Darcy reined in his horse and, in one fluid movement, leapt from the saddle to stand before her with one of his rare, devastating smiles. He labored to catch his breath, his chest heaving from the exertion of his long, hard ride, and brought her gloved hand to his lips. “Good morning, Elizabeth,” he said.
“Good morning, Fitzwilliam.” Her voice was warm, and she painted a tantalizing picture, her cheeks a most becoming shade of pink from her exposure to the morning chill. “You are certainly up early, considering the lateness of the hour we kept last night.”
“I could easily say the same for you,” Darcy quipped. He had not bothered to relinquish her hand. “I am often an early riser, but I confess I did not sleep very well last night.”
“Oh? And pray, why was that, sir?” she asked in a teasing voice.
“Something particular weighed heavily upon my mind, and I missed you terribly after our evening ended. I am afraid such a combination made repose impossible.”
A sympathetic smile played across Elizabeth’s mouth as a blush appeared on her face. She, too, had found it difficult to fall asleep once she had returned to Longbourn, her head overflowing with images of Darcy and memories of his lips upon hers and the warmth of his hands upon her body. What on earth is this hold he has over me? she wondered for what must have been the hundredth time. Elizabeth could hardly credit it. When Elizabeth was with him, she could think of very little beyond the exquisite pleasure his company afforded her—to say nothing of his touch, his mouth, even a penetrating look from his dark, expressive eyes. Even when alone, her thoughts were filled with Darcy.
But what distressed her most was how she could possibly feel such a powerful urge to abandon propriety, for that was very much what Elizabeth found herself wishing every time she observed Darcy’s intense gaze settle upon her. And Darcy’s gaze always came to rest upon her. This enigmatic power he seemed to have over her sensibilities disconcerted her greatly. It seemed so easy to surrender her body, but was she truly equal to completely surrendering her heart to such an overwhelming passion? Was she even worthy of such a love as he claimed to possess for her?
It had been far easier than Elizabeth had ever anticipated to come to like him. And, indeed, she now had to admit she liked him very much. Darcy had shown himself to be an excellent man, intelligent, insightful, fair-minded, and honorable, with a dry, clever wit she could well appreciate. Yet, at the same time he could be tender and caring—passionate, even—and vulnerable. But surely I cannot be falling in love with him so soon! she attempted to reason with herself. What if I am mistaken in this? My Lord… how am I ever to be certain of anything?!
Something in Darcy’s eyes caught her attention then, and Elizabeth found herself drawing closer. She could see just by looking at him that whatever unpleasant preoccupation had been weighing upon his mind the previous night tormented him still. She felt an overwhelming urge to comfort him, and almost without thought, she moved to place her free hand upon his face. “Would you care to speak of what bothers you?” she asked quietly.
The heat from her touch and the delicate lavender scent of her fragrance flooded his senses. Darcy closed his eyes briefly and shook his head. “I would rather not. Not at this time. Forgive me, Elizabeth.”
“There is nothing to forgive.”
The urge to bring him comfort did not abate. Elizabeth traced the line of his jaw, brushing her thumb across his bottom lip while his breathing deepened. She kept her voice as soft and caressing as her touch. “Is there, perhaps, another way, then, that I might ease your troubled mind as effectively as you seem to be able to ease mine, dearest?” She tilted up her face to his and parted her lips in an invitation.
It was the first time Elizabeth had ever referred to Darcy by such an endearment, and the fact that she was the one initiating the physical intimacy between them caused an unbearable source of emotion to surge through his breast. His body grew heated with undeniable passion, and before he could master himself, Darcy pulled Elizabeth against him in a tight embrace, kissing her passionately and with unwonted abandon.
He had caught her completely off guard. His way was usually more tender and less demanding, but apparently Elizabeth found this exchange to be far from unpleasant. So loving was her response, that his hunger for her threatened to overpower him.
They continued thus for what seemed an eternity, Darcy holding her as he ran his hands down her back and over her hips, reveling in the utter intoxication of losing himself in the woman he loved. He suddenly felt himself desiring her so much, he found himself vocalizing his fervent wish that she was already his.
Elizabeth gasped at the boldness of such a declaration, as well as the path of his hands as they traveled upward from her hips to caress the softness of her breasts. She froze, held captive by the many delectable shocks of desire coursing through her from this new intimacy.
It took Darcy a moment to comprehend, that Elizabeth was no longer returning his ardent kisses, and realizing with sudden horror the liberties he had been taking, he tore himself from her and stepped away.
“Forgive me, forgive me,” was all he could manage, but he repeated it over and over again in a whisper as he sank to his knees and ran his hands over his face. He was appalled he had taken advantage of Elizabeth in such a way—his Elizabeth, whom he loved and respected beyond measure—even beyond reason. He knew he had no right to do what he had done, just as he had no right to wrap his arms around her waist to draw comfort from her presence, but when she quietly moved to stand before him, he could not resist doing just that.
Darcy clung to her, burying his face in her spencer and the soft folds of her gown while she removed his hat and entwined her fingers through his curls. It had a soothing effect on him. He could not cease marveling at her generous capacity to continually overlook his offenses. How can she still be so tender and caring toward me? How can she even permit me to hold her after I have taken such liberties? If anyone had come upon them, Elizabeth’s reputation would have been in tatters; yet, here she was comforting him. He was overwhelmed.
“Fitzwilliam?” Her voice was soft and gentle, with no hint of admonishment in her tone, only concern.
Shaking his head, he said, “You have placed your trust in me, enough to offer yourself in such a way, and yet I have taken advantage of your generosity and tenderness in a manner that can only be described as completely reprehensible. I do not deserve you.”
Elizabeth recognized the self-loathing in his voice and stared at him for a moment in confusion. “Why would you think that? Surely, you must have noticed the pleasure I receive from your attentions?”
He remained silent.
She lowered herself to the ground and held his hands. “Fitzwilliam, look at me. Do you truly think I would not welcome such a natural progression of intimacy between us? If this is the case, I can assure you that you are mistaken. I welcome it, very much. If I did not, I would never encourage you to kiss me or permit you to take me in your arms as I do. You must know that.”
He sighed before saying, “Yes. I do. I also know you would never have allowed the liberties I have taken in the first place if you did not feel some degree of tenderness for me. It is just that the regard I know you now have for me is not yet equal to the strength of my feelings for you. I do not wish to ask too much of you, Elizabeth. I would never be able to live with myself if my…affections for you were to drive you away from me. I cannot tell you how much I fear losing you, losing what I have found with you.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “You know not how much I—”
“Shh, dearest, shh,” she said as she stroked a curl from his brow, “there is no need to think of such things.”
Needing very much to feel her reassurance, Darcy pulled her onto his lap, and they held each other in silence for some time before he finally allowed himself to voice a concern that had been tormenting him since the previous evening. “Elizabeth, you must promise me you will not allow your mother to persuade you to marry that… man. I could not b
ear it.”
She could not help but laugh. “By ‘that man,’ I suppose you refer to my cousin, sir? No”—she smiled—“have no worries on that account. Heaven forbid, even if I were to be found with Mr. Collins in a compromising situation, and the chance of that is practically nonexistent, I can safely promise you I would never consent to marry him.”
“And what if you were found in a compromising situation with me?” he asked softly and with complete seriousness. “Would you continue to refuse me, as well? Or might I be successful by employing some particular manner of persuasion that might entice you to accept me?”
“I believe, Fitzwilliam,” she said with an impish smile as she caressed his jaw, “that in a matter of only a few weeks, you have already had far more success on that score than my poor cousin could ever hope for in the course of his entire life!”
Darcy’s eyes flared. “Truly?”
She bowed her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “Truly. But I believe I am not yet prepared to formalize more than a courtship between us at this time. I hope you understand and are not terribly discouraged. You see, sir, I have only just now come to learn I do not enjoy being the cause of any disappointment to you.”
He traced her cheek with his finger as his eyes devoured her. “Then why do you continue to refuse me the one thing that would most assuredly not disappoint me?”
She raised her brow in admonishment.
“Forgive me,” he said. “I should not have asked it. Of course, I would never wish for you to consent to anything I ask of you before you are ready to do so with your whole heart.”
“I know, and I thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him with warmth and feeling.If I cannot yet agree to say what I know will make him happy, at least I can show him how much happiness he brings to me.
* * *
Not until some time later, Darcy and Elizabeth managed to find their way back to Longbourn, where they were met at the end of the walkway by Mrs. Bennet, her nerves in an obvious dither.
“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy, you are certainly out early this morning. And how kind of you to condescend to escort such an impertinent, headstrong girl home from her wild ramblings about the countryside. You are very welcome to breakfast, sir, for we are all just sitting down now, but I am afraid Lizzy will be prevented from joining us. Mr. Collins has something very particular he wishes to speak to her about.” She snatched Elizabeth away before either could raise any objection, and propelled her into the house.
Darcy was horrified. Good, God! It can only mean my aunt’s half-witted parson intends to propose to her! He experienced a sudden, desperate urge to run after Elizabeth and tear her away from her mother’s grasp, to put her upon the back of his horse and carry her off to London without delay, where he would marry her immediately. The scandal that would surely follow them would demand they marry in any case. Knowing, however, that Elizabeth would be displeased by his taking such a rash measure, he swallowed hard, passed his hand over his eyes, and considered his other options. Darcy was forced to admit that, other than publicly declaring the very particular manner in which he had just compromised her in the middle of the field, he was left with very little else but to present his suit and try his luck at reasoning with Mr. Bennet.
Squaring his shoulders, Darcy strode into the house, and seeing no one else about, he knocked upon the door to Mr. Bennet’s sanctuary. He heard a faint, “Enter,” issued from within the confines of the library, and breathed a sigh of relief before pushing open the door, hoping to find the elder gentleman alone.
“Ah, yes. Mr. Darcy. I have been expecting you, sir. Come in, come in. It is early yet for anything stronger than coffee, but I will not discourage you if, under the circumstances, you are feeling so inclined.” Mr. Bennet’s mouth was turned up in a wry smile, not unlike the one he had often seen upon Elizabeth’s pert lips, Darcy observed.
“Thank you, no, sir.”
“Very well. Let us get to it, then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “Am I correct in supposing you have come to ask me something particular about my Lizzy?”
“Yes, sir, I have, but I hesitate to tell you there appears to be a slight… impediment.” Darcy watched uneasily as Mr. Bennet’s eyebrows retreated into his hairline.
“An impediment, did you say? I do not suppose you would care to enlighten me, Mr. Darcy, by telling me precisely what this impediment is and why it should affect your making my daughter an offer of marriage this morning?”
“It is precisely that, Mr. Bennet. I have already made Miss Elizabeth an offer of marriage not more than a fortnight ago, and she has refused me. She has, however, granted her consent to allow me the privilege of courting her, and I now respectfully ask you for yours until such a time as I am able to persuade her to reconsider.”
Mr. Bennet leaned forward. “Let me rightly understand you, Mr. Darcy. You proposed to Elizabeth two weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“And she has refused you?”
“Yes.”
“And, in spite of her refusal of your hand, she is willing to allow you to pay court to her in the meantime?”
“Yes.”
“Extraordinary!” Mr. Bennet steepled his fingers and sat silently in thought for several minutes before addressing Darcy with a stern look. “Can you give me one reason, after the display I witnessed at the Netherfield ball, why I should not force Elizabeth to accept you today, regardless of what her current wishes might be? Before you answer me, I will remind you that your conduct was not witnessed only by me, but also by her mother, her elder sister, her cousin, Mr. Bingley, and his family, and God only knows how many of our other well-intentioned, gossiping neighbors.”
“I do not wish for Miss Elizabeth to be forced to marry me. It is not what she wants, nor is it what I would wish for her.”
Elizabeth’s father was incredulous. “Not what she wants? Not what you would wish for her? That is not good enough for me, Mr. Darcy! Both of you should have been responsible enough to have taken the consequences of such actions into account before you chose to behave so in public! You can think whatever you like, sir, but it is obvious from what I saw that my daughter is far from averse to your attentions. As a matter of fact, she seems to favor you with an astonishing familiarity I cannot help but find disturbing under the circumstances. So I am sure that, in light of this pointed observation, neither of you will remain unhappy for very long after you have entered into matrimony as soon as possible.”
Darcy was at a loss. He knew not what to do nor how to convince this man he could not possibly marry his favorite daughter without her declaration of love. He soon realized, however, any further assurances of the vehemence of his love for Elizabeth and his desire for the preservation of her happiness and her wishes would not aid him in the least. He clearly needed another approach. Deep in thought, he ran the back of his hand across his lips. “Sir, may I speak plainly?”
Mr. Bennet sighed and nodded curtly.
Darcy strode to the window and back several times before he finally said, “I will marry Miss Elizabeth, you have my word, both as a gentleman and as the master of Pemberley, Mr. Bennet, but I do ask that you reconsider and indulge your daughter’s desire for a formal courtship. Announcing an impending wedding between us at this time would succeed only in adding fuel to any local gossip that may arise. However, should it, instead, become publicly known that there already exists between us a prior courtship—which there most certainly does—then, perhaps continuing in this vein for several months or so might be a better option than announcing an engagement. It will give Miss Elizabeth the time she desires to come to better know her heart, not to mention it will very likely provide ample time for any idle talk and speculation to die down, as well.”
Mr. Bennet glared at him as Darcy placed his hands upon the desk. “Mr. Bennet, because I am not unacquainted with the fervency of your attachment to your daughter and her very great affection for you, I must now ask you to consider
whether forcing such a life-altering, permanent arrangement upon her in such a manner could truly prove to be beneficial. Miss Elizabeth will surely feel resentment toward both you and me over such a course of action. And I feel I need not point out that resentment is hardly an element that can be construed as conducive, either to marital felicity or to familial harmony. Forgive me, sir, but I find it very difficult to believe you would truly wish to force such an unwelcome fate upon your favorite daughter.”
Mr. Bennet observed Darcy in irritated silence. Touché, Mr. Darcy, he thought bitterly and with no little resentment of his own. As much as he hated to admit it, this arrogant young man had known precisely how to carry his point with him. No, Mr. Bennet would certainly not wish to be the one to cause his Lizzy any unhappiness in life. Indeed, bringing misery to his favorite daughter had always been something he had studiously avoided, although, with such a woman as Mrs. Bennet for a mother, sometimes some measure of misery could not be helped. Mr. Bennet thought long and hard about his own unequal marriage and ran his hand over his tired eyes. If Darcy’s conjectures are correct, then perhaps I might, even yet, be able to spare Lizzy this displeasure… if only for a little while longer.
Mr. Bennet had had enough dealings with Darcy to know he was an intelligent, honorable man, but that did not mean he was happy about this turn of events. Drumming his fingers upon his desk, he finally sighed in resignation. “Very well,” he grumbled.
Darcy exhaled and took a seat in one of the two chairs across the desk from Elizabeth’s father. “Thank you, sir.”
“Yes, well, what else can I say? I fear I am only too familiar with the consequences of marrying in haste. I would not wish that upon my Lizzy or her future children, not even with a man I know to be as honorable and intelligent as you. I yield to you, sir. Elizabeth shall have two months in which to become better acquainted with you, but I must caution you not to misinterpret my ruling, Mr. Darcy. Should any scandalous gossip result from your unguarded behavior, stemming either from the ball or from some future incident, I will be forced to take action and insist upon my daughter accepting you whether or not she has acquired the feelings you desire for her to have.”
Truth about Mr. Darcy Page 8