P&P:TUS Starting the Rest of Their Lives

Starting the Rest of Their Lives

November 18, 1812

The wedding breakfast had been everything it was supposed to be. Loud, crowded, a table well-set, and a house full of flowers. A gushing mother, a satisfied—or was it relieved—father, and a blushing bride, surrounded by her dearest connections. Her aunts had praised her, her sisters envied her, and her friends congratulated her while he watched and enjoyed her pleasure.

But now it was over and time to start the rest of his life—their lives—together.

Most of her trunks had been sent on ahead, but the two that were to accompany them today were waiting, already loaded on the luggage wagon with his. How well they looked together, his sturdy and somber, matched and well-kept, hers worn and well used, mismatched and playfully boasting the marks of much travel.

It was a ridiculous thought to be sure. One of many he had begun to entertain since regularly keeping company with Elizabeth.

Darcy waited for her near the carriage. He had already taken his leave from the Bennets and the Gardiners. The latter, they would meet again soon in London—a dinner had already been set at the Gardiners’ house for a fortnight hence. Was it ridiculous to be pleased to have connections he could truly look forward to seeing in London, not just the ones he tolerated for the sake of civility?

A light snow began to fall. Not the kind that would impede their travel, but the gentle sort one could hear falling if one was quiet enough. The kind that would dust the countryside in a veil of white, much like the one Elizabeth wore this morning. The kind she enjoyed.

A perfect send off from Longbourn.

The front door swung open creaking in complaint at being pressed into service. Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth emerged.  He walked her to the coach, his eyes suspiciously bright.

“So, the time has finally come for you to take my Lizzy from me. I cannot delay you any longer.” He patted Elizabeth’s hand tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Take good care of her—you are taking the brightest light from Meryton.”

“Oh, Papa.” She leaned up on tiptoes and kissed her father’s cheek.

“I shall, sir.” He took Elizabeth’s hand, helped her into the carriage and climbed in after her.

Mr. Bennet shut the door behind him and waved the driver on.

The carriage lurched, forcing him back into the buttery leather squabs beside her.

Elizabeth straightened her bonnet and peered out of the side glass, waving until the road turned and Longbourn was out of view. Her smile faded for just a moment, but returned when she glanced at him.

He slipped his arm over her shoulders and she settled in against him.

Was it the warm bricks heating the coach or her nearness that brought the perspiration to his forehead?

 Her cheeks glowed—did she feel it, too?

The glint in her eye and the mischievous turn of her lips suggested she did.
“So, Mr. Darcy, now you are an old married man—”

“I am indeed a man, and now I am married, but I am hardly old.” His eyebrow rose and he cocked his head.

She batted her eyes, beaming. “That is a most inappropriate expression, Mr. Darcy.”

The way her eyes sparkled when she smiled, such a wholly appealing and desirable—and kissable expression.

What was a man—a married man to do? He kissed her, slow and gentle, relishing each moment.

“I hardly expect that would be considered appropriate, either,” she whispered in his ear, her breath tickling the side of his neck just so.

She was trying to drive him mad.

“Now you are concerned with what is appropriate? My dearest Elizabeth, if you give it any real consideration, propriety has not been something amply present in our relationship from the start.”

She drew in a deep breath and pressed her hand to her chest. “What are you saying, sir? Are you accusing me—”

“You consider scampering about the countryside, alone and unchaperoned, highly appropriate behavior for a young woman?” He schooled his features into something quite severe—or at least he hoped they were.

“And meeting said young woman to walk, alone and unchaperoned, is equally inappropriate for a gentleman is not? In fact, I seem to recall a certain gentleman calling upon said young woman her and discovering she was alone in the house. Yet, he did not leave, but stayed and insisted upon speaking with her alone.”

“Have you forgotten, an offer of marriage is traditionally offered in a private audience?”

She harrumphed playfully, “Perhaps that is true, but an appropriate man does not make suggestive comments about the figures of the ladies in his company as they take a walk about the room.”

He was only remarking upon the figure of one of those ladies that day.

Elizabeth looked too smug.

“And it is fully appropriate to accept a letter from an unrelated man and then read said letter? Multiple times?”

“No less appropriate than the gentleman who writes such a letter. Besides how would you know how many times the letter was read?”

The high color in her face confirmed what he suspected—it had been many times indeed.

“So, then you fully agree, propriety has perhaps not been the primary characteristic of our courtship.”

“Perhaps you are correct, sir. Now I am an old married woman, I shall see to it all matters of propriety are carefully attended to.” She folded her hands in her lap and lifted her chin, just so.

“I want nothing of the sort.” He tugged the ribbon on her bonnet and the knot fell away. A gentle touch and the bonnet slipped back to reveal her lovely hair, done up with ribbons and pearls. The gauzy white veil pooled over her shoulder like a dusting of snow.

“I have no intention of being proper for at least a fortnight.”

Her eyes grew wide, a touch of genuine surprise in them. “A fortnight, sir? Will not the servants talk?”

“Perhaps you have a point. I will restrain myself to just five days—and to be entirely certain no untoward talk circulates, there will be no servants.”

“You cannot be serious, sir—how will the house run with no staff?”

He pressed his lips together. She would not appreciate being laughed at just now, but her bewilderment was entirely amusing.

“I said nothing about the house. You have not asked me our destination.”

“We are not to Darcy house?”

“We are, but by way of my friend Wingrave’s cottage.”

She cocked her head, a faraway look in her eye—her thinking expression that he enjoyed so much. “Is he not the baronet whose seat is—”

“But five miles from here? Yes, he is. He and his family are to be away for the Christmastide season. He has a cottage on his property and has offered us the use of it. The housekeeper will attend us in the mornings and evenings—so I suppose we shall have to maintain some minimal propriety whilst we are there.”

“What are you saying, sir?”

“Only that I intend to spend the next five days being entirely inappropriate with you, Mrs. Darcy. I am going to remark on your figure and how it is shown to its best advantage, no less than—what say you, five times a day?”

“Only five?” The mischief returned to her eyes.

Yes, she was pleased!

“Will there be time for more? I expect you will be scampering about the countryside, unchaperoned, and in the company of a man a very great consequence.”

“Will that man write me letters?”

“Will he need to when he is left alone to converse with you as much as he might like?”

“And about what will he converse? Will it be inappropriate?”

She ran her tongue over her lips.

He leaned in to kiss those lips.

The carriage rolled to a stop. “Lavender Cottage,” the driver called.

He grumbled under his breath.

She laid a finger on his lips. “A show of temper is highly inappropriate, sir.”

“I will show you inappropriate, Mrs. Darcy.” He helped her down from the carriage and swept her off her feet, carrying her into the waiting cottage.

Hours later, he gazed at her sleeping face, the blush had not faded from her cheeks and the smile had not faded from her lips. It seemed his Elizabeth relished impropriety as much as he.

 

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