Longbourn to London

by Beutler Linda

  “Surely you know I do not forbid it, and other than your dear self, who is there to hear?”

  She had not withdrawn or stepped away from his touch and his hand still caressed her neck. “If you were to absolutely insist, I would not resist you in any way should you attempt such a liberty again.”

  He smiled slightly and leaned his forehead against hers. “Elizabeth.”

  “Fitzwilliam.” She said his given name for the first time.

  “Dearest Elizabeth.”

  “Dearest Fitzwilliam.”

  He pursued his fondest impulse, and enjoyed her lips again. They were already parted, ready to respond to any new stimulation. He found himself sucking her plump lower lip into his mouth, tasting it fully. Elizabeth gasped faintly but he persisted.

  Elizabeth had been aware of his reluctance to kiss her these last five days despite several opportunities. She felt light with relief that he was finally kissing her, and she savoured the moment. Oh goodness! Was anything ever more heavenly? Her breathing grew rapid, and she dared to lean towards him as his thumbs stroked her earlobes. She was lost in appreciation of the strong sensations previously unknown to her when suddenly her awareness was drawn to how easily she might be seduced by her feelings. Slowly she began to back away, and Darcy gently released her lip.

  Their eyes opened and they smiled.

  “I am in some danger from you, Fitzwilliam Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her eyes laughing.

  “Surely not, Miss Bennet, surely not. I would not have you fear for your virtue.”

  Instantly serious, she whispered, “I do not fear for my virtue, Fitzwilliam. I trust you with that. The danger is to my soul.” She caught his sleeves, resting her cheek on his lapel, and felt him draw in a deep breath.

  “Your virtue, your love, and even your soul, I hope, will all be safe with me. Now that you have consented to be my wife, it is my duty to protect you, and all that is yours. Your soul is your own, Elizabeth, but I shall guard it.”

  She smiled against his coat. Now that he has let down his guard, he says the most astonishing things. How am I to remember them all?

  Darcy put his hands around her back and held her. Elizabeth turned her head and looked at his hat, wishing she knew what was allowed. She longed to run her hands through his hair. As she pondered what latitude she might have, the corner of her lower lip was caught by her upper teeth.

  This habitual pose of her lips when she was concentrating or trying not to smile had long been a pressing source of temptation to Darcy. He surrendered to the desire that beset him from nearly their first meeting and placed his lips on hers, teasing her lower lip free with his tongue, then their mouths met properly for further exploration.

  “Oh!” Elizabeth seemed disappointed when he released her.

  Darcy gazed into her dark eyes and smiled, indicating he read her response to this escalation of their intimacy quite clearly. He knew very well that he had left her wanting more. He was profoundly happy with his restraint and her responses. She would follow where he would lead. All had gone extremely well.

  Elizabeth took his hand, and they started to walk. “I must admit, Fitzwilliam, I had begun to wonder why you had not sought my favours before now.”

  “You must acknowledge that, given past responses to requests for your affection, I would wait until I could be more certain of your…agreement.”

  “Oh, dear. Did my ill-mannered behaviour at Hunsford make you timid?”

  “Shall I tell you what resolved me to act today?” His tone was decidedly conspiratorial.

  “Please do!” She sounded intrigued as she embraced his arm.

  “I should not tell you this, but I spied your sister and Bingley in a rather ardent embrace yesterday while she was waiting to depart after taking tea with Miss Bingley.”

  “You are certain it was my sister?” She laughed. “Bingley has the advantage of us, I suppose. They have been engaged at least ten days longer than we.”

  “If we apply ourselves, Elizabeth, do you think we can catch them?” Darcy was joyful and in a mood to tease.

  “Would that please you, sir?”

  “Indeed, and I hope it would please you, madam. Let me compliment you again upon your early efforts.”

  “You will find I respond uncommonly well to praise.”

  “Is that so?” He looked upon her as they strolled with their hands swinging between them. He was a man quite delighted with what he saw. She seemed in easy spirits. He looked ahead and felt his heart expanding. He grinned. I, of all men, am making Elizabeth Bennet happy. Will wonders never cease?

  “Look at you, so pleased with yourself. You look like the cat that stole the cream.” She scolded him but could not suppress a melodious chuckle.

  “Yes, it is true. I am pleased with myself because I have pleased you. That is something few men can say. ‘I have pleased Miss Elizabeth Bennet.’ Who else can say that with any truth? No one but me, I hope.”

  “Yes, yes. This once I shall allow you to be full of yourself. I am too happy for censure.”

  They continued to stroll in companionable silence. Finally, Elizabeth began to speak of her original topic. “Invitations are arriving for us, Mr.—ah!—Fitzwilliam. One is quite remarkable.”

  “How so?”

  “Mrs. Long is determined, given my love of the outdoors, to hold a garden party in our honour on Sunday week. In November! It seems quite daft and very sweet, but she certainly tempts fate.”

  “Indeed she does. I remember last autumn, before the ball at Netherfield, there were many days of rain one after another. Perhaps a week of it?”

  “I remember! The Hertfordshire autumn rains are due at any time, but she is requesting muslin gowns and frock coats. We shall all freeze, but I think we should accept the invitation. It will be diverting in any case.”

  They laughed and Darcy recalled the muslin dress she wore when he came upon her unexpectedly at Pemberley in July. As Elizabeth was walking with her aunt by the trout stream and into the sun, the shape of her legs could be seen through her summer gown. The remembrance held a smile on his lips. Elizabeth was speaking of other social engagements to come, and again Darcy’s thoughts tended towards activities they would not do in company.

  His mind wandered through the Pemberley woods to places he knew she would like. He wondered whether she would be willing to join with him in the open air. There are a million places. He imagined riding to remote vistas with a bottle of May wine and a blanket in his saddlebag.

  “Do you ride, Elizabeth?” He blurted his question, quite interrupting her.

  She stopped and looked at him quizzically. “This is a new tendency, Mr. Darcy, not to attend me when I speak. Do not think I have failed to notice. It is not an altogether pleasing habit to form, I must say. Your mind does wander.”

  “Yes, but you were with me where I wandered.”

  “Oh? And where were we?” Her eyes sparkled, her expression impertinent.

  “We were riding through the Pemberley woods to the distant places that cannot be reached on foot.” He imagined her hair wild and loose, a riding habit pulled to her thighs as she lay upon a blanket with a decidedly come-hither look in her eyes.

  “Ah, and that begged the question… I see. Well, sir, I have only ridden our Nellie. She will not gallop nor even cantor. Now you will think me unaccomplished.”

  “Nonsense. It is merely one additional activity with which I shall have the pleasure of acquainting you. I believe you will look quite smart in a dark blue riding habit, or perhaps dark green?”

  “Additional activity? In addition to what other activity?”

  Darcy was stunned, and his face coloured vividly from his cravat to the brim of his hat. He looked down, mortified by what he had implied. But what would she infer? Any other woman would have been distracted by the offer of new clothes, but not my Elizabeth, oh, no… How carefully must I mind what I say for the next few weeks? Oh, damn.

  Elizabeth watched his blush. He could not m
eet her eyes at first, but then he looked at her with a longing to be forgiven for some unknown infraction. She cocked her head to meet his gaze. What activity can he mean? He is a map of embarrassment. What…? Ooh! Elizabeth started to blush. Oh! He is referring to acquainting me with marital relations, I think. What else could possibly cause him to blush? He implies it is an activity he knows but which I do not. On a horse? No, surely not. Someplace where we can only go by horse to engage in such an activity? Elizabeth regarded him with confusion. She gave her head a little shake to no avail. Her thoughts would not proceed in any logical manner.

  Darcy heaved a great sigh. “Elizabeth, you must accept my apologies. I have discomfited us both. Please let us confine our thoughts to simply this: you have not had much occasion to ride, and I enjoy it. I would share something with you that gives me joy. I shall find a good horse for you at Pemberley next spring—an animal you can trust—and I shall teach you to ride…that is, if you are willing.”

  “Yes… yes, certainly, sir. I have no objection to improving my skill with horses.” She turned her head away and smiled, saying, “Indeed, I look forward to instruction from you in many things.”

  Darcy looked in the opposite direction, his blush remaining. He took her hand and they turned towards Longbourn, his horse following them peaceably if ironically.

  Chapter 2

  Unsolicited Advice

  “Marry, sir, they have committed false report; moreover, they have spoken untruths; secondarily, they are slanders; sixth and lastly, they have belied a lady; thirdly, they have verified unjust things; and, to conclude, they are lying knaves.

  William Shakespeare

  Much Ado about Nothing

  Darcy did not kiss her again on that occasion, but he thought Elizabeth’s welcome more than usually friendly—and was relieved to receive it— when he arrived at Longbourn for a scheduled visit later that afternoon.

  Jane and Mrs. Bennet were in Meryton helping Catherine Bennet, called Kitty within the family circle, select fabric for a new gown. Because Elizabeth and Jane were standing up together, they were each ipso facto the bridesmaid for the other, and what with Kitty’s favourite sister, Mrs. Lydia Wickham, married while away from the family, Kitty was feeling the opportunity to be a charming and important bridesmaid slipping away. Jane and Elizabeth suggested a new gown to raise her spirits, and Mrs. Bennet was happy to help any of her daughters acquire new clothes.

  Mr. Bennet emerged from his library when Darcy arrived. The need to chaperon his Lizzy was an unaccustomed impulse, and he fidgeted with a newspaper in his drawing room chair while Elizabeth acquainted Darcy with the volume of invitations she had received.

  “I have divided them into stacks, the first being those we need not accept.”

  “Is there such a thing?” Mr. Bennet asked over a lowered corner of his paper. “I had thought a lady must accept all invitations.”

  “Indeed, sir!” Darcy smiled a little. “I am more interested in that pile than any other. I should make a study of how to extend an invitation into society in such a way as to have it not accepted, and then I shall give lessons to all of these others.”

  Mr. Bennet smiled and nodded. “Very wise, Mr. Darcy.”

  Elizabeth extended them an arch look. “Are you quite finished, the two of you?”

  Darcy said, “Proceed, Miss Elizabeth,” at the same time Mr. Bennet said, “Proceed, Lizzy.”

  She sighed.

  “Here is a pile of events I may attend without you.” She patted a short stack of cards.

  “Why without me? Who would not want me to grace their society?” Darcy feigned affront.

  “Well, there are people of my acquaintance who do not know you, and there are those who do, and that pretty much covers the whole of it.”

  Mr. Bennet laughed from behind his paper.

  “Mr. Bennet, I would not have you encourage your daughter’s impertinence. She torments me constantly already. I cannot think why I proposed to her.”

  Darcy was looking into Elizabeth’s eyes as he said the last sentence. He winked at her, and she smiled at him with unspoken praise. She liked that he was playing to her father.

  Mr. Bennet peeked over the paper and caught the exchange. “Perhaps, sir, men of your station require practice in the exercise, and you did not think of actually being accepted by a woman of such discernment as my Lizzy.”

  Mr. Bennet did not understand why they both burst into laughter. It took Elizabeth and Darcy several moments to regain their composure.

  Elizabeth finally calmed enough to address a third pile of invitations. “In this pile are the invitations extended to us both. These, I think, we ought to accept. I would like to discuss them.”

  The presence of Mr. Bennet allowed for candour, but his wry comments about their neighbours were also a distraction. Within moments, Elizabeth perceived she would not get far in the pursuit of dissecting social engagements. She also perceived that Darcy would follow her lead amongst Meryton society, trusting her to help him avoid the silliest and most ignorant; those who would too profoundly try his forbearance had already been trying hers for a good many years. Elizabeth relented, allowing her father and her betrothed to make sport with her plans.

  That evening, Darcy and Bingley took a family dinner at Longbourn, into which much planning had gone to give the meal an unstudied air. Mr. Bennet had begun to join the two couples as they awaited the men’s horses or carriage under the modest Longbourn portico, and Darcy was vexed when no further opportunity to kiss Elizabeth would be immediately forthcoming. As Jane and Elizabeth took their father’s proffered arms to return indoors, they noted a certain amused smugness in his expression that neither daughter quite liked.

  ***

  The next afternoon brought a party at the Phillips’s apartment in Meryton. Mrs. Phillips was Mrs. Bennet’s elder sister and not a pleasant woman. She shared her sister’s fits of nerves, and her lack of education amounted to a carefully cultivated ignorance of world events or anything that might be called science. Add to this her prurient interest in marital relations, a will to be scandalised, and a tendency to strong drink, and one can easily comprehend Elizabeth’s inclination to become curt and quiet in her company.

  A number of local ladies had been invited to drink tea, and once everyone was assembled, the two eldest Bennets were alarmed to see they were the only unmarried ladies in attendance. They sat together on a small sofa surrounded by a phalanx of old family neighbours and acquaintances, all with one subject in mind.

  “You must never let your husband kiss your person anywhere but upon your mouth and cheeks, girls,” Mrs. Long advised. “I speak of the cheeks on your face, of course!” The ladies tittered like a demented Greek chorus.

  Jane closed her eyes and inhaled. Elizabeth opened her mouth to ask a question, became confused, and bit her tongue. Jane clutched her sister’s hand and shook her head subtly, imploring Elizabeth to remain silent.

  Mrs. Phillips continued the dispensing of advice. “And never, ever, under any circumstance, should you ever let them know you find any night time occurrence pleasurable. If you do, they will be at you constantly with the excuse that you wish it. They will find any opportunity to…impose themselves. I do feel especially sorry for you, Lizzy, as I think Mr. Bingley can be managed, but how you are to control a man who looks at you as Mr. Darcy does, well, I am sure I do not know. Perhaps you may establish a sitting room for yourself where your privacy must be maintained, as Charlotte Collins has done. But I despair for you, Lizzy. You will have your hands full to overflowing, I should think.” At this last remark, the married ladies giggled raucously.

  “Oh yes!” cried Mrs. Goulding. “Just look at his hands and feet.”

  “His hands and feet?” Elizabeth asked and immediately wished she had not. Jane squeezed her hand in mortified disapprobation.

  “Big hands, big feet, big cock!” crowed Aunt Phillips.

  The shrill laughter grew louder. Even Mrs. Bennet was laughing at h
er daughters’ embarrassment.

  By the end of two hours, Jane and Elizabeth were irretrievably out of temper. When the Bennet carriage arrived, they would not ride in it and instead chose to walk home to avoid further commentary from their mother. After marching along in silence half the distance to Longbourn, Jane began to express some gentler explanation of the proceedings. “Did you notice our aunt dribbling something from a flask into her tea? I cannot imagine she would have spoken as she did if she were entirely sober.”

  “That is some excuse for our aunt, though a poor one, but what of the others? What of our mother! How can I face any of them knowing they think so ill of Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth’s pace quickened. “There is nothing you can say, Jane—nothing—to explain such a display of vulgarity.”

  “I must tell you, Lizzy, it was their…glee that was most inexplicable. I cannot account for it. They knew we were made uncomfortable. Yet the more they saw our embarrassment, the more they hectored.”

  “It was as if by design, Jane.”

  “Oh, no, Lizzy, I cannot think so.”

  Elizabeth pulled off her right glove, displaying her hand covered with the imprints of Jane’s fingernails. “Think well of them if you wish, but I know what you felt through the whole of it.”

  ***

  The Bennet family dined at Netherfield that night. Again, there was no convenient occasion for either couple to be alone for more than a moment. But Elizabeth was not formed for ill-humour, and being with Darcy produced an easing of her temper.

  Early the next morning, Elizabeth hoped to take a walk, but was, with Jane, purloined by their mother, who had awakened in an excitable state. Mrs. Bennet was in the mood for list making, noting every nuance of the coming nuptials with which her daughters must, at that very instant, familiarise themselves.

  Since Darcy and Bingley had invited a few local young men to Netherfield that evening to learn billiards, Elizabeth and Jane attended an impromptu soiree at Lucas Lodge. Before the card tables were brought, the two eldest Bennets found themselves in another group of married women where they were again subjected to the improper ravings of their aunt, abetted by wine punch taken to excess. The more she drank, the more lurid grew her tales, until even Mrs. Bennet blushed and herded her daughters to the card tables.