Christmas at Darcy House

by Victoria Kincaid

  “He could not possibly have any lasting attachment to her,” Caroline muttered. “She is so…skinny, and her skin is so brown.”

  Wickham raked Caroline with a dubious—and, to her mind, insolent—stare from head to toe. “She is pretty enough.”

  She wanted to throw things. She was paying the blackguard! Could he not at least assure her that she was prettier?

  Wickham shifted on the bench. “Then yesterday I received a note from Miss Bennet saying she could not marry me after all.”

  Caroline nearly fell off the bench. “Good heavens! Are they betrothed?” That would be a disaster.

  “I doubt it. She seemed very angry when he just up and kissed her. She punched him pretty hard.”

  How unladylike! Still… Caroline settled back into the bench. “Good, good.”

  “Of course, ten thousand a year is quite an inducement…”

  Good Lord, why must the man remind her? “I know.” She could not fathom what Mr. Darcy saw in the upstart country miss, and Eliza Bennet’s behavior was even more inexplicable. While Caroline would not have preferred to be kissed in a public place, she would not have objected too strenuously if Mr. Darcy were doing the kissing. She certainly would not strike him; that was unforgiveable.

  Wickham stared glumly at the river. “I think the whole business is hopeless. Although I am not returning your money,” he added hastily.

  “Nonsense!” Caroline exclaimed. “We must simply find another way to separate them.”

  “What can we do?”

  “Can you regain her trust?”

  Wickham considered for a long moment. “Possibly…I doubt Darcy will have told her everything about me.”

  Caroline had no doubt Wickham had behaved detestably toward Mr. Darcy, but the details were irrelevant. This wretch was the only person at the moment who could prevent the master of Pemberley from marrying the wrong woman.

  “I doubt I could get her to agree to another engagement,” Wickham volunteered.

  She waved her hand. “That is immaterial. You must simply separate her from Mr. Darcy by whatever means possible. Lie to her. Seduce her. Tell her what she needs to hear. Whatever it takes.”

  Wickham stroked his chin dubiously. “But what if she refuses to listen to me?”

  Caroline shrugged. “Then compromise her.”

  “Darcy already compromised her!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Then do so again!”

  Wickham frowned as if doing a complicated mathematics problem. “Can a woman be compromised twice?”

  She hated relying on such an idiot. “Of course, she can! Just compromise her…more thoroughly. Even you can do that.”

  Wickham looked a little sick. “Y-Yes. But Darcy will not like it.”

  “It will be too late for Mr. Darcy to do anything by that point,” Caroline said. “He will lose interest.”

  “This is quite a bit more effort on my part,” Wickham said, scanning the area for observers. “You did promise me more money.”

  Caroline gritted her teeth. “I promised you more money when you accomplished our objective, which you have singularly failed to do.”

  Wickham crossed his arms and settled back into the bench. “I am risking getting punched by Darcy or arrested—or both—while you lounge in luxury giving orders.”

  Caroline sighed. She had been prepared for this objection but had hoped to obtain his assistance without additional payment. She reached into her reticule and extracted a small pouch of coins. “For your pains”—she dropped them into Wickham’s outstretched hand—“but I shall give you no more until Elizabeth Bennet is gone from Mr. Darcy’s life. Then he will surely propose to me.”

  Wickham opened the pouch and stared greedily at the coins. “Consider it done.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The morning after her father arrived, Elizabeth was surprised by another visit from Mr. Darcy. Considering how abominably he had been abused by her father, Elizabeth had rather expected he would stay at home and avoid the entire Bennet clan. But he was sober and even-tempered and greeted her father cordially. He then extended an invitation for the entire Gardiner family as well as Elizabeth and her father to join him and his sister in a box for a performance at Astley’s Amphitheatre.

  He could not have chosen a better invitation. Although the Gardiners had attended Astley’s before, they were happy to have an activity which included their children and eager to see the Amphitheatre’s special performance for the Christmas season. Elizabeth’s father, who disliked London, had grumbled that he might as well go while he was in town, but she could see that he was curious about the famous show.

  Elizabeth had never attended a show at Astley’s and was looking forward to it with eager anticipation as they all climbed into Mr. Darcy’s carriage. Unfortunately, he was not aboard as the space was crowded enough with four adults and numerous young Gardiners sitting on everyone’s laps. The barouche was well-sprung and quite comfortable without being ostentatious. Her father noted all the details; Elizabeth could see that he was impressed despite himself.

  Mr. Darcy was waiting to hand her out of the carriage when it rolled to a stop in front of the theatre. “Miss Bennet.” Touching his hand was like touching a burning ember. She was shocked at the electricity that traveled up her arm and spread throughout her body from a simple contact between their fingers. The slight widening of Mr. Darcy’s eyes suggested that he was as affected as she was. If only she could step closer to him and explore what was happening between them. If she could understand what occurred behind that stern demeanor. Was he feeling the same way she was?

  In truth, she did not believe anyone in her life had ever regarded her quite the way he did. His dark eyes beheld her with a warmth she would not have believed was within his capabilities. But there was also a hint of apprehension in his expression, as if all his hopes and dreams rested upon her shoulders. It gave her a heady sense of power over such a formidable, self-contained man. Yet her nerves also buzzed with anxiety as his expectations weighed her down. What if she decided she did not wish to be married to him?

  Her father cleared his throat, and Elizabeth realized she had been clasping Mr. Darcy’s hand longer than was proper. Coloring, she took a step back from him. He tore his eyes from hers and greeted the Gardiners and her father.

  “Please allow me to introduce my sister, Miss Georgiana Darcy, and my cousin, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam.” Only then did Elizabeth notice two people standing behind Mr. Darcy. Miss Darcy was as pretty as Elizabeth remembered, but she was plainly shy in so much company and would not look directly at anyone in the party. The colonel was a plain man with an open, unassuming countenance. He greeted everyone with easy, friendly manners even as he regarded Elizabeth with undisguised curiosity.

  Before leading the way through the crowds, Mr. Darcy offered Elizabeth his arm while his cousin took Miss Darcy’s. She felt quite important on the arm of such an elegantly dressed man and at the front of such a procession. Heads turned their way, and women whispered behind their fans as they proceeded through the crowds. What would it be like to have this experience everywhere she went? Elizabeth could not quite imagine it.

  Their box was large, elegantly appointed, and quite close to the stage. Mr. Darcy seated Elizabeth at the front and took the seat beside hers. Behind them, her father cleared his throat as if to object to the arrangement, but Mr. Darcy fixed him with a steady gaze and he subsided. The others settled into chairs arranged throughout the rest of the box, although everyone would get a good view of the performance.

  Some of the younger Gardiners crowded up to the edge of the box, peering down at the stage and the throngs of people in amazement. Elizabeth was surprised when Miss Darcy knelt down next to young Harry and little Cassandra, chatting with them about what they would see. Soon she was surrounded by the entire crowd of Gardiner children. Apparently, Miss Darcy’s shyness did not extend to children.

  The Amphitheatre itself was different from any theatre Elizab
eth had ever seen. There was the customary proscenium stage, but in front of it, a large ring, sprinkled with sawdust, had been laid on the floor. Since Astley’s was primarily a riding exhibition, Elizabeth guessed the ring was where the horses would run. Ingenious ramps led between the ring and the stage.

  She did not know whether the nervous flutters in her stomach resulted more from the anticipation of seeing the famous show or mingled excitement and anxiety over Mr. Darcy’s proximity. Every time she glanced in his direction, she found his dark eyes upon her, sending excited thrills down her spine.

  Then the performance began, immediately exceeding all of Elizabeth’s expectations. Horses and riders thundered across the stage, down the ramps, around the ring, and onto the stage again, moving so swiftly that their colorful costumes were a blur. It was a dazzling exhibition.

  During the acts that followed, Elizabeth could not decide which was more thrilling: the rope twirler or the juggler or the man who rode two horses at once. Then there was a rider who rode three horses at once!

  She could not stop applauding the trick riders who jumped on and off horseback with ease, grabbing swords from the floor without even breaking stride. Next there was a man who juggled while on horseback. The horses were bedecked with garlands of greenery and red velvet ribbons. A group of mummers performed a short Christmas play. Elizabeth felt fortunate she could see the performance at Christmastide.

  In between these acts, the clowns kept the crowd laughing. Elizabeth particularly liked the male clown who chased after a female clown with a piece of mistletoe, trying to steal a kiss. Even her father was chuckling.

  A few minutes into the performance, Mr. Darcy’s hand reached over and enclosed hers. He regarded her anxiously—perhaps concerned that she would pull away—but relaxed when she smiled at him. The touch of his hand should have been odd, but instead it was warm and comforting.

  She was almost sorry when the interval arrived, breaking the performance’s magical spell. Elizabeth had no need to leave the box, but the Gardiners took her father to meet some acquaintances they had noticed in the audience, while the colonel and Miss Darcy herded the children out in search of refreshments and an opportunity to run about. Suddenly, Elizabeth was alone with Mr. Darcy.

  She stood, seeking a better view of the theatre. “It is wonderful! Thank you, Mr. Darcy, for inviting us.”

  “Please call me William,” his deep voice rumbled.

  “But—” Elizabeth was about to object to such impropriety. Then she reminded herself that the man had proposed to her. She swallowed. “I will…try.”

  This earned a small smile. “I cannot tell you how much it pleases me to see you so enjoying yourself.”

  Oh, Lord, he was so close and so distracting. She needed to find something to talk about—something to think about besides his lopsided smile. She said the first thing that came into her head. “I wish Jane were here. She loves riding, and her spirits could do with some improvement.”

  His brows drew together. “She is out of spirits?”

  Oh. Elizabeth had not meant to divulge that. “Well…since she hurt her ankle…” Mr. Darcy—William—nodded. An impulse Elizabeth did not understand insisted that she be honest with this man. “But really the melancholy started when your party left Netherfield.”

  William stiffened. There was something in his eyes…Could he verify Elizabeth’s suspicions about why they had left Hertfordshire? Had Mr. Bingley’s sisters insisted he give up Jane? She gazed down at the audience, attempting a casualness she did not feel. “It was a hard blow for her when Mr. Bingley departed. Do you know when he will return?”

  His eyes widened, giving him a slightly panicked appearance. “No, I do not.” The words emerged in a rush. “He has not confided his plans to me.”

  Elizabeth nodded, trying not to think about Jane’s wan face upon their parting.

  William shifted uneasily and turned his eyes toward the stage. The movement tugged at her hand, and Elizabeth realized their fingers were still entangled. Heavens! Had anyone noticed? A quick glance at the audience confirmed that nobody appeared to be watching them, but if they should…

  The sensible act would be to release his hand, but Elizabeth knew by now that she was unlikely to do the sensible thing when it came to Mr. Darcy—so, of course, she wanted to continue holding his hand. She pulled him toward the back of the box, where the shadows and the folds of the curtain would shield them from view.

  Mr. Darcy—William—raised his eyebrows in surprise but did not object. She shrugged self-consciously. “One is so exposed in a box. I desire more privacy.”

  William did not respond but immediately took advantage of the dim lighting to cup her cheek with his hand. “I am in agony, Elizabeth,” he groaned. “Can you give me any hope that you will accept my suit, or is this all in vain?”

  Did he indeed believe his situation could possibly be as hopeless as all that? Did he not note the signs that her opinion of him was improving, softening? She swallowed, finding it difficult to meet eyes so full of desperation. “Indeed, sir, I would not hold the hand of a man I had firmly decided against. I am not prepared to give you an answer, but there is reason for hope. Ample reason.”

  His forehead creased. “But your father’s objections…”

  “He and I spoke last night. He is not as intransigent as he appeared at first, but rather he is willing to reserve judgment.”

  William’s head was bowed. “That is good to hear.”

  Elizabeth could restrain herself no longer. The memory of the kisses in the garden and the park haunted her. She could feel the ghostly presence of his lips on hers—and she wanted more. More contact with this man. More touching. Stepping forward, she reached out a hand to touch his arm, his shoulder.

  “Oh, Good Lord, Elizabeth,” William moaned as his other hand wound around her waist and pulled her gently toward him. His lips met hers for a soft kiss. As he deepened the kiss, one hand moved to the back of her head while the other pulled her more tightly against him. They moved in harmony, as if their entire bodies participated in the kiss. His tongue licked along the seam of her lips. She parted them almost involuntarily, and suddenly his tongue was in her mouth!

  ***

  Darcy could not believe Elizabeth was allowing him such liberties. In the dark recesses of his mind, he knew he should not be taking advantage of her momentary pliancy, but such self-control was far beyond his capacity at the moment. Touching her…feeling her warmth against his…it was so exhilarating that he could not help discovering new places on her body to explore. The more of her he touched, the more he wanted to touch.

  One hand had traveled up her back and was daringly caressing the bare skin of her shoulder blades. He waited for her to stiffen and pull away, but instead she moaned and snuggled closer in his arms. He was lost.

  Their tongues entangled, dueled, and created amazing sensations. Simultaneously, his fingers inched under the edge of her bodice in the back. Forbidden territory, but the skin was so soft. So tempting. His fingertips traced down her spine, vertebra by vertebra, deeper and deeper under the back of her dress. She arched her back and moaned, the sound further enflaming his desire.

  He pressed her against the wall, the better to feel the soft pillows of her breasts and the roundness of her stomach. The yielding softness of her body and the hardness of his. They were so close he could feel the rapid beat of her heart.

  Now his other hand was creeping under the edge of the neckline in the front of her gown. What would her breasts feel like in his hands? At the last minute, Darcy ripped his mouth from hers. “Good Lord, Elizabeth, tell me to stop!”

  Elizabeth stared up at him, blinking owlishly.

  “I must stop now while I may still call myself a gentleman,” he panted, turning his head down and away, unable to meet her eyes lest his desire combust again. He had expected her to stop him, to pull away or slap him or object. What did it mean that she had done none of those things?

  When he had fi
nally mastered himself sufficiently, he dared to look back at Elizabeth, expecting to see condemnation. Instead, her eyes held a kind of wildness, almost frustration that he had interrupted their mutual pleasure. A distressed noise emerged from deep in her throat. Was it possible that her desire for him matched his for her? Could he possibly be that fortunate?

  Pulling on the front of his waistcoat, she leaned forward for another kiss. Unable to completely resist her touch, Darcy placed both hands on her waist and brushed her lips softly before pulling away with great reluctance. “Not here, my love. Although I will gladly kiss you elsewhere at any time of your choosing.”

  She was still breathing hard, and her eyes were round with wonder. “H-How…do you cause me to forget myself so?”

  Darcy shook his head slowly. “I could ask the same of you.”

  Her hand stroked the front of his waistcoat, causing him to shiver in reaction. “Is it always so?” she asked. “Kissing?”

  He was the only man she had ever kissed like that. How thrilling. “Never,” he whispered. “It is never like that in my experience.”

  She smiled slowly and a little bit wickedly. “Mr. Darcy—”

  “Elizabeth, please call me William,” he sighed.

  “Very well, William—"

  “Mr. Darcy!” thundered Bennet’s voice from behind him.

  Darcy jumped backward from Elizabeth, nearly stumbling over a chair. No doubt his expression displayed his guilt.

  Red-faced, Bennet trembled with rage. “If this is how you conduct yourself, you can hardly call yourself a gentleman, sir!”

  Darcy said nothing. Bennet was right. Why could he not prevent himself from touching Elizabeth?

  Elizabeth, however, would not tolerate such treatment. With a single step, she inserted herself between Darcy and her father.

  “Out of my way, Lizzy!” Bennet demanded.

  She held up her hands to prevent her father from reaching Darcy. “Papa, he did nothing I did not want.”

  “You are too young to know what you want!” Bennet growled.

  Oh no. Darcy could have advised the man that those were the wrong words to say to his daughter.