by Emma East
Charlotte laughed. “Oh, poor Mr. Darcy! I hope you didn’t treat him terribly, as you are wont to do me and those close to you when you are sick!”
“I’m afraid so,” Elizabeth said with a grimace. “After all, he did immediately leave for London afterward. He must be scarred for life and suspect of all young ladies from Hertfordshire.”
Charlotte enjoyed the amusing image, and they moved on to other topics, such as gossip they had heard that morning while in the village. Elizabeth, relieved, continued on with a weight relieved from her shoulders. She disliked lying to her friend, but if this was the only way to save her own sanity and escape her friend’s perceptive attitude, then she would. Gladly.
So. Darcy was gone to London. Whether this had to do with Miss Honeyfield’s blackmailing schemes, she could only wonder. But he did not seem inclined to return to bother her. Hopefully, they need never meet again, and he would find the perfect society woman to fit in his life while Elizabeth would happily move on with her own.
“Oh, no! Are you hurt? Step back, Lizzy, I will go get the broom.”
Elizabeth looked down at the shards of the nice teacup that had been in her hands, now broken pottery on the floor around her feet. It was part of Charlotte’s favorite set, too.
She helped clean up the broken teacup and saucer and promised to finance another one to replace it. She sat through Mr. Collins’ gentle admonishments when he came in for lunch, agreed that she was clumsy, and apologized profusely. But nothing would truly make up for that broken teacup, she knew. And Charlotte would always know that the new teacup was not original to the set. It would always be different.
It could never be mended.
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Also by Emma East
The Seduction Series
A walk in the woods while her sister is abed in Netherfield leads to Elizabeth uncovering a shocking secret about the tight-lipped Mr. Darcy… and reveal desires of her own that perhaps Mr. Darcy can quench.
But can her independent spirit handle a possessive suitor? Especially when that suitor can be very persuasive indeed…
A completed series, click the book cover below to begin your journey into the seductions of Darcy and Elizabeth.
Continue on to read the first part of The Seduction of Darcy by Emma East
The Seduction of Darcy
To finally be free of the condescending Miss Bingley and a walk in the wood—her morning could not be more blessed. Elizabeth had not walked Netherfield’s park in some time, three years to be exact, and to come along and find familiar gullies and paths was like meeting an old friend for a nice tea. The day had just begun, and the dawn emerged over the grounds like a gentle giant. In the midst of the trees, the sun entered through branches and leaves, and the rays dappled the grounds and made even the dead leaves on the ground appear majestic.
She preferred this silence to the strained one inside. Her only relief from the boredom when she was with the rest of the Netherfield party was conversing with Mr. Bingley and trading barbs with Mr. Darcy with all of the impertinence and archness she could muster. Excepting Mr. Bingley, she found the rest of the party nearly hostile to her because of her country background and lack of knowledge about the current manners and styles of the ton.
For now, however, she had the wood to herself and she could walk without fear of being molested by the party. They would wake late, she was certain. It was the more fashionable thing to do.
It was a slow dawn and the chilly wind that entered the wood brought with it the smell of burning leaves as the groundskeeper’s men cleared the lawns. Her walking boots were quiet in the leaves, well-formed to her feet, and she walked for some time in silence, pausing every now and then to examine an interesting shrub or tree.
She had just rounded a small cluster of trees set so closely together that she could not see the area behind them when she happened upon a sight that made her dart back to the trees in order to be concealed.
It was Mr. Darcy!
Strangely enough, the proper gentleman was sitting against a tree! Her mouth fell open in awe at the sight before her and she knew in her heart that it was of utmost importance that she remain concealed. Mr. Darcy was a proper gentleman by all accounts, even by her estimation—though she thought him a dour, unfriendly fellow who was too vain by half—and to witness him be so relaxed in such a strange location was certainly a diversion. She wondered just how she would phrase Mr. Darcy’s strange habit to Jane later that day when she told her. He had even removed his hat!
He didn’t look relaxed exactly, she thought as she studied the scene before her. He may have been resting against a tree and his eyes were certainly closed, but relaxed was the wrong descriptor for Mr. Darcy’s condition. He was taut, strung as tight as a string on a violin. His fingers tapped on the ground beside him, an incessant beat that spoke of frustration to Elizabeth’s uncertain ears.
The sight of him so fashionably dressed yet leaning against a tree brought to Elizabeth’s mind the night of the Meryton assembly when she had first lain eyes upon him. He was a handsome man with strong features, including a set of piercing eyes and a defined jaw. She had found him a striking man then and she found him even more so now with a lock of his dark hair curled over his forehead. Her fingers itched to brush it back.
She curled her fingers into the tree trunk in order to stop herself. She frowned. His lips appeared to be moving and she could hear a brief word in the air. What could he be whispering? What could he be saying? She thought she heard the word Elizabeth, and goosebumps formed along the skin of her arms, but she supposed she was mistaken.
She flinched when his eyes popped open. Oh, drat! In her attempt to move closer, her boots had crunched down leaves noisily enough to attract Mr. Darcy’s attention. Her only luck was that his head turned in the opposite direction of her location and she hastily picked up her dress and hurried away the way she had come. He wouldn’t possibly believe that she had stumbled on his secret location—they were too far in the woods for that. He would believe that she had expressly followed him to catch him in some untoward act.
Then she heard the sound of footsteps running—coming toward her.
“What are you doing out here?”
He caught up to her more quickly than she could run in her walking boots and holding her dress. And before she could comprehend just how close he was, Mr. Darcy grabbed her wrist and spun her toward him.
“I apologize! Please, sir—”
His piercing, dark gaze examined her, his eyebrows drawn down. “What are you doing out here?”
“Walking,” she gasped, her chest heaving with her fear and her exertion. “I did not mean to intrude, I promise.”
His stormy eyes studied her for a moment more and then he relaxed. His hand gentled on her wrist but he did not release her. “I know.”
She could smell him, an overwhelming scent of the earth and a fresh dawn. She glanced down at his hand, still wrapped around her delicate wrist.
“Did you come close to see what I was doing?”
Elizabeth was brought into his stormy gaze. His brows were drawn down and her fingers itched to smooth the wrinkles that appeared on his brow. His touch on her wrist shifted, a soft tickle across her skin, and surprise washed over her like a warm, inviting wind. This man admired her. He must, to hold her so gently and to touch her with such a sweet caress.
“I did,” she said. Her voice came out a whisper, barely audible over the wind stirring through the leaves above them. A streak of sunlight appeared on Darcy’s cheek and then disappeared just as quickly. She tried to gather some of her humorous spirit; unsure of the territory she was in, Elizabeth fell back on familiarity. “But you were only sleeping. I did not wish to disturb a man who chose a tree over his bed!”
Darcy was not humored. In fact, his eyes narrowed and he seemed almost angry
that she had dared say such a thing. She gasped as he stepped closer, looming over her. Even the wood seemed darker, his dark eyes blotting out the sunshine.
His words came out a freezing whisper. “Do you not understand that it is you who has driven me from my bed?”
“M-me?”
“With your impertinent attitude, your disregard for the manners so strictly adhered to by all, your arch tone and speech, even by the tender care for your sister—do not waste precious time pretending ignorance of how you have incited my feelings when your every look and word says otherwise.”
She was shocked beyond speech and into outright fury. She attempted to jerk her wrist out of his grasp but he held firm. “I beg your pardon, but you mistake me, sir, and forget yourself! Please, release me and we may speak like civilized persons.”
“Forget myself?” he growled. “I have prayed for that blessing of forgetfulness, of even amnesia! Unfortunately, I have not yet received such gratification. Here is your civility, Miss Elizabeth.”
Click to continue with The Seduction of Darcy, a three-part completed series!