you. Not like this."

Elizabeth sucked on her teeth in thought. Her heart ached for him in that moment but her problem still remained. "And what of me? We are not truly married until this act occurs. I could still be ruined."

Darcy once more stalked over to tower over her. His chest was heaving and his hands crackled with effort not to take hold of something. Of her. "I will not let that happen. It shall never happen. If our union means absolutely anything to you, trust in this: you shall always have my protection, Elizabeth. Always."

His eye caught on a wayward sleeve of her chemise that had fallen off her shoulder. They both watched as his fingers moved on their own accord and slowly and tantalizingly brushed her skin and placed the fabric back in its rightful position. The place where the pads of his fingers on her skin seared her.

He chanced a glance to her eyes and they locked on one another for a long moment. The air crackled between them and Darcy wasn't sure how much more resolve he had inside, but her words of disgust still haunted him, and he was truthful in everything he said: his body and mind abhorred the thought of having her without her enthusiastic reciprocation.

Elizabeth swallowed hard, but she understood. It was not lost on her that he still loved her, and his actions tonight proved just that. It was much to take in. And she now realized she trusted him on his word.

She leaned up on her tip toes, and brushed a soft kiss to his cheek. Darcy stilled, attempting to sear the feeling of her lips on his skin forever. With a small smile to him, Elizabeth gathered her dressing gown, and removed herself back to her own bedchamber, leaving Darcy equal parts aching and flushed with want.