A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation

by Gayle Lynn Messick

  “Choice? No, Darcy.” Rawlings called out. “Do not offer me up. I will find the right woman for me. I have done as you do—I mulled this over and over. Sometime in the early morning, I arrived at a conclusion. I was using the delightfully pert Miss Lydia as more of a stab at the members of the Ton. It would have been wonderful to thrust a silly girl their way. But that was selfish. I was selfish. I never thought about her.”

  “Why are you here?”

  “I will help, but I will not be the solution. Agreed?”

  “Agreed. But we must leave now.”

  When the two opened the door to the front steps, they gasped in surprise. Blake stood next to Hercules, saddled and ready to go.

  “You slept in this morning. I have been ready for hours.”

  “Miss Elizabeth will be worthy of her title. I will fix this for you, Blake, and then you may wed.”

  “Do not be so downbeat, Darcy. I suspect Elizabeth had made her decision. She had asked I meet her in the garden before she received the letter. I suspect she was going to decline my proposal. Elizabeth loves you. I saw it in the way she sought you out when she spoke of her problems. She watched your every move, and they sparkled whenever she caught hold of yours. When she looked at me it was, well, rather dull and boring. You have won her heart and mind. In fact, I believe she loved you all along. She reacted passionately to you as a woman would. With me, she was a young girl reacting to pretty words. So you see, she has chosen you!”

  “Then why are coming with me?”

  “I will help drive away the scandal because I love her. I do not wish to she her hurt or cry ever again. But understand this, Darcy, we are not now friends.”

  A lump formed in both men’s throats. They bowed to each other before Blake mounted his Andalusian.

  “So, Darcy, what part of town will you drag me to this time? Can you not find better friends?”

  Darcy entered his carriage and the men left for London. Once seated, he retrieved the poem, The Vine and the Oak, he had started many times, but had not finished. This morning he searched for an answer.

  But now the boding clouds arise

  And scowling darkness veils the skies;

  Harsh thunders roar -- red lightnings gleam,

  And rushing torrents close the scene.

  He braced himself while the carriage sped down the road. “I will right this wrong, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  Epilogue

  It did not take long for Darcy to find Wickham and arrange the marriage. Afterwards, Bingley sent word about his engagement. Darcy needed nothing else to convince him of Elizabeth’s true feelings. Blake’s acknowledgement had been enough. He moved quickly this time propelled by the whispery winds of hope and courted the woman he loved, had loved, and would love until the end of his days.

  ***

  “Finally, we are alone!” Darcy nuzzled Elizabeth’s neck while he pulled the blanket tighter around them. The carriage lurched forward. “Mrs. Darcy, my beautiful bride, are you comfortable? We have many miles to travel.”

  “Four and twenty miles of good road, sir. I call it a very easy distance.” Elizabeth raised her brow, and her smirk did not widen until Darcy laughed.

  “Indeed. Less than half a day’s journey. Oh, Elizabeth. I was such a fool in Kent. Why did you change your mind about me? I never believed you would ever accept my attentions.”

  “I assure you, ever since I read your letter; I have long been most heartily ashamed of what I said.”

  “Did it… did it soon make you think better of me? Did you, on reading it, give any credit to its contents?”

  “Yes, it was the beginning of removing all my prejudices.”

  Darcy clasped her hand and drew it to his mouth. He placed several gentle kisses on it, before gazing into her eyes, unable to conceal the sadness he felt. “I knew that what I wrote must give you pain, but it was necessary. I hope you have destroyed the letter. There were several parts, especially the one about Mr. Gardiner, which I should dread you having the power of reading again. I can remember several expressions which might justly make you hate me.”

  “The letter shall certainly be burned, if you believe it essential to the preservation of my regard; but, though we have both reason to think my opinions not entirely unalterable, they are not, I hope, quite so easily changed as that implies.”

  He pulled her hand to his chest, pressing it against his pounding heartbeat. He willed her touch to still his heart. “When I wrote that letter, I believed myself perfectly calm and cool, but I am since convinced that it was written in a dreadful bitterness of spirit.”

  She caressed his cheek with the gentlest of touches. “The letter, perhaps, began in bitterness, but it did not end so. The adieu was charity itself. But think no more of the letter. The feelings of the person who wrote, and the person who received it, are now so widely different from what they were then, that every unpleasant circumstance attending it ought to be forgotten. You must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.”

  “I cannot give you credit for any philosophy of the kind. Your retrospections must be so totally void of reproach, which the contentment arising from them is not of philosophy, but of innocence. But with me, it is not so. Painful recollections will intrude which cannot, which ought not, to be repelled.”

  Elizabeth sighed. “My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after that evening?”

  “Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction. And even now, I catch a glimpse of a pair of sparkling blue eyes—”

  Elizabeth pulled away. “Blue eyes! Mine are brown!”

  “Not yours, my dear wife, but your sister Jane’s. And yours are brown with flecks of gold and green that either sparkle in happiness or flicker in anger. I have been the recipient of both reactions.” He softly massaged her temples with his fingers and when she closed her eyelids, he placed a soft kiss on each one. “Your eyes are always in my mind. I know every fleck, every nuance, every sparkle, and every tear.”

  “I am pleased you know mine so well, but why would you think of Jane’s?”

  “Let me tell you a story about a trial of a most arrogant man.” Darcy described his catharsis and detailed not only the dream he called Acceptance but all the actions he took to improve himself.

  When he finished, Elizabeth leaned in, kissed his cheek, and gently rubbed the small scar on his chin. “He was wrong to hit you. I had wondered that day if he had done this to you. His hand was bruised. He should not have done this.”

  He shook his head. “I deserved it. I kept him from making you his wife.” Darcy hung his head. “I am the worst of all the prideful men.”

  Elizabeth placed her soft lips on the nick on his chin. “I love you. Indeed, you have no improper pride. You are perfectly amiable. You do not know how good you really are; pray do not pain me by speaking of yourself in such terms.”

  Darcy pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. He kissed her head. “Elizabeth, I cannot believe you are here with me. Me! I do not deserve you, my dearest, loveliest owner of my heart.” He felt her shiver when he tasted her neck with his lips and then nibbled her ear. Finally, he whispered, “You have made me the happiest of men. I love you with all of my body, my soul, my very being.” His lips met hers and as the kiss deepened, he felt her pressing herself into him. Pulling back slightly, he whispered, “But why did you choose me? I believed your heart belonged to him.”

  “Lord Blake is a good sort of man. He is charming and has a pleasant way with words. But…” She turned her head away and watched the snow falling in tiny flakes outside the window. Elizabeth pulled the blanked tighter when she heard the wind howl.

  Darcy gently turned her chin towards him until their gazes locked. He pleaded with her to continue.

  “But, there was s
omething lacking. It is hard to explain, but he is everything proper and he was always most pleasant. I think I enjoyed his attentions. It was most flattering a marquess pursued me. I liked him very much, and at one time, I even thought about what life would be like as a duchess. But then he left, and yet I only felt anger at my mother; I did not cry for him.”

  Darcy whispered in her ear. “My dearest, that may explain why you did not choose him, but why did you choose me?”

  “Oh, my choice was easily made once...”

  When she did not continue, Darcy pulled her face closer to his until their lips met again. “Do not tell me it was because of your youngest sister. I never wished you to feel obligated—”

  “No! I fear to tell you the truth.” She gazed at him and recognized his fear. She caressed his cheek with her fingers until he caught hold of her hand and brought it to his lips.

  “Please, do not fear me.”

  “After reading your letter and after Uncle Gardiner’s suggestion as to who was behind the return of our dowries—”

  Darcy straightened up. “I beg your pardon for interrupting, but your uncle should not have discussed this. And my dearest wife, I was not the only one working to right the wrong done to your father. Blake pressured his uncle, Lord Harrowby, to issue the Parliamentary patent under the new gas light company name. Without his help, it could not have been so easily fixed. I do not deserve the credit.”

  “You are an honorable man, William, to champion Lord Blake in this way. What you say may be true, but you are the one that helped Mr. Murdoch begin again, and that was just as important.”

  Darcy sighed. “I do not believe you have told me yet why you choose me. Do not be anxious about telling me the truth, Elizabeth.”

  “By the time I attended tea with your sister, my eyes had been opened to your true nature, and I had begun to look upon you in a different light. I discovered exactly how foolish all my opinions had been when, by accident, I overheard several things your servants said you had done.”

  Darcy jerked his head up. “What! Mrs. Geoffries must be made aware of this. Servants should not gossip, and I will not tolerate it.”

  “William. This is why I did not wish to tell you. Everyone shares stories.”

  Darcy caressed her cheek, skimming his fingers up and down along her jawline. “Do not fret. This breach was to my advantage. I will do nothing more than to remind Mrs. Geoffries gossiping is not allowed.” His fingers stopped, and he leaned closer until their faces were close enough for their foreheads to converge. He inhaled the lavender scent enveloping the space between them. “Now what did they say? You have left me curious.”

  “They spoke of your generosity to a maid when you found her a place for her confinement. At that moment, I knew I had misjudged you in every way. Yes, my love, you showed much of your true character when you included my uncle in your business. Your efforts to reclaim our dowries, assisting Lydia, and even by your confession to Bingley helped change my opinion, but it was the maid’s plight that turned me completely to your favor.” She nestled back into the velvety seat cushion and then laughed. She bolted upright.

  “What?”

  “I remember a tray of treats sent to Jane’s room when I rudely left you sitting alone at breakfast at Netherfield one morning. I just now realized you sent them. See, my love. How can I not love a man who sends me sweet treats after being ill-treated by my own prejudice? I did misunderstand you and did so willingly. I was just as you said.”

  He smiled; a twinkle appeared. “Is it my vanity or pride you love more?” His lips met hers before she could answer. “I am vain. I want you to think of me as handsome, witty, and charming, damn charming.”

  “I have always thought you were handsome. I recently discovered the witty and as to charming…you are the most beguiling of men.” She snuggled next to him, and when she patted his jacket, she heard the crinkle of paper. “What is this?”

  He pulled out two papers. When he opened the first sheet, she gasped when she recognized her signature.

  “The pen! Oh, I cherish the metal tip, and to think you sent it to me so soon after I abused you so abominably to your face.” She lowered her head. “I felt ashamed.”

  “Do not. I deserved every word, every glare, everything.”

  “We will not quarrel for the greater share of blame annexed to that event. The conduct of neither, if strictly examined, will be irreproachable; but since then, we have both, I hope, improved in civility.”

  “Such as this?” Darcy kissed her hand. “Or this?” He leaned in and kissed her neck. “Or is this the definition of civility?” He placed his lips upon hers, pressing them against her mouth, tasting her lips. If he could have fused her body to his, he would be a contented man.

  Breaking the kiss, Elizabeth gazed at him. “You are the best of men, and when considering your fundamental character, you own no faults. Especially your… civility!”

  When she held her mouth for another kiss, he placed his lips upon hers, gently at first. As she leaned in and her lips parted, he tapped her tongue with his. She pulled back, but could not break the kiss as his hand holding her head tightened its grip and his kiss deepened. And when her lips parted again, he slipped his tongue inside causing her body to arch. He drew her closer when she responded in a way he had only experienced in his dreams. One arm held her close, as the other explored her neck, and then her shoulder before slowly moving down her body until he seized her waist, crushing her against him, as they continued to discover each other with their lips, their tongues, their hands. After a few moments, he pulled back and straightened his cravat.

  “You are a most civil person, William. Most civil!” She dabbed her forehead with a handkerchief, his handkerchief, the one she carried with her every day since that fateful day in the Pemberley library.

  “Wait, my love. You said they mentioned several things. See, I am vain. Now, no more civility until you reveal all, Mrs. Darcy! You must tell me, or else I would, um, withhold my special brand of politeness for a month.” He spied her flushed cheeks through her exaggerated petulant expression, causing his smile to stretch across his face.

  She raised her chin. “But perhaps a little civility might cause me to recall what exactly they said.”

  Darcy did not waste any time, leaned down, and almost met her lips with his. He held his position for a second before pulling back. “I never knew being so courteous could be so delicious, but my dear, sweet Elizabeth, you must tell me first.”

  With a smirk on her face, Elizabeth leaned back into the cushion, feeling the softness of the material with her hand until she felt a finger nudging her in her side. “Very well. Miss Kent.”

  Darcy lifted his brows. “Miss Kent? What did they say I did with her?”

  “You smiled at her.” She turned to face Darcy. “You never smiled at me, and yet you smiled at her. She is very beautiful.”

  “My dear wife, I was practicing. You did admonish me to practice! Now let me practice being civil again.”

  She acquiesced, and they spent the next several minutes involved in all types of their personal mode of good manners. Until, that was, when Darcy laughed. “You were jealous.”

  “Yes. I admit it. I did not like hearing that you were smiling at another lady; and then to meet this beautiful woman. Oh, William. I felt a pain deep in my heart. And that is also how I later knew I did not feel the same way about Lord Blake.”

  “Oh? I do not understand.”

  “Men never do!” Elizabeth laughed but when Darcy silently pleaded with her she continued, “When I entered the drawing room at Pemberley and spotted Miss Kent I was so relieved when she was talking to Lord Blake and not…” She whispered, “you. I looked around immediately, searching the room in fear and I was comforted to find you standing by your sister.”