The Impulse of the Moment

by Jann Rowland

  “Excuse me, Bingley,” said Darcy. “There is someone with whom I wish to speak.”

  Bingley caught Darcy’s arm as he attempted to move away. “I shall expect an explanation of what the devil has gotten into you tonight.”

  “Very well,” said Darcy, eager to leave his friend behind. “But it can wait.”

  With a nod Bingley released him, allowing Darcy to move quickly away. Sir William Lucas attempted to accost Darcy as he walked by, and Darcy halted for a few unwilling moments to speak with the man. But inside he was eager to be away, to join Miss Elizabeth on the balcony. When he was able, he excused himself and walked away. Soon the exit loomed large before him.

  The vile words spilling from Mr. Darcy’s mouth did not hurt Elizabeth so much as infuriate her. Not long after she had found her little nook, Mr. Darcy had appeared just outside in his erratic prowling about the floor. When Mr. Bingley had come upon him, Elizabeth had thought to warn the man away from attempting to modify the behavior of the detestable Mr. Darcy. But when Mr. Darcy had referred to her the way he had, Elizabeth knew that to speak was to make a scene.

  Standing and directing a glare at his back, Elizabeth had stormed away, muttering imprecations as she went. Such was her countenance and fury that at least one man to whom she was known declined to speak to her, though Elizabeth was certain he had intended to ask her for a dance. Mercifully free of any other interference, Elizabeth caught sight of the door to the balcony ringing the assembly hall and slipped through, relieved to be away from everyone.

  The light of the moon shone down on the town, bathing it in a soft glow, luminous and peaceful, unlike the emotions roiling in Elizabeth’s heart. She stepped to the railing, laying her hands on it, noting the white light shining on her arms, lending her skin an incandescent glow. In the calm light and darkness of the outside world, Elizabeth felt her anger slipping away. Even if she had tried to hold to it, she knew she would not have possessed the means to do so.

  Mr. Darcy’s words, as disgusting as they had been, were nothing more than the truth. Long had Elizabeth known that matrimony, the state to which all young girls of her status aspired, was not likely to be in her future.

  “And whose fault is that?” she demanded to the night sky. “Perhaps it has something to do with my own character. But it has every bit as much to do with Mr. Darcy. He has tainted me, removed me from all possible intimacy with a man forever. How I hate him!”

  But even as the quiet words tumbled from Elizabeth’s mouth, she knew it was not true. In a most unnerving way, she found herself drawn to the man, attracted to him as she had never been to any other man before. Which was itself a problem. How could she be attracted to a man capable of such perfidy as Mr. Darcy? Did it point to some deficiency of her character, some wantonness staining her very soul?

  And what was Mr. Darcy? Though she tried, Elizabeth could not make the man out. The same man who spoke to her with such interest unconcealed, who befriended Bingley and spoke with her father with such rationality and interest, was also capable of repulsive words and stealing that which was most precious from young maidens. Who was he?

  Her hand trailing along the bannister, Elizabeth strolled along the balcony, her eyes staring unseeing at the town situated beyond those rooms. It may be best for her to flee to London, she thought. Her aunt and uncle would be happy to welcome her there, she knew, though she also suspected they would be full of questions for her. But that was far preferable to continuing to exist under the harsh glare of Mr. Darcy’s contempt. And it would remove him from her circle, along with whatever motivated the man. Tomorrow she would send a letter to them, requesting sanctuary. She would depart immediately.

  The sound of a soft footstep brought Elizabeth back to her surroundings. She whirled around, one hand pressed against her heart in her shock, only to see the intimidating form of Mr. Darcy outlined in the light of the assembly hall, which escaped through the door still ajar behind him. For a brief moment, all her fears crystallized into that single moment, and she imagined a man with the ruin of a young woman on his mind.

  “Miss Elizabeth?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  He stepped forward, his countenance appearing in the light of the moon, visible to her wild eyes. The concern in his eyes confused her for a moment, and the fear began to bleed from her like a great wound in her breast.

  “Are you frightened of me?”

  Those words lit a fire in the very breast which had recently known relief. Elizabeth straightened, her blazing gaze falling on him like a bludgeon. It seemed Mr. Darcy could see the anger in her eyes, for he took an involuntary step back, confusion falling over him. It was all Elizabeth needed to stalk to him, one hand on her hip while the other rose, pointing a finger in the wretched man’s face.

  “Should I not be frightened of you?” hissed she. “Do you not recognize the place in which we stand, Mr. Darcy? Do you not know what happened the last time we were here? Are you witless, or was the matter so trifling to you that you cannot even remember it?”

  Though he had regarded her with concern, now he was staring at her with a gaze so incredulous, she could see the whites around his eyes. But the light of recognition shone within their depths, giving Elizabeth all the courage she needed to continue her tirade.

  “I can see you do remember. What have you to say for yourself?

  “Nothing, of course!” snapped Elizabeth, not allowing him to speak. “You took what you wished from a young and gullible girl and departed from these shores, until finally slinking back four years later. And for what? Do you mean to finish what you started? Are am I to be forced to be your mistress, or do you simply wish to have your way with me right here before you leave forever?”

  Mr. Darcy did not respond, for he seemed incapable of doing so. Raking her eyes over the man with contempt, Elizabeth shook her head. “You will find me no easy prey, Mr. Darcy. I defy you. If you fight for your unholy desires, know that I shall fight as vehemently as you. I will never give into you.

  “You disgust me, sir. Have you no notion of what you have wrought? Do you not know that a young woman wishes to give the right of her first kiss to her future husband? Do you not know you have robbed me of that privilege? What have you to say for yourself?”

  The anger which raged in her breast simmered and roared, and Elizabeth stood there for that single long moment, staring into the eyes of her tormentor. Mr. Darcy, seemingly still astonished by her tirade, did not seem to be capable of responding. At least he was not a man with rape on his mind—Elizabeth was grimly certain that if he had been such a man, he would not have been caught in indecision at such a time. He likely would have proceeded or fled.

  But that did not answer what kind of man he was. Elizabeth would not have thought the man a coward, to be intimidated by the sight of an angry woman, and a diminutive one at that. Suddenly Elizabeth was disgusted with it all, eager to be out of his presence.

  “The assembly hall is that way,” said she, waving her hand at the door behind him. “I wish to be alone, sir. Should you call at Longbourn again, know that I will not receive you. If you wish to maintain your friendship with my father, I shall not stand in your way.” A wave of bitterness welled up within her. “I have not informed him of your actions, nor will I do so.”

  Then Elizabeth turned and made her way back to the bannister, resting her arms on it and staring out into the night. Her gaze, however, rested on nothing. She could not muster such interest in anything. Thus, when the sound of Mr. Darcy’s voice reached her, it astonished her anew.

  “I am sorry—exceedingly sorry, Miss Elizabeth. I had not meant to steal that which was precious from you, nor was it my intention to frighten you. Whatever you demand in restitution, I shall oblige you.”

  Turning, Elizabeth gazed at the young man, wondering at the sudden change which had come over him. Mr. Darcy stood there, looking at her, chastened by her words, it seemed. But whatever she had expected him to say next, it was not what c
ame out of his mouth.

  “I would also have you consider this: if you were to marry me, your first kiss would have been bestowed on no one but your future husband.”

  Chapter XII

  Shock bloomed in Miss Elizabeth’s eyes. As the glory of her gaze was bestowed on him, Darcy suddenly wished to have her look on him with longing and love, that which had so tormented and teased him during the time of their separation. While the words had issued forth of their own volition, Darcy realized they were the truth. Any thought of his father’s displeasure or the expectations of society disappeared in the face of her gaze. A man would do much to have such an exquisite creature as Miss Elizabeth Bennet look on him with love and devotion.

  It seemed Darcy had shocked her into silence, for she did not attempt to speak. Instead she looked on him, seemingly attempting to see through the outer man to what lay inside. Mindful of the way she had looked at him when he had first joined her on the balcony, Darcy stepped forward, carefully, slowly, trying, with his every move, to assure her he meant no harm. She tensed at his first motion, wary as a deer which had caught the scent of the hunting wolf. Then he was before her, looking down on her incandescent countenance, marveling in the perfection of her perfect face.

  Carefully, Darcy reached down, grasping her hands, clasping them in his own. She looked down at them, her gaze stayed there for a moment, before rising to meet his again. Darcy could determine nothing of her thoughts—she was a closed book, a shuddered window against the light of the outside world. So caught was he by her gaze upon him that Darcy was almost surprised to hear his own voice.

  “It seems I must beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth.”

  Her stare hardened. “Because I called you out for your behavior?”

  “Your words have only provoked it, not made it necessary.” Darcy sighed and looked down at their joined hands, noting for the first time how small and delicate they were, but marveling in the strength held within. “Would that I had found an opportunity to apologize when I had first come to Netherfield again. But I foolishly believed you had not been affected by my thoughtless action the last time we met. I determined it would be more detrimental to remind you of it than to leave the matter unintroduced.”

  “That matter I had put behind me long ago,” said Miss Elizabeth. She grimaced and amended: “Or I thought I had. Your return brought back the memory, informing me I was not so indifferent as I had thought.”

  “I offer my most humble and sincere apologies, Miss Bennet,” said Darcy, considering how he had bungled his relationship with this woman in the most egregious manner since making her acquaintance. “When I . . . kissed you the last time I was here, it was an action which had neither forethought nor ill intent. It was not my intention to offend.”

  A hint of the anger she had shown before swept over her, but this time it was tempered by what he could only call amusement. “Oh?” asked she, a delightful arch of one elegant eyebrow accompanying her words. “So then, I am not destined to become a spinster in your estimation.”

  Darcy gaped at her, then closed his eyes in mortification. Was he never to stop insulting her?

  “Might I assume you overheard rather than hearing another’s report?”

  “That is correct, Mr. Darcy.” She gave him an impish smile. “In the future, should you choose to say something derogatory about an acquaintance, you might wish to look about to ensure they are not near enough to overhear.”

  “I cannot imagine how that came to be,” muttered Darcy. “This evening I have been ever aware of your whereabouts, except for those few moments before I uttered those words.”

  Miss Elizabeth did not reply—she only regarded him with a wry grin. It seemed she had realized his words were not to be taken at face value. But that did not mean she was not due an apology yet again.

  “It seems I do nothing but apologize tonight, but I offer you my regrets without reservation. This evening had not gone as I had planned, and I was out of sorts because of it. Still, it was unconscionable for me to say it.”

  Miss Elizabeth nodded. “Apology accepted, Mr. Darcy.” Then she eyed him with evident curiosity. “In what way did the evening disappoint, Mr. Darcy?”

  “In your reaction to me tonight.” Having no hope but a candid revelation, Darcy determined to do exactly that. If she refused him after this, at least she would understand the true measure of his feelings rather than simply branding him the worst of men. “I had come here with the fond hope of engaging your attention as my friend has engaged your sister.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Have you not seen how I have attended to you since I came?” asked Darcy. “Have you not noticed the way my eyes find you and can rarely be induced to leave you? I do not behave this way with most young ladies of my acquaintance, Miss Bennet. In fact, should you ask Bingley, he would inform you it is usually quite the opposite.

  A restless energy came over Darcy, and he allowed her hands to fall while he took to pacing the stone balcony. Within, he was tormented by the thought that she would reject him. But the thought of her acceptance, the joy of having her pledge herself to him, kept him speaking. It would not come today, or any other day in the near future—of this he was certain. But if he only had the hope of her eventual love, he could endure as many weeks of uncertainty as necessary.

  “I have hesitated, Miss Elizabeth,” confessed Darcy, still working off his agitation. “It has not been due to any lack in you. You are all that is desirable, all anything any rational man would want in a wife.”

  She gasped at the mention of a wife, but Darcy pressed on.

  “But society places certain expectations on any man, and there are certain elements of my family who expect me to make a stupendous marriage to the daughter of an earl, if not a woman of higher standing. I do not wish for such an alliance. Had I ever met any woman of such a standing who interested me, who provoked me as you do, I might have had some interest in her. But to me society is populated by those who think very well of themselves, of those who view marriage as a business transaction for their own gain. For myself, I prefer to find a woman in whom I can place my trust and on whom, bestow my love, hoping for her to reciprocate.

  “When we met four years ago, I saw in you the genesis of the woman you would one day be, a woman I knew instinctually could suit me in every way. I did not know it then, though looking back on it now, it is obvious. When I kissed you that night, I was frustrated, looking for a way to stop your infernal teasing.”

  “Is it your custom, Mr. Darcy, to silence young ladies’ teasing by kissing them senseless?”

  The note of humor in her voice brought Darcy to a halt. The half-smile with which she regarded him suggested a lightening of her spirit, causing Darcy’s to wheel through the sky along with hers. With a quick step, Darcy strode to her again, gratified that she had lost all fear of him. Once again, he grasped her hands and raised them one after the other to his lips.

  “Indeed, I have done it but once and then, with a very special young lady. I am mortified that she was hurt by it and distressed that it has caused her to think of me as the worst sort of libertine.” Darcy paused, smiled, and decided to risk a little humor. “If I was to kiss you senseless, Miss Elizabeth, it would be much more substantial than what I did.”

  Delighted, Darcy watched as a fetching blush spread over Miss Elizabeth’s cheeks, just visible in the dim light of the moon. The sight of it set an aching in his chest, more evidence he was desperate to have this woman’s good opinion. The light also reminded him that he was alone with her. Though it would not cause him an instant’s concern should he be required to marry her in the event they were discovered, he did not wish to win her in such a fashion.

  “We cannot stay here much longer without risking discovery, Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy. She nodded in agreement. “Before we leave this place, however, I wish you to understand clearly of what my feelings consist. I will not have you go away thinking that I am
a rake who toys with the feelings of young ladies. While you might have thought me capable of offering you carte blanche, or other such depravities, I wish you to know that my interest in you is entirely honorable.”

  “Though I wondered, I never thought you a libertine, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth, her voice quiet, though brimming with emotion. “It always seemed like an impetuous action taken without thought.”

  “It was. But other than the way it induced you to doubt my character, I find I cannot repine my action. I hope for a repeat of it, albeit in more proper circumstances.”

  Once again Miss Elizabeth blushed. “You do?” was her soft query.

  “Very much. But I have learned my lesson. I shall restrain myself until I have the right and your permission for a repeat performance.”

  “Perhaps we should return to the dance, Mr. Darcy.” Though she was outwardly calm, Darcy thought he had heard a little quaver in her voice. He smiled inwardly, pleased at the evidence she was affected by him.

  “Before we do,” said Darcy, “I should like to obtain permission to call on you. It is not the proper time for a proposal, though I would be willing to offer for you right now if you were ready to receive it. But I wish to show you what kind of man I am. May I call?”

  It was the most important question Darcy had ever asked. Though the pause was brief, it seemed eternal to Darcy’s senses, as he stood wondering if she would crush his heart forever. It would be no less than he deserved, should she choose to do so. But after that agonizing pause, she relieved his anxiety with two words:

  “You may.”

  Again, Darcy pulled her hands up to his lips. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. It is my promise to you that you will never regret extending me this opportunity. Now, perhaps we should return to the ballroom?”

  “Of course,” said Miss Elizabeth, apparently recovering her wits.

  Darcy dropped her hands and motioned for her to precede him into the room. “Please, Miss Elizabeth—if you will go first, I shall follow in a few moments. We should be able to avoid detection in that fashion.”