Mr. Darcy's Undoing

by Abigail Reynolds

  “I do not envy you that task,” said Mr. Bennet with great feeling.

  Chapter 8

  It was not until after dinner that Darcy managed to be alone with Elizabeth, and even for this he had to rely on his cousin spiriting Georgiana away for a time. The chance could not come too soon for him; Elizabeth’s spirits had been hard for him to ascertain, as she seemed both unusually subdued yet more tranquil than he had seen in some time, and he was worried about the effects of their conflict of the previous day. To his relief, the others had no sooner departed than she looked up at Darcy with a brief but enchanting smile. Without hesitation he moved to sit by her side, and when she modestly did not look over at him, he began to dust slow, light kisses across her cheek, her hair, and her neck.

  “Mr. Darcy, have you no shame?” said Elizabeth, with a laugh which showed she was not displeased.

  “None whatsoever,” he responded, neatly taking her embroidery from her hands and setting it aside. He took her hands and placed them around his neck. She looked at him with dancing eyes as he pulled her closer. “I find I am in great need of your kisses tonight, my best beloved.”

  His lips touched hers lightly, and he nibbled temptingly on her lower lip. She did not hesitate in her response, making evident her pleasure by the way she melted into his arms. Their mouths danced together, giving and receiving pleasure in equal measure.

  “Now I am the one who is shameless,” said Elizabeth lightly as they paused for breath, her cheeks flushed from the desire he had succeeded in arousing in her. At moments like this, she could hardly recall why she had ever resisted him, when the touch of his hands on her back and her waist was giving her such exquisite pleasure.

  “Pray do not change on my behalf!” said Darcy, who was in danger of revising his decision regarding the value of seduction. The feeling of her warmly compliant body in his arms intoxicated him, and to distract himself from the direction his thoughts were taking, he turned his attention to her mouth again, deepening the kiss to express the urgency of his desire for her.

  Elizabeth hesitated for a moment, knowing how quickly her desire could spiral upwards; then, feeling the full pleasure of his possession of her mouth, met him halfway until her entire body seemed to tremble with sensation.

  Darcy, feeling his passion beginning to run beyond his control, regretfully released her lips, pulling her head against his shoulder until he felt master of himself once more. He was more certain than ever that his plan to force the issue of marriage was a good one; was she truly so innocent as to believe they could continue to be passionate like this indefinitely without her eventually ending up in his bed?

  Elizabeth, who was experiencing a strong response to his proximity, was feeling a disturbingly powerful aching for his touch in the more forbidden parts of her body. I must not allow this to go so far! she thought with a little panic, realizing that her revised thinking about their future seemed to put her at more danger from him. Lest Darcy recognize the jeopardy to her self-control his kisses had wrought, she forced herself to say lightly, “What brings on this sudden great need for my kisses?”

  “I will not dignify that question with the obvious answer,” he said teasingly. “Suffice to say that I fear you will be less willing to give them to me after I have said my piece tonight.”

  With a look of amused resignation, Elizabeth pulled away and crossed her arms, waiting for the latest iteration in his arguments on marriage. She would hear him out, she decided, and then when he was finished, she would tell him of her decision.

  Darcy was reluctant to spoil the playfully flirtatious mood between them, but could see no other choice. “I called at Longbourn this morning when I was out riding,” he said carefully. “We are invited for dinner there tomorrow—you, the Bingleys, and I.”

  Elizabeth looked upwards. “Somehow I doubt the invitation actually included me; my mother would be happiest if I never crossed her doorstep again.”

  “In fact, I believe you have been restored to your mother’s good graces,” he said tentatively.

  Now she did laugh. “And when did this miracle occur?”

  Darcy took a deep breath, then with a slightly horrified fascination noticed that his hand was engaged in playing with one of her hairpins, and had in fact worked it most of the way out of her hair. Surely he had not always had these self-destructive urges? “I believe it followed immediately upon your father informing her that I was asking for your hand—at least, that is when the invitation was extended.”

  Her smile faded, and he watched the play of emotions across her face, disbelief and anger predominant. She seemed to struggle for self-mastery for a moment, and then finally asked tensely, “Why?”

  He did not pretend to misunderstand her. “I have decided to make my intentions towards you public; and it seemed only politic to speak to your father about it first,” he said. Seeing the lines of her face tighten, he added cajolingly, “We have been stalemated, and we cannot continue as we are, so I decided to remove your reason for refusing me. Now any damage that may happen is already done, or will be soon enough, and by my own hand, not yours—anyone who would think ill of me for marrying you will condemn me for courting you in the first place. Since I have been unable to convince you that you mean more to me than what others think of me, this is my proof. The only thing which remains to be seen is whether you will make me a laughingstock as well by refusing me publicly.” He looked at her hopefully.

  Elizabeth was filled with anger, that he should go behind her back like this and involve her family, but she also felt some relief that the decision had been taken out of her hands. She had been expecting something like this sooner or later, though she had not imagined this stratagem—she had thought some effort to compromise her to be the most likely route in forcing her to marry him. She had been doing nothing to prevent that either, allowing him to kiss her freely in the public rooms of the house. It was ironic, though, that he should force the issue just when she was finally ready to concede; and now, since she disliked being coerced, she was vexed with him for it.

  “May I ask a question?” Her voice was sharper than she had intended.

  “Of course, always,” he said, worried by her tone.

  “Why did you visit me so often last summer at Longbourn, when I was engaged to Mr. Covington?”

  He blinked in surprise. If he had not known what her question would be, he certainly had not expected this, nor could he see its relevance to their current discussion. Still, clearly it was important to her. “I do not have an easy answer for that, since my motivations did not always seem sensible even to me then. At first, I believe, it was because I wanted to gauge whether or not you loved him, thinking it would be easier to forget you if I knew you loved another, but I think very quickly it transmuted itself to being because I simply could not stay away. The idea of you married to another man was more than I could bear, and the only relief I felt was when I was with you, and could pretend nothing had changed, and that you were still free.” He looked at her anxiously. “I know it does not make a great deal of sense; I was not in a very sensible place at the time.”

  She looked down for a moment as she considered this. “And what did you want from me?” she asked seriously.

  “Your companionship, your liveliness, your smiles.”

  Turning to him, she looked deep into his eyes. “Were you hoping I would fall in love with you?”

  She had startled him yet again, and with a question he did not particularly want to consider, much less answer. “I do not believe I ever thought of it in those terms,” he said slowly, “but I suppose I did, though I am ashamed to admit it. I am, as you have noted before, quite selfish at times.”

  She reflected that she probably would not have believed him had he denied it. “I see,” she said quietly.

  Still uncertain of what this turn of the conversation portended, he said, “I expect you are angry with me.
”

  “Angry? That you tried to subvert my affections, or that you spoke to my parents?” As soon as she said it, she knew it was a pointless discussion—she must try to put as good a face on it as possible for both their sakes. Even if she wished to refuse him, he had left her with no choice. “But it does not matter; I accept, in any case.”

  “You will marry me?”

  She sighed. This conversation had not gone at all as she had hoped. “Yes, I will marry you—you have won.”

  To her surprise, he showed no triumph or even pleasure in her statement. He said steadily, “You are the only arbiter of whether I have won or lost, for without your love this victory is a hollow one. I can understand why you would be angry, and my punishment is in your hands—all you need do is withhold your affection.”

  “Yet you took that risk,” she said, some of her earlier anger at his cavalier behaviour returning to her.

  He took her hand in his, and was relieved to see she did not resist. He looked down at their joined hands and said, “Yes—I decided to have faith in you, and to believe that your affection for me could not be so easily diminished.”

  She was beginning to recover from the shock now, and able to recognize that regardless of his reasoning for taking this action, the outcome had not been truly affected by it. Nothing had changed, in truth, except that he had been more cunning than she had anticipated. He was still the man she loved, despite his faults, and she did not want to quarrel with him. She smiled at him, not failing to note his look of profound relief at her reaction. “Your timing is fortunate, then, sir; for I have been coming to a similar conclusion myself today, and was prepared to accept you tonight in any case,” she said, “even without this pretty piece of blackmail you have concocted.”

  His eyes lit with feeling. “Do you mean that? Or are you merely saying it to make me more comfortable, since I left you little choice?”

  She answered him in the currency she knew he would accept, pulling his face down to hers and kissing him tenderly. He was not slow in accepting her overture, and expanding upon it. Elizabeth, feeling a new freedom with their changed status, lost herself in the fulfillment of being in his arms as he kissed her face, her neck, her shoulders before returning again to drink deeply of her lips, expressing a pleasure he could not have put into words. She could not have enough of his touch as his hands roamed through her hair, down her back, and around the curves of her waist. When he finally lifted his head, she was conscious only of a wish that he had not stopped.

  He looked at her, his eyes dark with passion. “Can you forgive me, best beloved?”

  “I suppose I must, though you are altogether too clever for your own good, my dear; I shall have to remember to be careful of you,” she teased.

  Darcy, having reversed his previous course, was allowing his fingers to play in her hair, for the simple reason that if he did not find some way to occupy them, they would soon be engaged in discovering how to remove Elizabeth’s clothing. Quite intoxicated by having won her, he said unguardedly, “It was better than the other plans I had for convincing you that you must marry me.”

  She laughed. “Oh? And what were your other ideas?”

  To her surprise, his cheeks covered with the deepest blush, and instead of responding to her question, he began to kiss her once more. Before his effect on her could grow too great, she freed herself and said good-naturedly, “You are trying to distract me, sir! I am beginning to grow suspicious.”

  Without quite meeting her eyes, he murmured something about being caught in a compromising position, and began to place light kisses along the delicate veins of her neck.

  “Deceit does not become you,” she accused him impertinently.

  He suddenly seemed quite absorbed in stroking her hair, which was by now in grave danger of coming down. After a moment, though, he met her eyes with rueful embarrassment, then nibbled on her ear. He whispered, “Very well, you minx, if you must know, my other plan was to seduce you.”

  A wave of heat rushed through Elizabeth at his words, and she became conscious once more of how much she ached for him. The idea of him thinking about her in that way was both embarrassing and arousing at the same time. The fact that he had turned to kissing her slowly and enticingly as soon as he had said his piece did not help, nor did the sensation of his fingers against the back of her head as he disposed of her hairpins. She felt a lurch deep within her as she felt her hair falling loose upon her shoulders, and he wound his hand into the thick mass of it. His kisses became more probing as his finger traced lightly along the neckline of her dress, drifting across the top of her breasts in a manner which seemed to create a sensation of heat in her most secret places.

  She felt a moan rising from her lips, and quickly transmuted it into speech. “Is this meant as a demonstration? Because if it is, I can assure you that I understand the meaning of the word ‘seduce’ perfectly well.” Her body craved the return of his hand to her breast with an alarming ferocity. Her fingers, seemingly of their own accord, slipped inside his frock coat to discover a delicious warmth.

  He nipped her lip. “Perhaps I am simply enjoying knowing you have agreed to be mine,” he said softly before returning to stake his claim to her mouth. In truth, Darcy was in even worse condition than Elizabeth—merely having admitted he had thought about seducing her had taken him beyond the limits of his self-control, and by this point, he had no wish to stop. The feral, insatiable Darcy from his dreams was making the decisions now, and Elizabeth’s responsiveness did not help his state. He was far closer than he would ever care to admit to carrying her off to his bed. He longed to make the intimacy implied by her disheveled appearance a reality, and the sooner, the better. Intoxicated with her, he slipped his fingers under the edge of her dress to explore the nakedness of her shoulder. God, but he wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman!

  He could hardly believe he had gone this far—if anyone came upon them now, there could be no denying what had happened. This thought, instead of bringing him to his senses, led him only to free himself long enough to extinguish the lamp beside them before returning to gather her back into his arms and finally, finally allow himself to gently cup the softness of her breast.

  Elizabeth felt weak from the waves of desire emanating from the spot where his hand rested. His touch simultaneously relieved her and made her yearn for more. Disturbed by the depth of her own longings and fearing discovery, she spoke his name, but it came out sounding more like a plea for more than a request to desist.

  “Yes, Elizabeth?” he said, drawing back just enough to see her eyes.

  As she opened her mouth to speak, he drew his thumb lightly across her nipple, and all words failed her as a shock of pleasure ran through her. Darcy smiled slightly, pleased by what he saw in her face, and repeated his action. “You see,” he said conversationally, “that plan had its merits as well.” He began to move his thumb in small circles.

  “William, someone could walk in!” she protested, more weakly.

  His dark eyes probed hers. He no longer cared about his loss of self-control; nothing mattered, so long as he could keep touching her. “You think we should stop? If you wish; on one condition.” He paused, leaving Elizabeth with wild imaginings of what his condition might be. His voice was low when he continued. “Tell me you want me.” He moved to rolling her nipple between his fingers.

  “Shall I tell you the sun rises in the east as well?” Her voice was shaky as tremors of feeling she had never imagined possessed her. “Very well—I want you, William,” she gasped as he intensified his pleasuring of her.

  It was fortunate, she reflected, that he chose to keep his word and released her, all but the hand playing in her hair, since saying those words seemed to cause her own resistance to vanish. She closed her eyes, trying to regain her self-possession. After a few deep breaths, she said, her eyes still closed, “I will have to remember in future the d
anger you have mentioned in feeding tigers.”

  Darcy was silent as he wrestled with his own demons. He had never intended it to go so far; he knew full well that he would have taken her if she had not asked him to stop. His toying with her responses at the end, provoking her and demanding a verbal submission to replace the physical one he craved, revealed an uncontrolled part of himself he had always harshly repressed. But, by God, it had been gratifying to hear her say she wanted him, and to see her helplessly entangled in the pleasure he was giving her. There was, he thought, less of the gentleman and more of the predatory tiger in him than he cared to admit, and he was deeply mortified by it.

  His voice was reserved when he finally spoke. “I told you once before that I was not a barbarian; it appears I was incorrect. Thank you for stopping me.”

  She heard the self-loathing in his voice, and it brought her back to herself quickly as she looked at him in concern. “We are to be married, my dear; and you did stop when I asked,” she said gently, a part of her still marvelling that the first part of her statement was true.

  His hand tightened in her hair. “Yes, we certainly are to be married,” he said, his voice unreadable. “I appreciate your forgiving nature. But you are quite right; someone could walk in. Perhaps I should let you go to deal with some of the damage before that happens.” Slowly he loosened his fingers and released her.

  “Very well,” she said, trying to convey with her voice that she did not blame him in any way. “I will see you soon, then.”

  She received the briefest of smiles for her effort. As she stood, she leaned towards him and said, “And if I come back to a grim visage, I will take advantage of my new position as the future Mistress of Pemberley and set the tigers on you.”

  He gave a startled laugh, then caught her hand and kissed it quickly before she left.

  ***

  After all that had occurred, Elizabeth found herself unable to sleep that night, and so was propped up in her bed reading long after midnight when she heard a light rapping at the door of her room. Thinking it must be the maid, she called out to her to enter, and was thus quite surprised when Darcy slipped quietly in and closed the door behind him, clad in his shirtsleeves. Her heart gave a little lurch at the intimacy of his being in her bedroom, and what it might portend, and she clutched her book as if it were a talisman.