Ardently

by Caitlin Williams

  Twenty-six

  He owed his moments of greatest happiness to Georgiana, for after dinner and endless polite conversation, a little music and some talk of drawing the evening to a close, Sophy Yorke asked to see some of Georgiana’s sketches. His sister demurred, refusing at first to show them to someone as accomplished as Miss Yorke, but Elizabeth clamoured to see them too and the three ladies wandered down the hallway to a parlour where she had left her book.

  Darcy waited at least fifteen minutes before stretching his legs and found himself pacing the hallway outside the parlour door, hoping to catch Elizabeth on her way back to the drawing room. The door was ajar and he saw the three of them, heads bent together in close confederation, before a writing desk. He heard Georgiana mention the word home. His curiosity piqued, he entered and looked over their shoulders.

  The sketch they studied was one of Pemberley. Georgiana was blushing and decrying her attempts to capture it properly as feeble. Sophy Yorke protested at such modesty and pointed out some of the sketches finer points, the subtle shading and the fine lines. Georgiana looked back and forth between her brother and Elizabeth, thanked Sophy Yorke for her compliments and asked her to give an opinion on a rather fine print she had noticed in the hallway outside the library. The two ladies walked out, leaving Darcy and Elizabeth alone. Georgiana had taken the candle with her and the room grew darker, lighted only by the diffused glow from the hallway lamps. After a quick glance at him, Elizabeth flushed and returned her eyes to the sketch of Pemberley.

  Darcy nodded at it. “Do I dare ask if you approve?”

  “Of the sketch or the house?” She said with a teasing obtuseness.

  He stepped closer, till they were side by side. “I hope the house.” Her hand had been resting on the edge of the sketch, his put his own beside hers.

  He watched as she frowned at the paper, which showed the majestic stone house he loved, spread out across a great expanse of lawn, overlooking a shimmering lake. He was expecting compliments. She, however, wrinkled her nose. “I am not sure. It looks a little small.”

  He was scared for a moment, so important was it to him that she should like Pemberley, his home; where he hoped to take her. Then he caught the slight twitch of her lips. He nudged his shoulder against hers playfully, knocking her off balance. She laughed and gasped up at him in surprise. “Mr Darcy, did you just shove me?”

  “You are a teasing woman,” he told her. “Do you have no compassion for what I have been through this evening?”

  “What you have been through? My whole circumstances have been dissected for public amusement and all I have to recommend me is good teeth.”

  He grew serious, his eyes wandering over her face. “I do not possess the talent for flattery some men do. I could not describe your eyes, or your smile, only to say that I find them bewitching, but you must know, to me, you are the most beautiful of women.” He paused. “And you know, you do have very nice teeth.” His little finger moved half an inch to the right, across the sketch of Pemberley, till it sat against her daintier one, and then his little finger brushed over the nail of hers.

  She looked at their hands for a long time, amazed at the intense feelings the very smallest of touches could stir within her. She knew not from where she found the presence of mind to speak. “I had heard, Mr Darcy, that you found me somewhat altered, from when you knew me before?”

  Surprised, Darcy blinked. “Altered? I might have said as such once. When I first came across you in Bath, I was wondering who this elegant, sophisticated lady before me was. You were altered beyond my knowledge of you. Where was Lizzy Bennet, who liked to traipse around the countryside with her dirty petticoats, messy hair and rosy cheeks?”

  “I see, well as you might now know, from the day of the picnic, she is still inside, somewhere, very much a part of me.”

  “I am very glad to hear it.”

  “I was worried you might think I had led your sister astray.”

  Now he put his whole hand over hers, still on the sketch. “Perhaps she needs a little leading astray, perhaps we both do. Tell me, Miss Bennet, what is Oakdene worth, six, maybe seven thousand a year? Possibly a hundred thousand pounds if it were sold?”

  “Something in that region.” He heard her breathe deeply, saw her chest rise and fall with the effort.

  “So you might have any man you choose. Pray tell me, what exactly are the requirements on your list when you go husband shopping?”

  “I’m sorry if it disappoints you, Mr Darcy but I have no list and only one requirement.”

  “Oh?”

  “The only thing I will really insist upon is an enduring love. The type that transcends time and distance, and survives misunderstandings. The kind that forgives and grows.”

  Darcy had been fully intending to deliver a measured, careful proposal but this response rendered him silent. When she at last looked up at him again, the corner of her bottom lip was caught between her teeth and Darcy lost all interest in speaking anyway. What did words matter when she was so close, when she smelt so sweet and her lovely imploring eyes were fixed on his? His hand rose to her lip and eased it free from her teeth with his thumb. Then he caught her chin in his palm, his fingers caressed her cheek and he drew her face towards him.

  Elizabeth knew she was about to be kissed but could not and did not want to stop him. She had waited too long for such a feeling, for such a man as him, such a love.

  When she had stayed with them in London, she had once seen Mr Turner kiss Jane, having walked in on them accidentally in the breakfast room as he was saying his goodbyes. Elizabeth had been embarrassed, but fascinated too, by the flushed, happy look on Jane’s face; the way she had leant up so readily towards her husband. It had entranced Elizabeth and she’d seen clearly the pleasure it brought, but while she had yearned to know what it would actually feel like, she had always avoided the fast men and dark corners which might bring about her own experience.

  When Mr Darcy’s lips at last claimed hers it was such an odd, yet lovely thing. The feeling of his firm mouth against hers and his sweet taste were both surprising. He smelt earthy and clean. The longer he kept his lips against hers, the less she thought about the strangeness of it and the more she was overcome by a fluttering, floating, headiness. Now, she knew what the fuss was about; all those novels, poetry and love songs were written for this; the beautiful, overpowering sensations a simple kiss - a touch of two sets of lips, could create. She was a willing, but passive recipient of his embrace and was just recovering from the shock to her senses; enough to wonder how one showed ones approval and kissed a man back, when he withdrew, far too quickly for her liking.

  “Elizabeth, I…”

  And then, seemingly distracted from what he had been about to say, he kissed her again, but it was quite unlike the first. Who knew two kisses from the same man could differ so much? Heavens, she had so much to learn! Now his lips moved across hers, ever deepening the contact, increasing its intensity. She felt his arm slide around her waist and then his hand at her back pulling her to him until she was flush against his chest. Although she perhaps knew there was a danger of discovery, the door, as far as she could remember, was still wide open, there was too much pleasure coursing through her veins for any kind of rational thought to dare intrude. She felt his kiss everywhere, right down to the toes she stood up on to press closer to him and yet, still she wanted more. She gripped the sleeve of his coat tightly with one hand, while the other was at his neck, wound in the dark, soft curls that rested there and she wondered at the strength of feeling that made her so bold. It went on and on, this kiss. Yet, they had to part eventually, both of them taking shaky, deep breaths, but she thought they would not have stopped at all, had not that all important requirement for life – air, intruded upon them.

  She saw Mr Darcy look towards the doorway, which was still thankfully empty, but he did not release his hold on her and when his eyes returned to her face, the pull proved irresistible. His mouth fell on her
s again with a raw hunger that made her gasp. He bestowed quick, soft kisses, lots of them in dizzying succession; they trailed across her mouth, then over her cheek and were working their way quickly down her neck, making her tremble violently – another new and shocking experience - when a loud cough caused them to jump apart in horror.

  Elizabeth’s gaze was determinedly fixed on the floor, her embarrassment too great to look and see by whom they had been caught. The owner of the cough thankfully turned out to be her aunt and she had never been so glad to hear Mrs Mountford’s voice. “Ah there you are, Elizabeth. I came to tell you the carriage is waiting. I don’t suppose you have seen Mr Darcy anywhere have you? I wanted to say goodnight. Perhaps he has gone downstairs already.”

  This was all said rather loudly for the benefit of those still in the drawing room. Elizabeth risked a glimpse up at him. He nodded towards the door and whispered. “You should go.”

  “Yes.” She replied, still breathless and then hurried after Mrs Mountford, while Darcy retreated back further into the semi-dark room.

  She composed herself enough to make it through the goodbyes to their hosts and the other guests and it was only when she was standing in the vestibule with Mrs Mountford, waiting for Jane and Mr Turner to catch them up, that she blushed anew wondering how much her aunt had seen.

  Mrs Mountford studied her and laughed, shaking her head. “Oh do not look so shamefaced, Elizabeth. You are four and twenty, it is about time you were kissed. So, may I presume everything is settled?”

  Elizabeth’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, we did not. I suppose…I am sure it is, well, no. Not entirely, yet...” Her brow furrowed and then she was crestfallen. “He did not ask me.”

  “Perhaps he was too busy,” her aunt replied with a smirk.

  This comment brought back the memory of his lips against hers. Lord above, how could she have once thought him cold! His passion had left her reeling, aching. His embrace had been warm and strong, exciting yet comforting. “I ought not to have allowed it, should I, not without an understanding between us?”

  “Oh, you looked as if you understood each other well enough from where I was standing. Do not fret, my lovely girl. He will be on our doorstep requesting a private audience with you tomorrow morning I am sure of it.”

  Twenty-seven

  The next morning brought a flurry of callers. Elizabeth saw each visit through with a determination to be at her most charming and affable. She poured tea and offered biscuits. She discussed the rain, the upcoming concerts and heard a great long story from a Mrs Shipton about a parcel she had been expecting from London. Elizabeth suspected the story took longer to tell than the parcel had done to travel but she was interested and polite and commiserated in all the expected places. She felt she could be calm and happy. She did not doubt Mr Darcy. Everything he had said and done the previous evening had more than hinted at a future together. He loved her as she did him, she felt sure of it. Such kisses could not lie.

  Eventually, Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam and Miss Darcy were announced. Elizabeth looked at the footman in confusion - he had forgotten a name surely.

  But it seemed he had not. Only the three people who had been announced entered the drawing room. Before the greetings had even been properly exchanged, she heard herself burst out. “Is Mr Darcy not with you?”

  “Oh, he is busy making his preparations to leave.” Lady Fitzwilliam replied.

  “Leave? Leave Bath?”

  “Why, yes, we all thought it was rather sudden but as soon as all our guests left last night, he declared his intention of leaving first thing in the morning. He has had his poor valet up packing half the night,” said Lady Fitzwilliam. “He is to leave within the hour, but you know...”

  On hearing these words, Elizabeth ran from the room and across the hall. She stopped for neither her bonnet or coat and she threw open the great front door as if it were no heavier than a feather, such was her determination. She was gone before anyone could even think to call out to her, or before Lady Fitzwilliam could finish her sentence.

  Lord Fitzwilliam blinked and stared and looked to Mrs Mountford for an explanation.

  “You’ll excuse her, Your Lordship. She is very fond of exercise.”

  Elizabeth ran the length of Laura Place and did not stop, dodging children, horses, carts and crowds of people who looked after her, mouths agape to see such a finely dressed young lady sprinting along the streets of Bath, as if being chased by the devil himself.

  She knew not what she was going to say when she found him, if she found him. Please God he had not yet left. But she was desperate to say something, even if it was only goodbye! What could possibly have happened to make him leave? Had he second thoughts? Had he merely got carried away with the moment? Did the cold light of the morning make him regret his kisses, his sweet words? Perhaps he still thought her beneath him, not worthy and had panicked – but she could not really believe this – she knew him better now. Yet what possible reason could there be behind this sudden departure? Her mind racing as fast as her feet, she flew over the cobbles and turned the corner into Milsom Street at great speed, only to be grabbed by a strong pair of arms and held against a broad chest, her cheek brushed against the fine material of his great coat. She knew it was him without looking up.

  “And where do you run to, my sweet imp?” His voice was tender and playful.

  “I was looking for you. I heard you were leaving.”

  “I am.” He took her hand and pulled her into the relative privacy of a nearby doorway.

  She turned her face up and saw his dimpled smile, his dark eyes intent on her. His head bent slowly and his lips drew near to hers, unmindful of the hour or their whereabouts.

  It was a herculean effort to put a hand on his chest and resist the lure of his kiss, but she managed to push him away. “Mr Darcy, this newfound habit of yours of kissing me. It is not that I find it unpleasant, quite the opposite in fact. But it is a right and liberty I thought I would be reserving for a fiancé or a husband.”

  “You are adorable.”

  He caught her arms and lowered his mouth again, managing to meet her lips properly this time. But once more, she pushed back at him. “I am sorry, sir, but I cannot ignore the fact you are going away.”

  “Of course.” He looked confused at her alarm. “I am on my way to Longbourn, to request permission from your father to set a date. What else am I to do?”

  “Oh.” She gasped in a great breath of surprise and then it left her body in a rush and she sank a little against him. “I see.”

  “My preparations were taking some time so I was behind my uncle and aunt. I was walking to Laura Place just now to take my leave. Did you think I would go without doing so?”

  She was pleased but also felt a little foolish. Of course he had not meant to abandon her. He was a man of honour. Then a thought occurred to her that made her furrow her brow, a tad offended and she stood up straighter.

  “You are applying to my father before me?”

  “Well, I did not…you see...I thought we understood each other.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “You did?”

  “Yes.”

  “Was there a proposal?”

  “My intentions must be obvious.”

  “But, do you not require my consent, sir?”

  “Yes, but you must see how I...Elizabeth, are you to end every sentence with a question?”

  “Well, I am sorry for my interrogation, but I think perhaps it is you who ought to be asking questions, or at least one particular question,” she replied. “For the purpose of making sure everything is abundantly clear.”

  “Are you cold, it is chilly this morning?”

  His hand was brushing along the bare skin of her upper arm in a manner that made it almost impossible for her to concentrate. She shook her head. “I am not in the least bit cold, I have just run a quarter mile. There is a matter, sir that awaits your attention.”

  He frowned. “Are you sure? You may rem
ember my last disastrous attempt propose to you.”

  “As I recall, Mr Darcy, it started well. It did unfortunately deteriorate. Maybe you ought to keep it short.”

  “Very well,” His distracting hand moved downwards and he took her hand. He was silent for a while then sighed. “See, now you have caught me unprepared. I know not how to begin even the shortest of speeches.”

  “If it helps, the element of the previous proposal I most enjoyed was when you told me how ardently you admired and loved me.”

  “Elizabeth.” He placed a soft kiss on her forehead. “My love then was nothing to what it is now. Back then I was infatuated, bewitched by you, but I did not understand the true nature of love; that it required me to come to you without prejudice, or pride, with my heart open and accepting of you, for all that you are. I have made mistakes before but I hope you can put your trust in me, for I love you above everything. I want you, Elizabeth Bennet as my wife, as the mistress of my home; you have long been the mistress of my heart and soul. Will you…”

  “I will,” she replied.

  “That was a touch precipitous, I had not finished. Did you perhaps become worried it was about to deteriorate?”

  She laughed and felt grateful for his jest, otherwise she might have succumbed to a girlish fit of emotional tears. “Pardon me, Mr Darcy.” She stroked the lapel of his greatcoat. “At least now you may be sure of the answer, though it seems you were already, but pray continue.”

  “I have only one thing left to say. Marry me, Elizabeth, please be my wife?”

  Elizabeth could do no more than nod. She threw her arms up around his neck and pressed her face against his throat. She placed a kiss there, just above his cravat, which made him hold her tighter.

  “I am so happy, I have never before felt so happy,” he whispered into her ear. “Would you object, if matters could be arranged, to a short engagement?”