“Because she is so shy?”
“Because she has never been herself again since Wickham got his claws into her,” he said with deep bitterness. “She was always somewhat timid, but never like this. You must have noticed—she hardly says a word to anyone, she almost never smiles, she picks at her food and does not sleep at night. All she does is play the pianoforte, and even that she feels as if she does badly. I have kept hoping this would pass, but it has been almost two years now. I could kill him for this.”
“I had not realized it was such a change for her,” said Elizabeth, with concern as much for Darcy as for Georgiana. “Does she say what is troubling her?”
“No; whenever I have tried to speak of what happened, she does nothing but apologize for all the trouble she caused, and for being a fool, and she will not listen no matter how often I tell her it was not her fault, and that I do not blame her.” He sighed again, tightening his arms around Elizabeth. “I have tried everything I can think of—I have tried keeping her with me and paying more attention to her, I have tried leaving her to herself, thinking that my presence might remind her of Wickham, I have kept her away from people who might accidentally hurt her feelings, even when it has meant offending relations—I have done everything I could think of that might bring her happiness, and nothing has seemed to relieve her grief for more than a day or two. I had hoped she might take a liking to you, but she has been just as quiet as ever since coming to Netherfield.”
“I have not made it easy for her to become acquainted with me,” said Elizabeth slowly, feeling guilty both for this and for never having wondered whether Darcy might have concerns outside of her. “I thought it a complication we did not need, but if you would like me to try, I will.”
“I would be grateful for any assistance or advice,” he replied.
She thought he sounded somewhat relieved. Nestling closer to him, she said, “I cannot promise any results, but I will try—William.”
“Thank you, my dearest,” he said, moved by hearing his name from her lips. He found her mouth again and soothed himself in the pleasure he could find in her, and she was happy to assist in the process.
Chapter 7
Darcy was unsurprised to discover Colonel Fitzwilliam waiting in his room for him that afternoon. It did not take any great skill in detection to discern that the usually affable Colonel was furious with him. Darcy greeted him cautiously, already bracing himself for the lecture to come.
He did not have long to wait. His cousin had clearly been awaiting his opportunity. “Darcy, what in God’s name is wrong with you?”
Darcy threw himself down into a chair. “You go ahead and tell me—that will save time, don’t you think?” he said wearily.
“If you think you can distract me into feeling sorry for you this time, Darcy, you are wrong! I cannot imagine what your father would say to you if he were still alive. I am hardly even sure what I am angrier with you about—trifling with a girl like Miss Bennet, humiliating her like that in front of me, or bringing Georgiana under the same roof as your mistress. Good God, Darcy, what have you been thinking? Is this why Miss Bennet no longer lives with her parents—so that she can be more conveniently available to you?” His tone was cutting. “Unfortunately, I cannot do a damned thing about you ruining Miss Bennet, but by God, I am taking Georgiana away from here!”
His cousin’s words snapped Darcy out of his lethargy. “She is not my mistress, damn it!”
“I suppose next you will tell me there is nothing between the two of you. I did not leave the nursery yesterday, Darcy,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam in disgust. “I know what it means when a woman tolerates behaviour like yours.”
Darcy closed his eyes. A violent disagreement with his cousin, especially one in which he was so clearly in the wrong, was the last thing he needed at the moment. “I do not deny having strong feelings for Elizabeth, but it is… complicated.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam snorted. “Elizabeth, is it? And I fail to see what is so complicated about it—if you will not marry her, then leave her alone—do not ruin her life for your amusement!”
Darcy laughed bitterly. “You have this completely backwards, my friend. I want to marry her—but she will not have me.”
There was a moment of silence. Finally the colonel said carefully, “I find this rather difficult to credit—first, that you would consider marrying a woman with no fortune or connections, and if you did, why in God’s name would she refuse you? You are the kind of catch a girl like her grows up dreaming about! I saw how she looked at you. You will have to come up with a better excuse than that one.”
“She is not most women, Richard. I will not trouble you with the sad history, but I can assure you that my fortune means nothing to her. As for why she will not marry me, she fears it would ruin me socially.”
“Ruin you? Why would she think that? Raise a few eyebrows, I am sure, but no more.”
“I tend to agree with you, in fact, but unfortunately she sees it otherwise. It is not just her lack of status which concerns her—she has a broken engagement behind her, and a sister who disgraced herself by running off with none other than our old friend Wickham, and when they finally were married, it was a patched-up affair. That is why she thinks I should not marry her.”
“I am sorry to say this,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam slowly, “but she has a good point.”
“Nonsense!” snapped Darcy. “She has done nothing wrong, and has behaved admirably throughout.”
“I did not say otherwise, but society will not see it so. Marry Wickham’s sister? You cannot do it,” he said firmly. “I suppose you were involved in that ‘patched-up affair’?”
Darcy hesitated, then said, “I was, but Elizabeth does not know, and I would like it to remain that way.”
“How much did that scoundrel cost you this time?”
“Enough, but I can afford it.”
His cousin shook his head.
“And I will marry her,” said Darcy defiantly.
“Well, I know better than to argue with you when your mind is made up, but for your sake, I hope she stands her ground. I must say I admire her for putting your welfare ahead of her own, though if any woman would, I am not surprised it is her.”
“And you wonder why I want to marry her?”
“No,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said slowly. “I do not wonder about that at all.”
The two men eyed one another for a moment, then Darcy said in a more normal voice, “Do you still object to Georgiana’s presence here? I would like her to have the opportunity to get to know Elizabeth.”
“Good God, Darcy, are you actually asking my opinion? There is a first time for everything!”
Darcy was ready with a heated retort, then thought of Elizabeth. “I am sorry if you have felt as if I do not value your opinion, because I certainly do,” he said, as close to humility as he could manage at the moment. “It is not my intention to be arrogant.”
The colonel looked askance at him. “Darcy, I did not say you were arrogant, though you are in the habit of doing whatever you please.”
“You may save your breath—I have had this lecture from Elizabeth already, and believe me, she did not mince her words,” said Darcy wearily.
“I already told you not to try to enlist my sympathies—I will not feel sorry for you this time, nor will I let you have your way because of it!”
Darcy looked at him in shock. His cousin had never before spoken to him in such a before, nor in such a tone of anger. “Are you suggesting I am playing for sympathy?” he said, his voice dangerous.
“You always do when things do not go your way, and it usually works, though God knows I cannot think of anyone who is less deserving of sympathy! You have everything a man could want in life.”
“Not quite—I do not have the woman I love.”
“It certainly looked to me as if you had her,
” snapped his cousin.
“Have we not already had this discussion?” Darcy asked.
“There you go again—so she will not marry you, yet you feel sorry for yourself instead of thinking of how fortunate you are for having won her affections.”
“Your point is well taken,” said Darcy slowly, “although, believe me, I am far from taking her affection for granted. I expect every day to hear that she has changed her mind and dislikes me again, which is why I do not manage myself at all well when other men smile at her.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam looked hard at him, hearing the implicit apology. “You have finally found someone who can make you doubt yourself,” he said in disbelief.
Darcy had taken quite enough of this. “That is not news—and, to save you the trouble of saying it, I know perfectly well that I do not deserve her,” he said in a hostile voice. “However, I admit I had not known you thought quite so little of me. Excuse me.” He stood and headed for the door.
“Oh, for God’s sake, Darcy,” Colonel Fitzwilliam in a disgusted voice. “You know better than that.”
Darcy stopped but did not turn around. Closing his eyes, he said in a dangerously level voice, “You have no idea, Richard, what this last year has been like—no idea at all. If I have her good opinion now, by God, she has made me earn it. And I am not looking for sympathy; I know I am a better man for it, and have only her to thank.”
There was a pause. “I see,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had not been oblivious to the frequency of his cousin’s black moods in the last year.
Darcy tried to consider what Elizabeth would want him to do in this setting. Finally he turned and said as calmly as he could, “I do not want to be at odds with you over this, Richard. Is it possible for us to agree to disagree on whether a marriage with her is suitable or not? And if you feel it is necessary to take Georgiana away, I will not argue with you, although I do not think there is reason for it.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam did not know what to make of this unheard-of capitulation from Darcy. Clearly Miss Bennet had quite an influence on him, to produce such change as this. “Fair enough, William,” he said. “I will not stand in your way, but please, be careful with Miss Bennet’s reputation. Not everyone knows you as well as I do.”
Darcy did not disagree, and they managed to part on a more amicable basis than had seemed possible just a few minutes earlier.
The conversation had left Darcy with a good deal to think about. He was not pleased with the picture his cousin had painted of him, and in that it did not disagree with Elizabeth’s judgements of him at Hunsford in describing his arrogance, it was even more painful. He was rather more offended by the description of him as self-pitying; he certainly did not want to be seen as a petulant child, however, he could understand how his cousin would think he did not count his blessings enough. It must be difficult for him to lack the secure future Darcy had by right of birth, nor could he ever have the opportunity to consider marrying for love as Darcy could, and that must be bitter.
The greater problem, however, lay with Elizabeth. This afternoon’s events had demonstrated how unstable the situation had become between them. It was past time for patience; they needed a resolution, and quickly. There was only one outcome acceptable to him, and the question lay in how to achieve it. The simplest method would be to allow them to be found in a compromising position—this would be easy enough to manage, and might well happen by itself sooner or later given their relatively unguarded behaviour, especially if his self-control remained as poor as it had earlier. However, that would only cause further harm to her reputation, and, while he was not concerned about it for himself, he had seen how much the events of the last year had eroded her native self-confidence into a shadow of its former self. Further scandal would only add to the burden he wished to lessen.
Less honourable was the possibility of seducing her. Instinctively he knew it was within his power, and the idea certainly had a strong appeal of its own for him, but would it accomplish his goal? Any other woman would feel she had to marry him, but Elizabeth was just determined enough that she might continue to refuse him, even under those circumstances. Then he would truly be caught in an impossible dilemma—he would never be able to forgive himself for treating her as his mistress, nor could he ever imagine abandoning her. No, that plan was too dangerous as well.
He paced the room as he considered how else he might force the issue. Could the support of Bingley or her sister be helpful? Perhaps he should speak to them. Elizabeth would be angry, of course, but he would have to take that risk. But Bingley might also be unhappy about his efforts to pressure Elizabeth.
It occurred to him that he did have a natural ally in this matter though, and perhaps it was time to bring him into play. An idea suddenly came to him, and the more he thought about it, the more certain he became that it was the best course of action for him. It only remained to wait until the next morning to set it into action.
***
He was looking for Elizabeth, but could not find her anywhere. She was not in the sitting room, the garden, the solarium, or any of her usual haunts. He even became so desperate to see her that he asked Mrs. Bingley if she knew her sister’s whereabouts, but that was unsuccessful as well.
Finally he went to his last possibility, and stood for a moment in front of her bedroom door. Perhaps she was resting—he would not wish to awaken her, so he slipped in quietly to the room he had longed every night to enter. She was not in her bed, though his eyes continued to rest on it for a few moments, thinking of all the times he had imagined being in it with her. Then he heard a sound, and looked to her dressing room where he saw the astonishing sight of Elizabeth, sitting in the bath, her back to him, her bared shoulders exposed to his hungry eyes.
She was not aware of his presence. He longed to approach her, but he could not take advantage of her in that way, so instead he spoke her name. She turned her head quickly, looking startled, but her eyes softened when she saw him and a smile touched her lips. He walked towards her and knelt behind the bath, and began to place featherlight kisses along her neck and down the exposed top of her spine.
“William,” she whispered longingly. Inspired, he took the soap from beside the tub and lathered his hands, then began to wash her shoulders, moving slowly as he caressed every inch of them. He felt her relax under his ministrations, and he moved his soapy hands down her arms, one at a time, continuing to pay careful attention to his task. His cuffs were wet by the time he had reached her hands, and he did not intend to stop there, so he stripped off his coat, waistcoat, and shirt, and threw them to the side.
He saw a look of hunger in her eyes as she looked at him, and he pressed his chest against her shoulders, glorying in the feeling of his skin against hers. But he wanted more, and he reached for the soap once more. This time his hands started again at her shoulders, but then slid down her chest, thoroughly exploring her tender skin until they began to circle her breasts. Elizabeth lay her head back against him with a sigh of pleasure as his hands circled inwards, delighting in the feel of her. Finally he reached her nipples, already waiting for his touch, and as he began to stroke them, she arched up against his fingers. Her eyes closed, and she began to moan softly as he caressed her.
Soon, soon he would make her his, but first he would have her pleasure. He released one breast and slid his hand downwards, closer and closer until it finally covered her secret places. With a cry, she began to move against him, whimpering with escalating urgency. His hunger for her grew ever deeper as he took in her response, until finally she acknowledged his power by cresting over the final edge. Only then, as her body ceased to tremble, did he take her mouth, plundering its depths for his pleasure.
When she finally lay still, he drew her out of the bath and dried her tenderly with the towel, not missing a drop as he moved from her head to her feet. To his deep delight, she took his hand and led him to her bed. She lay up
on it, smiling at him archly, her body exposed in its entirety to him as he stripped off the last of his clothes and took his place upon her. Finally, at last, he entered her, gently finding his way through her last barrier until he was deep within her, ecstatic in the feeling of her. As she whispered his name, he thrust into her again and again, his body taking over as his pleasure grew beyond reason, and finally, as a wave of infinite satisfaction took him, he spilled his seed within her. His last memory was her voice, whispering tenderly, “How I love you, my dearest William.”
***
It was a matter of some mystery to Darcy how it was he could sit across from Elizabeth at breakfast, calmly buttering his bread, as if he had not just awoken from a sleep filled with dreams of making love to her in exquisite detail, of taking intimacies even beyond those which passed between many married couples, of exploring the delights of her body, and having her want him as much as he did her. He did not want to imagine what she would think of him if she knew where his thoughts tended. She certainly would not be able to direct her arch smiles in his direction in such an innocent manner.
It was probably just as well they had no opportunity for private conversation, he thought. Directly following breakfast he went riding, determined to lose no time in putting his plans into action. Before he departed, he gave her a long, serious look to which she responded with an impudent smile.
Elizabeth, in conversation with Jane, barely had time to acknowledge Miss Darcy excusing herself for yet more practice at the pianoforte. It is easy to see where she obtains her proficiency! thought Elizabeth with some admiration; she would not have minded having some of the same drive towards perfecting a skill, but her conversation with Darcy had also made her look at Georgiana with different eyes, and she could see why he worried about her.
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