Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  Her hands began fumbling with his cravat as she divested him of the interfering garment, just as Mr Darcy had done himself. How could she have ever imagined she would get away with this unharmed? In her naïvety she knew not she was playing with fire, and about to burn herself.

  Richard stopped and looked into her eyes inquiringly. What does she mean disrobing me? What is she expecting from me? Should I bed her? A disturbing thought began to trickle into Richard's mind. Has she done this before? Why is she so willing to let me take such liberties? Hey, maybe she's not so innocent! He roamed her face with his intent gaze while, as if she were consenting to his musing, she closed her eyes and smiled gently.

  However surprised Richard was by this forwardness, he was in no position to feel offended. Quite the contrary. Undoubtedly a bit puzzled, he responded to her wantonness with all the expertise a decade of sensual affairs had afforded him. Albeit slowly, Richard directed her towards the ample bed, where, once he finally reached his goal of thrusting both of them onto the plump mattress, he diligently employed his hands in administering rather arousing caresses. In doing so, Richard awoke every inch in Elizabeth's skin, now with his hands, now with his lips, ever so daring with the velvet of his tongue. Finally, when he had distinguished his partner was about to achieve her pleasure, her virginal portal was subjected to a thorough but gentle inspection to be found in admirable conditions, ready for an intrusive army.

  At this she gasped in surprise. She had felt his fingers directed to her most intimate corners before, but never had her flesh been divested of clothes. The feeling was exquisite, though, liberating sensual moans that had been churning, till then, in her throat. Thus, spurring him on.

  In all her candour, Elizabeth had forgotten the necessary iniquity such liberation of desires entailed. Compleatly oblivious to it, she closed her eyes and relaxed under his weight, her knees folded, legs parted, offering him sweet terms of surrender. Most innocently, she expected her fiancée to act in the same manner Darcy had acted. Chivalry notwithstanding, after the unexpected foreplay, Richard was beginning to feel that his attentions would necessarily lead them into muddier waters.

  "My love?" he asked her, breathless and dizzy. "Do you comprehend what you are doing to me?"

  She said nothing. In truth she had no idea what she was doing. She knew they were not behaving well and that her father would kill them both were they caught in such situation. Still, the implications of the exertion (that she was on the verge of losing her maidenhood) escaped her.

  Conversely, Richard's feet were firmly on the ground. Ever so slowly, he undid the lace that was containing the magic of her bosom, and for the first time beheld the soft orbs in full view, nipples tense and pert with excitement. He knew that should he linger a bit more, he would have to go to London in the morning for a special licence. But she was lying there, half naked, under his weight, flushed and panting, ready, for his seed to be planted in her garden.

  Therefore, the only obstacle for consummation was Richard's own costume, for he was fully dressed (he had only rid himself of his coat when he had sought her room, while she, most generously, had done away with his cravat). That, and his own sense of honour. For much as his wife-to-be was a very ardent lover, he still adhered to the belief that she was an innocent.

  Notwithstanding the present situation he found very much to his liking, the fact that, this time, she was not fully dressed and pinned to a tree, but naked to her waist and lying abed with him, made the endeavour to refrain himself from further intimacy a daunting exertion. Truth be told, the feverish frenzy of their lovemaking had instilled a growing conviction in Fitzwilliam that if he wished to leave his fiancée virgus intactus he would have to flee the room sooner than he would have wished to.

  But flee he could not. On he went, kissing the pert nipples with his experienced lips, gently taking her to pleasures only dreamt of or barely tasted, his hands roaming her quivering skin.

  Unfortunately, much as Fitzwilliam tried to restrain his sensual impulses, his own body betrayed him. Albeit absolutely irresistible, she was tempting waters from which he could take no more without proper release.

  Elizabeth's behaviour was also that of an unmistakably desirous heart. Therefore, great was her surprise when Richard, tilting his head, though, in truth talking to himself, almost cried out.

  "Enough!"

  This was said in such a commanding tone, that she immediately stiffened, then lay still. His quitting their embrace alerted her of something amiss, so dramatic his change of mood was, hence she asked timidly, like a submitting soldier:

  "Is… is anything wrong?" She looked at him, her chest heaving irregularly.

  "Yes. No!" he dropped his head on the pillow in frustration. "Nothing is wrong. But, we must stop. I mean, I must stop."

  Then, he rolled away, sat up and stroked his hair; his passion, albeit slowly, subduing.

  Elizabeth, meantime, collected herself and, fumbling with the laces of her gown as she covered her exposed chest, sat up on the bed, while raising one brow in an inquisitive gesture.

  Peeking at her from his chosen corner, he endeavoured to explain the brusque course of action he had taken. "I fear I might have overestimated my self-restraint. Had I… not removed myself from you, I… would have forgotten myself, compleatly."

  At this, she looked at him in sudden realisation. Horrific, it might well be called, for she had always imagined a gentleman could always keep his own wits about him at all times.(One might guess where such idiotic notion came from. Suffice is to say that Elizabeth dwelled too close to some of the most stupid maids that had ever lived, and one of them being her own mother). A frightful realisation, too, for she immediately remembered the intimacy she had reached with Mr Darcy, and she shuddered at the recollection in her remorse.

  Richard noticed her uneasiness, and turning to her, he reached out to touch her face, then followed the line of her lips with his fingertips and whispered, "Do not make yourself uneasy, my love. I will never do anything that could harm you. We shall wait until our wedding night. But for now, this young lady must rest from her fiancé."

  He, then, kissed her chastely on her forehead and rising to his feet, he reached the door. "Good night, my love," he said and quitted the room.

  It was a difficult night. Frustrating ardent encounters would only add to Elizabeth's confusion. Images of both Richard and Darcy haunted her in the night, and she woke up in distress and dissatisfaction, feeling overwhelmingly guilty of deceit and unbridled lust.

  But then again in the morning, the minute she saw Richard, his dazzling smile made her forget all the violence of her culpability. He would jest with every attempt she made to speak seriously and simply rejected her bad humour.

  Richard exerted such influence on her that she had eyes for no one else, and not once did her mind return to the troubling memory of Mr Darcy and her guilt.

  Her family also loved him. Everything Fitzwilliam did was right. Everything he said was intelligent. He and Kitty always played cards together, and laughed heartily when they did so. Whenever invitations were issued the Colonel was included. On these occasions, however, he would have to wheel his attentions to the rest of the girls, for he loved dancing, and when that was the amusing of the evening, had he been able to, he would have partnered only Elizabeth half the time.

  Such conduct in front of so many, made them, of course, the object of both the family's and friends' attention, and more than one neighbour would assume them to be engaged although nothing of the sort had been announced.

  Mrs Bennet, on her part, entered into all their feelings with a warmth which left no inclination for checking this excessive display of theirs. To her it was but the natural consequence of strong affection in a young and passionate man. Her daughter's future was secured.

  "I am sure Lizzy will be married to the Colonel very soon," Mrs Bennet told her husband one day.

  "This will probably be the case," he replied. "Yet he is to be gone to the Peninsu
la much sooner."

  "Upon my word, I am not acquainted with such a plan. You must be mistaken, Mr Bennet. If Colonel Fitzwilliam were to leave the country at such short notice, he would have told Lizzy."

  "He told me," was his blatant reply.

  "Did he, did he, Mr Bennet? Oh, this is very unfortunate, indeed! To the Peninsula? To Wellesley? What if something happens to him?"

  "He is nothing to us yet, you know, Mrs Bennet?"

  "Nothing? He is indeed something. Are you not aware he is engaged to Lizzy?"

  "You are mistaken, my dear. I have not known him to be engaged to our daughter, and I am to be apprised of the event, in case such an event ever happens, before they could be called betrothed."

  "But indeed, I know they are. I am sure they will be married very soon, for he has got a lock of her hair."

  "Take care, Frances. It may be only the hair of some great grand aunt of his."

  "But indeed, Edward, it is Lizzy's. I am sure it is, for I saw him cut it off. Last night after tea, when you went into your library, I left them alone purposely in the breakfast parlour. They were whispering and talking together as close as could be. He seemed begging her for something, and presently he took up her scissors and cut off a long lock of her hair, for it was all tumbled down her back; and he kissed it, and folded it up in a piece of white paper, and put it into his pocket."

  "Be that the case I shall have to have a word with the gentleman."

  "Oh, no, for Heaven's sake, Mr Bennet. You will ruin it all. No, you must let them be. Surely, he will come to you before he departs and ask for Lizzy's hand. You will see."

  "Well then," answered he. "If he is killed at war, then we shall have the consolation that Lizzy was almost wedded to the son of an Earl."

  Much as he hated to part with Elizabeth, Fitzwilliam reflected on the advantages of his decision. For one, he would be allowing time for Darcy's heart to heal and at the same time become used to the idea that he was married to Anne. The Colonel's own fears that Elizabeth's love belonged to his cousin had been, to his own estimation, incorrect, as the testimony of her amorous responsiveness proved. For, if Elizabeth still felt for Darcy, she had been devilishly good at hiding it.

  The morning of their farewell they spent almost entirely on their favourite path, secluded from both the prying eyes of romantic Kitty, and expectant mama. They held each other tight, and kissed, and promised each other an outrageous number of things. When she had cried her eyes out and he had succeeded in filling his memory with her beloved features, they returned to the house where they breakfasted with the family. After Elizabeth had expressed her wishes to call on her sister, who had just arrived back from London, Fitzwilliam bid goodbye to Mrs and Mr Bennet. He thanked his hostess and host for their hospitality, explained his duty with Wellesley in the Peninsula and promised to call on them first thing next year after his commission was over. He, then, offered to accompany Elizabeth for a while, before taking the road to London.

  It was on the way from Longbourn to Netherfield, that the parting took place. Saying adieu to her was the most difficult thing Fitzwilliam had ever done. He was convinced that their love was the strongest of all, yet he parted with the unpleasant feeling he was leaving her for good. They held each other for as long as their arms could maintain the embrace. She was leaning against a tree, and he was pinning her to it possessively with all his weight. While his lips rested, now on her forehead, now on her lips and his hands caressed the exposed skin of her arms, the rest of his body was gently making love to her, his hip pressing her forcefully against the trunk with hunger and longing.

  "My love, I shall stop now or else I shall not stop at all," he breathed passionately into her ear. She nodded shyly and looked at his beautiful azure eyes. They were glistening with welled tears. She began to weep.

  "Oh, Richard! Tell me how I shall live without you this whole year! My life is wretched. I shall be miserable without you."

  "Elizabeth, my love. Do not make it more difficult. You know it cannot be helped."

  "Richard, are you positive? Can we not just elope?"

  "Nay, my sweet love. How could I do such a thing to your honourable father? There is no other way, I am afraid. I must go now. Otherwise I shall never go."

  Ever so slowly he relinquished his embrace and stepped towards his horse. He mounted, his eyes lowered in true pain. Elizabeth, although always very much afraid of horses, approached thither and clung to his boot.

  "I love you," she said in between sobs.

  "And I love you, too." He lowered his head and she, on tiptoes, reached out to kiss him one last time. Then he spurred his horse and left in haste.

  ~•~

  Not long after Fitzwilliam had left, Elizabeth's dreams began to disturb her, again. Not only would she dream of Fitzwilliam, but also of Mr Darcy. And many a time it was this latter whom most assiduously haunted her nights.

  Evidently, Mr Darcy, married or not, was the true ruler of her heart. Yet, Elizabeth was too stubborn to acknowledge the notion. Still, whether she liked it or not, the minute Richard quitted her company, Mr Darcy's phantom returned with the same force he had always exerted over her every waking hour.

  Mr Darcy in the orangery, wearing his dark gaze and bestowing sensual kisses on her neck. Mr Darcy on his horse, bending gallantly to kiss her. Mr Darcy kneeling at her feet, begging her to marry him.

  Dreams with Fitzwilliam were of a more tragic nature. He was either mortally wounded, or dead, lying helplessly on the battlefield. Elizabeth always woke up distressed and weeping as a result.

  She often wondered how she could hold both gentlemen with equal affection. How she could have surrendered to both men was even a more embarrassing question. Was that not only expected from wanton, worldly women? Was she one of them?

  ~•~

  A whole year passed and not a note did she receive from her fiancé. Many an important event took place in Longbourn. Mary got engaged and married Mr Forester within that year, and Maria Lucas found a beau, too. Her sister Lydia Wickham gave birth to her first son, a healthy boy who was named after his grandfather.

  Elizabeth spent the longest nights crying, thinking her fiancé was gone for ever. Nightmares of Richard trapped under his horse in the battlefield became more and more frequent. Visions of his wounded body assaulted her in the darkness of her bedchamber, and she more than once woke up, drenched in sweat and bitter crying. So much so she soon dreaded to fall asleep.

  Day by day she would write a letter she was doubtful would reach its destination. If only she could have some news through a relative!

  It was then she remembered Miss Darcy. Had she not promised Fitzwilliam Darcy to write to her? Perchance she could, ever so slyly, endeavour to learn something from Richard through her.

  Eventually, Elizabeth started to correspond with Miss Darcy, but soon she discovered that Georgiana was in the same situation. The girl had no news from her cousin. In her hope he would return as promised, her coming out ball had been postponed a year. Yet, not only had he not returned, but neither a word she had heard from him since his departure.

  But every cloud had its silver lining. Georgiana had never expected to receive correspondence from the lady. Not after her brother's wedding to Anne. This only meant one thing. Elizabeth Bennet was really interested in her friendship and not in her brother. That intelligence made her feel really important, and her confidence grew exceedingly, for very rarely did anyone display true interest in her person, rather than as a means to get to William. In the course of their correspondence, Miss Darcy become quite attached to Elizabeth, for she did not bestow upon her the treatment of a girl. They shared many an interest, and Elizabeth's lively disposition did marvellous things to Georgie's self confidence. More than one secret was dropped into Elizabeth's trust, though not a word of Colonel Fitzwilliam's return was ever mentioned. Miss Darcy, however, did disclose Mr Darcy's whereabouts. Though it had not been Elizabeth's main interest, soon the recurrent mentioning of the
gentleman's name became quite familiar to her.

  Miss Darcy's new country friend's letters were rather simple. Miss Bennet merely expressed her wishes to correspond with her to further the acquaintance that had begun in Pemberley last summer. She talked about music, books, weather and favourite pastimes. It was full of questions, though, and Georgiana set immediately to answer them. Each time she was handed a letter from Elizabeth, she quickly went upstairs to her own bedchamber and penned a long answer, such was her contentment to have found a new friend in such a lively lady. She did not forget to express her concern about her cousin's departure, though no news of his whereabouts was she in possession to bestow.

  Therefore, on the first week of February 1812, upon the intelligence of Darcy's being in Kent through Miss Darcy's correspondence, Elizabeth's conscience allowed her to accept an invitation from her relations in Cheapside to spend the remaining time of the winter in town. A whole year had passed since Richard had departed, and Elizabeth wished she could have a look at the list of casualties that was reported in London, desperate as she was to regain faith, or move on.

  So, Elizabeth and Kitty departed from their home in high spirits; Kitty, for at least a short period in London would certainly be much more diverting than a whole year in Longbourn in the company of newly wed Mary; and Elizabeth, for it might very well afford her with the last opportunity to secure her heart's feelings or come to a final decision: either wait for Fitzwilliam's safe return home or let him go.

  To her relief, Colonel Fitzwilliam's name was not found in either the wounded or the casualties list. Grieved, confused and exhausted, Elizabeth returned to her aunt's house, and locked herself in her room. There she remained, crying and mourning his absence, his silence. After what seemed an eternity, she stopped crying and rose from bed. Looking at her engagement ring she sighed deeply, and closed her fist. When she opened it again, with a heavy heart, she took the ring off her finger and put it away in a small case.

  Her engagement was, thus, put off.