Mr. Darcy's Indiscretions

by Valerie Lennox

  Feeling stuffed and a little ill, she wandered back into the ballroom.

  And suddenly—

  There he was.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “Miss Bennet, where are you taking me?” Darcy was laughing a little as she pulled him down the hallway, away from the gathering. “This is highly improper, you know.”

  “Yes,” she said. “Well, you are so bothered by propriety.”

  “Don’t mock me,” he said, stopping. “Look at that up there. Is that woman’s wig full of turtles?” He pointed up at a painting that loomed over their heads.

  “I don’t know. Does it matter?” She tugged on his hand.

  “Sometimes you would see birds or something, which makes a bit of sense, since birds are up in the sky, and a woman’s head is closer to the sky than her feet. But turtles, I just can’t—”

  “Mr. Darcy.” She glared at him.

  He licked his lips. “Listen, Miss Bennet, I don’t know what you’re about, but you should probably know that I—”

  “I don’t need to know anything.” She pulled again.

  He let her lead him.

  She pushed open the next door they came to. It was dark inside, but through the light of the hallway, she could make out that it was some sort of sitting room. There was no one inside. She went in, pulled him after her, and shut the door.

  “Well,” said Darcy. “It really is dark in here.”

  “Shut up,” she said, reaching for him. Her hand collided with his chest. She caught hold of his cravat and yanked him close. She curled her other hand around his neck, pulling him down.

  She pressed her lips against his.

  He kissed her fiercely, thrusting his tongue into her mouth.

  She molded her body against his. God, this was what she had wanted. She needed to be close to him. Her hands roamed over his back. She wanted to pull him as close as she could possibly get. She wanted to meld them together so they could never be pulled apart.

  He pulled back. “Miss Bennet, what are you about?” His voice was amused, affected. “This is quite shocking.”

  “Oh, please. As if you didn’t understand what I intended when we began walking back the hall.” She ran her fingers over his face in the darkness, feeling the hint of his whiskers under the softness of his cheek. “And call me Elizabeth. Please.” She kissed him again.

  His mouth was hot and thorough. He pushed her backwards until they collided with the door, and his tongue claimed every inch of hers.

  She was losing her mind, and everything was wonderful. After waiting so long, things were perfect again at last. She grasped handfuls of his shirt, pulling them free of his trousers, and then her hands were against the smooth skin of his stomach. Her fingers traced his belly button, smoothed over the rough patch of hair that led delightfully lower.

  He gasped, wrenching his mouth away from hers. “You’ll have to stop.”

  “No,” she said. “It doesn’t matter anymore, don’t you see? I’m not marriageable. I’m not ruinable. I don’t care what people say about me, and I want this. I want you. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything as badly as I want this. If you stop me, I think I’ll go mad.” She slid her hands under his trousers.

  He sighed. “You misunderstand me.”

  She stopped, a thought occurring to her. “You don’t want me? You find me abhorrent and old now?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not about what I want. Besides, you know you’re exquisite.”

  She knew no such thing, and his words went through her, a thrill of pleasure. She kissed him again.

  He pressed her back into the door. “Just this,” he murmured against her lips. “Just this and no more.”

  She shut her eyes and surrendered to his kiss. It was good, sweet. She had forgotten what it was like to be able to touch him—to be able to touch anyone. Except for the times she embraced her niece and nephew, she didn’t think she’d had a soft touch from another person since the last time he touched her.

  His mouth trailed over her jaw, to her neck.

  She gasped at the sensation. “Why not more?”

  “Be quiet, for God’s sake, Miss Bennet.” He paused, his lips moving to her ear. “Elizabeth.” His voice was slow and soft.

  Shivers broke out over her entire body. Her skin puckered. She felt her nipples tighten and that made things pulse between her thighs. She clutched him, a small moan escaping her lips.

  He kissed her neck.

  She tangled her hands in his hair. “Is it because you’re worried about getting me with child? Because I have done some extensive reading on this subject, and there are things we can do to prevent that from happening.”

  He pulled back. “Extensive reading?”

  “No one questions what I read and do anymore. I’m worthless, you see.”

  He caressed her cheek. “You’re not worthless. Don’t say things like that about yourself.”

  “I only mean that I’m not important to anyone, so it’s okay for me to do as I please. There’s freedom in it. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

  “That may be so, but I have nothing for you.”

  “I don’t want anything. I just want you.”

  “I don’t even have that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  And someone was pushing on the door. She felt it, and she sprang forward, horrified.

  Darcy seized her and pulled her out of the way, so that the door could open freely.

  A spot of light came first—light from a candle.

  Darcy pressed her against the wall.

  She held her breath, her heart beating double time.

  “Darcy? Are you in here?” said a male voice.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Darcy pushed away, grabbing Colonel Fitzwilliam by the arm and pushing him back into the hallway. “What are you doing here? You’re not supposed to be here!”

  “Yes, well, it’s a good thing I decided to come. After all, here you are utterly ignoring our dear cousin. Is that the lovely Miss Bennet you introduced me to before? What are you doing with her?”

  “Oh, dear Lord, I would think that is obvious.”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam looked down at Darcy’s shirt tails, which were hanging out over his trousers. “Indeed, yes. Obvious.”

  Darcy flushed. He began tucking in his shirt. “Oh, shut up and go away.”

  “Well, I would,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. “In fact, I will. You are a grown man now, and your business is your own, so I shall leave you to it in a moment. I simply need a word with you first.”

  “A word now? Can it not wait?”

  “I feel as if I do not even know you anymore, Darcy. What are you about? This kind of behavior is not what I would expect from you.”

  Darcy sighed. “Listen, Cousin, we were children together and then young men, but much has happened since then, and I have changed—”

  “Yes, indeed, you have. And I’m not sure I like what you’ve changed into. I mean, shuffling off with a gentlewoman to a darkened room to engage in… in… well, you were apparently in the process of removing your clothing, so—”

  “She can hear you, you know,” said Darcy mildly.

  Colonel Fitzwilliam opened his mouth and closed it, as if he hadn’t quite considered that. He raised his voice. “No insult intended, madam.”

  “I’ll meet you out there, all right?” said Darcy and turned away again.

  “Don’t be too long.”

  Darcy turned back. “I hope I can trust you to keep your mouth closed. Nothing against Miss Bennet’s reputation.”

  “If the two of you return to the party at once, I shall endeavor to do so. But if you are indisposed for quite some time, then I shan’t know what to say if anyone inquires about your whereabouts.”

  “Yes, of course.” Darcy nodded. “We’ll be along shortly.”

  “Good,” said Colonel Fitzwilliam. He regarded Darcy with something like pity, and then, shaking his head once more, turned
and strode up the hallway.

  Darcy watched him go. He shut his eyes, swearing under his breath. “Miss Bennet?” He couldn’t call her Elizabeth in the light, he found. Maybe when they were close again—but what was he saying? They would not be close again. There was no point in that.

  She appeared in the doorway.

  “I’m sorry about my cousin,” said Darcy.

  She looked a bit disheveled. Mostly, it was her lips, which seemed a little too red, a little too… used. “I’m fine. Why don’t you come back in here?”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “I can’t. You heard him. If we don’t go back to the party, he is going to spread stories about us.”

  “Does that matter? You are a man and can do as you please, and I am a spinster. I belong to no one but myself. The worst that can happen is they pack me off to live with Collins and Mary.” She wrinkled up her nose.

  “Stop calling yourself a spinster,” he said. “Listen, we must be concerned about how we will return to the party. If we were to walk back together, people might notice, might talk. Whatever you are saying, you cannot weather a scandal. We must tread carefully.” If he wasn’t broken, useless as a man, maybe he would have taken her up on her offer. But he couldn’t bear the thought of her disappointment, and he was too embarrassed to explain.

  But she already looked disappointed. “Oh, well, all right. But when will I see you again?”

  He reached into his jacket pocket and took out his bottle of laudanum. Taking a small nip, he shut his eyes. “You don’t want to see me again. Is there no way you could forget about me?”

  She licked her lips. “I don’t think so. Perhaps you have many women that you have taken to bed, so one here or there can be forgotten. But for me, you see, there is only you, and that makes you… significant.”

  It was quiet for a moment.

  Then he turned away from her. “You will enter first. I shall follow after some time has passed.” He busied himself rearranging his cravat.

  “I don’t say it to make you feel guilty.” She placed a hand on his shoulder. “It is simply a fact, and I cannot change it.”

  He looked at her, a perverse thought occurring to him. “Now that, madam, isn’t true. You say I am only lover you have ever had, but that is only because you have never taken another. You seem eager enough for it, given the way you’re behaving.”

  She drew back, her hand dropping to her side. “Why would you say such a thing? This isn’t about… the act, it’s about you. You are what I want.”

  He smoothed his hair. “I assure you, Miss Bennet, another man—any other man—would be able to please you better than I can.” He gestured. “You lead the way?”

  She shook her head. “I don’t understand. You acted as if you welcomed my attentions just a moment ago. I believe that you are acting the way you are now for the same reasons you did in the past. Because you have some ridiculous idea that you can hurt my reputation. But I’ve explained to you that you can’t.”

  He sighed. “Miss Bennet, we cannot continue to have this conversation in the hallway here. Someone else is going to come by and discover us. Now, we must return to the ball. There is nothing more to say.”

  * * *

  Elizabeth did enter the ballroom without him, and she went over to one wall, where she stood alone, watching, waiting for him to enter. He did, after nearly a quarter of an hour. No one seemed to notice either of them. They certainly didn’t seem to think that the two of them had been together. She guessed that was good. She was not overly fond of the idea of being part of a scandal, she supposed.

  It was gentlemanly of him to worry about such things. She was grateful for that.

  But she was very, very confused.

  Why had he stopped? She had felt his eagerness in his kisses. He was as hungry for her as she was for him. And every time they had met since he had returned to England, he had been, well, flirtatious with her. He had showered her with compliments, smiled at her, stared at her. She could not believe that he didn’t want her. She knew that he did.

  So, then, why hadn’t he continued kissing her?

  She didn’t know.

  And it was killing her that they were in the same place now and not close to each other. She followed him with her eyes as he joined his cousin Anne. She was laughing, looking gay and happy. Darcy took his bottle of laudanum out of his jacket and took a pull from it. He smiled at Anne, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.

  Elizabeth was frustrated. The only reason she’d come to this ball was to get close to Darcy. Now that she couldn’t do that again, she might as well go home.

  Of course, she wasn’t going to. She was in the same room with him now, and that was better than nothing.

  She laughed under her breath. She was pathetic. Her life was bland and boring, and he was the only thing in it that shone, that excited. She had nothing but him to bring her joy.

  Maybe it wasn’t her that was pathetic, but her station, her situation.

  She only wished she understood why Darcy had been the way he’d been. He hadn’t even promised that he would see her again. He’d actively tried to get her to stay away from him, even suggesting that she take a different lover. That was preposterous.

  She knew that Darcy had always had a poorly formed idea of trying to protect her. But there was nothing to protect her from anymore. A dangerous affair with him was preferable to a safe and staid life as a maiden aunt. She wanted him.

  No.

  She needed him. He was as important to her as the air she breathed.

  Being away from him now hurt.

  Maybe it wasn’t as strong for him. Maybe he didn’t care about her as deeply as she cared about him. He was a man, after all, and he probably saw her as a throwaway woman, someone to be trifled with and not to be serious about.

  She clasped her hands together in front of her body as she thought about that. Well, if it was true, that was a blow, but it wasn’t insurmountable. She didn’t need him to care about her as much as she cared about him. She wished for it, of course, but whatever he could give her would be enough. A little of him was better than none of him.

  She would simply have to make it clear to him that she could be whatever he wanted her to be. If he only wanted to see her a small amount of the time, that would be okay. She wouldn’t make demands on him, wouldn’t bother him. She would only provide comfort, and in return, she simply wanted a little of him. As much as he could spare.

  He must think she wanted more than he wanted to give.

  Maybe he thought something preposterous, like that she wanted him to marry her.

  She laughed aloud at the thought of it. Her? Married?

  Several of the women surrounding her gave her strange looks.

  She looked at the floor. She would have to disabuse him of that notion as soon as she could.

  * * *

  “Oh, I’m very sorry, madam,” said the butler at the de Bourgh townhouse. “Miss de Bourgh isn’t in.”

  Her heart sank. After all this time, now, Anne had finally decided to refuse her entry to the home. How was she to get in to talk to Darcy, to tell him that she had no designs on him, that she didn’t want to marry him, didn’t want anything from him except what he could give her? “Oh, how unfortunate.” She turned to go, and then turned back around. To the blazes with propriety. “Is Mr. Darcy at home?”

  The butler raised his eyebrows. “Madam, you are a woman alone.”

  She lifted her chin. “I am aware it is… unusual for a woman to call on a man, but if he is at home, even if he is abed, I would ask that you—”

  “In any case,” said the butler, “he is not at home. He and his cousins have quit the city.”

  “What?” She was stunned. She had not expected… It was getting later in the Season, and some people were already retiring to the country, but neither Darcy nor Anne had given her any indication that they were leaving.

  “Yes, they have all gone to Rosings in Kent. Miss de Bourgh has invit
ed a few of her more persistent suitors to enjoy some hunting on the grounds. We will be leaving soon as well. Miss de Bourgh was only letting this house for the Season.”

  “Oh, indeed,” she said. “Well, thank you very much for the information.”

  “Certainly,” said the butler.

  She started down the walkway. This was a blow. She had no idea that he was leaving, and now he was gone, off to the country, and she was stuck here in London. Bingley and Jane would quit town within a month so for Netherfield, but that was nowhere near Kent. She had no idea when she might see Darcy again.

  That thought hit her hard, like a cannon ball to her stomach.

  She gasped, stopping her movement, unable to breathe or think for several seconds.

  No, she couldn’t lose him again. Not after she had just found him.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Mr. Collins had been enamored of his former patron, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, to the point of distraction, but Elizabeth did not think that the affection had gone both ways. Still, she wrote a letter to her sister Mary, broadly hinting that she would like to visit Kent and asking if Mary or Collins had any connections she might exploit.

  She received a tart letter back from her sister, scolding her for thinking to ask such highly improper things. Mary told her that if she longed for Kent, she might take some time to reflect on it. Longing was suffering and suffering was good for the soul. She must allow herself to suffer and she would come out on the other side refined in God’s fire and—

  Well, it went on for a bit, but Elizabeth stopped reading at that point.

  She despaired.

  She could not wrangle her way into an invitation to Rosings, of all places. She had no way to do so. She was only lowly Elizabeth Bennet, and a spinster at that.

  Darcy was lost to her.

  It shouldn’t matter. She had not seen him in five years, and life had gone on. And, truly, all things considered, he had treated her rather badly. There was no sane reason to want him so much.

  But she did, and now that she had no chance of seeing him, everything was wretched.