A Sense of Obligation

by Rose Fairbanks

  “I will not give you up for my sister!”

  The thought brought more pain to Jane. It seemed they continued to be alike. Both loved each other more than their siblings. “And your parents? They planned great things for you, did they not? You cannot disappoint them.”

  “You are worth it.”

  Jane shook her head. No, he is too amiable for his own good.

  Bingley took her hands in his. “Your parents will be disappointed if we do not wed.”

  Jane’s heart seized. Another point on which they were similar. He brought her chin up to meet his eyes.

  “We deserve our own happiness. Mine resides with you. If it will truly make you happy to break our engagement, I will honour your request.” Tears shimmered in his eyes, and he visibly swallowed. “Tell me you wish to walk away from your own feelings and not out of fear for myself.”

  Jane was mesmerised by his eyes. She could see the pain she was causing him. How selfish of her! It would ruin him forever if she jilted him. Society would mock them, and it may give them heartache, but from that they could recover. Denying their love would be of the greatest sins, she was sure. She shook her head. “No, I want you, Charles. I do.”

  His lips crushed hers, and he pulled her in for a tight embrace. “You have me, Jane.”

  The kisses were different from what they experienced before. A desperation hung on them. His hands roamed her body, and she had no desire for it to cease. This was to be her life. This man, this feeling. Perhaps it was sensible to deny it, but she was helpless. She craved his love and desired to show him her complete trust and adoration. The sounds of the ball outside the walls of the library grew quieter as the room filled with her pants and moans.

  Chapter Eight

  Darcy saw Elizabeth dash towards the door. He glared Mrs. Bennet and found fault with Mr. Bennet as well. Their inaction and folly were causing his Elizabeth pain, and the master of Pemberley was not pleased. So much for tolerance.

  The evening had started so well. He was in high spirits, buoyed by his belief that all Elizabeth needed to fall in love with him was for him to be open, instead of reserved, and tolerant of her family. He began well enough. She seemed charmed by his behaviour, and he managed to find amusement in the idea of so many of the area’s gentlemen having desired her that they were sufficiently motivated by guilt from Mr. Black’s sermon to offer for her. He was glad she would soon be away from so many admirers, even if it was likely to happen everywhere she went.

  He enjoyed her teasing wit during their first dance, and he exacted his revenge, unknown to her, when he reminded himself of her speaking the word pleasure. It was a little ridiculous how that one word from her perfect mouth could lift his spirits to such a degree, but if three dances was the price to pay for it, she was worth that and more.

  Not that he would ever regret dancing with Elizabeth. He was not given to levity, and although he excelled at dancing—the product of having the best masters—it was difficult for him to be lively or to find any pleasure in most of his partners. But Elizabeth was life personified. How could he not enjoy himself when Elizabeth was his partner? Her beautiful smile and sparkling eyes, meeting his as they hopped and skipped around the dance floor, could lift the foulest of moods. He tried not to think about the memories in which he would later indulge, of Elizabeth’s pleasing bosom as she jumped and turned in time to the music, about how much he enjoyed seeing her face flush from the exercise and hearing her gasp to catch her breath. How he imagined the delights of other activities causing similar reactions in the future. Now was certainly not the time for such thoughts.

  He disliked Mrs. Bennet’s innuendo that Elizabeth had ensnared him using some kind of design or trickery and was angered that Mr. Bennet did nothing to still his wife’s tongue. It would not do for gossip to emerge that Elizabeth had drawn him in with her arts and allurements. He was pleased to hear instead that most sensible people had seen how he often stared at her and now, at least, interpreted his gaze as admiration.

  The balcony was dark, with fewer lanterns than the front of the house, and it was a moonless night due to the clouds. He called out, “Elizabeth?”

  Silence greeted him. He tried again, a note of panic edging into his voice. It was quite cold, and the air was still moist from the recent rain. Elizabeth wore only her thin ball gown, and he feared she would be chilled quickly. He attempted to scan the garden below but could make nothing out. He pressed forward anyway; she might be walking to relieve her tension. He found her not far from the house, on the very bench where he first proposed to her. Or was it the second proposal?

  “Elizabeth, darling. You will grow chilled. Your mother will be beside herself with worry over an ill bride.”

  She met his eyes, and he saw she had been crying. His heart ached to see such a sad expression on her beautiful face.

  “Yes, let us return, then. It would not do for you to jilt me because I am unwell.”

  She attempted to rise, but he stayed her by squeezing her shoulder. “Jilt you? Elizabeth, what can you mean?”

  She could not suppress a rueful laugh. “Mama is beside herself with worry these last few days that if we do not marry on Friday, you will not have me at all.”

  Darcy scowled. “And is that your fear as well?” His voice had a hard edge.

  She turned her eyes back to him and answered with obvious sincerity. “No, I would never doubt your honour.”

  Releasing his breath, Darcy sat on the bench next to her. His broad shoulders grazed hers, and their thighs nearly touched. She shivered, and he shrugged off his jacket to offer her the warmth. He was struck by how small she was and how much he desired to protect her. As much as it would soon be his duty to do so, it would be a profound honour as well.

  She spoke softly. “You know that is what Mr. Wickham was attempting to say in the drawing room the other day—that you dishonoured your father’s will—but I could not believe him.”

  He squeezed her hands where they were clasped together on her lap. “Thank you, Elizabeth. Few see Wickham for the scoundrel he is, though I am not surprised that you did, given your intelligence. I will tell you of my history with him someday. For now, you need only know that he will not trouble us again. You do me credit by believing in my honour so implicitly.”

  “You should not attempt to flatter me, sir. We know I have been mistaken in my first impressions before.”

  Her statement confused him, but he remained silent.

  “His other declaration was that you are engaged to your cousin, Anne.” His face darkened, but she stared at their hands and would not look at him. “I...I did not believe him on that either or Mr. Collins when he said the same. But I am reminded of the words you spoke here, how you felt it your duty to offer me marriage due to our...indiscretion. That it was demanded of your honour. Miss de Bourgh sounds your equal in circumstance and wealth. Your families must have long cherished the hope of your union. And whom will you bring them instead? A country gentleman’s daughter with connections in trade? Vulgar relations? Tonight, we have seen just how ridiculously vulgar they are. I know you would not break your promise if it was bound elsewhere, but be truthful. You did not wish for this marriage.”

  She sounded so bitter, so sad, and so hopeless. Darcy was at a loss how to reassure her. He sensed there was so much else she worried about beyond the complaints she admitted.

  He lifted her face to look at him. “My supposed engagement to Anne is nothing but the fanciful wish of her mother; it was never mine or Anne’s. I am ashamed to learn it is so openly circulated, and you had the misfortune to hear it. Do you not recall that I declared here on this very spot that I do not wish for a marriage based only on rank and wealth? Did I not tell you how you captivate me? Almost since the first moment of our acquaintance?”

  Her tears came anew, and he knew not what to do besides offer his handkerchief. She cried silently for a few minutes, then seemed to have reached some kind of decision. She dried her eyes and stood.


  “Come, sir. My partner will be looking for me, and we must have you dance as well.”

  “Elizabeth, no. There is not another woman in the room…”

  “Whom it would not be a punishment to stand up with?”

  Darcy furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “How did you know I intended to speak those words?”

  Elizabeth answered with a sly smile and tugged on his hand. “Come, William. I am certain we can find at least one other lady handsome enough to tempt you. Several of them are now engaged, as are you, and can have no designs upon you. Surely they must prove tolerable and certainly are not slighted by other men.”

  She attempted to pull him along, but he resisted. “Elizabeth?”

  She turned and looked at him but said nothing.

  “Elizabeth, did you...that is…” His throat squeezed tight. She had heard him, every word, at the first assembly and clearly took it quite to heart. He directed her back to the bench, and she was surprisingly compliant.

  He cleared his throat. There was only one thing to do. “May I ascertain from your words that you heard me speaking to Bingley at the Meryton Assembly?”

  Elizabeth merely nodded.

  “And I take it by your manner that you have convinced yourself I found you wanting?”

  A flash of anger crossed her face. “How could I be mistaken, sir? You slighted the whole room and me in particular.” She sat down, clearly angry.

  He started to pace, tugged on his cravat, and muttered, “Devil take it!”

  Willing himself to be calm, he looked at her as he leant against a tree. “Bingley wanted me to dance, and I knew I ought to, but I simply did not wish it. I was...badly out of spirits for reasons I will tell you someday soon, and I believed I could act as I chose in a room where I was unknown, had no acquaintances, and was superior in standing. I did not expect reproach. I do find it hard to make new acquaintances; it is a punishment for me to talk with them. I cannot catch their tone of conversation, and when I do speak, I cannot appear interested in their concerns. I cannot make my face appear open and genial. Dancing with a stranger is a particular ordeal.”

  She looked at him in disbelief.

  “Elizabeth, how many times did you notice me near you and listening to your conversations?”

  “Very often.”

  “And did I seem pleased?”

  She laughed. “You rarely seem pleased by anything.”

  “This is what I mean! Nearly everything you say delights me. Everything you do delights me.” He pushed off the tree and approached her, crouching before the bench. “Your every look delights me.”

  She blushed and tried to demur, but he would not have it. “I am sorry, Elizabeth. I did not think how others might feel due to my actions. I am uncomfortable in company, and I do know it gives offence, but I manage to smooth my way later, most of the time, should I wish it. But I never considered how my actions and my words would affect you. I only intended to persuade Bingley to leave me alone. It was horribly selfish. Please, please, forgive me.”

  “William, there is no need to forgive you. You are entitled to your opinions.” He immediately stood and pulled her up with him.

  “Exasperating woman! Did I wound your vanity so thoroughly that you will have me tell you again and again how I find you the most handsome woman of my acquaintance? That since the first moment I truly looked at you, I found you very pretty? Must I tell you that each time we met, my attraction and regard deepened? And that it has been driving me to distraction to not do this all evening?”

  With his last words, he engulfed her in his arms and kissed her, most passionately. He kissed her again and again until he elicited the most addictive moans from her. He kissed her until she wrapped her arms around his neck and clung to him. The kiss went on as her fingers, ungloved from dinner, raked through his hair, sending sparks of fire through his body, finally causing him to groan.

  He came to his senses just as he realised he was lifting her off the ground and attempting to carry her, slipping one hand under her firm bottom with every intention of pushing her against a tree for support and allowing his other hand to caress her breast. He certainly did not mean to take it so far, but Elizabeth was everything passionate and responsive.

  Breaking the kiss, he allowed their breathing to settle and the heat to subside in their bodies. Elizabeth blinked, seemingly puzzled as to how they moved from near the bench to the trees before realisation struck. She began to adjust her clothing and pat her hair.

  “You are so beautiful you leave me breathless, darling. You must believe me this time.” He grinned, and she smiled in return.

  Their breathing finally calmed, and they walked towards the house. “William, there was one lady at the assembly you did not slight. You said Jane was the only handsome girl in the room.”

  “It was easier for me to acknowledge her. I could see Bingley instantly besotted and knew he would never push for me to dance with her; I have learned it prudent to pay attention to Bingley’s partners. More than once has one family issued wild speculation on a match with him because of a mere dance; often they are the worst kind of fortune hunters. So I acknowledged she was handsome because she was the only lady I had studied.”

  “You do not mean to say…”

  “No, Elizabeth, I do not mean to imply your sister is mercenary.”

  “Hmm.”

  “Will you not ask me what you truly wish to know?”

  Elizabeth looked up at him, surprised by the mirth in his eyes. “Oh, you think you know?”

  “Of course, I am soon to be your husband. You have confessed to being recalcitrant and headstrong. How could I hope to have an obedient wife if I do not first tell you everything you wish to hear?”

  Elizabeth laughed heartily at such an image of herself. “Very well, sir. Pray, tell me what it is I wish to ask.”

  “When did I first truly look at you and find you pretty?” Her gaze softened, and Darcy was certain he surmised correctly.

  She waited.

  “I have already told you I attend particularly to Bingley’s partners. You danced the sixth with him and were spirited and lively. I could see he found you agreeable, and I acknowledged that I was wrong in my earlier cold pronouncement, when I had not really studied you. You were more than tolerable; you were quite pretty. Then at Lucas Lodge, when Sir William would have us dance, I found myself rather put out when you would not, despite only a moment before being upset by the course of the evening. I have always disliked dancing and had just declared so to Sir William. I was surprised by my inclinations; I thought nothing of it to confess to Miss Bingley that I was meditating on the very great pleasure that your fine eyes and pretty face bestowed, as you quite brought me out of my ill-humour.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “After I refused you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And this is why Miss Bingley dislikes me?” Elizabeth chuckled. They stood outside the doors to the ballroom, the music already playing, and she could see her partner scanning for her. She handed his topcoat back to him.

  Darcy hesitated when she went forward. Did the whole county dislike him due to his conduct that one night?

  “Come along, Evelina. I am certain you can now behave better in a ballroom.”1

  She gave him an arch look, and he burst into laughter. How wonderful to know that his fantasy Elizabeth was so close to the authentic object. She would find a way to cast him as the heroine, and how perfectly fitting that he should be the one who committed a ballroom blunder.

  He could not tell if the looks he received when entering the room were from the surprise of hearing him laugh or from the fact they did not conceal they had been outside together. But he did take her words to heart. Darcy danced with Mary, as well as Elizabeth’s friend, Charlotte Lucas. He searched for Jane but never saw her. Finally, he did his duty and stood up with Mrs. Hurst, and finally, Miss Bingley.

  At first, Miss Bingley seemed to desire to pass the dance in silence, which suited Darcy pe
rfectly. At long last, she spoke with extreme bitterness.

  “I suppose you simply could not help yourself. Men! You are all the same, even you, with all your talk of duty and honour. You will disgrace Pemberley by stooping to that. Are you senseless of the degradation?”

  “That is enough, madam!”

  “You will regret your choice. You will regret being ruled by a moment of infatuation when she cannot make a proper mistress of your home and disgraces your family name. She has not the…”

  “Are you to give me another list of attributes you presume I desire in a wife and that you think you meet?”

  “Well, I am…”

  “The daughter of a tradesman.”

  Caroline turned red in anger and began to refute him but paled upon observing his severe mien. They went down the remainder of the dance in silence, and just after parting, he overheard her asking her sister the whereabouts of their brother.

  “Something about not being able to speak about books in a ballroom. Mrs. Bennet allowed Charles to follow Jane to the library, but I have not seen them in quite some time. I daresay she needed to escape her family’s embarrassing behaviour,” said Mrs. Hurst.

  “How like him! To leave me here with the duties of hostess by myself! Louisa, I have a severe headache. I leave you to announce the final set while I attempt to refresh myself before I must farewell our guests.”

  Darcy walked towards Mr. Bennet to collect Elizabeth. He was surprised to hear Mrs. Hurst call out the waltz-like “Lucy’s Square” instead of the more common Boulanger for the last dance.2 At first, he believed she thought the dance more refined than the Boulanger, but she gave him a sly nod and a wink. It seemed Mrs. Hurst was giving him an early wedding present!

  Leading Elizabeth to the floor, his heart pounded. It was impossible for him to go through the steps and grasp her waist without recalling the feel of her in his arms from their garden interlude. And he thanked the Lord he at last had some memories of touching Elizabeth. She appeared no less affected. Her smile was genuine and her eyes, a mixture of brightness from her joy and softness with affection.