Love Calls Again

by Lucianne Elsworth

  "You are very kind, but you are mistaken. I see I am not in want of your compassion." He paused there and then continued, "I am in a most extraordinary situation. I have as much reason to be ashamed of confessing my own follies. My blindness towards what was going on, led me to act toward your sister in a way that I must always be ashamed of, and I was very foolishly tempted to say and do many things which led me to unpleasant conjectures. Believe me. I have every reason to regret that I was not in on the secret any earlier. I only hope her reputation is unharmed. She deserves a better fate."

  Jane, still unsuspicious of his innermost feelings and with no intelligence of the meaning of his speech, was a little concerned upon hearing him thus speaking and could only presently say with great composure,

  "He is undoubtedly very much in love, everything denotes it, very much in love indeed. And she has been in love with him for so long."

  "I am pleased that you can say even so much. He is no object of regret, of course. I could only be certain that there has always been a preference. Darcy is the most honourable man of my acquaintance, yet has been doomed to unhappiness since his excellent father passed away. Now he is rewarded with a most sweet young woman. Mrs Bingley, your sister will be very happy." While saying this he drew closer, and Jane found her arm drawn within his, and pressed against his heart, and heard him thus saying, in a tone of great sensibility, speaking low, her own words.

  "Time, my dearest Mrs Bingley, time will indeed heal the wound." Her arm was pressed again, as he added in a more broken and subdued accent, "She will soon be gone."

  "I have no doubt of their being happy together," said Jane. "I believe them to be very mutually and very sincerely attached."

  "He is a most fortunate man," sighed the colonel. "What years of felicity my cousin has before him! Assured of the love of such a woman. For your sister, Mrs Bingley, the purity of her heart… no doubt he can consider himself the happiest of mortals. Darcy is a fortunate man indeed."

  "You speak as if you envied him."

  "I do envy him, madam. In one respect he is the object of my envy."

  Jane could say no more. He seemed to be half a sentence from a very difficult disclosure which Jane wished to avert if possible… She would change the subject. God! What to talk of? She had very few topics of conversation other than her children and her sister. But Colonel Fitzwilliam, breathing deeply, startled her by saying,

  "You will not ask me what is the point of my envy. You are determined, I see, to have no curiosity. You are wise, as well as polite. I thank you. Very well. I shall not tell you what you will not ask." He said this in deep mortification, for he very much needed someone to hear his sorrow. But of course, Jane would not be exactly the best person to open his heart to.

  Jane realised she had cut him short. He was wishing to confide in her, perhaps even to consult her. Oh, how ungracious her behaviour had been! She might have assisted him or reconciled him to it, relieved him from that state of wretchedness he seemed to have fallen into, whatever it was that was bothering him. But the moment was lost. They had reached the house.

  On reaching the grove, however, they saw Mr Darcy and Elizabeth in a most compromising situation. He was holding her tightly, his body moulded to hers, his hands shamelessly cupping her bottom, their lips joined in a most blazing kiss.

  Jane turned around in shock at the picture they offered.

  "Well. It seems you were correct in your estimation of the oncoming wedding," said Richard, staring blankly at the enamoured couple before them. "Come, Mrs Bingley. Let us take another path. We do not wish to make a scandal of this."

  ~•~

  After the guests had finished partaking breakfast, Mr Darcy had signalled Elizabeth he would join her outside. She nodded lightly and, after excusing herself, exited the room and headed for the garden. A few minutes later she heard Mr Darcy's steps following her to the grove. He came from behind, gently taking her by her waist as he reached her.

  "Are you not vexed with me?"

  "I confess I am."

  "I imagined so. I am sorry, Elizabeth. Sometimes I will not be able to accept your suggestions. But I promise I will do my best to indulge you in anything that it is possible."

  "Such as?"

  "Such as this," he wrapped her in his arms from behind and dove hungrily into her neck. "'Tis so wonderful to be able to hold you like so," he breathed into her ear. "Last night I was left desolate. I found myself sleepless half the night. You must understand I can no longer be like this. I need you, dearest."

  "How so?" she asked mischievously.

  "Very much. 'Tis urgent that we marry as soon as possible."

  "I suppose you must be right."

  "I am." Sinking his face into her hair, he inhaled its sweet scent of rose water and sighed.

  "Are we all alone?"

  "We are."

  She boldly turned around and kissed him on the lips. He sighed and responded in kind, dipping his kiss, eager to explore every enticing bend of her anatomy with his hungry hands. Elizabeth could perceive the gentle trembling of his body. His ragged breathing insinuated his becoming alarmingly aroused, his breeches unable to conceal his urgency for release.

  So much for restrained emotions.

  Their mouths were one over the other. In this posture, holding her tightly to his body, she could feel the bulging of his manhood against her. He put his hand on her bottom and pressed her against him even more. "You see?" he breathed his undying devotion. "'Tis imperative that we marry."

  "I see," she answered dreamily.

  Twenty-Five

  —

  The Unread Letters

  "You are going in, I suppose," asked Colonel Fitzwilliam to the flushed Jane.

  "No," replied Jane, quite confirmed of the necessity to make a defence of her sister's wild behaviour by the depressed manner in which he spoke. "I should like to come back with you if that is no inconvenience."

  He nodded in acquiescence. After proceeding to call the groom, he handed him the injured horse and instructed him to ready another one for Jane.

  After that, Fitzwilliam and Jane took another turn round the house, so as to avoid the grove, and walked along a narrow footpath which led to a small font. Then they sat on a wooden bench under an ancient oak tree watching the wild sparrows bathe in the fresh water under the sun.

  They were now silent again, the Colonel very compassionate, all idle topics superseded. The distress of poor Jane was evident,

  "Upon my word, madam. Do not feel so distressed! You must make yourself easy. The evil is now irremediable, and it has been entirely your sister's doing. Why would you be so ill at ease for her sake?"

  She blushed at her own folly and smiled timidly. Then she resumed the more serious, more dispiriting cogitation upon what had happened, what must be said and done about it. The distressing explanation she would have to make to the Colonel, with the awkwardness of the situation, to avoid rumours, the difficulty of subduing her own feelings, all this was enough to occupy her in most unmirthful reflections, yet she should speak there and then.

  "You must not think ill of her, Colonel. She is merely…"

  "Madam, I know your sister. You need not make any defence of her. She is most dear to me and no matter what, I shall never think ill of her. What we have just witnessed Darcy doing is most probable what I would be doing had I been in his shoes."

  "You would?"

  "Why of course! They did not expect to have spectators, did they? They are in love. I declare he is monstrously in the greatest of a passion. And so she may be, for all I care."

  Nonetheless, Jane did feel ashamed of her sister, but was not sorry to be spared the necessity of replying to him.

  Her anxiety thus mitigated, Jane kept her thoughts and her censure to herself. Colonel Fitzwilliam amazed her. In truth, she envied Elizabeth's daring display of affection with her lover. Deep inside, Jane did not censure her. Therefore, Colonel Fitzwilliam perfectly agreed with her. After walking togeth
er for so long, and thinking so much alike, she wondered if they would coincide in everything else. So far, she felt so well acquainted with him, that she could hardly believe it to be only their second meeting.

  He was not exactly what she had expected; he was indeed a man of the world, no doubt, but there was nothing of the spoiled child of fortune in him. His ideas were everything but moderate; a daring man; a soldier, of course, but with warm feelings. She was particularly struck by his manner of considering Mr Darcy's shameful demeanour in the company of her sister in the grove. He would not join her in finding much fault with them. No. He could not believe Elizabeth to be a bad sort of person, neither could Jane. Therefore, Fitzwilliam grew better and better in her heart. Looking fixedly at the sparrows in the font, Jane sighed.

  "Sometimes I wish I were one of those."

  "A bird? Would you not be afraid of hunters and cages?"

  "Sparrows are not so pursued, sir. They are free spirits for they are worthless."

  "They are easy prey for pouncing cats, though," he said using a most playful tone, sure of his own sensuality enveloping the easily flustered Jane.

  She raised her visage and felt the strength of his gaze upon her. He had this boyish grin on his thin lips, one knuckle between his teeth, left brow raised inquiringly.

  "Cat, indeed," she reckoned. "Still, I am no easy prey."

  Colonel Fitzwilliam coughed lightly, aware of the dangerous turn the conversation had taken. Suddenly, quite unexpectedly, she came up with a most surprising query.

  "May I, Colonel, be so bold so as to ask you an indiscreet question?"

  "You may, madam."

  "Are you not planning to get married to your cousin?"

  "My cousin?"

  "Miss Darcy," she clarified.

  "It would be something remarkable that I should marry someone so very young!"

  "It would be remarkable that both siblings should be settled at the same time!" she exclaimed.

  "I confess there is such thing in agitation. You see, my mother, she is a most excellent mother. She and my father wished that I married Miss Darcy."

  "Are you?"

  "No, of course not."

  "Why not?"

  "Simple. I do not love her."

  "So, you do not believe in marriages of convenience?"

  "Such as Darcy's to my cousin Anne?"

  "Such as mine."

  "You do not love your husband?"

  Jane looked at him with incredulity. Such impertinent a man! "I did not say such a thing," she frowned.

  "You said yours was a marriage of convenience," he excused himself.

  "Still, I did not say I do not love my husband," she said, visibly disturbed.

  "But you married him for his wealth?" he asked boldly, too involved now to give up the inquiry.

  Jane could hardly believe her ears. The gall of this man! What did he mean asking her such intimate questions? She had not confessed otherwise, not even to her sister! On second thought, it had been her own doing, had it not? After all, she had been the first to ask an impertinent question. She had no cause to repine now.

  "I am sorry. I see my impertinence is disturbing you," he said almost in penitence.

  Jane could not bear see him sad. 'Twas so strange! She barely knew him, yet she felt perfectly happy in his company. She berated herself for her stupidity. Why could she not confide in him? Could he not be her friend? "Oh no, Colonel. You have not disturbed me. 'Tis only that I am not used to talking with a gentleman in this easy manner… Please forgive my stupidity. You must think me rather missish. I should try to be less ungracious, sir. I will answer whatever you like. And if you wish to speak openly to me as a friend, or to ask my opinion of anything that you might have in contemplation, as a friend, indeed, you may command me. I will tell you exactly what I feel." She was flushed and nervous, her natural sedate countenance fell to give way to her passionate self. One very similar to Elizabeth's.

  "As a friend?" repeated the Colonel, and quite unconsciously his head leaned closer to hers, his eyes fixed on her lips. "Mrs Bingley. That I fear is a word I do not know."

  Jane's spirits went aflutter. "I… I do not comprehend, sir."

  He stared at her a bit until, shaking his head lightly, as if recovering from a trance, he tilted it again and said: "Forgive me. You were telling me about your husband." Jane sighed. For a moment she thought he would kiss her. Goodness! How close he had been!

  "I was very much in love with Charles when we married," she answered while she shifted uncomfortably in her seat, in vain trying to command her breathing to normal. One minute she felt she was perfectly at ease with him, as if talking to her brother, the next she wished she was miles away from him. This unsettling feeling was vexing, indeed. She pulled herself together and endeavoured to carry on with her tale: "Still, his position in society and his five thousand a year was what persuadedmy motherof the agreeability of his character and the suitability of our introduction."

  "I see."

  "However, I would have never consented to marry him had I not felt the deepest love," she added as an afterthought.

  "So, you must understand my position."

  "I do."

  "My parents are determined to force my suit, though. The honourable daughter of the late Mr Edward Darcy and Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, with thirty thousand under her arm, a very desirable connection on both sides, and I would have not doubted to oblige them, had it not been impossible for me to harbour nothing but fraternal feelings for my cousin."

  "Being the second son of an Earl is no little thing. Your expenses both in town and the country must be considerable. And your income must not be large."

  "I dare say it is not. But not as little as many think. His Royal Highness has been pretty generous with me after the war. I have been offered a position in the French embassy. I declined so I was rewarded in its stead. Hence, there is no longer a great necessity for me to marry well. I am determined to remain a bachelor if necessary."

  "A bachelor, sir? You can surely pick any woman of the ton."

  Fitzwilliam stopt and surveyed her lovely face. Was she bluntly telling him he was handsome and he would not attempt anything? Did she not see she was playing with fire? "I thank you. Still, I do not want any woman."

  "I take it that your heart is engaged, sir. Is she not suitable to your connections?"

  Looking at her straight in the eye, he answered most gravely. "She is not available."

  ~•~

  Mr Darcy knew he would have to accept the fact that a short separation from his beloved was unavoidable, even necessary. His hunger for her had led him to her bedchamber for all the duration of her visit at Rosings Park, and he feared he would lose control of his self-imposed restriction, the preservation of her maidenhood for the wedding night in serious jeopardy. He felt the urgent need to part with her now, for the simple reason that he could not bear see her wild surrender in amorous congress again without a better release for himself. Yes. He understood he would pierce her next time they lay together. Hence, he vowed not to visit her any more until their wedding night, which was a good month away.

  After very little discourse, it was finally settled that Elizabeth would travel to Longbourn with Mr Bingley while Mr Darcy would go to London to procure the special license and then directly to Pemberley before calling on Mr Bennet. Although Fitzwilliam must already know that he and Miss Bennet had arrived at an understanding, Darcy realised he had not told him of his engagement. He summoned Fitzwilliam into his study.

  "Cousin! I have the most joyful news of my life to tell you!"

  "Let me guess. You proposed and she accepted," he said casually. A simple answer. He used a bored tone, though, as if wanting to inflict upon Darcy some pain. He knew he needed not be unpleasant, yet he could not avoid it.

  Darcy merely nodded, a smug smile on his face.

  "I suppose I must congratulate you." Fitzwilliam sighed in a resigned voice.

  "You must?"

  "C
ongratulations for you both."

  "Well, Fitzwilliam. I must say I expected more enthusiasm on your part."

  "What can I say? I am happy for you."

  "Well, say it as if you mean it."

  "I am sorry. I confess I am a bit puzzled at your lack of restraint. I saw you both in the garden yesterday."

  "Oh," Darcy's face reddened, and he coughed a little, having not expected such an admission from Fitzwilliam "I see. I suppose one must be more careful in the open… I cannot say I am sorry. I never spent a pleasanter morning in my life," he shrugged.

  "I am afraid," replied a flushed Colonel, "that the pleasantness of an employment does not always evince its propriety."

  "On the contrary, nothing can be a stronger proof of it! For if there had been any real impropriety in what I did, I am sure I should have been sensible of it. For one always knows when one is acting wrong, and with such conviction I could have had no pleasure."

  "If your impertinent remarks are to be the proof of the propriety of your conduct then I should wonder at the depth of your affections!"

  "What is it that you object to, Fitzwilliam? Do you seriously doubt of my feelings for Miss Bennet?"

  "I doubt the discretion of your conduct."

  "We are all offending every moment of our lives… I am not sensible of having done anything wrong in taking my fiancée to a secluded part of the house for some intimacy. It was only a matter of chance that led you to happen upon us just then. Please, do not get me wrong. I confess I have already made up my mind to restrain myself in my shows of affections. I value your censure. I must thank you."

  "Very well. Is that all you wished to talk me of?"

  "Yes. Well, no. I wish to ask you a favour."

  "Yes?"

  "I must away to London to procure the special license, and then to Pemberley before going to Hetsfordshire to call on Mr Bennet. Will you not come with me? I would do it much faster if we made the journey to London on horseback."

  "You are getting married directly?"

  "Of course."