Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
About the Author
Also by Ginny Stevens
Darcy and Elizabeth:
Nights at Netherfield
A Pride and Prejudice Intimate
Ginny Stevens
Darcy and Elizabeth: Nights at Netherfield
A Pride and Prejudice Intimate
Ginny Stevens
Published by Ginny Stevens
© 2017 Ginny Stevens
All Rights Reserved.
Chapter One
“Miss Elizabeth Bennet,” the butler announced as he led Elizabeth into the breakfast room where Mr. Bingley and the others were eating.
In an instant, Elizabeth understood the feelings of everyone. Miss Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst instantly held her in contempt. Elizabeth’s petticoat was at least six inches deep in mud, and she knew her gown did not cover it. Undoubtedly, her hair was blowsy, and her cheeks flushed from the exertion. For all his sisters’ displeasure at her appearance, Mr. Bingley seemed genuinely happy. Meanwhile, Mr. Hurst focused entirely on his breakfast. That left only Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy who had said she was merely tolerable and not handsome enough to tempt him to a mere dance — as if she would even wish for that let alone anything more from such an arrogant man — would certainly find her more offensive to look at now than upon their first meeting. Elizabeth’s eyes flicked to the gentleman, expecting to see disgust in his eyes.
Instead, her gaze collided with his blue orbs looking at her not in dislike but....interest? No, far, far more than interest. The intensity shining from them stole her breath, and her pulse quickened. In her twenty years, no worshipful stare from an awkward, gangly youth across the ballroom, no leer from an aging gentleman, and no appreciative glance from a shopkeeper ever thrilled her the way Mr. Darcy’s looking at her now did. Goose bumps pimpled her flesh, and she simultaneously felt her skin flush.
“Come, you are overtired from your journey, Miss Elizabeth,” said Miss Bingley, tearing Elizabeth’s attention away from the soulful eyes which captured her. “I will show you to your sister, and you may rest as well.”
Her head still spinning from the confusion of discovering Mr. Darcy evidently admired her, and even more that she desired his good opinion, Elizabeth followed Miss Bingley to Jane’s room.
“Oh, Lizzy!” Jane rasped upon Elizabeth’s entry.
“Do not speak, dearest. Rest your voice,” Elizabeth rushed to Jane’s bedside. “Here, a fresh glass of water,” she said as she poured from the pitcher.
Jane took the drink and winced as the refreshment trickled down her throat. Elizabeth wrinkled her brow and placed her hand on Jane’s perspiring forehead. Disliking its heat, she tsked unhappily to herself then turned her head toward Miss Bingley who was exiting.
“Could I request more water, a basin, and towels?”
“Of course,” Miss Bingley said with a tight smile denoting she disliked the request. “I will station a maid in here as well should you need anything else.
“Thank you for your hospitality,” Elizabeth said, returning her gaze to Jane and hearing the door softly close.
Elizabeth cared little if Miss Bingley felt such requests beneath her. Jane rested uncomfortably for the few moments until a maid appeared with the necessary supplies. Then Elizabeth set to bathing her dearest sister’s brow to draw the fever down.
After breakfast, Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst joined Elizabeth in watching over Jane. They doted on Jane so much as to make Elizabeth see their good qualities. When the clock struck three, Elizabeth mentioned she should leave to return home, however much she would rather stay with Jane.
“Oh, yes, the time has simply flown by!” Miss Bingley said with a yawn. “Allow me to call for the carriage, Miss Eliza.”
Elizabeth inwardly cringed at Caroline’s poor manners and ability to say her name with an expression like she smelled something foul in the air. “I would hate to put you out.”
“It is no trouble at all, is it sister?”
“Oh, no. Absolutely no trouble,” Mrs. Hurst echoed her younger sister. “We have more than enough horses to spare for the carriage.”
Elizabeth swallowed her pride and gave the sisters a false smile. “Thank you. If you will just allow me to say goodbye to Jane,” she turned and wiped her sister’s brow again. “I am going now, dearest.”
Jane’s eyes fluttered open. “Leaving? And so soon?” Anxiety fluttered in her eyes. “Thank you for coming. I am sure I will soon be well and well-tended too.”
“Are you sure you will be well?” Elizabeth gazed at her sister again.
“Y— yes,” Jane insisted, but the tone of her voice belied her feelings. “I worry about you, walking so far.”
“You sweetest thing, worry not. Our good friends have offered their carriage. You must not worry about my strength.”
“Are you certain? You have tended to me all afternoon and have not rested at all. I would hate for you to grow ill—”
“My dear Miss Bennet,” Mrs. Hurst interrupted, “might we save you both the anxiety of fearing for one another’s health? Your sister may stay here until you are well.”
“Oh no, I could not possibly—” Elizabeth shook her head.
“Nonsense. It shall all be arranged. We will send a servant for your things,” Miss Bingley nodded to the maid who quickly left to see to her tasks.
Mr. Bingley’s sisters remained until five o’clock and then retired to dress and have their hair styled by their maids. At half past six, Elizabeth was summoned to dinner and was pleased to see Jane rested, at last. During the meal, Elizabeth was pleased with the concern all displayed for Jane. In Mr. Bingley’s words, she heard even more than concern. Elizabeth saw all the eagerness she supposed a young lover could have for the health of the woman upon all his happiness fixed. Soon, though, his sisters fixated upon a conversation with Mr. Darcy, and all mention of Jane passed from their mind. His eyes were often on her, causing her so much confusion that the moment the meal was finished, she returned to check on Jane.
Jane slumbered restlessly. The fever still burned her brow, and she tossed her head from side to side while murmuring of Mr. Bingley. Some of the endearments that flowed from Jane’s lips made Elizabeth blush. She had not thought Jane so far gone in love as this. At length, she believed it indelicate to hear more of Jane’s fevered imaginings and also feared it would offend her hosts to remain above stairs any longer. She only hoped Darcy would cease staring at her in the way that heated her skin.
When Elizabeth rejoined the others, she found them at a card game. Although offered to be dealt in, she declined. They were far richer than she. The kinds of wagers they made would be her pin money for months. Not that she currently had any at all. Her youngest sister, Lydia, had “borrowed” a substantial amount last June for her birthday and five months later it was still not repaid.
Elizabeth selected a book to read and surprisingly, the first criticism came from Mr. Hurst who could not fathom preferring reading over cards. Caroline would not be outdone for the position of rudest member of the party, however, and pretended to observe that Elizabeth was a great reader and had no enjoyment in anything else. Elizabeth could hardly fathom how she would make such an impression upon Caroline. In truth, Elizabeth preferred activity, sometimes strenuous activity. She never felt more alive than when her blood was rushing through her veins, and her chest was heaving as she pushed herself to race up
Oakham Mount faster than before. Elizabeth coolly put the woman off. She deserved neither such censure nor such praise.
Such conversation soon turned to reading and libraries in general. According to Caroline, Mr. Darcy had a superb one at his house in Derbyshire. Throughout the discussion, Elizabeth’s eyes were continuously drawn to the table. Since his arrival in Hertfordshire, Darcy had frequently hovered on the edge of her conversations and stared at her from across rooms. She had always supposed it was in disdain. Now, it seemed to be something else. Caroline noticed as well and redirected Darcy’s attention back to herself as often as possible.
Before she knew what she had done, Elizabeth closed her book and scooted her chair nearer the card table. Caroline steered the conversation to Darcy’s sister and asking if she had grown much.
Unexpectedly, Darcy’s gaze turned to Elizabeth and instead of the fleeting but intense glance she had seen all night he held her eyes before allowing his to take in her frame. A slight smile curved his lips as he met her eyes again. Simultaneously laying down a trump card, he answered the lady’s question. “She is about Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s height, or rather taller.”
“I cannot wait to see her again! No young lady has ever delighted me as much as she! Such good manners and so extremely accomplished for her age!”
During the following argument about accomplished ladies, Elizabeth held Darcy’s attention. The thrill of his listening to her words and debating her opinion like an intelligent adult excited her nearly as much as the flame in his eyes every time he turned from another to her. She still could not name the sentiment, perhaps he had moved from dislike to loathing, but she continued to provoke him simply to see the fire spark in them again and again. When Mr. Hurst called them back to order, Elizabeth found herself mourning the loss of brilliant blue eyes upon her person, measuring her and finding her far more than tolerable.
Uncomfortable with her feelings, and desiring to check on Jane, Elizabeth returned to her sister’s chamber. Jane had soaked through her gown and Elizabeth helped refresh her. After some time of attempting to goad her to eat and bathing her brow with cool water to no improvement, Elizabeth made her way downstairs to inform her host. Knowing it would be a long night, she lingered on her journey and allowed her limbs to feel the relief from sitting for so long. Finally, she found Mr. Bingley and the others in the drawing room. Upon hearing Elizabeth’s news of Jane’s situation, they were all concerned. Bingley desired to send for the apothecary immediately, and his sisters suggested fetching a doctor from London.
“That will not be necessary, I thank you. However, if you would like to call for Mr. Jones in the morning, I feel Jane ought to be looked at then.”
Bingley agreed, although again suggested to send for the man now rather than waiting. Elizabeth resisted his good-natured persistence and bade them all good night. Barely stirring a nod from his sisters’ heads, and Mr. Hurst had long ago fallen asleep, she was surprised to hear Darcy’s voice near her ear. He must have silently crept up on her.
“I wish your sister very well, Miss Elizabeth. You should take care as well. Do not sit up all night and risk your own health.”
His low voice sent chills through her body, and his breath tickled her ear. The heat of his body radiated around her. “Thank you,” Elizabeth nodded and fled from the room.
Returning to Jane’s chambers, she kept watch over her sister until very late. She had long ago heard the others go to bed. Jane, at last, seemed to sleep deeply. Elizabeth stretched her back and then crept to the door. Although it was late and she had previously walked to the house, her body was not yet weary from the lack of activity later in the day. Nor would her mind allow her to rest. The day had worn on her nerves considerably. She had worried over Jane, of course, but she had not taken account for the stress of being in a home where most residents viewed her as only an intruder. Then there was Mr. Darcy…
Elizabeth shook her head as she approached the drawing room intent on collecting the volume she had earlier began. Mr. Darcy might have emotions other than coldness and disdain, but it did not mean he could ever be for her. Miss Bingley had done enough to exemplify the distance between them. His wealth and prestige were far beyond her reach, however much his intelligence and willingness to debate and challenge her intrigued. They might be qualities that would compliment each other quite well, but it would be the height of foolishness to consider Mr. Darcy a potential suitor.
Opening the door, she continued her thoughts. Mr. Darcy was...tall, broad, masculine. She pushed the thought aside. Devilishly handsome, her unhelpful mind suggested. Thrilling her traitorous heart submitted for consideration before skipping at an accelerated rate.
No! Elizabeth exclaimed to herself. Mr. Darcy was…
Looking at her.
Chapter Two
Darcy’s mouth went dry as the enchantress walked into the drawing room. Since she arrived earlier in the day with her hair windblown and cheeks flushed all he could think about was how he had never desired a woman more. She looked as though she had been freshly tumbled. The brightness of her eyes told of a woman who enjoyed the exertion and craved more.
The physical lure to Elizabeth did not surprise Darcy. He had felt it since his first night in the area. Bingley had pressured him to dance, and he had something cold and off-putting not realizing the lady heard everything he said. As she walked away, his eyes took in the feast she offered. A generous swell for her bosom and thankfully no modest neckline. The sway of her curved hip held the promise of a bottom ripe for grabbing to pull her closer to his groin. As she danced later, he understood the strength of her lean legs he desired to have wrap around his waist as he pumped into her, giving them both bliss.
As enticing as she was, he shoved his carnal desires aside. His duty to the Darcy line meant he needed to think of ladies with his head, not his cock. Despite the many offers, he had shunned experiences with women of the night and widows alike. His decision was based off many factors. Firstly, in a world where they were surrounded by servants at all times, privacy was nearly impossible. Secondly, it opened a man up to blackmail. He could not allow that. He had enough to worry about with his father’s godson. As it happened, Darcy could never be sure any potential lover who approached him wasn’t set on him by Wickham. An additional factor was his sister’s innocence. She revered him like a father, and he would not break her innocence. If he took a lover, it would wait until after she was married and could not be harmed by his reputation or her sensibilities shattered by his failures. And he most definitely saw giving into sexual impulses as a failure.
Darcy’s final reason for rejecting meaningless sexual encounters was one he blushed to admit to himself. In a small recessed corner of his heart, he believed in love. He had seen the affection of his parents and contrasted it with the cold union of his other relatives. Even the coldness could not mask his aunts’ embarrassment when they saw their husband’s mistresses, or it was spoken of to them. They may never have loved their spouses or had expected fidelity, but they surely did not expect degradation. Some day, he would marry and wished to treat his wife with the respect she deserved, and he would like for himself. If he were very fortunate, they would even come to love each other.
What precisely romantic love felt like, Darcy had not the faintest clue. He was no stranger to physical temptation and had overcome that. Surely the sort of foolish fancy or weak softness he saw his friend Bingley often exhibit was not stronger than the desire to touch a woman’s skin, to taste her flesh, to feel her scent. If he could repress sexual urges then how could he hope to be aware of falling in love? He would likely trample upon that sentiment as well and be the cold-hearted bastard too many men — and no small amount of disappointed women — believed he was.
As Elizabeth silently and slowly walked through the drawing room, she seemed to be having some argument with herself. She would sometimes shake her head or sigh. Once he thought he might have heard his name. She certainly did not see him in the corne
r of the expansive room where the shadows were the darkest.
He knew he ought to announce himself, but he admired watching Elizabeth from afar. He had no intention of speaking with her. In his experience, beautiful ladies never had a brain in their head. All the intelligent ones — even if it leaned more along the side of narcissistic such as Caroline Bingley — did not stir his primal urges. However, as he watched he noted her companions always smiled and genuinely laughed at her words. He witnessed caring behavior and real friendship. Such a lady was rare in the world, and he drew towards her like a moth to a flame.
As he hovered on the periphery of Elizabeth’s conversations, he discovered her wit. The lady loved to harmlessly tease. It was a sign of affection, really. She spoke intelligently and did not agree with everything her betters said. Nor did she seek to ensnare him. She had refused to dance with him at a neighbor’s house.
Tonight, her eyes sparked while they debated accomplished ladies. She seemed to be more aware of him, and his attention. Darcy lacked the strength to put an end to his admiration. She beguiled him. She was too many contradictory things at once, turning everything he thought he knew about the opposite sex on its head. For example, if he had complimented book reading while Caroline held a book she would have supposed he was on the cusp of proposing. Elizabeth seemed to not notice his intent or even to believe he mocked her. As if he cared about modern languages and embroidery in a wife!
Elizabeth new drew very close and then suddenly stopped. She took in a sharp breath. “Mr. Darcy!” She exclaimed and held a hand to her chest.
“Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy nodded his head. It was impossible to stand without revealing his erection. “Forgive me, I had not meant to frighten you.”
“I am not afraid of you,” she said with a smile. “You might have announced yourself…” She trailed off as her eyes took in his attire. She flushed and visibly swallowed. “Oh. I will leave you to your peace.”
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