by Hahn, Jan
“No need exists whereby you must deny it. I am resigned to it. You love the scoundrel, and there is nothing I can do to change it.” He turned away and stared into the fire.
“Why do you persist in saying that? I know whom I love, and it is not Morgan! How can it be, when I love you?!”
Oh, what had I done? How had my tongue betrayed me?
Instantly he looked up, and although I attempted to turn away, I felt the force of his eyes upon me, willing me to meet his gaze when all I wished to do was hide my face. Before I knew it, he crossed the distance between us and stood so near I could smell his scent, feel the warmth of his body emanate toward me.
“What? What did you say?”
“I love you,” I whispered, “and I wish to God I did not.”
I said nothing more, simply stood there watching, waiting. I had lost all sense of honour, dignity, presence. I stood naked before him, my heart exposed and hurting, my shame lying open for his ridicule. Against every intelligent part of me that screamed I should be silent, I had blurted out the truth, the absolute, unalterable truth: I loved him. God help me, I loved him.
“Elizabeth,” he breathed.
And then unbelievably, I felt his hands upon my arms, pulling me toward him, gathering me into his embrace. I felt as though I stood to the side watching it happen to some other girl, some incredibly fortunate woman whom this man wished to touch, to hold close.
I watched his face incline toward mine, his lips coming ever nearer. His breath warm on my cheek, I saw his eyes move from my eyes to my mouth and then, oh so gently, his lips touched mine, and I began to tremble.
With tender caresses, he kissed me not just once, but once more, and then again and again and again. A pervading pit of fire began far, far down within me, so deep I could not fathom its source, a sensation I recalled from the single time before when his lips had touched mine. I felt myself lean into him, my hands spread wide open upon his strong chest, mindlessly moving back and forth and then upward, until I reached the warmth of his neck and those enticing curls edging his collar.
By then his kiss had grown harder as he forced my lips apart, taking my mouth with a fierceness that cannot be described, until I surrendered and allowed him to do what he willed. I was lost, utterly and completely lost in him, and I wished never to be found.
When, at last, he released my lips and began to kiss my cheek, my ear, and the place right below, my mouth throbbed in rhythm with my heart, and I trembled anew in his arms, clinging to him for fear that I could no longer stand.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered again and again as he led me to the sofa, never relinquishing his hold, nor lessening his embrace.
Once seated, he eased my head onto his chest, and I felt his hands smooth my curls back as though he would soothe and comfort me while his heart beat in my ear with a wild, furious rhythm. It was only then that I realized I was weeping.
“My dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, do not cry. I can bear anything but your tears.” I felt his lips upon my eyelids. He gently kissed away my tears, his tenderness more than I could abide. “Why are you crying? Tell me.”
“Because I have humiliated myself before you and because I am helpless to cease from doing so,” I whispered.
He sat back and lifted my chin so that I was forced to face him. “Whatever do you mean? I do not understand.”
I kept my eyes closed, turning my face aside. “Oh, why do you torment me so? I come here unescorted. I allow you to hold me and kiss me as though I were a woman of the night. I even confess that . . . I love you. How can I not find that humiliating?”
When he did not say anything, I lifted my eyes to find him smiling at me. “For one so intelligent, you are a silly little goose. What do you know of women of the night?”
“I know enough. Only that type of woman would approach you alone at night, would allow you to force her into making a declaration, and would allow you to kiss her in such a manner when you have made no similar avowal.”
“No similar avowal? What are you saying? Did I not propose marriage to you, Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”
“Yes, but we both know why — to protect my good name, to rescue me from society’s disapproval. I know that you do not love me.”
He smiled that infuriating smile once again. “Oh, you do, do you? What is going on in that strange little mind of yours? How can you possibly think I do not love you?”
I blinked and swallowed. “In the cave — ”
“Yes, I remember what happened in the cave only too well.”
“You kissed me and then said it was a mistake. You did, sir. You said kissing me was a mistake.”
He took my hands in his and brought them to his mouth. “I did, Elizabeth. I never should have taken advantage of you in that way. It was a mistake to do so, quite brazen and thoughtless of me. That was what I meant.”
I could not believe what he was saying. “That is truly what you meant?”
He nodded.
“So . . . so you do love me?” I whispered.
He reached out and took my face in his hands. “Of course, I do. I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words that laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun.”
I closed my eyes, knowing he was about to kiss me. Tenderly, his lips met mine, but I pulled away, a new thought having struck me. “Then why, sir, did you not declare yourself? Why did you not say you loved me? Why all that useless talk that we had to marry, that it was best for my family, best for my reputation? Never — never once did you profess your love! How dare you allow me to suffer all these weeks?”
“I am a fool,” he said, “an utter fool. I thought everyone could see how I felt and you most of all. I feared that you did not love me. All this time I suffered from the delusion that Morgan had captured your heart. Can you now fathom how I have suffered? After all, you defended him time and again and exercised much effort pointing out my faults!”
“Oh, I did!” I cried, glimpsing for the first time the predicament Mr. Darcy had endured, the manner in which he had read my actions. “I am the fool, sir, not you.”
“Let us not argue with the bard. We are mortal and therefore guilty. But no more, Elizabeth. From this day forward, we shall speak plainly. I love you with all that is within me, all that I am, all that I ever will be — all that I ever hope to be.”
“And I love you,” I said, growing weak, as he pulled me against him and once more began to ply me with kisses. I could not seem to control my hands. They roamed back and forth over his hard, powerful chest, while his strong but gentle hands caressed my back and shoulders. I matched his hungry fervour with that of my own, allowing him to recapture my mouth over and over.
At length, he sat back and held me at arm’s length. Both of us struggled to catch our breath. With a groan, he released my hands and stood up, walked to the fireplace and rested his forehead against the mantel. When he turned his handsome face to look over his shoulder at me, I saw the hungry passion still alive in his eyes, and my heart turned over.
“Elizabeth,” he said, still breathing deeply, “You must leave this house. I do not want you to — God knows I do not — but for your sake, I must get you out of here and a safe distance from me.”
I nodded slightly and unknowingly began to chew my lip, keeping my eyes on him.
His eyes narrowed, and I saw his chest move heavily as he breathed. “Do not — ” he faltered. “Do not do that, Elizabeth.”
“Sir?”
“Do not chew your lip. If you knew how often I have watched you do that — and what it does to me.” The expression on his face caused me to blush from head to toe. There was little need for him to say more.
I rose and gathered up my cloak. Instantly, he stood behind me and spread the garment around me, smoothing it over my shoulders, his hands lingering. I closed my eyes and sighed deeply. I could not keep from leaning back against him, and within moments, he turned me around and placed his
forehead against mine as he fastened the garment at my neck.
“I fear that we have a problem, sir,” I said softly, “of which you may not be aware.”
“I have a problem of which I am acutely aware, but to what do you refer, my dearest?”
I smiled and then lowered my eyes. “When last we spoke of marriage, you vowed never to renew your addresses to me, and I know full well that you are a man of your word. Does that mean we are to remain unmarried for the remainder of our lives?”
“I did say that, did I not?” he mused, frowning slightly. “Another bit of foolishness.”
“What shall we do? If you cannot propose again, it seems a hopeless case, does it not?” I raised my eyes and made them as wide and seemingly innocent as possible.
“It does,” he agreed, a statement I had not expected. “However, you must not expect me to resign my life to this exquisite state of torture, Elizabeth.”
“I must not?”
“No indeed, you must not!” He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the door. “Come with me.”
In the hallway, he instructed his butler to make haste and have his carriage brought to the front door. Firkin and Sarah stood where I had left them, expressionless but for their eyes wide with wonder. Mr. Darcy asked me who they were, and I explained that they were my uncle’s servants who had accompanied me, to which he readily praised them for their care of my person and indicated they were to join us as we marched out the front door.
He placed Sarah and me inside the carriage while Firkin took the footman’s position at the rear. Mr. Darcy announced that he would ride up front with the driver, commenting that he could do with a blast of cold night air.
As soon as the horses began to walk on, Sarah asked if I was well, and when I answered in the affirmative, she asked me our destination.
“I have not the slightest idea,” I answered.
In truth, I did not care as long as Mr. Darcy led the way.
Chapter Fifteen
I truly did not know where Mr. Darcy intended us to go. I thought possibly he would return me to my uncle’s house at Gracechurch Street, and quickly, before my family returned from dinner at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Hurst, so that no one but the servants would know of my daring, impetuous, and highly improper visit to his house. However, his carriage did not turn toward Cheapside, but remained in the fashionable portion of town. In fact, it travelled but a short distance before turning into Grosvenor Street and shortly thereafter pulled up in front of the residence of Mr. Hurst.
As we climbed the steps together, I gave him a quizzical look, but all he said was, “Will you trust me?”
“With my life, sir.”
“Then follow my lead.”
Once indoors, the butler said the family and guests were at table, whereupon Mr. Darcy asked him to allow us to join them. The servant hastened to oblige and snapped his fingers at a passing footman, barking orders for two additional places to be set.
“Mr. Darcy and Miss Bennet,” the butler announced, as he opened the doors to the dining room and stepped back so that we might make our entrance.
“Darcy!” Mr. Bingley cried, rising from his seat, “and Miss Elizabeth, how delightful! Do come in and join us. We have just finished our soup.”
There was a general uproar of surprise among our friends and family. Each of the gentlemen rose to acknowledge my presence, Mrs. Hurst urged us to sit down, and Caroline Bingley remained speechless.
“Thank you, Mrs. Hurst, Bingley,” Mr. Darcy replied, although he made no effort to sit or to allow me to do so. Instead, we advanced into the room and stood near the end of the table. He had tucked my hand inside his arm before we entered the room, and he kept his hand placed over mine, making certain I did not leave his side.
“Lizzy,” my mother said, “I thought you unwell. Why are you here and with Mr. Darcy?”
“If you will allow me to explain, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said. “I beg your leave for interrupting the meal, Mrs. Hurst, and I ask the gentlemen to be seated. I fear that what I am about to say may take some time. I must impose upon Mr. Bennet concerning a matter of grave importance.”
“Importance?” Mamá cried. “More important than my daughter’s betrothal dinner? I think not!”
“I pray you will forgive me, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy replied, “but when you hear my tale, I think you may find it takes precedence.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who stood next to Georgiana’s chair, began to frown. “Has something happened, Darcy? Do you require my services? Come man, out with it.” Others at the table began to murmur similar remarks.
My father held up his hand. “Let us give the gentleman a chance to speak. Shall you and I excuse ourselves, Mr. Darcy?”
“If it is all the same, sir, I prefer to speak before all of you.” Mr. Darcy turned and looked at me as though he were asking for my assent. I still did not know what he proposed to do, but I smiled up at him.
“Very well,” my father said and motioned for the gentlemen to take their seats. Everyone had ceased eating, of course, but when they seated themselves, no one picked up their spoons again except for Mr. Hurst who continued on, seemingly unaware there was anyone or anything in the room more interesting than his soup.
“Mr. Bennet,” Mr. Darcy said, “some weeks ago I asked for your daughter Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, did I not?” My father answered in the affirmative, and I heard a faint groan emanate from that portion of the table where Miss Bingley sat.
“At the time, I related the fact that due to no fault of her own, she had been forced to spend three nights locked in the same room with me, an occurrence that mandated we marry. Alas, Elizabeth refused to accept my offer.”
“She did,” my mother cried, “oh, she did! The ungrateful, uncaring girl! I have chastised her daily since then, Mr. Darcy. Daily, I tell you!”
“Very wise, ma’am,” he replied. I could sense his amusement. “Since her refusal, Elizabeth as well as your family, has endured scorn and public humiliation. Any sensible girl would retract her refusal, especially when I was obliging enough to offer her time to consider it, but the second time I asked for her hand, once again she told me no.”
“Oh,” my mother cried, “twice? You asked twice? Lizzy, how could you!”
“Mamá,” I murmured, beseeching Jane with a frantic look so that she attempted to calm her.
“Shocking, I agree, ma’am,” Mr. Darcy said, and I closed my eyes. What was he doing?
My uncle came to my rescue then. “Mr. Darcy, I fail to see what good it does to bring up all this?”
“If you will permit me, sir, I shall make it evident. The last time I asked for Elizabeth’s hand in marriage, I confess I spoke rashly. I told her I would not renew my addresses again.”
“Oh, thank God,” Caroline said, reaching for her wine glass.
“Sir, is there a point to all of this?” my father asked.
“Indeed,” Mr. Darcy said. “It is my painful duty to tell you that tonight Elizabeth arrived on my doorstep uninvited, having travelled in a hired cab, alone but for two of Mr. Gardiner’s good servants.”
A sudden collective intake of breath could be heard throughout the room. “I fear there is more. Your daughter and I spent a good three-quarters of an hour or longer alone behind closed doors in my library. For verification, you may consult Mr. Gardiner’s servants, who presently wait in the hall.”
My father rose once more, his brows knit together in a scowl. “Is this true, Lizzy?”
I looked away at first but then held my chin up and agreed. Mr. Darcy looked down at me, and I could see the satisfaction in his eyes. He seemed to be thoroughly enjoying his performance.
“But why?” my father asked. “What on earth would be of such importance that you would engage in such behaviour and put yourself at risk?”
I pressed my lips together, wondering how I might word my reason prudently. “Papá, a misunderstanding had arisen between the gentleman and me that warranted immediate
attention.”
“What type of misunderstanding?”
“One due entirely, I am afraid, to my ignorance,” Mr. Darcy interjected. “I feared that because of her refusal of my offer, Elizabeth did not care for me, but I was mistaken, you see. Tonight, behind the closed doors of my library, she confessed that I am indeed the fortunate man she loves after all, in spite of my numerous faults.”
He turned to face me, took both my hands in his, and slowly shook his head while gazing into my eyes. “Mr. Bennet, if Elizabeth were my daughter — and I am eternally grateful she is not — I would instruct my child that she may not call upon a gentleman alone at night, confess her love for him, and not expect to pay the consequences. I would then demand that the man in question agree to marriage, and I would insist that my daughter marry him! I think every honourable man in this room would stand behind you in that decision. Do you not agree, sir?”
I held my breath, shocked at his audacity, at how cleverly he had kept his word not to ask for my hand in marriage. The entire inhabitants of the room seemed to hold their breaths also, silent, save for the sounds of Mr. Hurst continuing to slurp the last remnants of his soup, his spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl.
I glanced at the table. Jane appeared shocked, Mr. Bingley somewhat nervous, a faint smile played around my aunt’s eyes, and my mother seemed dumbfounded, blinking as though she could not make sense of it until, all of a sudden, she recovered and cried aloud, “Yes! Yes, Mr. Bennet, that is exactly what you must do! You must make Lizzy marry Mr. Darcy!”
My uncle rose from his chair. “I agree, sir. As Elizabeth’s kinsman, I assert my right to make certain you do the proper thing, Mr. Darcy.”
“And,” Mr. Bingley said, also standing, “as — as her future brother, I add my voice in support as well.”
“Representing my father, the Earl of Matlock, and Darcy’s family,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said as he stood erect and did his utmost to keep a straight face, “I feel it my duty, Cousin, to demand that you act in an honourable manner.”
Every man at the table had now pledged their agreement except one. Mrs. Hurst attempted to catch her husband’s attention. “Psst, Ambrose! Ambrose!”
