Mr. Darcy's Letter

by Abigail Reynolds

  “Do not change a thing about yourself.” Darcy reached out a finger and touched a curl of her hair that lay on her face. “You are perfection already.”

  CHAPTER 18

  In the end, it was determined between them that Elizabeth would apply for her mother’s consent alone that evening. Elizabeth could not imagine how her mother would take it; sometimes doubting whether all his wealth and grandeur would be enough to overcome her abhorrence of the man. But whether she were violently set against the match, or violently delighted with it, it was certain that her manner would be equally ill adapted to do credit to her sense; and she could no more bear that Mr. Darcy should hear the first raptures of her joy, than the first vehemence of her disapprobation. Hopefully, by the time of his return, the worst of the storm would have passed.

  First, though, there was the parting to be endured, as Elizabeth’s new happiness warred with the emptiness she felt when he departed. She laughingly chided herself for missing something she had not had until a few hours earlier, but still felt warm tears in her eyes.

  She sought out Jane in the still room to open her heart to her. Though suspicion was very far from Jane's general habits, she was absolutely incredulous here.

  “You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be! Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”

  “This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you; and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”

  Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy! it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”

  “You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgot. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

  Jane still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again and more seriously assured her of its truth.

  “Good Heaven! can it be really so! Yet now I must believe you,” cried Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would —I do congratulate you—but are you certain? Forgive the question. Are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”

  “There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

  “Very much. I have always had a value for him, and his great love for you speaks volumes to his worth.”

  Jane turned away as she spoke, then fell silent.

  “What is the matter? Are you ill?”

  “No, dearest Lizzy. I am very happy for you, and I beg you to disregard it if I should have my own moments of sadness. I am glad Mr. Darcy has the courage to marry you in adversity.”

  Elizabeth longed to tell her that Mr. Bingley might yet return, but dared not raise hopes that might again be disappointed. She prayed Mr. Darcy was correct in his assessment. It would be a cruel blow to Jane if she discovered Mr. Bingley was courting another so very soon. “He is fortunate to have the resources to ignore our recent difficulties. Not all gentlemen could afford to do so.”

  “You are quite right, Lizzy,” said Jane bravely. “I could not have borne to have caused distress in Mr.

  Bingley’s family. It is for the best that it happened as it did.”

  “As very little has ever happened which you did not say was for the best, you will forgive me if I do not completely agree,” Lizzy teased.

  “When will Mr. Darcy return here?” Jane said with forced cheerfulness.

  “In two days. He had business in London which required his personal attention.”

  “Then we have two days to celebrate his good fortune in acquiring so exemplary a bride.”

  ***

  Mr. Darcy returned at the earliest possible moment on the given day, and Elizabeth was delighted to discover he had not come alone. She had been watching for him, and felt a flare of delight watching his tall form exit the closed carriage, then turn back to offer his hand to Miss Darcy. She waited at the window for a moment, hoping to see a third figure emerge, but apparently it was just the two of them. Perhaps Mr. Bingley could not leave London on a day’s notice. She was glad she had not mentioned her hopes to Jane.

  The dizzying rush of pleasure she felt when he entered the room and their eyes met almost overrode her anxiety at coming face to face with Georgiana. Georgiana appeared paler than she had been at their last meeting, and there was a look of strain on her face. Elizabeth’s heart sank. They had been on such good terms during her visit to Netherfield, but then Elizabeth had been merely her brother’s friend, not the sister of Mrs. Wickham.

  For all Georgiana’s willingness to befriend her during their disgrace, the idea that her brother would be marrying into a family that included the Wickhams could not but be distasteful and perhaps mortifying to her.

  Elizabeth, sensible of her position as the girl’s elder, smiled and reached out both hands. “Miss Darcy, it is delightful to see you again.”

  “The pleasure is mine,” Georgiana said in a quiet voice. “May I express my delight that you will soon be my sister?”

  “It cannot possibly exceed my own,” Elizabeth assured her, but then there was no time for further individual conversation as Mrs. Bennet, Kitty and Mary converged on Georgiana, loudly exclaiming over her fine travelling dress.

  Elizabeth took the opportunity to lock gazes with Mr. Darcy. She had not realized her heart would pound so at the mere sight of him, and such was her delight at his arrival that it was a moment before she realized his slight smile did not quite reach his eyes. She sidled closer to him and said, “I hope your journey was not overly taxing.”

  “Not at all.”

  She lowered her voice so no one else could hear. “Was your business in London successful?”

  “No, it was not.” His interest seemed engaged by his sister’s interactions with the Bennets.

  “I am sorry to hear that.” Elizabeth was growing puzzled. Mr. Darcy seemed a different man from the ardent lover of two days earlier. He did not even seem particularly pleased to see her. Had his aunt managed to convince him he had made a mistake? But no, he would hardly have brought his sister if he wished to break off the engagement. Could he feel it had been a mistake, but felt honour bound to keep his word to her?

  The very thought made her stomach clench, but she was not prepared to suffer in silence. If something were the matter, she would rather know it at once. “Mr. Darcy, perhaps you would like to see our little wilderness?”

  His brows drew together. “Will your father allow it?”

  “I do not see him here; do you?”

  “But…”

  She raised an arch eyebrow with a teasing smile. “Sir, are you avoiding my company?”

  To her immense relief, his expression lightened. “Never, my dearest. Nothing could give me greater pleasure.” He held out his arm to her.

  At first it was enough merely to take his arm and walk by his side in silence as they left the house. There was nothing unusual about that; he had always been a man of few words. When they passed the artfully ruined stone wall that marked the entrance to the wilderness, he asked, “Will your father not be angered if he discovers you are here with me?”

  She shrugged, untroubled by the prospect. “No doubt, but that will pass, and I need to be with you.”

  He halted unexpectedly. Taking both her hands in his, he pressed them to his lips. “Dearest Elizabeth, you cannot imagine how sweet those words sound upon your tongue.”

  For a moment she did not understand, then she realized how her words must have sounded, and flushed with embarrassment. “In that case, I shall strive to say them more often. But in truth, I was concerned about you. You were so quiet and distant earlier.”

  With a deep sigh, he dropped her hands. Her heart sank to see the expression on his face. Perhaps he was indeed happy to have her company, but he might have rea
lized that marriage went far beyond that.

  Finally he said, “It has been a difficult few days, and I have dreaded what I must tell you.”

  “You regret proposing to me.” Elizabeth’s mouth was dry.

  He avoided her eyes. “That is perhaps not the best way to put it.”

  She felt as if she were a long distance away, buried in a cave somewhere. Distantly she said, “You need not fear that I will force you into a marriage you no longer desire. If you wish for freedom, it is yours.”

  He turned to her and abruptly gripped her arms, hard enough that she had to hide a wince. “Elizabeth, do not say such a thing! Of course I wish to marry you. I have always wished to marry you. Nothing has changed.”

  Her pain began to edge into anger. “You cannot have it both ways, sir. If you truly wished to marry me, you would not regret proposing to me. I had not realized you would be so easily influenced by the opinions of others.”

  “By the opinions of others? What on earth do you mean?”

  She raised her chin in the air. “I assume that your family has convinced you that our engagement is a degradation, as you once thought it would be.”

  “No! That is not the case.” He seemed to suddenly realize that his hands were imprisoning her, and he relaxed his grip carefully. “It does not matter to me what they think. While I have some regrets, my wishes have not altered in any way. I regret that you agreed to marry me under false pretenses, and now I have trapped you by announcing our engagement. My regrets are for you, not about you.”

  “False pretenses? What do you mean?”

  “I did not know it at the time, but the very day that you did me the honour of agreeing to marry me, Bingley was making an offer of his own, which was in turn accepted. He is an engaged man. It is too late for him to return to your sister.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes, struggling to control her breathing. “I am sorry to hear it. I had hoped he and Jane would find happiness. But that was not why I agreed to marry you, as I said at the time. Perhaps you missed that part.”

  “I know you are very kind-hearted, and that given the choice, you would put a good face on your acceptance even if it was only for the sake of your sister.”

  “You have seen enough of my frankness to know better!” she teased, though in her heart she admitted it was likely true that she would have said something similar even if she did not mean it. But she had meant it.

  “You persist in doubting my regard for you?”

  “It seems I must, though it is not out of a lack of faith in you, but from the certainty of knowing I have not pleased you in the past.”

  “Perhaps that was once the case, but my feelings are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy.

  Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  “I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, that the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but, what is much better, of innocence.”

  “But surely you must have known the truth of my sentiments when….”

  “When?”

  “What we did… in the library.” They had reached the narrow wooden bridge that crossed the brook, and she looked down at it as if it might suddenly open into a yawning chasm.

  “I see,” he said quietly. “I should no doubt apologize for my loss of control then.”

  “Please do not! In case you did not notice, I made no complaint about it. Boldly she stroked the sleeve of his coat, the strength of his arm apparent even through the fine fabric. “Although I am reminded that I have one other question regarding your proposal.”

  “And that would be?” He sounded cautious.

  “Whether you are firmly committed to the idea of keeping your demands of me to a minimum. I should find it very disappointing if you did.” She gave him an arch smile.

  His eyes flared, and he made a visible attempt to control himself. Just when Elizabeth thought she had perhaps gone too far, he said in a voice so level he might have been making a response in church, “You say the most astonishing things, Miss Bennet.”

  She raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Shall I stop? I was of the impression that you enjoyed my impertinence.”

  “You would be wise not to trust too far the restraint of a man violently in love! Otherwise you might find yourself facing a repeat of the scene in the library.” His slight smile softened his words.

  Elizabeth’s spirits soared. “Your warning has been noted, but as I have told you on a previous occasion, sir, my courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.”

  “Then I shall ask in return, how soon do you wish to be married? Very soon indeed?”

  She laughed. “Very well, sir, I shall refrain from tormenting you.”

  His reply was low. “Elizabeth, you have tormented me almost since the first time we met. By day, by night, awake, asleep - it does not matter, you haunt me.”

  “Yet you have kept your silence until now, which is why I wonder whether you have regrets.”

  His look turned serious. “My only regret is that we did not reach this understanding long ago. At your sister’s wedding, I felt almost as if it were our wedding day, as I had imagined it so often. My tongue may have been silent, but in my heart I was repeating those same vows to you. I was already bound to you, regardless of whether you cared for me or not.”

  “But that day you spoke to me so coldly when you told me you did not want my thanks! I was sure you wanted nothing more to do with me.”

  “Never that! But after imagining binding our souls together in eternity, it was bitter to be given your gratitude. I wanted your love, till death us do part, not thanks in the name of your family for doing nothing more than my duty.”

  “Nothing more than your duty? You have a very broad idea of duty, then! I suppose I had nothing to do with your actions then?”

  “That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you.”

  His words produced a flood of tenderness in Elizabeth. Impulsively she stood on her toes and kissed him.

  His look of astonished delight was all the reward she could desire.

  “If that is how you will thank me, I will devote my life to earning your gratitude,” he said in a voice that was slightly unsteady.

  Her eyes danced. “How fortunate for you, then, that I am happy to do it!”

  Darcy’s eyes darkened. He wondered if she had any idea of how much she tempted him. Her kiss had only whetted his barely controlled desire for her, and he did not wish to frighten her. “Elizabeth, may I kiss you?”

  She turned a limpid gaze on him. “Do you intend always to ask my permission?”

  He whispered her name, and as if by instinct she slid her arms around his neck. He caught her to him, astonished by the sensation of her light, pleasing body pressed against his own. Every inch of him that touched her seemed to be reborn in fire, and his need for her flared uncontrollably. Still he struggled to contain himself, nibbling gently at her tender, innocent lips, teaching her the art of kissing. He could feel her process of discovery and the unmistakable moment when her flirtation turned into passion. His hands of their own volition slid down to the curves of her hip and pressed her tightly against him, her yielding softness meeting his aching need.

  She moaned softly as his lips began to travel down her neck, desiring to taste as much of her as she would allow. She gave a little gasp when he reached the base of her neck, arching herself to give him better access.

  He had always seen Elizabeth as a woman of passion, so her awakening did not so much surprise him as overpower him like a tidal wave. His lips sought to gain ever closer access to her neckline and the points he desired almost unbearably, and she did not deny hi
m. But reason fought through the fog of desire that encompassed him, and he managed to pull himself away from temptation.

  She laughed unsteadily. “I fear I have quite disarranged your cravat.”

  Darcy’s cravat was the least of his worries. “Elizabeth, you must always feel free to stop me. You intoxicate me beyond the point of reason.”

  And now she was giving him that arch smile that he always ached to kiss. Self-denial suddenly lost its last shred of appeal, and he drew her back to him, gently opening her lips to him and finally tasting the delights he had longed for. Her sweetness was the finest of wines, yet full of joy. Drunk on it, he let his hand steal to the curve of her breast. The softness there fitted his hand as if made for it.

  She drew in a sharp breath and he could feel her withdrawal. He rested his forehead against hers. “I should take you back to the house while I can still call myself a gentleman,” he said.