Elizabeth was stunned. Her heart was pounding as she looked up and, for the first time, noticed how beautiful his eyes were, like rich melted chocolate. “Is there something more you need from me, sir? I do not wish to delay your departure any further.”
“Elizabeth,” he breathed, “I must know if you trust what I wrote.”
The intimacy of his calling her by her Christian name was unsettling. “I already assured your cousin that I did. I had assumed that you asked him to discuss it with me, out of a desire not to see me again.” Elizabeth could hardly believe she had said such a thing, and with a tone of hurt in her voice. Why should she care if he never wanted to see her again?
“I did not ask him to do anything of the sort, Miss Bennet, and I do hope to see you again, if you could bear it.” Darcy paused before continuing, “I am glad to hear that you believed what I wrote. I would not want you to return to Hertfordshire under the impression that you could trust Mr. Wickham. If anything happened to you I would never forgive myself.”
“You need have no worries on that account, sir,” replied Elizabeth, her voice shaking. She could hardly conceive that they were having this conversation, and that he was standing incredibly close to her. It was highly improper, but as she tried to back away from him he only tightened his grip.
“Elizabeth,” he said.
“Sir, I must ask that you cease to refer to me in such an informal manner. It is highly improper.”
Darcy was hardly thinking of the rules of propriety at a time like this. Her hand was warm in his and he had an incredibly strong desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her once again. Why was it, even after she had rejected him, he was still so enraptured by her? Indeed, before Elizabeth could break away, he was kissing her again. Once more, out of their own volition, Elizabeth’s arms wound around his neck, and Darcy’s hands slid down to her hips, pulling her closer to him. Torrents of sensation passed through her body as he kissed her. Her heart was pounding against her chest. She could not explain her desire to remain in his arms. It was foreign and strange to her. Still, that he would kiss her again was infuriating.
When he backed away Elizabeth heedlessly struck his face. “Mr. Darcy! How dare you kiss me again! Please leave immediately! I hope that I shall never have to see you again!”
Darcy winced. He was hurt and terribly embarrassed. He knew that he had assumed too much from her blushes and her forgiveness of his supposed cruelty towards Wickham. “I understand fully, Miss Bennet,” he said coldly, returning her glare with one of his own which was frightening in its intensity. “Goodbye then.” And, without another word, he stalked off, supposing that he was doomed to be forever heartbroken.
Two
Darcy returned to the carriage and his waiting cousin, his shoulders slumped in defeat, and his eyes inundated with deep sorrow. When he climbed in beside his cousin, the Colonel glanced at him, shocked to see Darcy showing his emotions so clearly. Not only that but there was an ugly red mark on his cheek. “Good God, Darcy! What on earth happened in there?”
“Nothing,” said Darcy fiercely, attempting, and failing, to mask his raging emotions.
“I am neither blind nor stupid,” said the Colonel. “What happened to your face?”
“Miss Bennet and I quarreled,” he said, upon giving his cousin a look that declared the subject closed.
The Colonel was shocked but knew that now was not the time to try and discuss such personal matters.
Darcy did not speak a word as he seized the reins and quickly urged the horses to take him far away from the woman who had so cruelly broken his heart. He pushed them to the limits of their speed, but after a few miles, the horses slowed, exhausted from the late spring heat.
The Colonel watched his cousin with obvious concern but remained silent on the subject, knowing better than to try to comfort Darcy when he was in one of his rare rages. However, as the horses slowed, he said, attempting an air of light humor, “Now Darcy, what did those poor horses ever do to you to deserve such treatment? At this rate they will collapse upon the ground, and then where would we be?”
“I need to get to London,” snapped Darcy, annoyed with his cousin’s good humor, when he had just had his heart ripped out of his chest.
“We will not get to London if the horses are too exhausted to move. Perhaps I ought to drive for a short time, in order to give the horses a break from their clearly agitated master.”
“I am fine, Richard. I can manage my own horses.”
“Are you quite certain? I had not planned on my life ending due to reckless driving. I had a more glorious death in mind.”
“Of course,” said Darcy, who found himself wishing that he were dead. After a moment though he said, “Perhaps you should drive for a spell.” Then he reluctantly handed the reins to his cousin, who took them with a surprised expression on his face.
“You must be upset if you are allowing me to drive. Are you going to tell me what your quarrel with Miss Bennet was about? She did not seem upset when I left you two alone.”
“No,” said Darcy severely.
“Very well, but you know I will get it out of you eventually. For now I am just relieved that you will not overturn the carriage in your desire to attain breakneck speed. The horses, I am sure, are most grateful as well.”
Darcy scowled at his cousin, and then turned away, having no desire for idle conversation. Elizabeth’s proclamation of her wish to never see him was still booming in his mind. He would never forget the incredible fury that had been in her lovely eyes. No. Strike that. He would never forget anything about Elizabeth Bennet.
***
His first day alone was the worst. Colonel Fitzwilliam departed for some sort of military business as soon as they reached Darcy House. In part, Darcy was relieved to see his cousin go, for it meant that he would not be hassling him for information about Elizabeth. However, Darcy also recognized that he would be left alone with his wretched thoughts until Georgiana arrived the next evening.
Mr. Taylor, the butler, a man in his late forties, immediately took Darcy’s hat and coat, and Darcy ordered for a bottle of his strongest brandy to be brought up from the cellar and delivered directly to his study. Mr. Taylor, of course, would never disobey a direct order, but he thought it unusual for his master to request alcohol so directly upon arrival, and he most certainly was never short with the staff. Still, Mr. Taylor knew that if the master was upset it would pass quickly, for Mr. Darcy was not a man to let frustration linger.
Darcy sank into his chair in his study with a sigh of relief. It was good to be back at Darcy House, for he was certain he could not bear returning to Pemberley without imagining Elizabeth everywhere he went. At least here he could be free of her specter, for he had not vividly imagined her at Darcy House as he had done with Pemberley. Although facing his cold and empty bedroom would certainly be a trial. He hated the fact that he was alone with his sorrow.
Mr. Taylor arrived with the brandy moments later asking if there was anything else that he needed. Darcy dismissed him with a terse, “No, thank you.” Mr. Taylor bowed and quickly disappeared. Darcy felt poorly about his terseness, but his mood did not allow for him to be polite to anyone, no matter who they were. He poured himself a generous portion and gulped it down, hoping that the burning sensation could momentarily liberate him from the sorrow of his heartbreak. However, it was a fool’s dream. He suspected that he would overindulge and awaken the next morning, not only with an aching heart, but a throbbing head. Even that would not keep him distracted for long. It did not matter though. Nothing mattered. His life would be forever empty without Elizabeth, and he would be forever alone. For he was certain he could not marry another knowing what he had lost. He was certain there would never be a Mrs. Darcy.
Darcy attempted to make progress on the business that had piled up during his stay at Rosings, but this too, proved to be a foolish effort. His mind could not be focused on the business affairs he once found interesting. Was this how it was t
o be? Would nothing ever be the same again? He finally resorted to pouring himself another glass of brandy and sitting in a chair beside the fireplace that had been lit prior to his arrival. The heat, however, could not warm his icy heart. As he stared into the flames, drinking far too much, his thoughts kept returning to the fury flashing in Elizabeth’s fine eyes. His hand absentmindedly went to his cheek. He suspected that there would still be a mark in the morning, and fool that he was, he would treasure it; for it was the only thing that Elizabeth had given him. At that pathetic thought he gulped down more brandy.
It was late into the night before he finally dragged himself up to his cold, empty bedroom. How could he ever sleep soundly again knowing that he would never awaken with Elizabeth in his arms?
The alcohol, along with the memory of Elizabeth’s kisses, tainted his dreams that night.
Elizabeth stood before him, smiling shyly, blushing slightly. “William,” she said. “I was a wretched fool to believe Wickham’s lies. Can you ever forgive me?”
Darcy stood paralyzed, wondering how this was possible. He took a few steps towards her wondering if he could touch her without having her vanish into thin air. His voice was ragged, “Of course I can forgive you, as long as you promise never to leave my side.”
“I promise,” she said, as she reached out to him. He took her in her arms and they were kissing as they had done at the parsonage, only now Elizabeth was urging him to go further. Her soft body was intoxicating as it pressed against his, her soft moans begging for a more intimate touch. Darcy was newly inspired and said, “Elizabeth, tell me you want me.” It came out as an unquestionable order and Elizabeth complied, saying the words he was so desperate to hear as she arched herself against him. “Please William,” she murmured.
He was only too happy to comply, but as soon as he began, her body stiffened in his arms. She suddenly broke free of him and stepped out of his reach. “What do you think you are doing, Mr. Darcy?” she cried, her voice echoing with anger.
“I was giving you what I thought you wanted,” he said with clear confusion in his voice.
“I never wanted you, Mr. Darcy. I never will. It is Wickham I love, and it is Wickham that I shall marry!”
“You cannot,” he protested. “He is a monster.”
“No. You are the monster. You stole away his chance for happiness, and now I must be the one to give it back.”
“Elizabeth, please,” he said, moving towards her. The closer he got, the further she backed away. Finally in a desperate move to stop her retreat, he reached forward and seized her wrist.
A glint of wrath sparked in her eyes as she struck him again. This time his head jerked back. She was standing inches from him and said, "I never wish to see you again. I hate you!”
“No,” he shouted. He reached out for her but she suddenly disappeared into thin air.
Darcy awoke drenched with a cold sweat. He threw open the curtains and immediately went to the window, which he flung open for a gulp of fresh air. The sun was just beginning to climb over the horizon. He looked at the clock on the mantel. It was nearly five in the morning. He had gotten a mere two hours of sleep, and his head was pounding. He was suddenly weak from exhaustion and was barely able to stumble back into bed. He had no desire to do anything today, wishing to waste away into the worthlessness that was consuming him. He felt ill, due to too much alcohol as well as his wounded heart. He managed to collapse back into a nightmare filled sleep.
***
The final week of Elizabeth’s visit passed quickly. Elizabeth tried hard to keep up an appearance of happiness, despite the fact that it was far from what she felt. They dined at Rosings twice more, and each time, Elizabeth was assaulted with memories of Mr. Darcy. They discovered Lady Catherine to be highly disturbed by her family’s sudden departure.
She said, on their last visit, “I assure you I feel it exceedingly, I believe nobody feels the loss of friends as much as I do. But I am particularly attached to these young men; and know them to be so much attached to me! They were excessively sorry to go! But so they always are. The dear Colonel rallied his spirits tolerably till just the last; but Darcy seemed to feel it most acutely—more, I think than last year. His attachment to Rosings certainly increases.”
“Who would not feel the loss of such a wonderful place as Rosings?” asked Mr. Collins, in his usual attempt to flatter. “I am sure Miss Bennet and Miss Lucas will feel it most acutely as well!”
“They shall indeed,” agreed Lady Catherine, “and so they must stay longer. I detest the idea of them going to London without so much as a servant. It is most unusual and highly improper.” It was then that Lady Catherine expressed her opinions on all the particulars of their journey. Elizabeth was relieved to be distracted, but this relief was only temporary, for as soon as she was alone, her thoughts once more returned to Mr. Darcy.
To her frustration, thoughts of Darcy had not left her mind since his departure. She acknowledged that she had been cruel in her words and actions, and she did regret striking him, but she could not regret making her dislike of him known. She truly had no desire to see him again, and if Darcy was to return to Hertfordshire for some reason with the intent to court her, she knew not how she could bear it. At least now she was fairly certain that Darcy would never pursue her again. She could regret her cruelty but not the intent behind it. In any case, she did not suspect she would ever see him again. He would not try and reunite Jane and Mr. Bingley, for his pride was too great to admit to his mistakes. For this, she was truly sorry. Jane’s heart would forever remain affected by Bingley, no matter how brave a face she put on and her insistence that she had moved on. Darcy was to blame for this. His selfishness was unmatched by any other man of her acquaintance.
While she truly had excused him of severity towards Mr. Wickham, she could forgive him for nothing else. His dealings with Mr. Wickham earned her sympathies and forgiveness but could do no more. Loving him, as he desired, was impossible and she was glad that he had left Rosings abruptly.
Still, if she was glad for his absence, why was it that every night she remembered the sensations of his kisses, and, upon this remembrance, part of her was disappointed that he would never kiss her again. These thoughts were treacherous though, and her physical response to him did not mean that she cared for Darcy in the slightest.
She was relieved that she too would leave Rosings the following day. Perhaps when she did, thoughts of Darcy would disappear all together. Then she would be reunited with her dear Jane and she could perhaps seek counsel from her Aunt Gardiner, without, of course, revealing the improper dealings that had passed between Mr. Darcy and herself.
The following day, the Collinses saw their guests off. Before they departed, Charlotte pulled Elizabeth aside, for she had been exceedingly worried about her dear friend. “Lizzy, I must know, did something happen between you and Mr. Darcy? You have not been the same since he left so suddenly.”
“I can assure you, Charlotte, that there is nothing between Mr. Darcy and myself, and there will never be anything. I am merely homesick.”
“Are you certain?” asked Charlotte dubiously, who had noticed from the beginning Mr. Darcy’s interest in her friend.
“Of course. It was a pleasure to see you again. The parsonage is lovely. I shall miss you. I hope you will continue to write to me.”
Charlotte recognized that her friend was keeping something from her, but there was no point in trying to discover it, as she would not see her again for a long time. “Goodbye Lizzy. I hope you have a pleasant summer.” The two friends embraced each other, and Charlotte and Mr. Collins waved them away.
When the carriage set off Maria cried, “So much has happened! We have dined nine times at Rosings, besides drinking tea there twice! How much I shall have to tell.”
“And how much I shall have to conceal,” thought Elizabeth absently. She was barely cognizant of her replies to Maria as the journey progressed. Her thoughts were very much distracted by a cert
ain gentleman. The harder she tried to get him out of her head, the more persistent he was to remain.
***
Darcy had decided that forgetting Elizabeth Bennet was impossible; for he was certain that he would be forever haunted by her lingering presence in his mind. Instead, he threw himself into his work. He met constantly with his London solicitor and other business associates. At least his enthusiasm for his work could temporarily distract him from his unpleasant thoughts. When he was not working, he was at the fencing academy working up a good sweat. Physical exertion served to prolong his distraction.
Yet, every night, he was alone, and thoughts and dreams of Elizabeth always returned to him. They were always the same. Elizabeth would welcome his advances and offer him her love, and then something would come between them. His rational mind knew that this was a sign that Elizabeth would never be his, but he could not wish away these fantasies. They were all he had left of Elizabeth.
He rarely socialized as to avoid society ladies and their matchmaking mammas. If he could not have Elizabeth Bennet, then he would live out the remainder of his life as a bachelor. At least in that he would have his cousin as company. He knew that society demanded that a man of his position and wealth must have a wife, but to that reality he was apathetic. He had never been comfortable in that world, and he looked forward to escaping London so he could hide away at Pemberley.
The only pleasant circumstance about his first week in London was the arrival of Georgiana at Darcy House. His happiness to see his younger sister was genuine, and they spent an entire day in familial companionship. However, that night, he realized that without Elizabeth he would be left to arrange Georgiana’s debut to society, and he would have to deal with losing her to another man without anyone to comfort him. It was a painful realization, and it almost brought him to regret Georgiana’s arrival.
Mr Darcy's Kiss Page 3
