by Jan Hahn
"I shudder to think what might have happened if you had not overheard the servants' gossip, Elizabeth," Mr. Darcy said.
"Yes, that was a most fortunate occurrence," Colonel Fitzwilliam added.
"I am so relieved that it is over," I said. "What will happen to them now?"
"An extended length of incarceration, I would venture," Richard said. "From what I know of judges, they do not look kindly upon riff-raff who attempt extortion upon gentlemen. Shall we have a glass of brandy in celebration?"
I took that as my cue to depart and bade them goodnight, but I confess my eyes lingered upon Mr. Darcy in particular. All the way to the doorway I could feel his eyes upon me, and glancing back over my shoulder, I was gratified to see it was not my imagination that produced those feelings.
Above stairs I found my maid had laid out my best gown and robe in obvious anticipation that I would wish to wear them to bed now that my husband had returned. I blushed at the thought, but allowed her to help me undress and let down my hair, brushing out my curls.
"Shall I plait it, Ma'am?" she asked.
"No, just leave it loose tonight, Sarah."
After she turned down the bed, I dismissed her and sat waiting before the fireplace, a nervous fluttering in the pit of my stomach. Would he come? And if he did, what should I anticipate? I rose and stirred the fire, although there was little need. I wandered to the mirror more than once, pulled my hair up off my neck and posed from side to side, then dropped it to curl about my shoulders. Yes, I mused, wearing my hair down is more flattering. I examined the possible beginnings of a blemish on my forehead, but determined it was nothing more than my imagination. At last, I picked up a novel and attempted to read, but the author seemed to have written utter nonsense, for I could not follow it. Several long sighs escaped before I could stop them and I walked back and forth to the inner door separating our chambers more times than I cared to count.
Where could he be? Perhaps he would not come after all. I had just reached the door once again and stood there staring at the handle when I heard a knock. I almost cried aloud and I did visibly jump. Willing myself to be calm, I took a deep breath and forced myself to wait several moments before I reached for the doorknob. It would not do to appear too eager.
There he stood, dressed in a dark, rich robe, his curls damp from obviously having just bathed, and so handsome I thought I could not bear it. I am sure my eyes must have been as large and round as moonbeams when I recognized the hungry expression about his eyes as they moved up and down my form. I do not know how long we stood thus, but to this day I can recall exactly how he looked and how every nerve in my body sprang alive with longing and yet fear of the unknown.
"May I come in, Elizabeth?" He smiled ever so slightly in that enticing way of his.
I nodded and swallowed. He took my hand and led me to the fireplace, whereupon he raised my fingers to his lips and kissed them with such tenderness I wanted to weep.
"You are very beautiful with your curls loose and flowing. Did you know that?"
"Yes," I said and then realized what I had just agreed to. "I mean no. I...I...oh, I do not know what I mean."
He smiled and, taking my other hand, kissed it as well, all the while gazing upon my flustered countenance. "You spoke correctly the first time. You are well aware that you are pretty and that the effect of your beauty is not wasted on me."
He sighed then, released my hands, and turned away. I felt the loss of his touch acutely, almost painfully; just in time I stopped myself from reaching out to him. He walked away, placing the sofa between us. "And in that robe you are disturbingly hard to resist...but I must." Confusion must have shown in my eyes, for he added, "It would be unfair of me to proceed any further this night."
"I...I do not understand, sir," I managed to say.
"I want you, Elizabeth. That is obvious. And the manner of your greeting tonight gave me hope that you may feel the same. Am I correct or have I misinterpreted your response once again?"
I blushed, not only at the fact that my desire for him was plain to see, but at the memory of how I had taken leave of him in London. "You have not," I murmured.
He swallowed and I could see how he struggled to maintain his composure. "There are things that exist between us, however, that need to be made straight before we come together as husband and wife - things of great importance, matters I would not lay aside for the mere heat of passion, only to have them separate us once passion is spent. Do you understand me, Elizabeth?"
I nodded slightly.
"It is far too late to begin such a discussion tonight. You can see that it is best for me to return to my chamber and you to remain here, can you not?"
With great reluctance, I nodded again.
"And do you agree?"
"Yes...except..."
"Except?"
"Except there is no lock upon the door between us and I...well, you know of my affliction."
He smiled broadly then, his dimples winking at me in the most exquisite manner. "And have you been affected by such since you have come to Pemberley?"
"Once."
"And did it cause you to climb into my bed?"
I shook my head.
"Then where?"
I blushed anew and cast my eyes upon the carpet. I hated to confess to him the insupportable destination of my last sleepwalking adventure.
"Elizabeth?" He covered the distance between us and joined me at the fireplace. Placing his hand upon my chin, he raised my face to meet his eyes. "Tell me."
"I awoke in the gallery, asleep on the floor...beneath your portrait."
The light in his eyes kindled anew and I saw him fight to keep himself from taking me into his arms, for I knew that what I said pleasured him and, in truth, did more than pleasure him. His voice came out deep and hoarse when he spoke.
"You cannot know what that means to me."
Taking my hands, he kissed the palm and inside of each wrist and then with a determined air, walked toward the door, where he turned one last time that night. "I must bid you good-night, Elizabeth, for although normally I consider myself a strong man, the hold you have over me tonight leaves me utterly weak."
Once the door closed behind him, I sighed deeply and sank down into a chair, for my knees had grown uncommonly wobbly. Little doubt existed in my mind as to which of us was the weakest. Was I relieved at his forbearance? Yes, somewhat, and yet another part of me wished that he had swept me off my feet and had his way with me, for I could still taste his fervent kisses when he had greeted me with unbridled emotion a few hours earlier. If kissing had thrilled me so, what greater pleasure must lie in store?
~ * ~
I did not walk in my sleep that night. Unfortunately.
I awoke in my own bed, quite alone and fairly late in the morning. I rang for Sarah and she aided me in putting on a pale yellow morning dress. While she fixed my hair, she mentioned that the servants' coach from London was to arrive that afternoon.
"Do you mean they did not come with Mr. Darcy last night?"
"No, Ma'am, Mrs. Reynolds said the Master rode horseback the entire way."
I did not know why that relieved me, but it did. Even though I felt certain there was nothing between Mr. Darcy and Fiona, my own diffidence wanted to hear it from his lips. That thought, naturally, led me to consider that he, in turn, would most likely demand an explanation from me as to why I had left him in such a cold manner in London. What could I say? I knew that he would be angry if I confessed my earlier suspicions and I was now quite ashamed of them, but on the other hand, he must take some of the blame. If he had been open with me and answered my questions about the maid and her child, I would never have given any credence to servants' gossip nor would I have suffered such anguish all these weeks. No, I resolved, he was as much to blame as I.
I fled the room as soon as the last pin left Sarah's hand and secured my bun. At that moment, I cared not whether my hair fell down around me. I wanted to see Mr. Darcy. Upon rea
ching the breakfast room, however, I hesitated, suddenly shy and wary of what I might encounter. I knew there was someone present, for I heard the sounds of a teacup placed on a saucer. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and summoned my courage before entering. My fears were groundless; there was no one to greet me except Georgiana.
"Good morning, Elizabeth. Did you sleep well?"
I nodded and seated myself, accepting the cup of coffee placed before me. I strove not to show my impatience or burning curiosity and forced my voice and actions to appear perfectly ordinary. "And where might the colonel and Mr. Darcy be off to this fine morning?" I asked.
"Wills was holed up with his steward for some time, but he has now joined Richard and they have gone shooting."
"Shooting," I murmured, as though it was the most natural thing in the world for my husband to do. Well, why not? Why should he do what I expected him to do? This was Mr. Darcy, after all. But how could he have greeted me with such passion last evening, danced with obvious abandonment and joy, appeared in my chamber clearly struggling to control his desire, and now avoid my presence? What enabled him to go about the day as if nothing had happened between us, while I was reduced to a puddle of confusion and nerves, wanting nothing more than to see him?
Whatever it might be, it served him well, for neither he nor the colonel showed their faces until late in the afternoon. By that time I had knotted my embroidery into a helpless tangle, read the opening page of a new novel at least fifteen times, paced the floor in the drawing room until I feared I would wear out the rug, and practiced the same sonata on the pianoforte repeatedly, missing the exact chords each time until Georgiana suggested that I rest my fingers (although I think she actually wished to rest her ears).
"Shall we not go for a long walk?" I finally suggested, rising from the piano stool. "I have been indoors far too long."
She readily agreed and donning our bonnets and buttoning our spencers, we had just walked across the great lawn to the path leading into the woods when we met Richard and William returning with the servants and dogs.
"We are just off for a long walk," Georgiana announced.
"A long walk?" Richard said. "Shall we join them, Darce?"
"Why not?"
They handed their guns to the servants and fell into step with us. Brother and sister soon walked ahead and the colonel and I were left to converse.
"Were you successful in your hunting?" I asked.
"A little. And have you recovered from last night's festivities?"
"A little." A very little, if I were entirely truthful.
We soon came to an opening in the trees and could see a still somewhat verdant meadow up ahead, rare for that late in the year. Georgiana pointed it out and she and her brother soon climbed the stile and were safely deposited upon the other side. The colonel indicated that I should go before him, but Mr. Darcy called out for him to come ahead, that he would help me across. He took my hand as I climbed the steps and I felt a quickening in the pit of my stomach when his hands went up around my waist and he lifted me down. He did not immediately release me even though I stood safely on the ground. Instead, he gazed into my eyes, his expression unreadable until I saw his eyes travel downward to my lips and then back again.
"Thank you," I murmured. We continued a short distance behind the others, but it was not long before they had far outdistanced us, whether it was due to their speed or our lack of, I could not say.
We said nothing to each other, but walked in perfect silence as though there were not at least fifty pertinent subjects waiting to be discussed between us. At last, I summoned my courage.
"Did you sleep well?"
He looked away, beginning to twist the ring he wore on his smallest finger. "No. I slept little, indeed."
"I am sorry."
"You should be."
"Sir?"
"I find that I can no longer sleep with just a wall and an unlocked door between us, Elizabeth. For now, I shall remove myself to another chamber farther away from yours."
I frowned. "Is that truly necessary?"
"For your sake, it is. I no longer trust myself to sleep so close to you, not until we have talked things out. I cannot bear another night of lying awake, every part of my senses listening in hopes that you will somehow find your way into my bed whether conscious or unconscious, and if you do, knowing that I shall be unable to restrain myself."
That familiar quickening in the pit of my stomach now grabbed me, almost causing me to gasp aloud. I looked away, unable to face him. We walked thus for some time, each of us in silence with so much to say hanging heavily between us. We reached the shade of a huge, spreading oak tree before he stopped.
"Elizabeth, I dare not push too hard, tread too quickly, for I recall our leave taking in London the morning after I first kissed you."
I closed my eyes and sighed deeply, wishing I could take back that awful morning and those terrible accusations I had imagined. "Oh, do not remind me of my actions then. I cannot think of them without abhorrence."
"I want an explanation, Elizabeth. I need to know why you seemed angry, why you never wrote to me. Had I offended you so greatly the night before?"
"No," I cried out immediately, "No, a thousand times no, William." I raised my hand to touch his cheek. "Your kiss did not offend me. Believe me, it never will."
I saw the light kindle in his eyes and relief significantly ease his countenance, as he drew me to him. Slowly and deliberately, he untied the ribbons to my bonnet and tossed it aside. With one hand upon my waist and the other holding the back of my head, he bent down, his dear face coming ever nearer and his mouth almost upon mine.
"Wills," Georgiana interrupted us. "Clouds are gathering and it looks like rain. Richard says we must return. Are you coming with us?"
Immediately, we both drew apart and I looked away as William attempted to answer her. The colonel, however (bless his heart!), quickly said, "Come on, Sprout. Can you not see that we are intruding?"
"Oh, Wills, Elizabeth, I am so sorry!"
We both said, "No, no, it is nothing," or something similarly inane, as they passed us by, heading back toward the house.
"I will escort Georgiana home, Darcy," the colonel said, trying his best not to laugh. "Carry on."
We watched their retreat until they could no longer be seen. Georgiana turned around to look at us at least once while Colonel Fitzwilliam took her by the shoulders and turned her back toward their goal.
"Should we return with them?" I asked, noting the dark clouds gathering.
Mr. Darcy shook his head. "First, we must talk and surely this is far enough away to afford us privacy." He took my hands in his, but I pulled away and took several steps from him.
"If we are truly to talk, William, then you must stand there and I over here, for I cannot think clearly when you are so near and...especially when you touch me."
He smiled and nodded. "Handsome and wise."
I blushed and felt my heart begin to beat erratically once again. "And you must not say things like that."
"Like what?"
"That I am handsome."
"Would you have me lie?" He cut his eyes at me in a way that threatened to reduce me to a helpless muddle.
"No, of course not. But you must not look at me in that manner, either."
"Shall I turn my back?"
"Perhaps." I acknowledged silently that from either side, his presence was handsome enough to tempt me. "Oh, I cannot set it right. I shall just not look at you!"
Neither of us said anything for a few moments and even though I did not face him, I could feel his eyes upon me, almost as caressing as his hands. I wondered how I would ever keep my wits about me when his mere presence filled me with longing. I began walking farther afield, but he would not let me go alone. "Are we truly to go for a long walk?" he asked.
"I think it is best to walk while we talk." How utterly stupid! I thought. Now I speak in rhymes. At this rate, I shall soon be reduced to spouting gibb
erish! Why does he have such effect on my senses?
We had reached the crest of a small hill by that time. It overlooked a tenant farmer's house below and I could see a woman hurriedly collect the wash from the clothesline, the wind whipping the sheets about. A young boy carried small stacks of firewood into the cottage and a babe toddled in and out the doorway. Old, petrified tree stumps remained directly at the spot where we stood, and I sat down to rest upon one of them. Mr. Darcy broke off a dried reed and swished it back and forth between the remaining stalks, an action he appeared to engage in with absence of mind.
"Shall you tell me now, Elizabeth?"
"Sir?"
"Why you never wrote since we have been apart. Am I correct to assume it has something to do with the manner of your leave taking from London?"
I looked away; my pulse began to race, and a flush covered my countenance. How could I reveal my hateful suspicions and yet, I knew there was no escape. I took a deep breath. "I did not write because I knew not how to say what I must...and because I knew that it would cause you distress. Before I walked downstairs that last morning, Fiona had just told me she was not to travel with us, that she was to remain in London with you and go to Pemberley when you did. This surprised me and, in truth, made me angry."
"But why?"
I raised my hand to silence him. "Let me continue, for if I do not say it all, I never shall. I thought...I feared the servants' gossip might possibly be true, that you loved her, that she was your mistress, and that Willie...might be your child."
He was deadly silent; the only sound his sharp intake of breath.
"The night before when you kissed me I had convinced myself I was wrong, that I should never have listened to such ugly talk, but when you kept her with you, all those old doubts swept over me and I allowed jealousy to cloud my thinking. I misjudged you as unworthy and Fiona along with you. I know now I was wrong, completely wrong. I learned that during the weeks we were apart. I now strongly suspect that Mr. Wickham is responsible for the birth of Willie, but my return to sanity does nothing to justify my prior thoughts."
