“You missed me?”
“Yes, I missed you, as you have declared to have missed me," she reaffirmed. A crimson blush peeked over his collar, and she asked, “What troubles you, sir?”
"That my utterance was audible,” he said, now feeling foolish.
Clearly, he had not meant to speak aloud, and his discomfiture was evident. She, however, had been both pleased and touched at his declaration. Elizabeth, known to sometimes speak what should only be thought, understood how he felt. Unfortunately, too much had been said to now ignore it. She had already acknowledged it with a reply. To ease his discomfiture, she spoke again.
“We are adults, betrothed and hold each other in affection. Why in a little over a week we will share more than sentimental words, sir. Let us not dwell negatively on words expressed with honest feeling. You declared to have missed me, and I have returned the compliment. Is it that you are shocked to hear that I have missed you, Mr Darcy? Maybe you would prefer I did not voice my emotions but refrained from doing so, perhaps taking my example from Miss Bingley?” she teased.
Darcy knew she would never falsify her feelings to placate him; it was not her nature. Therefore, her words must be genuine and heartfelt.
“Indeed, madam, I am pleasantly surprised and welcome any and all affection that you offer me, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied, and smiled broadly.
The urge to take her in his arms and shower her with kisses engulfed him. Hoping to expand on the conversation in a more pleasurable way, Darcy ventured,
“I wonder, Miss Elizabeth, might you be inclined to brave the December chill and accompany me in a turnabout the gardens to continue this debate?”
Knowing they would be afforded some privacy there, Elizabeth was intrigued as to what he had in mind; she was just about to accept his offer when her mother burst in.
“Oh, Mr Darcy, I just heard such terrible news; poor Mr Wickham dead and before he could make my dear girl a bride! How fortunate that you should come to her aid. I cannot bear to think what would have happened to her otherwise. Lizzie ring for Hill to bring us some tea. Sit by me, Mr Darcy, for I have many questions, and Mr Bennet was most un-obliging." She patted the seat adjacent to her own. "Run along now Lizzie, Mr Darcy is waiting,” she said, effectively dismissing Elizabeth.
Elizabeth and Darcy exchanged rueful smiles. Yes, he is waiting, she thought, but ’tis not for a dish of tea. Elizabeth closed the door behind her to the strains of Mrs Bennet lamenting Wickham’s demise.
CHAPTER 20
Two days before the wedding, Mrs Bennet called Elizabeth into the parlour. Sitting in her preferred chair, she bade Lizzie sit next to her. Elizabeth could see samples of material and receipts for goods clutched in her hand. It appeared she could not completely escape the business of wedding planning.
“Now, Lizzie, I know we agreed I would make all the arrangements and decisions for your wedding, but I thought you would want to know how diligently I have beavered on your behalf,” she finished with a sniff.
Elizabeth had taken her father’s council and agreed to whatever her mother wanted, thus keeping her from interrupting either Elizabeth’s and more importantly Mr Bennet’s usual routine. It had worked well until this morning when she had insisted Elizabeth show some interest. With the exception to her wedding gown, Elizabeth had happily let her mother make all the decisions. Truthfully, she knew her mother would ignore any advice or objections she offered.
Elizabeth listened assiduously while her mother shared the details of the menu, course by course before moving on to her trousseau. She detailed every garment and matched it with either a receipt or sample. Elizabeth sighed; her mother had obviously forgotten that she had insisted Lizzie check each item when she sent them from Brighton. After two hours of smiling sweetly and nodding where expected, Elizabeth felt stifled, and her cheeks ached from smiling.
Seeing her mama pause, she took the opportunity to say
“Mama, I knew by leaving the arrangements to you they would be in the most capable of hands. Your skill and knowledge of all things needed for such a celebration far exceeds anyone else’s in my acquaintance. I will enjoy my wedding day knowing each oyster or lark is the finest to be had, my clothes the most stylish, and the decorations the most beautiful. It was exceedingly thoughtful of you to remove this burden from me, and I will take pleasure in the fact that all will run smoothly because of you.”
Hearing herself speak these words, Elizabeth realised her gratitude was indeed genuine.
“Well, yes, that was, of course, my aim.” Mrs Bennet replied.
Though she did feel a tinge of embarrassment at the compliment paid her. In truth, she had enjoyed it immensely; it had filled her days and brought back vivid memories of her own joyous wedding day.
“Also, I am well versed in the art of negotiation, and you are not as yet, Elizabeth. I have needed it with many of the tradesmen too. Once they knew how deep your father’s pockets were in regard to your nuptials, some tried to increase their prices threefold. I was most severe on them,” she said with a wag of her finger “I reminded them I have five daughters to wed, and if they wanted our continued custom, they must adjust their prices accordingly,” she added indignantly.
Lizzie smiled and nodded in acknowledgement of her mother’s efforts, then went to rise and make her exit. Unfortunately, her mama had not finished and began to address her again.
“And so, you may be confident that everything that can be prepared in advance has been so. Even your trousseau has been packed in readiness for its journey north.”
“Mr Darcy will be pleased to hear this, I will tell him with all haste,” said Elizabeth, and she again tried to take her leave.
“Hold your horses, Missy, I have yet to relay the delegation of accommodation to you,” came her mother’s sharp reply.
“All the guests have been assigned appropriate accommodation,” she said with a triumphant flourish. “Mr & Mrs Gardiner will, of course, stay at Longbourn and then they can assist in any last-minute preparations. Mr & Mrs Collins, detestable man that he is, will stay at Lucas Lodge with Charlotte’s family. Do you know Lizzie,” she said leaning nearer to whisper, “I am told Mr Collins has informed Lady Catherine of his attendance by missive only, do you not find that strange?” she asked.
Elizabeth wondered how her mama knew these things, for the Collins had yet to arrive in Meryton. It was probably her Aunt Phillips, who was unofficially acknowledged as the town gossipmonger.
“Now who’s next? Oh, yes, Mr Darcy’s family. The Earl of Matlock and his wife Lady Abigail, will, of course, stay at Netherfield, as will their son Richard. I believe he is to be Mr Darcy’s groom’s man. Mr Bingley’s sisters and Mr Hurst arrive today, and Caroline Bingley will relieve Miss Darcy as hostess until Jane becomes mistress, of course. All the other guests are only day visitors,” she finished with a flourish.
Everything was indeed ready, and she could now look forward to the ball, which Sir William Lucas had insisted in hosting.
Sir William took all the credit for the union between Elizabeth and Darcy, for he had first introduced them at the Meryton assembly. Although many a mama, including Charlotte’s own, were decidedly displeased at the outcome of this introduction.
Elizabeth finally managed to escape into the garden for a few minutes’ solitude before the serious business of dressing for the ball began.
Elizabeth felt tense as they approached Lucas Lodge. Darcy had insisted that she rode with him and Georgiana. She was pleased with not having to endure the overcrowding of the Bennet carriage, and she must get used to travelling with Darcy, but still, the closeness of him tonight made her uneasy. His dark, penetrating eyes rarely left her face. She had tried to make polite conversation with them both, but Georgiana was too excited at the prospects of attending a real ball, and Darcy was unwavering in his attention and replied only curtly. As they pulled up to the entrance, the footman jumped down to help the ladies out of the carriage, but Darcy brushed him aside a
nd completed the task himself.
Once inside and relieved of their cloaks, Darcy admired Elizabeth’s gown. The under layer was pure white and reached the floor, where her matching slippers peeped out. The sheer over layer was decorated with small silver flowers and leaves, intricately woven into the fabric. Her dark locks were in the Grecian style with silver headed pins holding it in place. She was stunning; he was under no illusion that he would be the envy of every man here tonight. He glanced around the room and then frowned; there were too many people, too many men. The prospect of other men coveting his fiancé was extremely distasteful to him. He must also be circumspect over Georgiana. As she was not yet ‘out,’ Darcy should have refused her pleas to accompany them, but he saw no harm in her attending a small family gathering. Of course, she would not be able to dance with anyone other than Richard and himself, but she was content with this arrangement. Her delicate features glowed with excitement, and it made her look younger than her sixteen years. The delicate gown of lemon, with small green vines growing up from the hem, suited her perfectly. He would have his work cut out this evening, ensuring the well-being of both his ladies. As usual, Darcy was dressed impeccably, with his waistcoat complementing Elizabeth’s dress perfectly, embroidered with a pattern of silver knots.
Sir William and Lady Lucas greeted them, offering felicitations on their upcoming nuptials, and then Sir William bade them enjoy their last night as single people, and he winked at Darcy. It was kindly meant but inappropriate with two unwed females at his side. Sir William had a tendency to put into words sentiments that should remain thoughts, but his jolly demeanour showed it was said in jest and not with malice.
Charlotte and Mr Collins welcomed them next, and Darcy’s brow furrowed again. He offered the clergyman the curtest of nods in acknowledgement of his greeting, then swept the women into the ballroom. Elizabeth was mortified that he had let Mr Collins’ presence affect him so. She alone understood the reason behind his action, yet to others, it would appear as though he had been excessively rude. She would have to remind him that his actions now reflected on her too.
It turned out to be more than the intimate gathering she had been led to believe, but at least most of the guests were friends or family. Spying Colonel Fitzwilliam, she hoped he would ask her to dance, they had enjoyed a warm friendship when both in Kent.
Elizabeth watched as Georgiana gently disengaged herself from her brother’s arm and went to talk to Elizabeth’s younger sisters, who were now standing with Maria Lucas. She felt a pang of envy at how carefree and happy they seemed and longed to join them as they laughed and chatted together. Six short weeks ago, she could have done just that, she thought ruefully.
Elizabeth and Darcy would be expected to open the dancing, but she knew he did not care for such frivolities. Charles had once told her ‘Darcy never lifts a hoof, even though he is most proficient in all aspects of the dance.’ A sigh escaped her as she realised if Darcy did not take her to the floor, she could accept no other man’s offer. It would be an unpardonable breach of protocol. No, she must resign herself to enjoying it vicariously. Slyly she glanced at her escort, yes, he was still watching her, only now his piercing stare was accompanied by a smile.
As the musicians struck up the chords for the minuet, he bowed and asked,
“Miss Bennet, may I have the honour of the first dance?”
Elizabeth was taken aback by his offer, and for a moment words failed her. Her surprise must have registered on her face, and she stumbled over her reply.
“I did not, that is, I did not think that … yes, I thank you.”
Darcy raised both brows in a questioning pose and then held out his hand. She placed her hand in his, and mutely they walked to the dance floor. Uncomfortably conscious that all eyes were upon them, Elizabeth realised every step, every expression would be scrutinised by the people assembled. With Darcy’s intense dislike for large gatherings, or being the centre of attention, she felt more than a little nervous.
The music started, and they performed the customary salute before meeting, circling and returning several times as the dance dictated. Fellow revellers slowly joined them, and Elizabeth observed Darcy’s shoulders relax, happier to now be one of many. As the dance continued, she realised Charles was right, Darcy was indeed an excellent dancer and conducted the steps with an easy air.
“Sir, you dance with an abundance of style and grace, why do you dislike it so?” she asked playfully.
“You are mistaken, madam. I do not dislike dancing; I enjoy it a great deal. It is that I find it difficult to secure a partner that meets my standard,” Darcy said honestly. “I recall the first time I saw you dance; it was with the imbecile Collins. He was out of time and trod on your slipper, dislodging a flower.”
Elizabeth remembered how mortified she had been at Mr Collins’ ineptitude, and that she had to constantly correct him.
“I did not realise you had observed us sir or that you had noticed the state of my slippers. I am surprised you would concern yourself with such trifling matters. Do I meet your exacting standards, Mr Darcy?”
As the dance drew them together, Elizabeth caught her breath. Darcy’s gaze seemed more intensified, and she felt as though his penetrating stare had somehow pierced her very soul. Taking both her hands, Darcy held them over his heart and replied with quiet, yet devastating passion.
“From our very first meeting, Elizabeth, my eyes have followed only you. There is not one moment when in each other’s company that I cannot recall the gown you wore, the style of your hair or who your partner was. For every smile, I remember the time and the place. Every word, every glance you have ever bestowed on me, kind or otherwise, they are all indelibly committed to my memory. Not one heartbeat have I forgotten.”
Elizabeth felt spellbound; his words exposed the depth of his love, and they washed over her like an embrace. She had longed for such love, a passion that even after possession, was not sated. They stood motionless while all around them danced.
“Come, Darcy, you must not monopolise Miss Elizabeth in this fashion, I believe she is promised to me for this dance.”
As the fog of emotion cleared and reality returned, Darcy became aware that the dance had ended, and the musicians were still. They stood alone on the dance floor, being silently observed by the rest of the guests.
Realising it was Bingley who had come to their rescue, Darcy turned and muttered,
“Thank you, Charles, maybe the next one.”
Without words, but still in possession of her hand, Darcy led Elizabeth from the ballroom onto the deserted terrace. The biting December air enveloped them, but neither felt it. Stopping at the veranda's edge, Elizabeth took hold of the stone balustrade. The impact of his words still reverberated around her mind. She had read about such powerful loves, in the books of poets and Master Shakespeare, never dreaming she could be the recipient of such herself. She had always professed this would be the only thing that could induce her to marry, but now she had found it, she could not, in all honesty, say she returned the sentiment. Oh, she wanted to, so very much she wanted to, but her feelings were unclear even to herself. If she professed to love him and it was false, it would mean heartbreak for them both. No, it was better to stay silent until she was sure. Again, the immenseness of Darcy’s declaration washed over her, the power of his all-consuming love saturating every fibre of her being, and she began to tremble. She tightened her grip on the rail lest Darcy mistook her shaking for shivering, but too late.
He slipped his coat off and draped it over her, his warm hands lingering on her shoulders. Hesitantly, she covered them with her own and then leant back on him for support.
“I did not know,” she murmured.
His warm baritone voice whispered close to her ear, “You did not know what Elizabeth? How those many months apart were torture for me? How I risked my friendship with Charles in order to reunite him with Jane? Or maybe you are referring to Lydia, and the sacrifice I was willing to make t
o restore her to her family. That I have openly disregarded my family and society, by choosing to marry for love? Tell me that you know how my heart burns with a passion so violent that you are the very air that I breathe. Surely you must know Elizabeth; all I have done, I have done for you, only you.”
The anguish in his voice deafened her to propriety, and she turned and sought his lips with her own. She wanted to kiss away all the pain her family had caused him, to thank him for helping Lydia and Jane, and to fill the void of his absent family. And as their lips met, she felt his arms slide around her waist, drawing her still nearer. His acceptance of her imperfect family brought tears to her eyes, and unable to restrain them, they silently slid down her cheeks.
Her kiss was bittersweet in so many ways Darcy thought, as the salt mingled on their lips. This was not the response he had hoped to provoke with his declaration. The uncertainty of what lie behind her actions was nothing short of agony. He longed for her caresses to be given with love, but suspected they were in gratitude. But for now, he would take whatever she offered. Hopefully, she would come to love him in time, for he could not, would not, live without her by his side.
Elizabeth, unable to hold back the sobs any longer, tore her mouth from his and buried her face in his coat. Darcy comforted her with soft words of reassurance until finally, Elizabeth managed to regain control of her emotions. Then Darcy lifted her chin to look into her eyes. Beautiful limpid pools of the darkest brown, still glistening with tears. He untucked his neckcloth and used the end to dry her eyes, knowing Fletcher would admonish him for it later. Concerned they had been gone too long already, Darcy tenderly stroked her hair, and then her cheek before offering his verbal reassurance.
“My love is constant, Elizabeth. I will wait a lifetime if that is what it takes, but for now, I fear we must return. You are promised to Charles for the next dance, are you not?”
Retrieving his coat from her shoulders, he quickly shrugged himself back into it. He had not meant to cause her such distress and was heartily ashamed of himself for revealing the extent of his love in such a way. Sighing, he knew there was little hope their actions had gone unnoticed, but they must return.
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