The fact that Darcy had cut Miss Bingley in Bond Street shortly after his marriage made her stiffen in indignation. He could not possibly have been moved to act in such an offensive and demeaning manner toward her without the influence and manipulation of his wife. She obviously held a great deal of sway over him, though Miss Bingley could hardly understand why, especially after noticing how Elizabeth’s fashionable gown seemed to fit her somewhat unfashionably, a clear indication she was not quite as slender as when they had all first known her. This, Miss Bingley decided, could only be to her advantage, and she would certainly use it to turn Darcy’s attention from Elizabeth and toward herself.

“Pray, Eliza, might I persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room? It is so refreshing after sitting for so long in one attitude.”

Her brow raised, Elizabeth glanced at Darcy, whose equal surprise at having heard words very nearly identical to those uttered by the same woman many months prior showed clearly upon his face. The entire room seemed to quiet, much as it had six months earlier, as all eyes became fixed upon the two ladies.

“Thank you, Miss Bingley, but I will decline. I am feeling a little tired, and if everyone will be so kind as to excuse me, I do believe I will retire.” Elizabeth knew precisely what her calculating hostess was about and smiled ruefully to herself. She would not fall victim to whatever scheme Miss Bingley had devised. She was not in the mood.

Elizabeth rose, and Darcy with her. “I shall join you, as well. I believe we have both had a long day.”

Miss Bingley made a slight sound of protest, but her brother’s amicable voice overpowered hers. He rose and said, “I am very sorry to be losing your company so soon this evening, but perhaps you will consent to a ride in the morning, Darcy? I am in desperate need of a good gallop—that is, if Elizabeth is feeling well enough to spare you. I cannot pretend to know anything of the particulars in these delicate matters, being a man and all, but…” His words died on his lips when he caught sight of the look of exasperation upon Darcy’s face. Striding toward them, his cheeks flaming, Bingley took both of Elizabeth’s hands in his and, under the pretense of giving her a brotherly peck on her cheek, whispered, “I certainly know how to put my foot in it, do I not, Lizzy? Please forgive my blunder. Darcy told me of your delightful news when you were last in Hertfordshire. I certainly did not mean to speak out of turn.”

Elizabeth had to laugh at his flustered demeanor and hastened to save him from further distress. “I beg you would think no more of it, Charles. My aunt and Jane know, in any case, as do Georgiana, Lydia, and several of Fitzwilliam’s discerning relations. I daresay the others appear to be none the wiser.” With a smile, Elizabeth inclined her head toward her parents and remaining sisters, all of whom were presently engaged in their own conversations and paying no mind to hers. “Tomorrow I will share our happy news with the rest of my family. There, that being said, you are now at liberty to be completely at ease.”

Elizabeth squeezed Bingley’s hands and bid the room, in general, a good night. She and Darcy then made their way to their rooms at a leisurely pace, their arms linked. “Though I can overlook Bingley’s misstep, I can hardly account for Miss Bingley. What on earth could she have been about, do you think?” Darcy asked dryly, repressing a teasing smile.

“I believe, my dear,” Elizabeth answered in a tone that was half amusement, half irritation, “you know very well what she was about. She saw only my increasing size and wished to draw attention to the distinct differences in our figures, much as she did when she attempted it the first time I was a guest here.”

Darcy laughed and pulled her into a close embrace. “Yes, and with much success, I might add, though none of it in her favor. In my eyes, your figure was by far superior to hers, and as for how I now feel, you are well aware I take nothing but the utmost pleasure in your increasing figure and the reason responsible for it.” He trailed one finger along her neckline with agonizing slowness. “Your breasts alone are inducement enough to lock you away and have my way with you,” he murmured. “You are stunning, even more so now that you shall be a mother. It is all I can do to remain in control around you, for your body seems to rob me of every gentlemanly instinct I possess.”

Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed as Darcy’s hand slipped lower to caress her breast. He drew slow circles through the fabric of her gown with his palm, and she moaned softly. “Mmm…as wonderful as this feels, you know we cannot continue here. Someone may come upon us at any moment.”

“Indeed,” he whispered against her neck. “What say you to the library, then? Surely no one will come upon us there.”

“No one but my father,” she laughed. “Whatever is wrong with our own rooms, Fitzwilliam?”

Darcy sighed and embraced her as he rested his forehead against hers. Transferring his hands to her back, he admitted, “Nothing at all, but I have always had a certain fantasy, if you will, of seducing you in Bingley’s library. The delightful image of you in all your maidenly innocence, succumbing to my powers of persuasion, dominated my every waking moment while you were staying here nursing Jane shortly after I had first arrived in Hertfordshire.”

Elizabeth pulled back her head and looked into his eyes as a slow smile played upon her lips. “I had no idea. I thought only that you did not wish for me to intrude upon your privacy, which I confess to doing just to provoke your ire. After all, I believed you had done the same to me at the time.”

He stroked a stray curl from her cheek. “Hardly. Though I knew it to be wrong, not to mention dangerous, I confess to seeking you out whenever the opportunity arose. I could not seem to help myself. I was purposely throwing myself in your way—tempting fate, if you will—and wishing for I know not what to happen between us, but, at the very least, desperately hoping to spend some time in your company without anyone else to observe my open admiration. As you well know, it quickly turned into ardent love.” He sighed. “As you can see, Mrs. Darcy, very little has changed.”

“Oh, no. I would have to disagree with that, Mr. Darcy,” she said archly. “You see, I now have a much better understanding of your taciturn nature, and I have come to discover you are not the least bit proud or disagreeable. No, my dear husband, I now find your society to be infinitely satisfying. Never would I provoke your ire, sir, at least not for my own amusement. In fact,” she said, “where you are now concerned, I find my desires to be quite the opposite of what they once were.”

“How very fortunate, then, for me,” he murmured against her lips as his hands stroked her hips and the softness of her derrière. “Let us retire to our room before I take possession of you right here in the middle of Bingley’s hall.” They did retire and spent half the night in amorous occupation, completely oblivious that every word they had uttered had been overheard.

After Darcy and Elizabeth had quit the drawing room, Miss Bingley had passed several minutes in a fit of pique before she finally resolved to retire herself, certain that the following morning would provide another opportunity for her to expose Elizabeth to possible censure. As she made her way toward her apartment, she heard lowered voices. Realizing too late precisely who it was and what they were engaged in, Miss Bingley stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes wide as her mouth literally dropped open.

Her first impulse was to give them a severe scolding; her next, to run; but then, and quite against her will, she found herself studying them, listening to them. She knew she was infringing upon their privacy—nay, on their intimacy—but, try as she would, she could not seem to tear herself away from the picture they presented. It was at that moment Miss Bingley finally understood it was not some passing infatuation on his part that had forced Darcy to sacrifice himself and all his wealth and consequence to the woman in his arms. Darcy was truly in love with his wife, and even more astounding to Miss Bingley was the realization that Elizabeth returned his love.

As Miss Bingley made her way to her room, she thought back to the time when she had first made the acquaintance of Elizabeth Bennet. None of Netherfield Park’s inhabitants had thought her anything extraordinary, Darcy included, but Miss Bingley soon recalled that the master of Pemberley had not passed three evenings in her company before he had declared her eyes to be especially fine and her face rather beautiful. If Elizabeth had been aware of it, she had never given any indication of such knowledge. As a matter of fact, she had always acted as though Darcy was no different than her stodgy Uncle Phillips.

Contrary to Darcy’s position in society, his great estate, his exceptional looks, his fine clothes, and his wealth, Elizabeth had never treated him with any preference she did not extend to any other person of her acquaintance. If anything, she treated him with less. She had never fawned over him, deferred to him, or gone out of her way to please him, nor, Miss Bingley thought ruefully, did she have to. Elizabeth had succeeded in catching Darcy’s eye with no exertion on her part, but could it have been her open manner, her compassionate nature, and her witty intelligence that had captivated him? Miss Bingley was forced to concede that may have been the case.

She laughed scornfully over the unfairness of the situation. After all those years of trying to win Darcy with her flattery, elegant manners, and constant attention, Miss Bingley now thought it bitterly ironic that the master of Pemberley had never really wanted to be flattered and catered to, but, rather, treated as a simple man with simple tastes, and on equal terms with others. She could kick herself. So blinded was she by what Darcy had represented in terms of status and riches, it had never even occurred to her that he may have wanted to be appreciated and sought for who he was, not for what he had. She now saw with perfect clarity that Darcy had been drawn to Elizabeth in the first place because she had dared to treat him as no other woman ever had—or would, for that matter—and she had accomplished it all with great impertinence. In the end, Darcy had cared not and, in the meantime, had slowly grown to love her for it.

The final piece fell into place, and Miss Bingley knew the only thing left for her now was to come to terms with the fact that, no matter what she did—or would ever do—Darcy would never, ever choose her over Elizabeth. He loved Elizabeth, that much was now obvious, and Elizabeth returned his love, valued him, esteemed him. Miss Bingley had never been in love with Darcy. She had only been infatuated with what he could offer her as her husband—status, wealth, and the distinction of being mistress of a very great estate.

She breathed deeply and raised her hand to her now aching head. Darcy and Elizabeth would become her family in just two days’ time. Family or not, Miss Bingley knew if she could not conduct herself with civility when addressing Elizabeth, it would only be a matter of time before Darcy would no longer invite her to Pemberley or perhaps even refuse to acknowledge her. She knew it would be far worse than it had been that day in Bond Street, for if Darcy happened to snub her again, there would certainly be no healing such a breach. She would never be welcomed among those of his circle. She would never find herself a wealthy husband. She would never be able to show her face in society again.

Chapter 32

Darcy kissed Elizabeth’s cheek, and her eyes fluttered open. “Your nose is cold!” she admonished with a laugh. “That was hardly a gentlemanly way to wake a lady.”

Darcy smirked and eased his fully dressed body onto her unclothed form as she lay beneath the warm counterpane. He buried his hands in her hair and his face in her neck, causing her to retreat farther under the covers with a small squeal. His guessed his cheeks must be cold as well.

Darcy grinned and murmured in her ear, “I cannot recall you behaving as a lady last night, nor any other night, now that I come to think of it, and I do believe I can also recall several afternoons quite recently where your comportment has been questionable.”

Elizabeth gasped in mock indignation. “Are you saying you disapprove of my behavior, sir? I assure you, I am very much a lady.”