by P. O. Dixon
“Actually, Mother, you may count me among those who wish my cousin joy. I could not be happier for him,” replied Miss de Bourgh, a rather frail young woman of a sickly constitution.
“Bravo, Anne,” the colonel exclaimed, standing and clapping.
Her ladyship glared at her nephew once again. “You have been warned, Nephew!”
Anne said, “Finally, we shall have an end to this ridiculous charade that my cousin and I are meant for each other.”
“Anne, are you out of your mind? After all that I have done to secure this alliance—to guarantee your place in society as the next mistress of Pemberley, is this the gratitude I am to receive? My own daughter giving up so easily as this and with an offer of felicitations as well?”
Lady Catherine threw an agitated glance about the room as though silently counting those who were against her and those who were with her. No doubt determining that she was all but alone, except for possibly her vicar, she cried, “This is not to be borne. I demand all of you out of my home and out of my sight this instant—everyone save those who are my own flesh and blood.”
Bingley, who had remained uncharacteristically quiet, bore a look of utter confusion.
Darcy held up his hand. “No one is going anywhere.”
Mr. Collins stood. “Begging your pardon, Mr. Darcy. I believe I am of a mind to yield to the desires of my noble patroness, Lady Catherine. I do not mind speaking for my wife as well as my fair cousins, for they are all under my protection.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth and read in her face the desire to leave as well. “Very well. Charles, you are welcome to remain here as my guest at Rosings. I shall escort the Hunsford party to the parsonage. The two of us will talk when I return.”
Accustomed to following Darcy’s lead, his friend readily acceded to Darcy’s dictate, and shortly after that, Darcy, Elizabeth, Jane and the Collinses took their leave.
Chapter 14
Love Never Fails
Later that same evening when it was just the two of them in the parlor, Darcy, sensing that Elizabeth had grown more and more pensive throughout the evening, took her hand in his and asked, “Are you quite all right? I know that events of the day took a most unexpected turn—one neither of us could have anticipated and yet here we are—engaged to be married. I cannot deny being exceedingly happy, but if there is a chance that you are not, I hope you will tell me.”
The irony of espousing those sentiments in that very room was not lost on either of them, for it was there that Elizabeth had uttered those heart-wrenching words to him: “I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
Elizabeth pulled her hand away and walked to the window. She peered outside into the darkness, the memory of that fateful evening when he had proposed to her in that very room—her unrelenting companion.
He followed her and then coaxed her to turn and face him.
She smiled a little, though not enough to waylay her concerns. “I am happy—truly I am. It is just that, I misjudged you terribly. Thinking you were cruel and heartless with a selfish disdain for the feelings of others when the truth is that you are the best man I know. I shall be truly honored to be your wife, but I cannot help but think you deserve someone who is worthier of your ardent love and devotion—a woman who loves you just as much as you love her.”
“And you feel you are not that woman?”
“I—I have never been in love before. I am not even sure I know what love is. What I mean to say is I always thought I knew. I was absolutely convinced that Jane loved Mr. Bingley and that he loved her. I was convinced that the two of them would see each other again and declare their abiding love for each other, and he would whisk her away and marry her, but seeing the two of them together of late, I no longer know what to think.”
“I really wish you would not compare what we have to what your sister and Bingley may or may not have. I love you with all my heart.”
“But how can you be sure?”
“Perhaps it would help if I shared with you my thoughts on being in love.”
“I should like that.”
With that, he took her hand in his. Giving it a gentle squeeze, he began. “Love is patient. It is unwavering. Love is selfless. Love never fails.
“For me, especially, it is awakening every day knowing if I do not see anyone else but you—if I do not speak with anyone else but you, I must consider myself the luckiest man in the world.
“It is being by your side and knowing there is no place I would rather be.
“It is my wanting to give you all that I have and my striving every day to be the one and only man you deserve.” Darcy brushed his thumb across Elizabeth’s chin, arresting a single teardrop in its track.
“And that is how I know that I love you with all my heart and soul. Now that you know my feelings, I ask you to examine the inner workings of your own heart closely, and then tell me how you feel about me, how you feel about us, and most importantly how you feel about our future life as man and wife.”
“I do not know that I can.”
“Will you try?”
Elizabeth nodded. At length, she said, “As a start, I would have to say that I have awakened each morning since the day you handed me the letter explaining things with but one thought uppermost on my mind: will I see you?
“Since our outing, I can think of little else than the possibility of our spending time in each other’s company—apart from anyone else—all alone — just the two of us.
“At times, a nagging feeling overcomes me whenever I recall the manner in which I misjudged your character almost from the first moment of our acquaintance and the part I may have played in poisoning others against you all in a vain attempt to mask my own wounded pride, And as much as I like to remember the past only as it brings me pleasure, the shame I suffer in having behaved so badly is something I feel I ought never to forget.
“Then again, there are those memories that I secretly relish: the verbal sparring that marked so many of our earliest interactions—the excitement of it all in knowing that here was a man who was truly my equal, and dare I say, often my superior in wit and intellect—a man of consequence… of sense and education, who does not dismiss my opinions merely based on my sex. A man whom, had I not judged so harshly from the start, I might have admired and respected. A man whom I do indeed honor and respect. As I said, the best man I know.”
Mr. Darcy raised Elizabeth’s hand to his lips and bestowed a light kiss on her palm. “Having said as much, can you honestly say you do not love me, Elizabeth? Because between you and me, I think you do—more than you know.”
“You do?”
“I do.” He placed his hand on her chin. “And here is something else you ought to know about your future husband.”
Leaning closer, he moistened his lips, prompting her to do the same as he gazed into her eyes—her amazingly dark, questioning eyes. “I am prepared to be a very patient man.”
With such an avowal as that, Mr. Darcy brushed his lips against hers and sealed his promise with a kiss. Their first kiss, which was perfect in every way—everything a first kiss ought to be.
Chapter 15
Their Love Affair
An escalation of the chaos in the aftermath of Darcy’s engagement to Elizabeth did not cascade throughout the countryside as he had expected. Darcy knew he should not have been so pleased when he learned the reason behind the calm, for it had to do with his aunt’s health. Lady Catherine had taken to her bed. Darcy never recalled his aunt being sick the entire time he had known her. What was more, she refused to see him. She even refused to see Colonel Fitzwilliam and her daughter Anne.
No one knew the depth of her ladyship’s suffering was the only prognosis her physician would offer. No one—not even him. What was her family to do?
Darcy knew what he wanted to do, and it had nothing to do with hovering outside his aunt’s door waiting for a sign of her impro
ved health.
He wanted to spend as much time with Elizabeth as propriety would allow, and that is precisely what he did.
Finally, he courted Elizabeth the way she was meant to be courted all along. Each day brought them closer and closer to a better understanding of each other and how their future as man and wife would be.
So much as he wanted to travel to Hertfordshire to seek Elizabeth’s father’s permission to marry her, together with his intended, the decision was made to wait a while longer albeit for different reasons. For one, Elizabeth enjoyed being courted by Mr. Darcy outside her mother’s influence. Then too there was her concern for her sister Jane and the progress of her courtship with Mr. Bingley—or rather lack thereof. While Jane’s determination to feign indifference to the young man remained steadfast, Elizabeth was not prepared to give up on the hope that things would resolve themselves for the better. The estranged couple only needed more time. What better place than Kent, away from both their families for a rekindling of their love affair?
As for Darcy’s reason, he supposed there was a real chance that his aunt’s health issues were more than a product of her anger toward him, but rather a consequence of her disappointed hopes. At her age, a broken heart was not something to be easily dismissed. A part of him really did care for her. More than that, he loved her. He wanted to be there should his aunt’s condition seriously deteriorate.
In the meantime, Darcy spent his days with Elizabeth, and what could be better than that?
* * *
Sleep was fast becoming one of Mr. Darcy’s favorite pastimes—second, of course, to time spent with Elizabeth. He especially enjoyed their long walks in the park during the earliest hours of the day. Indeed, it was the stuff of their daytime encounters that fueled his nocturnal rendezvous.
The charming look in her dark, bewitching eyes that he, by now, was confident she reserved solely for him. Her high spiritedness and willingness to throw decorum, even caution, to the wind when it suited her. Truth be told, he had spent his nights dreaming of her almost from the moment he met her and started to feel the danger of spending time in her presence.
Now Darcy’s dreams of Elizabeth were changed. Still fueled by his desire for her, but far more pleasurable than when she was always beyond his grasp. The certain knowledge that Elizabeth was his and he was hers evidenced itself deep inside his soul.
That night while counting all the things his intended had done to encourage his love for her, he slowly drifted off to sleep experiencing such vivid dreams, they seared themselves into his memory as though they were real.
Elizabeth came to him as she assured him she would during the earliest hours of the morning—long before the sun was due to rise over the horizon. Their eyes met, and the promise of hours of passionate release drew them into each other’s arms.
By now, neither Darcy nor his dearest Elizabeth were strangers to what the other desired most. He was a patient teacher, and she was a fast learner. This was but one of the things Darcy loved most about her.
Elizabeth boldly anticipated his need—even did her best to encourage him with her soft hands and ultimately her soft lips. At length, her soft moans incited the promised release.
It was now her turn to be similarly gratified.
There was no need to rush. They had all morning, but experience had taught them that such pleasures as they enjoyed with each other could be enjoyed over and over again in blissful repetition. Thus, Darcy slowly proceeded to adore his intended. Taking her in his arms once more and lifting her just so, he suckled her through the thin fabric of her muslin gown precisely as he needed to do until she trembled.
Were they in his sizeable warm bed, he would have lowered her to her back and trailed kisses from her head to her stomach, adjusting her gown as he needed to along the way while continuing on to his ultimate destination where an intoxicating feast awaited his arrival.
But this was a dream. Elizabeth was now in his bed. And this being a dream with no risk of discovery nor lasting consequences, he buried himself deep inside her. Together with his roaming hands and his ravishing lips, he attended all those places her body demanded such attention most.
It pleased Darcy immensely that his future wife accepted every inch of the love he had to give so willingly and with such abandon. Best of all, he knew that while such pleasures as they now enjoyed exploring their passions for each other were only in his dreams, he also knew this: Dreams unfolded as they did not without reason.
Every morning he awakened with the same thought that accompanied him to sleep the night before.
I can hardly wait for my dreams of making Miss Elizabeth Bennet my wife to come true.
Chapter 16
Indisposed for Employment
The notion of being ill did not sit well with Lady Catherine de Bourgh at all. Indeed, it was her abhorrence even though both her most beloved sister and her only child suffered sickly constitutions. However, there were times when surrendering to malaise was absolutely necessary. Hearing that her favorite nephew was on the heels of committing one of the most heinous sins imaginable for someone of their ilk, that being aligning himself through marriage to a person of lesser birth, was as sure a cause to be ill as anything else in the world.
Still, her ladyship did not mean to waste her time while confined to her sickbed doing nothing. She intended to put an end to her nephew’s madness and nothing else on Earth was more important than that.
A part of her wanted nothing more than to banish Miss Elizabeth Bennet from her midst altogether. Another part of her knew that it was far better to keep her enemies close while she devised their ultimate demise.
Not that she intended to inflict any real harm to the little country upstart who made the mistake of crossing her—indeed crossing the entire Fitzwilliam family. Surely such a wretched young creature could be worked on without reverting to extreme measures.
I want nothing but time alone with her to carry my point. I shall make her see the error of her ways. Surely she is too wise to expect to find happiness with my nephew after she has been the means of causing a rift in the only family he has ever known.
Mr. Collins’s wife’s taunting words echoed in Lady Catherine’s busy mind: “As the wife of Mrs. Darcy, my friend will have no cause to repine.”
Who on earth does she think she is to speak to me in such a way? Mr. Collins had better handle his wife before I have cause to deal with her myself. No doubt the continuing presence of that impertinent Miss Elizabeth Bennet has affected Mrs. Collins’s reason and made her forget who I am and what is owed to me by her husband as well as herself.
All of a sudden, Lady Catherine’s maid entered the room unannounced, as though she supposed her mistress was asleep. Seeing that she had been mistaken, she apologized profusely. Backing away toward the door, she asked, “May I have tea prepared on your behalf, your ladyship?”
“You certainly may not,” Lady Catherine replied. “If I wanted tea, I should have rung for tea. Now, leave me at once.”
The other lady said, “Again, I beg your pardon for the intrusion, and if I am allowed, I would like to say what a pleasure it is to see you are recovering so well.”
Her ladyship reared her head. “Who said anything about my so-called recovery?”
“Well—it is just that you look as though you are at the height of good health.”
“Are you now a physician?”
The maid shook her head. “No, your ladyship. I am not.”
“Then I suggest you keep your opinions on my health to yourself. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes, your ladyship. I meant no harm.”
“Your intention can have nothing at all to do with me. Now, leave me at once else I shall be forced to do that which neither of us would wish.”
The servant was gone directly.
Alone once again to ponder what to do about her nephew’s foolishness, her ladyship’s encounter with her lady’s maid prompted her to devise the perfect scheme. At last,
she had a reason to emerge from her sick bed.
I have squandered enough time, and now that I know precisely how to act, I shall not waste another minute to carry my point.
* * *
Feeling rather indisposed for employment, what with her sister Jane and her friend Charlotte spending more and more time in each other’s company of late, calling on the local parishioners’ homes, and with Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, and the colonel enjoying a morning of horseback riding, Elizabeth resolved to indulge herself in one of her favorite pastimes: a long solitary ramble. So much had happened since her arrival in Kent some weeks ago. All but declared a spinster in the making by her own mother’s account, she was now engaged to be married to the best man she had ever known.
Elizabeth could not rightfully say she was the happiest woman in all of England, but she was pretty sure she was well on her way. Time spent alone with Mr. Darcy after the rest of the household had retired for the evening was blissful. She could hardly wait for a repetition of all that had transpired between the two of them the night before: the lingering touch of his hand on hers, his hands on her chin, his warm breath against her earlobe, the brush of his lips on her temple, her eyelids, each of her cheeks—her lips.
She placed her hands on her lips in remembrance of the sweet taste of his. What a pleasure it is falling in love with Mr. Darcy.
Walking along on what was by now her favorite lane, for it had been there that she had enjoyed so many chance meetings with him in the past, she was perfectly contented to recall his every look and his every word with newfound pleasure. Now it all made sense to her. Questions she at one time considered impertinent, if not intrusive, resonated with purpose.
He asked about my opinion on the Collinses’ marriage to ascertain my thoughts on what I believe my own marriage should entail. He argued the benefit of good roads to allay any fears he thought I might have about living so far away from Hertfordshire—so far away as Pemberley, in Derbyshire.
