Mr Darcy's Bride

2. A Private Moment in the Parlour

Mr Darcy guided Lizzie to the main parlour room of Pemberley House. He explained that this was the room Mrs Darcy was to host her guests, for the view of the Lakes were exceptional in the afternoon, especially in weather such as today. Plus the music room was across the hall, making it easy for entertaining.

"But sir you know I do not play," Lizzie said as they made their way. "Plus I doubt we will be having many guests to Pemberley, for I will have nothing of interest to say to them."

"And why is that," Mr Darcy enquired, seeming relieved somewhat that he won't have to perform for any company anytime soon.

"Well I doubt anyone would find my days shut up in Pemberley's library very interesting, well Mary might," Lizzie added, thinking of her dear inquisitive sister. "Plus Jane will be busy running her own house now. But I'm sure when Mr Bingley's sister stops by, Jane will suddenly find that is the only time she has to write to me." Mr Darcy chuckled.

They had arrived at the door of the parlour, and Mr Darcy, being of course the utmost gentleman in England, opened the door for his wife. Lizzie entered and he closely followed, sneaking an arm around her waist and stood behind her, the door closing tightly behind them.

"Do you think Miss Bingley will find Jane's writing as fascinating as she did yours," Lizzie teased.

"Miss Bingley's only interest in life is to be the centre of the room, to command it's narrative for her own gain. Now with no gentleman nearby, Miss Bingley I'm sure will find Netherfield to be quite boring."

Lizzie suddenly felt Mr Darcys hand brush an escaped curl from her neck and she could feel his warm words on her skin, she shivered with pleasure. Mr Darcy continued.

"I'm quite certain Jane will be safe from her imprudent behaviour for a while, and as for us. Miss Bingley's jealousy will keep her at bay for a very long time." Mr Darcy allowed his finger to trace the side of his wife's cold neck, trailing it to the edge of her dresses neckline. Brushing the small pleated organza that decorated it.

"So sir, you admit I had competition." Lizzie taunted, turning her gaze to watch his fingers fiddle at her neckline.

"The only competition you had with Miss Bingley was who could frustrate me the most. But even then the competition was already in your favour Mrs Darcy, for I wanted to be frustrated by you." He said, his mouth close to her ear. She could feel his restraint struggling as he lingered on the last words.

A small bell rung and they both jumped. Recoiling back into reality, Mr Darcy quickly led Lizzie to the pale blue sofas. Lizzie with no hesitation sat down and smoothed her dress out. "Enter," called Mr Darcy looking towards the door.

A maid entered carrying a silver tray decorated with floral china and scolding fresh tea. She neatly placed it on the dainty wooden table in the middle of the parlour. She poured the tea elegantly, Lizzie wondered if the servants of Pemberley have extra formal training, for she could never imagine her own housekeeper at Longbourn to be this delicate while serving tea. The maid bowed and swiftly left.

In that time Mr Darcy had made his way over to the window, his magnificent stature held Lizzie's gaze. My god, she thought, he really is so handsome.

"I will go and fetch my dear sister, I am sure she will be so pleased that you have arrived. She is eager to richen your relationship." He smiled at the thought.

His heart was light knowing his sister and wife were already so enriched in each other. And he found, for the first time, that he was grateful Lizzie had such a large family. Lizzie was candescent with maternal love, he had seen it in her relationship with her dear Jane.

"As am I dear husband," Lizzie smiled back as he glided over to her. He hesitated slightly before gently pressing his lips to Lizzes forehead. Then he left the room.