She arched her neck and peeled her shawl away, not consciously thinking of her actions until Darcy leaned closer and ran a fingertip gently across the faint silver line. Instant ripples of fire spread, and her cheeks heated. “Yes, I see the scar,” he murmured, a wave of breath adding to the flaming eddies.
“I was fortunate, considering what could have been.” Amazed her voice sounded almost normal, Lizzy drew the shawl over her shoulders and smiled up at Darcy. “That is the most exciting story I have to tell about this park, I am afraid. My other memories involve harmless playing, as those children are, picking flowers and pausing here for restful interludes while shopping.”
“It was a marvelous story, another one I am sure our children will someday love to hear. Between our various exploits, we shall keep them entertained and probably give them bad ideas.”
It was the first he had referenced their future children. The warmth infusing his voice triggered a series of delicate flutters within her belly, almost as if her body automatically responded to the vision of babies favorably.
“It is not fair that so far the stories are of my past mishaps. You allude to a reckless youth, which I find difficult to fathom. I want to hear more of your childhood, William.”
“You will, once at Pemberley. I daresay we have much more to cover while dwelling in your country. I am swiftly gathering that you were incorrigible.”
“I did have my moments but have outgrown my reckless ways. For the most part.” She smiled impishly, Darcy laughing and shaking his head.
“Before you feel the overwhelming urge to climb the elm again, I brought us to the park because I have something to give you.”
“Something to further improve my mind?” She tapped the book balancing on his thigh.
“Not this time. I am replacing the copy from Netherfield’s library, that one ruined when my cup of tea spilt onto it.” Lizzy’s brows rose. Darcy grimaced and diverted his eyes. “Miss Bingley…startled me while reading. She…bent over my shoulder unexpectedly. It was clumsy of me.”
He trailed off, shrugging and turning away from Lizzy to place the book onto the bench space behind him. She noticed how his lips were pressed tightly together and how the creases between his thick brows had deepened. Those clues of his anger, along with the hard edge to his voice, negated his effort to wave off the tea accident as nothing of significance. Obviously Caroline Bingley had done more than merely sneak up on him unawares. Lizzy was quite confident that Mr. Darcy did not rattle that easily.
What could Miss Bingley have done to anger him so? A scathing remark about me? While that was entirely plausible, it did not fit with his explanation for this incident.
Abruptly, a vision seared through Lizzy’s mind: Caroline leaning too close, her generously endowed bust brushing his arm as she murmured provocatively.
Did Caroline Bingley make some sort of intimate advance toward my fiancé? It was effortless to imagine the scene, since she had witnessed Caroline employing her seductive arts to ensnare Mr. Darcy on numerous occasions.
Those had occurred over a year ago, and at that time, Lizzy felt nothing but amusement when observing Caroline’s subtle maneuvers. What Mr. Darcy had honestly thought of Miss Bingley, Lizzy never tried to ascertain. Based on his indifference, if she had given the idea undue consideration, she would have guessed he was unmoved by Caroline’s beauty or charms. Then again, Lizzy had not suspected his strong regard for her, so who was she to claim insight into his sentiments toward Caroline? Whatever his inner musings might have been, or even if he had given Caroline Bingley a hint he might be persuaded, a sensible woman would accept that the coquettish games not successful after years of use would be utterly pointless once he was engaged to another.
In these past days, with not one but two Bennets engaged to Netherfield men, Lizzy and Jane had braced for an escalation of Caroline’s rudeness and verbal harangues. Instead, she was surprising polite, even to the point of nauseating sycophancy. The sisters tolerated her, jesting when alone at home, and not once had Lizzy wondered what transpired when they were not around.
Had Caroline decided to increase her provocative advances and sickening flattery, hoping to turn Mr. Darcy away from the unworthy country chit? And how will Mr. Darcy respond to such invitations, from Caroline or any other woman?
Lizzy experienced intense waves of fury, jealousy, and humiliation. Physically ill from the wild emotions surging inside, she was unaware of him speaking until he firmly lifted her chin.
“Are you feeling unwell, Elizabeth? You are pale and trembling. I can run for some water.”
“No, no. I am fine. Sorry. It is a bit warmer today than I thought, and this shawl is thick. I will be fine.” She slipped the shawl down and pulled her fan from within her reticule. She made a show of fanning herself—it did help to ease the fire of her emotions—and smiled brightly up at Darcy’s concerned face.
His eyes were scrunched, brows knotted, and jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscles twitch. The whole picture was one of near panic. Persistent niggles of jealousy ate at her, but his devotion was reassuring.
“I am fine, truly.” She patted his hand, only then realizing that he held a small box. “Oh! Is this what you have for me?”
“Yes, but it can wait if you need refreshment—”
Lizzy impulsively planted a short kiss to his lips, surprising both of them. “I am fine,” she repeated, a bit huskily, “and will be even better after a present.”
“As you wish.” He cleared his throat and stared downward at her left hand where it covered the box in his right. “I have been yearning to give this to you for days now. I was forced to wait until it was ready, and I planned to secure time alone with you later tonight. Our surprise encounter is, as I said earlier, fortuitous. I shall no longer feel a sense of something missing. And it is probably for the best we are in a public place.”
He muttered the last sentence under his breath. Lizzy suspected it was a thought spoken aloud, and smiled when he again cleared his throat before raising his eyes to her face. All traces of concern vanished, replaced with tender love and a sliver of embarrassment.
“Maintaining decorum when near you is…trying at best…and nigh impossible upon occasion. I am fairly certain this will be one of those occasions.”
Before Lizzy could think how to respond to such an admission, Darcy snapped open the box.
“William!” Lizzy gasped, her free hand covering lips parted in wonderment. Nestled amid a cushion of velvet was a narrow ring of gold with seven gemstones in a perfect row. Each stone was brilliantly polished and set into the band with an intricately woven design of gold.
Darcy slipped the ring onto her finger. “Elizabeth, it is important to me that you wear a tangible symbol of our engagement as a reminder of my promises to you. First is the promise to grow closer during our season of courtship. Second is the promise of my commitment to stand with you before our families and God on November twenty-eight, at which time I promise another ring will be given to symbolize my commitment for eternity. This betrothal ring is not the one I most desire to place on your finger, and I will say no more on that for now, however, as soon as I saw this in Mr. Bijoux’s jewelry case, I knew it was a splendid alternative.”
“It is stunning, William. I cannot imagine another to surpass it.”
“I am pleased you like it.”
“Like it? No, I love it! Never have I seen a ring to compare, and all these stones—”
“It is a new design in jewelry fashion by Parisian jeweler François Mellerio. Normally I pay scant attention to such things, but this one did pique my interest, probably because I was thinking of you. See, the stones are chosen to spell a message.”
He touched each one as he explained, “Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, another emerald, sapphire, and topaz.” He gazed directly into her eyes, voice rough and each word enunciated meaningfully. “DEAREST. To me, dearest Elizabeth, you are everything that the word encompasses: precious, beloved, c
herished, valued, highly regarded and respected, and so much more. I…I do not wish to overwhelm or…frighten you with my fervor. I do, however, believe it necessary to reveal the earnestness of my convictions.”
“I am not sure what to say,” Lizzy ventured after a long pause. A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Strangely, you, the man with the taciturn reputation and claims to not converse easily, have turned out to be the one in this relationship better skilled at expressing emotions verbally.”
“I am practicing.”
His ready quip broadened Lizzy’s smile. “I daresay the exercise has been effective. At times almost too effective.” She tightened the grip on his fingers when he tensed at her words. “Thank you, William, for the ring and for being honest. Understand that I am not frightened by your feelings for me, nor am I overwhelmed, precisely. It is just…” Frustrated, she exhaled and shook her head. “See what I mean? You have become the eloquent one while I stutter and blunder my words!”
“Please, Elizabeth. You have no need to worry over trying to explain. I do understand, truly. Much has happened, and quickly from your perspective. I have the advantage of age lending maturity, I suppose, but primarily the difference is that my love for you is of long standing. Despite all that passed between us before, my affection continued unabated and grew. Your love for me is a newer development. I denied my feelings for you for months, so I can appreciate the strangeness of embracing the emotions and then learning how best to reveal them.”
He glanced down at her hand, tracing the jewels on the ring encircling her finger and emitting a sound somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Considering how terribly I initially expressed my love for you, I cannot claim any expertise or be dismayed if you struggle. In time, I am confident that we will both improve in our eloquence. Now”—he patted her hand, smiled brightly, and stood to his feet, pulling her with him—“we have a village to explore and a short time left for you to tell me of all the ways you managed to get into trouble. I suspect it may well require more than one day!”
* * *
Caroline Bingley stood before the tall mirror, turning side to side as she subjectively examined herself from head to toe. Her gown was a true work of art and the latest fashion, naturally. The underdress was sheer silk of iridescent cream, overlaid by a netted-lace sheath robe of silver, belted and edged in midnight-blue gilt braid intricately woven into a scalloped design. Sewn to her precise measurements, the garment fit her figure like a glove. Rather scandalously so, considering how the braided bodice cupped her bounteous breasts and dipped into an angle pointing to the deep valley in between. The gossamer skirt intentionally draped so as to cling to her shapely legs and curve above her slender ankles. Exquisitely tailored, and outrageously priced, it was a gown intended for an exclusive Society event. Caroline was certain her modiste would die a thousand deaths if she learned her masterpiece was unveiled at a private dinner in the inconsequential town of Meryton.
Fortunate for Caroline, none of the people coming to dinner on this night were likely to report her fashion infraction. Besides, if wearing the gown accomplished the desired outcome, Caroline would be able to afford dozens of expensive ensembles on a monthly basis, and there was not a modiste in the world who would turn her nose up at that!
For good measure, Caroline adjusted the sleeves to show a bit more of her smooth shoulders and added another drop of perfume to the crevice between her breasts, pausing to plump each one to maximum effect. What it was about a woman’s bosom that made men go crazy she truly could not fathom. But it was a fact they did, and since she had caught Mr. Darcy’s gaze drop to her décolletage upon occasion, it was sensible to emphasize what she knew to be one of her prime assets. Each of the items she wore tonight, from embroidered slippers to jeweled hairpiece, were chosen to accent her best features or camouflage her few flaws.
Her mission to entice Mr. Darcy away from Miss Elizabeth was proceeding. Not as swiftly as hoped, she cringed to admit. Opportunities to strike were limited, since catching him alone had proven to be nigh on impossible. To her chagrin, he passed most of his time away from Netherfield in the company of that woman. The handful of hours when the Bennet sisters were with the gentlemen at Netherfield, Caroline grit her teeth and forced polite words between her lips, hoping to persuade him by the contrast of her charm and refinement to theirs.
Mr. Darcy had forever been a man difficult to read, and she might have feared she was failing if not for his response on those fortunate encounters when she was able to attack—such as the incident in the library with Mr. Darcy so flustered by her close proximity and pressure of supple breast on his arm that he spilled his tea all over the book he was reading.
Caroline laughed aloud at the remembered flush that had spread over his cheeks, how he had avoided her eyes, and hastily vacated the room. Indeed, like all men, Mr. Darcy was a slave to passions—hence the decision to bombard with her entire physical and sensual arsenal tonight. Elizabeth Bennet was no match for Caroline Bingley, of that she was certain.
Giving a final tug to her bodice, she headed downstairs to welcome their guests. As luck would have it, her prey was alone in the front parlor when she entered. He stood by a wide window, tall and stately, dressed impeccably as always, and gazed placidly onto the front avenue. Always she had admired his physical attractiveness and pronounced masculinity, yet it was his arrogance and self-possession that appealed to her more than the rest. The latter was evident in the way he glanced her direction, then after a flash of widened eyes and rapid second glance, resumed his calm contemplation of the graveled drive. His stiffened spine and tense jaw revealed he was not unaffected, however.
Hiding her satisfied smile, Caroline glided across the room and sidled as close to him as decency allowed. “Is there something of riveting interest, Mr. Darcy? Or are you merely enjoying the sunset?”
“It is a colorful sunset, although I would prefer it not transpire so early. Shadowy roads are treacherous.”
“Your concern is commendable if unnecessary. Our guests have passed their entire lives within a radius of ten, twenty miles at the most, so I am sure the roads are familiar to them. If Miss Elizabeth can walk across open, muddy fields without mishap or losing her way, a carriage ride should contain no hazards.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him press his lips tightly together, but he said nothing. Hopefully her subtle jibes brought to mind how uncultured the residents were, particularly his betrothed with her ill-bred behavior. Letting the image of a mud-splattered, sun-browned, and wind-swept Elizabeth Bennet linger, and compare with her refined beauty, Caroline turned until facing him. Again he glanced down at her, Caroline smiling seductively and catching his eyes before he looked back out the window.
“How well do you know the people Charles invited to dinner? I confess I cannot recall them at all, despite Charles assuring me they came to the ball last year. Frankly, I am divinely grateful to have largely forgotten that night of what passes for genteel society in Hertfordshire. Nevertheless, I have promised Charles, and you, Mr. Darcy”—she laid one hand onto his forearm—“to be hospitable to the friends of the Bennets, so I will be the perfect hostess. I even wore my newest gown for the occasion”—she slid her free hand provocatively along her torso—“a risk on my part since it is unlikely they will appreciate the nuances of high fashion.”
“Your suspicions are undoubtedly correct, Miss Bingley. I fear wearing that ensemble will be a wasted effort.” He walked away from the window, speaking in the same dry tone, “Mr. Denbigh is a barrister and a fine billiard player. We met at the Club when staying here last year, and then again yesterday. Pleasant gentleman, well read and educated. I have not met Mrs. Denbigh, so cannot say whether she is versed in modern fashion or not. Mr. Denniston owns a modest estate not far from Longbourn, and he is betrothed to Miss Desiree Stedman, a longtime friend to Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. I have met both on several occasions lately. He is a gentleman, and Miss Stedman is sweet, although re
markably shy. In that respect, she reminds me of Georgiana.”
Only half listening to his commentary on their guests, who she cared not one iota about, Caroline watched him walk to the sidebar and pour a glass of wine. Outwardly there were no signs of wound nerves, so she could only hope that his need to imbibe was due to her. Intent on testing the theory, she left the window, drifting toward him in a leisurely manner. Darcy, she noted, flicked his eyes her direction without turning his head—not the appreciative stare she would have preferred, but he also did not move away from the sidebar.
“I am surprised you do not remember Sir Giles Osteler. He is a baronet, unmarried, wealthy, and has a fine estate, Tawneywood, to the north near Boddenham. Excellent reasons for him to capture your interest, Miss Bingley. I knew him at Cambridge, ironically, although it never occurred to me that he might be on friendly terms with Sir William Lucas. Accompanying Sir Giles will be his sister, Miss Ada Osteler, who is, I understand, scheduled for her Court presentation this next year. Therefore, in my estimation, these two are likely the only ones here tonight to appreciate your choice of clothing.”
“I suppose it is true that Jane and Eliza are sadly démodé, not being able to afford the best fashion magazines upon first issuance. Poor dears. Then to be at the mercy of a village seamstress and the limited number of merchants available in Meryton. I have checked for myself, and it is appalling the dearth of choices in fabrics and lace!”
“I suspect Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth are not limited by lacking knowledge or choices, but rather dress in apparel that is demure and practical as a reflection of their characters.”
“There is a place for practicality, I suppose, but demure is not an attribute most women of Society find advantageous. Clearly modesty or plainness of dress is not desired by gentlemen, since they are the ones who establish the fashion styles for females.”
Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) Page 13