Regrettably, time did not seem to pass soon enough. Minutes turned into decades, and still no signs of her rescuer. Where could he possibly be? Trapped in the bedchamber, she was now sure she would have to face Richard, possibly explain why she was in his bedchamber again or even worse, be subjected to his advances once more, making the whole affair of breaking up with him even more difficult, for she certainly enjoyed his attentions.
No, she would not let him. She was determined to put distance between them, no matter how pleading his beautiful eyes grew, no matter how sensual his demeanour, she would just say no.
The dog was in complete silence now. Perchance he grew tired and left? Or maybe he fell asleep. Ever so slowly she made an attempt to reach the door. A furious bark alerted her that nothing of her musing had actually happened. The dog was still there, in full alertness, determined to keep her cornered until his master came back and decided what to do with the prey.
She was startled by a shaft of light coming from the door leading to the corridor. Someone, a man holding a tiny light in his hand, entered the bedchamber. So startled was the owner of the bedchamber to find Lizzy corned by his dog, that he, for what seemed an eternity remained unmoveable and speechless. At the sight of him she let out a gasp in surprise.
It was not Richard.
It was Darcy.
A completely drenched Darcy, dripping rain from his clothes as if just emerging from his bathtub.
"Elizabeth!" he exclaimed. The dog wagged his tail but not an inch he resigned from his territory. "Sit" Darcy ordered and the dog submissively obeyed his command. Without a moment to lose, Darcy darted to her side.
"Mr Darcy!"
Without pausing to think, Darcy immediately held her in his arms. Elizabeth, intoxicated as she was, hardly knew of her own actions, and having made up her mind to reject Richard, she failed to send new orders to her brain. Hence, in an annoyed gesture, she pushed him away.
"You are wet, sir!" The dog, noticing the struggling and thinking his master in need of his services began to growl anew.
"Down!" Darcy ordered him. Not a little puzzled by the uncommon situation, the beast whimpered in annoyance but obeyed nonetheless.
Darcy was astounded. What was Elizabeth doing in his bedchamber? Perchance she had tried to surprise him and got trapped by his pet. If that were the case, why was she so elusive now? As much as he had been amazingly surprised by Jane's amatorial submission, he had never expected Elizabeth's rejection.
There was an awkward moment in which neither of them knew what to do with their hands, their bodies having experienced the familiar contact. Unexpected rejection notwithstanding, the nearness of her anatomy had sent delicious shivers through his body, triggering once more natural instincts in flourishing alertness. Suffice it to say that his exertion of self-control had reached its limit that day.
Still, Darcy relaxed. She was there. In his own bedchamber, waiting for him. He had all the time of the world.
Feeling in full command of the situation, with his self-confidence the size of his height, Darcy stepped back a bit. He took adequate distance, grabbed the hand towel from the chiffonier and, while rubbing his hair in an attempt to dry it, endeavoured to achieve proper conversation.
"Hmmm… May I enquire as to your business in my bedchamber, madam?"
"I… I… I do not… Hick!" The tiny candle that he had been holding was now on a tall shelf, too far from where they were standing to provide proper light. Elizabeth could see nothing but his form in the dark, his demeanour in dim concealment, yet his scent was filling her mind with all sorts of pleasurable sentiments, quickening her pulse.
"I thought you… hmm… I mean, I trust you got my message," he said trying to make conversation.
"Your message? It was then that she remembered his name was also Fitzwilliam. She gasped in comprehension of her confusion. "Sir, I am sorry…" She began shaking her head in deep embarrassment. "I completely forgot… I should tell you that…" Only then did she realise she could not tell him of her misconstruction. "Indeed, sir. I did." Little by little their eyes became accustomed to the dimness, features becoming distinguishable. She could tell his expressions now and detected his eyes full of yearning. She strained her eyes to discern his features and in such pursuit moved closer.
"And you are in my bedchamber because…" her timid advances towards him had triggered his sensuality again. He commenced to use his soothing voice, the one he used to calm a wild horse he wished to bridle and mount.
"I got lost?" she said tentatively. She was speaking in a whisper, as if trying to avoid being overheard. She feared the dog, which was following her movements with zealous alertness. Every so often, she would peek behind his back in apprehension. Noticing the direction of her gaze, he tried to calm her.
"She would not hurt you. She would only keep you cornered until I arrived."
"Indeed," she said, but her tone sounded incredulous.
Darcy was excessively diverted by her uncommon fear. Still lingering in his mind was the memory of Elizabeth playing in the garden at Netherfield Park with this very dog, only Dot had been a puppy at that time, and not his guard dog.
"She would not protest if you did not fight me so fiercely."
"I… I… did not mean to… I merely…"
"Hush," he soothed her. "There is not time for that now. You are here, of all places. I cannot be more pleased."
"Pleased?"
"You have said you… got lost. I must assume you mistook the door of my bedchamber for the stairs that lead to the gardens?" Inebriation notwithstanding, wisdom as to the implications of the question washed Elizabeth's brain and soul. His inquires were evidently meant to lead her into confessing she had entered his bedchamber purposely. She lowered her gaze, unsure of which the proper answer might be. Her pulse was galloping, and she thanked the Lord her crimsoned complexion would pass unnoticed in the gloomy surroundings.
"No, sir. I did not." she confessed.
"May I surmise that the inclinations of your heart are still the same as upon our last meeting in my house in London?" While saying this he was discarding his wet shirt, Elizabeth following his movements in the dim light with wide, attentive eyes. Was he doing that on purpose?
Evidently he was. Once the drenched garment lay on the floor, Darcy approached her. He brushed a hand over her sleeve, sending quick shivers up her arm. She fixed her eyes on the hem of her night-gown, his bare chest successfully disconcerting her, while unconsciously she pressed her knees against each other.
"Elizabeth… may I kiss you?" The question sounded rather purposeless by then for he was a few inches from her, and he would certainly kiss her regardless of her answer. She could feel his delicious scent, such very inviting lips awaiting her permission. Almost as he was about to finally dip into her mouth, she averted her face and denied him the inducement.
"What is wrong, Lizzy?"
"Unfortunately, sir, although my heart is decidedly yours, I am not, hick!… I am not at liberty to accept any advances from you. Hick!"
"Beg your pardon?"
"I said that although my heart is decidedly yours…"
"I have heard that. Why?"
"I am not free, sir."
"You are married?" he said in horrific realisation. "But at dinner you said you… I do not comprehend your meaning."
She paused to think before she answered. "Nay! Not married, sir. Engaged I am."
"To be married?"
"Indeed, sir. What other engagement is there? Hick!"
"Are you unwell?" She blinked twice before she answered. Was it so obvious? "I confess I am not feeling quite myself. Hick!"
"Elizabeth, Have you been drinking?"
"No, sir. Not a drop. Hick!" Unable to control her hiccups, she reluctantly confessed. "Well, perhaps only a little." Albeit her affirmation of having merely tasted some spirits, her breath smelling strongly of brandy, her whole demeanour said contrariwise.
Howbeit a bit puzzled, Darcy could not
contain his feelings any more. Looking heavenward, he let out all his breath "Still, you are not married, then." he sighed, reassured. "Good Lord, Elizabeth. You scared me! Do not ever say that again."
"But, sir. I am not married, but still I am engaged… My present engagement is of a special nature. Thank God 'tis not revealed to the world. 'Twould be too awkward to explain a broken engagement…"
"You will break your engagement?"
Did I say that aloud?
"… I see I should have never consented to it, knowing it was you I… loved." she blushed furiously. God, she was almost proposing! "I guess I thought you would never be free again. I was foolish."
"Much as I hate to say this, your engagement does not surprise me. Still, you will break it to marry me?"
"I will," she nodded emphatically. "I already have. Almost."
"That is enough for me," he smiled adoringly. "I understand."
That his wife's dead body was lying only a few yards from where they stood, the fact that he had just engaged himself in amatorial rites with his best friend's wife and his present lover's state was far from sober should have been deterrent enough for any amorous feelings to flow, yet circumstances dictated that three years of self deprivation sufficed to terminate anyone's endurance.
"Sir, I should be going now. I am supposed to be in bed now." She headed towards the door only to find her exit blocked by the fierce look on Dot's eyes.
"I do not think you are going anywhere, madam. Not tonight. I am exceedingly pleased to have you here… tipsy as you are, in my bedchamber…" he said with a smile that covered his face. Suddenly he was silent and grave, his deep eyes dancing over her visage, exceedingly aroused, for having her there, in front of him, was more than he had expected from his wishing star. He held her tight in his arms, his skin hot against the muslin of her nightshirt. A ravenous kiss followed, full of sensual charge. "Thank God I have not tasted a drop of brandy or else…" he breathed against her lips "Now listen to me. You must remember this. I care not who you are engaged to. You are mine. No one else's. It has been a long time, Miss Bennet" he whispered. "You cannot imagine how long."
She said nothing, captivated as she was by his regard and fierce grip. The very proper Mr Darcy, this time definitely sober and at liberty to choose the woman of his musing, had left all notions of decorum aside the moment this woman re-entered his life. Now he thought only of himself, or rather stopped thinking at all. He wanted to make love to her, right there and then. Ever so slowly he held her closer, his blood racing, heart beat pounding.
Hesitantly at first, he bent his head to reach her tantalising lips while cupping her chin with his hand, his breathing quickened a bit faster, while the other hand tentatively dove for her bottom. Yes, that was indeed her bottom, judging from the flow of moans that followed his indecorous touch. The kiss was anything but chaste, though only a mere brushing of his lips. Still fearful of a sudden attack from the dog, Elizabeth was stiff and tense, for the animal was still in the bedchamber following their movements with perplexed curiosity.
His eyes still closed, lips parted awaiting hers for a second kiss, Darcy was lost in an incredible bliss. He pressed himself harder still against her, his hand firmly on her bottom, but on seeing she did not kiss him anew, he opened his eyes and looked at her with ardent love. Albeit he wanted to savour the feast of his new found love at length, he had to make sure she was of the same mind, first.
"You should not be here," he murmured to her ear with a warm breathy whisper.
"I should not?" she repeated in surprise.
"I mean, if you do not wish to lie with me tonight you should not be here." He came a little more apart from her and, eyes tethering her attention, said, "I cannot resist you, Lizzy."
He broke into a smile, and kissed her on the lips again with such emotion that one would have thought not possible for a man to feel. In perceiving she was still tense, he made up his mind to restrain himself for a while. A little conversation might do the trick. So, with renewed resolution he detached himself from her and proceeded to organise their near future.
"Will you stay at Rosings a little longer? A day or two perchance?"
"I do not know, sir. I am afraid that will depend solely on Mr Bingley."
"If you do, I shall endeavour to see you sometime tomorrow in the latest hours. Do you mind that?"
She did not hesitate to answer this. "Not in the least."
He smiled triumphantly, his eyes fixed on her bosom, as if savouring the moments they would share that night, clasping both her hands on his chest. "My study? At midnight?"
"Is it on the ground floor?"
"No. It is here on the first floor, next to this room."
"Midnight. Your study."
"I shall be waiting for you."
"I shall not keep you waiting."
"This is not a dream from which I shall wake up all alone again, is it?"
"No, indeed it is not."
"And you have just consented to be my wife when you have settled matters with your… fiancé?"
"Indeed, I have. Hick!"
"I do not want to know his name."
"His name?"
"Your betrothed."
"Oh. I was not going to confess that to you."
"You were not?" She shook her head in frank denial. "Well then. I suppose it is better this way. It took me five long years and three proposals to have your hand. I would not mind shooting any man who dared put himself between me and you. I have had enough with Fitzwilliam tonight."
Goodness! Was he saying that in earnest? She blushed and lowered her gaze, a bit embarrassed. "Three proposals and a great deal of patience, sir."
"No. It was not I who was patient but you. You never married, and I now know it was not for want of proposals."
"You are not angry with me?"
"How could I be? I am relieved you are not married."
"I feel awful. What must you think of me?"
"Elizabeth. It is only natural. You are a beautiful, accomplished young woman. I am incredibly fortunate to have found you merely engaged. It is a miracle you are not married. I have learned this lesson by experience. Let us not dwell on past mistakes. We are together now. Soon we will be married and at home. God, I can hardly believe this! Home, with you. I regret I cannot even ask your father for his blessing, either. I shall go to him soon enough."
"I must remind you though, I am of age now. I no longer need my father's permission to get married."
"I shall go to him anyway. It is the least I can do."
"As you wish, Mr Darcy."
"Fitzwilliam," he corrected her.
On hearing Richard's name she froze. "I do not understand, sir."
"My Christian name. 'Tis Fitzwilliam. You cannot call me Mr Darcy now that we are engaged."
Oh Lord Gracious! His name! Of course! Fitzwilliam Darcy. God, this will be difficult.
"Fitz… Fitzwilliam. Hick!" Much as she endeavoured to utter the polysyllabic name, it came out with no little difficulty. This was rather strange, for no such trouble did she have with the same name in connection with the Colonel. Unknown to her was the fact that said appellation had most easily escaped her lips at the peak of pleasure, definitely in connection with Darcy and not Richard. But at this very moment, she simply did not connect Fitzwilliam with Mr Darcy, rather with his cousin. Some part of her mind simply refused to utter the name just then. How would she explain it to him?
"'Tis too difficult. It will not do."
"Too difficult? I do not understand your meaning."
"Your name. 'Tis too long. I cannot go on beyond 'Fitz'." In truth it reminds me of your cousin. "May I call you Darcy?"
"Darcy?"
"Yes."
"Call me what you wish, as long as you also call me husband soon." He kissed her with all his passion again, employing his tongue in a seductive way. His touch was enchanting her, her body responding only to the cries of her heart. She let out an emotional gasp as she felt her knees
fail her.
Darcy sensed her arousal.
"Lizzy." He breathed into her ear while biting her earlobe.
"Yes?"
"I will make love to you, now, Lizzy," he warned her, entangled in her hair.
She felt a chill down her spine. "You will?"
"Yes."
"Now?"
"Indeed. Why else are you in my bedchamber?"
"But sir I…"
"Shh. Hush. Come." Ever so slowly, he led her to the bed where both of them fell with a great thud. Elizabeth did not know what to make of it, but she was too enchanted, or too much in her cups to think clearly.
"Darcy. I wished to preserve myself for…" He placed a finger on her lips silencing her.
"Fear not. I will not harm you."
He opened the covers of his ample bed and gestured her in. When she had obediently obliged him, he sat on a chair and divested himself of the rest of his wet clothes. She, in seeing him so doing, turned around and dared not look. When he followed her into the bed, he covered them both with the soft linen of his bed cover.
Dot climbed happily after him, too.
"Agh!" gasped a horrified Elizabeth.
"Down!" Darcy commanded.
Both the dog and Elizabeth obeyed. The dog quit the mattress, and Elizabeth lay down like a little girl following his father's resolute orders.
"I am awfully sorry," he said turning to her. "She usually sleeps at my feet," he explained.
"That dog?"
"I suppose she will have to get used to the floor from now on."
"From now on?"
"Of course," he said sweetly. "Will you not share my bed from now on?"
"Your bed, sir?"
"My bed, my house, my whole life. Everything that I possess is yours. Even my life. I am no one without you. Elizabeth, I love you. I do not wish to part with you from now on." He held her in his arms again and kissed her tenderly and lovingly. The manner of his speech, even if it was said in the middle of frenzy ardour of amorous congress, was soothing and successfully calmed her. This accomplished, he began to disrobe her with such sweetness, that Elizabeth, reassured by his words and his unbeknownst gentleness, kept her eyes open while he entertained himself with her cleavage. Little by little, he discarded her nightshirt, pressing his lips to the enticing whiteness of her breasts as they were exposed to his eyes, thus beginning a most delightful rite. Climbing atop her, he positioned himself between her legs, his instrument of seduction already engorged to the point of no return, pressed against her womanly portal, enveloped in her moisture that promised the most sweet surrender should he choose to transgress it; while his mouth he employed in kissing her with such passion, she thought herself dying.
Love Calls Again Page 34