Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2

by Sharon Lathan

  “Good God! For a moment I thought sure it was your father barging in with a primed musket!”

  Giggling a tad shakily from being startled as much as his exclamation, Lizzy assured, “You are safe. Papa is off on some sort of estate business, or so that was the claim for escaping the house today.”

  This belated news seemed to cheer Darcy considerably. “Now you tell me! Alas, another missed opportunity for inappropriate behavior as I must be on my way.”

  Pausing, his eyes drifted from her mouth down to the tops of her breasts, which were, she just then realized, exposed to barely an inch above her nipples, thanks to her loose morning dress slipping lower while slumped against his body. Moreover, the recent fright had caused her to breathe hard. With each deep inhale the pale mounds rose, an effect not likely to stop anytime soon with his darkening gaze staring directly at them.

  “Of course, arriving at my destination later than planned is not an unpardonable transgression.”

  Those huskily whispered words trailed off when he closed the gap between their bodies. At the bumping contact with her knees, he clasped onto her legs and, almost absently, draped them over his. The movement was smooth and slow, yet it shifted her balance so that she ended in a moderate recline, the tall, padded sofa arm behind her back. Whether this was his plan or not, her determined lover leaned closer without the tiniest hesitation.

  Lifting his right hand, he touched his fingertips lightly to the nape of her neck. Delicately, he glided across the slim contour of her collarbone until meeting the edge of her garments, which already teetered precariously on the extreme curve of her shoulder.

  Darcy flicked his eyes up for a split second, perhaps asking for permission or showing her that, while inflamed with desire, he was in control. Whichever the impetus for diverting his attention from the rapt focus upon her breast, Lizzy had no time to respond before he had returned to his provocative scrutiny. In truth, if given several minutes, she would not have been able to formulate a coherent thought. Undoubtedly, her glassy eyes and parted lips were all the reply he needed anyway. Undeterred by the fabric layers, he nudged them past her shoulder and traced a slow path along the ribbon-edged bodice downward.

  The wood sofa corner digging into her back and the air cooly wafting over her bared shoulder registered hazily upon Lizzy’s mind. There were far too many pleasant sensations rushing through her body to bother over such trifles. For instance, she was acutely aware that the fabric covering her left breast now perching dangerously close to her pebble-hard nipple. She was even more aware of William’s fingertips steadily approaching the sensitive, virginal flesh.

  Torn between closing her eyes and enjoying the unique thrills of pleasure, she kept them half-open to enhance the bliss with the visual. The sight of his strong hand, tanned golden from the sun, brushing over the creamy skin of her chest was bizarrely erotic. His long, elegantly shaped fingers stroked firmly, the mildly calloused pads intensifying the emotions. Fire flooding her veins, Lizzy was amazed that her skin wasn’t red as a ripe cherry. She focused all her energy on not squirming in desire, hands pressed harshly into the sofa seat for support.

  What will he do next? The possible options flashing through her dazzled brain unprepared her for the reality.

  Reaching the swell of her left breast, he hesitated for a moment, warring, she suspected, with the urge to push the fabric aside. The merest prod of his thumb would free the rosy tip aching for his touch. Instead, he drifted up and over, until poised at the shadowy crevice separating her bosom. Dipping the end of his index finger halfway into the narrow gap, he then splayed his hand fully onto the soft pillow. Simultaneously, he dropped his head and pressed his mouth to her bared, as-yet-untouched right breast.

  Lizzy gasped. Succumbing to the escalating euphoria, eyes closed and head weakly flopped onto the sofa back. Her hands, which had at some point knotted into fists and dug into the cushion, uncurled and jerked upward to clutch his upper arms.

  Darcy did not move. No increase in the pressure of his mouth. No parting of the moist lips on her chest. No probing or squeezing with his right hand. He simply maintained the contact for what seemed like hours but was only a minute or two. Finally, after the faintest nuzzle of his face against her breast, he pulled away, shaky hands readjusting her bodice in the process. Once satisfied she was reclothed to proper modesty levels, he sat up straight and met her eyes.

  The expression he wore would forever be indelibly painted upon her mind, yet she would never be able to adequately put the look into words. Rapturous joy and transcendent love were as close as she could describe, although that wasn’t nearly accurate.

  “I believe that shall tide me over for the week ahead and give me something sweet to dream about. I shall pray the same for you, my darling. So very soon we shall be able to enjoy each other to the fullest, without any reservations.”

  Smiling, he clasped her hands and stood, bringing her with him. Placing their hands upon his chest, he bent for a chaste kiss on her lips. “I will be counting the days until I am again in your arms, Elizabeth,” he whispered against her mouth. Withdrawing, he peered earnestly into her eyes. “I am more bewitched by you than I was when I proposed. I love you, Elizabeth, with all my body, heart, and soul.”

  “I love you, William—”

  Her declaration was cut short by an abrupt, bone-crunching hug. “I will miss you terribly. Stay safe, my heart.”

  Releasing her as abruptly as he’d embraced her, Darcy pivoted and lurched toward the door, tossing, “I will be back on Saturday,” over his shoulder. In a flash, he was gone.

  * * *

  Eventually, Lizzy regained her breath and composure. Able to face the day in better spirits than initially anticipated, she was pleased Jane had followed through on Mary’s suggestion to visit with the Lucases. Before they finished lunch, a return message from Lucas Lodge assured them they were welcome, and a wonderful afternoon respite was enjoyed by all—excepting Mrs. Bennet.

  Pleading lethargy, overwrought nerves, and symptoms of an oncoming cold, she decided to stay at Longbourn. When they returned late in the afternoon, she was lying on the couch with a flushed face and fanning herself vigorously. However, no amount of peakedness or upset nerves prevented her insisting they repeat the conversations word for word.

  “Jane dear, was Lady Lucas able to solve the problem with Mrs. Goulding’s lady’s maid?”

  “I believe we shall have a positive outcome, Mama. Lady Lucas is amazingly skilled at such matters, I daresay. She spoke with Mrs. Goulding over tea twice this past week. By the end, Mrs. Goulding was praising her maid and weeping at the very idea of losing her but insisting she be given as a ‘gift’ for the new lady of Netherfield!” Jane laughed while shaking her head. “I know not how she accomplished it, but I am to meet with the woman, a Miss Peyton, on Wednesday. I think I will ask Mrs. Nicholls to join me. She is new as Netherfield’s housekeeper but has years of experience and, Mr. Bingley informed me the other day, served as a lady’s maid herself. Her insights will prove valuable. Better than mine, of that, there is no question.”

  Mary paused in her piano practice, a puzzled frown creasing her brow. “I never fathomed selecting a servant who laces up stays and fixes hair would be such an ordeal.”

  “I thought the same, Mary. Much ado about nothing, if you ask me.”

  Jane gently admonished, “You can say that, Kitty dear, because you leave your hair loose most of the time and, sweet Mary, you only dress your beautiful, black hair into a severe knot. Perhaps once Lizzy and I are gone, Betsy will be able to focus her skills on you two.”

  Kitty had immediately lifted her hands to fluff the thick, tawny curls falling in a wave down her back and swayed her head side to side so that the tresses bounced prettily. “I maintain it is a travesty to conceal and restrain these lush locks, which God gave me, may I remind. Besides, all the pulling and tugging, and those pins stuck into my scalp give me a headache.”

  Mary’s expression trans
formed from baffled to prudish disapproval at Kitty’s words and antics, and then to borderline panic—probably from the vision of an ostentatious coiffure à la Betsy.

  Fearing Kitty would next launch into another anti-corset tirade, they let the topic alone, opting instead to relive the hours at Lucas Lodge minute by minute while answering Mrs. Bennet’s questions.

  What did they serve as refreshments? How were preparations for the autumn ball coming along? Did Lady Lucas have any town gossip to report? Not that Mrs. Bennet asked this directly, preferring the code phrase “news from the village of vital importance.”

  Did Maria Lucas have any suitors calling? This was asked because nothing would be worse than for Miss Lucas to become engaged to a gentleman of greater worth or prestige than Mr. Bingley or Mr. Darcy! As unlikely as the possibility of this was for Maria Lucas especially, or anyone in the area for that matter, Mrs. Bennet conveyed her anxiety over such a horrific development at least twice a week. Once relieved on that count, it was essential to verify that Lady Lucas had asked about the wedding plans, which the girls assured she had, at length. Whether this was entirely accurate is debatable, but Mrs. Bennet was content.

  “How was your visit with Charlotte, Lizzy?”

  “Wonderful. We truly enjoyed our company, almost as if the past year had never happened. Of course, it helped not having Mr. Collins lurking in the background in hopes of overhearing something to report to Lady Catherine.”

  “Really, Lizzy, do you think he does that?”

  “I am sure of it, Mama. When I visited with Charlotte the last time, after we returned from London, I told her about the necklace Mr. Darcy gave me for the wedding. Why you should have seen how his eyes bugged! I thought he was far enough away not to hear our conversation, but he must have hearing like a dog.”

  “Makes sense,” Kitty interrupted. “He is the old harpy’s pet dog, after all.”

  “Kitty! For shame!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, waving her fan furiously. Kitty shrugged, unashamed.

  “Well, be that as it may,” Lizzy resumed after winking at her younger sister, “Mr. Collins jumped out of his chair and scurried from the room. Charlotte whispered, and this is verbatim, ‘He has gone to write that down before he forgets. Lady Catherine will be furious!’ We shared a good laugh, I confess without a bit of remorse.”

  “Poor Charlotte,” Jane said sorrowfully.

  Mrs. Bennet’s fan snapped closed. “Why ‘poor Charlotte’? She has a house of her own and security. We all thought she was doomed to be an old maid! To be saved from that fate is a cause for rejoicing, not pity. My word!”

  Surprising everyone, Lizzy nodded her head. “While I do not deem remaining unmarried a doomed fate, I have discovered my heart softening toward Charlotte’s choice. I know”—she smiled at her sisters’ collective amazement—“my change of tune is a shock. Mr. Collins is ridiculous and a nauseating toady, and I still shudder when recalling he offered marriage to me.” She sent a glare toward her mother. “Nevertheless, he does care for Charlotte, never mistreats her, as far as I can tell, and has provided her a stable life with a good home. She is more suited to being a rector’s wife than I would have suspected, and for certain far better than me. Charlotte seems content, I think, and perhaps that is what matters most.”

  Having ignored Lizzy’s glare, Mrs. Bennet gushed, “So true, Lizzy! Charlotte made an excellent decision. I daresay, your refusal produced an outcome in everyone’s best interest.”

  “You judge Mr. Collins too harshly, Lizzy,” Mary remarked blandly. “He is a gentleman and has devoted his life to serving God. That is a noble calling with heavy burdens and, as such, is worthy of respect.”

  Lizzy wasn’t sure how to respond. Mary had a point, although her innocent view of the goodness of people, even those in the church, was flawed. Still, this was Mr. Collins she was talking about. Lizzy may have been willing to agree that Charlotte hadn’t made a terrible decision in becoming his wife, but going so far as to use words like noble, gentleman, and respect in conjunction with Mr. Collins left a bad taste in her mouth. Her mother jumped in, saving her from formulating a pleasant reply.

  “Right, Mary! A girl can do far worse, believe me. A man like Mr. Collins is bendable, easy to please, and undemanding. Charlotte can manage a husband like Mr. Collins as she is much like you Lizzy.”

  “What do you mean, Mama?”

  “Only that she has a strong will. She is not as stubbornly pigheaded as you, few are, I daresay. You tried my nerves no end since the day you were born. At times, I do pity Mr. Darcy, although he is nothing like Mr. Collins. In Charlotte’s case, with a tenderhearted, malleable man like Mr. Collins, I doubt he pressures her unduly, if you take my meaning.”

  Her mother’s disjointed ramble made little sense, except for the last statement. Oh yes, Lizzy took her meaning. A swift exchange with Jane proved her sister did as well.

  She is wondering, as I am, how we walked blindly into what promises to be another talk imparting wisdom about the marriage bed and what we can say or do to avert the horrifying inevitable.

  Evidently, her younger sisters were of the same mind. Mary pounded loudly on the pianoforte, playing a jaunty tune Lizzy wouldn’t have thought was in her musical repertoire. Kitty jumped to her feet and insisted in a boisterous voice that everyone observe the latest tricks she had taught her fast-growing puppy. Jane, bless her heart, blurted into a descant about the weather.

  Lizzy groped for the one subject sure to overshadow all others. “Lady Lucas did say that the Bennet wedding will be the most spectacular event to happen in Hertfordshire in decades.” Lady Lucas had said no such thing, but Lizzy was desperate! Tragically, the bald-faced lie failed, as did all the rest.

  “One never knows how a husband will be, of course. Hopefully Lady Lucas taught her daughters well, as I have attempted to do with you four. Alas, I missed my chance with sweet, innocent Lydia. Who knows what she has suffered?” Her sigh was a half sob. “Whether Charlotte needs to be firm with Mr. Collins is none of my business. I only bring it up as an example for the two of you.”

  Since diversion had not worked, Lizzy opted for the tactic of ignoring her mother. After all, her sermonizing never lasted too long. There were a limited number of euphemisms for sexual intercourse in her vocabulary, and the agitation the subject roused usually reached an unsustainable level in fifteen minutes maximum. Picking up her book and feigning deep absorption, she peripherally saw Jane doing the same with her needlepoint.

  Either unaware no one was listening or indifferent, Mrs. Bennet rambled on, fan briskly flapping and eyes on the ceiling. “A woman’s monthly courses are a legitimate impediment to intimate relations. The very idea of doing… Well, it is appalling! Men never pay attention to a women’s schedule, nor is such a personal topic ever to be discussed. Remember that, girls. Always be vague, as is proper. A wife should never lie outright. Perish the thought! A decent, respectful gentleman would never dream of asking directly, and you are not to blame for their assumptions.”

  Glancing to Jane, they shared a roll of their eyes and swift smirk before resuming their feigned intent fascination with the items in their laps.

  “Perhaps my suffering with headaches and nerves has been a blessing in disguise. Not that I wish such a debilitating ailment upon either of you, my dears. Just remember that when ill, a gentleman will understand a wife is incapable of activity that may well increase her pain and distress. Truthfully, what proper lady would not suffer from a headache at the very idea of a man’s advances? Performing one’s wifely duties is an expectation and honorable. The blessing of children, only created through the act, as confounding as that is—why would God do such a thing? I cannot comprehend it… Hmm…where was I? Oh, yes, the blessing of children is a reward for your perseverance and faithfulness to your vows. And there is some comfort in the warmth to be found, the companionship…”

  Lizzy lost track of the discourse. Mary had given up on the lively tune and finally on entertaining w
ith the pianoforte altogether. Somewhere in the middle of it all, probably around the mention of “wifely duties” or perhaps earlier, when menstruation and “intimate relations” were said in the same sentence, she and Kitty had slunk away. Just as Lizzy was debating whether it was time for her to do the same, Mrs. Bennet’s tone altered into the lilt of a question.

  “You did say, Jane, that Netherfield has a well-appointed bedchamber separate from Mr. Bingley?”

  Jane automatically nodded and, out of habit, opened her mouth to reply, but her mother had presumed the answer and wasn’t even looking at her eldest daughter. Oddly, she was staring at Lizzy.

  “Be sure the door has a sturdy locking mechanism, not that you, Jane, should have a need for it.”

  Lizzy groaned, the sound drowned out by her mother’s increasingly shrill voice. Thank goodness Aunt Gardiner talked with us, she thought, eyeing the open doorway longingly, or I’d be searching for the deepest, darkest cave in England to avoid getting married.

  “The important point to remember, girls, is to be firm with your husbands. Naturally, you must submit when necessary, as is proper. However, there are ways to avoid this honorably, as I have revealed to you both. Jane, you should have no problem in this regard, as Mr. Bingley is so amiable and gentlemanly. Lock or no, he would never force himself upon you, so you can rest easy, my dear. It is you, my Lizzy, whom I fear for.”

  Swiveling her eyes back to her mother’s face, Lizzy frowned. “Whatever do you mean, Mama?”

  “Oh, Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet sat up, eyes teary and face seamed with deep concern. “Mr. Darcy is so proud and arrogant! I know he has tempered, according to you, but how long will that last? He is a gentleman to be sure, but he is also a man of substance who is accustomed to dominating and having his orders abided by without question. He is a man used to being in control. You may well learn, I dread, that his demands upon your person will be tremendous. Judging by how he looks at you, well, it is assured.”