by Jann Rowland
It was a question to which Darcy did not know the answer. As fond of Bingley as the elder Darcy was, it was possible he might see reason and allow it, since the lady was quiet and unassuming. It was a discussion for another time, however, for they soon entered the town. And there, Darcy saw her.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy drank in the sight of her, fighting her allure which urged him to take her in his arms, to kiss her with abandon, as a man kisses his lover. It was with the utmost self-control that Darcy refrained, instead turning his attention to finding some way to inform her he wished to see her again. The three riders progressed down the street toward where Miss Elizabeth stood with her mount speaking with someone of the town. Then, as they were passing, Miss Elizabeth climbed into the saddle, which provided Darcy an opportunity, behind his cousin and brother as he was.
“Meet me at the meadow,” said Darcy in a low voice without stopping.
Though the young woman appeared startled, Darcy dared not wait for a response. Keeping pace, he continued on behind his companions, listening to their banter and laughter. They separated soon after that, Darcy informing them he meant to visit the bookshop, but after only a perfunctory glance about the shop, he was soon out the door and on his mount again, making his way out of town.
The ride to the meadow seemed interminable, such was his desperation to see the young woman again. As he rode, thoughts of arriving only to find an empty field with no Miss Bennet in attendance plagued him. Darcy was certain she had heard his request. Had she decided to humor him? Though he could not know, he thought it likely she had chosen to follow her father’s command after their last meeting, much as Darcy had himself.
When Darcy urged his mouth through the trees toward the bit of clear space, for a moment he thought she was not there. Then, through the trees, he caught a hint of the lavender color of her dress. And soon he emerged, the woman sitting on a rock with a book, much like the first time Darcy had seen her there. She had come.
“Miss Bennet.”
The tall figure of Mr. Darcy emerging from the trees set Elizabeth’s heart to racing, and she put her book down and rose as he approached. Not having noticed him in Lambton, hearing the whispered request to meet him had surprised her. For a moment, Elizabeth had thought to refuse in deference to her father’s wishes. Then the memory of her last meeting with him and the silent longing of her heart overwhelmed any rational objection, and she had made her way there, alive with impatience for his coming.
Once in place, she had taken her book out of her saddlebag to read while she waited for him, but there was no room for concentration in her heart that day. The anticipation for Mr. Darcy’s arrival rendered her unable to give her attention to the words, and more than once she had risen from her place on the rock to pace, attempting to expend the nervous tension racing through her. It was fortunate, she thought, that she had situated herself again on the rock before he made his appearance, for she did not know how she would explain her behavior if he saw her.
“Mr. Darcy,” said she in response to his greeting, though not without a shudder at the way he caressed her name as he spoke.
The gentleman vaulted down from his saddle and approached her, stopping before her and taking one hand between his. “I hope you will not find me too forward, Miss Elizabeth, but I longed to see you again. These past days of our separation have been torturous.”
A fire began burning deep within Elizabeth’s soul, and so moved was she that she could only whisper in response: “I have felt it too, sir.”
The wide smile with which the gentleman regarded her spoke of promise, a promise of love and devotion, of everything for which she could ever have wished. Of a life of fidelity and trust. Elizabeth had never been jealous of her sisters Jane and Mary, who seemed to find their happiness with little effort. At that moment, however, Elizabeth was certain that what she had found rivaled theirs in a way that suited her in every way. The obstacles in their path, though she knew they would rear their ugly heads, fell away as if they were nothing, allowing Elizabeth to immerse herself in the moment.
“I have longed to see you, Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth laughed. “It seems to me you are repeating yourself, sir.”
The smile he gave her seemed to confirm every hint of Elizabeth’s feelings for this tall, enigmatic man. The feelings which had been building within her burst forth in her own beaming smile for him and the gentleman raised her hand to his lips, gracing it with a featherlight kiss, lingering, yet imparting every hint of his regard.
“Then I think we should not allow so much time to pass between meetings again.”
A hint of the admonition administered by her father made Elizabeth pause, for her happiness receded a moment. Mr. Darcy must have seen it flee, for he became serious in an instant.
“Can I suppose your father has forbidden such meetings, as mine has?” asked Elizabeth, searching the gentleman for the truth.
“Yes, he has,” said Mr. Darcy. “Can we sit while we discuss this matter?”
Nodding her acquiescence, Elizabeth allowed him to lead her to the nearby rock, where Mr. Darcy saw to her comfort before situating himself at her side. Never once in this maneuvering did he release his grip on her hand. Though worry over her father’s decrees had cast a pall over her earlier feelings of bliss, Elizabeth could no more remove her hand from his than she could walk to the moon.
“The first thing I would have you know,” began Mr. Darcy, “is that I would not cast my father’s instructions aside without reason. Nothing less than the most extraordinary circumstances has provoked me to do so.”
“And you consider these extraordinary circumstances?” asked Elizabeth, uncertain as to his meaning.
“I consider you extraordinary, Miss Elizabeth,” replied he.
Elizabeth felt her cheeks heat, as much because of his open admiration as his words. Though she could not speak for a moment, Mr. Darcy did not fill the void, and soon she felt the ability to return to her.
“I feel the same way.”
That small declaration prompted a brilliant smile to infuse his countenance, and he raised her hand to his mouth again, this time his kiss more forceful, more sensual. Every hair on the back of her hand stood up in response to his ministrations, leaving Elizabeth to wonder what the sensation would be like if he kissed her!
“Then we are agreed,” said he.
“We are,” replied Elizabeth. “To act as the voice of reason, however, I doubt our fathers would consider our feelings adequate grounds to ignore their instructions. Especially when you consider we were not supposed to have met enough to form our feelings.”
“To that, I can offer no rebuttal. Though some might consider it mere sophistry, I shall argue a higher calling.”
“In what way?’ asked Elizabeth, amused by his grandiose statement.
“If you consider that we two may be the means by which our families’ enmity may end.”
Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat and she gazed at Mr. Darcy with amazement. “That is premature, sir!”
Perhaps it is,” replied Mr. Darcy. “Do not mistake me, Miss Elizabeth—I do not offer a proposal at present. However, it has often been said I am a man who knows what I want. Though we have not known each other long, I can state with no hint of doubt that you are everything I could ever want in a woman.
“It is not my intention to press you, though it may seem that way.” Mr. Darcy paused, his gaze seeming to pass right through to her heart. “Even if matters between us do not end as I have come to wish, we have each learned that those of the other side of the dispute are not evil, have we not?”
“We have,” replied Elizabeth. “Then through our friendship, when we acknowledge it, we may heal the breach between us.”
“I hope you will not think less of me if I hope friendship is not all there ever is between us, Miss Elizabeth. In essentials, however, you are correct. All it takes is a single step—any journey has such a small beginning.�
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“We shall have to take great care,” replied Elizabeth softly. “Not only in how to make our families know of our connection, regardless of what it is, but also that we do not make matters worse.”
“There is little chance of that, I should think,” replied Mr. Darcy. “It is my hope, Miss Elizabeth, that you will accept that risk. I wish for nothing more.”
Though she thought on the matter for a moment, Elizabeth knew the answer to his unstated question. The thought of enduring his absence again, of ending these meetings, of turning away from him and never experiencing his friendship again caused her to weep inside. To never explore what lay between them and discover if it could be something more left her feeling as if she were wasting her life. No, there was no fighting against this. It was in every way unfathomable.
“There is nothing to risk, Mr. Darcy,” replied Elizabeth. “The greater risk is to separate now, never knowing what might have been.”
“Then we see matters alike.”
With such questions resolved between them, they stayed that way for some time—much longer than perhaps they should have. What passed between them was a mingling of shared confidences, little endearments, a discussion of how they should handle the future, interspersed with brief silences in which they enjoyed each other’s company. More than anything else, they allowed themselves to feel—the regard each possessed for the other, the newness of admiration and trust. The first steps on the path to love without equal.
“You will never guess what I have just discovered!”
Lady Charlotte’s eyes widened at Fitzwilliam’s sudden declaration upon entering the room. It seemed, however, the lady understood the essence of his excitement and amusement and was infected by it, for she invited him to sit nearby and fixed him with a questioning gaze. Fitzwilliam, eager to relay his news, lost no time in speaking.
“Darcy and Miss Elizabeth Bennet have been meeting in secret!”
Amusement gave way to shock, leaving Lady Charlotte gaping at him. “Meeting in secret?”
“Well, perhaps I should say they met in secret today,” said Fitzwilliam, fixing his fiancée with a grin. “Given how cozy they seemed with each other, however, I suspect today was not the first time.”
“You must tell me what you have discovered, Anthony.”
“Darcy has been acting odd of late,” replied Fitzwilliam. “In fact, I date it back to the time of my arrival. He is very closed, as you know—reticent and even taciturn. Whereas he has often been said to be intense, focused on his ambitions, of late he has, at times, been almost inattentive, introspective. While he is not a stranger to introspection, it has seemed to me this time that his reminiscences are softer, somehow pleasanter than what I have often seen in him.
“This morning, he, Alexander, and I rode into Lambton. We passed Miss Elizabeth speaking to someone on the street; I happened to look back at the exact moment he leaned over and said something to her as he passed by. Then he gave us some silly excuse of wishing to go into the bookshop and we parted.”
“It seems he did not do so,” observed Lady Charlotte.
“Oh, he did,” replied Fitzwilliam with a grin. “But his stay there was no more than thirty seconds. When he came out, he went straight for his horse and hurried out of town. If he had not been so inattentive, he might have spotted me following him.”
“He met with Elizabeth?” asked Lady Charlotte.
“There is a small meadow hidden within the trees just off the road joining the two estates to Lambton. It is nestled up against both estates, a small, rocky little plot I found rather picturesque. When Darcy entered, I tied my horse to a tree and followed on foot, and when I neared the edge of the trees, I found Darcy sitting beside Miss Elizabeth on a stone, her hand ensconced within his!”
Lady Charlotte’s eyes widened, and she shook her head. “I might never have expected Elizabeth to behave in such a manner. During the last assembly, I overheard an exchange between them which betrayed no lack of asperity.”
“Then they have moved beyond those feelings,” replied Fitzwilliam. “Should I hazard a guess, I would say that they are close to being in love with each other.”
A sigh escaped Lady Charlotte’s lips, though she smiled at him. “That is so romantic, Anthony. I know you are seeing the humor in the situation, but my thoughts are different. Two people whose families are enemies have seen beyond it, have given themselves over to the other, have put their trust and their devotion in the other. I cannot help but wonder if they will regret it someday.”
“Star-crossed lovers?” asked Fitzwilliam, waggling his eyebrows. “Lovers fated to meet and love for a brief time before their families’ implacable resentment causes them to tear apart in tragedy?”
Lady Charlotte swatted at him. “I do not think they will end entwined in a lovers’ death embrace like the Montague and Capulet of tragic lore.”
“We shall have to see they do not.”
“I do not think we should interfere, Anthony,” said Lady Charlotte, hesitation clear in her manner. “It has the great potential to rebound upon us, make the situation even worse.”
“It is not my contention we should announce their betrothal at your ball,” said Fitzwilliam. “However, I am more convinced than ever the ball allows us the opportunity to have the Bennets and Darcys in one room together, to affect a détente between them. If relations between their families warm, that should give them the opportunity to realize whatever future they desire.”
It was a compelling argument, Fitzwilliam thought, and he could see Charlotte begin to be swayed by it. She gave a slow nod, her gaze inward, considering the possibilities.
“There is little harm in having them both together here,” said she. “There have been enough times when both families have been in attendance at various functions.”
Fitzwilliam nodded, adding: “I am Darcy’s cousin, and I am known to the baron also. If we can induce them to see the other in a different light, it will go a long way toward thawing relations between them.”
“Both the Bennets and Darcys are to attend our ball this year?”
Fitzwilliam and Lady Charlotte looked up as one to see her father regarding them, some concern etched upon his brow. It was clear to Fitzwilliam he had heard nothing of Darcy and Miss Elizabeth, or he was certain the earl would have spoken of the matter. Eager to avoid speaking of the subject, Fitzwilliam essayed to speak first.
“It is time for this silly dispute to end, my lord. My relations have attended other functions with the Bennets in the past.”
“Yes, they have,” replied Lord Chesterfield. “This concerted effort to bring them all to my home at once is different. I wonder if it is wise.”
“No reconciliation can ever be achieved if they refuse to meet,” said Fitzwilliam. “We do not mean to push, nor do we mean to insist. They must attempt to reconcile, or it shall all come to naught. But I think the opportunity is there, particularly with Bingley’s pursuit of Miss Bennet and his connection with the Darcy family. I, myself, witnessed Darcy and Bingley’s reconciliation and Darcy’s pledge to accept Bingley’s future Bennet wife—there must be some congress between them, and Mr. Darcy may be induced to accept the future Mrs. Bingley into his home. To me, this is a good place to begin that process.”
“You agree with this, Charlotte?”
“The Lucases have long known the Bennets and the Darcys are good people, though they persist in this silly disagreement. If we can bring greater peace in the neighborhood, I believe we should do everything we can to forward that ideal, Papa.”
Lord Chesterfield smiled and approached his only daughter, kissing the top of her head. “It is a worthy objective, my dear. But let us take care, shall we? The possibility exists that the situation may be made worse.”
“Of course.”
With a smile and a nod, the earl excused himself. When he was gone, Lady Charlotte turned to Fitzwilliam and fixed him with an arch look.
“I noted you did not speak of Mr
. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth.”
“It seems best to keep that to ourselves,” rejoined Fitzwilliam.
“I agree,” replied she. “Then we have some planning we must do.”
With a grin, Fitzwilliam set to it with a will. As they spoke of the possibilities, he wondered if Darcy might ask Miss Elizabeth to dance in front of everyone. It may be a shock to them all, but sometimes shocks serve a purpose, for they jerk one out of one’s complacency. Yes, Fitzwilliam thought a bolt from above might be just the thing to end this interminable warfare once and for all. And it just might guarantee his cousin’s happiness at the same time.
Chapter XVI
Anne de Bourgh was an observant young woman. Having lived her entire life with a mother bombastic and overbearing, one who did not care to hear another’s opinion, Anne had learned to keep her own counsel, to listen and watch rather than comment. It had saved her many a reprimand and allowed her to form her own opinions, rather than have her mother dictate to her what she thought Anne’s opinions should be.
Thus, the behavior of her cousin startled her. Oh, not that Anthony was not usually irreverent and jovial, or that he did not tease her other cousin—those were well-established habits those in the family had seen for many years. Anne did not think she had ever seen him taunt William to this extent, and when he continued, it drew Anne’s greater interest.
“Well, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam one afternoon while they were all together in Pemberley’s sitting-room, “I wonder if I should be offended you left us in Lambton this morning.”
“I do not know why you cared,” said Alexander. “You were so eager to depart to see your lady, I did not know you had noted my brother’s absence.”
“Of course, I noticed it!” exclaimed Anthony. “Just because I wished to see my betrothed does not mean I am unaware of what is occurring around me. Considering how much Darcy has been riding of late, I should wonder if he has a paramour hidden in the woods somewhere.”
