by P. O. Dixon
What must he now think of me? From this moment on, all my pretense of being entirely unaffected by him must surely be for naught.
Only a long solitary ramble about the park would do at such a time as that. Elizabeth walked and walked, and before she knew what she was about, she arrived at a magnificent stone temple. Situated amid wonderfully lush greenery, its haunting beauty arrested her eyes as well as her thoughts.
Why! I never even knew such a place existed in the vicinity; else, I would have come long before now.
In her haste to flee the manor house, Elizabeth had not donned her coat or her bonnet. She was beginning to feel the effect of her lapse. She wrapped her arms close to her bosom.
Despite the chilly air, she supposed she might as well continue walking toward the temple, for the thought of seeing Mr. Darcy so soon when the memory of every inch of his body from head to toes was so fresh in her mind was untenable.
Elizabeth swallowed a little. It was not so much his head or his toes that caused her to stir deep down inside. Rather, it was everything in between. His broad chiseled chest, his long legs, the arch of his sculptured pelvic muscles starkly defining his masculinity. The rousing manner in which one part of him sprang to life.
She could rightly say she had never seen anything like it before. At least not in real life, because pictures in the books her father and uncle kept in their libraries did not count.
By now, Elizabeth had arrived at the base of the temple, and she was about to ascend the stone stairs. Despite all the magnificence before her, Elizabeth’s busy mind still lingered back at Rosings. She could never undo the act of seeing what she had seen, and truth be told, she had no wish to. If it were not for what such a desire might portend about Elizabeth’s reputation, she was sure she wished to see it all again.
Elizabeth, upon reaching the top of the stairs, congratulated herself for continuing on to the temple, for now, the bright sun and the open landing conspired together against the chill in the air she had felt earlier, rendering it the perfect spot to sit and enjoy the sun against her face.
Elizabeth squatted by a high column, and leaning against it for support, shut her eyes. How heavenly it felt to be all alone as one with nature—so calm and peaceful with no one to disturb her. At length, she sat, crossed her legs, and breathed in the fresh air.
Elizabeth slowly drifted off to sleep, helpless in keeping her encounter with Mr. Darcy from creeping into her dreams.
She was stepping out of her bath just as he entered her room - her bathing gown clinging to every inch of her body. Coming to her in all his glory, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed.
At length, the two lovers were no longer in Elizabeth’s bed. They were at the temple instead. She was astride his body, calling out his name.
Mr. Darcy … Mr. Darcy.
He adored her in every possible way that she wanted to be adored—all the while calling out her name.
Miss Bennet … Miss Bennet.
“Miss Bennet,” she heard a gentleman say.
Startled, Elizabeth opened her eyes wide. She caught her breath. “Mr. Darcy! How long have you been here?”
“Not long. You were dreaming,” Mr. Darcy said, crouching and sitting beside her. “Is it too much to wish for that you may have been dreaming of me?”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked, easing away from him a little. “Because of what I saw earlier? You flatter yourself, Mr. Darcy.”
“Do I, Miss Bennet? I am rather certain I heard you calling out my name.”
She shrugged. “If I were dreaming of you, which is not to say that I was, but if I were, then what of it? Am I not allowed? Or are such dreams entirely the prerogative of the male persuasion?”
“I see nothing wrong with a healthy curiosity.”
“I must confess that I am more than a little curious about – certain things, but being a member of the gentler sex, I am obligated to wait until marriage to satisfy my curiosity, which is most inconvenient, for I am quite decided against marriage, at least in the foreseeable future.” Elizabeth shrugged again. “Perhaps forever.”
“Truly, Miss Bennet?” he asked, his tone containing a modicum of disbelief.
“What are you implying, Mr. Darcy?”
“I recall Lady Catherine mentioning Mr. Collins’s intention of marrying the Bennet daughter of his choosing. I can only suppose he intends to choose you. I cannot help but notice how attentive he is toward you.”
“I dare not argue your point, Mr. Darcy. The fact is, I know myself well enough to know that I could never marry such a ridiculous man. Still, my sister Mary supposes herself to be ideally suited to him, and as she is hoping they will make a match, I intend to do everything in my power to help them along. Now, hate me if you dare.”
“Why would I hate you for doing what is in the best interest of your family? No, I applaud your efforts and even admire you so much more. It is a shame, though, that you have decided against marriage.”
“I suppose you are a great proponent of marriage,” Elizabeth said. “Have you any prospects, Mr. Darcy?”
“You are very blunt.”
“I told you my secret - two of them, in fact, and now the least you can do is tell me yours.”
“You did at that. I must confess to being more than a little intrigued - you have elaborated quite eloquently on your plans never to marry, but I confess I am far more intrigued by your other secret. I believe I might be of some service in that regard.”
“I believe, sir, that you are changing the subject and rather indelicately.”
“I am guilty as charged. To answer your question, I have no immediate prospects. However, there are those who think they know me who would argue otherwise.”
“I’m listening,” Elizabeth said, leaning closer.
“Lady Catherine’s favorite wish is for me to marry Anne; however, it is never going to happen. I would sooner remain a single man - which I cannot afford to do because I am obligated to my family’s legacy to beget an heir.”
“Now, I am the one who is intrigued,” Elizabeth said, arching her brow. “Pray, tell me more.”
“What more is there to say?”
“Well, you said you will never marry Anne, and yet Lady Catherine believes you will. That seems like a rather unenviable position to find oneself in. How do you plan to extricate yourself?”
“It is not as though I have not told my aunt as much. I suppose she will not really believe me until she reads about my engagement to another in the paper.”
“I suppose that is one way to go about it, sir. No doubt, you will have no problem executing such a scheme. How hard will it be for you to find a bride?”
“I believe you would be quite surprised. Until recently, I had not met anyone with whom I might wish to form a lasting attachment, and then I suspected she was soon to be engaged to another.”
“I am sorry to hear that, sir.”
“Oh! You need not be, for I have it on excellent authority that she has no intention of marrying her would-be suitor, which means I might very well stand a chance. Which, by the way, brings me back to my earlier offer.”
“Your earlier offer?”
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said. “As regards your secret curiosity – specifically your dream that I believe I interrupted moments ago, as well as that which may or may not have been the source of its inspiration. I am more than happy to satisfy your curiosity.”
Elizabeth reached out and tapped Mr. Darcy’s hand. “How scandalous, sir. Why, if I did not know better, I would say you are a shameless flirt.”
Darcy seized Elizabeth’s hand and raised it to his lips. After brushing his lips against her hand, his tender gaze met her eyes. “Why would you say that, Miss Bennet?” He kissed her hand again. “Do you really suppose I am merely flirting with you.”
Elizabeth’s heart began beating so loudly that she could hear it. She swallowed. “Are you not, Mr. Darcy?”
“I am pleased to know that you are not boun
d to another man, and I am happy to show you just how pleased I am.”
Elizabeth slowly withdrew her hand. “Sir, I fear you have an unfair advantage over me.”
“How so?” he asked.
“You know all my secrets.”
“Our secrets.”
“No,” Elizabeth said, standing. She was still rattled in the aftermath of having dreamed of lying in this man’s arms and the disturbance in her composure of having been awakened by him. She needed to get away from him, the sooner the better.
“My secrets. Secrets that ought never to have been shared.”
Chapter 11
Mr. Collins had done nothing but pace the marble floor since his arrival, pausing only to stare out the window now and again, with his hands clasped behind his back. In his defense, he had been waiting for Elizabeth to join him in Lady Catherine’s drawing-room for what seemed like hours. An inspection of either his pocket watch or the towering clock in the room would have told him that just under a half-hour had passed.
There Mary sat with a book in hand, a silent observer to it all.
At length, she said, “I am very sorry for my sister’s delay, Mr. Collins.”
“Is your sister often so inattentive as today’s behavior suggests?” Collins asked, ceasing his pacing.
“Inattentive is not a word I would use to describe my sister. I do not know that our family would have gotten along half so well as we have, had it not been for Lizzy’s steadfast determination to see us through. She will say that her dedication to our family’s well-being is in keeping with our father’s dying wish. However, anyone who really knows her, knows her commitment to our family goes much deeper than that. I am sure there is nothing she would not do for us that is within her power to do.”
“Of course,” said Mr. Collins, his tone containing a measure of contrition. “I did not mean to speak negatively about Cousin Elizabeth. Indeed, I am depending on her commitment to her family’s well-being.”
Mary, if she did not know when she agreed to join her sister on the trip to Kent, certainly knew by now that Mr. Collins preferred Elizabeth as the ideal companion of his future life. Mary also knew that if Elizabeth’s marrying Mr. Collins was the only way to save her family from being tossed out of Longbourn, then her sister would surely marry him, even if doing so would cause both parties to be miserable.
And although Elizabeth had never confided as much to Mary, part of her suspected that Elizabeth knew exactly what she was about when it came to garnering Lady Catherine’s good opinion. This was something Elizabeth wanted not for herself, but for Mary.
I like Mr. Collins just as much now as ever before. Do I not owe it to myself as well as to my sister to seize the chance to be the true object of his affections?
“I am certain she has lost herself in exploring the grounds.”
“It seems your sister has a peculiar fondness for wandering about aimlessly. Indeed, there are far less taxing pursuits to be enjoyed by the female persuasion. Take yourself, for instance. When you are not reading a book, you are agreeably engaged practicing on the pianoforte. Indeed, both are particularly elegant pastimes for a gently bred young woman.”
Her own pleasure aside, it was absolutely necessary to speak in her sister’s defense. “You are aware of my sister’s own penchant for reading, are you not, sir? Indeed, her love of reading far surpasses mine. As for her love of walking, I believe it is comparable to my love for music.”
“Once again, you make an excellent point, Cousin Mary. Do you mind if I sit and talk with you while we wait for Cousin Elizabeth to return from her walk? Or perhaps we might take a turn about the grounds instead in the hope of meeting her.”
“Sir, I would much prefer to remain indoors. Lady Catherine has prognosticated rain this afternoon. And although there is nary a cloud in the sky, I should hate to ignore her prediction and find myself in a downpour. The last thing I want to do is chance being a burden.”
“I am pleased to know how much you revere Lady Catherine’s sage advice, Cousin,” he uttered, drawing closer to where Mary sat.
“I would, however,” Mary continued, “enjoy your company while we wait for Lizzy to return.”
“I am pleased to hear you say that. What shall we do?”
“I have yet to practice today. Perhaps you might sit with me and turn the pages while I play.”
“I cannot think of a better way to pass the time. Afterward, I might read Fordyce’s sermons to you. Would you not like that?”
“I believe I should like that very much, Mr. Collins.”
The gentleman rubbed his hands together in hearing this. “If your sister is lucky, she will have returned in time to join us. She will want to hear me reading Fordyce’s just as much as you, I am sure.”
If ever Mary were to criticize her sister Elizabeth, now would be the time. She could not think of a more disagreeable pastime, not only for Elizabeth but for any of her sisters.
That is all the more reason for me to capture Mr. Collins’s fancy. I have every reason to suppose we would be a most companionable couple indeed.
Chapter 12
Sir William Lucas had been formerly in trade in Meryton, where he had made a tolerable fortune, and risen to the honor of knighthood by an address to the king during his mayoralty. The distinction had perhaps been felt too strongly. It had given him a disgust to his business and his residence in a small market town. In quitting them both, he had removed with his family to a house about a mile from Meryton. He named his new abode Lucas Lodge. Unshackled by business, he occupied himself solely in being civil to all the world. Though elated by his rank, it did not render him supercilious. On the contrary, he was all attention to everybody.
His wife, Lady Lucas, was ideally suited to her husband’s elevated status. What a triumph it was for her to be the first among her friends and neighbors to welcome the recently arrived Netherfield party to her home. Her husband, by virtue of his being the highest-ranking gentleman in the neighborhood, had been the first to call on Mr. Bingley.
With Lucas Lodge being so close in proximity to Longbourn, Lady Lucas and Mrs. Bennet suffered a relationship bordering on equal parts tolerance, familiarity, and one-upmanship. Both ladies had been burdened with several children. However, the former at least had a son to her credit, making her situation so much less troublesome than the latter’s lot in life.
To Mrs. Bennet’s way of thinking, the purpose of the evening’s gathering was for the sole purpose of Lady Lucas’s promoting her eldest daughter, Charlotte, to Mr. Bingley before the lady herself could do so. Mrs. Bennet was entirely persuaded that she would have been the first had Mr. Bennet not passed away when he did, for she would have insisted that he be the first to go to Netherfield to welcome the young man who reportedly had four or five thousand pounds a year.
Charlotte, being a sensible sort of young woman, summoned all her power not to be offended by Mrs. Bennet’s constant disparagement about how much more suited her own daughters were for the rich, handsome gentleman.
As Charlotte and Elizabeth were the most intimate of friends, maintaining her composure as well as her civility in the wake of Mrs. Bennet’s steady abuse was not an easy task. Still, she would not dare complain to her friend. Elizabeth, being a self-professed studier of people’s character, was undoubtedly aware of her mother’s deficits. She certainly needed no reminder from anyone.
Because of the intimate nature of the affair, only a half dozen or so families were included as guests that evening. There were Mr. and Mrs. Long and their two daughters. Mrs. Greene was in attendance, along with her nieces. Mr. and Mrs. King and their daughter Miss Mary King were there as well, along with the Goulds, a family with a healthy mix of sons and daughters. Last but not least were the Bennets: the aforementioned Mrs. Bennet, Miss Kitty Bennet, Miss Lydia Bennet, and Miss Bennet.
Miss Bennet, owing to her health, did not often have a chance to socialize. She never attended the local assemblies in Meryton, for instance, with all t
he boisterous clatter of people competing to be heard above the musicians, overcrowded dance floors, and often sweltering heat. What an unpleasant assault on Jane’s senses that would be. However, the convenience of a dinner party at the neighboring estate provided the ideal diversion. Yes, there was the steady hum of conversations taking place all about. However, being in the home of one of her closest friends afforded the ability of an easy escape if need be.
When, finally, the guest of honor and his party arrived, Sir William Lucas rushed to them. Charlotte, being a curious creature, hurried to her father’s side. The youngest member of the party, whom Charlotte understood to be Mr. Charles Bingley, was good-looking and gentlemanlike. He had a pleasant countenance and easy, unaffected manners. The two women who accompanied him were very fine and possessed an air of decided fashion. The other man in the party merely looked the gentleman.
“Welcome to my humble abode, Mr. Bingley,” said the host. “It is indeed a pleasure to have you and your family as our most honored guests.”
Mr. Bingley smiled, rendering him even more charming in Charlotte’s eyes.
“It is a pleasure being here, Sir William. I am sure I speak for all my family in expressing the utmost gratitude for your hospitality.” The young man threw an astonished glance about the room. Charlotte could not help but notice the gentleman’s eyes linger on Jane before darting away. She certainly could not fault him, for none of the other young ladies were half so fair as Jane. Charlotte was sure that were it not for her affliction, Jane would have been married long ago.
“This is quite a gathering. I am looking forward to making everyone’s acquaintance,” Bingley offered.
“Indeed. I shall be delighted to introduce you to each and every one of my guests in turn. If you will allow me to do so, I should like to start with my lovely daughter, Charlotte. She is my eldest.”
