Literature's greatest love continues
Besotted: Letters Between Lovers E-book
Besotted: Letters Between Lovers E-book
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ Over 112 five star reviews!
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💛 Read the Synopsis
💛 Read the Synopsis
This collection of letters between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet spans more than thirty years of their marriage.
From the early days of courtship and the heady time of newlywed bliss, through children, family mishaps, and middle age, literature’s favorite couple navigates whatever comes their way with grace. Except for when they don’t…
A collection of letters between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet spanning 30 years of their marriage.
My Darling Wife,
It is the day after our wedding and I cannot let it pass without telling you how very happy you have made me, in every respect. My love, last night was magical. Perfect. Beyond my wildest expectations. You are everything wonderful, my dear, and I will treasure you, and my memories of this time, for all my days.
At this moment, I am writing in a corner of our chamber, stealing glances at you where you lie sleeping in the bed. Our marriage bed. Your hair is tousled and strewn across the pillows, and you occasionally murmur in your sleep, though I cannot understand your words. Are you thinking of me? Of our time together?
Elizabeth, how can I express the very great honor I feel in receiving the precious gift you gave to me last night? That you would trust me so implicitly, so completely, humbles me. I am grateful and awed and immensely proud that I am the man you have chosen to be your husband. The faith you have placed in me—it fells me, Elizabeth. I treasure that faith like the precious gift it is, and I will honor it always. You have my word.
I hope I do not scandalize you, my heart, but when you looked into my eyes and told me you loved me as I moved inside you, I felt my heart crack open. I felt a communion with you like never before. I felt as if you had bared your soul to me, and I bared mine in return. I could remain in this chamber for a month and still not have had enough of you, of this precious connection between us.
Do not ever doubt that I love you, my heart. I am full to bursting with feeling for you. I am certain I will make many mistakes in our life ahead—how could I not?—but I promise you that I will never waver in my devotion. I will be a steadfast and faithful lover.
If you ever find yourself forgetting, you may always return here, to these letters we share, to remember how utterly consumed I am with you, and how you fill my every thought when I am awake and feature in every dream whilst I am sleeping.
I have just turned back to the bed and you are gone. Where have you gone, my love? Shall I go in search of you?
FD
⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐ I didn’t think that a full story could be told—strictly through the writing of letters—until I read BESOTTED by Elizabeth Adams. ~ Reviewer
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Look Inside
Look Inside
1 November, 1812
Darcy House, London
My Dearest Elizabeth,
I had hoped to complete my business in town in a few days and return to you tomorrow, but events have conspired to delay my return. My solicitor has additional documents for me to review, and the jeweler has not completed the order to my satisfaction, so I must wait for the new settings to be completed. There was an issue with the wallpaper we chose for our sitting room and another must be selected—Mrs. Reynolds spent no less than an hour recommending replacements and my eyes are swimming with images of birds and flowers. I hope you are happy with the new choice. I am told it is similar to the previous one you had liked.
When I thought I had gotten a handle on things, my horse threw a shoe and the farrier cannot see to him until tomorrow morning.
Fate has decreed I stay in town for the time being and I have made my peace with it. My only regret is that I shall not see you for another week at least. My aunt has been badgering me to visit with her for some time, so I joined her for tea this afternoon. My cousin Victoria Downing was visiting at the same time—she is Col. Fitzwilliam’s elder sister—and she had a great many questions about you. She is wild to meet you. She is the only daughter amongst four sons and none of her brothers has deigned to marry yet, and her husband has no sisters either. She is hopelessly outnumbered and excited to have another woman in the family.
I invited her to the wedding, of course, and she has promised to attend. Her brother, the colonel, will escort her. While I was there, she asked if I had written to you yet and I told her I had not, for I had intended to only be away for a few days. She proceeded to tell me I was making a grave mistake, and that the letters her husband has sent her, even when they were only apart a few days, have remained treasured mementos.
I felt properly chastised and determined to write as soon as I could. Now I sit by the fire in my chamber, writing by lamplight, wishing I was in Hertfordshire with you. Better yet, if I am wishing, I would wish we were both at Pemberley, and already wed, and we could sit before the fire, bundled under a shared blanket, and talk into the night.
I have never enjoyed conversing as much as I do with you. I wonder if it has always been in me and you are the only person who has unearthed this previously unknown trait, or if it is a new development in my character. Regardless of the reason, I enjoy speaking with you immensely and I miss our conversations. I dearly wish we were not parted, but the thought of you cheers me.
I will close now and beg you to write to me in return so that you might assuage my longing for you.
Yours,
FD
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