Entranced by this interesting, closer quarry, Argos made a novel attempt to hare off after it and, because of his sudden change of direction, he succeeded in jerking the leash from Elizabeth's hand and almost pulling her off her feet. Darcy grabbed her before she toppled over, but his concern for his fiancé resulted in him missing the leash when he lunged for it with his other hand. By the time he had righted Elizabeth, they were in time to see Argos intercept his quarry. Feathers went flying in all directions as the dog caught the hat in his mouth and shook it violently from side to side as he sought to subdue it.
Miss Bingley's screams could not have been louder if she had been personally attacked.
Deeming it too late to save the hat, Darcy made the mistake of glancing at Elizabeth, who had stuck her hand in her mouth to prevent herself laughing. Her eyes were dancing. The counterpoint of the two ladies' reactions was almost too much to bear. He fought an urge to burst out laughing and only managed to do so by turning it into a cough. He sorely wished his cousin Richard was present to appreciate the mayhem.
They quickly mastered their emotions and sought to get Argos under control. Darcy commanded Argos to sit and retrieved the leash, while Elizabeth took hold of the hat that was still firmly gripped between the dog's teeth and tried to coax it out of his mouth.
Argos, however, was reluctant to give up his treasure to a mere female, regardless of his partiality towards her.
"Drop it!" commanded Darcy.
When Argos let go of the beaver, Elizabeth looked at it with dismay. The brim was quite misshapen. Perhaps it could be steamed back into shape; but the feathers, which had been scattered all about, were ruined. Only the tattered stubs remained attached to the hatband.
Walking to meet Caroline and the viscount, who had stopped a few feet away, she offered it ruefully back to its owner.
Infuriated at the desecration of her millinery triumph, Caroline was provoked into an unwise reaction. Refusing to accept the hat, she exclaimed, "You did it on purpose!"
Elizabeth was gratified to note that she had now added Witch of the South Wind to her small list of accomplishments, but she was diplomatic enough to reply, "It is a pity the wind caught it."
"You let go of the dog!" yelled Caroline.
"I beg your pardon, Miss Bingley," said Darcy frostily. "I take full responsibility for my dog's bad behaviour. I believe the feathers on the hat proved too much of a novelty for him."
"Yes, such a shame, Miss Bingley! I shall buy you another!" offered the viscount. There was no way he was going to do this, but anything to shut her up. What a display!
"She deliberately let go of the dog!" insisted Caroline.
"Now, now," said the viscount soothingly. "Remember, she is the cat's mother."
"You did it out of jealous spite!" Caroline continued, looking the sprigged muslin Elizabeth was wearing up and down disdainfully.
"Caroline!" came a reprimanding voice from afar.
They all turned to see Mr Bingley running towards them, his hat and cane in one hand. Jane trailed far behind.
"She did it on purpose, Charles!" Caroline protested. "She is a jealous cat!"
All this talk of cats had Argos on edge. If there was a cat in the vicinity, it had just revealed itself. He growled at Caroline.
"That will do, Caroline!" huffed Bingley, coming abreast of them. "Please apologize to your sister-in-law and her future husband!"
"What?!" said Caroline, turning an alarming shade of red.
Perceiving that his sister was about to have an apoplexy, Bingley grabbed her elbow and frog-marched her a short distance away with, "May I have a word, Caroline?"
When Bingley judged himself to be out of earshot of their companions, he asked, "Caroline, I know that you have not replied to any of the letters I sent you, but have you actually read any of them?"
"Your letters are illegible, Charles," replied Caroline evasively.
This lack of disclosure seriously annoyed Charles, but he was too much of a gentleman to let it show in public.
"Well… if you had read my letters, you would know that Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet are engaged, so unless you want to lose the connection, I would suggest being a lot more polite very quickly."
Caroline stuck her nose in the air and replied "Humph!"
"Very well, Caroline. Be like that, but I will be calling on you and Louisa at the Hurst's townhouse tomorrow afternoon. Make sure you are there."
While Charles was engaged in his tête-à-tête with his sister, Darcy approached the viscount.
"I beg your pardon, Waltham. Please send the bill for the new hat to me."
The viscount looked at him in surprise.
"Right-o, devilish good of you, Darcy. Not sure why she cut up so stiff. These things happen… remember my horse once ate the flowers on my mother's hat. She was quite good about it… said it served her right for using fresh ones instead of silk."
Darcy wasn't quite sure what to reply to this speech, so he nodded sagely.
Charles returned to the group, dragging a reluctant Caroline behind him. She had red splotches on her face.
"Thank you so much, Waltham, for escorting my sister out to take the air," said Charles. "I believe she has a headache and would like to return home."
"Of course, Bingley, old man. Right away!" said Waltham, handing a reluctant Caroline into the barouche. He was glad to be getting rid of her. She looked to be in a devil of a temper. Definitely time for him to go back to Almack's, but it wouldn't hurt to send her the hat when it wasn't going to cost him a penny. As his affairs were getting pretty desperate, it would be wise to keep a few irons in the fire.
As the coach drew away, Caroline gave a speaking look to Mr Darcy, which she hoped conveyed, "What were you thinking?"
Argos lunged after the coach, hoping to send the cat more speedily on its way. Elizabeth was ready for him this time and held him at bay, but he managed a couple of satisfactory yaps.
"Well!" said Bingley with an apologetic smile before glancing round for Jane. He perceived his wife was still wending her way towards them and he raced off to accompany her back.
The Bingleys had brought some bread to feed the ducks, pressed onto them as they left the townhouse by Mrs Flowers. Mary and Georgiana helped them throw it into the pond while Darcy and Elizabeth did a brisk circuit with an energetic Argos. He had decided the ducks were beneath his contempt when he spotted a squirrel.
By the time they arrived back at the townhouse for lunch, it had begun to drizzle, and they decided to spend the afternoon in the music room. This was exquisite torture for Darcy, who was entirely too aware that that this was his last night with Elizabeth before her departure for Hertfordshire. He spent the afternoon being distracted by imagining what he might achieve upstairs once he and Elizabeth were alone. He had to be asked twice if he would like a slice of cake by Georgiana; confirmed he took milk in his tea to Jane when he drank it black; and only avoided putting his spoon back in the sugar bowl after stirring his tea when Georgiana protested. Darcy then put the spoon in his mouth and sucked on it meditatively while watching Elizabeth read her book. It was just as well that Mrs Reynolds wasn't about to catch him at it. The old housekeeper at Pemberley certainly would have reprimanded him.
The afternoon passed away in comfortable companionship, and they were partway through dinner when they were disturbed by a loud banging on the front door. Darcy knew that knock and got up to assist the footman to intercept the visitor. He was not quite in time to shut the dining room door to prevent the following exclamation drifting in from the hall: "Darcy you are here! Waltham said he saw you in the park this morning. Why didn't you inform me, and why the devil don't you have the knocker on the door?"
Darcy's murmured reply was inaudible, but the bass notes warbled round the room before Richard Fitzwilliam burst into the room with Darcy trailing reluctantly behind.
"Georgie! You have friends! Here I am sitting over in the cold barracks, and I could be cosy here with you!"
&
nbsp; "Richard! I thought you must be in Newcastle!" replied Georgiana.
"More like at White's," muttered Darcy under his breath.
"No, no, my dear, someone seems to have forgotten to send me a note saying you were back in town," replied Richard.
"We only planned to be here a few days," said Darcy lamely as Richard shook hands with Bingley.
"Do you remember the Miss Bennets, Richard?" asked Georgie.
"How could I forget the lovely Miss Bennets?" asked Richard.
"Mrs Bingley, Miss Elizabeth," he said, bowing courteously to each of them, before turning his attention to Mary and smiling meaningfully at Georgiana.
"And Miss Mary Bennet!" replied Georgiana after only a short pause; "May I present my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam."
"Another lovely Miss Bennet!" said Richard gallantly.
Mary, who had never heard herself described as 'lovely' before, thought he might be making game of her. The truth was she was very well looking, but she rarely appeared so in the presence of her better looking and better groomed older sisters. However Georgiana's maid had helped prepare her for dinner that night.
Mary gave him a weak smile.
"Well, you've got quite the houseful, haven't you, Darcy? I suppose the Bingleys are up with you on the third floor. Should I bunk in the green room?"
"Your usual room is available on the third floor," said Darcy stiffly.
"Elizabeth is in the green room, Richard," supplied Georgiana; "and Mary is in with me."
Richard grinned broadly and looked steadily at Darcy. "What a splendid arrangement! And so convenient!"
"Yes," replied Georgiana happily, "all the spinsters are on the second floor! I've become an honorary Bennet sister!"
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably, remembering that Richard knew of the secret stair; but he said nothing more of it, and sat down to a bowl of soup that had been served to him from the sideboard.
"I seemed to be developing a habit of arriving late at these Bennet get togethers," Richard remarked. "After the ship has set sail, so to speak."
The footman filled his glass with wine.
"Ah!" he said, taking a sip and making a show of toasting Darcy. "Thank you to the captain, for my ration of grog."
Remembering Darcy's speech on the games he played with his cousin in the secret stair, Elizabeth now realised what Richard was up to and cast a surreptitious look at her fiancé to see how he was taking it. Darcy's lips were pressed into a thin line.
The rest of the dinner passed uneasily for Elizabeth as she tried to make innocuous conversation, helped mostly by Bingley and Jane, while Richard managed to interlard the conversation with "Jolly Roger", "walk the plank", "pieces of eight" and many sailing terms. Georgiana, oblivious of her cousin's design and genuinely glad to see him, contributed a few also. Jane and Bingley weren't quite sure what was going on but they were more than aware of Darcy's icy silence.
When the dessert plates were cleared away, the ladies withdrew to the music room, and Richard brought the brandy decanter to the table. Darcy knew that Bingley was just as anxious as he was to be upstairs, but that his friend was too polite to withdraw early when another gentleman was present. Richard, who had put his feet up onto another chair, proceeded to discuss all the latest news and on dits with Bingley, interspersed with further maritime references for over an hour.
Sometime after the music in the parlour ceased, Bingley excused himself to use the commode under the stairs. Freed from his friend's sensibilities, Darcy stood up and gave his cousin a rough push.
"You wonder why I didn't invite you here? Your behaviour speaks for itself!"
"Come, come, Darce! Can't take some good-natured roasting? You're not married yet you know!"
That was enough for Darcy. He tackled his cousin and the wrestling match was on.
When Bingley quietly returned to the dining room, he found the two men rolling around on the carpet. As Richard was the heavier of the two and a military man to boot, Bingley expected a short match, but his expectations were confounded by Darcy's science and determination.
The following dialog escaped the fray: "That's the last pirate joke that will pass your lips"; "Says who?"; "You insulted my fiancée!"; "What's your problem?"; "None of your bloody business!"; "Not getting any, eh?"; "You ought to go back to the barracks!"; "Maybe I could give you some tips?"; "That's it, you bastard!"; "Steady on!"; "Don't you dare get blood on my carpet!"
At this point, when they had rolled apart due to Richard's streaming nose, Bingley interposed, "Perhaps you two have had a trifle too much brandy?"
By the time Darcy finally managed to descend the secret stairs, it was past midnight. Stepping out of the wardrobe, he found the room in darkness and headed for the bed.
Upon approaching, he perceived Elizabeth under the covers and noticed a guttering candle that had been concealed by the bed hangings. So she had waited for him but presumably given up and fallen asleep.
Approaching more closely he saw she had prepared herself for bed. Her hair had been brushed out and a plait fell over her shoulder. She was wearing her chemise, which gaped enticingly at the front.
Overcome with mixed feelings of tenderness and lust, he wanted nothing more than to strip down to his shirt and crawl into bed beside her, but it would not do. It would be wrong to do so without asking her permission, and he did not want to wake her from her slumber when she had a long journey to undertake in the morning.
But what to do? Darcy couldn't bring himself to go back to his own cold bed. He yearned to have his arms around Elizabeth.
After fifteen minutes of pacing the floor in his stockinged feet, Darcy finally thought of what he deemed to be an acceptable solution. It was improper, but they'd left proper behind with the secret stair, hadn't they? Most importantly, Darcy did not think Elizabeth would object.
Returning upstairs, he pulled the covers from his bed and dragged them downstairs. Removing his waistcoat and slipping his breeches and stockings off, he lay down on top of the counterpane beside her and pulled the covers from his own bed over himself. Snuggling up to her, he inhaled the scent of her hair. It smelled of lavender and her own musky perfume. Draping his hand over her hip and spooning himself against her, Darcy fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming they were already married.
Elizabeth spent a comfortable night cocooned in a delicious warmth and woke with a wonderful feeling of well-being and safety. As she emerged from her sleep, she realised that she was in the Darcy townhouse, and it was Saturday, the day she would return to Hertfordshire. She had completed most of her packing last night, and it only remained for her to finish her toilette before the trunk could be secured and taken downstairs. It was a shame Fitzwilliam had not been able to come to her last night. He had obviously not expected Richard's arrival, but she realized he would want to spend some time with his cousin.
As her eyes fluttered open Elizabeth became aware that something was different, but she found herself at a loss to know what it was. Stretching, the back of her hand brushed something soft behind her, and she turned to discover her fiancé in bed beside her. Her heart gave a skip, whether from alarm or some other emotion, she did not dwell. She quickly perceived that Darcy was lying on top of the counterpane underneath some covers that had appeared from somewhere else. Elizabeth smiled to herself, flattered that he'd wanted to be with her and made himself uncomfortable in order to preserve her sensibilities. He was still sound asleep. Propping herself on her elbow, Elizabeth took the opportunity to observe him at her leisure. His hair was adorably tussled, and there was stubble on his jaw and upper lip. She could clearly see where it joined his sideburns. His eyelashes were long. Any girl would be jealous of them. Elizabeth could see there was a small mole hidden beneath his left sideburn that she had never noticed before. She leaned closer so that she could feel his breath on her face. It felt so warm on her skin.
Reclining back on the pillow, she admired his straight nose, his beautiful Cupid's bow lips, and the s
light cleft in his chin before she realised that she could see straight down the front of his shirt. The sight sent a thrill deep down inside her.
When Darcy opened his eyes in the morning, it was to find a pair of brown eyes observing him.
"Good morning, my love," Elizabeth said.
Darcy felt a wave of tenderness for this beautiful woman who would be his. How young she looked with her hair in a plait!
He reached to kiss her tenderly and was suddenly glad his plans for last night had been thwarted. She was so chaste and lovely! He couldn't have imposed on her once Richard had disturbed her sensibilities with his vile hints of what might have passed between them.
"Good morning darling," he said. "I hope Richard didn't upset you last night."
"No, Fitzwilliam. I could see he was just trying to rile you and didn't take it amiss. Charlotte's brothers were forever teasing each other."
"He should have had more manners."
"Maybe he's jealous," she smiled, sliding a hand through the opening of his shirt.
Darcy quaked and sighed at her touch, craning his head forward to engage her in a kiss.
"I suppose I should go. Finn will appear soon," he said regretfully as their lips parted.
"Could I ask one favour before you go?"
"Anything," he replied, wondering what she might request.
"Kiss me with your shirt off?"
He paused for a moment, wondering if she realised the full import of what she was asking.
"If I take my shirt off my dear, I won't have a stitch on."
She blushed faintly before getting a bold look in her eye.
"You still have the covers," she replied.
Darcy smiled back at her and then pulled his shirt over his head. A wave of the most delicious scent assaulted her senses.
Elizabeth stared in appreciation at his broad chest, reaching out to tentatively touch a bicep. It was so hard–like flesh wrapped round a brick.
He leaned forward to claim her lips. Sighing, she collapsed back onto the pillows and wound her arms around his neck.
I Met Mr Darcy Via Luton Page 40