by Ola Wegner
“I do not care whether you love her or not! You could have taken her as a mistress if you had to have her!”
Elizabeth did not dare to look at the people around her; she could only feel the heat rising in her cheeks, though her hands were icy cold and shaking violently.
“Ladies and gentleman, let us go out to the garden for some fresh air,” Mr. Bingley spoke in his rich voice, standing abruptly from his chair. “It is such a lovely day, and we all know how Mr. Bennet enjoyed the outdoors. Miss Bennet,” he turned to Jane, “shall we have tea on the terrace?”
Elizabeth lifted her eyes slowly to Mr. Bingley as he energetically led the stunned guests out of the room. Gradually, the room emptied. The servants, directed by Mrs. Bennet and Jane, moved a few smaller tables and the chairs, along with the refreshments, to the terrace.
Elizabeth did not join the others, but she followed the sounds of a heated argument coming from the library. As she stood by the door to the room which had once been her father’s sanctuary, she could clearly hear Lady Catherine’s voice again.
“Your poor mother is rolling in her grave! She wanted you to marry Anne.”
“She never said anything of the kind to me, neither she nor my father,” Darcy responded, his voice raised, but not as loud as his aunt’s. “They wanted me to have a happy life. They were a love match, and I do not see why I should not follow in their footsteps.”
“You think she loves you! Ha, ha! She wants you for your fortune and position! Do you think I did not notice how you stared after her every time she came to Rosings with the Collinses? But she never gave you a second look. She laughed and talked with Richard, but never with you. You fool. Are you blind? She is using you.”
Darcy answered something, but Elizabeth could not hear the exact words.
“Tell me,” Lady Catherine demanded. “Is she with child? I would not be surprised if you have already bedded her. If that is the case, you can send her away quietly, and even visit her and her little bastard from time to time. And should it be a boy, he could be raised as a gentleman, and if it is your wish, even given a small estate in the future. You do not need to abandon them, but marrying her is out of question.”
Suddenly the door opened with such a force that Elizabeth thought that it would surely fall off the hinges.
She stepped back in the shadows.
“Get out,” Darcy hissed, in a voice she had never heard from him. “There will be no relationship between us till you apologize to me and my future wife.”
“Is that your final word?”
There was only silence in response, and soon Lady Catherine marched out of the library, down the hall towards the main entrance. She did not look back, nor speak to anyone, only got into her carriage, ordering her people to leave without delay.
“You heard everything,” Darcy stated from behind her back, as she stood by the window, looking after Lady Catherine’s carriage as it disappeared from sight.
She did not respond. He put his hand on her shoulder. His hands were always warm, contrary to hers.
“I apologize. I am deeply ashamed for my relative’s behaviour. There is no excuse for her. I did not think she would come here, interrupting the funeral so rudely. You must believe me. Collins must have written to her. I knew that Lady Catherine would not be pleased with our engagement, however this… I did not expect. Where is everyone? The house is so quiet.” He was speaking quickly, nervously.
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Elizabeth, pray say something.”
She turned to him, her eyes downcast. “Mr. Bingley rescued the situation. He proposed that the company take tea on the terrace.”
“That is good,” Darcy nodded, relieved. “I only hope they did not hear too much.”
“The library is on the other side of the house, so I think that should be the case.”
He touched her chin with his finger. “Please look at me.”
She did as he asked. He must have not liked her expression, because he took her hands in his, stroking her palms with his thumbs, squeezing her cold fingers.
“I cannot even imagine how humiliating it was for you. I swear that I would have tried to prevent it, had I known... I should have guessed. It is my fault.”
“No, no,” she shook her head, freeing her hands from his hold, “Lady Catherine can be called rude; her arrival here on the day of the funeral insensitive, however, she was right in what she said to you about me.”
His brow furrowed, a dark scowl darkening his countenance. “No, she is not.”
“Yes, she is,” she insisted. “You know that she said nothing untrue. I agreed to marry you because of your fortune and position. Your family will hate me. In time, you will begin to dislike me too, regretting this union. You will be unhappy. We will be like my parents or worse.”
“That is very far from the truth,” he contradicted at once, speaking with energy, even enthusiasm. “Colonel Fitzwilliam likes you, even too much for my taste. Georgiana will love you, she already does. As for Lord and Lady Matlock, they may have some reservations at first, but once they know you, I am sure they will accept you. They are not like Lady Catherine. She was so furious because she convinced herself that I would marry her daughter.”
“Perhaps you should marry your cousin.”
“No, I definitely should not,” he argued, his tone laced with irritation. “I want a companion, someone I can share my life with, someone I would want to take to my bed without abhorrence and have children with. My cousin Anne is the last person to fit that role.”
She closed her eyes, before opening them, looking up at him. “You are a worthy man, a good man, I can see it now. Let us put an end to this before it is too late. You deserve someone who loves you. Lady Catherine is right, I am only using you.”
“No, no…” he protested, looking around. They stood in the darkened corner of the foyer; however someone could pass by any moment. “Come,” he took her elbow, pulling her with him.
He led them into the library and closed the door firmly.
“We will not be like your parents,” he said.
“How can you be so certain?” she asked, searching his handsome features. “I do not wish to hurt you. I was selfish for myself and for my family, but this is not right. We can part our ways discreetly...”
She was taken aback when he grasped her forearms with force. “You will not speak about our parting ways any more,” he ordered. His hold on her was not painful, but much stronger than ever before. “There is no such possibility. You gave me your word that you would marry me. Are you taking it back?”
“I do not wish to hurt you,” she repeated with feeling what she had already said before.
“Then pray stop speaking about leaving me,” he spat out.
He was silent for a moment, and she felt his grip on her arms loosening. When he motioned her to take a seat on the small sofa, she did not protest.
“Can you not see how similar we are in our attitudes, in our perception of the world and people?” he asked, sitting next to her. “We are both stubborn; however, we are able to acknowledge our mistakes and improve ourselves when pointed in the right direction. We will never be like your parents.”
“I do not know,” she whispered, unconvinced. She could not help but see everything in the darkest colours.
He placed her hand again in both of his. “Can you honestly say that you feel nothing for me?”
“I am confused,” she acknowledged.
A pleasant shiver ran through her body, as he kissed the side of her neck, “You cannot deny that you react when I touch you, when I am close.”
He cupped her face in his hands. The kiss which came was nothing like the light peck he had given her the day before. His lips tugged insistently, till she opened her mouth and let him inside. She would have never guessed that having someone’s tongue inside her mouth would create such intensely pleasurable sensations.
He ran his hand from her waist up, brushing the side of her bosom, whi
ch caused an instant reaction in her as she jerked in his arms. She could feel that his lips shaped into a smile against hers, as his hand moved down her side, curving around her hip. “You see, you are so responsive,” he murmured, nuzzling her neck with his nose. “You do not want me to stop.”
She closed her eyes, her head lolling against his chest. She felt tingly and uncomfortable all over her body. Her bosom, especially, ached, and there was an embarrassing, unexpected wetness, between her legs in her private place. He tucked her against him, her back to his chest.
“No more talk about putting an end to anything,” he murmured, placing kisses on the path from her neck to shoulder. “Do we understand each other?” His hands wrapped around her midsection, squeezing her to him.
She sighed. “I am not certain whether you know what you are doing.”
“Trust me.”
She turned in his arms to look into his face. “I am so grateful for your help, for assisting my family. I hope that you will not regret it. I will try to be a good wife to you; and give you happiness if it is in my power.”
He stroked her face with the back of his palm, “It is.”
“What should I do?”
He grinned. “So far you are doing everything right.”
She lowered her eyes. “Do you expect me to be more forthcoming?” she asked quietly. “Touch you more?”
He leaned to place a small kiss on her lips. “Do not fret about this; we have time. There is no hurry. Whenever you are ready.”
She swallowed, searching his face. “What about the wedding night?”
His expression did not change, and he did not hesitate a second before answering. “As I said, whenever you are ready.”
Before she could begin pondering on his words anew, he stood up, pulling her to his feet as well.
“I think that we should join the company.”
She nodded. “Mama must be wondering about our whereabouts.”
“Stay close to me. I will answer all the questions if they ask about the unexpected guest.”
“Thank you,” she replied gratefully.
She took his arm, and together they walked out of the room. Elizabeth hoped that their neighbours would leave the house soon. She wished to visit her father’s grave yet today.
Chapter Eleven
As Darcy and Elizabeth returned to the company, they received numerous curious glances, but no direct questions were posed. Elizabeth acknowledged that it was due to Darcy’s cold and discouraging manner. As promised, he did not leave her side. His scowl was priceless to observe, and soon, she wondered whether he practiced in front of a mirror to achieve such an effect. He could be very intimidating when he put some effort to it. She slowly began to understand that it was only a façade for strangers, and that in his relations with close family and friends he was entirely different.
Within only an hour after the incident with Lady Catherine, the last of the guests were gone. Mr. Gardiner also set off to London, even though Mrs. Bennet tried to convince him that it would be much safer to leave tomorrow, early in the morning. However, the man was determined to be joined with his family yet this night. Everyone guessed that he was concerned about them, his youngest son especially.
After they waved away Mr. Gardiner, Mrs. Bennet pulled Elizabeth aside. It was not difficult to guess what Mrs. Bennet wanted to talk about. Elizabeth attempted to be patient as she explained what had transpired between Darcy and his aunt. She did not include the finer details though.
“Are you sure, Lizzy, that he will keep his word and marry you?” Mrs. Bennet whispered fearfully. “Will he go against his family? Lady Catherine was so displeased.”
“He assured me that nothing has changed. He still wants to marry me.”
Mrs. Bennet seemed doubtful, pressing her lips together, twisting a handkerchief in her pretty, white hands. “Oh, child, perhaps you should encourage him.”
Elizabeth frowned, at first not understanding her mother’s point. “Encourage him?” she repeated.
Mrs. Bennet shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “You know what I mean to say.” The woman’s eyes rounded in exaggeration. “I will certainly not check whether you spend the nights in your room in your bed, alone.”
Finally, her mother’s meaning dawned on her. “Mama!” Elizabeth cried, truly outraged. “How can you suggest that?”
“Oh, shush, girl!” Her mother waved her hand before Elizabeth’s face. “I am not blind. I can see how he stares at you. Be clever about it. That would bind him to you even more.”
“On the contrary, Mama. He would lose any respect he holds for me,” she spoke with conviction.
She was hurt, and shaken; she wanted to cry. She could not believe that her own mother had suggested that.
“If you were to become with child before the wedding…” Mrs. Bennet continued obliviously.
“No, I will not do it!” she exclaimed.
“Do not be so selfish, Lizzy,” Mrs. Bennet scolded her. “Think about your family. You should go to him tonight. He will not hurt you. You may even like it.” Mrs. Bennet winked at her knowingly.
Elizabeth gaped at the woman in front of her, wondering how they could be mother and daughter. They would never understand one another.
“Mama, I cannot help you with putting the house into order now,” she spoke coldly. “I will go to visit Papa’s grave, and I want to be alone. You will have to deal on your own with the help of the girls and Jane.”
She walked away without giving her mother a second glance. She did not want to say something she would regret later. She was about to turn in the direction of her room to fetch her bonnet and change her shoes to more sturdy ones, when she remembered about Darcy and his whereabouts. She had not seen him for some time, since he had been saying goodbye to her uncle. Now with Mr. Gardiner gone, poor Darcy had no sensible company in this house apart from Jane and herself. She could not leave him for the rest of the afternoon, alone on her mother’s mercy. Heaven only knew what she would tell him. She shuddered at the thought. Mr. Darcy and her mother alone. She could easily see her mother advising him to pay her a visit at night, giving him a free hand. She should find him, and perhaps convince him to visit Mr. Bingley, or go for a ride.
She knocked on the door to his room, but he was not there.
The next place she decided to check was a library, and indeed she found him there.
“Are you well?” she asked, concerned, as she saw him sitting at the desk with his forehead placed against the smooth wooden surface.
He looked up instantly on hearing her voice.
“Perfectly well, thank you,” he replied.
However, she was not convicted of that. He was pale, his face without the usual healthy glow to it, and she could see the lines around his eyes and on his forehead were more pronounced than usual.
“Does your head hurt?” she asked
He tried to shrug off her question and stood up, but she pushed him back in the chair. “It started after your aunt’s visit,” she guessed.
“What started?”
She rolled her eyes. “Your headache. I can see that you suffer.” She touched his face, her hand clasping his forehead which was cool to touch.
“I have felt the onset since the morning, but yes, it intensified after my aunt’s visit,” he acknowledged at last.
“You should lie down; take a nap,” she suggested.
He straightened up. “I will not sleep during the day. I am not a baby. I have some letters to write.”
“I do not think that you will write a lot, with your head on the desk, refusing to have a true rest. You should be resting in a darkened room. It is the best for a migraine.”
“I do not have a migraine.” He scowled. “It is only a slight headache.”
“I am not listening to you, as you are not being reasonable.”
He gaped at her, unblinking.
She took his hand in hers and pulled him up from the chair.
“Where
are we going?” he murmured.
“To your room, so you can have a nap,” she explained calmly.
He rooted his feet into the floor, refusing to move. “I said that I would not sleep during a day. It is a waste of time.”
She counted to three, praying for patience. She considered arguing back, but then decided against it.
Lifting on her toes, she cupped his face, her other hand placed on his arm for a balance, and said. “Do it for me. I will be worried.”
He frowned, staring down at her.
“Please,” she smiled, giving him the look she always treated her family with when she wanted something badly as a little girl. “For me.”
“Very well,” he murmured, still scowling, but she could see the warmth and amusement in his eyes. He allowed her to lead him upstairs. As they walked into his room, she closed the door firmly, and pushed him to sit on the bed.
He seemed bewildered as she removed his coat.
“This cannot be comfortable to sleep in,” she justified, unbuttoning his elegant waistcoat and loosening his pristinely white neck cloth.
“Take these off,” she ordered, looking down at his feet. Thankfully, he was not wearing his long riding boots, because she would have to call his man to remove them. He kicked off his shoes obediently, and she pushed him down so he lay down. Reaching for the light, loosely knit blanket, she pulled it over him.
She made her way to the window, leaving it open, but closing the curtains, darkening the room. This way he would have an abundance of fresh air, without direct sunlight to hurt his eyes.
As she returned to the bed, his eyes were closed. She leaned over to pull the blanket higher over his arms, when he caught her hand, opening his eyes.
“Stay with me,” he asked.
“I wanted to go to Papa’s grave,” she reminded him.
He gave her a pleading look. “Just till I fall asleep.”
“Very well,” she pulled herself on the edge of the high bed, her back to the headboard. There was a proper distance between their bodies. She reached her hand to comb the hair falling on his forehead.