“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered. She had intended her quiet words to serve as an admonishment, but discovered too late she was far from equal to such a task. In confusion and taking a shaky breath, she carefully withdrew her hand and rose.
The place where Elizabeth had touched him felt tantalizingly warm, and the sensation soon spread throughout his entire body. Darcy did not want her to remove her hand, to retreat from him, to leave him alone again—not now, not ever. Boldly, as he rose from his chair, he reached out to her and gently caught her hand. To his immense relief, Elizabeth did not pull away but remained frozen where she stood, her breathing as rapid as his heartbeat. Darcy drew closer to her, and she turned her lovely face upon him. Her eyes were dark and expressive, and in their depths, he saw something that made his heart swell with hope—a flicker of passion that had never before been present.
Pushing aside all rational thought, he proceeded to close the distance between their bodies with agonizing slowness, their fingers intimately intertwined, just as he had so fervently wished their hearts and lives someday to be. “Elizabeth,” he breathed in an almost inaudible whisper, “dearest Elizabeth…”
She closed her eyes. The surprising intimacy of hearing him utter her Christian name sent an ache of desire pulsing through her body. Darcy tilted his face down to hers, and his lips caressed with exquisite tenderness her cheek, her jaw, and, daringly, the curve of her neck. Elizabeth found his gentle ministrations intoxicating, and though well knowing such actions were highly improper, she soon found herself wanting nothing more than for him to do it again.
Darcy was equally affected by the intimacy of their encounter. He did not dare trust himself any further and reluctantly began to release her. At the last moment, however, he could not resist the urge to reclaim her hands and draw close to her once more. As he lifted her fingers to his lips, she drew an unsteady breath.
“Please,” he whispered, his voice quivering with the strength of his emotions, “please tell me I am not dreaming this.” His words caught in his throat, and he fought against an overwhelming yearning to enfold her in his arms and bury his face in her hair.
Darcy felt her hands gingerly squeeze his, a gesture he wanted desperately to interpret as one of affection and encouragement. Elizabeth’s reaction to him was, by far, more than he had ever dared to dream possible just an hour earlier, and he craved more—so much more—but his fear of alarming her with the fervency of his affections was great. She had not spoken since he had kissed her, and he was desperate to know her mind and her heart. He ached to have her for his own, even more so now that the gentle pressure her fingers were exerting against his continued to increase, and he silently prayed she would not reject him outright. He knew not how he would ever survive a future without her.
To Elizabeth, it was truly beyond her, the vast array of feelings and emotions this one man was able to elicit from her body with only the slightest of touches. Until a week ago, she had never even suspected the proud and haughty master of Pemberley could ever be so humbled by the depth of his feelings about anything, most especially, feelings for her. Even though, she suddenly recalled, Jane and Charlotte had long since believed Darcy to be enamored of her.
She had been shocked by the sensations that coursed through her when his lips had first met her flesh, and she had reveled in the contentment and warmth she felt as he reached for her a second time. Though it was now apparent—to her—that Darcy seemed to know his desires quite well, Elizabeth still remained confused and doubtful as to her own.
There was most definitely an attraction between them; she could no longer deny that. But how much of it was purely physical, especially on her part? In a relatively short amount of time—for, to her, it seemed a very short amount of time—Darcy had somehow come to feel a great deal for her, and in light of her recent insights into his character, Elizabeth suddenly found herself wondering how difficult it might be to put all her ill-appointed past prejudices and misgivings aside, and get to know Darcy on a far more personal level, perhaps even intimately. Could she ever grow to love him? Did she even wish it? Her head was clouded with endless questions as her body traitorously cried out, Yes, to each and every one.
The possible answer to one particular question, however, disconcerted Elizabeth greatly, for if she were to allow herself to fall in love with a man like Darcy, could her heart survive the disappointment she suspected she would experience should he ever change his mind about his feelings for her? She needed to think coherently and knew she could not expect to do so while in such close proximity to him, especially while his large, gentle hands held fast to hers, his thumbs tracing circles upon the backs of them. While such a tender action felt heavenly and reassuring, it was not at all conducive to inspiring rational thought, and in an effort to put some distance between them, she gently tugged her fingers from his grasp and turned away.
Darcy felt the loss acutely and could not repress a moment of alarm when Elizabeth withdrew from him and walked quickly toward the fire. His throat felt so tight and his mouth so parched, he was unable to speak, and as he had on so many occasions, so many he could no longer count, he simply swallowed his pride and watched her, drinking in her beauty, his love for her, he suspected, brimming in his eyes. With hesitant steps, he came forward to stand just behind her.
In spite of the blazing fire, Elizabeth was wholly conscious of the heat radiating from Darcy’s body, and she felt a deep blush spread across her face, her torso, and all her most intimate places. Daringly, he placed his hand upon her shoulder. When she did not object, he slid unsteady fingers along the muslin of her gown until he reached her delicate skin. His heart beat wildly, and his breath caressed her cheek. There was no mistaking her gasp, but he had to strain to hear her voice over the pounding of blood rushing through his ears.
“What exactly is it you would like from me, Mr. Darcy?”
His voice was hoarse as he answered honestly, “Everything. Anything.”
Elizabeth turned to face him, and he recaptured her hands and looked at her with a penetrating gaze full of love and anguish.
“Do not turn me away,” he said. “I beg you. Say you will allow me the chance to love you as you deserve to be loved—as I have already loved you these many, many weeks—most ardently and with a passionate admiration and regard I can no longer conceal from the rest of the world.”
She stared at him in astonishment, but he had not done. “If you will consent to be my wife, I promise I will do everything within my power to make you happy. Marry me, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. Relieve my suffering, and grant me the opportunity to know what it is to be content every day of my life, for without you, I fear I shall never truly know.”
Elizabeth could not immediately speak, so startled and moved was she by his heartfelt and unexpected declaration. How am I to answer him? How can he expect me to accept a proposal of marriage when, until now, ours has been such a tenuous acquaintance? Certainly, even he must see such a union between us at this point would simply be nonsensical, to say the least? But, oh! To be held in those strong arms for the rest of my days and kissed by those lips each night! She took several deep breaths to calm herself.
When she finally spoke, it was quietly, but not without proper feeling. “You honor me, sir, with such a beautiful proposal, but I am afraid you will think me the greatest simpleton when I confess you have caught me quite off guard. I am moved, flattered, stunned that you have come to hold me in such a tender regard, and honored beyond words by your offer. As much as I do not wish to be the cause of any further distress to you, I am very sorry, Mr. Darcy, but I am afraid I cannot possibly give you the answer you wish to hear, at least not at this time. To be completely honest, sir, after spending so many weeks in your company, I am ashamed to say it has been only very recently I have begun to develop a better understanding of, and a true appreciation for, your admirable character, and it pains me to now say that, until a few days ago, I truly had no inkling of your deep regard for me.”
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“I see.” His disappointment was extreme, but Darcy would not be so easily dissuaded after such an honest speech—or such a positive physical response to his caresses. “Will you allow me, then, the honor of courting you, Miss Bennet?” he asked in a painfully quiet voice. “It will give you an opportunity to know me better. It will be a chance for both of us to know each other on a far more personal level. I promise I will not press for anything more in the near future, but please, if you cannot at this time agree to be my wife, I fervently hope you can, at least, find it within your heart to allow me this much.”
Elizabeth could not see any polite way to refuse such a reasonable request, especially given her difficulty in resisting the look of hopeful longing in his eyes as he gazed upon her. It obviously meant a great deal to him, and once she had begun to consider the idea, she had to agree that knowing him better could only serve to benefit them both. Finally, she gave him a small, almost shy smile and said, “I will agree to a courtship, Mr. Darcy. I do believe the prospect of knowing you better, sir, is one I shall welcome wholeheartedly.”
His smile was nothing short of radiant, and Elizabeth realized then she had never before seen him smile as he did at that moment, with his full self, as though illuminated from within. Though her answer to his proposal was not what he could have hoped for, the sheer pleasure her concession brought him was apparent, and it made her smile warmly in return. “Thank you,” he breathed as he gazed at her, his features full of rapture and love.
His expression was soon to grow serious, however. In the next moment, before either of them could possibly know what they were about, Elizabeth found Darcy leaning in to brush her lips so tenderly with his. She could not have prevented the shiver of pleasure she received even had she tried. Placing her hands against his chest, she became distracted by the gentle pressure of his lips as his fingertips lingered along the neckline at the back of her gown, caressing her shoulders and the nape of her neck in the most tantalizing manner.
As he noted Elizabeth’s continued responsiveness to his ministrations, Darcy felt an unadulterated thrill travel through his body and, with it, the last fragments of his self-control. With a wrenching determination, he pulled away and caressed the softness of her cheek with an unsteady hand, one thought predominant in his mind: If it is the last thing I do, I shall win her heart and make her my wife!
* * *
That evening at Netherfield there was a noticeable difference in Darcy. The sullenness and despair that had consumed him for the past week now seemed to be nothing more than an unpleasant memory. Hope reigned in his heart with the pure elation he felt since kissing Elizabeth. Each time Darcy’s gaze fell upon her lovely face, he was flooded with a warmth that truly became him, which brought relief and joy to Jane and Bingley, and a flush of feeling to Elizabeth.
To Miss Bingley, who was hardly blind to his marked preference for Elizabeth, it was nothing short of infuriating. She had tried for days to draw him out—and for years to interest him. Damn Charles for ever coming into Hertfordshire! What could have inspired him to settle in such an odious place? All her efforts would be for naught if Darcy ended up paying his addresses to Elizabeth Bennet.
Miss Bingley glared as Darcy’s gaze followed Elizabeth to the pianoforte with a half-drugged look of desire in his eyes. Intolerable! How could he even think of throwing himself away over an impertinent little nobody? And Charles is no better, following Jane Bennet around the countryside like a lap dog. Something needed to be done before any more time elapsed. Perhaps they could remove to Town before Christmas? London was far enough away from the charms and allurements of the Bennet sisters, and though she and Darcy would no longer share the distinction of residing together in the same house, the trip to Town would at least provide the relief of far more superior society for her brother.
Chapter 6
Once Jane and Elizabeth had taken their leave of the Netherfield party and were on their way back to Longbourn, Miss Bingley allowed herself to breathe easier, eagerly anticipating the restoration of Darcy’s full attention to the members of his own party—namely, herself. The entire evening, however, seemed calculated to disappoint and vex her at every turn. When Bingley and Darcy finally returned from seeing the ladies to their carriage, which, as far as Miss Bingley was concerned, had taken far longer than civility required, the two gentlemen quickly excused themselves and retired to the billiard room, where they passed the rest of their evening.
With a disdainful huff, Miss Bingley swallowed her irritation and approached her sister with the purpose of soliciting her support for her scheme to remove their entire party to London as soon as possible. She had felt fairly certain she would meet with success on this front; however, to her increasing vexation, she soon found herself facing disappointment once again.
“Though I do long to be in Town, Caroline,” said Mrs. Hurst distractedly as she examined the elegant gold bangles adorning her wrists, “I hardly think it would be prudent to travel there now, when our brother is planning to hold a ball within a matter of a few weeks. Surely you must realize he will require all our assistance, and Christmas shall be upon us soon after. No doubt the local gentry will expect him to do some measure of entertaining, you know, if he wishes to establish himself well in the neighborhood. It shall not be all that bad, I suppose. Hertfordshire, I do hear, is uniformly charming once it snows, even if the society itself leaves something to be desired. A sleigh ride through the countryside might be quite pleasant, you know, Sister.”
“My dear Louisa,” Miss Bingley said with disdain, “we could enjoy a sleigh ride just as well in London, but that is hardly the point. I was thinking only of poor Charles when I devised this plan. Do you honestly think it wise to permit him to stay on here in this savage society and carry on as he has with Jane Bennet? He has all but proposed to her, and I am convinced it is only a matter of time before all hope will be lost for us.”
“Certainly you do not think Jane Bennet would refuse our brother?”
Miss Bingley was incensed. “Refuse him? I should say not!”
“Well, then I do not understand what you can be about, Caroline. Though you are well aware I, too, had my reservations in the beginning, I confess I do not remember ever having seen Charles so much in love. Certainly her connections are not what one would have hoped for—Ugh! Her mother!—but Jane Bennet is a sweet girl; not even you can deny it, Sister, and I believe she will make him very happy. He could do far worse, as you well know.”
“Louisa, all that is immaterial!” Miss Bingley hissed as she clenched her fists upon her lap. “He is our brother! What will our acquaintance in Town say should they hear of this infatuation of his? No. It is not to be borne. His judgment has obviously been impaired by Jane Bennet’s figure and her serene smile. Charles needs our protection from these scheming country people. They are not so artless and simple as they would have us believe.”
She was fuming. This was not at all going to her liking. “And what about poor Mr. Darcy, Louisa? Since we have arrived in this odious part of the country, he has not been at all himself. Surely he can no longer be in his right mind, for if he was, you must know he would never have approved of Charles’s forming such an unsuitable connection. It would be a punishment for him. He is used to only the very best and most refined society, and I strongly believe the savagery here has managed, in some grievous way, to unhinge him. Why, you must have seen Elizabeth Bennet tonight, Sister! She all but threw herself at him. It was most shocking. She is attempting to ensnare him with her arts and allurements. Her behavior is almost scandalous!”
Mrs. Hurst, whose attention was now focused on her rings, merely shrugged. “Mmm…”
Miss Bingley threw back her head in frustration and exhaled loudly. Her gaze soon came to rest upon Mr. Hurst, and she decided to try another approach. “Come, Mr. Hurst,” she cooed in what she perceived was a persuasive tone, “certainly we must hear your opinion of this wretched business, sir!”
Mr. Hurst’s eye
s suddenly flew open, and he expelled a loud grunt of surprise. If Miss Bingley had been more astute in her observation, she would have recognized that her brother-in-law had no opinion prepared for her to hear; he had been dozing upon the settee for the last half hour, at least. “What was that?” he grumbled in irritation. Upon seeing Miss Bingley smirking at him, he rolled his eyes and muttered, “Damn tedious waste,” before promptly shutting them again.
Miss Bingley turned to her sister with a smug look of triumph. “Oh, I quite agree! You see, Louisa, Mr. Hurst and I are of exactly the same opinion. We cannot allow the dear man to be placed in such a compromising position—to be further subjected to the machinations of such a penniless and impertinent little upstart who behaves in the most reprehensible and unfashionable manner I have ever seen. It is deplorable.”
Mr. Hurst blinked at her in confusion and struggled to pull himself to a sitting position. “What the blazes are you prattling on about now?” he asked gruffly as he reached past her and began to refill his empty glass with wine.
“As I was saying, Mr. Hurst, we must do everything in our power to protect our Mr. Darcy from that mercenary little chit, Elizabeth Bennet.”
“Our Mr. Darcy, eh? You think he needs your protection, do you? Huh!” he snorted. “That is rich, indeed! If you want my opinion, you should leave the pair of them to themselves. In case you have not noticed, Caroline, the man has been hiding himself away in bloody misery for the last week, and tonight he finally snapped out of it. It can hardly be construed as a coincidence that it was after Elizabeth Bennet came to call. I say, if it took a few smiles from a little country lass to do… whatever it is she did to him, then let Darcy have her, and be done with it. There can be no harm in a man indulging in a little sport every now and then.”
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 5