Chance Encounters

by Linda Wells

  He did not see that every time George Darcy looked at his son, it brought forth memories of the lost life with his wife, leaving him incapable of performing his duties. Darcy also did not know that his father had another terrible secret that he kept close to his heart, one that ate away at his soul and further destroyed their relationship. Fortunately for George Darcy, when his wife died, his son was at the proper age to be sent away to school, and for the intensely shy boy, it was a very lonely time.

  Darcy poured himself into excelling at school, and paid great attention to his duties as the future Master of Pemberley, anything to receive a bit of approval from his reticent father. He watched with frustration as the son of his father’s steward, George Wickham, effortlessly received the unending support and affection of George Darcy which he neither deserved nor had earned. Darcy truly did not know that his father loved him dearly or that the guilt that his father felt for his love tore him apart.

  A wheel stuck in a rut made the carriage suddenly jerk to the side, startling Darcy from his reverie. He shook his head and blinked, the scene outside of the carriage window was of fruit trees covered with the blossoms of spring. His yearly pilgrimage to Kent to spend yet another Easter with his cousin Richard at Rosings; always seemed to bring back the memories of that last spring with his father, nearly six years ago. He had by now come to the conclusion that his father had given him the assignment to design the planting for Pemberley that year to determine if his son had indeed learned enough to carry on after his demise.

  Enough of the past, you are driving towards your future. Watching the scenery go by, he reviewed the letter Bingley brought him the day before. Elizabeth’s note was short and to the point. She commanded him to make time pass faster so that she would see him sooner. He chuckled to himself; life with Elizabeth would be a joy.

  Turning his mind to other subjects, he thought of the conversation that he held with Bingley, and was relieved to learn of the talk he had with Jane Bennet. It seemed that even if Alex Carrington chose to visit her in Bingley’s absence, she was safe from him. She had all but told Bingley that her heart was his, if he knew himself well enough to ask for it.

  As the carriage turned into the gate to his aunt’s estate, he was full of anticipation. Darcy kicked his sleeping cousin’s leg.

  “Richard! Wake up, we have arrived!”

  He moaned, and began whining, “Five more minutes, Darcy, I need all of the rest that I can get to survive this visit.”

  Darcy prodded him with his foot, his lips twitching. “You have been resting for the past two hours, and your snoring has been less than entertaining. Now put yourself to rights before our beloved aunt descends to drag you out of the coach herself.”

  Richard chuckled, “She would, too.” He looked out the carriage window, “Darcy, look over here, who is that tiny man, and what on earth is he doing genuflecting to our carriage?”

  “I wonder if that can be Mr. Collins? He does seem to be a bit of an odd-looking character. Elizabeth’s description was correct.” Is this the man who dared offer marriage to my Elizabeth? Darcy stared at the small man and was struck once again by the extraordinary bravery Elizabeth displayed in refusing him. He would be forever grateful that she did.

  “I just hope that we do not have to spend too much time with him. If he is bowing to the carriage, imagine what he is like in person!” Richard laughed. “From what Miss Elizabeth has said, he is a toady of the highest order, just what Aunt Catherine would desire in a parson.”

  The carriage continued up the drive, passing through a grove of trees, one of the few parts of the estate allowed to stay in its relatively wild state. This was Darcy’s favourite area. It was full of boyhood memories of tree-climbing and imaginative adventures played with his then young cousin, Richard. The carriage came to an unexpected halt and upon lowering the window; they saw that a small tree had fallen across the road. The carriage driver and postillion jumped off to move it aside, and at that moment Darcy’s attention was suddenly drawn by a flash of colour in the grove. His heart started pumping wildly when he instantly recognized who it was.

  Elizabeth. Dressed in a simple yellow muslin gown, she had a bonnet slung over her arm and her dark hair was pulled up with yellow and green ribbons, reminding him of his first sight of her at the theatre. A few stray curls had escaped their pins and were bouncing along her neck and touching her shoulder. A book was open in her hands and she was paying no attention at all to the carriage in the road. It was a shout of success from the men moving the tree that caused her to finally look up. Her gaze travelled from the tree, to the carriage, to the face of the beaming young man in the carriage window. Their eyes locked. Astonishment registered on her face. It was William. The wait was over. Darcy threw open the carriage door and leapt out, landing in a crouch, and quickly straightened.

  “Where are you going?”

  “It is Elizabeth!” Darcy cried. “She is here, I must go to her! I cannot wait to see her!” He turned and anxiously searched for her.

  “Elizabeth,” Richard said, suddenly understanding. He looked at his thoroughly discomposed cousin and thought that he had never seen him in such a state. No, that is wrong. I have seen this before, at the theatre in February. Richard called, “Aunt Catherine will want to know where you are, what should I say?”

  “I do not care, tell her what you will.” Darcy looked up at the carriage driver and ordered him to walk on, and turned back to the grove. Where is she? He ran to the spot where he had last seen her, and started calling, “Elizabeth? Please, Lizzy, please, where are you?”

  Elizabeth saw Darcy jump from the carriage, and overwhelmed with emotion, she turned and ran from him, hiding behind an ancient oak tree. She peeked around the side, watching him frantically search for her. She finally calmed her breathing, and her wildly beating heart. Yes, it truly is William. She heard him pleading for her to come out, and then she heard the sound of her name fall from his lips. It was like magic, it sounded so natural, and it drew her out. She stepped from the shelter of the tree, almost directly behind him. “Here I am,” she softly called.

  Darcy spun around and found that he was standing face to face with the woman who had haunted his dreams and filled the lonely moments of his days for nearly two months. Breathing hard, his eyes drank in her lovely form, taking in every part of her from head to toe, finally rising to meet her gaze. He saw reflected in her eyes the same emotions that he was feeling, hope, joy, relief, and passion. But one other emotion was present, pain.

  He took a few steps forward, until they stood only inches apart, so close that he could feel her ragged breath on his neck as she gazed up at him. “Why did you run from me?” Darcy lifted his hand and tenderly caressed her face. “Elizabeth,” he breathed. She took a step closer and lifted a trembling hand to gently touch his cheek. He closed his eyes for a moment, and when he opened them, he saw that she was crying.

  Her voice breaking, she turned away. “How could you?”

  “What have I done?”

  “You are engaged to Anne de Bourgh. Your aunt spoke of nothing else last night. She crowed how you were to finalize the engagement during this visit and that you would be married this summer.” Facing him, her eyes full of hurt and anguish, she accused, “Papa was right about you! Why did you lead me on?”

  Darcy felt as if she had slapped his face. How could she possibly believe her father’s false pronouncements against him? Fighting through the storm of pain and anger that her accusation inspired, he realized exactly what she had said, and fixed her with a steady gaze, “I am NOT engaged to Anne. That is the fantasy of my aunt, but it has never been my or Anne’s wish. I am not in any way bound to her. My aunt had dreams of joining our estates, and has declared for years that we would marry. It should be obvious to her by now that it would never happen. She never said it directly to me, so I could not deny it to her face. It is all in her head. It is not the truth. I am so very sorry that my aunt’s words led you to doubt me or my intentio
ns in any way.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes flashed at him, “But I wrote to you of it. I told you of your aunt speaking about how your cousin would soon be married. Surely you knew that she referred to you? She must expect you to propose. I told you of this and you did not reassure me then. I could have been prepared to hear her talk. I could have been spared the anguish that I endured last night. Why William? Why did you not tell me? You could have told me before I left for Kent. You could have spoken of your aunt’s imagined plans for you. We could have laughed about it.” Her tears fell steadily, and she had to turn away.

  Darcy hung his head in shame. He had hurt the single most important person in his life for no reason. He reached out and touched her shoulder. He was gladded when she did not pull away, but she still would not look at him. “Elizabeth, I have no good answer for you. I did not think that Aunt Catherine would speak of such things in front of anyone who was not family. It shames me to know that she did. But the pain that you felt then and now makes my proud self rejoice. Do you see how terrible I am? I am happy that you suffered because it tells me that you might care for me the way that I care for you.” He gently turned her to face him.

  Taking a deep breath, he took Elizabeth’s hands in his and looked deeply into her eyes. “There is no possibility of me making a marriage of convenience to my cousin or any other woman when my heart belongs to you.” Elizabeth’s hope rose.

  He looked down at their entwined fingers, seeking strength from the union of their hands and returned his gaze to her teary eyes. “Elizabeth, I have imagined this so many times. I planned my words, our location, everything, but now I find that I cannot possibly let this moment pass without telling you how ardently I love you and how desperately I need you. I cannot bear to spend another day without knowing you are mine and I am yours. I want to give myself to you, all of me. I do not ever wish to be parted from your side again. My life is empty without you. Please, can you love me? Please say yes. Please complete me. Please end this lonely existence that I have endured for so very long. Please Elizabeth, will you grant my wish, will you give me the honour of your hand in marriage?”

  He appeared so vulnerable, and she knew that he had just laid his soul bare. She knew her answer weeks ago; when he first embraced her in the park, knowing then that he was the only man she could ever love. She lifted her hand to caress his brow, only to have it caught and held to his cheek.

  She smiled up at him, feeling his grip tighten with each new word. “You do not have to beg me to love you. I knew when you first took me in your arms. That very moment I knew that was where I belonged. I was home. I knew that I wanted to spend every night for the rest of my life listening to your heartbeat. You have filled the emptiness of my life in a way that I only dreamed could happen. You are the best man I have ever known and I want to care for you, and love you, and tease you, and vex you, and kiss you, everyday for the rest of our lives. Yes William, I am honoured to give you my hand. I am overjoyed to call you mine!”

  “My Elizabeth,” he whispered, his voice shaking. His eyes bore into hers and then his gaze lowered to her lips. Her eyes followed the same path. They stood transfixed and slowly he raised his right hand and placed it gently under her chin, tipping it upwards, while she laid her hands on his chest. His left hand moved behind her head, and he lowered his mouth to hers. She closed her eyes and felt the growing warmth as the whisper of his breath sent a tingle of anticipation throughout her body. The first touch of his lips was feather-light and they both shivered. It was exactly as he had imagined it countless times, the dream, the fantasy of that first hesitant, tender, shattering touch of their lips. Trembling, he increased the pressure and stroked again and again. His right hand moved down her shoulder and to the small of her back, pulling her possessively against him. Elizabeth soon learned how to respond to his touch, and when she felt the trace of his tongue, she parted her lips and welcomed his entry. Their tongues met tentatively, tasting each other for the first time. Darcy held her tightly, and Elizabeth wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her body to his. He groaned softly and pulled his mouth from hers, and brushed his lips gently over her cheeks, and down her neck, his warm breath creating the sensation of a thousand fingers dancing over her body.

  Gliding his tongue beneath her ear he revelled in her gasp and low moan. “Oh how I love you!” He whispered, the warmth tickling her ear.

  “William,” She breathed. She opened her eyes to see his were closed, his dark lashes heightening the intense expression of bliss upon his face. They opened and gazed into hers, holding them, and he kissed her while moving his hands to stroke her back. Finally they drew apart, resting their foreheads together; eyes closed; arms around each other’s waists. A sigh passed between them. They held each other, enveloped in relief and in their newly-realized joy.

  Eventually, Darcy pulled away and looked down at Elizabeth. He took a steadying breath and spoke quietly. “I will of course ask your father for consent, but he was so against our courtship, I fear that he will not welcome my request. In six days, however, you will be of age; we will not require his consent to marry.”

  Elizabeth regarded him seriously. “We will need to procure a special license, regardless.”

  Smiling, he bit his lip and looked down while saying softly, “I already have one.”

  “What do you mean?” She demanded.

  He looked back up into her insistent gaze. “I applied for one before I left London.”

  “You were feeling very confident, sir.” She said, tilting her head.

  Darcy’s smile broadened. “I knew what I wished for.”

  “Arrogant!”

  “Determined.” He corrected.

  “Conceited.” She shot back.

  “Hopeful.” He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist.

  “Selfish.” She murmured, softening.

  “In love.” He whispered, drawing her against him.

  “Oh.” She rested her head against his chest.

  “Marry me.” He whispered into her ear.

  “Yes.” She whispered back.

  Cupping her face with his hands, his lips met hers, softly stroking, over and over. His tongue again slipped into her mouth and gently touched hers. He slid his hands down her body and held her securely. Their mouths and tongues danced together, leaving them breathless and anticipating so much more. Finally drawing apart, Darcy ran his hands up and down her back, and he smiled into her slightly glazed eyes. “I love you Elizabeth. I cannot wait to give myself to you and bring you home.”

  “I love you William, I know that I have no home without you.”

  “I love hearing you say my name.” He kissed her nose and she ran her fingers through his hair and stood on her toes to kiss his chin. Darcy laughed.

  “What should we do now?”

  “We could ask your cousin to marry us?” He suggested with a grin.

  Elizabeth looked at him sceptically. “Although I share your suspicions that my father will not be happy with our engagement, I think that we should at least give him the benefit of the doubt and allow him the chance to say yes.”

  Darcy sighed, but agreed. “Yes, I suppose for the sake of family harmony, we should approach him. But remember, you will be of age, and his consent is not needed. We will marry,” he promised, and looking from her eyes to her mouth, his lips captured hers, “as soon as possible.” Finally moving apart to draw breath, Darcy hugged her tightly. “As much as I truly hate to say this, I think that I must go to the house. If I do not make an appearance soon, my aunt will be sending a party to search me out and drag me to her presence.”

  “Having met her, I have no doubt of that.” Elizabeth said dryly.

  “When may I see you again?” His soft brown eyes begged.

  “I have been walking the paths of Rosings every morning.” She smiled and stroked his cheek.

  “Perfect!” He displayed his dazzling dimpled smile and began speaking as the confident man in charge. “I usually ride every
morning, but now I will walk. Where and when shall we meet? I should have you know that we must keep this from my aunt’s knowledge. As you became painfully aware, she is determined to have me marry Anne, and will not tolerate you getting in the way. She would certainly be difficult if she found out about us, and may make things difficult for your cousin as he is your host. He is dependent on her good will.”

  “Oh, is nothing ever simple?” Elizabeth bit her lip and sighed. “I will meet you at seven o’clock right here. It is not far from the gate to the parsonage, and it seems fairly secluded.” Darcy covered her face with kisses, and with an enormous effort, let go.

  Taking her hands in his he smiled into her sparkling hazel eyes. “Good evening, my Elizabeth. I love you.” Smiling joyfully she gave his fingers a squeeze and rose up on her toes to bestow another peck on his chin.

  “Good evening, my William. I am yours.” Darcy laughed then watched her until she reached the gate to the parsonage. He took a deep breath, and turned his steps to Rosings.

  Chapter 14

  The sound of Darcy’s boots echoed as he strode confidently into Rosings. He was ecstatic, and proud. He had just received the greatest honour of his life. The woman he loved had granted him permission to love her back. Forever. Nothing could dampen his happiness. Not even the strident, demanding tones of his aunt renting the otherwise deadened air of the household.

  “Is that my nephew? Where has he been? Tell him to attend me at once!” Lady Catherine shrilled.

  Darcy was hoping that he would be able to escape upstairs before greeting his aunt, but he knew that was very unlikely. She was ever vigilant. He sighed, and with great effort, he toned down his joyful expression to assume his usual sombre mask, and redirected his steps to his aunt’s sitting room.

  “Good afternoon, Aunt Catherine. Please forgive my delay.” He bowed low to her and kissed the bejewelled fingers of her proffered hand.