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

by Lathan, Sharon

  “We opted for just one candle to avoid risking the house burning down,” Bingley joked.

  Once the snickers passed, Elizabeth elaborated, “Per tradition, the candle must stay lit all day and be blown out at dusk. One big candle is easier to maintain and extinguish. Making a wish before blowing out the flame ensures its granting.”

  Darcy smiled softly and squeezed her hand. “All my wishes have already come true. Nevertheless, while I am not one to lend credence to silly superstitions, this one is harmless fun, so I shall play along.”

  On schedule for the remainder of the afternoon were a series of parlor games. Not a huge enthusiast of group games which inevitably involved acting silly and being the center of attention, Darcy was less than thrilled at the prospect. Being an intimate quartet eased his qualms, as did the choice of charades as the first game and being paired with Elizabeth. While still not overly comfortable having all eyes upon him, the game of acting riddles required a fair command of language and some skill at dramatic performance. Aware that his capability with the latter would come as a shock to the watching trio, he volunteered to go first.

  Running through the charades he had memorized, he settled on one he could alter slightly. A tad suggestive, true, and sure to raise a rosy blush to Elizabeth’s cheeks.

  Hiding a smug smile, he rose and stood at the designated spot for a solid minute of theatrical caesura. Then, eyes locked with Elizabeth’s, he abruptly broke the silence with exaggerated resonance accompanied by impassioned facial contortions and melodramatic arm gestures.

  “When night brings on her moonlit hour,

  And stillness holds her magic power,

  All mortals to my arms repair,

  To bid adieu to toil and care.

  I am for various ends designed,

  Yet often love… you there will find.

  Within my vaults you seek repose,

  In joy, and peace, find release from life’s woes.”

  From the corner of his eye, Darcy noted Bingley and Jane reacting to his charade technique with expressions of astoundment. Elizabeth’s face had initially shown a similar cast, but she swiftly overcame her amazement to listen carefully to his riddle. Eyes followed his hand movements, tiny creases between her brows as she filtered through the words and relating gestures.

  “Shall I repeat the charade? We are on a time limit for the point,” he teased.

  She didn’t answer immediately. He could almost see the wheels turning as she pondered the riddle! After a full minute, she opened her mouth, Darcy thinking she was about to ask him to repeat the charade when suddenly her eyes widened. The flush he anticipated spread across her cheeks, but she also grinned saucily and didn’t glance away.

  “Bedroom. The answer is bedroom.”

  Bingley burst out laughing and Jane blushed scarlet.

  Darcy inclined his head respectfully. “Excellently done, Miss Elizabeth. First play score is ours. Next turn is yours, Bingley. Try to top that.” He murmured the last as Bingley passed close by, adding an amused chuckle.

  Charles merely shook his head.

  Resuming his seat beside Elizabeth, Darcy was content to say nothing and simply enjoy the pleasant sensations swirling between them. All in all, a fantastic beginning for the entertainment portion of the day!

  At the completion of eight rounds of charades, Darcy and Elizabeth were declared the winners. Next on the agenda was twenty questions. Being a game of intellect alone, Darcy was thrilled. Per the request of Jane and Elizabeth, Mr. Bennet had selected the mystery objects for the guessing game. To ensure fairness, his choices were written upon individual slips of paper and sealed in a thick envelope opened only when they were ready to start playing. Deducing the correct answer in under twenty questions proved to be a challenge even for Darcy’s superior education and mental capacity. Mr. Bennet’s objects covered a range of topics, with the difficulty levels running the gamut from a handful of moderately easy ones to several brain twisters.

  For the final parlor game of the day, the party plotters had agreed upon blindman’s bluff. In any other situation, participating in a game which required stumbling blindly about the room to chase after and then touch a person’s body was too horrific for Darcy to fathom. On the maybe two or three rare occasions in his social outings when someone broached playing the game, he had politely but vehemently refused to join in.

  Today, with these close friends, or more specifically with Elizabeth as his intended prey, the concept wasn’t quite so unpleasant. The choice of blindman’s bluff rather than the dozens of alternative options had been favored precisely because of the physical contact necessary. One must follow the rules, after all. If the game requirements failed to stipulate that kisses and embraces were not allowed, well, the fault was with the creators of the game pamphlets, right?

  With their lithe figures and experience as dancers, the ladies were naturals at evading capture. Jane employed her innate talent to be quiet and calm as a sort of shield from detection, almost as if she faded into invisibility from all the senses. When someone came close, she silently sidled away. It was fascinating to observe. Elizabeth was agile and speedy, traits that aided her in rapid direction changes and skipping out of reach.

  Darcy was the worse player by far. Between being a complete novice at a game the others had played numerous times before and his body being larger than the others, he was greatly disadvantaged. He suspected Elizabeth permitted him to catch her, enjoying the resulting kisses. Besides, as they all quickly discovered, there was no question who the victor would be. Bingley excelled at the game. He was quick on his feet, for one, but he also possessed an uncanny ability to home in on a person’s location and anticipate their movements. It truly was remarkable.

  After several rounds, they no longer bothered to keep score. Bingley was the obvious winner, as far as points went, but they were all winners in the ways most gratifying.

  They collapsed onto the sofas, winded from the exercise but in high spirits. The sun was low on the horizon, the colorful sky visible through the windows as a lovely background to the happy emotions they were each experiencing.

  “I can’t believe we ate all of those.” With the hand not clutching Elizabeth’s, Darcy indicated the tiered tray now empty but for crumbs. “And we drank through…was it two or three pots of hot chocolate?”

  “Just two, I’m fairly sure. Shall I call for more?”

  “Thank you, Jane, but no. Even I have had my fill.” Darcy smiled at his future sister. “I think tea would be a nice change, and it would complement the cake. Did you not say I must eat cake before dusk?”

  Elizabeth shook her head, eyes glittering as they always did when about to tease him. “What I said, Mr. Darcy, is that you must make your wish and blow out the candle by dusk. When we eat the cake is optional. Are you considering the vital importance of adhering to the superstition? Or is your empty stomach the primary concern for the timing?”

  Darcy feigned shocked concern, complete with a hand upon his heart. “I would never place my selfish needs over the sacred rituals of the universe, Miss Bennet.”

  “Good to know.” Her solemn expression and grave tone were as overblown as his mockery. “With the fate of the universe at stake, I guess we better hasten to fulfill the tradition.”

  Bingley stood and headed toward the servant bell. “I’ll call for tea and request they hurry. After all, we haven’t a moment to spare, or Darcy’s light of life candle will lose its magic. God only knows what that may portend!”

  As a matter of course, Darcy disregarded anything remotely hinting of the occult or mysticism. Perhaps it was a newfound appreciation for frivolity on the whole, or merely the pleasure of being honored with a birthday celebration which opened his heart to the harmless fun. There was no guarantee his willingness to engage in similar superstitions would last, but his beloved Elizabeth and dear friends had labored to ensure his birthday was special. Therefore, it felt right to show his appreciation by embracing the sillin
ess and doing all he could to amplify the entertainment.

  Once again calling upon his newly revealed mastery at theatrics, Darcy drew out the birthday wish ceremony.

  Pretending to strain at what to wish for, all the while peering at an amused Elizabeth, he finally bowed his head to deliver a solemn, protracted monologue.

  “I, Fitzwilliam Darcy, do humbly entreat the gods of birthday-wish bestowment to attend to my forthcoming request, secretly spoken within the depths of my mind, and do trust they shall hold to the immutable laws of metaphysics by honoring the wish, blessing me with the profound desire of my heart.”

  How he made it through that drivel without falling into helpless laughter was a miracle. Somehow he remained in character and proceeded to dramatize the candle-blowing procedure, first by positioning his body at “the perfect candle-extinguishing angle” with fists planted securely on the table. This he followed with three slow, cleansing breaths before a last mighty inhale and forceful exhale. Amid the laughter at his farce, the trio added cheers and clapping.

  Elizabeth rounded the table and clasped his arm. “Fantastic! I was going to play the strict mother hen and make you wait until after dinner for dessert, but you have earned a hefty slice with that performance.”

  Jane handed him the cutting knife. “You may have missed your calling, Mr. Darcy. I never would have guessed it, but you would shine on the stage.”

  “I fear my talents are meager and only revealed in intimate company. The compliment is kind, but I shall stick with being an estate owner and horse breeder.”

  The cake was delicious, of course. Satisfied beyond description at what was, no debate, the best birthday celebration Darcy had enjoyed ever, the phase of present opening boosted his joy to immeasurable levels.

  The first box Elizabeth plopped onto his lap was narrow and long. “This is from Georgiana. She gave it to me before we left London.”

  “But she gave me a gift on Friday before I left.”

  “Yes, the cravat pin. Isn’t it fabulous? That was her gift for the wedding, she told me. This gift falls into the useful category, and she wanted you to have one from her to open at your party.”

  Nestled on a bed of cloth was a shiny leather riding crop. “Useful indeed.” Darcy flourished it in the air. “I have several, but a horseman can never have enough riding gear.”

  Bingley’s gift was a pocket watch. “I know how you like old watches, Darcy, and antiques in general. God knows we tramped through enough museums together to etch that into my brain! This one is a Flemish watch by clockmaker Michael Nouwen, dated before his death in 1613.”

  “Charles, it is astounding. I truly cannot thank you enough. Yes, I do adore old watches, probably because my grandfather was fascinated by the technology. This one is a gorgeous specimen, and probably older than any others I have, or close to. It will sit in a prominent place in my display cabinet, I assure you.”

  His gift from Jane was a set of six silk handkerchiefs, each embroidered in the corner with his initials. “I am sincerely touched, Jane, that you would go to so much trouble for me,” he said with feeling, as his fingertips stroked the fine fabric. “These are precious, and I shall handle them carefully if I use them at all. Thank you.”

  Jane’s blush and murmured reply warmed his heart—so much sentimentality and heightened emotions! No wonder he shied away from fussing over his birthday. And it was only going to get worse because it was Elizabeth’s turn. She handed him a flat present wrapped with burgundy silk and tied with a blue ribbon. It was obviously a book, but he was stunned at which one.

  “Paradise Lost by John Milton. Unbelievable!”

  “You did say you were searching for that one to add to your collection. I hope you haven’t found one.”

  “No…I…Elizabeth, I cannot believe you remember me saying that! You were at Pemberley, in the library, when I mentioned it in passing, more to fill the air and overcome my nervousness.”

  “But you were serious, weren’t you?”

  “Yes! Yes, I was. This is marvelous, and no, I haven’t yet found one myself, so this is a true prize. I’m just…shocked at your recollection.”

  She reached up and gently touched his cheek with her fingertips. “William, I vividly remember every moment and word of our day together at Pemberley. It was a special day for me.”

  Vaguely Darcy was aware of Bingley rising and silently escorting Jane from the room. Taking advantage of the privacy, not that he would have been able to stop his actions had the other couple remained, Darcy clasped her hand. Bringing it to his lips for a series of kisses, he then leaned over and kissed her mouth.

  “Have I told you lately how utterly amazing you are? I love you with all my soul, Elizabeth. Finding this is a serious coup. How did you manage it?”

  “My father,” she laughed. “I believe he spent the vast portion of his time at Oxford in the library. He is well acquainted with the head librarian, who specializes in finding sought after volumes. Papa is forever adding old and rare books to his shelves. Would you believe the Oxford man had three first editions of Paradise Lost? Now, open the book. There is another gift tucked inside.”

  “I’m not sure my heart can take any more emotional surprises.”

  The declaration was a partial tease, but upon spying the object lying on the title page, he wondered if his heart would burst from the overwhelming emotions. Inside was a bookmark sewn of the finest silk, the back lightly quilted. Onto the silk, she had embroidered two intertwined hearts in red with his name in one and her name in the other. Above the linked hearts was a verse from Genesis.

  “The two shall become one flesh,” he read aloud, the words barely audible. Tears welled in his eyes, and further speaking was impossible. Gathering Elizabeth into his arms, he embraced her for a long while. He prayed the wild beating of his heart would convey his immense thankfulness for the gifts and her presence in his life. Though not yet wed to her, he already felt more complete than he ever had.

  Releasing his tight grip, he gazed into her eyes and brushed his thumb across her cheek. She was smiling and so beautiful. No power on earth or in Heaven could have stopped him from capturing her mouth in the wildly passionate kiss that followed. In seconds, they were lost to raging sensations.

  Forgetting the taboo zones, Darcy slid his palm down the leg she had conveniently lifted and draped over his knee. At the same time, Elizabeth somehow managed to loosen his cravat enough to glide the slim fingers of one hand down his neck until almost touching the bend at his shoulder. The other hand was far from idle, starting on his chest and steadily creeping lower and lower, until lingering just below his naval—too near the one part of his body that, if touched by her hand, would be his undoing.

  The words of the scripture on the bookmark rang within his mind. He was consumed by a yearning to engage in the physical act of love, fulfilling the Biblical promise to become one flesh. Some shred of awareness as to their location was the only deterrent to the force of his desire. Even then, taking control of the precarious situation required a monumental act of strength.

  Eyes closed, he clasped her face between both hands and rested his forehead against hers. His ears burned from the clamor of his harsh, erratic breathing and the pounding of rushing blood. “I want you desperately, Elizabeth. Waiting to be with you, completely, as your husband is agony. God help me to be strong.”

  “Only two more weeks, my heart.”

  “Eighteen days, unfortunately.”

  Elizabeth leaned away and opened her eyes. Darcy could discern the heat of remaining passion in the brown depths staring up at him, a truth confirmed by her next words. “You are not alone in wanting to be with you intimately or in the agony of waiting. Saying two weeks sounds better.”

  “To me, they both feel like an eternity.” After a huge inhale and exhale, he kissed her lips tenderly. “Elizabeth, this has been an incredible birthday. The absolute best of my entire life. How can I ever thank you adequately?”

  “You ha
ve until next May to think of a way. You are quite clever, sir, so I am sure your endeavors for my birthday will tip the scale back in your favor. But for now”—she slapped his knee playfully and scooted over—“did I say we were done for the day? Indeed not! There is plenty of cake left to eat, of course, and we still have dinner.”

  “Dinner? You didn’t invite… That is, please tell me there is nothing major—”

  Laughing gaily, she stood and offered her hand. “You should see your face! Breathe easy, love. Dinner tonight shall be as it is most nights, that is the four of us and my family. Having each other as chaperone only goes so far, even with my tolerant, somewhat oblivious parents. Charles feared if we were gone the whole day and into the night they would suspect we had absconded to Gretna Green.”

  “Now that would have been an even better birthday gift!” Darcy said enthusiastically. “I could have a carriage ready in minutes, avoiding the dinner portion of the day altogether and lifting this birthday to rapturous heights.”

  “Silly man! Don’t worry, William. Papa swore not to tell anyone it is your birthday. It is entirely your choice to reveal the fact or not.”

  Naturally, his choice was to pretend it was just another day ending with just another dinner. Therefore, naturally, the specialness of the day somehow spilled out roughly five minutes after they sat down to dine. To Darcy’s immense relief, none of the Bennets, not even Elizabeth’s excitable mother, said more than the obligatory best wishes.

  Breathing easier, Darcy passed the final hours of the day he turned twenty-nine in pleasant company. He ate a second spectacular meal, consuming not one but two generous slices of birthday cake, and finagled a good-night kiss from Elizabeth.