Seven Days With Mr Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  At last, they were under the arbour and skittered to a stop. Keeping her hand in his, Darcy used his free one to pull the bonnet from her hair and remove the remaining pins. Her hair looked wild, and her cheeks flushed brighter than the day she had arrived at Netherfield with her skirts knee deep in mud. He pushed a tendril from her face and rested his hand on her cheek, hating the leather barrier of his glove. Elizabeth’s face turned up to him, inviting what he most wanted to do.

  “I will never stop chasing you, Elizabeth,” he said, resisting the impulse to claim her lips, still panting for breath by the barest thread of control.

  Elizabeth’s cheeks flamed brighter, but her eyes never left his. “Tell me another secret.”

  “Roses remind me of you. Their scent, their beauty, their vibrancy.” Darcy let his hand fall from her cheek, expecting a rebuke.

  “I never loved Mr. Marshall. I never encouraged him. He was not the king for me.”

  As she referenced Marshall’s ball when they had dressed as lovers, and she wished to tell him about the man she desired, but he could not bear to hear it, she placed her hand back in his.

  “I thought you wanted him. I tried to be happy for you—to not be in the way.” Darcy could resist no longer and raised it to his lips. If he could not claim hers, then he must kiss her somewhere. “I never thought you would allow me that.”

  Elizabeth took in a shaky breath. “That is the first time I have allowed a gentleman to kiss my hand.”

  “Good,” Darcy smirked then retrieved her bonnet from the ground. He held out hairpins while she hastily rearranged her hair. When she finished restoring herself, he kissed her hand again before placing it on his arm. “We should return for breakfast.”

  Elizabeth nodded in agreement and allowed him to lead her to his home. It all felt surreal. It was too much. More happiness than he had ever dared to hope to have. Plans for the future bounced in his mind. He would woo Elizabeth while she stayed here. Once settled at her uncle’s, he would propose again then seek her father’s blessing. Unfortunately, she would likely return to Hertfordshire before they could marry but he could not contain the sincerest wishes of his heart that she would remain at Pemberley forever.

  Arriving at the house, they were separated by their friends. Darcy could pay no attention to anything said around him until he heard a scheme for the ladies to go walking on their own later. Just before Elizabeth entered the dining-room, Darcy stole to her side.

  “I wish you to be careful when out walking without me.”

  Elizabeth looked up at him, confusion and perhaps defiance in her eyes. “Why?”

  Darcy shook his head. “You are unfamiliar with the paths there might be roots or rocks…” He could not bear to think of his nightmare at this moment. “Will you promise me?”

  Elizabeth paused for a moment and cocked her head to one side. Then, she met his eyes, “I promise.”

  Relief washed through Darcy. He could see from Elizabeth’s expression that she apprehended the importance of his request and saw his relief. She would inevitably ask him about it later. For now, they had a breakfast to enjoy and a day’s worth of entertainment. The activities of the day provided them with little privacy for conversation. He settled for whispering to meet him in the garden on the morrow as he observed her embroidery.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The following morning, Darcy awaited Elizabeth in the rose garden, a bouquet in hand. This is how he should have courted her at Rosings. Months of agony could have been avoided if only he had been open about his feelings and intentions. He looked over the garden wondering if some Darcy ancestor created it for his wife. Walled gardens were a relic of centuries ago whereas the building of Pemberley was modern, rebuilt on the original foundation during his father’s childhood. Hearing footsteps behind him, he turned to find Elizabeth approaching with a smile on her face.

  “Good morning,” she said.

  “Good morning,” he bowed over her hand and kissed it before presenting the flowers. “You look lovely today.”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Thank you. You look handsome as well.” Her cheeks turned redder with her words.

  “Do you really think so?” He had never been vain, but hearing Elizabeth found him handsome gave him more pride than he knew he could have.

  “You never knew you were handsome? Surely not all the ladies desire you for your wealth.”

  “I would not know,” he squeezed her hand. “I did not pay attention to any of them. I never wanted them.” He had never really wanted a woman until Elizabeth. His parents’ marriage and mother’s affairs made him wary of attraction and entanglements.

  Elizabeth turned to walk around the garden but did not relinquish his hand. Soon, he would have to know the feel of her skin. Now, they still observed the rules of propriety with gloves when out of doors.

  “The rose garden is lovely, but I want to see more,” Elizabeth said. “I decided against walking with the other ladies. I would rather walk with you.”

  Darcy grinned at her words and led her to some of the park. He knew the history of every field and glen. As they strolled, hand in hand, Darcy told Elizabeth about the estate. “My grandfather rebuilt the house, determined to make it a modern structure. Construction took five years, and during that time, the family stayed at the estate in Shropshire—when not in Town that is.”

  “Modern and impressive!” Elizabeth glanced back at the house. “Everything is so well laid out with none of the awkwardness of adding wings or refurbishing a room’s purpose.”

  “Thank you, but I can take no credit for any of it.”

  “I never would have thought you could be so humble,” she said and avoided his eyes. “I was dreadfully wrong in my estimation of your character.”

  “You are not to blame,” Darcy said and gently turned her face back to him. “I concealed my feelings and my nature from everyone, even myself. I thought I knew what was right but I followed it with little conviction. I quite needed your lesson and revelation.”

  Elizabeth blushed at his words. “And I needed yours. Your letter…”

  “I hope you do not hate me for writing it. I think you did not like reading its contents.”

  She shook her head. “No, I did not happily learn how wrong I had been, but I was thankful to learn the truth. I was so blinded to believe Wickham the better man and to mock you at every turn. I do not know that I ever spoke to you without wishing to pain you.”

  “I have always been a glutton for punishment,” he laughed. “I found it refreshing and irresistible.”

  Elizabeth joined his laughter. “Dare not say such things, you will feed my vanity.”

  “You deserve every kind word I could say,” Darcy smiled down at her. Then he noticed the sun climbing in the sky. “Come, we should return to the house.”

  As they walked in companionable silence, Darcy drew his courage. “Would you join me tomorrow after breakfast for a substantial walk? There is a place I would like to show you. I think your uncle will allow it.”

  Elizabeth smirked. “I have often walked alone with you.”

  “At Rosings we met by accident and thus far here, we have not left the view of the house.”

  “I see,” Elizabeth’s eyes sparkled. “I very much look forward to it.”

  Arriving at the house, they parted in the hall. The morning mail had arrived, requiring Darcy to tend to it before breaking his fast. By the time he entered the room, his guests had left. Instead of being able to join them, the steward needed his time, followed by Mrs. Reynolds. After two hours of meetings, he found them on the lawn playing croquet. The Gardiner children had joined them, and Elizabeth held one on her lap as she cheered the others on. She was precisely the mistress Pemberley needed, and Darcy could wait no longer to secure her.

  *****

  Mr. Gardiner had no qualms about allowing Darcy to escort Elizabeth around all Pemberley had to offer. He sent them off with a wink, but Darcy understood the gravity of earning the man’s tru
st. With basket and blanket one arm and Elizabeth on the other, Darcy could not contain his grin.

  Elizabeth chattered and pointed at various groupings of trees, flowers, and birds as they walked. If she had any inkling of the serious intent behind Darcy’s request, she hid it well. As they winded past the river and went over a simple bridge, they continued through a narrow path toward a glen, now and then with clearings of a stream. Elizabeth grew silent, allowing the sounds of nature to hum around them. Birds chirped in trees and called their mates and rabbits hopped through brush. About a mile through the woods, Darcy turned them down a now mostly overgrown path.

  “Watch your step here,” he said, and Elizabeth gripped his arm tighter. She did not shirk from the task, however, and had worn sturdy walking boots. With practised aplomb, she managed to step over mangled roots and twigs. “I have not come here in many years.”

  After a sharp turn, a beautiful clearing opened to them. Woods surrounded it, and butterflies flitted through the meadow. The stream gurgled nearby and hundreds of memories flooded Darcy’s mind of his childhood refuge. He had never shared it with another.

  “What a haven,” Elizabeth smiled up at him.

  “Come, there is a flat rock perfect for a picnic.”

  He led Elizabeth to the destination and then spread the blanket down. Once they both settled on it, he removed his gloves and brought out the refreshments packed by the cook. Elizabeth freed her hands from their leather confines, and Darcy eyed them greedily.

  “Thank you for bringing me here,” she smiled as she sipped the packed cider and removed her bonnet. The sun shone down on her hair, glistening in its rays.

  “I have never shared this with another,” he admitted.

  A slow smile crept across Elizabeth’s face, and she took in all of the scene. “It is a secret, then?”

  “Yes,” Darcy smiled and leaned back so he could see Elizabeth’s face as his hand lay less than an inch from hers.

  “Would you tell me a secret, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

  “What would you like to know?” Darcy focused on where their hands nearly touched. Did she have any idea what she did to him? The light breeze sent her lavender and rose fragrance drifting to him. What he would give to have that scent surround him always.

  Elizabeth lightly chuckled. “If I direct you to it then I fear it hardly counts as a secret.”

  Lifting his eyes, he sought to put all his earnestness into his gaze as he focused on her. “I will tell you anything you wish to know.”

  Elizabeth held his gaze for a moment. “Why do you always ask me to take care when I am out walking?”

  Because I still love you, he wanted to answer. Because I know the pain of holding your dead body to my chest and wishing you back to life. Because I know I am nothing without you…

  “Darcy?”

  “Forgive me. I promised you the truth, but I fear it brings painful memories to me.”

  Elizabeth furrowed her brow. “Do I seem so fragile?”

  “No. It is nothing so rational, and you will think I am mad when I tell you.”

  A look of surprise crossed Elizabeth’s face followed by a small smile. “You will tell me then? You will not put me off?”

  “I keep my promises, Elizabeth,” he said lowly and thought he saw her shiver. “Are you chilled?”

  “No,” she blushed. “Please, continue.”

  “Do you recall the last time we saw one another in Kent?”

  “Yes,” she said softly. “You looked very unwell.”

  “I have often suffered from vivid dreams…usually of things past. The night before that day, however, I had a dream which will forever haunt me.”

  “I am sorry,” Elizabeth whispered. “I have long regretted my behaviour that evening—”

  “I do not tell you this so you may chastise yourself. I share far greater blame for our misunderstandings, and we have long moved past them, have we not?”

  “Yes…”

  “Then let us forget the past.”

  Elizabeth nodded. “Very well. About this dream?”

  Darcy remained silent for a moment. As always, he struggled with expressing the facts without inserting his emotions. Losing the battle, he shook his head and closed his eyes, feeling the pain again.

  “That night, I had an inexplicable dream in which, among many other things, you sought relief by walking after I had upset you. And you…died.”

  Elizabeth gasped and paled, bringing her hand to her mouth.

  “Words cannot convey the torment I felt and still feel when I recall it. Although a dream, it felt as though I lived it. My selfishness had brought your demise, and I will never forgive myself for it.”

  “Well, that is ridiculous,” she laughed.

  Darcy jolted at her reaction. He had not expected her to laugh at him.

  “I do not find you ridiculous, but you cannot blame yourself for a dream. As you see, I am alive and well.”

  Darcy shook his head. “You cannot understand. I can feel you in my arms, still. My throat can still ache from growing hoarse after spending the night in anguished sobs. The absolute desperation I had, knowing I drove the woman I loved to her death—”

  Elizabeth’s hand on his cheek rendered him mute. He nuzzled into it, hardly believing she had touched him so affectionately.

  “I am so sorry. I have tormented you.”

  Darcy watched as her eyes welled with tears and she began to slip her hand away. He clasped his over it. “Stay.”

  Elizabeth gave him a tremulous smile. “As you wish.” She dabbed at her eyes with the back of her free hand. “I suppose I owe you a secret now.”

  Darcy stared into her eyes. If he moved now, even to nod his head, he would capture her in his arms, and he knew what calamity that impulse would bring.

  “I call you William when I think of you,” Elizabeth did not look away.

  “You think of me?”

  She chewed the bottom of her lip before breaking into a mischievous grin. “That would be another secret, and it is your turn now, William.”

  Her voice saying his name brought a shiver of pleasure up his spine and made him dizzy. “I have often dreamt of you in this clearing and everywhere else at Pemberley.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a breath and blushed. “I have barely stopped thinking of you since the moment we met—although it has certainly taken many different turns. I blush to think of what I called you then but now…” Elizabeth shrugged.

  “Perhaps hearing Georgiana say my name so often has affected you.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “It is your turn, again.”

  Releasing her hand from his cheek and bringing it to his lips, he confessed, “I never want you to leave.” This was a dangerous game, and Darcy had never been much of a gambler. Now, he was laying all his cards on the proverbial table.

  “I hoped you would say that,” Elizabeth said breathlessly.

  Still holding her hand, Darcy rubbed his thumb over it and found himself leaning forward a little, struggling to keep his eyes on hers and not her tempting mouth. He only held one more secret, and he could keep it no more. He would rather face her rejection daily than to keep the words to himself. He knew that route only brought suffering. “I still love you.”

  When she did not yank her hand away or rebuke him, he leant his forehead against hers, content to merely be so close to her. “My wishes and affections are unchanged but one word from you—”

  “I love you,” Elizabeth said.

  Darcy could hear the smile in her voice, and he lifted his head. Her brown eyes shone with passion and tenderness. The loving gaze he had seen a hundred times on so many others and now, finally, him. Remnants of ice broke from his heart as her love finally warmed him through.

  “I never want to be parted from you again,” he said realising he had one more secret after all. “Will you marry me and be my wife?”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth breathed. “My secret is I have wanted you to ask me for months. Sho
rtly after I arrived in London.”

  “For so long? I am stupid!”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “No, it is hardly a secret if one does not hide it. I have four sisters. I am very adept at hiding my secrets.”

  “I want to know them all,” Darcy grinned. He could wait no more. “I wish to kiss you,” he cupped her cheeks with both hands.

  She dropped her gaze. “That is perhaps not such a secret.”

  Elizabeth lifted her eyes and smiled. Darcy leaned forward to taste the beginning of her laugh on his lips. It tasted sweet and loving. Although he craved more, he pulled back lest he frighten her.

  Elizabeth’s lashes fluttered, and she sighed happily. “If I tell you I wish for you to do that again, you will keep it a secret, won’t you?”

  Darcy threw his head back and laughed, feeling lighter than he ever had before. She would bring such joy to his life.

  “It is very safe with me,” he said as he wrapped his arms around her and leaned in so close their chests touched.

  This time, when their lips met, Darcy took his time. He started with one corner of her mouth and kissed across to the other. With each touch, the pressure increased and Elizabeth sighed against him. Bringing one hand up to cup her cheek, he held her face in place as he sealed their love with all the things he struggled to say. Pulling back, he saw the dazed look on Elizabeth’s face, the satisfied smile, and her dark lashes against her pale skin as she had her eyes closed in surrender.

  “My Elizabeth,” he kissed her again. “Mine, at last.”

  Elizabeth nodded and leaned forward, wanting and expecting more. Darcy smiled to himself before meeting her tantalising lips once more. Running his tongue along the seam, Elizabeth gasped. Darcy touched his tongue to Elizabeth’s for the briefest second. He wanted her to get used to the idea. She pulled back, and her eyes flew to his. Then, she threw her arms around Darcy, nearly tackling him to the ground. He could not resist her offer, and soon their tongues were tangling against each other as they held each other tight. The feeling of her in his arms stirred him more than any dream or fantasy. This was really, truly Elizabeth giving herself to him, loving him, and asking to be loved in return.