by Ola Wegner
“I… yes.”
He walked to her again. “Could you meet me early tomorrow in the grove, before my departure? Will seven o’clock not be too early?”
“No, I am used to rising early.” She felt his gaze on her, but she refused to return it. He stood by her side for some time before walking in the direction of the door.
At length, Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy, standing by the door, but not reaching for the doorknob, as if he could not decide whether to go or stay. He was looking at her, and Elizabeth forced herself to smile at him. It was barely a shadow of a smile, which did not even reach her eyes; but Mr. Darcy had to take it for incentive, as he smiled back at her, widely, which completely changed his whole countenance. Before she knew it, he was beside her again, pulling her into his embrace.
One of his hands was placed firmly around her waist, the other cradled her cheek. “I would wish to stay here with you longer, but I have to go. My aunt may have noticed my absence and guessed I am with you. It will be better for us not to mention about our understanding to her for now. You may tell Mrs. Collins of our engagement; she seems to be a sensible woman who can be trusted.”
“Yes, she is,” Elizabeth whispered, her eyes stubbornly focused on his elaborately tied neck cloth, wishing him to simply go and leave her alone.
“What is the matter, Lizzy?” Elizabeth’s eyes lifted up to him in surprise, her eyelashes fluttering. Had Mr. Darcy just called her Lizzy?
“You look so very shocked,” he chuckled, his whole face beaming at her. “I know that you did not expect my proposal. I understand you are still in awe and cannot believe your own good fortune.”
“Where is my impertinent little lady?” he asked laughingly, and when she did not answer, still staring at him as if spellbound, he sighed, shaking his head with a smile, and pressed her very tightly to himself.
Elizabeth froze, feeling for the first time in her life, a hard male body next to hers. She had always known that he was tall, but in such close contact, she was more aware of how he was so very large. Her face was pressed sideways on his chest, one of his arms around her shoulders, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck, the other arm placed lower around her waist.
“I really must go,” he whispered into her ear.
Then go! It screamed in her head. But he did not make the smallest move to separate from her; instead she felt hot, moist kisses on her neck.
“Mr. Darcy,” she choked at last, taking a decided step back from him.
He let her go finally, however, obviously very reluctantly, and sighed again. “You will have to get used to me in this respect, Elizabeth.”
She gaped at him, astounded with his arrogance. His warm hands cupped her cheeks and slowly smoothed down her shoulders and arms. “I told you that my regard for you has been passionate from the first moments. Now you should go upstairs and take an early night. A good night’s sleep is the best for a headache. I only hope you will be able to fall asleep with such exciting news.” He smiled in satisfaction.
“I shall be waiting for you tomorrow morning in the grove,” he added, placing a soft kiss on her temple and leaving the room.
Chapter Three
Mr. and Mrs. Collins returned home late, as after tea they had been invited to dine at the manor. It did not escape Charlotte’s attention how agitated Mr. Darcy had appeared to be that afternoon; his behaviour had been rather unusual. First, when they had just arrived, he had disappeared somewhere for well over two hours at least. He had been back at dinner, and when his aunt enquired where he had been, he had explained himself that there had been unexpected and urgent business which he had been forced to attend to immediately. During the dinner itself, Mr. Darcy had seemed to be quite oblivious to what was happening at the table. Even Lady Catherine had been forced to repeat herself when she had addressed him, as he had paid no attention to her words whatsoever. Charlotte had observed him discreetly, conveniently sitting opposite him. It struck her that Mr. Darcy had clearly smiled to himself a few times, even though the tone of the conversation at the table had not been of a kind to sparkle any amusement.
Mrs. Collins’ surprise was even greater when, on returning home in one of Lady Catherine’s carriages that her ladyship had been kind enough to offer them,she was informed by the servant that during their absence Mr. Darcy had called and had conversed for a long time in the parlour with Miss Bennet. Later Miss Bennet had gone straight to her room, refusing to take any dinner. Charlotte put all these facts together quickly, both Mr. Darcy’s and Elizabeth’s odd behaviour that day, Mr. Darcy’s absentmindedness during dinner, and his so unusual secret smiling. Dared she hope that Mr. Darcy had actually proposed to her dearest friend?
Without delay, she sent her husband to his room, ordering him to wait there for her as she had some business yet to attend, and she rushed to Elizabeth’s room. She knocked softly at the door, but nobody answered for a moment. Knocking again, the thought crossed her mind that Eliza had probably already gone to bed, but then soft voice was heard.
“Enter.”
Elizabeth was sitting in the window seat ledge in her nightclothes, her knees hugged to her chest.
“Elizabeth,” Charlotte spoke cautiously, approaching the window. “How is your headache?”
Elizabeth gave her a dumbfounded look. “My headache…?” Her dark brows furrowed. “It is better… I mean, I am well. I have forgotten about it.”
Charlotte put her hand on her friend’s arm gently. “Are you certain you are well?” she asked, but Elizabeth only nodded her head absently in response. There was a moment of silence before Charlotte spoke slowly. “The servant said Mr. Darcy called during our absence. Did he talk with you?”
Elizabeth looked up at her, biting her lip, her eyes wide. “You cannot imagine what I have done,” she whispered in distress.
“Let me try,” Charlotte spoke slowly. “Mr. Darcy proposed to you, and you accepted.”
“How do you know?” Elizabeth cried, her eyes wide. “Did he talk with you about this?”
“No, he did not. I simply guessed. I have been telling you that he admires you. That is wonderful, Elizabeth” Charlotte smiled warmly at her friend. “I congratulate you.”
But Elizabeth sprang to her feet as if not listening to her friend and started pacing the room in an agitated manner. “Charlotte, what have I done?” Her hands went to her head. “I dislike him so.”
Charlotte walked to her, taking Elizabeth’s hands into hers, she spoke in a firm voice. “Elizabeth Bennet, look at me.” She waited till Elizabeth met her eyes. “Accepting Mr. Darcy’s proposal of marriage was the wisest thing that you have done in all your life. Do not dare to try to deny him now.”
“I do not love him,” Elizabeth pleaded miserably, her face a picture of anguish. “I thought I could do it. I was remembering what you said about Jane, and what we learned about the Parker girls…. I was telling myself that I could do this, that I could accept him, and I said yes.”
Charlotte squeezed her hands and looked straight into her eyes with determination. “It was a very good decision,” she said evenly, stressing every word.
“But…,” Elizabeth started again, but her friend interrupted her decidedly. “No doubts, no hesitations, please. It is done. Think about your family; what opportunities it creates for your younger sisters; think about Jane. Mr. Bingley, as Mr. Darcy’s best friend, will surely be asked to attend your wedding. He and Jane will meet again. Perhaps even both of them will stand for you and Mr. Darcy at the ceremony. Can you imagine a better opportunity to unite them? Moreover, your marriage to Mr. Darcy will ensure security for your entire family.”
Elizabeth shook her head, her hands coming to her face. “I know, Charlotte. I am aware of all these circumstances, but something inside me is telling me that I should not have accepted him, that it is wrong to accept a man who thinks to love me, when I do not feel the same for him.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and spoke gently. “You cannot know
that you will not come to love him in time.”
“But he is such an arrogant, selfish, haughty man; and when I think about poor Mr. Wickham and my…” Elizabeth started, but was again abruptly interrupted by her friend.
“Elizabeth, listen to me carefully. George Wickham is nobody! Do you hear me?” Mrs. Collins placed her hands on Elizabeth’s shoulders, shaking her. “He is no one of consequence to you, and you must forget about him and about his tales. As for Mr. Darcy and his unfavourable qualities, I am sure that they can be diminished if you will influence him. Clearly, he is ready to do a lot for you, to sacrifice a lot for you. You can change him for the better. It is in your power. I am sure he will be willing to please you in any respect. Remember, as well, about his intelligence, his education and knowledge of the world. I think we can safely state that he is the only man of your acquaintance apart from your father who is your intellectual equal.”
Elizabeth did not contradict these words, but she did not look convinced at all by her friend’s arguments. Charlotte continued more calmly. “Did he ask you for a meeting tomorrow?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, he did. He wants to meet me early in the morning in the grove. I am to bring a letter to my father, informing him of our attachment. He is to deliver it to Longbourn yet the same day, and ask for my father’s consent.”
“Have you written the letter?”
“No.” Elizabeth shook her head. “How can I lie to my father, trying to convince him that I suddenly like Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried fiercely. “Papa knows how I hate him.”
“You do not hate your betrothed,” Charlotte scolded her sharply. “You talked yourself into hating him, because he once said you were not attractive enough for him to dance with. Now, what time are you to meet him tomorrow?”
“Seven o’clock,” Elizabeth murmured.
“I will get up earlier tomorrow and help you with your dress and hair. You must look your best. It would be best to write the letter now.” Charlotte, seeing that Elizabeth was standing in place, without the slightest intention of moving, took her by the hand and sat her by the small desk. “Come. I shall help you to write a convincing letter to Mr. Bennet. He should not have any suspicions about your doubts.”
***
Fitzwilliam Darcy rolled onto the other side of the huge four poster bed in his chamber at Rosings Park. The night was cloudless, and the moon shone through the open curtains, allowing him to see through the darkness. He reached for the pocket watch resting on his bedside to read it was past two o’clock. In little more than four hours, he would see Elizabeth again. He had known he would not get any sleep this night. He felt funny, all giddy inside, knowing that after all the inner struggle of months, she was at last his.
She had seemed to be entirely surprised with his proposals; he smiled to himself. She had looked so adorably shocked when he had called her Lizzy. Darcy closed his eyes, concentrating again on the sensation of having her in his arms. She had been so small and warm, her body soft, and she smelt so sweet. The skin on her graceful neck, where he had managed to kiss her, was so soft, so delicate. He was a bit disappointed that she had not let him do anything more. He would not have gone too far, of course – he respected her virtue – but he longed for a kiss. She was a true genteel lady, and an innocent, and being in a man’s arms was surely very new to her. He had felt how she stiffened when he pressed her to him. Good Lord, he craved her touch and caresses so much, but he was neither stupid nor blind. He doubted that her affections matched his, not yet, at least. He knew though that soon he would win her over completely, and then she would not hesitate to allow him some liberties.
Tomorrow he would procure her father’s consent and then return to Kent as soon as possible to escort her to her family in London. He had heard her speaking to his aunt about her plans to travel by post, accompanied just by the man servant her uncle was to send. It would not be borne that his future wife travel alone by post. He would have to bear those relatives of hers in trade, whatever their name was… Gardiner. It would not be pleasant, but there was no way to avoid it. Thankfully, Elizabeth was sensible enough, and she would surely agree to sever the relations with her family after the wedding. But he would not think about her unfortunate connections now. He felt a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach at the thought of the wedding. How soon could it be? A few weeks perhaps, if all could be prepared that soon. They would spend their first summer at Pemberley this year.
He looked at the empty space beside him. How would it feel to have her there, in his bed, at night? To be able to always touch her, reach for her? He would at last learn how she looked under her clothes. So far he had been well acquainted with every part of her uncovered by her dresses. She had small hands, feet and ears. Her hair was thick, and probably very long, judging by the great mass of curls pinned on top of her head. And those dark eyes, eyes in which he was lost every time she directed them at him; though at first sight, they seemed to be black, in truth they were very dark green. He loved to observe her long eyelashes, charmingly curled in the corners. Even the imperfections of her face, like too short an upper lip, an imperfectly shaped nose, with far too many freckles on it, or that slightly crooked front tooth, seemed lovely to him.
As for her body… Darcy felt himself shivering, his arousal growing. His hand moved under the bed covers and he started touching himself leisurely. She was perfect in that respect. Perfect for him. During their mutual walks across the Rosings grounds, he had many an opportunity to observe her graceful form. Her breasts were a full handful for sure; he could barely wait to see them. Judging by her reserved behaviour today, he would have to wait for the wedding night to have a look at them. Somewhere at the back of his mind, he knew it was perhaps not exactly gentlemanlike to concentrate so on his betrothed’s assets, but for the first time in his life, perhaps he did not care. He had seen many loveless marriages, so cold and entirely deprived of passion, in which the woman and man met in bed only to ensure themselves an heir.
His marriage would be entirely different. It was his reward for all the sacrifices he had been forced to make to marry her. Elizabeth was his gratification for all the hardships, all the blows and sorrows he had received from life: First his mother’s death, which made his father entirely indifferent to everything around him, then the years of hard work when he had to pull Pemberley out of collapse, at the same time bringing up a little girl almost alone. And lastly, the matter of that cad, Wickham, his lies, his deception and the fact that he had almost lost Georgiana to him last summer. But now, better times would come. Now he would indulge himself for the first time in his life with a lovely wife; he would love, cherish and spend every hour of the day with her, the delight of his life. Elizabeth was kind, her heart tender, and she would be good for Georgiana, the same as she had been for her own sister, Jane, when she had nursed her at Netherfield. The thought of Jane prickled his conscience for a moment, but he quickly pushed the thought aside.
Ah, Elizabeth, how good it had felt to have her in his arms today. Darcy had found himself astonished in the early days of their acquaintance, even terrified, with this violent physical reaction he had always had for Elizabeth. Before her, he had been with a few women, but perhaps apart from his first time when he had been boyishly curious of how the naked woman looked, he had never been interested in what the women he had been with looked like under their clothing. He had felt no need to disrobe them completely or to disrobe himself for that matter. But with Elizabeth… the movement of his hand below the bed sheets became more urgent.
He remembered once when he had met her on one of her walks. She had said then she had planned a very long walk, across the fields. Darcy had been aware that the ground was more uneven than in the park. He could not allow her to hurt her foot, so he had insisted on accompanying her, of course. It had been the first truly warm day of the year, and she had not worn her spenser, only a light shawl thrown on her arms. He had walked slightly behind her, staring hungrily at the back of her neck,
fighting the temptation to draw her to him and kiss her there, just at the place where her hair started to form in tiny curls. Then his eyes had lowered, and he noticed that her dress had been looser at the back. Clearly Elizabeth had not been wearing stays that day, as he could not see the edge of the corset starting under her dress. She had likely anticipated the physical exertion on walking on the uneven path, and she had probably resigned from putting on such a restricting garment. They had been about to cross another field border, and he was helping her to climb over the stone fence. She had barely supported herself on his hand, practically jumping lightly down on her own. However, as he had stood in front of her, he had caught the perfect view of her front. He had observed as her breasts swayed heavily, as she had been descending down. Moreover, as the wind had blown more strongly, her nipples had protruded through the thin cotton of her dress.
Darcy’s breathing grew harsher, and he scrambled awkwardly out of the bed, going hastily straight to the chamber pot in the dressing room. He returned to bed calmed down a bit, and again reached for his pocket watch. Only three hours more and he would see her. Lying on his side, he took the pillow and brought it to himself. Soon he reached for the other one, and put them together by his side, imagining that it was she with him in his bed. He closed his eyes with a blissful smile on his lips.
***
The next morning, when Elizabeth reached the grove, he was already there, pacing restlessly from place to place. She stopped before he could notice her and took a deep breath. Charlotte was right:
she had done well yesterday in accepting him. She must think about Jane and her family.
“Miss Bennet!” she heard, and he was approaching her hastily, smiling at her.
Elizabeth smiled back meekly and was instantly surprised again that instead of his usual serious bow, he reached directly for her hands, lifting them to his lips.
“Your hands are cold.” He rubbed her hands in his. “Where are your gloves?” Only then did she notice she had forgotten to put on her gloves.