Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2

by Lathan, Sharon

  “But…those women today…what they said and how they acted toward me was…vile. How can this not matter, to you and to us? Is not reputation and proper behavior everything within society?”

  “Consider what they said and how they acted, and tell me who is truly most vile? It assuredly is not you! Lady Westingcote and her pernicious daughter are prime examples of how people in society often behave. They preach a moral and ethical high ground, and all the while they are debauched, shallow hypocrites. Not everyone, of course, although far too many for my taste. The majority are decent people who only possess the typical, largely harmless faults and sins that plague all of humanity. The point is, as much as I hate certain aspects of that world, I comprehend the intricacies. Therefore, you must believe me when I assert that while I do not for a second minimize the pain such words have caused you, they are, indeed, inconsequential.”

  He drew her hands to his lips, kissing each with a firm pressure before laying them against his heart. “To be clear, I owe much of this revelation to you, Elizabeth Bennet.” He smiled at the questioning cast to her face. Lizzy was sincerely perplexed as to his meaning. “I hesitate to bring up past confrontations we have sworn to leave alone. However, not too long ago, you sternly pointed out my prejudices and ridiculous arrogance. It was your moral character, your confidence and boldness, that forced me to hearken to your words. As I have already revealed to you, I spent months reevaluating my actions and thoughts, seeking to improve my character. I hope I have succeeded in that endeavor, at least to some degree?”

  The droopy mouth, sad eyes, and overblown expression of supplication was impossible to resist. Lizzy shook her head and giggled breathily.

  “Ah! A laugh! Much better. I shall take that as a yes.” He kissed her lightly on the forehead before guiding her toward the sofa. He still held tightly to her hands and did not ask if she was wanted to sit, but Lizzy discovered she was more than ready to relax beside him. Plus, suddenly a cup of tea sounded fantastic, even if cooled to lukewarm.

  He poured two cups and added the exact amounts of sugar and cream she preferred to one. Watching quietly, she waited until he joined her on the sofa before responding in a jesting tone. “It is a yes by the way. You have improved, although you never were quite as defective as I first thought.”

  “Good to know. Thank you.” He lifted his cup as if toasting, flashing a grin before taking a sip.

  “And I am sorry I called you hulking and domineering.”

  “Oh, no need to apologize for that. I am hulking and domineering. And a man. So, guilty as charged.”

  Mutual laughter eased most of the remaining tension, and the amazingly still hot tea played a significant role as well. They drank in silence for several minutes. Lizzy realized she was feeling almost her old self—a remarkable recovery, really, considering the extreme chaos of her emotions mere minutes ago.

  Then again, being close to William was inevitably comforting and joyous—and more than a little arousing. Even when not touching or looking at each other, those internal sensations she now identified as desire were kindled into flames. It was an elemental, visceral reaction that she no longer denied or tried to suppress. So when she had the last swallow of tea, she planned to set the cup aside and kiss him…but he spoke.

  “Maybe I should let the topic go, but I fear you may later, in your quiet moments, revisit what happened today and begin to doubt.” He looked up from his empty cup, serious eyes scanning her face. “Elizabeth, your words…before…did more than cause personal introspection. I removed the blinders installed by my upbringing and opened my eyes, as it were, to the world I was born into, assessing it honestly.”

  Cups relegated to a nearby table, he scooted closer until their knees bumped and he clasped her hands. “I’ve often felt…uncomfortable in society, as you know, but I was never so naive that I did not to see how people could be. It was all I had ever known, and I suppose it is normal to make excuses or pretend. I wanted to believe in the exalted ideals of our class structure, in elevated rank and superior breeding, the duty to family and ancestry. I still do, to be honest. Only now I know the limitations and the failings. I know that for all the positives there are negatives, and this isn’t any different wherever one falls on the social ladder.”

  He paused, face tight and deep creases marking the space between his brows. Finally, after a huge sigh, “What I am trying to explain, not very well I think, is that within the somewhat indistinct group known as ‘Society’ there is a hierarchy with rules and standards. This is true. There is also corruption. Into this comes rampant gossip typically forgotten for the next round of rumors. Upon occasion, sadly, the gossip can lead to real damage, depending upon the persons involved and the degree of truth to the scandal. However, overriding any of this is rank, wealth, and power. Simply put, if one has the latter in large quantities and is well connected to others who do, no amount of scandal, even if extreme, can seriously harm them in the long term.”

  Peering intently into her eyes, grave and with the self-assured nobility of his station firmly settled upon his countenance, he asked, “Need I elaborate further? You will soon be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, my wife. Do you now fully comprehend why I am absolutely certain none of the lies matter?”

  It fleetingly crossed her mind to tease a bit for the arrogant boast. In reality, his supreme confidence wiped out any remaining negativity from the ugly encounter at Grosvenor Chapel. Furthermore, the blatant authority heard in his resonant voice and seen in his autocratic features heated the simmering desire until all she wanted was for him to kiss her.

  A slow smile spread over her lips and she bobbed her head once.

  “Good, it is settled. Now, although I suspect the others to arrive any minute, if not already here and being entertained by Georgie, I am not letting you leave this room, Miss Bennet, until I kiss you thoroughly.”

  And then he did. Quite thoroughly indeed.

  8

  Festive Commemoration

  On the tenth day of November, Darcy greeted the dawn precisely as he had each morning since his engagement. With eyes still closed, he woke in languid stages as his vivid, erotic dreams of Elizabeth slipped smoothly into conscious visions of being with her in some capacity that day. What they found to occupy the hours never mattered to him, except for ensuring they managed at least a few minutes alone for shared kisses and caresses.

  As the days counted down toward the wedding, solitary interludes were becoming easier to arrange. Darcy suspected Mr. and Mrs. Bennet would not be quite so trusting if they knew his “rigidly proper gentleman” pose was largely a ruse. He felt a bit guilty for the minor deception. Then he would take Elizabeth into his arms and kiss her delicious lips…and the guilty feelings scattered into the wind.

  Anticipating more of the same, he was halfway done with breakfast before a glance at the calendar on his desk reminded him of the actual date.

  Today is my twenty-ninth birthday! Why do I continue to forget?

  The main reason, as he well knew, was because observing his birthday had not been a major event since his youth. Since his mother’s death twelve years ago, and indeed for a time before that, festive celebrations of any sort were rare. If not for some well-intentioned loved one remembering, Darcy strongly believed his birthday could come and go without him marking it at all. This wasn’t implausible, having forgotten until just now after being reminded two days ago!

  That past Friday morning, as he’d prepared for his return to Netherfield, Mrs. Smyth had greeted him with, “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. As you are leaving today, I shall extend my wishes for a joyous birthday now.” As he’d stood there stammering his thanks, Georgiana had bounded down the stairs with a wrapped gift in her hand that she insisted he open immediately.

  All in all, he had felt extremely foolish, even if the scene was a near repeat of his birthday for the past ten years plus.

  Georgiana always remembered the date, bestowing a colorfully wrapped present along with an
exuberant hug and well wishes. Maybe four times in the past decade, his cousin Richard had tossed him an unwrapped gift—always some sort of liquor that Richard drank half of—along with a birthday wish inevitably including a mention of advanced age and senility.

  If Darcy happened to be at Pemberley, and he usually was by November, Mrs. Reynolds would warmly extend her blessings and ensure dinner included all of his favorite dishes. Never one to relish being fussed over, even when young, the minimal attention suited him just fine. Who wanted to be reminded that another unremarkable, lonely year had sped by?

  Of course, this birthday differed greatly due to the blissful addition of his beautiful Elizabeth. She was, no argument or competition, superior to any gift received, past and future. He neither needed nor wanted anything else. Regardless of his current happiness, nothing had changed as far as his tendency to forget the date itself and his preference to forego any fanfare when forced to acknowledge he was another year older.

  These truths notwithstanding, on the carriage ride from London, Darcy had pondered several birthday-related questions he worried may cause a problems. Should he announce his upcoming birthday to Elizabeth as soon as he arrived? Doing so went against his natural reticence and humility. But if he said nothing, how would Elizabeth feel when she discovered his birthday had passed? Would she interpret his silence as withholding a portion of himself from her? Would she be more distressed at not having an opportunity to honor him and celebrate a special day or at having a mere two days to find a gift?

  Perhaps such mundane calendar events are unimportant to her, as most of them are to me.

  Deep in his gut, Darcy knew better. Elizabeth was practical, more so than many women, but also extremely romantic and thoughtful. Women were particularly sentimental regarding birth anniversaries—understandable since females are the ones who bring new life into the world—and held high expectations regarding their own. The latter had more to do with the gifts, he suspected, based on his sister’s zestful delight over the smallest trinket garnished with a bow.

  Additionally, while not quite as animated when presenting a gift as she was when receiving one, Georgiana adored expressing her love for him by finding special objects befitting his personality and hobbies. Her birthday gift this year, an exquisite cravat pin crafted to match his wedding ensemble, was proof.

  Long before reaching Hertfordshire, Darcy had decided to remain silent on the subject. Aside from his indifference toward observing his birthday, upon further reflection, he concluded Elizabeth was probably long ago aware of his birthdate. For one, she simply wasn’t the type of person to overlook what most people considered an important detail. Second, he recalled a dinner conversation which had taken place shortly after their engagement, while dining at Longbourn one evening.

  Amid the disorderly and frequently too-loud discourse Darcy found highly irregular and irritating, Kitty had launched into a fretful whine over her early December birthday being forgotten due to wedding aftermath. Not in the least interested in Elizabeth’s younger sister’s petty concerns, he was grateful for the topic as it provided a sensible opening for him to ask Mrs. Bennet when Elizabeth had been born. Even he, avowed loather of his own birthday, appreciated that this was of vital importance to females. Tremendously relieved that he had until the following May to figure out how to properly honor her special day, his much-sooner birthday never crossed his mind.

  What Darcy did recall was that he had directed his gaze toward Elizabeth where she sat at the opposite end of the table near her father chatting with Mary. Seconds later, she had lifted her eyes and smiled at him. Whether she had overheard his hushed, brief exchange with Mrs. Bennet hadn’t concerned him at the time, but in retrospect, he believed it possible.

  She had never asked him directly, but there were any number of people who could have enlightened her, Georgiana or Charles the probable culprits. Therefore, odds were good that she was aware of the date and, worse yet, she might be planning a major celebration.

  Standing at the window of his Netherfield bedchamber and staring at the light dusting of snow upon the ground, Darcy had a sudden horrific vision. In sharp detail, he imagined an elaborate gathering with half the citizens of Hertfordshire hoisting him into the air while toasting his health and singing, “For he’s a jolly good fellow!” He honestly preferred torture with hot brands than to suffer such a fate. The joy of Elizabeth’s company was barely enough incentive to keep him from crawling back under the covers and claiming a deathly case of the plague.

  Bravely deciding to face the day, Darcy headed toward the main parlor, as he did each morning, to meet Bingley before driving to Longbourn. The younger man was already there, staring out at the landscape with a happier expression than Darcy had directed at the dreary gray clouds and snow. Charles appeared quite delighted, in fact, and a suspicious Darcy found this annoying.

  Steeled for a boisterous happy birthday hail, he was taken aback when Charles gestured to the scene outside the window and boomed, “Look at it, Darcy! Quite stunning, I daresay. Although a bit more snow to completely cover the ground would have been nicer. Either way, it is colder, and that is excellent. Don’t you think?”

  Bingley’s bright smile was completely at odds with the weather.

  What did the sneak mean about the snow and cold being excellent? Moody and on edge, Darcy scanned his friend’s face for any clue that secret birthday plotting was afoot.

  “I am fond of the cold and snow,” Darcy admitted, narrowed eyes scrutinizing, “but did hope the temperate weather would hold for a bit longer. Frozen or muddy ground is not promotive for long, solitary walks.”

  “Ah, but for a carriage ride snuggled close under blankets and furs, it is perfect! Or have you forgotten my Jane’s suggestion for today?”

  He had forgotten, in fact. Apparently, the curse of poor recollection was becoming an epidemic. While at dinner the previous evening, Jane had innocently inquired of her fiancé, “Mr. Bingley, am I mistaken or does the garage at Netherfield house two phaetons?”

  “Indeed, it does, Miss Bennet. Why do you ask?”

  “Well, I was thinking, if we do have snow tonight, and it isn’t a significant amount, as Papa ensures it will not be, perhaps we could take a drive on the morrow? Nothing is as lovely as freshly fallen snow blanketing the open meadows.”

  Elizabeth had immediately added her exclamation of approval, her eyes sparkling so captivatingly in the candlelight that Darcy’s murmured agreement could have been for plans to feed wild lions for all he knew.

  “I know you too well, Darcy,” Bingley said, interrupting Darcy’s revisit of the previous night’s dinner conversation. Turning from the window, smug grin in place, he walked across the parlor toward the door. “You would no more miss an opportunity to be alone with your betrothed than I would mine. If Mr. and Mrs. Bennet interpret two open carriages driving together as allowable under the rules of propriety, who am I to argue? Besides, we both have excellent vision so can see the other carriage even if little more than a dot on the horizon. If asked, we can swear we were within eyesight the whole time.”

  Pausing on the threshold to the foyer, Bingley winked and then laughed.

  Instantly in a jolly disposition, Darcy hastily followed, forgetting all about birthdays and the rather bizarre case of forgetfulness too. His thoughts had already skipped ahead. After all, a couple in love could enjoy all manner of tender liberties when bundled under concealing blankets on a deserted country road!

  * * *

  Darcy and Elizabeth were closing in on six weeks since she had accepted his second proposal of marriage. Of all the remarkable developments between them during those weeks, the most surprising to Darcy was how incredibly close they had grown. He had anticipated complete accord to evolve after they exchanged vows, with the weeks of courtship establishing foundational stones to build upon later.

  Instead, he often found it necessary to remind himself that they were not already wed. The degree of comfort he felt with
Elizabeth was extreme, and he knew she felt the same. Conversation, no matter the topic, was as spontaneous as breathing. Good-natured raillery and private jokes flowed. Best of all, or worst of all depending on the place or people present, was the intensity of their mutual attraction and how natural the expression.

  He had lost count of the number of times he caught himself before caressing her cheek or even planting a soft kiss while in the middle of a crowded room. Probably a few more than the times he hadn’t stopped the impulse, but not by a wide margin. It was quite alarming how rapidly his restraint, the product of nearly thirty years of harsh discipline, was disappearing.

  Then, he would receive a spontaneous peck on his cheek or firm squeeze of his hand, gaze into her love-filled eyes, and any concerns would flitter away. What was the worst that could happen? A disapproving glare he would not notice anyway? A stern rebuke he would apologize for and then promptly disregard? The world would not screech to a halt if Darcy of Pemberley broke a rule or acted in a less-than-perfect manner.

  The second he drove the phaeton off the busier thoroughfare connecting Longbourn to the village of Meryton, he scooted closer to Elizabeth until they were pressed together hip to toe. She welcomed the maneuver by ensuring the woolen blankets draped over their lower bodies weren’t caught in between them and then rested one gloved hand just above his knee. The sun was shining between the wisps of clouds, so while colder than it had been thus far that November, the air temperature was rising. Then again, even if it had been arctic out, the heat of her touch would have been more than enough to ward off the deepest chill.

  Between the distraction of her fingertips lazily stroking tiny circles and his own searching for the side road he intended to take, Darcy belatedly realized what Elizabeth was chatting about.