‘Nothing to fear?’ Darcy’s voice was harsh, and he turned his head aside in impatience for a moment, then glared at her. ‘Did it not occur to you Wickham might be anywhere hereabouts now, seeking the payment that did not materialise?’
‘I know not what your speculations are about him. If you recall, I was asked to leave the room by my father.’
Darcy was too caught up in his angry relief to acknowledge this fact. ‘And what was your father thinking, letting you do this?’
‘Do not blame my father! He was asleep when I left home and I fully intended to return before he woke.’
‘Well that did not come to fruition, did it?’ Darcy tried to gain some control. ‘Look at the state of you.’ He waved a hand towards her wet and muddy garments. ‘It is a miracle you are unharmed.’
Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes wide, but his fears had pushed his imagination to the limit whilst searching for her, and to have her standing there, calmly defending her right to walk out alone was infuriating!
‘If I have inconvenienced you, sir, then I apologise.’ Elizabeth looked down at her drenched person before meeting his exasperated gaze again. ‘If you would be so kind as to point me in the direction of The Grange, then I will disturb your evening no more.’
Darcy stared at her in disbelief. ‘How can you speak so? Do you think I am going to let you walk off into the woods in the dark?’
He turned on his heel and walked several paces away, breathing heavily. What was he going to do with her? She seemed to have no understanding of what she had done to him!
‘I am cold, and I am wet. If you will not aid me, sir, then I will find my own way home.’
Darcy looked back only to see Elizabeth beginning to make her way down to the path, but before she had gone two paces, he had reached her and swung her around.
Startled, she looked up at him, lips slightly parted as if about to protest, but it was the tears shimmering on her lashes that were his undoing, and with a groan of submission he pulled her against him and kissed her fiercely.
Releasing her, he stepped back, breathing heavily, waiting for a slap across his cheek, but Elizabeth simply stared at him. Then—and he was uncertain who moved first—suddenly, they were in each other’s arms and he was kissing her again with all the pent-up passion he had suppressed for so long, oblivious to the rain as drops permeated through the leaves above.
His senses starting to swim, Darcy eased the pressure on her soft mouth, but could not refrain from kissing her damp cheeks and her closed eyelids, all the time murmuring endearments. A quiet moan escaped from Elizabeth’s lips and Darcy took possession of them again before raising his head to stare down at her.
Elizabeth leaned back in his arms for a moment, her eyes searching his face; then, she reached out to move a lock of wet hair from his forehead, but he stayed her hand, suddenly sure of his purpose.
‘Marry me, Elizabeth.’ Darcy’s voice was hoarse with feeling. ‘Say you will take me, for all my ills. I cannot bear to think of a life without you.'
Chapter Seventy-Five
Elizabeth’s eyes widened, and Darcy shook his head at his own ineptitude as he released his hold upon her.
‘I cannot make pretty speeches, Elizabeth. Give me a matter of business, and I can be as articulate as any other.’ He ran a hand through his damp hair, leaving it in tousled disarray, then leaned forward to place a firm kiss upon her mouth. ‘But when you are before me, I am bereft of words. All I can do is let my heart speak to yours, and hope for it to be heard.’
A smile touched Elizabeth’s lips. ‘You are waxing rather lyrical for one who professes a lack of proficiency, sir.’ He could, however, detect anxiety in her eyes. ‘You comprehend the depth of my affection for you.’ She frowned. ‘At least, I hope you do. I have done my best to show how altered my feelings are from... before. My heart has, quite irrevocably, become yours.’
She hesitated and, hope soaring in Darcy’s breast, he placed a gentle finger against her mouth.
‘If there is a ‘but’ coming, Elizabeth, do not waste your breath. I will counter every possible argument you raise.’
‘But my family, Mr Darcy, have been rendered even more ridiculous than before.’
‘We all have absurdity in our kin. You have met my Aunt Catherine, and there are few more ridiculous than she.’
Elizabeth sighed. ‘She does not threaten the Darcy name with her own family’s scandal, sir!’
Darcy took possession of one of her hands. ‘Elizabeth, for all I care, your youngest sister can run off and join a travelling circus; your father can own as many secrets as he wishes. When will you realise your happiness is all I care about?’ He sighed. ‘I tried to forget you; I thought I had, but my pretence began to fail from the first sight of you. You have been here.’ He placed a hand over his heart. ‘For so long now, I cannot even remember where it all began.’
He took her other hand and drew her back towards him, leaning down to kiss her lingeringly, before drawing back. ‘Marry me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. My life has no meaning without you by my side.’
Elizabeth’s eyes scanned his face for a moment; then, she reached up to place her hands upon his shoulders and pressed her lips to his for a second.
Darcy smiled faintly. ‘Was that your agreement?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You will accept my hand, be my wife?’
‘Yes, sir; gladly.'
Relief and happiness swept through Darcy, and he bent his head and kissed Elizabeth unhurriedly, aware of how soft her lips were, how she tasted, how she responded to his touch. He slowly drew the kiss to a close, his hands having come to rest upon her waist, and it was impossible not to realise just how wet her clothing was.
‘Much as I do not wish to be parted from you,’ he said softly, ‘We must reach the shelter of Pemberley. You have been too long exposed to the elements, and enjoyable as our present situation is, I cannot condone prolonging it.’
Elizabeth smiled ruefully as he released her. ‘It is a strange thing, Mr Darcy, but I no longer feel cold.’
He raised a brow. ‘Then why are you shivering?’
‘Am I shivering, sir? I had not noticed.’
Darcy laughed, then quickly sobered. ‘I would not have you fall ill.’ He turned back to pull the torch from the ground. ‘Come.’
He held out his other hand and she took it as he made his way down the bank, guiding her with him, and when they reached Bedivere, he raised the torch aloft. It smote him to his core to see more fully her condition. Not only was she wet through and shivering badly, her dress was streaked with dirt and torn about the hemline. Raindrops lingered in her dark hair and her skin appeared ashen in the flickering light of the flame.
He took her sodden shawl from her unresisting grasp and balled it up before opening the leather pack attached to his saddle.
‘Here, take this,’ Darcy pulled out a dry shawl pressed upon him by Mrs Reynolds, replacing it with the wet one, then held it out towards Elizabeth, who wrapped it around her shoulders.
‘We must get you to shelter and a message to your father.’
Elizabeth gasped. ‘Mr Darcy, my father will be beside himself! I am so worried about him.’
‘A message can be sent once we have reached Pemberley.’
Desperate now to hasten Elizabeth to shelter, and castigating himself for his selfishness in keeping her so long in the rain, Darcy gestured to his patient mount. ‘Bedivere will aid us.’
Elizabeth viewed the horse warily.
‘He is a handsome beast, sir, but significantly more hands than I am used to riding.’
‘I will be with you; you will be quite safe.’
Untethering Bedivere, Darcy looked about, then led him over to a fallen trunk of substantial girth, which would serve well as a mounting block.
‘It is not a lady’s saddle, sir. I do not see how I am to ride.’
‘You will have to hitch your skirts a little. It is too far to walk in your present state and
these conditions.’
Elizabeth eyed Bedivere uneasily, and ramming the torch back into the ground, Darcy stooped and swept her up into his arms. She let out a small gasp as he did so, but then stayed still as he stepped up onto the log and swung her round to sit in the saddle. He let her adjust her skirts as best she could, though there was no avoiding an expanse of mud-spattered, stocking-clad leg being exposed.
Then, Darcy picked up the torch once more and hauled himself up behind her, urging Bedivere forward slowly as they made their way along the woodland path.
Despite the discomfort of his wet clothes and the inclement weather, Darcy almost wished their journey might never end, but as it was, they soon emerged from the undergrowth, and he took the bridle path to the right, urging his mount into a canter now they were free of the overhanging branches and on a more level standing.
Within ten minutes, they were entering the house’s grounds, only from the opposite side to the stables, and he slowed Bedivere to a walk as they traversed the path dissecting the lawns.
‘I had lost my bearings more than I imagined.’ Elizabeth looked around warily. ‘I hope no one will see us, sir.’
He followed the line of her vision over towards where light spilled brightly from inside the house across the lawns. ‘I suspect they have all returned to the drawing room.’ He guided his mount along the path now towards the gate in the wall through which he had passed some time ago.
‘And do they know—your guests? Of your having to search for me?’
‘Everyone is most concerned about you.’
Elizabeth laughed. ‘Even Mr Latimer?’
Darcy recalled the scene earlier. ‘I believe he expressed the opinion as I left that he supposed you would be rather... wet.’
‘He was not wrong!’
‘Both Mrs and Miss Latimer were more forthcoming with offers to assist. As for the twins, they wished to mount their own search. In their brother’s absence, I am hoping Mrs Annesley and Georgiana were able to contain them in their enthusiasm to come to your aid. You are quite the favourite with them.’
‘I shall miss them. They are dear girls.’
‘Indeed.’
They had reached the gate now, and Darcy urged Bedivere through it and up onto the driveway leading to the stables, soon riding under the archway and into the courtyard, where two young lads came running towards them.
Darcy dismounted as one of them took the reins, and he lifted Elizabeth quickly from her perch and turned to the groom who had followed the stable boys.
‘Please send someone to find the others directly; tell them Miss Bennet has been found safe and well.’
‘Yes, sir!’
‘Oh, and Ramsbottom?’
The young man looked back over his shoulder. ‘Would you make it a priority for someone to call at The Grange and reassure them the lady is safe and will remain at Pemberley overnight?’
‘Yes indeed, sir!’
Darcy took a blanket from a nearby stall as the groom hurried outside, calling for assistance. ‘Come, let me have your coat.’
Elizabeth eyed him warily. ‘I am cold to my bones, sir. Would you rob me of my only comfort?’
He shook his head. ‘It does you no favour, Elizabeth; it is wet through, as are you.’
She stared down at her bedraggled clothing, then removed the shawl and attempted to release the buttons of her Spencer, but the fastenings were small and her fingers were shaking.
‘Here, let me.’ Darcy stepped forward.
Having undone the buttons, he helped her from it and quickly wrapped the blanket around her, pulling the edges together.
She was flushed with colour now, and the urge to reach out and touch her face was almost irresistible, but just then, a clattering of hooves heralded the return of his cousin.
‘Miss Bennet!’ The colonel gave a sweeping bow from his saddle, a wide smile on his face. ‘I was mightily relieved to pass a groom who said you were safely restored to Pemberley. Well found, Darcy.’ He gestured towards the house. ‘Well, come on, man. Do not leave the lady standing around in this chill wind. I will go in search of Bingley.’
Needing no further bidding, Darcy placed a hand under Elizabeth’s arm and steered her back towards the gate into the gardens. Once inside the house, he sent a footman for his housekeeper and within seconds Mrs Reynolds came bustling through the doorway into the boot room.
‘There, there, Miss Bennet. You poor thing; you must be worn out and chilled to the bone. Come, I shall arrange a warm bath for you, some dry clothes and a welcoming hearth. Mrs Marchant has already prepared a nourishing broth in case of need.’
She began to lead Elizabeth towards the door, then stopped. ‘And you too, Master Fitzwilliam. Hot water will be sent up directly and no doubt Thornton is already awaiting you.’
Chapter Seventy-Six
Clean and dry once more, and sporting a gown of Georgiana’s—simple but elegant and a reasonable fit other than its length—Elizabeth sat by the fire in that lady’s sitting room awaiting her return. Where Mr Darcy was she knew not but she was anxious to be assured news of her being found had reached her father.
Beyond that, she hardly dared think. What had happened between them both in the wood still had not sunk in properly, though she felt her own happiness, but just then, a light tap came on the door as it was opened, and the gentleman himself came into the room. He smiled when he saw her, then looked around.
‘I thought Georgiana was with you.’
Elizabeth got to her feet, her skirts pooling on the floor. ‘She went to her room for a book she wished to lend me.’ She could feel warmth in her cheeks, knew they would be colouring as, unable to help herself, she was suddenly awash with the memory of being held in the gentleman’s arms and thoroughly kissed.
Leaving the door open, Mr Darcy walked over to stand before her. ‘You are not feeling unwell? You are flushed; I think it would be best if you took a little wine and went to your bed.’
Elizabeth summoned her composure, shook her head. ‘Dear sir – I am not ill; I was wet, and I was cold, but now I am warm and dry, nothing ails me. Truly, I am well.’
He looked as though he did not believe her, but nothing was said as a maid chose that moment to enter the room.
'Excuse me, sir. Mrs Reynolds asked me to bring a tray up for Miss Bennet.'
Standing under Mr Darcy's warm gaze as the tray was set beside her chair was not helping Elizabeth to push away thoughts of all that had occurred between them, and she turned and walked over to the window, freeing the latch and pushing it open. The cool air brushed her cheeks, and drawing in a steadying breath, she turned to face him as the maid left the room. Then, her gaze narrowed.
‘Do I amuse you, sir?’ Mr Darcy attempted to conceal a smile, and she raised her chin. ‘I am merely too warm and wished for some air.’
‘Would it aid you if I remained over by the door, until my sister returns?’ His voice was amused, and Elizabeth drew in a breath as he held her gaze. Why did she suddenly feel so vulnerable?
‘No—not at all, sir.’
He lowered his voice. ‘Barring your father’s consent, we are engaged, Elizabeth.’ Then, he smiled. ‘But you do not wish me to talk of it just now. Speaking of your father, his mind has been put at rest. He knows of your safe return.'
'Thank you.'
He glanced at the clock on the mantel. ‘I must attend to my guests for the remainder of the evening. Fitzwilliam is presently concocting some excuse or other for our absence on the morrow, and I must add my support to give it credence.’
‘And what time do you go to The Grange?’
‘We aim to be inside the house before dawn breaks, to minimise any chance of Wickham seeing us arrive. We want him to call upon your father thinking he is unsupported.’
Elizabeth left her position by the window and walked over to where he stood. ‘I must come with you.’
‘No, Elizabeth. You will stay here until we return.’
‘But.
..’
Mr Darcy shook his head, reached out a hand to touch her cheek. ‘It will be one less person for me to worry about if I know you are safely at Pemberley.’
‘What if he does not come?’
‘If he does not, then we will have to seek him out.’
He glanced over his shoulder, then back to Elizabeth. ‘I will leave you now; my sister is approaching.’ He bowed, then smiled at her. ‘I trust you will sleep well.’
~o0o~
Barely an hour later, Elizabeth returned to the chamber she had recently occupied, wishing for nothing more than the comfort of her bed. Georgiana’s kind and undemanding presence had been a blessing with the present disorder of her thoughts, and Elizabeth had been thankful there was no obligation on her to join the company downstairs.
Looking around the familiar room, Elizabeth sighed with relief. The bed looked welcoming, a warm fire crackled in the grate, and thick drapes covering the windows contributed to the feeling of her being in a safe haven. It had seemed strange to not be part of the ritual of life at Pemberley. How easily she had fallen into its embrace, and how she longed for her return.
Walking over to the mirror, Elizabeth studied her reflection. Her cheeks were pale against the rich fabric of her borrowed gown; her hair hung about her shoulders—dry now, but untamed—and she held her own gaze for a moment, remembering the delicious moments held in Mr Darcy’s embrace. She was engaged to be married—and to such a man!
Raising a hand, she touched two fingers to her lips. Oft had she wondered how a kiss might feel. She had come close to comprehending, yet the lightness of touch bestowed upon her cheek by Mr Darcy had not prepared her for the feelings stirred by being held close and kissed so thoroughly! Elizabeth watched with interest as her skin filled with colour at the memory, then turned away. It was time she prepared for bed.
Soon, she was curled up under the covers, but despite her exhaustion and the familiar comfort of the bed, she slept badly. Though she was physically warm again, a chill would persist in stealing through her bones whenever she thought of what the coming day may bring. Fear of what Wickham might do, how he might lash out at those attempting to thwart him, consumed her. Would his hatred for Mr Darcy push him too far? Was their chance of happiness about to be rudely snatched away from them?
A Quest for Mr Darcy Page 50