by P. O. Dixon
Withdrawing her hand, Jane stood. She meant to walk away, but instead, she was now standing face to face with the colonel.
He imagined himself smoothing his hand along Jane’s chin while gazing into her eyes and leaning ever so close. He moistened his lips, which encouraged her to do likewise. Closing their eyes, their lips met for the first time as though it was meant to be the last time. As close as the two of them stood to each other, it was almost as though he was not merely imagining the sweet taste of her lips.
She is exquisite indeed. Colonel Fitzwilliam seized hold of her hand once more. He squeezed it ever so tenderly. At length, he released it. “I believe Bingley is sorry for having hurt you in the past. As much as it pains me to say this, for reasons that are entirely selfish, I believe you should allow him the chance to prove it to you.”
Chapter 21
Undeniably Real
The evening at Darcy House ended far sooner than Miss Caroline Bingley would have wished. With Mr. Darcy having prolonged his stay in Kent for so long as he had, she missed him terribly, especially since the London Season was well underway. Given the convenience of the hour, Miss Bingley and her sister, Mrs. Louisa Hurst, remained in the parlor of the latter’s London townhouse to discuss the events of the evening.
“Pray tell me I am not the only one who takes umbrage at the two eldest Bennet daughters being guests at Darcy House?” Caroline asked, having been secretly vexed all evening long.
“How are their being guests at Darcy House so different from their being guests at Netherfield last autumn? You did not seem to be bothered then.”
“Trust me, Louisa, I was more than a little bothered. I am simply too well-bred to exercise anything less than the epitome of kindness and civility toward houseguests however unwelcome they may be.”
Louisa nodded. “You did go out of your way to be generous to Miss Bennet—even remaining by her bedside in her sister’s absence.”
“I did indeed and all that despite her poorly conceived plan to ensnare our brother Charles by riding all the way to Netherfield Park from her father’s estate on horseback in the pouring rain. Had it not been for my prodigious care of her, she might very well have died of a cold.”
The older woman laughed at her sister’s conjecture. “Surely you do not subscribe to the notion that it is possible to die from a cold—a trifling one at that?”
Caroline shrugged. “Anything is possible, I suppose. But that is beside the point. My point is that Jane had a legitimate reason for remaining in our midst so long as she did, albeit painfully contrived. What possible excuse can she and her sister Eliza Bennet have for staying at Darcy House?”
“You will recall during dinner that Miss Elizabeth owed being there overnight to their unexpected arrival in town while their Cheapside relations were away. What was Mr. Darcy supposed to do after escorting them from Kent? Abandon them by the wayside?”
“What kind of excuse is that? Have they no other relations that might have taken them in? Better still, what prevented them from journeying on to Hertfordshire? I wager something untoward is afoot.”
“What, pray tell, do you suppose that might be, Caroline, my dear?”
Caroline threw both hands up. “I do not have the slightest idea. Although, I detected something rather odd between Eliza Bennet and Mr. Darcy that was not so evident between them when we were all in Hertfordshire. Surely you must have noticed it too.”
“Are you referring to the fact that she assumed the position that you supposed ought to have been yours when we all went into the dining room?”
“That little upstart practically pushed me out of the way in order to prevail on Mr. Darcy to escort her.”
“Not that he objected,” Louisa said. “In fact, he seemed rather pleased by the development.”
“I do not know that I would go so far as to say that.”
“You certainly would if you would but be honest with yourself.”
“What on earth does that mean? When have I ever been less than honest with myself so far as Mr. Darcy is concerned? He and I have always enjoyed a certain degree of intimacy that sets our connection with each other apart from his relationship with any other young woman of his acquaintance.”
Louisa gave her sister an incredulous look. “Are you even listening to yourself? You, more than anyone, suffered a tendency to tease Mr. Darcy, mercilessly at times, over his infatuation with Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes. You even went so far as to tease him on his supposed impending nuptials: offering to be the first to wish him joy and remarking on the benefits to be endured with such a mother-in-law as Mrs. Bennet. And now when it is obvious that his so-called infatuation with Miss Elizabeth has developed into something so undeniably real, you choose to deny it still.”
“Surely you jest, Louisa. What I witnessed this evening was Eliza Bennet doing everything in her power to draw Mr. Darcy in with her feminine arts and allurements while he did his best to be a magnanimous host.”
“So, you did not see Mr. Darcy take Miss Elizabeth by the hand and squeeze it before reacquainting the two of you to each other? I confess it was subtle on his part, and no doubt meant for her benefit alone, but he did it all the same.”
“If what you say is true, and I am not saying that it is true, but if it indeed took place as you said, then I maintain that he was merely being kind.”
“I will not argue with you.”
“It is just as well that you do not, for you will never shake me from my opinion where anything having to do with Mr. Darcy is concerned. Men like him might admire women like Miss Elizabeth Bennet with her reckless regard for propriety and social mores, they may even covet them, but they do not marry them. I contend that Mr. Darcy is perfectly safe from her.”
“I posit that where Miss Elizabeth Bennet is concerned, Mr. Darcy is precisely where he wants to be.”
“What in heavens are you suggesting, Sister? Surely you do not think—” Caroline found herself at a loss for words.
Louisa said, “I know you are a maiden, Caroline, but surely you are not naive. There is a great deal of affection between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth—try as they might to hide it. Anyone who has ever been in love can look at the two of them and know they are completely enamored with each other.”
“Well, I just spent the past few hours with them, and I detected no such symptoms of affection. Besides, if what you posit is true, then surely Mr. Darcy would not have agreed to dance with me at the Richardson’s upcoming ball.”
“I cannot say that I heard him agree to anything in that regard. I recall your mentioning it and his paying you no mind at all, as he is wont to do in such instances as that.”
“He did not say no when he had every opportunity to do so, which is the surest affirmation I require.”
“What say you that we simply agree to disagree.”
“Oh, Louisa! Why are you being so disagreeable this evening? It is as though you are wishing for something more between Mr. Darcy and Miss Eliza Bennet.”
“My feelings on the matter have nothing at all to do with anything. It simply is what it is.”
Caroline arose from her seat, determined to quit the room and retire for the evening. “I refuse to talk with you when you go on and on this way. No doubt you simply mean to vex me, but tonight I have far better things to contend myself with than anything you have to say. I had much rather focus on the Richardson’s ball and what a pleasure it will be dancing the opening set with Mr. Darcy.”
“I hope you have pleasant dreams, Caroline.”
“As I hope to dream about dancing with Mr. Darcy, no doubt my dreams will be pleasant indeed.”
Chapter 22
Giving Her Cause
Soft candlelight guided Elizabeth’s journey through the halls of Darcy’s townhouse. Her reward for having reached her destination successfully was the sight of Mr. Darcy, casually attired and awaiting her arrival. He took her breath away. He had asked her to join him there at midnight. How could she possibly say
no?
She could not. The way he made her feel—the lessons he had taught her about what being in love entailed. Is there any wonder I never wish to be parted from him?
During those nights since they became engaged when decorum obligated them to be apart, only the privacy of her bedroom afforded the relief she desired.
She took great comfort in her belief that her future husband was a most proficient lover even though she did not like to dwell on how that came to be. She was, after all, the beneficiary of his prowess.
All things considered, I have no reason to repine.
Elizabeth was secretly grateful that her London relations were away from town, for if she and Mr. Darcy did nothing but hold hands all night, it would surely be enough for they would be together.
She smiled a little at this thought. No doubt we will do far more than merely hold hands.
Having been taught that sitting astride his lap might be employed as a means of taking her own pleasure, Elizabeth was easily persuaded to do so when she and Mr. Darcy settled down on the oversized couch, complete with ample pillows and a soft blanket which she surmised would be needed at some point.
Though fully clothed, the melding of their bodies was so natural—her softness, his hardness. Elizabeth peered deep into his dark, alluring eyes.
How could I have missed seeing how devastatingly handsome he is for so long as I did? Had I noticed sooner, might I have enjoyed the pleasure of far more nights like this? She certainly liked to think so.
She lowered her eyes from his to his slightly parted, moist, and inviting lips. Her lips met his. What started as a tender, sweet kiss gave way to fiery passion as though every moment spent apart from each other’s embrace that day had led to the promise of this one.
Their bodies, their hands, their fingers, and their lips all acted in satisfying accordance and together, Elizabeth and her lover lost themselves in each other’s arms.
Once their breathing calmed, Mr. Darcy rested his forehead against hers.
At length, he said, “You were very clever tonight, my love.”
“Clever, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded. “Is that what we are calling what just happened?”
He laughed a little at her retort. She loved the sound of Mr. Darcy’s laughter.
“Well, there is that, but in this instance, I am thinking of something else—rather someone else.”
“Who?”
“Miss Bingley…”
Adjusting her attitude slightly to command a better view of his face, Elizabeth seized hold of either end of his loosened cravat. “I do not think I appreciate the idea of your thinking of another woman—especially at such a time as this.”
“I only meant to tell you that I had almost forgotten how much I enjoy watching you thwart Miss Bingley at every turn.”
Her spirits rising to playfulness, Elizabeth said, “In that case, I forgive you. I must admit that Miss Bingley and I have a rather peculiar arrangement. I like to think what we share is a love-hate relationship.”
“Oh? How is that?”
“It is simple. She hates me, and I love giving her cause to do so.”
“You are very wicked, my love. How shall I punish you?”
“Let me think,” she said, tapping her finger on her lips. “Taunt me with your brooding eyes, tease me with your kisses. As proficient a lover as you are, I have no doubt you are the best arbiter of what ought to be done. I am quite at your mercy.”
Chapter 23
Lessons Learned
The Gardiners’ continued absence, as well as an abundance of torrential rainfall, conspired to keep Darcy and his guests within the confines of his London townhouse a couple days longer than initially planned. Darcy knew the advantages of ample rainfall so far as Pemberley and all its tenants were concerned, but never had he been so grateful for it while he was in London. Such an occasion was the means of more long nights making love to Elizabeth.
It pleased him immensely knowing the woman he meant to spend his life with possessed a passionate nature rivaling his own. He had employed his time alone with her to both of their advantages and patiently mastered his greatest desire as she took her own time progressing from what started out as cautiously reserved to what was by now reckless abandon, secure in the knowledge that their lovemaking would never exceed the bounds of their betrothal—that is unless she wanted it to.
Times spent alone with Elizabeth like this keep getting better. I can hardly wait to make her my wife in every sense of the word.
Darcy kissed the top of her head. “I wish we were already man and wife, so we might spend every night falling asleep in each other’s arms. I love waking up with you in my arms,” Darcy said.
“I love waking up in your arms as well. Perhaps we should escape to Gretna Green, thus avoiding all the pomp and circumstance of a traditional wedding ceremony.”
“Are you serious, Elizabeth?”
“Heavens no! I speak only in jest. As the first Bennet daughter to wed, I do not dare deny my mamma the pleasure of planning the grandest wedding breakfast our friends and neighbors have ever attended. No doubt, such an occasion is what she lives for.”
“Then let us marry and let it be our secret, so that I might endow you with all the blessings a man in love bestows his wife. Once all those details of a traditional wedding are arranged, we may stand before our families and exchange our vows.”
“Of course, that would still require a speedy trip to Scotland, for lest you forget I am not yet one and twenty. As much as I love you, I should like very much to have my father’s blessing.” His shirt open, she smoothed her hand on his chest. Her spirits rising to playfulness, she said, “Besides what is it you wish to bestow that you and I did not enjoy during the course of last night and well into the wee hours of this morning?”
“Now I know for certain you are merely speaking in jest. But just in case you are not, there is this.” He whispered but a few words of the pleasures that awaited them as man and wife in her ears.
“How wonderfully intriguing,” Elizabeth declared.
“If you think that is wonderful, then you must also consider this, my love.” Once again, he commenced speaking in tantalizing whispers of his plans for their first night in their wedding bed.
“Oh, my,” Elizabeth said, allowing her mind to fill in the blanks of words yet unspoken. Remembering the touch of his hands and his lips, especially his sweet lips on the most intimate parts of her body some hours earlier, she threw a furtive glance over her shoulder. Just enough light peeked through the curtains to inform her that the early morning hour in combination with the locked door of his study afforded enough time for a rather lengthy repetition of lessons learned under her betrothed’s tutelage.
It was now her turn to whisper softly in Mr. Darcy’s ear.
* * *
Later that morning, Elizabeth found her sister Jane in the drawing room, pacing the floor in an agitated manner, clutching a letter to her bosom.
She rushed to her sister’s side. “Jane, what on earth is the matter? You look quite ill. Pray have a seat. I shall pour you a glass of water.”
“No—” Jane said. In the next instance, she burst into tears. “Oh, Lizzy. I have dreadful news from Longbourn.”
“What is it? Has something happened to Papa? Mamma? Kitty? Mary?”
As much as she loved her mother and sisters, Elizabeth’s father meant the most to her. She would never forgive herself if some ill-fate befell her father during her time away from Longbourn, especially as he had written to her hinting of his wish that she would soon be home. Her father rarely wrote letters to anyone.
I do not know if I would ever forgive myself if something has happened to him.
“No. It is Lydia. Oh, Lizzy, Lydia has left all her friends. She has eloped—with Mr. Wickham. They were reported to have gone off together from Brighton to Gretna Green. Only it was soon discovered that Wickham never meant to marry our sister at all. They most certainly did not go to Scotland. At th
is moment, their whereabouts are completely unknown. Based on all you have confided in me, his character is too well known to doubt the rest. Poor Lydia—she has no money, no connections, nothing that can tempt him to marry her.”
Wiping away her tears, Jane pressed on. “What is more, the letter was written over four days ago. It was originally sent to Kent where our family expected we would be. Four days! By now, Lydia surely is lost forever.”
Jane’s tearful words struck Elizabeth particularly hard and for more reasons than even Jane could ever know. She blamed herself. Had she been less enamored of Wickham, perhaps her youngest sister might have been less gullible to his charms. Had she been more open with her family, who welcomed Wickham into their bosom, as soon as she learned the truth about his character, this travesty might have been prevented. And indeed, it was a travesty, for her family’s reputation was now ruined.
If only I might have set a better example for my youngest sister to follow, Elizabeth considered, painfully aware—almost ashamed of how she had spent every night since her arrival in London.
Before she could fashion a fitting response—one that might reassure her elder sister when it was plain to see that all hope was lost, Mr. Darcy entered the room. Seeing him was met with a mixture of consternation, embarrassment, and guilt. The guilt of having fallen asleep in his arms, of having spent the entire night in his arms, awakening in his arms. The guilt of having allowed him all manner of liberties and having enjoyed them more than a proper young lady ought to confess.
At that moment, she felt quite unequal to the task of condemning her young sister. But some explanation of her sister’s anguish and her own torment was absolutely necessary. By the end of her speech which was thoroughly elaborated on by Jane who had all the particulars, Mr. Darcy was pacing the floor.
