by Ola Wegner
Elizabeth. He would see her soon, talk with her, touch her. He hastened his pace. He had never thought that such an occurrence could happen to him, that he would fall for any woman so deeply. One her smile directed at him, one glance at her comely figure and a sort of balmy feeling instantly overpowered him. He felt content, peaceful and perfectly happy simply being in the same room with her. He lived for the next time he would see her. He had been alone as his own Master for so long, but not anymore. He was a true fool in love. It was like an addiction, an illness which had afflicted him.
He reached the parsonage from the back gate, sincerely hoping not to meet Collins working in the garden. Thankfully, there was no sign of the parson, and the cottage seemed very quiet. As he darted his eyes to the façade of the building, his heart squeezed pleasantly at the sight of Elizabeth seated in an upstairs window, reading.
The back door stood wide open, and he entered, passing by the kitchen and the pantry. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Mrs. Collins talking with the cook. They did not see him, so, undisturbed, he reached the staircase. Once upstairs, he counted the doors, trying to guess which one belonged to Elizabeth’s room.
To his relief, his estimation proved to be correct, and when he knocked lightly at the white, wooden surface, her sweet voice was heard. “Enter.”
As he had expected, she was seated on the cushioned window seat ledge, her small, stocking clad feet resting neatly in front of her.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered, her eyes widening at the sight. “What are you doing here?”
He closed the door. God, she was lovely. Her hair was only partially pinned up, and the cascade of rich chocolate curls was falling gracefully down her shoulders and back. Never before had he seen her so domestic, so intimate in her appearance.
With grace, she lifted herself from her place, her feet looking for pale green house slippers abandoned nearby.
He could not stop himself. He had to put his hands on her as he walked closer.
“I did not expect you today, sir,” she said, as he toyed with a lock of her hair.
He stared at her mouth, distracted.“You did not.”
She shook her head. “You did not go to Herefordshire?”
“I did. I talked with your father yesterday afternoon.”
“You returned so soon?”
He smiled down at her. “I told you that I wanted to be back with you as soon as possible.”
She allowed their eyes to meet at last, only to cast them down again. “Let us go downstairs,” she tried to walk past him but he caught her hand, stopping her.
He shook his head.
“You should not be here, sir,” she said nervously, her colour high.“Let us go to the parlour. We shall have some tea with Charlotte.”
“No, please. Let us stay here.” He pulled her to him, draping an arm around her back “Nobody saw me coming here. I want some privacy.”
She stiffened and her eyes widened. Was she afraid of him? “It is not proper for you to be here, in my room,” she said.
“Come,” he whispered.
He sat in the only armchair present in the small room and, without a word of warning, pulled her onto his lap.
“Mr. Darcy!”she gasped, trying to lift herself.
“Do you have to be so formal with me, Elizabeth?” he tightened his embrace around her, ignoring her struggles to free herself. “Could you call me by my given name?”
When she did not do what he asked for immediately, he prompted. “It is Fitzwilliam.”
She glared at him, slightly offended. “I do remember. It’s a rather unusual first name, I dare say, being your cousin’s surname.”
“Yes, it was my mother’s idea, I guess. She always shortened it, however, and called me ‘William.’”
He noticed that as she slowly relaxed in his arms, she was less tense and allowed her back to rest against his chest.
He took one wisp of dark hair, straightened it and then let it curl naturally around his finger. His gaze rested on the simple garnet cross placed in the dip of her throat, then lowered to the swell of her bosom, uncovered by the rather daring cut of her dress. She had a small dark mole on the left breast, visible just above the lace of her bodice. He swallowed and his manhood hardened. How would he able to survive those long months of courtship without even a small gratification.
She was affected, too, by their proximity, he realised. Her breasts started to heave, her lovely face flushed pink. It was so easy to reach for her lips, kiss and caress her. But he had promised her that he would try to restrain himself. He needed to control his urges. She deserved better.
He took her small hand and lifted it to his lips. “You did not want to know what your father said?” he asked as he nudged her off his lap and stood up.
She nodded. “I do. Of course, I do.”
Darcy walked away from her, raking his hand through his hair. “He agreed to a courtship only. He wants to speak with you first before giving his consent to the marriage.”
“I see.”
“Perhaps you could try to convince him that the courting period is not necessary in our case?” he asked with hope.
She was silent for a moment. “In your opinion, I do not deserve to be courted in front of my family and friends?”she asked with the edge to her voice, not looking at him.
“No, of course not.” He stepped to her again, catching her eyes. “You deserve everything, all the best in the world, but I had hoped that we could be together sooner.”
She looked to the side. “We will spend a lot of time together during the courtship.”
“I meant to spend time together as a man and a wife,” he stroked her cheek, “Days and nights together,” he whispered.
She blushed, as he pronounced the word nights. “I must be honest. I do not think I am ready for this. I am relieved with my father’s condition.”
There was a pause. “We shall do as you wish then,” he agreed. “I want you to be happy, content. We shall wait to be married.”
“Thank you..., William.”
He did not like that her voice sounded so relieved, so he added more firmly. “I still want to be married before the end of the year.”
She nodded only, standing in front of him, her eyes downcast, her whole posture uninviting, distant.
“When do you plan to return home?” he asked, stepping very close to her, so their bodies almost touched, making her look at him.
She looked up. “The beginning of next week. My uncle will send a man servant for Miss Lucas and me. We will travel by post to London in his company.”
Darcy scowled. “I do not like that idea,” he announced. “It is highly improper for a young gentle woman to travel by post with common strangers.”
“It is but a few hours journey to London. I shall be fine,” she answered calmly, stepping from him.
“I want you and Miss Lucas to travel in my carriage,” he spoke in commanding tone, he often used with Georgiana. “I will escort you to your uncle’s home.”
“I cannot do that!” she protested. “You know very well that would not be proper.”
“You think that travelling with strangers is proper?” he cried, exasperated.
Elizabeth pressed her lips into a thin line. “I will not go to London alone with you in a carriage. My reputation would be ruined; you know it very well.”
“Elizabeth, be reasonable, we are about to be married, surely before the end of the year. You will travel with me in a carriage all your future life. Besides, Miss Lucas will be there, too and the manservant from your uncle that you mentioned. I may even go in another carriage after yours.”
Elizabeth lifted her chin up. “I will go by post as was planned before.”
“I cannot agree to that. I will not allow it!” he snapped.
She squared her shoulders. “You are not my husband yet, sir. To be precise, you are not even my betrothed. You are not my father or uncle to decide about me, and if they think that I can safely travel
by post with Miss Lucas, I do not see the reason to do otherwise!”
“Do you not understand that I am worried for you! Something may happen to you!” He hovered over her. “Why are you so obstinate about this?”
She raised one finely drawn eyebrow. “I can ask you exactly the same question.”
Darcy walked from her, pacing the restricted space of the small room. Why was she so stubborn? He was not used to such behaviour. His sister, Georgiana, would never have wanted to oppose him in such a way. He only wanted the very best for her. It was his right, his responsibility. He wanted her safe and protected. What was wrong with that? Why could she not see that?
He strived to calm himself. “Well, then,...would you consider using one of my aunt’s carriages?”
“I am not sure whether Lady Catherine will be willing to...”
“She will,” he interrupted her. “I will take care of that.”
“As you wish,” she said quietly after a moment.
He smiled, pleased that she had agreed with him. He walked to her. “I will go now.”
“Yes, you must be tired after the long journey.”
He took her hand. “We shall see each other tomorrow.”
She shook her head. “No, yet today. Your aunt invited us to dinner.”
He leaned into her, and whispered in low, soft voice. It was so natural to use such tones when speaking to her. “Then I will have the pleasure of seeing you again tonight.”
“Yes.”
He wanted to say something more, touch her again, but her expression did not invite that. She had withdrawn into herself and did not look at him. He walked to the door and, with a final glance at her, left the room.
He had not imagined it like that. He had always thought her to be more responsive.
“I must be patient with her,” he whispered.
Chapter Five
Elizabeth did not go for a walk that day, as she preferred to stay in her room. She could not concentrate on reading, or on anything else. Her father had offered her a safe escape, a rescue from the situation she had put herself in. She was grateful for that, but she did not know whether she would use it.
She was torn; she was afraid. Was she ruining her life or attempting to make it better? The more she thought about her situation, about her decision, the more undecided and confused she was. The only bright point that she had no doubts about was Jane. She wanted to help her sister, and now it was in her power.
She could not forget about what had induced her to accept Mr. Darcy’s proposal in the first place. The fate of Parker sisters was the last thing she desired. The life of humiliation and loneliness, as a governess, or a mistress of some wealthy man, was something she wanted to avoid not only for herself, but for her sisters as well. She felt depressed merely thinking of it. Mr. Darcy was her only chance to rescue herself. Who could guarantee her that another man of means would come her way in the future?
As Mrs. Darcy, she would have social standing and respect; the distress and humiliation would certainly accompany her existence daily, but at least she would have her own family, surely children. Mr. Darcy would make sure to visit her bedchamber often enough to have his heir. She would have someone to love. Perhaps she would have more than one child.
At least Jane would be happy. With their new connections to Mr. Darcy, Mr. Bingley, as his best friend, would reappear in their lives. Jane would be given another chance with Mr. Bingley - a chance for true happiness and a true love match.
Her father gave her time to think, to change her mind, but was it wise? After all, she had decided to marry him. A long courtship would only fuel her doubts, weaken her resolve. Perhaps it was more prudent to tell her father that she was ready to accept Mr. Darcy's offer, to announce a formal engagement and set a wedding before the summer.
A soft knock at the door drew her attention back to the present moment.
“Elizabeth?” Charlotte appeared in the open door. “May I come in?”
“Of course.” Elizabeth smiled, noting that her friend had her second best evening dress on.
“We are invited to dine with Lady Catherine's tonight. Have you forgotten?” Mrs. Collins enquired.
“Yes, I have forgotten, but only for a moment.”
Charlotte sat next to her on the narrow bed. “Have you developed a headache again? Do you wish to stay at home?” she examined her friend’s pale face. “I am worried. It is so unlike you to feel unwell so often.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not feel unwell. I am truly well. I only worry about Mr. Darcy. I cannot stop thinking about it, back and forth, wondering whether it was a good decision.”
Charlotte touched her hand reassuringly. “You did well. You will have your own home, security, and, one day, children.”
Elizabeth nodded. “Yes, I know; but it does not feel right. I feel guilty. Mr. Darcy, despite his faults, seems to love me. He acts like a man in love, and he thinks I love him too. I am deceiving him, which is unfair.”
“You think about it too much.” Charlotte patted her hand. “Do not worry so much about Mr. Darcy. He is his own man; he knows what he wants and gets it. I will risk saying that he knows you better than you think and is aware of your true feelings for him. All will be well.”
Elizabeth lifted and dropped her shoulders. “At least he knows.“ She stood up from the bed. “Give me a quarter of an hour, and I shall be ready for the evening.”
Charlotte stood up as well, smoothing the bed. “Good, because Mr. Collins dislikes when we are not exactly on time.”
“I have noticed,” Elizabeth murmured dryly as she walked to her friend, looking into her face. “You are truly glowing today.”
“It is because...,” Charlotte’s pale eyes sparkled. “I have been to the village to visit a midwife,” she paused, “and she confirmed my suspicions.”
“A baby?” Elizabeth whispered, a big smile appearing on her face.
Charlotte nodded.
“That is so wonderful! I am so happy for you! Have you told Mr. Collins?”
Charlotte shook her head. “No, and I want to keep the news to myself as long as possible. You are the first and the only person to know for the time being.”
“Your secret is safe with me.”
Charlotte squeezed her hands. “Oh, Elizabeth. I will have someone to love.”
Elizabeth gave her a hug and whispered. “Yes, you will.”
***
For the evening, Elizabeth donned her favourite, and in her opinion, her most flattering gown she had brought with herself to Kent, a very fine pale yellow muslin, with a green front that matched her dark green eyes. She put special effort into arranging her hair as well, with the help of Charlotte, pulling her curls tightly at the top of her head, leaving a few loose locks falling back on her neck. She thought this coiffure a bit extravagant, so unlike her usual, simpler style, but Charlotte convinced her that it suited her very well, making her eyes look even bigger and wider, and revealing her high forehead.
Lady Catherine welcomed them as usual and acted her usual self in the course of the evening, speaking nonsense, remarking on every subject, interfering and giving her advice, requested or not. Elizabeth preferred to be silent for most of the time. She felt Mr. Darcy’s eyes on her constantly, but she refused to look back at him.
“Miss Bennet!”
Lady Catherine’s sharp voice rang in her ears when they were taking tea after dinner. “I hear that you and Miss Lucas intend to travel by post.”
“Yes, your ladyship.” Elizabeth confirmed.
“I cannot allow that. You have been under my care for nearly two months. I cannot allow you to go alone with common strangers. You will go in one of my carriages.”
Elizabeth lifted her eyes and saw Darcy’s piercing gaze on her. He had obviously had no trouble with convincing his aunt to his ideas. “Thank you, your ladyship.” she said quietly, “It is very kind of you.”
The lady narrowed her eyes at Elizabeth and spoke. “You are
unusually quiet, Miss Bennet. But this is not surprising; you are leaving in a few days, which must be very disappointing to you.”
Mr. Collins, as was expected, began to praise Lady Catherine’s thoughtfulness, angelic heart and her unmistakable sense of propriety, ending his paeans by mentioning the excellent state of the stables. As the company was engaged in a discussion over the grandness of Rosings’ carriages and horses, Elizabeth stood up and walked to the window to look into the garden, which was nearly black, due to the late hour and moonless night, with no shapes visible.
“I think my aunt is right, Miss Bennet.”
She looked up to see Colonel Fitzwilliam standing by her side.
She turned to him with a polite expression. “She is?”
“Yes, you are not yourself tonight; indeed, you are very quiet.”
“There are matters which have occupied my mind of late, but they are not good material for a drawing room conversation, I am afraid.” she explained apologetically.
The colonel looked into her eyes, his expression one of sincere care. “I hope it is nothing very upsetting.”
Elizabeth smiled at him. “I am very happy that I will see my family soon, my sister Jane especially. We have not seen each other since January.”
“You are close, you and your sister.”
“Very. Jane is the eldest, and I am the second daughter. We have three other younger sisters, but though I care for other girls and love them, only Jane is my true confidant and friend.”
Mr. Darcy walked to them then, putting an end to their conversation. Soon Colonel Fitzwilliam returned to his place near Lady Catherine, and they were left alone.
“What have you been talking about with my cousin?” he asked with an unpleasant scowl on his face, deforming his handsome features. Was she to watch this charming expression for the rest of her life?
“I think he was concerned about my low spirits tonight.”
Darcy stepped closer and blocked her view of the room. “He is a second son; he cannot marry as he wishes, Elizabeth.”
