The Unraveling of Mr Darcy

by Valerie Lennox

  “Let go of me,” she said, and she wanted her voice to come out scornful and strong, but it wasn’t. Instead, it was barely higher than a whisper.

  He didn’t let go of her. Instead, he moved closer to her. “What are you doing here?”

  “Mr. Darcy, you must remove your hand from my arm at once,” she said. She managed to put a bit more strength into that, but she still sounded shrill, rather like her mother when the woman was pouting, and Elizabeth was horrified.

  He stepped even closer. His breath was growing more even. “Have I gone mad? Are you some sort of hallucination? Why are you in my aunt’s woods?”

  “It is highly, highly improper for you to be this close to me.” She still sounded shrill.

  His gaze flicked from her eyes to her lips and then back to her eyes. “Miss Bennet, you must pardon me, but seeing you is probably the best thing I’ve seen in months, and I…” He sucked in breath through his nose. “Forgive me, I am about to do something even more highly improper than this.”

  “Mr. Darcy—” she screeched.

  And he was kissing her.

  He’d simply done it. Closed the distance between them and pressed his lips into her lips, and now he wasn’t holding her arm with his hand. Instead, his hand smoothed over the small of her back, pressing her body against his.

  The fire inside Elizabeth’s body roared to life, consuming everything in its wake. It leaped to all of her limbs, burning out to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her hair.

  The kiss was quite nice.

  She’d never been kissed before, not by a man, not by someone like Mr. Darcy, and she didn’t know if kisses with him were always this nice or if she was just the sort of wicked woman who found kisses to be so good that she was tempted by a devil like this man, but she didn’t care.

  She wound her arms around his neck and held on for dear life, her eyes slammed shut and her body full of sparks and shivers and sweetness.

  He slanted his lips against hers, and there was his tongue, and her knees felt weak. She held onto him all the harder, because she hadn’t even known such a feeling was possible. The pleasure was overwhelming, all consuming.

  Kissing Mr. Darcy was probably the best thing she had ever experienced.

  It went on and on, one kiss begetting the next, his mouth claiming hers and her mouth surrendering to him in delight.

  But finally, there was a pause. He rested his forehead against hers. “I am very, very sorry,” he murmured. “I should not have done that.”

  “No,” she breathed. “You should not.” They were still close, still holding onto each other.

  He kissed her again, just a quick kiss, lips touching briefly. “How do you come to be here?”

  “I am visiting my friend, who has recently become the wife of the clergy here. I am staying in the parsonage,” she whispered. “And you? You are visiting your aunt?”

  “Yes,” he said, and there was another soft kiss, and then one more. He groaned in the back of his throat.

  “You must stop that,” she murmured.

  “Yes,” he said absently.

  And then more kissing, and it was again the feverish kind they had done before, and it made Elizabeth feel as though she was falling apart inside, as if she was being consumed by this out-of-control flame that burned in her whenever she was with this man. Part of her wanted to burn, to be lost in fever and ache and goodness. But another part of her mind was crying out to her that Mr. Darcy was dangerous, that he was charming only to use women like herself, and that she had escaped from his villainy before. She must escape again.

  She wrenched her lips away. “I don’t want you to kiss me anymore.”

  “Truly?” said Darcy, pulling back. “Because I must confess, I am not getting that impression from you at all.”

  “Mr. Darcy, you are a villain of the worst sort. My sister has told me what you did to Miss Bingley, and I know that you attempted to do the same to me only two nights before, and I will not fall into your trap.”

  Darcy furrowed his brow. “What? What trap?”

  “Do you think I have not been warned about men like you before? Men who think nothing of ruining a woman’s reputation to fulfill their own desires? I know what kind of man you are, and I refuse you. Let go of me now.” There, she was finding her strength again at last.

  Darcy did let go of her then, dropping his arms to his side and taking a step back.

  She was surprised by his movement, and her knees buckled.

  Immediately, he moved forward to support her.

  “Stop that!” she said, sounding peevish and hating it. “Let go of me.”

  Slowly, making sure she was steady in her balance, he did let go of her. “My apologies, Miss Bennet.”

  “I don’t believe you’re the least bit sorry. In fact, I believe you have spent years doing this same thing to hapless women. Arranging to trap them in bedchambers with you, proposing marriage, and then having your wicked way with them.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “That is what you think of me?”

  “How could I think any differently, sir? And what is more, I have spoken to Mr. Wickham about the dreadful way that you treated him—”

  “What?” Darcy’s ears had turned red. “I treated Mr. Wickham dreadfully? Oh, that is quite hilarious.” But he wasn’t laughing, he was seething. “What, pray tell, did Wickham say about me exactly?”

  “That he was owed a living, that it was left to him by your father, and that you denied it to him because you were petty and jealous of the affection your father bore him.”

  Darcy’s face twisted, but he said nothing.

  “So, you see, Mr. Darcy, I see you quite clearly, and despite the fact that I am made weak in your presence, I am not beaten. I will not allow you to use me. I will not.”

  Darcy’s lips curved into something that only vaguely resembled a smile. “Yes, Miss Bennet, if that is what you believe to be true of me, I can imagine you would conduct yourself thusly.” He nodded at her. “Good day.” Then he turned on his heel and strode back through the leaves, which whipped up in his wake.

  Soon, he disappeared among the trees, and Elizabeth was left alone. It was only then that she realized she was trembling.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  “No, I don’t want to go for a walk today,” Elizabeth said. “Or perhaps ever again.” She was standing in the drawing room the next morning with Charlotte. She had said nothing about her meeting with Darcy and very little at all, in fact. The encounter had shaken her in many ways, and she was unable to pretend as if it had never happened, so she simply attempted not to draw attention to her emotional turmoil. Now that she and Charlotte were alone, though, she was frightened her friend would notice.

  “But it is even nicer weather today than it was yesterday,” said Charlotte, surprised. “I had thought you were enjoying the walks.”

  Elizabeth was flustered. “It is rather colder than it seems. Once one is walking for some time, one’s fingers grow numb, which is generally unpleasant, and I simply don’t desire to walk again.”

  “I see,” said Charlotte. “Well, then, I am sorry for it, because I am most desirous to walk, but I suppose I must go alone.”

  “I suppose so,” said Elizabeth. Truthfully, she was in little danger with Charlotte along with her. Mr. Darcy could hardly attempt to kiss her in the woods with the parson’s wife looking on. So, that danger would be nullified by having a companion. But if she went walking with Charlotte, her friend would notice that something was wrong, and she would ask questions, and Elizabeth couldn’t admit what she had done.

  If anyone knew that she had been alone in a bedchamber with this man or that she had kissed him, she would be ruined. Though Charlotte was dear to her, Elizabeth could not bear for her friend to think any less of her. She didn’t want to share what had happened. She would stay here, then, alone, since Mr. Collins had left earlier that day to attend to make visits to sick parishioners.

  Charlotte was confused,
and Elizabeth could see it, but she didn’t press her friend. Instead, she left Elizabeth alone and went on a walk.

  Elizabeth stayed in the drawing room, attempting to read, but the words on the pages of the book all swam up in front of her and she couldn’t follow anything. She was in turmoil.

  An hour later, she was startled when the housekeeper came into the room and announced Mr. Darcy, who had come to call.

  Elizabeth was horrified. But she only had herself to blame. She had told him where she was staying. But what did he hope to accomplish in this house? He couldn’t think she would surrender her virtue under this roof in the middle of the morning while the servants listened at the door.

  Darcy was a shocking man, but no one was that shocking.

  He came into the room, then, and he reminded her of the Darcy she had first met, the man who was expressionless and closed off, not the man who had kissed her thoroughly the day before, who had kindled fires within her.

  “Miss Bennet, I hope you will forgive me the forwardness of coming to call.”

  She huffed. “I believe, sir, that I made myself quite clear yesterday. There can be little to be gained by our continued society.”

  “I find that I dislike your thinking such things about my character,” he said. “It was so disturbing to me last night that I couldn’t sleep, and I wrote this. I planned to deliver it and then quit your company, but as there is no one else here—”

  “You thought you would again prove yourself to be the kind of base man who makes improper advances?”

  “Certainly not.” He was horrified. He sucked in breath and glared at her. But then he deflated, and his voice lowered in pitch. “I must apologize again for my behavior yesterday. You make me quite mad, Miss Bennet. All reason seems to fly from my head in your presence.”

  Oh, blast him. Why did that make her feel fluttery inside? She grasped the back of a chair to steady herself. She would not give in to this man’s charms. “I would beg you not to be so forward, Mr. Darcy.”

  “I am sorry for it. I shall endeavor to…” He sighed. He held out the letter to her. “Please, if you would read this.”

  She stared the letter and did nothing.

  He continued to proffer it to her, giving it a little shake.

  Annoyed, she snatched it from him. “I will read it.” She set it down on a table by the window.

  He waited.

  “You expect me to read it now?”

  “Well, if you aren’t engaged in anything else pressing?”

  Truly, she was rather interested in the letter. She picked it back up and settled down on the couch and began to read.

  He paced.

  “Are you really going to do that the entire time I read?”

  “I’m sorry,” he said. He crossed the room to stand at the window.

  She perused the sheets, several pages covered in his even handwriting, as she had once heard Caroline Bingley exclaim over it. Caroline, who Darcy had taken advantage of, and who he was obligated to marry. He was a snake. She shouldn’t even bother to read the letter, but she did.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Darcy had his back to Elizabeth, and for a long time it was silent, but then there was a noise from behind, something derogatory and scornful. He turned away from the window to look at her. The sight of her was nearly too much. She was the most beautiful woman he thought he had ever seen, and now that he knew the taste of her lips and could not claim her, he felt as if he were losing his mind. This letter, this explanation, it was madness. None of it mattered. But for Elizabeth to hate him, well, he could not bear that. “What is it?”

  She looked up from the letter. “This story of Wickham? You expect me to believe that?” Darcy had endeavored to explain to her what really happened between Wickham and himself. That Wickham had taken the worth of the living owed him, gambled it away, and then come back asking for charity. That Darcy had turned him away and told him to make his own way in the world. That Wickham had then attempted to trick Darcy’s sister into eloping with him, hoping to get his hands on Georgiana’s fortune. That Darcy himself had stopped Wickham from his designs on Georgiana.

  “At what point in the story have you read to?” he asked her.

  “That he did not wish to take the living,” she said. “Which I know is not true. He told me that his only desire was for the church.”

  “And he lied,” Darcy said flatly. “Because that is the sort of man that Wickham is. But keep reading, Miss Bennet. I will not interrupt you again.”

  “I do not believe you,” she said.

  But he turned back to the window, and he schooled himself not to react at her other exclamations along the way, even if she tried to engage him in them. He simply said to her to keep reading, and he stared out at the morning, which was bathed in the brightest of sunshine. It was cheery outside. The cheeriness mocked him. He was on a fool’s errand that could come to naught. His future was decided. Yesterday, Elizabeth had accused him of setting a trap, but he was the one who had been caught in a snare. And he would never get free.

  At long last, her voice from behind him. “Well, there, I have finished reading it. Are you pleased?”

  He turned away from the window to look at her.

  She stood up, still holding the sheets of paper, and her face was flushed, and he thought of how badly he wanted to kiss her again. He remembered the way that her body had fit in his arms, as if she belonged there, and he was bitterly disappointed that he could never hold her that way again. After all, she had been right when she told him that they must not do such things. “Are you?” she repeated.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “What is your response to my defense?”

  “I think it is ridiculous,” she said. “I think you are telling tales.”

  “You don’t believe me?”

  “This business with Wickham and your sister, it is preposterous,” she said. “It is the kind of thing that you would do, not the kind of thing that Wickham would do.”

  “No,” he said. “It is not. And that is why it is all the more painful to me to be accused of such bad behavior. I am nothing like Wickham, and I would never have taken advantage of Caroline.”

  “But you nearly took advantage of me. Would have, in fact, had I not been so insulting to you.”

  “I…” He could not meet her eyes. “You are different, Miss Bennet. You drive me to do things that I…”

  “I’m sure that is the same thing you say to all of your conquests,” she said.

  “Listen, you yourself were the one who apprised me of Caroline’s interest in me,” he said. “She wanted to secure me, and she found a way to do it. Can’t you see? The time that you and I were locked up together, it was not my doing, but hers. She was the one who rattled the the door, whose footsteps we heard leaving. She probably opened the door in the night as well, so that we could get free without being discovered. She wouldn’t have been pleased if I had been forced to marry you instead.”

  Elizabeth licked her lips. “No. You are devious. You spin this story in the hopes, even now, of beguiling me. But I won’t believe it. I cannot.”

  “I assure you, Miss Bennet, I am well aware that you and I can never touch again, as much as I think of nothing but touching you when I am in your presence.” His mouth was dry. “You have haunted my dreams these past months. I cannot rest for the thought of you in that nightdress with your hair braided.” He very nearly lurched across the room to her, some image in his head of taking her hair out of its pins and running his fingers through it. He stopped himself just in time.

  She looked stricken. “You have dreams?”

  “Yes, as pointless and hopeless as it is for me to do so. You have never found me pleasing in any way, and you are determined to think the worst of me now. But I… I have always thought you quite the most lovely woman in all of England, and you… you unravel me.”

  Her lips parted. She drew in a breath, and he could see that her hands were shaking. “I think you must leave,
sir. You have no call to speak to me in that manner.”

  He gritted his teeth together. But then he nodded. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. I don’t know why I came at all.”

  “For the life of me, neither do I.” And her voice was a desperate whisper, and he could see longing in her eyes.

  His heart leaped, for some part of him had wanted to believe that she felt as he did, especially when he thought of the eager way she responded to his kisses. But he told himself that he deceived himself. She loathed him. She always had. Except, no, he could see that she didn’t. So, he didn’t go to the door, but instead crossed the room to her, and he took her hand in his.

  “Mr. Darcy—”

  “Miss Bennet, I cannot bear it if you believe these lies of me. Please say that you do not think that I would stoop to the accusations laid at my feet.”

  She pulled her hand away, but slowly. “Mr. Wickham said that he was not even acquainted with the rules of whist at the dinner we had with him at the Philipses, and you say he is a wretched gambler.”

  “Oh, you watched him play, did you? Did he truly seem as if he was unschooled in the game?”

  “Well… I don’t know if I paid attention, but…” She bit down on her lip.

  His entire body grew taut.

  “I suppose he did have a great deal of winnings,” she muttered. “But if he cared so much about money, then why did he pay any mind to me?”

  “I think you underestimate your charms, Miss Bennet. You are…” He let out a slow breath. “There is no woman like you that I have ever met.”

  “I suppose he did abandon me at the Netherfield ball,” she said softly. “And he never even apologized.”

  Darcy didn’t know what she was walking about.

  “But if it really is all true,” she said. “If Caroline trapped you into a marriage, then…”

  “Then what?” His voice was hoarse.

  “Then you truly meant it when you asked me to marry you,” she said.

  “I did,” he said.

  “But now…”

  He swallowed. “Now, that can never be.”