“Er, exactly how old are you?” he asked. She smiled.
“Worried? I’m over eighteen,” she said. Unbeknownst to her, that comment stirred an unpleasant memory but he quickly pushed it aside.
“I’m having concerns that I am seriously corrupting you.”
“I am 28.” He grimaced a little; she was only 3 years older that Georgie!
She asked him about his racing days. “My father hated it. I didn’t realize it at the time but he was really concerned for my safety. I thought he was just being overbearing so I rebelled and raced more. Then I had a bad crash and, miraculously, came away with only a broken leg. My father met me at the hospital and was very worried about me. Then when I was home recovering, he had a long talk with me. He told me that he was not going to live forever and that I had to take care of Georgiana, that I couldn’t afford to take these stupid risks. I think he knew then that he had cancer but didn’t tell us. But it rattled me enough to quit racing and set about becoming serious again. I became a barrister and he died shortly after.”
Between conversations, they made love. It was not always a full consummation; sometimes he would just kiss her arms and stroke her breasts; sometimes he placed himself inside her just to feel her around him and no more. Other times, it seemed to go beyond physical consummation. He watched with trembling limbs as she gave him the love she suggested Jane had so often given Bingley, her head bobbing gently at his waist as he lay on the bed. He touched her head lightly and told her she didn’t have to; she looked up at him and held his gaze while she took him into her mouth. He was lost, unable to control the gasping sounds surging from his chest, shaking fingers twined in her hair, begging her not to stop. He could not remember the last time he had enjoyed the act so much, if ever. Later, he covered her back with kisses, insistent on marking her as his, leaving bite-sized bruises on her low back as he sucked her fair skin into his mouth.
As dusk began to settle in, she nestled in his arms at last, each completely physically exhausted.
“Aren’t you worried about my getting pregnant?” she asked him.
Nothing would give me greater pleasure, he thought. She looked up at him and he gave her a dreamy smile and shrugged.
She laughed gently. “I’m on the injection, just so you know. I wouldn’t dream of tracking you down six years from now looking for child support.”
His thoughts turned black at the thought that she would need to track him down in six years but he said nothing.
“And I do have a clean bill of health, I have always been very careful. You make me impulsive,” she continued.
I make you impulsive? he thought ironically. Still, he said nothing.
“And I have every confidence that as fastidious as you are, you also have a clean bill of health.”
He nodded silently. What does it matter now if I have a raging case of syphilis?
She looked up at him again and laughed softly. “You are very quiet,” she said. “I...”
“Shhh,” he said softly. “Just be.” He closed his eyes and tightened his arms around her. She snuggled in deeper and sighed contentedly.
June 13 - Thursday
Darcy could see now, clearly, that he had been badly mistaken in his hope that a two-week fling with Elizabeth could quench his desire for her. He now fully realized that he was in love with her, as impossible as it seemed. How could he feel so strongly about her in such a short amount of time? Granted, he had admired her from afar for months, both physically and personally, but this was insane! How could he, after only two weeks, be ready to spend the rest of his life with her? He tried to analyze the situation, to see if he was in the throes of infatuation.
She was more than just smart, she was quick and witty. She was funny. She had an affection for her sister that was becoming. She was a little on the adventurous side but not uncomfortably so. She was open-minded to new things, new ideas, and different viewpoints. She had her own opinions but didn’t dismiss those of others. She was warm to nearly everybody she met; she had a tendency to flirt with just about everyone. What she didn’t know about a topic, she was eager to learn. It was her intelligence and wit that drew him to her in the first place but her openness and humor that held his attention.
And her damnably warm, sultry, laughing eyes. Yes, she had a lovely body, soft and warm when it pressed against his. Yes, she had a wild mane of uncontrolled curls that usually wound up in his mouth at some point. Yes, she was a generous and eager lover. But it was her eyes, always her eyes that held him.
He watched her as she slept beside him. It was four a.m. and he was having trouble sleeping. She was radiating heat; her butt was like a furnace, getting warmer as the night drew on. Many times over the last 2 weeks he had snuggled up to that warmth when the cold night air crept in through the window. He thought she’d be the perfect bed warmer on those many, many chilly nights in this drafty house. Not that it had to be cold for him to want her at his side.
God help me, I don’t want it to end, he thought. She knew him as well as anyone in his family, as well as Bingley knew him. He felt comfortable with her, safe. He felt like he could tell her anything... except how he felt about her. Except that he wanted her to quit her job and stay here with him forever. He had no illusions; this was no fairy tale, this was real. This was his home, he wasn’t playing house or make-believe. But perhaps for her it was different, the holiday syndrome where outrageous behavior was excused. Perhaps she could tune him out when they stepped off the plane. The thought gave him a bitter taste in his mouth.
He rose from the bed and went to the window seat overlooking the lake. It was still dark out and the moon was not in sight. He sat on the cushioned bench and drew his knees up to his chest. He sat at the window for some time, contemplating his situation. Not only would he have to end his relationship with her but he’d have to keep its existence secret from everyone. And he’d have to see her every day at work, in the building, in the parking lot, in the cafeteria. Not to mention that Jane and Bingley were definitely on; they would undoubtedly continue to cross paths through them. This was going to be very, very difficult.
How had he got into this mess?
He heard a rustle and looked toward the bed. Elizabeth sat up and looked around, disoriented.
“I’m here,” he said softly. She turned her head toward him. After a moment, she got out of bed and went to him, drawing a blanket behind her. He smiled slightly as she draped it over his shoulders wordlessly and then settled onto the seat between his legs, pressing her warm back against his chest. He drew the ends of the blanket around them and held her close.
They sat together in silence as fingers of sunshine began to creep over the horizon. He put his face into the crook of her neck and let his breath warm her shoulder; she nestled her head against his. He kissed her neck briefly then put his lips to her ear.
“I don’t want this to end,” he whispered. He was asking her, making a tentative proposal that it didn’t have to end.
But she did not understand. She thought he was expressing the same sentiment that she was feeling: the wish that this vacation could go on forever. The thought that perhaps his feelings matched her own, that he loved her, was impossible to her. This was a two week fling that she would never regret but that she would always regret at the same time. She had passed her hand through the flame and been burned.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she replied miserably.
He chickened out. He was a persistent man, yes, but he would not ruin the remaining two days of their vacation trying to convince her to continue to see him when they got back. He would wait until they got back.
He put his chin on the top of her head and closed his eyes. He would think of something.
***
True to her word, Elizabeth did not want to talk about the impending end of their vacation. She pushed all thoughts of it from her mind, refused to engage Darcy in any discussion of it. She tried to ignore Jane and Bingley’s excited talk of the sto
ries they would share with their coworkers upon their return. She did not have that happy option; she could not even confide in Charlotte Lucas of a wild affair. Lou would have to be her only comfort.
She spent the day drinking in every last sensation that she could. She studied Darcy carefully so that she could remember every intimate detail of his body, of his laugh, the taste of his lips, and the mossy smell of his skin. She spent an inordinate amount of time looking at him when she thought he was not aware. She engaged him on a solitary walk where they held hands. They sat at the edge of the lake together and she threw bread to the swans.
Darcy was already saturated with her. Every thought, every smell, every sound somehow wound itself back to her. Most of the day was spent not in conversation but in soulful, wishing glances. He held her more than he usually did, kissed her often even before Mrs. Reynolds or the household staff. Such a display would normally be distasteful to him but frankly he wouldn’t waste a single second on such considerations now. He had to get his fill while he could.
And so the day passed far too quickly for each and they retired early to be alone and to drown in each other once again.
June 14 - Friday
The last day of their vacation arrived without welcome. Elizabeth was coiled with nervous tension and Darcy was called away for much of the day to meet with his staff on closing the house and approving business in his absence until his next return.
Bingley drove in to London for reasons unknown, leaving Jane and Elizabeth alone for the day. Jane noted Elizabeth to be uncommonly quiet and pensive. She did not respond to Jane’s teases or questions. She seemed preoccupied. Jane correctly assumed that Elizabeth was having serious doubts about her relationship with Darcy but whether it was regret or desire to continue or how to disentangle herself, Jane could not tell. For the first time ever, she felt unable to read her sister. And for the first time ever, she felt it better not to try yet.
Darcy joined them briefly for lunch and they chatted amiably enough, though there was a strain in the air. Jane watched them closely and saw Elizabeth stop him in the hallway as he was about to return to his business in the study. She watched as Darcy gently caressed her sister’s face and kissed her with a warmth that could only mean that he loved her. She watched Elizabeth return the kiss with equal warmth. She watched him pull back and hold Elizabeth’s hand and say that he was sorry, that he would see her in a few hours. She watched as Elizabeth nodded and looked down with either shyness or sadness.
Bingley returned in time for dinner with Darcy, Jane, and Elizabeth. He was taken aside by Jane, who quietly told him that Elizabeth and Darcy seemed to be in some sort of trouble. He nodded. They agreed to watch their friends closely and provide what comfort they could.
He watched as Darcy and Elizabeth pretended to eat their dinner. He saw them give each other miserable glances but exchange no words. He watched Darcy rub the back of his neck in discomfort, saw Elizabeth look away and blink back her tears. Later, he overheard their soft exchange:
“Are you angry with me?” Darcy asked her. She looked at him with surprise.
“Of course not, how could I be?” She touched his hand on the table. He squeezed her hand tightly for a brief moment, then drew his hand away. They resumed their miserable silence until the dinner plates were cleared. Then they retired to their room to pack.
Elizabeth hardly paid attention to what was going into her suitcase. She was having a hard time keeping her composure. She couldn’t speak for fear of crying.
Darcy was packing robotically. He wanted to reach out to her, to hold her one last time but she seemed distant. Would they spend this last night together in cold silence? Would she even stay with him?
“Elizabeth,” he said behind her. She turned at the sound of his voice. He thought she looked fragile, her eyes wide and shiny. “Come here,” he said softly, holding his hand out to her. She went to him and he folded her in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his waist and he kissed the top of her head.
“Let’s not be distant on our last night,” he said into her hair. She looked up at him and finally, a tear slipped over her lashes. She did not sob or cry; she might not even have been aware of the tear had Darcy not wiped it away with his thumb. She closed her eyes and two more tears slipped out. She turned her face into his hand and kissed it.
Darcy cupped her face in his hands and kissed her cheeks. He felt his own throat tightening but absolutely forbid any prickling tears to come. He would not break down in front of her.
Somehow, their clothes were removed and they were entwined in bed but neither took much pleasure in their lovemaking. It was bittersweet, a desperate avoidance of the truth that this was the last time they would ever be together. Finally, Darcy entered her with something like a sob in his throat. He buried his face in her hair, gripped her body tightly with his fingers. She kissed him between her own hitches, trying mightily not to cry out loud, to scream that this couldn’t possibly be the end. She wrapped her arms around him like a drowning woman clinging to a lifeboat. He pushed deep into her and she heard him swallow hard. She heard his breath catch uncontrollably as he spilled into her. She lost her own composure when, finally, he whispered.
“I love you, Elizabeth. I love you.”
Chapter 15
June 15 - Saturday
All four checked into the airport together but Darcy had purchased a first-class ticket while the other three were in coach. She was disappointed when he stopped at his seat and she filed back to her own. A moment later, he reappeared and approached the gentleman beside her.
“Sir, I wonder if you would exchange seats with me so that I can sit next to my friend,” Darcy said to him, indicating Elizabeth. He was determined to squeeze every last moment with her from this trip. The man looked at Darcy and Elizabeth but did not want to give up his aisle seat.
“Where are you sitting?” he asked warily.
“In first class,” Darcy replied. He showed the man his ticket. Darcy thought the man may have had an accident in his pants, so excited was his reaction. He eagerly gave his seat to Darcy and practically ran to the front of the plane.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said as he sat next to her.
“Yes I did,” he replied simply. “The person next to me in first class wouldn’t exchange your seat even for a hefty bribe,” he grinned. “You can have the aisle if you want it,” he offered. It would be a hellish flight, coach seats simply were not made for one standing 6’4”. But he’d bear it cheerfully if it gave him a few more hours with her. She laughed at the thought of him squeezing even further into the row and shook her head.
“Thank you,” she said. He kissed her hand then her cheek, then her lips. She returned the kiss with some warmth but broke it off too soon for his liking. He lowered his head to her ear so that only she could hear him.
“It’s an eleven hour flight,” he said to her gently.
She nodded. “Yes, but around hour five is when we need to start breaking up,” she smiled sadly.
“But until then I’m still your lover,” he replied. He emphasized the statement by kissing her again, unabashedly in the middle of a packed international flight. He broke off only when he felt himself becoming aroused. He was not going to talk her into sex in the bathroom, he was quite sure. Maybe before but not today. She was clearly sad; maybe almost as sad as he was.
She put the armrest between them up and leaned her back into him. He turned in slightly and put his arms around her. They spent the majority of the flight in silence. True to her word, at around hour five, she pulled away from him and put down the armrest. She withdrew from him steadily for the rest of the flight and they both sunk into depressed silence.
***
The plane plunged to the landing strip followed closely by Elizabeth’s heart and stomach. It was a rough landing and Darcy had held her hand tightly but now he released it.
That’s it, it’s over, thought Darcy. Elizabeth could not bring herself to make a jok
e about the plane turning back into a pumpkin; she had barely spoken for the last 36 hours and wasn’t about to start now. Both filed out of the plane as if going to their death sentences.
Jane and Bingley watched them anxiously as they awaited their luggage at baggage claim. There was an unspoken agreement between them that they would swoop in for the rescue if needed. Darcy blindly watched the carousel spin, vaguely recognized Elizabeth’s bag and pulled it off for her.
“Let me drive you home,” he pleaded as she took the bag from him. She shook her head.
“No, it’s better this way.” She couldn’t meet his eyes with her own. She felt strangely ashamed, on top of the utter misery that settled in her chest. How in the world was she supposed to go on without him, to work with him as if nothing had ever happened? How could she have been so stupid to think it would be easy?
“Can I kiss you goodbye?” he asked. She shook her head and saw the pain in his face. He reached to touch a lock of her hair but she pulled away, avoiding the contact. She didn’t want to dissolve into tears here and didn’t know if she could master herself if he touched her. The lump in her throat was back so she just shook her head again. He pulled his hand back, hurt. This was really, really the end.
“Lizzy -” he began, his voice strangled. She cut him off with a shaky voice.
“Thank you for a wonderful time and for being such a wonderful host. Your Honor.”
She could not have stunned him more had she slapped him. They were back in reality and she had just crashed him unceremoniously through the gate. His face hardened and he nodded curtly. He bit back his hurt and anger. His mind began to go numb against the realization that it was definitely over. How was this happening? It would be easier to live without his vital organs than to go on without her; the heart was already gone in any event.
The Trials of the Honorable F. Darcy Page 16