by Heather Moll
“Might I rouse you from your daydream to enquire what makes you laugh?”
Elizabeth gave a little start of surprise and looked down the lane to see her beloved standing not twenty yards away.
“I was in a reverie of fond reflection. I find that my love for solitary walks has changed its purpose. I once sought the privacy for contemplation, but I admit now that my real purpose was to seek you out.”
He drew closer and, after glancing up and down the tree-lined lane, took her hand and pulled her from the path. The sound of their boots crunching against sticks and leaves rang loud in her ears. Before she could ask him where he was leading her, Fitzwilliam stepped around a large oak tree, tugged her in front of him, and pressed his lips against hers in a searing kiss. Elizabeth pushed his hat from his head, wrapped her arms around his neck, and clung to him with a force she did not know she possessed.
Elizabeth was struck by the desire she felt for him; her breasts were crushed against his solid chest, and she did not protest later when she finally felt his hands on them. She pressed closer against him, her hips rushing forward as a low moan escaped her mouth. She could barely breathe due to the force of his attentions—lost to everything but him.
The bark of the tree pressed into her back as Fitzwilliam pushed closer, and she reveled in the pleasure of his weight against her. His teeth scraped her skin as he kissed along her jaw and neck, his hand clutching at the skirt of her gown near her hip. His voice was hoarse and near trembling with passion. “Elizabeth!”
Her breathless reply was lost, however, when a crack in the woods and a rustling of leaves startled them away from one another. Her lips felt swollen and burned, and she had to lean against the oak because she doubted her legs could hold her. Her heart still pounded with desire, but they were only a few yards away from the lane, and one large tree was not enough to conceal them from sight. Fitzwilliam turned away and ran his hand through his hair.
Elizabeth felt for him as he tried to keep his emotions and desire under good regulation. She watched him wage his own private battle as he calmed, and she had to admit a thrill of excitement at knowing she was the one person that could overpower the reason of Fitzwilliam Darcy. His desire outpaced his control, but it would do him no good, she decided, to believe that he alone was to blame. She bent to retrieve his hat and offered it to him, interrupting his silent self-condemnation.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth?” He avoided her eye when he shook his head as if scarcely believing he had found himself in such a position. “Not a month ago, I would not kiss you on an open road, and now you would be entirely justified in saying I have behaved ungentlemanly.”
“There is nothing you could do to lose my esteem.” He took his hat and followed her back to the lane. “You know that I love you,” she added, “and I have missed you dreadfully. You take too much upon yourself. What kind of a helpmate would I be if I did not shoulder some of the blame for our shameless ways?” She grinned, and Fitzwilliam offered a wan smile. “We are not the first engaged persons to forget themselves. Perhaps that is why courting couples are kept to parlors under the watchful eye of chaperones. You and I tend to have more successful conversations outside and in less conventional places.”
“Today I did not have the strength of mind to restrict our interactions to simply conversing. It would not do for such actions to gain public notice.”
“I think we are merely suffering from a natural progression of intimacy that has outstripped the length of our engagement.”
“Elizabeth.” She stopped to look at him. He looked as if he eagerly wished to speak, but could not find the words. He stepped forward and took her hand. “You have made me very happy.”
She returned his gaze with equal strength of feeling. “We shall have to part here,” she said, keeping a light tone, “unless you give me the pleasure of your company and walk me home.”
“That I will—with all my heart. I have some things to tell you. There, take my arm. I do not feel comfortable if I have not you here beside me.”
“I presume that Bingley’s sisters do not intend to call on Jane immediately? I imagine Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst would not wish to bestow too prompt a greeting on one so beneath them.”
He confirmed this accurate sketch of Bingley’s sisters and his friend’s docile nature. Whereas Fitzwilliam had walked out to see his intended at the earliest possible hour the morning after his arrival, Bingley deferred to his sisters and would wait until Monday for a formal call. Fitzwilliam then told her that Lydia had been found with Mrs. Younge, was restored to her uncle’s home and, since Wickham had unsurprisingly not returned, would be brought to Longbourn with the Gardiners.
“I do not doubt that bribery and corruption were employed to gain Mrs. Younge’s compliance.” Given the rigid set of his jaw, she knew the less said of the matter, the better. “I am impressed you were able to reason with Lydia. She becomes defiant with any attempt to check her behavior.”
“Bingley was kinder and more patient than I could have been. He had to convince her that you and Jane preferred to marry in the same ceremony later this summer, and as such, Lydia could be the first to marry.”
“Let us hope Lydia’s spirits will be tempered when she has to accept that Wickham had no intention of marrying her. I would love to share my wedding day with Jane, but part of me wonders whether, perhaps for both our sakes, we ought to end this prolonged engagement and marry sooner. I saw my father looking over the settlement several days ago. Given what I know of his habits, I can assume—in several more days—he might put pen to paper and sign it.” Elizabeth could not keep the sting of contempt from her voice.
“We may as well have all of our unpleasant conversations regarding our relations now and be done with it. I had the displeasure of receiving a letter from Lady Catherine. I had not the opportunity to speak of it to you before.”
Seeking to save him the trouble of recounting what would likely cause pain to them both, she asked wryly, “We shall not be naming Pemberley’s heir after the Fitzwilliams?”
He barked a mirthless laugh. “No, that is not likely.”
“Have you heard from your other relations regarding our marriage?”
“Georgiana is delighted, of course, as I told you. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who I believe long suspected my regard for you, writes that he does not know to what trickery I resorted to induce you to accept me, but he wishes us joy.”
“Mrs. Gardiner does the same as she likely told you when you arrived with Lydia. She begged to see us at Pemberley after we marry. I told her she must visit us soon, and we should go round the park every day in a low phaeton with a nice little pair of ponies. I hope you do not object.”
“Not at all.” Elizabeth’s home came into view. “You will enjoy Pemberley; the grounds are delightful. The park is ten miles round and there are many beautiful walks. I think you will pleasure in exploring its windings.”
“I hope you will take prodigious care to show me every sheltered copse, shielded dale, and private path you own.” She winked and satisfied herself with the faint blush on his face as he understood her meaning. Not ready to join the others, they retired to the gravel walk where the power of conversation and a few stolen kisses would make the present hour together a blessing.
***
“You know what I expect from you both today!”
As Darcy entered the breakfast room Monday morning, he realized too late that he had interrupted a heated family discussion. Miss Bingley glowered at her brother who looked at her sternly. Mrs. Hurst was staring down at her bracelets, her cheeks pink. Miss Bingley had spent the two days since they arrived at Netherfield refusing to speak to Darcy any more than necessary. As resentful as she was over Darcy’s engagement, her avoidance had been a refreshing change from her constant, simpering attentions.
“Caroline, now that Darcy has joined
us, was there not something you desired to say to him?”
“What do you mean?” Miss Bingley took an unusual interest in her teacup. However, under the pressure of her brother’s stare, she banged down her cup and looked at Darcy. With outward calm, he set aside his newspaper and braced himself for her insincerity.
“Mr. Darcy, allow me to wish you joy,” she said in a dull voice. He thanked her and returned to his paper.
“Darcy, Caroline and Louisa would like to call at Longbourn with us. They both know how important their call is for Jane. It will demonstrate their eagerness to improve their relationship with my future wife.”
Darcy was pleased to see that, since Lydia’s scandalous departure from Brighton was kept quiet, Bingley was inclined to see Jane treated properly by his sisters.
“Elizabeth says the Gardiners are arriving today with Lydia. I am sure Mrs. Bennet would be pleased to have you join their family gathering.” Darcy waited to gauge the sisters’ response. Mrs. Hurst fiddled with her bangles and nodded while Miss Bingley’s attempts to feign cheerfulness made her look sullen.
***
On reaching the house, the Netherfield party was shown through the hall into the drawing room. Jane’s reception of Bingley’s sisters was more welcoming than they deserved. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley noticed the others only by a curtsey, and on their being seated, a pause—awkward as such pauses must always be—succeeded for a few moments. Under Bingley’s persistent gaze, Miss Bingley exerted herself to speak to Jane.
Mrs. Bennet spoke to Mrs. Philips on how pleased she was soon to have two daughters well married, and Darcy silently willed her to speak less on the material advantages he and Bingley could provide. Elizabeth offered the ladies tea, but although Mrs. Hurst accepted, Miss Bingley suffered at having to acknowledge her and barely shook her head to decline. As he sat near Elizabeth, who was regaling him with stories of her young Gardiner cousins, Darcy felt Miss Bingley’s cold gaze.
The gathering had broken into smaller private conversations when Miss Bingley came to where Darcy was seated with Elizabeth and Kitty. With an expression of civil disdain, Miss Bingley thus accosted his betrothed. “Miss Eliza, I understand you will not long bear the name of Bennet.” Darcy noted that, while Miss Bingley had recognized their upcoming nuptials, she had not congratulated her. “I fear your new elevated station may present a great challenge. Let me recommend to you, as a friend, that you conduct yourself with fewer of your typical country manners after you marry.”
Darcy was about to lecture her, but Elizabeth stopped him with a touch. “My dear Miss Bingley, since we are, as you say, friends, allow me to tell you how I dislike being called ‘Eliza.’ Only Mrs. Collins addresses me as such, and I permit her out of deference to our long-standing acquaintance. I am sure you understand.” Elizabeth smiled, but Darcy saw it did not reach her eyes.
“Very well.” Miss Bingley looked annoyed that her barb had not had its desired effect.
“Although we ought not to concern ourselves with that since soon you will address me as Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth stared hard into Miss Bingley’s face. Her utterance made Miss Bingley turn red, and she choked back a reply and returned to sit by Mrs. Hurst. Elizabeth never let her countenance falter, but after Miss Bingley had turned away, Darcy felt some of the tension leave her. Through Bingley, he would ensure Miss Bingley paid off every arrear of civility to Elizabeth, or else she would lose the right to visit Pemberley.
“I, too, am eager to call you ‘Mrs. Darcy,’” he told her. “Although sharing our wedding day with Bingley and Jane is a pleasant prospect, I regret waiting any longer to hear you addressed as such. Have I told you today how much I admire you?”
“I think not.” She pretended to thoughtfully consider the matter. “You have been remiss in showering me with affection today, and were we in a more private setting, I would demand recompense.” She smiled playfully as she stroked the back of his hand with her finger.
A servant entered to tell Mrs. Bennet her brother’s carriage was arriving. Lydia’s imminent return forced everyone acquainted with the facts to consider again the whole of the affair. For such a large gathering, the room became eerily quiet. Darcy was grateful that the sad business had been so well hushed up, and he hoped never to speak of it again. Bingley nervously laughed to himself and was then silent while Jane sat quietly as she looked to the door. Even Mrs. Bennet’s fluttering seemed restrained as the nerve-racking moment approached. Darcy noticed that Mr. Bennet had left the library to join his family.
Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were shown in with their children bursting with energy after being confined for so long to the carriage. For several moments, the party focused on the good humor and cheerfulness that only small children might provide. After the children were taken to the nursery, their collective eyes turned towards Lydia, who had hung back near the door. No one knew what to say to her, particularly in the presence of the Netherfield ladies and the servants who had come in to lay out a meal.
Someone from her family needed to welcome Lydia home. Mr. Bennet adhered most conscientiously to his newspaper, and Mrs. Bennet chatted nervously with her sister, both parents choosing to ignore the problem instead of addressing it. It was Jane who rose to welcome her youngest sister home after her nearly two-month absence. She demonstrated a sweetness and concern that, in Darcy’s mind, was truly angelic.
“Lydia, how glad I am to see you!” She took her sister’s hands in her own. “You must be famished from your carriage ride.” She showed Lydia the table of cold meats, fruit, and cakes.
Lydia, normally unguarded and spirited, refused a plate with a shake of her head. Darcy considered it a welcome surprise to see her altered and thought perhaps her near ruin had tempered her willful nature. He was about to lean towards Elizabeth to ask her opinion when he noticed the apprehension on Mrs. Gardiner’s face. On every occasion he had previously encountered Mrs. Gardiner, she appeared congenial and open, but Darcy discerned the lady was quite ill at ease.
“Do you notice how carefully my aunt observes Lydia?” Elizabeth discreetly asked him after Kitty had moved away to join her younger sister.
“Perhaps she is as surprised as I am to find her so subdued.”
“She is altered, but I do not think it is because she has learned to be ashamed of herself. I do not think Lydia is well.”
Darcy could not speak openly in the crowded room, but he observed Lydia’s actions more closely. Kitty showed her a bonnet she had recently trimmed up, but Lydia only looked on under half-lidded eyes. Her complexion was pallid, and she appeared fatigued, an odd state for a young lady who had spent the morning in a comfortable carriage.
Mrs. Bennet, finally ready to engage her wayward daughter in conversation, crossed the room to sit by Lydia. She embraced her and welcomed her with enthusiasm. Lydia smiled but now appeared nearly incapable of remaining upright in her chair.
“My dear Lydia!” Mrs. Bennet cried. “It is delightful to have you home. Had I been able to carry my point in going to Brighton with all my family…well, enough on that. I have not seen you for two months! I am so pleased to have my dear girl home at last! You must tell me of the shopping and sightseeing you had in Brighton.”
“Lord, how tired I am!” Lydia gave a violent yawn.
“You must be hungry, my dear. Here, let Hill fix you a plate, and you will soon be in good humor.”
Before the plate could be placed before her, Lydia shook her head and paled. Darcy was shocked when she jumped from her chair and actually ran from the room. Mrs. Gardiner, her face pinched with worry, rose and followed her while Mrs. Bennet shrilly asked what the matter was.
“Allow me to tend to Lydia. You do not want to leave your guests.” Mrs. Gardiner was firm as she attempted to move past her.
“But whatever is the matter with the girl?” she screeched, her handkerchi
ef waving.
“She is merely indisposed, I am sure.” Mrs. Gardiner gave a look towards the Netherfield ladies, whose attentions was captured by these strange goings-on. “Why do you not invite the young people to walk out? It is a lovely day.” She then left the room. Mrs. Bennet would not be dissuaded from knowing all and followed close on her heels. The door was wide open, and the assembled party could hear Lydia grumbling in discomfort just outside.
“Lydia!” Her mother’s voice carried. “What is the meaning of this? Why did you run from the room? It is unladylike.”
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who met his eye and, he was certain, agreed with him on the irony. Jane leant towards Miss Bingley and, in a louder voice than before, attempted to draw her into conversation. The voices in the hall, however, carried into the room.
“She is tolerably well.” Mrs. Gardiner’s muted tone did not disguise her waning patience. “You ought to see to your guests. We can discuss this later.”
“You will not discourage me from tending to my own child! Lydia, are you unwell? I must send for Mr. Jones! Hill! Where are my smelling salts?”
“That is not necessary! She does not need an apothecary.”
“Do you know what is the matter with her? Should I send for a physician from town? Lydia? What ails you? Hill? Hill! I need you!”
“Now is not the time. Please, think of your company.”
“If something is the matter, her mother ought to know it at once. Lydia! Are you ill, my dear? I insist you answer me!”
“Lord! Stop shouting!” Lydia’s sullen voice entered the verbal melee. “My aunt Gardiner told me what ails me. I am not ill—I am with child!”
Chapter 19