by A J Woods
Alas, there was no time to indulge in fantasy, and after several moments, she finally found what she was looking for in a large bound volume: papers, from exactly the year she required, presented to the House of Commons from the East India Company.
After lifting down the heavy book, she began to thumb through the pages, taking great care not to leave behind any creases.
And there it was, at last! The exact detail she needed to add accuracy and real-life resonance to Thomas and Meera’s next scene together in her story.
Instead of bringing along the weightier notebook this time, Elizabeth had simply tucked into her bag the pertinent manuscript pages, folded into quarters, so that she could add in the information directly. Setting the open book down briefly on a small end table, she pulled out her papers and spread them inside the volume while she made her additions with a pencil stub; then she picked all of it back up and was about to replace the book when…
“You seem to have a keen interest in that volume, especially as someone who adamantly warned against gifting my sister with history books.”
Elizabeth let out a yelp as she slammed the book closed and it slid from her hands, landing on the floor with a loud crash.
“What on earth!” she shouted, spinning abruptly to find Mr. Darcy staring at her with his arms crossed—smiling, no less, like a Cheshire cat.
Chapter 6
“I apologize for startling you, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, trying with little success to adjust his features into a more serious expression.
“I daresay your vain attempts to stifle your laughter make it rather impossible to believe a word of that statement, Mr. Darcy,” she countered as he bent to pick up the book.
He handed it gently over to her rather than returning it to the shelf himself. Another person might have paid no care to the gesture, but to her it indicated that she wasn’t entirely unwelcome, and that she might be permitted to continue perusing the volume if she so wished.
Mr. Darcy gazed at her a long moment before speaking, and all she could think to do was to grip the book tightly while holding her chin up high, ready to accept whatever admonishment he was well within his rights to deliver. She was painfully aware that she had no business trespassing this far into his home, and had rather vehemently neglected all attention to propriety; alongside which, she was not equipped with an excuse for her behavior that any reasonable person could be expected to understand.
“The reason for my amusement is that I did not expect to discover you here, and I am quite surprised,” he said, offering an elbow as he drew the other arm behind his back. “If you would like, Miss Elizabeth, I am happy to escort you back downstairs so that you may return to the festivities. I am sure you will be missed before much time has passed.”
She did not accept his offer. “You are quite right, Mr. Darcy. However, I do not see how we will make it back to the ballroom without being noticed, and I do not wish to encourage any curious gossipers to invent a fictional reason as to why I might have wandered up the stairs of this lovely home.”
Had she seen what she thought she saw? If she was not mistaken, the stoic, hard-hearted Darcy’s eyes had widened ever so briefly at her blunt statement, before returning to their usual penetrating stare.
“Then what do you propose we do, Miss Elizabeth? For the same reason you mentioned, we cannot very well stay here in the library indefinitely.” He held out a palm as though to emphasize his point.
Pulling her eyes away from his, she looked around the room and found no solution to their predicament.
Seconds continued to pass as she remained mute. To make matters worse, her cheeks began to warm—from the fire, or from her host’s justified but unwelcome intrusion on her errand, she could not discern—and she longed for a drink of something cool to soothe the increasing dryness of her mouth.
He moved forward a single step. “Are you quite alright?” he asked, reaching out a hand. “I must say, you look suddenly unwell.”
She passed him the book and he set it aside, after which she did accept the elbow he once again offered and allowed him to lead her to a large window. It was impossible not to take notice of their proximity, and the sudden nearness of his masculine energy did nothing to calm her already frayed nerves.
“It is cooler here,” he said, studying her face. “Rest a moment.”
Not accustomed to being looked after in this way by a man, Elizabeth stood motionless at first but then did as he suggested, and he occupied the seat across from her.
“In the interest of easing your mind, I should inform you that there was no one in the hall when I came in, and I take care to employ only staff who uphold a certain level of discretion. Not that I have anything to conceal,” he added quickly. “Just that I have always required that the people in my household respect my family’s privacy, as any prudent master would.”
He paused. “When you are ready to return to the party, I will ensure that you are able to do so without unwanted attention.”
Elizabeth nodded at his words but could not relax into the chair for all its plush comfort; she sat stiffly with her reticule in her lap. Mr. Darcy’s comment about his staff’s discretion could easily be construed as a reprimand to her, for she had certainly invaded his privacy by coming into his library without invitation and, whether he had intended it, she felt properly chastised, as well she should.
“It is my turn to apologize, Mr. Darcy, for wandering this far into your house and for making use of your library without permission. I may appear stubborn and impetuous—as my mother has brought to my awareness on more than one occasion—but I will admit when I am wrong.”
Oh, but it was so difficult to do so, especially to such a man, who owed profuse apology to her sister—rather, her entire family.
His expression was indecipherable.
“You are mistaken, Miss Elizabeth. As you will recall, I did in fact welcome you to use my library. I just did not imagine you would go about it in quite this manner.” He raised an eyebrow. “Miss Elizabeth, does this…quest…have anything to do with the book that your sister revealed you are writing, upon our recent encounter at Hatchards?”
Elizabeth issued a little puff of breath and fidgeted with her beaded bag, not meeting his eyes. “Revealed is certainly an apt choice of word. I did not intend for anyone to know of my project until I am ready to publish someday—if doing so does not turn out to be far too ambitious a design.”
At this, Mr. Darcy’s features softened and Elizabeth caught sight of a little tick of motion at the intersection where his sculpted jaw met the softer shell of his ear, triggering a similar jump of her own heartbeat. Though he did not smile, she had a clear sense that he was not angry with her for her actions that evening, and this caused more uneasiness than if, perhaps, he had shouted and demanded she leave the room at once.
She was accustomed to the stern, unfeeling Mr. Darcy whose company she had endured at Netherfield; this version of him was different, and she found the change perplexing. All the while, a ball carried on downstairs and guests would surely soon begin to wonder what had become of their host.
“Why should publishing your work be too ambitious?” he asked, the tone of his voice indicating that he genuinely longed to know her answer.
He leaned forward slightly. “You are intelligent and perhaps more well-read than most in my acquaintance. Certainly, if anyone has the ability and determination to write a novel that others want to read, it is yourself.”
Elizabeth’s pulse sped up to an alarming rate and her breath caught in her throat. What on earth had enticed Mr. Darcy to pay her such a compliment? And more importantly, why did it affect her so?
“Indeed, I see no reason why you should not be published many times over, if that is the direction in which you endeavor,” he added.
She swallowed and forced herself to speak, though the words dispensed were shaky and less self-assured than her ordinary voice. “Thank you. That is kind of you to say.”
He
gazed at her with disquieting warmth and Elizabeth noticed, not for the first time, how very dark were his eyes, their mahogany depths intense and startling.
She wondered what he experienced when he looked at her. Was it the same irritation and exasperation he’d seemed to feel so strongly when first they’d met, and many times thereafter until his departure from Hertfordshire…or was it something milder now?
"Whatever our differences, Miss Elizabeth—the multitude of which you did not hesitate to impress upon me as your sister recovered from her illness at Netherfield—they cannot be the sole reason for your intense dislike of me."
He moved forward in his chair until his knees were mere inches away from touching hers, and Elizabeth sensed that if such an event were to occur, she would feel the electricity of that contact all the way up into her chest.
She had never before been alone in a room with a man who was not a member of her family—should not have been even then—but despite all rationality, she recognized that she could trust Mr. Darcy to be a true gentleman in any circumstance. For that reason, she did not jump from her seat and run for the library door; rather, she relaxed back into it and considered his account.
“On the contrary, Mr. Darcy. It is you who made no secret of your abhorrence of me—indeed, of my entire family,” she said, gripping tightly the gold ribbons that adorned her reticule. “And though I am without evidence, I strongly suspect that you are at least in part responsible for the sudden departure of Mr. Bingley from Netherfield, an occurrence which caused in my dear sister the severest wound I have ever known her to suffer.”
He folded his hands and looked downward into his lap to study them as the fire crackled, and several seconds ticked by on a majestic grandfather clock in a far corner of the library.
The irony of feeling so ill at ease in a room that was obviously meant to invoke calm and comfort did not escape Elizabeth’s awareness. She concentrated on breathing slowly in the hope of steadying the rapid beat of her heart.
Up until that very moment, she had only been willing to give credence to her anger and frustration where Mr. Darcy was concerned. Now—piercingly aware of its presence—she acknowledged the hurt that hid beneath.
“Your accusation is not without merit,” he said, finally breaking the thick silence. “If you can spare another few moments here with me, I would be grateful for a chance to explain my actions.”
She met his eyes and found within no sign that she should doubt his sincerity. Not possessed of an appropriate response and, as well, quite curious about what he might reveal regarding his previous behavior, Elizabeth simply nodded and offered her full attention.
“I confess that, upon spending time in the company of your mother, father, and three younger sisters, I was often astonished at their want of propriety,” he began, pressing his long fingers together. “And, having witnessed as much, I determined that a marriage between one of my most treasured friends and your eldest sister—inasmuch as it would forever bond him to such a family—would not be acceptable.”
Elizabeth shifted in her seat. Mr. Darcy’s brows knit, and several conflicting emotions seemed at war behind his dark eyes.
“I have not the same grievance against Miss Bennet and yourself, if that holds any merit in your opinion.”
“If you had even a little concern for my opinion, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said, her voice unsteady, “I venture you would not have taken such hasty action—the result of which has caused my sister unspeakable sorrow—without first seeking consultation with your friend.”
She raised her chin and stared at him as though they were on opposite sides of a battlefield. “You may have Mr. Bingley’s best interest in mind, or so believe you do, but you are not his keeper, and in my opinion, you are not at liberty to make decisions for him about what lies within his heart.”
Looking not a little contrite, he reached out a hand and opened his mouth to speak, then let his palm fall back against his knee without a word.
Elizabeth’s anxious heart fluttered inside her chest and threatened to burst free and fly straight out of the window. She was still angry, yes, but she was also grateful for the chance to air out the frustrations she had been carrying around these past weeks.
“I must admit that I did alert my friend to the inevitable peril of such a match,” he said quietly.
At this, Elizabeth stiffened, but held her tongue. Aware since childhood of her tendency toward drawing swift conclusions, she knew it was only fair to let the man finish explaining his conduct before she sentenced him, at least within her heart, to complete condemnation.
Mr. Darcy went on. “But it was not only the unsuitable nature of Mr. Bingley’s and Miss Bennet’s possible courtship that turned me against the idea. There was also the matter of Miss Bennet herself.”
“What can you mean?” Elizabeth interrupted, unable to maintain patience despite her promise to herself to hear him out. To receive criticism of her younger siblings and parents was one matter; she would not tolerate the same directed toward Jane.
“As genial and impressionable as my friend is wont to be, I do not at all believe that I have it in my power to have set him against Miss Bennet on my own. It was your sister’s lack of interest in him that permitted me to determine with confidence that the two of them should not be encouraged any further. I—”
Elizabeth held up a hand. “Mr. Darcy, with all due respect, I must stop you from saying any more on the subject of my sister. For you have wildly misjudged the contents of her heart, and I cannot permit you to continue without correction.”
She stopped speaking and pulled in a long breath of air, praying for patience and calm in the face of his outrageous remarks.
When she dared look up again, Elizabeth saw that Mr. Darcy had not taken her rebuke lightly.
Chapter 7
“I know what I saw,” Darcy argued with more force than he intended. How was it that Elizabeth had the power to rile him so and cause him to question everything he’d done, even when he was absolutely certain it had all been in the best interest of those he cared for?
“Miss Bennet did seem delighted to receive the attentions of Mr. Bingley,” he continued, “but no more, I observed, than those of any others with whom she shared dances, and thus I deduced that she reserved no unique fondness for my friend.”
“You know what you think you saw,” Elizabeth said, moving to the edge of her seat. “But I am afraid you judged inaccurately.”
Closing her eyes, she pressed her thumb and forefinger around the bridge of her nose and Darcy felt a pang of remorse for having caused such distress in a woman he…
He what exactly?
When he had left the ballroom in search of the lady, he had been drawn to the library by an unseen force, as if his body knew instinctively where she would be found.
Not a sliver of consideration had he given to what guests might think when they noticed his absence, or what he would do if he was successful in locating her; he’d simply followed the pull, as the tide obeys the moon. And when he’d opened the library doors to catch sight of her standing in a far corner—slender shoulders hunched over, nose deep in a heavy tome as she scribbled something on a piece of paper—the lure had grown stronger still.
The tension had not alleviated until he had offered the crook of his elbow and she’d taken it, the innocent embrace sending a pleasant shiver along his spine…as though having her there, tucked safely against him, was the most natural thing in the world.
Yet, that could not possibly be right…could it? He was certain Elizabeth loathed the very mention of his name.
At that moment, she only peered at him with obvious disappointment, and he found he very much wanted to make things right, to change her mind about him so that she might regard him in a better light.
“You see, Mr. Darcy,” she said, laying her gloved palms open atop her lap. “My sisters and I have spent much of our lives at home rather than in the society of others—especially suitors.”
Darcy was quite sure he had never felt more deplorable than he did at that very moment. His heart pounded in his chest with great ferocity as he resolved to speak plainly without first censoring his thoughts.
He took a deep breath. “I cannot deny your charge, Miss Elizabeth, and it appears I have been remiss in judging you and your eldest sister much too severely. I understand, having had the pleasure of knowing you a little better from our time together during Miss Bennet’s illness at Netherfield, from meeting you again at Hatchards, and talking with you here now, that you are entirely your own creature, singular of mind and spirit, quite without comparison. In addition to realizing my error, I daresay I find myself wanting to spend more time in your company, and wanting to hear your opinion on all things, despite knowing you are determined to have it differ from mine.”
At this last admission, he could not stop himself from grinning. He was teasing her, and he hoped she would grasp the tenderness behind his words.
He was rewarded mightily when her lips turned up at the corners and her eyes met his.
“I am grateful for your apology on this count, Mr. Darcy.” The hard-won smile faded as quickly as it had come. “However, you are not admitted into my good opinion just yet.”
