I closed the door behind me and turned the key to lock it, though I knew it was not necessary. Not even Bingley had sought me out in this sanctuary. The stillness of the room was at once exactly suited to calm my agitated state. Never in my life had I experienced so many fluctuations in my feelings as I had in that last hour.
The room was cool, though a fire was in the grate. I again compared it to the heat of the ballroom and was refreshed. Despite the welcome change in temperature, I stirred the coals and added a few pieces of wood. The light that the newly fed fire gave to the room was sufficient to reach even the furthest recesses.
I pulled at the restrictions of my tailcoat and managed to remove it without difficulty. The chill kissed the slightly dampened and wrinkled arms of my shirtsleeves as I draped the garment across a chair by the fire.
The distant sound of girlish laughter echoed, ghost-like, through the wall behind me. Turning, I studied the plain paneling of the blank wall there. The other side of that must be near enough to the ladies’ retirement room to have allowed some of the occupants’ pleasure to sound through.
I wondered at once if one of the ladies whose laughter came weakly through the wall was Elizabeth. While she looked to have been upset upon her hasty retreat from the ballroom, perhaps I had been mistaken and she simply needed a break from the heat. Slowly, I walked to a nearby decanter of spirits and poured myself a small measure in a crystal glass. As I brought the dark liquid to my lips, I allowed myself the pleasure of thinking of Elizabeth, laughing with her companions, her eyes lit with sparkling, good humor as her natural joie de vivre shone through her countenance.
Abruptly, I forced my thoughts in another direction. I did not like this feeling inside me. This out-of-control madness that had taken over my carefully cultivated reserve. Never in my life had a woman so disturbed me. With her, I could not think, act, or feel in a reasonable manner. It was as if she had weaseled her way into my organized world and thrown it into chaos—complete and utter chaos.
I rested an arm heavily on the mantel as the other came up to attempt to dislodge the lump in my throat with a hefty gulp from my glass; the burn from the liquor entirely ineffective at its job.
“Elizabeth,” I whispered to the room.
I did not want to admit it, but I believed that I had gone far from admiring the lady. My affections had spiraled out of control, growing into a living, breathing thing—growing into love.
I felt the blood drain from my face, despite the heat from the fire pressing me.
“I cannot. It is not possible.”
But I knew it to be true.
With shuddering breath, I raised the glass to my lips again, only to find it empty. When had I finished it? No matter, its contents had made me numb, or was that the recent revelation?
My other hand placed the glass upon the mantel and provided balance as the surge of realization made me feel weak. There I stayed, gripping the marble as if on the edge of a cliff, unable or unwilling to let go to the inevitable. So jumbled were the rushing thoughts in my mind that I barely registered the creak of wood and whine of long unused hinges.
But the feminine gasp behind me most certainly caught my attention.
I whirled around towards the blank wall, the very one I had studied moments before as I wondered if Elizabeth was the source of laughter behind it. Only this time, it was not empty paneling but an alarmed and white-faced Elizabeth!
Her hands were splayed wide against the wall, arms and body pressed against it. Her chest was heaving, the rapid breaths doing nothing to bring back the color of her startled and disbelieving face.
Mine, I could venture to say, would not have looked much different, though I dared not turn to the looking glass above the mantel behind me to confirm. Seeing Elizabeth before me, in my own study, was much too much a shock to risk looking away. Together we stood staring for what could only have been a moment but felt like a strange, never-ending dream.
I dared a quick glance to the door, the key still turned in the lock. Even as the thought registered through my mind that she had followed me and slipped in the door, I dismissed it. Impossible! I had locked the door myself and could now see with my own eyes that it remained so.
“How?”
She whimpered, nearly just a squeak of her own in response, and stupidly I looked again at the door.
“Pardon me,” I blurted, and bowed—ingrained rules of propriety falling into place in the absence of anything rational. “Excuse me, but . . . how?”
Elizabeth—I saw—parted her lips to speak and my eyes were drawn unwaveringly toward them. They were pale like her face, and absurdly, I felt the wish to kiss them into color. What a desire to have when the impossible had just happened! Totally inappropriate, and nonetheless, I could not shake it. I felt as if I had conjured her into existence and yet I knew her to be real, despite the dim light touching some of her features and casting the rest into shadow.
She seemed to come to her senses better than I did, for I was still suffering from the most acute freeze of thought as I stared at her beautiful countenance, when she spoke.
“I hardly know. I was . . . and now I am . . . ”
She looked around, and I knew the moment she went from the bewilderment of her changed location to the realization that we were alone. Ahhh, there is the color to her cheeks. The warmth that now flooded her ivory skin was intoxicating, especially through the lens of soft light from the fire. I took an involuntary step toward her. She stiffened and pressed herself further against the wall.
I stopped immediately and placed my hands up in gentle supplication. “I do not mean to frighten you, Miss Elizabeth.”
“How did I get here, sir?”
I did not like the waver in her voice, and compassion filled my breast and softened my tone. “I do not know. I am trying to figure that out myself. Perhaps, if you explain what happened just prior to your . . . your arrival?”
I spoke as if to a startled animal, wishing to make her feel comfortable. The reason in my voice calmed her and she transformed a little right before my eyes. Her panicked press against the wall relaxed slightly as the search for logic seemed to settle her mind and propelled her to answer.
“I was on my way to . . . refresh myself. But the room was quite clearly full of others. Their laughter was . . . I was not . . . I did not feel myself inclined towards company so I found an alcove.”
She looked around her as if expecting to be still in the alcove.
“I know it.” The alcove would have been directly behind her, if his memory served.
“I hid myself in the shadow created by the space to regain my composure, when my shoe slipped on the molding behind me.” She looked down at the base of the wall behind her. “Something clicked, and the rest I do not understand, for when the air swirled around me, I shut my eyes.”
I raised my brow at this, a reasonable explanation now coming to me.
“When next I opened my eyes, I was no longer in the alcove but here, sir. With you.”
I could not prevent the half smile that tugged at my lips when she once again colored with a beautiful blush. So Netherfield had secret passageways and doors! Pemberley had a few I had loved to explore as a child. This one had clearly not been used for some time for I recalled the groan of the hinge. I nodded to Elizabeth, now noticing an unlit sconce above her head that had not been on this side of the wall before.
When my eyes finished categorizing of the wall, I once again looked at Elizabeth. Though her eyes were on me, they did not meet mine. They seemed to harbor a mixture of embarrassment and interest. Her eyes roamed over my person, and I looked down to see what drew her inspection with such silent interest. I remembered at once my state of undress. Hastily, I withdrew a few steps, clumsily stumbling into the very chair I wished to reach in pursuit of my tailcoat.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I had not expected to be in company,” I said with evident agitation. I stood and immediately tried to don my tailcoat with as much speed as
was possible for the restrictive garment, only to halt my effort in horror. With no little hesitance, I turned to look at Elizabeth, confirming to my mind that I had indeed addressed her by her Christian name.
Her face registered astonishment but no condemnation. Before the latter could manifest itself, I spoke. “I must beg your forgiveness, Miss Elizabeth. I had no right . . . I should not have addressed you so informally . . . ”
Laughter bubbled up out of her, bringing with it a stop to my bumbling speech and effectively stunning me with the added brilliance that magical sound brought to her smile. Her smile! I was so relieved to see a smile, instead of her face turned in disgust at my presumption, that I too began to laugh.
Pressure and tension from the entire evening began to release at the sudden hilarity, and I found it entirely wonderful to feel it go. My deeper tenor of laughter mixed headily with her higher pitched tones for a moment before I noticed I was the only one laughing. Elizabeth had stopped and was staring at me. I did not understand her fascination, for everyone laughs. I smiled at her, my grin broadening to see her smile tremulously back again and her cheeks reddening charmingly once more.
After a moment of unrestrained admiration, I stood tall and resumed a more formal air. I walked towards her tentatively, so as not to startle her as before. “It seems as if you have discovered a secret door. If you would step aside, I might find the lever again and you can be on your way, no one the wiser for our secret little meeting.”
She nodded her assent as I was but a few steps away. She ducked her head and stepped further into the room to allow me access to the wall. The next wonderful moment I found her in my arms, having stumbled forward into them. I know it could only have been a moment before my hands left her slim waist to travel to her arms and help her to stand assured again, but it was a wonderfully, long moment.
Between the next series of apologies, blushing murmurs, and half-whispered explanations, we discovered the point at which the secret door fit against the room’s wall, for several of her naughty trailing ribbons had become caught in it during the swift turn of the hinge at her entrance. Thus, her stumble into my arms.
With a bit of a smile, I said, “I am afraid, Miss Elizabeth, that you are quite trapped.”
“Oh!” Her hesitant laughter, clearly meant to hide her uneasiness but not quite effectively doing so, charmed me further. Boldly, I availed myself the touch of her arms as I placed my own hands on them again.
“Step back again to the wall, Eliz—” my eyes caught hers again at the near mistake “—Miss Elizabeth, lest you tear your gown. Perhaps you might repeat what your slipper did to bring you here.”
Nodding, she said, “Yes, I . . . good idea, Mr. Darcy.”
The bottom of her skirt rustled as beneath the folds her foot repeatedly pressed against the wall. After a time, it was clear she could not detect the lever which brought her to my sanctuary.
“Shall I . . . ?” The words died in my throat as I indicated the wall behind her.
She nodded, and I threw her a glance of apology as I crouched down near her feet to run my fingers along the molding at the base of the wall. I felt along from the point at which the ribbons had been pinched between the wall and the secret door until my hands reached where her gown hung. My heart beat fiercely in my chest, though my breath was held. My hands stilled.
I cleared my throat, and with a good measure of embarrassment to be so obviously affected by our position, I attempted to speak steadily.
“I need to feel behind you. May I have permission to move your skirts aside?”
I kept my gaze down, for I could clearly feel the heat in my cheeks and did not trust that my desire for her would not register in my eyes. When I heard no reply, I forced myself to look up. Her face peering down at me only drove my madness further, making me wish to stand, take her in my arms and press her against this very wall with a kiss that would break the tension that swirled between us, between our locked gazes—secret door be damned!
Instead, I waited and soon Elizabeth nodded slightly. I thought it best to look down again quickly, lest I lose whatever tenuous control I had to the formidable strength of my feelings for her. I noted her hands clenched in fists within the folds of her gown. A part of me hoped that at least a small measure of her discomfort was due to matching emotions. The flood of temptation this thought caused again forced me keep my head down.
Carefully, I pushed aside her gown with one hand as the other slid along the molding, looking for some lever or indentation to reveal the means to engage the door. Her perfume wafted in the air around me. As I pushed the gown aside, it was all I could do to concentrate on the texture of the wall—and not the soft silk falling through my fingers like water nor the glimpse of slender ankle revealed along with her delicate slipper. I cleared my throat again and shifted to inspect the molding on the other side of her.
With disconcertion at being unable to detect even the smallest irregularity, I stood to voice my confusion when my complaint evaporated in my head. I was much closer to her upon standing then I intended, and we were close enough for the near embrace of a waltz. I could not have helped what happened next, for I found myself stepping even closer, my attention locked first on her fine eyes and then dropped to her full lips. I swear upon my father’s grave, I did not imagine myself the type of gentleman to importune a woman but my head bent of its own accord.
Elizabeth gasped at the realization of my intent, pressing herself against the wall just as my hand rested gently on the curve of her hip. Her feet shuffled and her hands pressed the wall behind us, and with a whoosh of air and the same creak of the hinge, suddenly we were both in the alcove.
The echo of footsteps, the tinkling of laughter coming closer was as effective a means for sobriety as ever I had experienced before. I was now fully aware of my proximity to Elizabeth, of the compromising position, and most acutely of our impending discovery. My head snapped towards her and caught her frightened eyes. Had they been so before the movement of the door? I had no time to chastise myself for my rakish behavior, though.
“Quickly, press the lever again. For otherwise we will be discovered!” I whispered.
“I do not know what I did any more than before, sir!” She was understandably flustered, perhaps even angry. Had I time enough, I too would have been justifiably angry, for I had put her in this position.
The voices drew closer and my heart, already quite radically beating, picked up into a feverish pace. I looked behind me, knowing we were out of time, as the voices nearing us were only steps away. Turning back to Elizabeth, I whispered fervently, “Forgive me this. I must hide your identity.”
And then I pressed myself up against her again, covering her entirely with my larger, broader frame. I intended merely to shield her. But she gasped and began to object, and in an attempt to prevent notice, I captured her mouth with my own.
On my word as a gentleman, I swear I had not planned to do it. You might say it was a crazed impulse of the moment. I meant to only silence her. I could not have anticipated that the feel of her warm lips upon my own would effectively silence all my other worries regarding discovery and propel me well beyond simply shielding her. It felt a lot like destiny as I was thrown into a world of pure joy. My instincts took over as I gently pressed another soft kiss on her stunned lips, caressing them with my own. At first, she stood stiffly between me and the wall, but finally she melted. When my mind registered the ecstasy of feeling her arms come about my neck, her fingers diving into my dark hair, I knew pure bliss. I slowed our kiss and allowed my lips to brush past her cheek to speak in her ear.
“Be still, my love. We are almost safe.”
I was pleased I could muster enough coherency to utter that much. My words were meant to ensure she did not speak. I meant to keep her from drawing any more attention to our small alcove then necessary. I had hopes that the space would be dark enough not to bring anyone’s attention at all, but at least she would be hidden. Nobody would know her
identity.
The headiness of our kiss evaporated at my words, and I did not relish the return to her stiffness, as her hands slipped back to her side. Still, I was pleased to note she remained silent as the sound of ladies walked past our hidden spot without so much as a pause in their chatter.
For some moments we remained thus, in our close positioning. Then the alcove was again empty but for us. The depressing blanket of reality began to suffocate the fire of emotion within me, causing me to step back a little.
Neither of us spoke. We just looked at each other. When her pink tongue slipped out to taste her swollen bottom lip, I nearly cried out with sudden want again. Desperation and self-preservation forced me to look away, which is when I discovered Elizabeth’s hand upon the dado rail behind her—the molding there having a slight irregularity.
Without thought, I reached for it, covering her hand with mine, causing her to step back against the wall in surprise. That proved the solution, for with a whoosh of air I should have expected, and she should have become accustomed to, we were once again in the privacy of my study.
I stepped away from her then and motioned to where her hand was pressed against the wall—at the level of the dado rail.
“There is the lever.”
Elizabeth stepped away from the wall to look; this time her ribbons had not caught in the hinge.
“It must have only appeared to be your foot, for when you first slipped, you must have caught yourself on this molding here.”
Elizabeth agreed with me, her happiness at discovering such a mystery easily seen upon her features. My own delight quieted upon seeing her pink lips.
I could no longer live in this alternate world of delightful Elizabeth, carefree of consequences. Those consequences of my actions now came upon me with full force.
Motioning to the wall, “I . . . forgive me for my presumption.”
Elizabeth took my meaning immediately, for she was a clever girl. Her cheeks pinked again, at the memory, I supposed. But then her chin lifted and when I caught her gaze, they were not darkened with desire as I expected, but with anger. It stunned me, for had I not all but declared myself in our previous interactions? I had expressed my interest in my singling her out on more than one occasion. She could not be surprised by my desire, certainly not.
The Darcy Monologues: A romance anthology of Pride and Prejudice short stories in Mr. Darcy's own words Page 12