Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2

by Sharon Lathan

  “Oh, it wasn’t that bad—maybe sharks, or stinging eels, but not piranha level.”

  Bingley smiled at Richard’s humor but looked a bit dyspeptic and also gulped at his brandy. “We may as well accept it, Darcy. After all, we will be family in two days so these gatherings, while hopefully rare, will happen from time to time.”

  Now it was Darcy’s turn to look ill.

  “Does Mr. Hurst ever smile?” Richard blurted in a tone of sincere curiosity.

  “Sometimes, I think.” Bingley frowned, then shrugged. “Can’t recall to be honest.”

  “Huh. Well, here is to family.” Richard lifted his glass. “Got to love them, for better or worse, sickness and in health, richer or poorer… Wait, that is for spouses. What are the rules for family again?”

  “That is the real tragedy. One has no choice in the matter and is stuck with them,” Darcy grumbled.

  “Yes, well, cheer up, Cousin. You have me! That is a stupendous blessing from the Almighty. And soon you shall have Bingley here. We make up for a dozen Mr. Hursts or Mrs. Bennets.”

  “I suppose I will have to give you that,” Darcy admitted grudgingly, and then he laughed.

  Richard joined in, but Bingley was quiet, eyes faintly troubled and a frown creasing his brows.

  “What is it, Charles?”

  “Was Caroline…” Bingley paused. “That is, did she do or say anything I am unaware of?”

  Richard shook his head, but it was Darcy who spoke. “Surprisingly, no. In fact, I don’t think she said much at all. She sat with Mrs. Hurst the whole night. I know she never approached Elizabeth, at least when we were all together. I was watching. I think the time away did her good, truly I do. But really, what does it matter for the present? We should put all this aside and focus on what is important. The reason we are gathered here in the first place.”

  “Here! Here!” Richard raised his glass, but only halfway. Staring at Darcy with a comically confused expression, he asked, “And why was that again?”

  Darcy shook his head, helpless but to laugh. Casting aside the serious, negative topics, the trio of friends chatted and drank for a while longer.

  “I almost forgot,” Richard slurred sometime later. “Georgie asked me what I thought about braving the dirt trails meandering prettily through the nearby meadows for an extended walk in the crisp air and sunshine. Or some such poetic blither. This would be for tomorrow, that is. Or is it now today? What time is it anyway?”

  “Time for us to pour you into bed, Colonel. And pour ourselves, for that matter,” Bingley noted, a bit slurry as well. “As for the walk idea, it sounds like a feasibility. What say you, Mr. Weather Predictor? Will the pleasant weather last?”

  “I am not as sensitive to the climates here as I am in Derbyshire, but I think it will. I am basing that on the Farmer’s Almanac, to be honest. At any rate, getting out into nature for more than a short jaunt would be wonderful. I hate being cooped up.”

  “Says the man who will soon be married and staying cooped up for days on end.” Richard wiggled his brows and leered.

  “Yes, but I will at least be exercising.”

  Loud guffaws came after that suggestive jest, and from there the inebriated conversation went into bawdy realms best left unrepeated. It was probably a blessing that none of them remembered most of what was said from that point onward.

  * * *

  The following morning, one day before the long-awaited wedding, the three gentlemen luckily remembered the discussion of a walk.

  Or rather, they remembered when Georgiana loudly and painfully screamed at them about it. Several pots of coffee and solid food in their stomachs later, her voice wasn’t as shrill—strange how that happens—and the prospect of so much bright sunshine piercing into their aching skulls wasn’t quite as nausea inducing.

  Despite lacking a high degree of eagerness initially, the recovering grooms were willing to do anything if it meant being with their ladies. Ever adventurous, Colonel Fitzwilliam would not have been left behind barring someone tying him up with chains, and even that may have failed. Lord Matlock was content to quietly pass the day with Mr. Bennet in the Netherfield library, and Lady Matlock pleaded needing rest for a minor headache. Darcy noted her slight hesitation, suspecting the excuse was a polite way to allow the younger set to have their fun.

  As far as they knew, no one asked Mr. Hurst, wherever he was. That left Louisa Hurst, who surprised everyone by chiming in enthusiastically, and Caroline Bingley, who then had little option but to come along.

  Naturally, Kitty was up for the challenge, but even if she had a broken leg, she would have hobbled along in order to flirt with the dashing Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mary gave no thought to flirting, but she did enjoy nature, so it wasn’t too difficult to entice her away from her books. Furthermore, although it had been less than twenty-four hours since meeting Miss Darcy, the younger Bennet sisters and the shy Georgiana were getting along nicely.

  There were dozens of footpaths, of course, but one trail was the shortest, most direct route between Longbourn and Netherfield. More out of habit than any other reason, the walkers set their feet upon this frequently trod course, Charles and Jane in the lead purely by chance. With no destination in mind or time limit as part of the plan, the group of ten strolled at a casual pace, with conversation gay and laughter flowing.

  The trail, like all unmaintained, naturally formed tracks, was not level or uniform in width. Some segments were wide enough for four adults to walk shoulder to shoulder, but on average two bodies side by side was the comfortable pattern to avoid a pitfall unseen underneath the tall grass. Due to this reality, the varied paces set by the walkers, the conversation topics, and unconscious choices primarily on the part of the engaged couples, the space between smaller clusters of people began to lengthen.

  “I see my cousin has bypassed Bingley and Jane to assume the lead. Not sure when that happened,” Darcy noted in a tone of surprise. With his focus captured by Elizabeth’s beautiful face, Darcy was amazed he hadn’t stumbled into a mud puddle or sink hole in his inattentiveness.

  “It must be the military-command attitude taking over. He is used to being a leader.”

  “Ha! That would be his claim, with a wink and a grin, but I know him too well. It is to be in the center of his female cheering squad, as they hang on his every word.”

  “You are right!” Lizzy laughed aloud. “Even Mary is smiling and blushing. Goodness, but I never thought I would see the day! The Colonel better watch himself or Mama will never let him leave.”

  “She would not be the first mother to attempt it, I am sure. Fortunately, Richard can charm anyone, so he is safe. What I wonder is how my dear sister will take the competition. She has been Richard’s ‘little mouse’ all her life and grown accustomed to the devotion.” He chuckled, a sly glint in his eyes.

  “You are a little devil at times, Mr. Darcy. I am shocked to the core.”

  He turned to her and winked, clearly unrepentant. “By the way, Georgiana wanted me to reiterate how thoroughly she enjoyed the outing to Meryton yesterday afternoon.”

  “As if she did not express her delight and appreciation profusely enough already. I kept looking around to make sure we had not been magically transported to Venice or Paris. I am quite certain that never has a living soul been so utterly delighted by the charms of Meryton. If I had not seen Lambton myself, I might presume it no more than a crude village with mud huts and pigs wandering freely in the streets based on Georgiana’s response to our humble town.”

  “She can be overly dramatic at times. I have no idea where that trait came from,” he said in a bland tone and with a perfectly straight face.

  After regaining control of her hilarity, Lizzy confided, “I must say, William, that while I am abundantly thankful for Lord and Lady Matlock’s willingness to entertain Georgiana so we can have time alone at Pemberley, I tremendously look forward to having her home with us. She is an absolute dear, and, well, Christmas would not be the
same without a sister.”

  Darcy covered her hand with his and tugged her closer to his side, but said nothing. He knew how difficult the changes would be for her, but of course, that was how life was. She was practical, he also knew, and not for a second regretful of the decision to marry him, even though it meant taking her a long way away. All he could do—what he would do—was make her happy. So deliriously happy that the moments of sadness and homesickness would be brief and rapidly assuaged.

  “So, seriously, where does this propensity for drama come from? One of your parents? You have spoken of their humor. Or better yet, is it a familial connection with a famed stage actor? One of those eccentric Darcys you speak of? How exciting and potentially scandalous that would be!”

  Darcy met her impish expression with a teasing grin. “I deem it best to wait until after our wedding before revealing the skeletons hidden in our closets, my dear. Allow me another day of being perfection in your sight.”

  Lizzy rolled her eyes, harrumphing and jabbing her elbow into his side. “Arrogant man! Must I again chronicle your numerous faults?”

  “There is no need. I now have them memorized.” He leaned to kiss her cheek. “In truth, neither of my parents was particularly gifted in dramatics. They possessed excellent humor and loved to laugh and jest as you do. Minimal acting skills, however. Of the relatives I know, the tendency runs deepest with my uncle George, particularly, and also my great-aunt Beryl. I long for the day when you can meet them both.”

  “You have spoken of your uncle, the famed traveling physician. I do not recall an Aunt Beryl. Was the ‘great’ an adjective or part of the relationship?”

  “Both to be honest. Ah, I do not know where to begin with my Aunt Beryl. She is my grandfather’s much younger sister, and if it is an exciting scandal you want, then the thrice-married Marchioness of Warrow is as close as the Darcys come—in living relations, that is. Goodness only knows what skeletons exist that I am unaware of. Very soon we shall be at Pemberley, together as a family. I shall happily let you loose in the archival library to read any of the journals you want. As led, you can acquaint yourself with my ancestry and feel the strength of our relations.”

  “Our relations,” she repeated in a whisper, pausing on the trail to stare into his tender eyes. An affectionate, slow smile spread. “I like the sound of that.”

  Darcy matched her wide smile with one equally as brilliant and filled with love. A generous allotment of raw passion infused his eyes as well, sending pleasant shivers racing up Lizzy’s spine. The wild flutters attacking her insides were exhilarating.

  Breaking away from the mesmerizing pull of his gaze, her intention to gauge if she could safely steal a kiss, Lizzy’s eyes darted up and down the trail. As she had hoped, the colonel and his female retinue were smudges in the distance. Bingley and Jane had paused under a tree off to the left on a secondary trail, Lizzy and Darcy obviously having passed them without ever realizing it. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, as the slowest walkers, had fallen far behind.

  Marvelous. Then, noting the surrounding landscape and recognizing where they were, a stupendously brilliant idea flashed through her brain.

  Lizzy jerked her head to indicate the narrow trail veering off to the right. “This is the trail that leads to Willow Bench.”

  “Is it? I’ve never come from this direction. It is a reasonable distance from Longbourn, so I can see why it was a frequent destination for you.”

  Lizzy nodded, smiling at her fiancé archly. “Shall we?”

  Darcy grinned and stepped onto the track. “I cannot think of a reason not to.”

  * * *

  “Where are they going?” Caroline Bingley asked shrilly. “Should we follow? It is quite unseemly for them to be unchaperoned!”

  “They will be married tomorrow, Caroline.” Louisa’s sigh was long-suffering, and she rolled her eyes. “If they haven’t managed a few unchaperoned interludes by now, I would be amazed.”

  Caroline sniffed. “I am quite sure you are right. With a woman like her, inappropriate behavior is to be expected.”

  “Oh, Sister. You are so amusing in your ridiculousness. I have delighted in the spectacle, truly I have. Now, however, it is past time for you to cease your obsession.”

  “Obsession? Over Mr. Darcy? Absurd! I care not one whit for the man!”

  “Indeed,” Louisa drawled. “How could I possibly believe otherwise?”

  Caroline stopped walking, an expression of complete exasperation on her face as she stared at her older sister. “Louisa, how many times must I remind you that it is our brother who will suffer from this disgrace?”

  “And, Caroline,” Louisa snapped the name, “how many times must I then ridicule you for such stupidity? If Charles should suffer in his marriage, it is his choice nevertheless and not our place to interfere. But, as I have kindly said a million times now, hoping you would come to understand the truth yourself, there is no disgrace to be had. Jane Bennet is a lovely lady, and they will have a marriage as fine as one can find in this world.”

  Even though the harsher spoken admonition did not appear to have had the slightest effect on Caroline, whose face was stiff and cold, Louisa softened her tone and touched her sister lightly on the arm. “You, on the other hand, will never have a marriage at all, fine or disgraceful, if you keep to the course you are on. That is my advice to take or leave. For the present, we shall continue walking. For the remaining time we are here”—Louisa hardened her tone—“you, dear Sister, will smile and be graciousness itself. Do you understand?”

  Caroline lifted her chin, her cool eyes narrowing. “If I do not?”

  “Then the next time Charles sends you out of his sight, Mr. Hurst and I shall be unavailable and will suggest Aunt Agatha on the Isle of Arran. Perhaps Scotland will be far enough away to free you from the distress of witnessing our brother and Mr. Darcy suffering in their marriages.”

  Caroline blanched whiter than a ghost.

  Evidently, there was a possible fate worse than losing Mr. Darcy.

  * * *

  Oblivious to the sisterly chitchat occurring on the trail behind them, Darcy and Lizzy continued to laugh and leisurely stroll. Willow Bench held special memories for them, although they had only met there twice. Each of those times had been accidental, and the encounters as different as night and day.

  On a hill off to the left of the trail, the copse of six old willow trees with leafless branches swaying in the gentle breeze appeared rather sad and lonely. Still, even with the lack of sheltering foliage, they were isolated and beyond eyesight. The location was perfect for two people wildly in love, but also dangerous, which is why Darcy already knew the answer to the question he asked.

  “In all our walks, why have we not taken the time to visit your childhood sanctuary?”

  “Because you, Mr. Darcy, are a proper gentleman who would never, not even if told the very fate of the world depended on it, do something as outrageously indecent as to be alone with his fiancée! The very idea is shocking and unfathomable.”

  “Ah, yes. That is so. I am a rock in that regard.” He paused, sighing heavily. “Still, it is a shame to waste a lovely day, and I have noticed that you are appearing a bit weak, Miss Elizabeth. I would hate to overtax your fragility, but then again, I am vastly concerned for your health, so perhaps a sprint would do you good. Get the blood pumping and all that. What say you?”

  Her answer was a single laugh, the ringing tones of gaiety floating over her shoulder as she took off running. Darcy watched for several seconds before taking up the chase. Naturally, his long-legged gait could readily overtake her, even with the delay and her impressive speed. Watching her dash with skirts held high enough for him to glimpse flashes of toned, stocking-clad calves was preferable by incalculable measure to winning a race.

  Reaching the trees first, she spun around, shouting in triumph. The shout soon morphed into a squeal when he grabbed her around the waist, lifting her high off her feet and crushing against
his chest before twirling in a series of circles.

  Between laughter and squeals, she begged, “Stop! I’m growing dizzy!”

  He stopped the rapid whirling, but the dizziness increased when he impetuously captured her mouth in a passionate kiss. They clung to each other, swaying and with stars spinning inside their heads, and kept on kissing. Within seconds they were fused along every plane, Darcy setting her onto her feet only so he could roam his hands freely over her body.

  Wildly out of control, neither knew who broke the contact or why, but they pulled apart and mindlessly retreated to opposite sides of the copse. Collapsing backward into solid willow trees, they stared at each other with passion-drugged eyes for a full five minutes. Each of them gasped for air, the breathlessness having nothing to do with the sprint or the twirling.

  Darcy leaned against the trunk, hands rigid with palms flattened harshly into his thighs as he frantically grasped onto the remaining threads of control. If he did not regain his equilibrium soon and force a specific organ to behave, Elizabeth would become his wife in one sense of the word in the next ten minutes. Of all the occasions where his restraint had teetered, this was a hundred times worse.

  God help me, he silently begged, and please don’t move or say a word, Elizabeth, or I will be lost.

  “I love kissing you!”

  Darcy groaned at her blurted comment, closing his eyes in a last-ditch attempt to remain a gentleman. Looking at her passion-glazed eyes, which were, he had noted, drifting downward to the unmistakable evidence of his arousal, was too much to bear.

  “I suppose that fact you have figured out by now,” she said, her voice shaky and weak.

  He opened his eyes but said nothing immediately. The war raged internally, and the way she was gazing at him was fueling the fire. “Yes,” he finally choked out, through his dry throat, “I have received the message loud and clear. I love kissing you, Elizabeth. Most ardently, and fervently want to do so very much more than kiss you!” He inhaled, clenching his jaw and digging his back into the rough bark. “That is why it is best you stay over there, and I remain here for a while, if not permanently.”