by Emma East
Now he was frustrated. All of this effort, these confusing thoughts, and he wasn’t rewarded with the object of his desire. Had he destroyed a perfectly good axle for nothing?
“Mr. Darcy?”
Darcy froze, and then his gaze flicked to his pocket watch, propped up on the end table. He heard the door latch.
“It’s one o’clock. I expected you sooner.”
“Pardon me for waiting until my sister was asleep,” she said. He lifted onto one hand as she crossed the room, only a shadow before she entered the dim light cast by the candle.
It was the first time he had seen her hair out of its pins. Long brown curls fell nearly to her waist, neatly brushed and shining amber in the light from the fireplace. She appeared like one of the goddesses who appeared at the banks of rivers to comfort and seduce those who would otherwise live without ever experiencing magic.
She wore a thin peach dressing gown that clung to her skin. It invited him to touch her and feel the softness of the fabric. He sat up and did just that, putting his feet flat on the floor and pulling her between his thighs. It was a magic specific to her and it caught him within its sphere of influence.
“Good evening, kitten.”
She shuddered against his hands. The silk bunched as he dragged his hands up her thighs.
“Mr. Darcy—sorry, um, Fitzwilliam. Is this wise? My parents…”
“It is probably not wise,” Darcy said. He would not lie to the young woman in front of him, no matter how soft her dressing gown.
Her fingertips traced the edge of his shirt. “You’re still dressed.”
He tilted his head back to allow her curious hand to trace his throat. Her green eyes simultaneously traced his expression. “So are you. I almost believed you wouldn’t come tonight.”
She licked her lips. “I almost didn’t, honestly. If we’re found out—”
“We won’t be. I won’t let that happen.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth. “You can’t promise me that, not really.”
“No,” he admitted. She needed to know the truth, and she needed to know what he would do to protect them. He wanted to smooth his hand over her drawn brows, then kiss away the worry that turned down her lips. But all he could do was skim his fingertips over her hips. “I can promise that I will never put you into a position where we could be caught. Do you trust me?”
“Yes, of course,” she said at once, and his fingers dug into her hips. She sucked in a breath and then subjected him to a glittering glare. “But it is not your life that will be ruined, Fitzwilliam.”
“I’m aware.” He grabbed her hand and brought it to his lips. She trembled against him and it only strengthened his need for the innocent woman in front of him. The room seemed to grow close, to grow darker with anticipation. Goosepimples formed on her arms and his skin was two sizes too tight. This time, owing to the unfortunate bed, Darcy had reason to take it as slowly as he wanted. Punishment… and pleasure.
“No one can know.” She sounded as if she was convincing herself now.
“No one will.”
“Promise?” she breathed.
He rose to his feet and with him he brought up her gown. “Promise.”
Chapter Thirteen
Only when the candles were small lumps of wax did they quit their lovemaking. She crept through the corridor, only a hint of dawn illuminating her way. Her dressing gown whispered as she slipped like a shadow into her room.
She smiled as she eased into the bed. Her spot was cold from her long absence, and Jane shivered when she raised the sheet to slide under them. Safe, with no one the wiser. What was a little danger to a courageous soul?
“Lizzy? Are… you well?” Jane mumbled.
“Yes, go back to sleep.”
Jane, whose one fault was a tendency to forget things said when asleep, followed her direction.
The crisp sheets rustled around her as Elizabeth rolled onto her side. She hid her smile in her pillow. Darcy made her feel like the most desirable woman in the world, despite her inexperience and clumsiness. Not fit for much more thought, warm with satisfaction, she drifted into sleep before even realizing she had closed her eyes.
In the morning, the impact of the situation came crashing down on her shoulders. She—Elizabeth Bennet—had made love to a guest in her parents’ home, under their roof, in their guest bed! Her hands shook when she passed the bowl of boiled eggs to her father at breakfast.
Her gaze darted to Darcy only briefly throughout breakfast and her mother and sisters’ idle chatter. How had she done such a thing? How could he appear so innocent when she felt like one wrong move would reveal the state of her chastity to everyone who loved her?
Mrs. Bennet attempted to see the gentlemen stay longer, perhaps even until lunch, but the men were adamant. The coach was to stay and be repaired while the gentlemen rode back to Netherfield. If Darcy tried to catch her eye during his goodbyes, Elizabeth was too busy avoiding him to notice. Elizabeth released a sigh when the door closed behind them.
Why did I go to his room? Why would I disrespect my family? How would I have explained it to my parents if they caught us?
“Mama, may we go to Meryton today? We wish to see our aunt and then see if any officers wish to join us for tea! Our Aunt Phillips is always overjoyed to have the officers for tea!”
Irritated by the departure of the gentlemen, Mrs. Bennet was in no mood to cater to Lydia’s demands. She snappishly told Lydia that it was far too muddy to walk about. Then she turned to Elizabeth.
“He didn’t look away from you all morning!” she crowed. “I foresee a marriage by Christmas! Oh, whatever shall we do? We barely have time to order a new trunk—I shall speak to your father at once.”
“Mama, there has been no offer, much less an acceptance!” Elizabeth said. She laughed, but it was tinged with horror. Had they truly been so obvious? If so, did her father suspect? Dread rose like bile in her throat.
“Phooey! Now come along and we’ll get this sorted with your father.”
Elizabeth thought of grabbing the doorway and refusing to be dragged anywhere near her father. Not when Darcy’s scent still lingered on her skin.
“I beg leave to take a bath!” she said, instead of taking drastic measures. When her mother only attempted to brush off her request, she pleaded, “What if he comes again unexpectedly, Mama? I would appear refreshed.”
“Oh, very well,” Mrs. Bennet said bad-naturedly. She turned to Jane, who had been listening to this display quietly while she focused on her work. “However, you must tell me how you’ve managed it. How dearly Mr. Bingley treats you! Whatever have you said to inspire such devotion?”
Listening to Jane turn defensive about her own romantic position, Elizabeth snuck away and ordered a bath brought to the room. But it took several moments after a servant filled the bathtub for her to step into it. Despite her shame and her guilt, she enjoyed the lingering scent of him on her skin. Masculine and warm, like walking through a wood after a heavy snowfall. She did not want to lose it or the reminder of how they had made love all night.
But he also scared her. No, she scared herself. Her sisters knew Elizabeth as the rational, aloof one, and her parents understood her to be the easy-going, yet responsible daughter. This was an aberration in her character that horrified her. If someone found out, they would believe she had gone mad. Heaven forbid her father find out!
How had she fallen so far away from her principles? Her morals?
It was nearly a supernatural force; the magnetism he exerted upon her towed her toward him with inextricable and inescapable force. Even now, safely out of his sight, her skin tingled at the thought of his fingers sliding up her thighs.
She sighed and let her head drop to the side of the tub. Why did everything need to be so complicated?
The next week, when the ground had hardened enough to walk to Meryton without becoming three feet deep in mud, Mrs. Bennet allowed them to visit their aunt in town. Mrs. Ben
net was, frankly, tired of Lydia and Kitty bemoaning their cruel treatment every hour they remained close to the house. Elizabeth and Jane joined them, eager to also experience the air away from Longbourn. Mary was the only one to stay behind, too busy with her books to socialize.
The cool morning touched her face, stinging her cheeks stinging slightly. After such a long period indoors, the air was refreshing rather than oppressive. Especially with the warm sun beaming upon them.
“You’re glowing, Lizzy,” Jane said with a friendly nudge to Elizabeth’s shoulder.
“No, I am not.” She grimaced at her sister. “It is only a healthy exertion.”
“Of course.” Jane smiled ahead toward their two youngest sisters, both giggling over something. “All young ladies routinely smile for no reason.”
“Yes… your smile has been radiant lately.” Elizabeth lifted her eyebrow at Jane’s blush. “Do you only feel the glow of exercise, too?”
“Perhaps,” Jane said. Then she laughed. “Oh, Lizzy! I cannot express how amiable I find Mr. Bingley. He is the perfect gentleman.”
“If he makes you happy, then I would agree.”
Once in town, they met with their Aunt Phillips outside of her house. She invited them to accompany her shopping and—the youngest two always keen on seeing the shops—they enthusiastically accepted.
It wasn’t long before the sight of two familiar gentlemen caught their interest—and Lydia and Kitty were all too keen to giggle and glance back at Jane and Elizabeth when Darcy and Bingley reached them.
Her heart hammered in her ears. Swallowing against her suddenly dry throat, she curtsied to first Darcy and then Bingley.
“May we join you?” Bingley asked when they had been informed of their purpose in town. The ladies agreed, mostly with enthusiasm. Elizabeth couldn’t look in Darcy’s direction without her stomach turning cartwheels.
Naturally, he offered her his arm to escort her up the street. In front of them, Jane happily accepted Bingley’s arm. But the prospect of touching Darcy, even if not intimately, only brought to mind all of their intimacy in contrast.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, listening to the chatter of the group as they walked at the end of the line. Lydia and Kitty were in fine form, assured that their aunt would buy them a candy apiece. Meanwhile, Jane and Bingley looked as besotted as ever.
“Kitten, it is fortuitous we met today.”
She looked up at him, taking in his serious profile and the clean cut of his attire. It was impossibly rude to be as handsome as he was, she decided.
“It is?”
He didn’t look down at her, merely kept his gaze ahead of them as he escorted her up the street. “It is. Otherwise, I might have suggested that we stop in at Longbourn today—which I fully suspect Bingley would have agreed.”
“And why would you wish to stop in to visit us in Longbourn?” she said, teasing though she suspected—and hoped for—his answer.
“We have yet to meet again since our last assignation. I would appreciate a chance to test out the new mattress I’ve put in the cottage.”
“A new—” She saw Jane turn to peer back at them quizzically and quieted. “Why?” she whispered.
“Comfort is paramount in these matters, don’t you find?”
She was dubious by this line of reasoning. “I suppose so.”
“I much prefer to see you spread out on a bed in front of me than I prefer to see you fully clothed in my lap—though, be mindful, I enjoy you regardless.”
Her cheeks would have heated food. “Mr. Darcy…”
His voice was a silky murmur as they passed the inn’s front steps. “Tomorrow at dawn.”
Another meeting? And so soon? She squeezed his arm. “Is this wise, though?”
He peered down at her and she sucked in a breath, worried by the intensity of his gaze. Not worried about his anger, but worried she might be dragged back under his influence. “You will not regret it, kitten. This time, we need not leave off after the candles burn down.”
Her stomach performed a backflip. “But…” she drew off and chewed her bottom lip.
“I would have you again,” he said, in such a calm, decisive manner that her stomach performed another flip, and heat surged through her middle at the image of him having her. He looked down at her then, but only to add in his serious manner, “However, if you are reluctant—”
“No,” she blurted. “Merely a little worried. My parents—”
“—will know nothing,” he finished.
Swallowing at the finality in his gaze, she nodded. “Yes. Very well, then. Tomorrow.”
How could such a man—imperious and demanding—attract her so when she knew herself to be a rational creature? His raw sensuality, joined with his evident desire for her, stripped away the Elizabeth that she knew, and replaced her with a daring, eager woman she hardly recognized. She knew herself to be courageous, but this wasn’t courage. It was like recklessly throwing herself off a cliff hoping there would be water at the bottom.
The rest of their visit, Darcy did not allude to their intimacy, though Lydia and Kitty giggled regardless at any show of politeness between them. This should have caused Elizabeth to relax. However, she remained tightly wound, her gaze darting away from Darcy’s each time she caught his heavy gaze upon her. Skittish and uneasy, yet giddy with his attention, she released a sigh of relief upon the gentleman’s departure with Bingley when they parted to complete their own tasks.
Jane heard the sigh and squeezed Elizabeth’s elbow. “Now you will tell me you are not completely besotted with Mr. Darcy.”
“I would not tell you that,” Elizabeth said, with true regret. She could sneak out of Longbourn as easily as she could return. The issue would be sitting across from her father at the breakfast table with Darcy‘s taste still on her lips.
However, Elizabeth ended up missing breakfast entirely the next morning. Despite her every intention, Darcy’s persuasion skills quickly outmatched her own. He did not enjoy losing—and Elizabeth could cope with losing in this battle of wills, just this once.
When she returned to Longbourn, patting her hair and worrying it would fall out of its pins, she only just missed both the rain and Jane’s departure for Netherfield.
“Did they send a coach, then?” Elizabeth said to Hill as she wiped off her feet at the back door.
“Your mother had her leave on horseback,” Hill said, not looking up from scrubbing a skillet with practiced efficiency. “Warm rolls on the table for you, Miss Lizzy.”
Elizabeth pocketed two rolls and buttered a third before going to the parlor. “Mama, Hill says you sent Jane on horseback to Netherfield. Should we send the coach for her since it has started raining?”
Mrs. Bennet did not look up from her knitting. “A little rain will not bother her.”
Thunder rumbled overhead and around them the house seemed to shake.
“It will pass quickly,” Mrs. Bennet said.
Elizabeth walked to the window and peered out. “We should send the carriage. What if something spooks the horse and Jane cannot control it? Tell me you did not send her upon Marvin.”
“Oh, as if I know which horse she chose,” Mrs. Bennet said, bad-tempered. “Sit, Lizzy, you are doing my nerves in. And while you eat your rolls, you can explain why you were not here! Of course, the invitation from Mr. Bingley’s sisters did not include you, but I would have sent you along anyway as a chaperone. Yet you were not here!”
“I went for a walk,” Elizabeth said. Her heart beat a little faster, but Mrs. Bennet only harrumphed. Elizabeth’s habit of early morning walks was well known within the household.
The rain continued. Elizabeth confirmed with her father that yes, indeed, Jane had taken Marvin to Netherfield. Marvin, the cheaply obtained nag that spooked at every shadow and fretted in his stall all night. He had twice thrown one of the stablehands and once ran off at the sight of a plow. The question wasn’t if Marvin would throw Jane, it was when.
> “You might have been here to stop your mother, if you have such objections to the plan,” Mr. Bennet told her when she asked if they should send a coach to look for Jane. He peered over his glasses at her with a tiny smirk. “I may have sent you both in the coach, if you insisted then.”
Elizabeth’s expression must have indicated her guilt because Mr. Bennet chuckled slightly. “Who knew walking could lead to such a disaster?”
“Papa, do not tease. Will you not send a coach after her to ensure her safety? You know as well as I do that the horse she used cannot handle blue skies, much less a storm!”
Though Mr. Bennet appeared to take her concerns seriously, he still shook his head. “I will send a note to Netherfield to check whether she arrived safely. It would be foolhardy of me to send the coach right now.”
Yet, you would send your eldest daughter into it only because Mama insisted!
She turned away before Mr. Bennet could read that thought from her expression.
The note was sent as soon as a servant could be pushed to ride to Netherfield. The reply did not come until the rough weather abated some, close to evening. Elizabeth cried out in joy as soon as she read it. Jane had made it—though she had to walk the last quarter mile as Marvin had run off. There were no injuries, luckily, as Jane had the foresight to climb down from him as soon as he became agitated. That had potentially saved her from being kicked or thrown, but it had not saved her from being soaked clean through. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley had kindly allowed Jane a guest room for the night.
At this point, Elizabeth sagged in relief. Jane was safe and she would not have to journey home that evening, thanks to the hospitality of Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley, who seemed to enjoy Jane’s company. Jane signed off with love, and with no note of resentment toward her mother for sending her out into the weather.