by April Karber
“I believe Miss Elizabeth will do,” she raised a warning eyebrow, “I know it is not the custom, but since you have known me as such, I don’t believe it will raise too much scandal.”
“I would be more than happy to once again become acquainted with Miss Elizabeth, then.” Darcy let slip a small smile and bowed.
“Thank you,” she was surprised at how much hearing him speak her name would affect her, and she could barely get the words out.
“Of course. I will leave you until supper.” He left abruptly, and though the fire had grown to be twice its original size, the library was much colder once he had gone.
Elizabeth settled on a book of poetry, a safe choice, and made herself comfortable on one of the chairs with the intention of reading right up until supper was served, for that way, her mind would be appropriately occupied the entire time.
Darcy found Elizabeth fast asleep in the library, curled up tightly in a wingback chair. More curls escaped onto her face than usual, and her book lie open, draped on her leg. He moved towards her hesitantly, eager that he should be the one to find her this way, but uneasy as to what her reaction would be.
“Miss Elizabeth,” he whispered gently, carefully removing the book from her lap in case it should fall. She stirred, but did not awaken. She was so peaceful, so angelic. Her lips parted as she inhaled deeply, and he leaned closer, hoping to kiss her lightly before she awoke. Would she think it was a dream if he did?
Her eyelids fluttered just a moment before Darcy’s lips met hers, and, sensing a change in the room, they flew open just as Darcy hurriedly backed his face away. She was too embarrassed and confused to have noticed his intention, too worried that she was keeping everyone from their meal.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, please excuse me!” She stood up and straightened her gown. Her hands flew up to her hair in order to assess the damage.
“Please do not worry yourself in the matter of your timeliness or appearance, madam. I can assure you that you have not delayed anyone in eating, and that you look as lovely as ever.”
Elizabeth froze at the compliment, caught in Darcy’s meaningful stare. The memory of waking up came back to her. Had he been about to kiss her? She blushed at the thought. Or had it been a dream? She looked at him for the truth of it, but could only discern the eagerness of his expression.
Bingley, Jane, and Georgiana happened upon them then, none of whom suspected they could be interrupting.
“You were right, Darcy,” Bingley said as they approached, “The library it was.”
“I had the advantage, Bingley,” Darcy said, breaking eye contact with Elizabeth, “I escorted her here earlier myself. It was just as I suspected, Miss Bennet was utterly preoccupied with a book of poetry, and lost track of the hour.”
He glanced back at Elizabeth expectantly and she rewarded him with a grateful smile.
! ((! “I understand perfectly, Elizabeth,” chimed in Georgiana, “if my brother and Mrs. Annesley were not so diligent in keeping timely meals, I would have happily missed many in favor of poetry.”
Mr. Darcy took both his sister’s and Elizabeth’s arms in his to escort them down to the dining room as the group of five enthusiastically discussed which poets were most captivating.
Chapter 30 When everyone had retired for the evening, Elizabeth found herself utterly restless owing to the events of the day and her rest in the library. She chided herself for not securing a portion of books to keep in her room. She hesitantly looked out the window, somehow hoping that it would be light enough to escape for a short walk. The moon, though full, was hidden behind dense clouds. Eight more uneasy paces around her room, and she threw her shawl around her shoulders, resigning herself to a journey to the library, and nothing more.
She was grateful when the old library door let out not the slightest creek when she slipped inside. She carefully shut the door behind her and eagerly looked about the room, noticing that the fireplace held a warm and roaring fire. She moved to slip out, unnoticed, as the other occupant of the room moved to stop her.
“Please do not leave on my account,” Mr. Darcy said, gently grasping her hand. Elizabeth cheeks warmed at the sight of his neck and upper chest, appearing at the absence of his coat, cravat, and a few buttons. She remembered her own appearance just as his eyes combed over her and she hugged herself instinctively, hoping her nightgown and robe were not completely see-through.
“I’m afraid I must...I should not have come.” She paused when she felt his hand on her shoulder. Warmth radiated from it, and she took a step backwards towards him before turning around. Everything was so quiet; but she would not let it unnerve her. Her courage rose as she met his gaze with a piercing one of her own along with a stubborn, set jaw. She could see that he was surprised by her expression, perhaps misreading it as one of anger, but after searching her eyes and seeing no hint of that feeling, his face relaxed in relief.
“Miss Elizabeth, I would like to clarify what I made known to you earlier. All of Pemberley is at your disposal during your stay, as you know. And I will add that this is the case either day or night. Now please come in.” He took a step back to allow her to come further into the room, but his eyes never left hers. “It is true I did not expect to see anyone at this hour, but that by no means makes your presence unwelcome,” he paused and looked away before continuing, “or unwanted.”
Their eyes met again, and Elizabeth saw his eyes were deep, dark pools of emotion. It unsettled her, but she not dare back down. If she were ever going to have this discussion with him, there could be no better moment. He could not possibly want her at Pemberley. This, she knew. How could he, after all that had transpired between them? He was kind enough to not go against the wishes of his best friend and his sister, but that did not make her staying there easier. Even if they could piece together the friendship they once shared before the disastrous proposal, there was still her undeniable association with
! ()! Wickham. Surely such an alliance would not destroy the friendship he had with Bingley, but theirs was of a different kind. Surely, if Bingley and Georgiana had not campaigned in her favor, Darcy would have endeavored to never see her again.
“Mr. Darcy, I must apologize for my presence here at Pemberley at all. I understand that you have only acquiesced to the arrangement at the behest of your friend, my sister, and yours, but that does not make it fair. As soon as it is polite, I will excuse myself and return to Longbourn. I do not wish to make you uncomfortable in your own home, sir.” Darcy stood silent for a moment, stunned.
“Miss Elizabeth, I hope that in no way have my actions or addresses given you reason to believe there is any truth in that statement,” he let out a long breath, as if grateful that the words had come out, “but if I have, it was only because I have been desperate to assure that you were not made uncomfortable by my presence.”
“You have shown me nothing but kindness, Mr. Darcy, but I am trespassing.” “It does not happen often, Miss Elizabeth, but you are wrong in this case. I am very pleased to have you here, if I am allowed to say so,” he paused, considered, and continued. “They would have been my actions and words that could be cause for
discomfort and embarrassment, but I will assure you that I will not renew those sentiments which cast our friendship asunder,” Elizabeth reddened at the memory of the proposal, “it was a mistake that cost me dearly.”
“Do not be so selfish as to take all the blame,” Elizabeth said, and he responded with a sad smile.
“I am selfish enough to take up all of your time when you have come with a purpose. I will leave you to it, and return to mine. I am at your disposal if you need me, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed meekly and returned to his desk, leaving Elizabeth to peruse the shelves while pretending he was not there. A small book, bright red nearly hidden amongst the other books of poetry caught her eye. When she had managed to pry it lose from its imprisonment, she discovered a small golden rosebud on the cover. As she studied the flower, she did not hear Darcy’s approa
ch, and so jumped when he spoke from just behind her.
“Miss Elizabeth, might I advise you against that particular collection?”
“If I were not a guest here, Mr. Darcy, I might demand a reason,” she raised one eyebrow wickedly.
“A reason would include a detailing of its contents, which would defeat my purpose entirely.” He raised both eyebrows, challengingly.
She put the book behind her back before answering.
“Ah, I am beginning to understand. Then perhaps I might rephrase my demand. What would a book with such contents, be so easily accessible, nay, what is such a book doing in your library, sir?” She was treading on impertinent, inappropriate ground, but she did not care. She had missed their discussions, their disagreements, and this had certainly done away with the tension between them.
“Then I might fear you had overestimated its contents. It is a book a poetry, but not one that I would recommend to a young lady.”
“I did not seek your recommendation, Mr. Darcy.” She was enjoying this teasing immensely, and though Darcy was the object of her taunts, he enjoyed it equally.
“I might mention that I was warned specifically against that collection.”
! (*! She brought the book out from behind her back to study the cover again, aware that this made Darcy nervous.
“You are familiar with it, it is in your library, and you have gone against such advice, why should I not do the same?”
“You and I are of a habit of forming our own opinions of things, regardless of what we have heard. I cannot deny you that book, for it was originally purchased solely because I was told not to, and I have done my duty in warning you against it.”
“Surely it cannot be so very bad,” Elizabeth hinted.
“You will see for yourself,” Darcy countered.
“You cannot think I will take it now, having been warned! What would you think of me?” She was disappointed that the game had ended, and handed the book to Darcy, cherishing the moment their fingertips met.
“I cannot fault you for what I have committed, but I will make a suggestion which I hope you will find agreeable. If we but add this to more books of your choosing to keep in your room, how am I to know whether or not you read it?” Darcy smiled smugly and returned the book to her.
“I will agree under the condition that you assist me in choosing the rest of the books, for as this is your library, you will know what will best keep me entertained as I will certainly avoid this.” She gestured to the little red book.
“As you wish, Miss Elizabeth.”
They picked several novels and two more books of poetry before Elizabeth called the stack “beyond satisfactory.”
“If it is still your habit to rise early and walk out after a late night, might I accompany you? I would be interested to know your thoughts on the books we have chosen.” He gave her a sly smile that suggested he only had one book in mind.
“Why of course, Mr. Darcy. But I hope you are as familiar with all of these books as you are with the red book, for it is the others we will be discussing.”
Chapter 31 As soon as Elizabeth returned to her room, she eagerly ripped open the pages of the red book. What could be so bad? Surely Darcy had been exaggerating if he had kept it in his library.
Three lines in and she was assured there had been no exaggeration on his part. In fact, Darcy had made it sound rather more innocent. Her eyes grew wide as she continued, unable to stop. Indeed it was a book of poetry, but the subject of which should never be discussed amongst society. She flipped through to the next poem, believing that the entire collection could not solely be dedicated to detailed acts of the flesh. Page by page revealed that she had been wrong. The thoughts expressed, the feelings, the descriptions, all made her sweat, and somehow she knew that Darcy would know that she had read it.
As much as she tried, she could not put it down. Each piece unlocked a mystery only to introduce another. She was no stranger to the acts between husband and wife, but passion was something new to her. She began to wonder if the women that were the objects of these works were not married to these men at all, and perhaps this form of love
! )+! did not exist in the marriage bed. Not until she had combed each piece, could she think of sleep. Even then, it did not come easy. The images haunted her and the feelings they aroused kept her awake. She was determined to return the book to the library in the morning before her walk, and well before anyone was up. The further she was from this book, the better. A sense of guilt and embarrassment came over her as she thought of facing Darcy.
“I am delighted to see you, Miss Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy caught up with her just as she began one of Pemberley’s many walking paths. She had succeeded in slipping the red book back into its original home, assured that no one knew of its being temporarily disturbed, save Mr. Darcy.
“Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I had not thought it necessary to wait for you, and I see I was correct.” She raised a teasing eyebrow at his knack in finding her on walks.
“Though I know you are not one to miss your morning exercise, I must still admit surprise at seeing you up this early after all that reading you meant to accomplish last night.” It was his turn to raise a teasing eyebrow, and Elizabeth thought she regretted ever teasing him in the first place, for he was always ready with a taunt to fire right back at her.
“Even still,” he continued, “our talk must not revolve around your reading. We might enjoy the great outdoors a great deal better if that is the subject of our walk this morning.”
“As eager as I am to avoid the topic of reading this particular morning, Mr. Darcy, I am afraid that while you may see the great outdoors, with its might oaks, lapping rivers, budding flowers, and the like, I find that the world appears to me in a rather scarlet shade this morning.” She decided to face the subject head on. He knew that she had read the book, she was sure of it. What use was there in denying it? And if he were attempting to tease it out of her, she would not give him the satisfaction of coaxing it out of her. She had come out right and said it, and therefore, it was his turn to be embarrassed.
“Ah, yes. I am sure you have paid particular attention to the roses in the garden this morning, as well, if scarlet is what is occupying you.”
“I asked you this last night, Mr. Darcy, but I would hear your answer again, having gained more knowledge of the subject. Whatever is that book doing in your public library?”
“As I explained, it is a book like any other. It is there to be read at anyone’s leisure, or not.”
“And what if your sister were to one day come upon such a book? Would this wisdom extend to her reading it?”
Darcy looked uncomfortable for a moment and Elizabeth feared she had gone too far.
“I would by no means suggest that she read it, but I would not deny her the opportunity if that were her choice. She is young, yes, but after what has occurred between herself and George Wickham, perhaps a wider range of knowledge on love would do her good.”
“Love, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.
! )"! “You would have me call it lust? It is a book of love poetry. However unconventional, they are intended as expressions of love.”
“With such shocking subject matter, I wonder that its sole intention was not to astound the world, Mr. Darcy.”
“Let violence and bloodshed shock the world, Miss Elizabeth. But love should have no part of it.”
They continued in silence for a while, until they reached a great tree that caused a deviation in the path, and the two slowed to round its great trunk.
“I know that you have vowed to marry for love, Miss Elizabeth, but do not vilify passion. When the two are combined, passion and friendship, that is a marriage of true love.” He said it with such nonchalance that it did not weigh as heavy as it might have, and Elizabeth silently thanked him for making the point so lightly.
“And when it is passion alone, what then?” She regretted asking. The tree reminded her of their kiss, and she dare not meet his
eyes for fear it would be repeated.
“I have neglected attraction,” Darcy answered, still maintaining indifference, “attraction can lead to…errors and misinterpretations, but when combined with love, leads to passion.”
“You sound an expert on the subject,” she said, finally meeting his gaze.
“Indeed with such a book in my library, I must grasp some knowledge of the subject. However, I speak confidently, but have no more to offer than speculation.”
“And observation, no doubt.”
“And limited experience.” He fixed her with a funny expression which made her blush, and they quickened their pace, not daring to raise the subject again.
Chapter 32 “It is nice to see you again, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said when she joined him in the breakfast room some hours after their walk.
“Despite your loss of rest due to books, how did you sleep?”
“Dreadfully, Mr. Darcy.” She let her answer sink in before she continued. “The beds here are far too comfortable and far too roomy.” She smiled at him playfully and his face relaxed into a playful smile of his own.
“I could send for a replacement, if that would make you feel more at home.”
“That purpose would also require you find me several snoring neighbors and a bed-mate. You see, Jane and I have shared a bed since our infancy.”
Darcy froze in sudden anticipation and longing. What Elizabeth had meant as a perfectly innocent comment made him desperate to suggest himself as her potential bedmate. Darcy remained so flustered and aroused that he did not have time to school his expression before Elizabeth’s eyes were on him, and it did not take her long to realize what she had said. Each was too agitated; one, regretting what she had said, one, what he had thought. Silence was decided as the safest means of continuing breakfast, until they were joined by Georgiana and therefore pressured into relaxed pleasantries.
“Good morning!” Georgiana’s voice rang through the room, cutting through the stillness.
