by Ola Wegner
His mouth once again covered hers, in one long, deep, drugging kiss, which she accepted more graciously this time. When one large hand cupped her breast and squeezed, she tore away from him.
“Stop,” she exclaimed in a croaked whisper, “Please.”
She rushed away from him, trying to compose herself. It was too much, too fast. She knew that something happened, and they had gone too far, because she felt uncomfortable all over, her breasts tingling, the wetness pooling between her thighs.
It took her a long moment to take her courage and look at him. He was leaning against the wall, his breathing still laboured, and then unexpectedly, he hit the wall with his fist, muffled words escaping him. She thought she heard „I am no better than Wickham.”
She eyed him wearily as he walked to her.
“Forgive me, Elizabeth. I have nothing to defend myself. You deserve so much better.”
“You scared me,” she said, still unsure of him.
“I know,” he reached for her hand and clasped it as if it was made of the finest China. “I swear it will never happen again.”
Elizabeth nodded only, then pulled her hand away from him.
“Let us go,” she whispered and stepped forward, without looking back.
***
Darcy paced the foyer, waiting for Elizabeth, who was taking so much time in her room. He would have not been surprised if she had refused to go with him anywhere today. He had treated her worse than.... You are an idiot and a rake! Like a bull in heat! It screamed in his mind. His father would be rolling in his grave if he could see him now. Elizabeth was his future wife, an innocent, a lady; she deserved respect, patience, caring – and he had nearly taken her against the wall in her parents’ home. The desire he felt for her, and the long years of abstinence, could not justify his scandalous behaviour.
At last he saw her on the landing of the staircase with her younger sister Kitty. Her face looked as if it was freshly scrubbed, and she had on a different dress. She did not wear the shawl he had given her, only her pale blue spencer. Definitely not a good sign.
Darcy tried to read her face, to gaze into her eyes, but she avoided looking at him, her posture stiff and unwelcoming.
“May we go?” he asked.
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes lowered, as she put on her gloves. “We may.”
Kitty said nothing at all, her eyes pointed to the limestone tiled floor. Darcy suspected that the girl was, as she should be, embarrassed with the night’s escapade to his bedroom door at his last visit.
Darcy wanted to offer his arm to Elizabeth, but, instead, he decided to postpone it for a while, not being quite sure whether she would accept it. They were about to go out, the butler opening the door for them, when Mrs. Bennet fled down the stairs.
“Lizzy, Lizzy child, you forgot your shawl!” she cried, out of breath as she approached them.
“Thank you, Mama.” Elizabeth stared at the shawl for a moment, then took it and wrapped it around herself tightly, stepping out of the house.
Elizabeth set off at such a brisk pace that Darcy and Kitty needed to jog a few yards to catch up with her.
Darcy wished to talk to her, apologize, assure himself that she was not afraid of him, but the presence of the younger sister close behind them made it all impossible. He understood that Elizabeth preferred not to be alone with him after what had transpired. She still refused to look in his direction, her head pointed to the fields on the opposite side of the road.
“Lizzy,” Darcy heard the small voice from behind his back. “Can I stop at the Lucases to visit Maria? It is such a long walk to Oakham Mount. You know it tires me to walk so far.”
Elizabeth glanced at Darcy. He was sure she would refuse to be left alone with him.
“Of course, Kitty.” She smiled at the younger girl. “We will stop to pick you up on our way back.”
“Thank you, Lizzy.” Kitty cried and sprinted down the path on the right leading to Lucas Lodge.
Darcy and Elizabeth resumed their walk without a word. After five minutes of silence, Darcy touched her arm, stopping them.
“Please, Lizzy, say you have forgiven me.”
At last she looked up at him from the rim of her straw bonnet.
“You should have not done that. What if my father had come, or one of my sisters, or a servant was passing by?” she cried in earnest, “How would I be able to look into their eyes later on?”
“I know, love. You are perfectly right.” His hands rested on her shoulders and then moved down her arms to her palms, stroking the uncovered skin of her wrist between her glove and the sleeve. “I want you so much, Lizzy. I... forgot myself.”
“I am not your wife, sir, not yet,” Elizabeth reminded him in a firm voice, “You cannot do whatever you want, whenever you wish to. I do not know much about these matters... and cannot guess what you will do next. I know you too little to...” She blushed. “I am not ready to...” She took a deep breath, lifted her chin, and spoke with dignity. “I do not want to be treated like this.”
Darcy had a gulp growing in his throat. In front of him stood the woman he loved, asking him to respect her. What Darcy felt could be only compared to the last time his father had disciplined him for some misbehaviour when he had been yet a lad, only it was much worse this time.
He swallowed. “Elizabeth, I swear on my honour, on the memory of my parents, on Georgiana, that I will never try to touch you in an intimate way, kiss you unless you tell me so directly or show me that you desire it.”
Her pretty face covered with a lovely blush as he was speaking about touching her intimately. She took a long moment to look into his eyes, as if checking whether he was serious.
She smiled at last, her usual, easy smile. “Let us forget about it then.”
As if the stone was thrown off his heart, the relief at her forgiveness was great.
“Thank you, dear,” he reached for her hand and squeezed it.
“If you are not afraid of the mud, Mr. Darcy, I suggest taking a shortcut across the pastures.” she proposed. “I dare say it is much more picturesque.”
Darcy agreed readily, stepping after her off the main road they had walked so far. He noticed, of course, that he had become ‘Mr. Darcy’ again, but decided not to comment on that. He did not want to test his good luck. She would surely start using his given name when she felt ready and not pressured into it.
On their way, they needed to cross several fences separating the fields. Darcy insisted on going first, like once in Kent, to help her down on the other side. At first she tried to argue that she was perfectly capable of climbing over the fence on her own, as she had done it all her life. Eventually she grudgingly – and with a discreet roll of her eyes – allowed herself to be helped.
He had never met a more stubborn and independent female, to be sure.
When they were crossing the first border, Darcy limited himself to supporting her arm as she jumped down, but at the next ones, he simply chose to put his hands on her waist and lift her down. He thought it safer and easier, not to mention more painfully pleasurable for him. Having her in his hands for a moment or two, so warm and soft, her sweet scent mixed with her sweat was a sheer torture. She gave him a sharp look when he placed his hands on her middle the first time. But when he did not try to do anything more, and his hands did not linger on her body longer than necessary as he put her on the ground, she calmed down and did not protest the procedure at the next obstacle.
As they finally reached their destination, Darcy needed to turn his eyes away from her so as not to be tempted to take her in his arms again, so attractive was she to him with her cheeks flushed, her bosom heaving from the exertion, and her dark, chocolate curls escaping the pins because she had removed her bonnet much earlier.
“Pleasant view,” Darcy noted as she walked to the edge.
“Surely, it cannot be compared to the views of Derbyshire. My aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, was born and brought up there, and she always praises the wild be
auty of that county.”
“I cannot deny it. Where exactly did your aunt live in Derbyshire?”
Elizabeth turned to him. “Lambton.”
Darcy’s eyebrows shot up. “But it is only five miles from Pemberely.”
“I know, Aunt mentioned it when Mr. Wickham was introduced to her last December.”
The scowl altered Darcy’s features at hearing Wickham’s name. He hated the thought of this bastard anywhere near his Elizabeth. “I have heard that the militia is about to leave Meryton... within days,” he tried to keep his voice calm and detached.
“Yes, they are moving to Brighton for the summer,” she confirmed.
As the memories of July last year returned to him, how Wickham had nearly succeeded in ruining his sister, he did not register that Elizabeth stepped close to him, touching his arm to bring his attention.
“For a long time now, I have wanted to ask you about one matter.”
He gave her a warm look. “Yes.”
“It is about Mr. Wickham. He told me some things about you...,” she hesitated, “Very unfavourable ones.”
“What did he tell you?” Darcy barked, his voice losing all its soft tones.
Her eyes widened at his tone. “He complained that you unfairly refused him the living in the church that your late father had promised to him,” she explained quietly.
Darcy clenched his fists. “It is a gross untruth. I paid him off, three thousand pounds, and he never intended to become a parson in the first place. Wickham a clergyman, Good Lord!” he exclaimed, “He was more interested in gambling and womanizing.”
Elizabeth’s dark eyebrows frowned as she stared at him. Could it be possible that she did not believe his words? Did she think Wickham a victim?
“Elizabeth, I have a proof, the documents he signed. I do not have them on me, but I can send for them.”
Her expression was still uncertain. “I just do not understand,” she searched his face, “Why did he say such things about you to strangers, to me?”
“Elizabeth, I am not surprised. Wickham hates me. He was always jealous of me because I was the heir to Pemberley, and he only the steward’s son, though due to my father’s generosity, he was brought up as a gentleman.”
“He told me that your father loved him more than he did you and it was you who were jealous of him.”
Darcy began pacing, clenching and unclenching his fists. “He did tell you that, the bastard.” He grunted under his breath. “Did he also tell that last summer he attempted to ruin my sister? He talked her into elopement, convinced her of his love, and all because of her dowry. He wanted her thirty thousand pounds!”
Elizabeth gaped at him in shock. “But your sister is very young, a child.”
Darcy nodded. “She was barely fifteen then.”
“He should be prosecuted for it!” Elizabeth cried fiercely.
“No, I do not want anyone to know. You must understand that I want to keep it secret for Georgiana’s sake. I want her to forget and to protect her reputation.”
“You can trust my secrecy,” she assured.
Darcy nodded. “Thank you. You are the only person who knows about it, apart from Colonel Fitzwilliam, who is her second guardian.”
“How is she now?” Elizabeth asked after a moment, her expression one of true concern.
Darcy answered in a calmer voice. “She is a bit better, but still not how she used to be. Georgiana is shy by nature, we both are, but after what happened last summer, she became worse. I have hoped that you, with all your liveliness, will help her to open herself.”
“I would wish to meet her.”
“I would wish that too, but you must see that I cannot bring her here while Wickham is in Meryton.”
“Of course.” Elizabeth agreed as she walked to sit on the fallen tree trunk. “I am still shocked with what you have told me.” She shook her head, “What a cad he is! And he pretends to be so agreeable, so charming.”
Darcy came closer, hovering over her. “Charm was something Wickham never lacked.”
She looked up at him. “I cannot imagine what you felt when you discovered his intentions.”
“It was one of the worst moments in my life, to say the least.”
Elizabeth took his hand and made him sit down next to her.
“I am so sorry that it happened to your sister and to you.”
Darcy looked into her dark, big eyes. He knew that Georgiana’s history had moved her tender heart, but did she really care?
“It is behind us,” he said curtly.
She squeezed his hand in both of her smaller ones.
“I just want Wickham forever out of our lives.” He cupped her cheek, “Promise you will be careful when you see him. It would be best to not talk to him at all. I fear that he will try to hurt you somehow, now that he has surely learned about us.”
She nodded. “I promise. I shall do my best to avoid him.”
Chapter Nine
“Lizzy, Lizzy, come here.” Mrs. Bennet hissed, widening her large blue eyes even more as she stood on the doorstep to her bedroom.
Elizabeth, already dressed in her nightclothes, was on her way to Mary’s room to retrieve her book. She had no idea what her mother wanted from her that she could have not told her before.
Elizabeth frowned. “Mama?”
“Come here.” Her mother mouthed, making a wide, inviting gesture with her hand.
Elizabeth pulled her shawl tighter over her arms and stepped across the hall. “Yes, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet shoved her inside the room and closed the door, “I did not want to talk about it in the presence of Jane. Poor, poor Janie.”
Elizabeth’s heart fluttered in worry. “What has happened?”
Mrs. Bennet settled in her favourite armchair in front of the fireplace. “I paid a visit to my sister Phillips today while you were walking with Mr. Darcy.”
“Yes, I know. You have told us about it already, Mama, at dinner.”
“What I did not tell you is what I heard there about Mr. Darcy.”
Elizabeth stared down at her mother with a frown. “Mr. Darcy? What would that have to do with Jane?”
“Mr. Darcy is not staying at Netherfield.” Mrs. Bennet announced.
“He is not? Then where?” Elizabeth’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you sure, Mama?”
“Yes, Lizzy. It is certain.”
Elizabeth’s frown deepened. “But...” She sat down on the opposite chair.
“Has he ever mentioned to you that he was staying at Netherfield?” Mrs. Bennet asked.
Elizabeth hesitated. “No, he has not, although I took it for granted. It seemed logical - Mr. Bingley is his friend - so I thought that Mr. Darcy asked his permission to use his house during his visit in the neighbourhood.”
“Nothing like that has happened, it seems. Mr. Darcy has been staying at the inn in Meryton since he arrived.”
Elizabeth stared at her mother. “I had no idea.”
“There is more, child. He is buying Purvis Lodge.”
Elizabeth blinked her eyes. “Who?”
“Mr. Darcy, of course,” the older woman cried impatiently.
“Mr. Darcy, Purvis Lodge?” Elizabeth questioned unbelievingly. Purvis Lodge was a spacious cottage with a large garden, stables and even a small park, just outside Meryton. It had been uninhabited for the last couple of years.
“Are you sure, Mama?”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy came to your uncle yesterday to ask him if he would care to deal with all the legal papers concerning the sale.”
“I know nothing about it,” Elizabeth said. “Mr. Darcy never mentioned it to me.”
Mrs. Bennet leaned forward. “Lizzy, child, you must ask Mr. Darcy about it. If he is buying Purvis Lodge, it can only mean that Mr. Bingley does not intend to ever come back to Netherfield, and Mr. Darcy, as his friend, knows that. Perhaps Mr. Bingley already decided to give up the lease of Netherfield. You must talk with Mr. Darcy about it and question him whet
her his friend intends to ever return here. You must do it as soon as possible, tomorrow.”
Elizabeth gave her a worried look. “But Mama... Mr. Darcy told me today that he will be away for the next two days. Tomorrow morning he goes to London to see to some important business there.”
Mrs. Bennet clasped her hands together. “He needs to bring money to pay for Purvis Lodge,” she exclaimed. “It is the only explanation.”
“I think you are correct on this, Mama.”
Mrs. Bennet was shaking her head. “Lizzy, I do not like it. I do not like it at all. What if Mr. Darcy had an argument with Mr. Bingley! Perhaps they are not friends any more? Mr. Bingley will never come here to be the groomsman at your wedding, and he and Jane will never have another chance. Oh, my poor nerves!”
“Mama, we cannot know that.”
“Did Mr. Darcy speak to you about Mr. Bingley?”
“No, he did not.”
“You see yourself! Poor, poor Jane. I have thought that all will be well now, but no, all is lost.”
“No, Mama, it is not,” Elizabeth spoke with force. “I will ask Mr. Darcy about his friend at the first opportunity. I promise you. I am sure it is just a misunderstanding of sorts.”
“I hope so, Lizzy. I do hope so,” Mrs. Bennet said in a weak voice.
Elizabeth leaned to kiss her cheek and quietly left the room.
***
From midday, on the day when Mr. Darcy was to come back from London, Elizabeth impatiently awaited his visit. She sat near the window in order to see who was coming, calmly bearing the teasing of her younger sisters, who joked that she awaited her admirer. The sale of Purvis Lodge seemed to be a fact. Elizabeth had walked by the place earlier in the morning and had seen that the doors and windows had been opened wide, with servants working, putting the house into order.
The more she thought about the matter, the more she was convinced that Mr. Darcy had not told Mr. Bingley about their courtship, about his intentions toward her. Her suspicion was that Mr. Darcy still considered Jane not good enough for his friend and tried to keep Mr. Bingley away, not informing him of his stay in Hertfordshire. Such reasoning on Mr. Darcy’s part did not make much sense to Elizabeth. After all, he had decided to marry her, and since she was Jane’s sister, they belonged to the same family. If she was good enough for Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, her sister should be considered an appropriate match for his friend. For certain, not all of Mr. Darcy’s actions could have been easily explained.