by Jane Hunter
“You have been asleep for two days,” Felicity whispered. “Doctor Fairleigh said it was the shock of the cold water… you very nearly drowned, Lizzy. If Mr. Darcy had not been there—”
“Yes, of course,” Elizabeth said flatly.
“He will want to know that you are awake,” Felicity said. She squeezed Elizabeth’s fingers once more and moved to stand up from her seat on the bed.
“Where are you going?” Elizabeth asked.
“To tell Mr. Darcy that you are awake, as I said I would.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “No, no, I will not see him.”
Felicity’s eyes widened. “Lizzy, truly? He is waiting in the hallway…”
“No,” Elizabeth repeated.
“Lizzy you must,” Felicity said. “The gentleman has been waiting. He is very concerned about you.”
Elizabeth pressed her hand against her cheek and felt how hot her skin was under her palm. Felicity pulled her hand from Elizabeth’s and went to the chamber door. She opened it a fraction and leaned out into the hallway. Elizabeth shifted again, suddenly nervous. She did not want to speak to Mr. Darcy.
This was not how she wanted to confront him.
He had saved her life; rescued her from the ocean. Jane would scold her for being unnecessarily cruel. She owed the gentleman thanks. He had rescued her. She could not deny him that. The fact that he had visited—waited for her to wake from her shock. Surely that must mean something. But would it matter when he left Grenleigh? Would anything matter once they had left Scotland behind?
“Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard and pulled the coverlet up higher. She was wearing a nightdress, but was hardly in proper attire to be seen by anyone—especially not by a gentleman. A gentleman who was engaged to be married to another woman.
“Go in, Mr. Darcy,” Felicity said from the hallway. “She is awake now and quite well. I will send for the doctor.”
Elizabeth was about to protest when Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy stepped into the room. He held his hat in his hands and his expression was a mixture of pain and concern, and Elizabeth could not deny that her heart began to beat faster at the mere sight of him.
He laid his hat upon the vanity and walked quickly to the side of the bed. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, his eyes never leaving her face. “Elizabeth,” he said softly, “you are still so pale.”
“Mr. Darcy,” she choked out. “I assure you that I am quite well.”
“When I pulled you from the water, I—”
“Yes,” she interrupted him. “I thank you for coming to my rescue, it was quite lucky that you were there.” At that moment she remembered that she had heard a voice calling her name just as she slipped. It must have been him. If he had not called out and startled her, would she have slipped?
“I saw you on the rocks,” he said and then his eyes hardened just a little. “I wanted to speak to you,” he said. “You have been avoiding me since— It was lucky that I was walking nearby, else you might have been lost to the waves.”
Elizabeth shifted uncomfortably and tugged at the coverlet. She could hear the worry in his voice and felt exposed under the intensity of his gaze, but she could not escape him this time. “I did not think you would notice,” she said stiffly. If he was going to force her to have this conversation, she would say everything that was on her mind. “Lacy Percival tells me that I should be offering my congratulations to you,” she said.
Mr. Darcy looked confused for only a moment. “Congratulations? What would Lady Percival have to say that would require such a sentiment?”
“Your engagement,” Elizabeth said shortly. “I trust that you have chosen a wonderfully accomplished young lady from a good family in possession of a healthy annual income.” Elizabeth could not help the way her voice shook as she spoke. She had thought about this extensively, but to say the words aloud gave them a different power. Each word stabbed her in the heart with a sharp blade. “What could you have to say to me that you should be saying to this young lady instead?”
“I confess that I am defenceless,” Mr. Darcy said. His words were equally choked and Elizabeth could not decide what that could mean. Was he angry at being caught? Was he upset with her? Only a few months ago, the possibility of displeasing Mr. Darcy would have upset her greatly. But now she stared back at him angrily, daring him to say more, to tell her the truth before she asked it of him.
“I overheard you speaking to another of Sir George’s guests about your engagement,” she said. “Did you truly believe that I would not discover the truth? Did you believe that I would allow you to use me—”
In an instant, Mr. Darcy was seated on the bed beside her and he had taken her face in his hands. Elizabeth struggled weakly against him, but she was so tired, and it was impossible for her not to feel relieved that he was there, and that his touch was a comfort to her. But she could not feel this way. She tried to turn her face away, but he held her firmly.
“Elizabeth Bennet, I swear to you upon my life that I am engaged to no one, for you have not yet agreed to be my wife.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “But I heard—”
Mr. Darcy chuckled softly. “I was speaking to Mr. Travis about a salon that Georgiana will be hosting at Pemberley. I had hoped that you would accept an invitation.”
“There is no engagement?” Elizabeth choked out.
Mr. Darcy shook his head. “No, indeed,” he replied gently.
No engagement. No prior promises.
No Ann de Bourgh.
Just him. And her.
“Elizabeth, if you were misled by anyone, I do apologize for it. Will you forgive me for waiting so long to speak to you?”
Elizabeth blinked quickly, desperate to keep her tears at bay. It was too much to bear, the realization too overwhelming. Lady Percival had lied to her, knowing that she would be hurt by those words. She fought her impulse to be angry and smiled at the gentleman who held her so gently. “Yes,” she whispered.
His kiss was sweet and gentle, full of apologies and promises, and Elizabeth forgot that they were alone in her bedchamber with only the coverlet and her nightdress between his hands and her naked flesh.
Elizabeth wound her arms around Mr. Darcy’s neck and pulled him closer as her mouth opened under his. Her motion was the only encouragement that Mr. Darcy required and Elizabeth felt the change in the pressure of his mouth upon hers. His tongue darted between her lips and his hands moved down her body.
He pulled his mouth away from hers with a groan and reached into his jacket. His hand shook as he held up a letter. “What is that?” Elizabeth whispered.
Mr. Darcy smiled. “A very important letter,” he replied. He leaned back and unfolded it clumsily. “I do then request, Mr. Darcy, that you come at once to Longbourn to make your request in person.”
“Longbourn?” Elizabeth said haltingly.
“Your Papa has requested my presence,” he said with a smile.
“Why would he make such a demand?” Elizabeth asked. Confusion clouded her thoughts, but she could not hope that such a thing was possible.
“I have written to your father to ask for his permission to make you my wife,” he said. “All that remains is for you to give your own consent in this matter.”
“Oh,” Elizabeth could hear how small and strange her voice sounded, as though it did not belong to her. He had done it. He had written to her father… the engagement—Lady Percival had been correct in one manner of speaking, but Elizabeth felt certain that the other woman would not be pleased that her false prediction had come true.
“I confess that this is not how I had imagined you would respond,” Mr. Darcy said with a smile.
“I—I do not know what to say,” Elizabeth gasped.
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, will you accept one last proposal?” Mr. Darcy asked.
“I will. Oh, William—”
Mr. Darcy’s hands were in her hair and his lips were gentle and possessive upon hers. She moaned against his mou
th and pressed closer, rubbing her hands up over his chest and shoulders, thrilling as he groaned deep in his throat at her touch. His hand tightened in her hair, making her gasp, and she did not pull away when he pushed aside the coverlet with his free hand. Those same fingers then found the ribbon that held the neckline of her nightdress closed and Elizabeth moaned again as he worked quickly to untie it.
Before Elizabeth could assist him, her nightdress was only a piece of crumpled material that was pulled over her head and tossed onto the hardwood floor. Mr. Darcy pulled away long enough to divest himself of his jacket, vest, and linen shirt, and then he was pressed against her once more.
His mouth was hot upon her neck and at the swell of her breasts, and Elizabeth gasped as his hands roamed freely over her burning skin.
Mr. Darcy pulled her gently beneath him on the bed. Elizabeth lay under Mr. Darcy’s dark gaze, worried that what he saw displeased him, but the expression in those eyes was nothing short of adoration and ardent desire, and Elizabeth felt the same warmth she had felt in the heather begin to grow once more in her belly.
Eager to feel him inside her once more, Elizabeth reached for him, pulling him down and offering up her mouth to him. He kissed her gently as his hands trailed over her body, setting her skin alight with sensation and warmth.
He pulled his lips away from hers and began to sear a hot trail down her neck. “I love you, Elizabeth,” he said the words against her collarbone, and she felt her stomach twist again.
“I love you, William,” she replied.
He pressed his lips to hers once more and she sighed, opening to him. He kissed her deeply, his tongue delving in to tangle with hers. He moved slowly, dragging his hands over her arms, down to her fingertips before threading them together. Elizabeth slid a leg up around his hips and he groaned into her mouth. She could tell that he was resisting the urge to press his hardness against her, but she knew that he was aching for her and she felt a shameful, hunger for what was concealed.
Instead of giving her what she wanted, Mr. Darcy moved his hands over her breasts and palmed them, spreading his fingers to encompass them. His thumbs moved over the taut peaks and he watched them pucker tighter under his touch. Elizabeth gasped and closed her eyes; her head tilted back as Mr. Darcy leaned down and used his hand to guide one pert nipple into his mouth. Elizabeth gasped again and he moaned against her flesh as his tongue skimmed over the hard nub, his hand holding the weight of her breast. Just when she thought she had reached the peak of her desire, he switched to the other side, his mouth greedily sucking in and laving over her flesh.
When she thought she could bear no more, Mr. Darcy finally gave in to her wordless pleading and proceeded to kiss down her body, his lips touching every inch of her exposed flesh. Elizabeth was breathless with pleasure, her body barely able to recognize each touch, kiss and caress as they blended into each other.
“Elizabeth, will you be mine forever?” The question was said between kisses, and Elizabeth barely heard him over the rushing of the blood in her veins and the pounding of her heart.
“Yes,” she gasped. There had never been any other answer. She knew now that she had never wanted anyone but him to touch her this way.
He glanced up at her, his eyes full of need, and then he disappeared between her thighs.
“Oh!” Elizabeth gasped as she felt Mr. Darcy’s hot mouth seal over her secret wetness and tease at her silken folds with his tongue. The sweet heat was building inside her burned hotter with every touch of his fingers and tongue, and Elizabeth’s head spun and her words faded away.
His fingers were gentle on her thighs, but Mr. Darcy’s mouth was fast and insistent, and she could feel the pleasure tightening and building inside her as it had out in the chill air in the field of heather beyond the garden gate. She could never have imagined that it could feel like this to be with the man she loved... he was hers, and she was his... and it would always be like this between them.
She cried out as his fingers moved gently inside her, and she lifted her hips to encourage him to delve deeper into her velvet softness, to drive her higher in pleasure before filling her with his manhood.
As though he could hear her thoughts, Mr. Darcy’s fingers moved deeper as his tongue flicked over the center of her pleasure and made her moan aloud.
“Please, William... please.”
Allowing himself to be directed, Mr. Darcy shifted to remove his breeches, and Elizabeth bit her lips to prevent a regretful cry as he removed his fingers from her secret depths and rose up to position himself over her once more. Mr. Darcy took her hand gently and brought it down until her fingers encircled his manhood. It was hard, yet soft and smooth and Elizabeth felt her heart beat faster as she touched him.
“Guide me, Elizabeth,” he said softly.
With wide eyes, but without hesitation, Elizabeth guided the thick head of his manhood to her opening. With his eyes on hers, Mr. Darcy wrapped his hand around hers and pushed inside her slowly.
Elizabeth met his gaze boldly, her mouth open and panting as she anticipated what was to come. Elizabeth gasped as the stretch of her tender flesh around his manhood took her breath away. It was a sense of fullness that she had to breathe out to let pass. It was a sting that changed almost immediately into an unbearably pleasurable heat.
Mr. Darcy groaned and leaned down to kiss her as he pulled back slowly and then slid into her again. This time her body welcomed him, her silken walls becoming wetter and making the path slick and soft for him.
Mr. Darcy pulled her legs around his waist and moved closer to her, reaching between them to rub his thumb over the center of her feminine pleasure. Each slow thrust caused a sensation that thrummed through her in low building pleasure.
Elizabeth wanted more, and found herself moving her hips to meet his thrusts, a movement that made Mr. Darcy groan above her.
Mr. Darcy’s mouth claimed hers as she felt herself topple over the precipice of the mountain of pleasure that had been building inside her and she dragged her nails down his back as her climax washed through her body.
She could feel her velvet walls clenching down on his manhood and Mr. Darcy groaned and thrust deeply into her. She felt the hot wetness as his own climax overtook him and she felt their bodies fuse together as one and there was no telling where each of them ended or began.
Elizabeth wrapped her arms around her lover and pulled him to her breast. He was breathing heavily on top of her, his weight shifted to one side. She liked the weight of him on top of her. She felt surrounded, and invaded, but at the same time comforted and adored.
“My own Elizabeth,” he murmured against her skin.
“My own William,” she replied.
“Will you be Mrs. Darcy,” he asked once more.
Elizabeth raised her head and looked at him carefully, finally unable to deny every emotion that had been carved into her heart. “I will...”
Mr. Darcy smiled. “We will leave for Hertfordshire tomorrow,” he whispered.
“Yes, of course.” She said the words haltingly, choking on the tears that threatened to close her throat and make all communication impossible. But before she could say anything more, Mr. Darcy’s lips were upon hers. All would be well, she knew that now, and all thought of anything but the feel of Mr. Darcy’s body against hers and the pounding of her heart disappeared.
He did not stay as long as Elizabeth would have liked, but the threat of the doctor returning was enough to keep her from falling into a satiated slumber. Mr. Darcy left her with lingering kisses, and she had barely re-tied the ribbons of her nightdress when Felicity reappeared at her doorway with the news that the doctor had arrived.
Elizabeth was the keeper of many secrets, but now she had someone to share all of them with. William, her William, he would be the keeper of her secrets now, and she knew that he would bear the burden without complaint, just as she would bear his.
In the morning they would depart for London, and thence to Hertfordshire and the b
eginning of their life together.
The End.
2
Elizabeth’s Folly
Elizabeth’s Folly
Chapter One
“But how little of permanent happiness could belong to a couple who were only brought together because their passions were stronger than their virtue...”
* * *
Elizabeth could scarcely believe the letter that she held in her hand. Lydia… disappeared from under Colonel Forster’s watchful eye and gone from Brighton? It was almost too much to bear. Too much indeed.
She sat heavily in the rough wooden chair and covered her face with her hands, but the tears would not stop coming. However, anger and frustration spurred her misery, nothing more.
“Thoughtless, Lydia! How selfish you are!” Elizabeth muttered the words and tried to gain control over her emotions. Her cheeks burned with anger and her hands shook as she unfolded Jane’s letter to read it once more. There it was in her sister’s graceful hand, Lydia, gone from Brighton and in the company of Mr. Wickham.
The scoundrel. She had known it from the start, and she cursed herself for ever having sympathized with his lies. He had played her for a fool. Moreover, while he had been garnering Elizabeth’s support, he had been courting Lydia… Lydia! The shame of it. The scandal. Lydia was a foolish girl, that much was true, but surely she could not have put aside all of her better judgment and everything she had been taught for the sake of this man.
Angry tears coursed down her hot cheeks and Elizabeth could not help but feel helpless. Even though she knew that it was wrong to give in to the guilt that washed over her, she still wondered if there was something she could have done, more attention she could have paid to Lydia’s manners… something that could have prevented this disaster. If nothing else, Lydia was as headstrong as Elizabeth herself was, and if she had been a sillier young woman, she might have fallen into the same trap as Lydia now found herself in. Worst of all, Lydia probably did not feel as though she had done anything wrong.
