He cringed at her final words. Earlier in the hall, he had believed Mrs. Bennet was being her usual ridiculous self when she said Elizabeth disliked him, but his heart sank to hear her only speak of her moral obligation due to his actions. It was painful to hear she did not love him as he loved her.
As I love her? He looked at their still joined hands and knew nothing had ever felt so perfect in his life. Yes, I love her. Straightening a little and with a determined set to his jaw, he mentally added, And I will earn her love as well.
“I am sorry, for your sake, that it is so necessary; that my selfish behaviour made it necessary. I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice. I was taught right and given good principles, but I followed them in pride and conceit. I was allowed and encouraged to become selfish and overbearing, to think meanly of the rest of the world’s sense and worth compared with my own. But I have been humbled by you. I see how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.
“Painful memories of my conduct to you, which merit the severest reproof, will intrude. My actions were unpardonable, and I cannot think of it without abhorrence.”
“William, you must learn some of my philosophy. Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure.” She blushed and dropped her voice but finished her statement. “That night brought me pleasure.” She almost laughed at his reaction. He stared at her with a dumbfounded expression.
Darcy could scarce believe his ears. Pleasure? Did I bring her pleasure that night?
Before he had recovered from his shock, Elizabeth was tugging on his hand. He was only minimally aware that they walked into the house. All during dinner, he was equally affected.
Every time he so much as glanced at her, he felt entranced by her mouth, recalling her thrilling declaration again. He had been affected when she first pronounced his Christian name, but nothing could compare to her pronouncement of pleasure.
It was not just the thought that he had pleased her that threatened to undo him at the dinner table amongst her family. Her mouth had parted enticingly, her delicate pink tongue had flicked up to the top of her mouth. The word made his body shiver as though she caressed him.
Her mouth! Those perfect lips! That tongue! What had it felt like? Being intimately acquainted with his thoughts and fantasies for the last several weeks, he had no delusions that he had indulged in nearly every fantasy he held of Elizabeth. Velvet, he was sure of it. Her tongue would have felt like velvet on his.
He loosened his cravat as he tried to master his thoughts. It would not do to wonder if he had tasted her skin. Even still, some deep carnal drive told him he must do so someday lest he die.
He gave his future mother-in-law some mundane praise for her skills as a hostess. She tittered and fawned with a shrill voice, but it did not affect him in the least. His mind was much more agreeably engaged.
His eyes met Elizabeth’s. What had her fine, bewitching eyes looked like when she took her pleasure?
Undeniably, that was his new favourite word. Was it his imagination, or was Elizabeth colouring quite becomingly under his gaze? Did she meet his eyes with a shy smile? She lightly licked her lips before speaking to Bingley, and Darcy thought he might jump across the table to kiss her.
He did jump when a hand clapped him on his shoulder, and his mind registered Mr. Bennet’s words. “Son, it is time to leave the ladies.”
His voice sounded alien. “Certainly.”
As the door to Mr. Bennet’s library closed, he said to Darcy, “I think that special licence was perhaps a better idea than I first gave you credit for.” It was clearly a reprimand, but Mr. Bennet sounded amused as well.
Darcy wondered why Mr. Bennet would be amused at the need for a special licence when it was because his daughter’s virtue had been stolen. Mr. Bennet had rallied to the point of anger easily enough earlier and acted quickly to purge Wickham from his household.
Darcy’s lust-drugged mind was not to its usual sharpness. Instead, he could only consider it another peculiarity of Elizabeth’s father. They agreed to a wedding in a week’s time as Darcy had business to complete in London and then Pemberley in early December.
As Elizabeth escorted him outside to part for the evening, he leaned in close enough to speak only for her ears. Adorable ears.
“Today was very enjoyable. Might I have the pleasure of calling on you again tomorrow, Elizabeth?”
She blushed but agreed. “The pleasure would be all mine, William.”
As he boarded his coach, one word resounded in his ears to drown out Bingley’s chatter of his angel. Pleasure!
*****
“Lizzy,” Jane said as they readied for bed in their room. “How could you not tell me that you were engaged to Mr. Darcy? If Father had not announced it, I would have thought it quite the joke!”
Elizabeth seemed very uneasy as she spoke. “I have been quite confused and did not know if I should talk about it. He left for Town immediately the morning after we left Netherfield. I had no idea when he would return and speak with Father.”
Jane sensed Elizabeth was annoyed by that fact but hoped to take her mind off of it. “You asked Mr. Bingley about Mr. Darcy on Tuesday. You did seem uncommonly interested in him all of a sudden, but I cannot understand why he proposed so quickly and why you accepted. Tell me all!”
Elizabeth turned red. “Oh, Jane! I hardly know where to begin! But no, I am not interested in Mr. Darcy all of a sudden. I cannot recall a single day where my mind did not wonder about him since our first meeting. He has always roused my interest, although it has taken a positive turn lately.”
Jane sat silently, awaiting more information from her sister. “While at Netherfield, he and I engaged in several debates, and I came to admire the challenge he presented me. As much as I thought he always disapproved then, he treated me like an equal in our discussions. There was no snide superiority like Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst express and call it wit.
“The night before we left, I could not sleep and was looking for a book in the library. Mr. Darcy was there already, and you will not believe what happened next, but I swear it is the utter truth.” Without pausing for Jane to venture a guess, she continued. “He asked me to dance! He even sang so we would have a tune to keep. Jane, he sang ‘The Ash Grove.’”
“The song you sang at Lucas Lodge?”
“Yes!”
“Charlotte and I told you he admired you. His eyes hardly ever stray from you.”
“Yes, I know.” Elizabeth explained about the broken glass. “He assisted me to my door. I could have easily gone on my own, but I admit I enjoyed his nearness very much.” Jane’s eyes widened, but she said nothing.
“But there is more! The next morning after breakfast, we walked in the garden, and he proposed! At first, he tried to explain he felt an obligation, I suppose due to the liberties he took, but he soon admitted he greatly admires me. I refused him at first, but he requested I think about it.”
Elizabeth took a lengthy pause. “He asked again as he handed me into the carriage when we went to leave…and I accepted.”
Jane sat in astonished silence for a moment. “Lizzy, are you quite sure you wish to do this? I know you dislike him. I never thought him so disagreeable as you did, but...”
“You are to remember nothing of the sort! Perhaps I did not always like him so well as now, but that is all to be forgot. A good memory in such instances is unpardonable. I am convinced I should esteem and respect him.”
“But are you quite sure you feel for him what you ought? If he admires you, think of the misery of such unequal affections!”
“Indeed, I am quite convinced. I cannot explain it. I know it sounds as if I have taken leave of my senses, but I find I very much admire Mr. Darcy.”
“If that is the case, then I wish you joy!” She tightly embraced Elizabeth. “Can you believe we are to marry the best of friends?”
Elizabeth laughed. “It entirely escaped my notice! I am extre
mely grateful to not have to deal with Mr. Collins’ attentions. I would have wished Mama had been calmer in her reaction to the news of our betrothal.”
Jane sat back. “I do not think Mr. Darcy even noticed! He seemed quite enamoured as he stared at you all night!”
Elizabeth blushed, and Jane laughed until Elizabeth returned the tease. “And just where were you and Mr. Bingley while we walked in the garden?”
Jane turned bright red. “We were…talking.”
Elizabeth gave her a knowing smile. “Of course you were.”
Jane shook her head. “Oh, I am so happy. My dearest sister will marry my husband’s best friend. We are both betrothed for affection, and our mother need not worry about being thrown into the hedgerows.”
The two sisters soon went to bed. Jane could only wonder at Elizabeth’s granting Darcy so many liberties that he felt obligated to propose…and yet, she could not deny the temptation she felt with her betrothed.
Chapter Six
Darcy peered outside the window of his bedchamber at Netherfield. More rain. Three whole days of blasted rain.
It was positively unbearable. Bingley’s sisters, as disgruntled as they were about hosting the ball, were working themselves into a frenzy, becoming quite cross with everyone and everything. Bingley was entirely put out by not being able to visit Longbourn. Darcy’s feelings were mixed.
He longed to see Elizabeth. He had always found the greatest satisfaction just gazing at her. Of course, he also enjoyed their banter and debates. It could hardly be a surprise that he was captivated by a woman who could match him so completely in a game of wits.
But he was in no better state of control over his distraction in her presence than before; if anything, it was worse. During the dinner at Longbourn, he was rather improper and entertained decidedly lascivious thoughts. In front of Elizabeth’s family! Oh, her father knew, he certainly knew, but at least he had accepted a hasty wedding. Darcy had to own it was the most enjoyable evening he had ever passed in the presence of the Bennet family…certainly one way to cope with them!
But his feelings were more than that now. He appreciated her feminine charms from nearly their first meeting. He valued her mind and respected her opinion from their first interaction. He loved all of those things about her. But now he knew he loved the complete her. Holding her hand, even the one memory he had of her being in his arms, brought contentment and peace. And it astonished him.
He chuckled. Truly, it should come as no surprise. Elizabeth never ceased to amaze and enliven. She awoke feelings he believed either long dead or never extant. Why not love?
How could I have thought it anything but love and not some vague inclination? I feel—he could not find the correct word in his vocabulary—incomplete without her was as near as he could come.
Darcy was a man in love, but his thoughts could not stray far from the idea of the intimate acts he had engaged in with Elizabeth. How he hated not being able to recall anything beyond the moment she entered the library and one flash of an embrace. He knew he had been sorely tempted to kiss her. Had he?
He knew what his usual fantasies included. He had never been intimate with a woman before, but several had tried to seduce him; he found it entirely abhorrent. In as much as his dreams of Elizabeth always ended with carnal pleasure, they never began that way. He could never imagine Elizabeth behaving like a seductress—at least before marriage.
Recalling his favourite fantasy while Elizabeth stayed at Netherfield, he had no doubt that it was one source for his loss of control that fateful night. Seeing Elizabeth in the library must have contributed to his undoing. He indulged himself in the day dream once more.
Elizabeth walked into the library wearing only her night-clothes, her tempting hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. His fingers itched to hold her silky strands. She did not notice him and began to peruse the shelves, walking closer to the dimming firelight and candles near the mantelpiece. She wore decidedly fewer layers for the night than daytime, and he could see her legs through her dressing gown. Such tempting legs! Strong from her walking and dancing; he was certain her skin would be the softest thing he ever touched. Suddenly feeling parched, he took a large gulp of his brandy. When he set the glass down on the table, the thud alerted her to his presence.
“Oh!” she cried in alarm, then seemed to calm when she recognised him.
“Miss Bennet.” He acknowledged her with a nod and shamelessly allowed his gaze to take in the whole length of her body. She blushed.
“Mr. Darcy,” she whispered.
“Are you in need of diversion?” he asked, thinking he would love to divert her for the entire night.
“Yes,” she said, sounding uncomfortable. Then her eyes took on the teasing glint he loved so much. “I would ask you to suggest a volume, but I doubt you can offer any entertainment and certainly nothing I have not already experienced.”
He smiled rakishly, but she had looked away. “Is that a challenge, Miss Bennet?”
She returned her eyes to him and arched an eyebrow. “My father has given me free access to his library. I have read a great many things.”
“Hmm...,the usual histories and poetry, I am sure.” He intentionally baited her.
She replied sharply, “Mr. Darcy, do you think we do not have booksellers here and never visit London? Or perhaps you mean to say I am too unintelligent to understand satire?”
He loved the shade of green her eyes took on when provoked and passionate; their fiery expression engrossed him. London society taught women to not express feelings, to feign disinterest in everything, and appear to agree with everything a man of wealth said. Elizabeth’s many pert opinions, given with a mixture of sharpness and sweetness, were intoxicating.
“Never, madam.”
“I confess I love a good novel. Unfortunately, there are several I would rather mock. If I were ever to write my own satire, I would place a gentleman in the role of the obedient Pamela, resisting her master’s seduction. Men are not taught to resist those charms.”1
“You think all men the same? We all succumb to lust or temptations of fortune?”
“If you would resist the rank and fortune of titled ladies, are you in search of a Pamela?”
“No. I do value virtue and modesty, but I hope I do not need to be reformed by them. I do admire her for adhering to her values and keeping her self-respect, even when she loved the faulted hero. But I wish for more than that in a wife.”
He stepped even closer to her and looked into her eyes. “I want a woman who can match me intellectually and defend her opinions. I do not want timidity, and I am sick of deference.” He paused and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “I find I admire impertinence and a lively mind very much these days.”
Elizabeth gasped at the contact but bravely spoke. “And would you be Pamela? You would refuse the trappings of wealth and security?”
He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I would for a Lizzy.”
He pulled back and was pleased to see Elizabeth’s face flush, her eyes looking a shade darker and her breath rapid.
She shook her head and pushed him away with hands against his chest. “No, you would be like Mr. Bountiful after all and attempt a seduction! You must find it works on all the country maidens.”
He fixed his eyes on her. “Elizabeth, I am no Mr. Bountiful. I would only offer myself to the one I intend to marry.”
Her breath hitched, and she seemed to search his soul for the truth. Then she took up his hand and gently kissed it. His heart pounded in his ears; he thought it would burst from his chest. “As would I.”
He pulled her to him, and she came willingly, remarkably pliant in his arms. He kissed her with deep, passionate kisses and ran his hands over her enticing body. After what was a curious mix of eternity and the flash of a second, he tugged on her hand, pulling her towards the door.
Breathlessly, he said, “Come with me?”
“Yes, anywhere.” He opened the door…
<
br /> It was then that the library door did open, and Elizabeth walked in, the scene so very similar to his fantasy. But Darcy knew whatever happened that evening could not have been like his fantasy. He could never be so eloquent. And on such subjects! Nor would he have offered Elizabeth marriage, however much he wished to. He was absolutely certain it did not proceed in that way. No, Elizabeth had been hesitant to accept his offer of marriage in the garden instead of acting as though he had already made one.
Or had he? He could think of no other explanation for her succumbing to his seduction. And simply arguing that in his right mind he would never propose was insufficient. In his right mind, he would never have stolen her virtue in the first place, and he had long since come to accept he had done so. He was most definitely not in his sober and right mind at the time.
It also means she did not accept me entirely out of obligation, then. Her refusal the next day must have been due to confusion, and as I did not dwell on affection and mentioned only duty, her pride must have been hurt.
He smirked a little. Perhaps it had been quite like his fantasy; he was able to talk to Elizabeth openly and had proved sufficiently charming. He puffed out his chest. He could do that, for her. Just be amiable and...tolerant. Yes, tolerating her family’s behaviour was the best he could promise, although thinking of her tempting lips proved distracting enough from the indecorum of the Bennets the other night.
Once on the subject of Elizabeth’s lips, his thoughts flowed in their usual stream until it was time to dress for dinner.
*****
Bingley prowled his library like a caged animal. The rain separating him from Jane imprisoned him in the house, creating his own personal hell. His sisters worked themselves into a frenzy over the ball, his brother-in-law consoled himself with increasing amounts of drink, and Darcy stared into space with a small smile on his lips. He wondered if the world had turned upside down if Darcy was the besotted man, smiling too much while he grumbled over every detail.
A Sense of Obligation Page 7
