Their cloaks and muffs were taken by the footman who then silently disappeared.
“Charles, do you intend to spend the entire evening in the entrance hall?” Darcy called.
Embarrassed by Darcy’s light-hearted scold, Mr Bingley’s cheeks turned a deeper than normal shade of red.
As they entered the drawing-room, Mr Darcy jumped out of his chair and got to his feet. With deliberate steps, he moved forward and greeted the ladies. It was evident he had yet to regain his full strength back, but Elizabeth thought how handsome he looked. Why had she never noticed this before?
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, I hope you are well? Come, warm yourselves by the fire. I understand the air is close to freezing tonight.”
Jane and Elizabeth, whose fingers and toes were icy cold, moved towards the hearth, intent on taking full advantage of the blazing fire.
“Thank you, sir, we are both well. The weather does seem to be set for the night.” Jane replied.
“I hear we are in for more snow,” Mr Bingley offered.
Jane turned to Elizabeth with wide eyes as they both remembered their mother's parting words.
"Now, girls, if the weather remains inclement, and it appears likely to, do not put yourselves out by trying to return home, no indeed,” she cooed. “I am sure Mr Bingley will extend his hospitality for you to remain at Netherfield for the night, perhaps longer if we are lucky!”
“Mamma! With no other lady’s present, it would hardly be considered respectable,” Elizabeth pointed out.
“You will do as I desire, Lizzy. If you are offered a bed for the night, you will accept it,” Mrs Bennet insisted.
“Mamma,” Elizabeth chided, but Mrs Bennet was in no mood to argue.
“You will do as I say, Lizzy. Have you forgotten that your sister was so recently ill?”
“Then perhaps we should cancel? Would that not be the most sensible course of action?” Elizabeth said defiantly.
It was at this point that Jane found her voice.
“But, Lizzy, I want to go.”
And so, they went.
After supper, Jane took Elizabeth to one side and confided that she wanted to speak to Charles about their wedding privately. Elizabeth understood her meaning instantly, for Mrs Bennet had quite taken over all the arrangements for both of their weddings, leaving the brides with little to do but turn up.
Elizabeth returned Janes smile. The room was sufficiently large for them to talk privately without being unchaperoned. Jane squeezed Elizabeth’s hand then returned to Mr Bingley’s side.
“You are uncommonly kind to your siblings, Elizabeth,” Darcy said from behind her.
“Sisterly love is a strong bond, sir. I understand from Miss Bingley that you hold your sister in the highest regard, too.”
“That is so, Miss Elizabeth. I have had to be a mother, father and brother to Georgiana. Sometimes, I find it difficult to know which role to adopt,” he answered honestly.
He looked down the room to where Charles and Jane were seated, their heads close together, and they appeared to be speaking tenderly to each other. Darcy felt a pang of envy. For now, he could only dream of such intimacy with Elizabeth. He wasn’t even sure she would call him her friend yet.
Turning back to Elizabeth, Darcy took her by the elbow and guided her to the other end of the room. They both sat in the window seat and watched the young lovers for a minute or two.
“Your sister has made a fortunate match,” Darcy said unguardedly.
“A fortunate match, you say?” Elizabeth replied prickly. “I say he is the fortunate one. Jane is the sweetest, kindest girl, and a much-loved sister.”
Darcy instantly knew he had transferred his thoughts into words very ill. It sounded as though he thought Jane should consider herself lucky to have caught Bingley’s interest, which was not what he intended to say at all.
“What I meant to say was how lucky for them to have found each other, a love match returned with equal passion. I meant no disrespect, Elizabeth.” Darcy said in a wistful tone, “I envy him, that’s all.”
Elizabeth watched as he went to stand before the fire again, his gaze firmly fixed on the dancing flames.
The strange fluttering experience around her heart took Elizabeth quite by surprise.
Chapter Eight
During dinner, a short, but heavy snow flurry had fallen. Having settled on the already frozen roads, it made the use of the carriage a treacherous prospect.
A footman entered the drawing room and placed a tray of coffee on the small side table, then exited as silently as he had arrived.
“I fear we must think about returning home, Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth said as she handed him a cup of sweet, black coffee. “Otherwise, the road may be completely impassable. Don’t you agree Jane?” she asked, turning to her sister for support.
With great reluctance, Jane tore her attention away from Charles Bingley and looked at her sister.
“Charles has offered us a room here for tonight, Lizzy. It would be much safer to attempt the journey in daylight rather than in darkness.”
The familiar cock of Elizabeth’s head forewarned Jane she was about to disagree.
“We must consider the servants and the horses, Lizzy.” Jane quickly added.
Elizabeth knew she could make no further objections without looking churlish and ungrateful.
She smiled at Mr Bingley.
“Thank you, Mr Bingley. Jane and I would be happy to take advantage of your kindness.”
Jane hurried over and gave Elizabeth a grateful hug, while Charles joined Darcy by the fire and shot him a sheepish grin.
Elizabeth linked arms with Jane and drew her out of earshot of the gentlemen.
“Goodness knows what we are to sleep in Jane. Did you think of that, or has mamma secreted our nightgowns in the carriage somewhere?” she concluded with a discreet chuckle.
“Oh, we need have no worries on that count, Lizzy. Mr Bingley has said we may borrow some of his sister’s things,” Jane said innocently.
“Jane!” exclaimed Elizabeth. “I am shocked that you have discussed our night apparel with Mr Bingley. I am sure we could have asked one of the maids instead.”
“Oh, Lizzy, I am almost two and twenty, and Charles is going to be my husband. Soon we will share far more than chatter about women’s undergarments,” Jane pointed out.
There was no denying Jane’s statement, so Elizabeth surrendered and returned her smile.
Each of the couples returned to sit near the fire, intending to finish their coffee, when a loud pounding on the front door startled them.
A man’s raised voice followed by a stream of cursing filtered through to the drawing room. Alarmed, Darcy and Bingley went out to investigate, while Jane and Elizabeth trailed nervously behind.
“Damn blizzard blowing out there, don’t you know. Your lazy servant took an age to open the door. Don’t just stand there gawping, man,” bellowed a familiar voice. “Take my hat and coat you, oaf!”
“What are you doing back here, Hurst, and I’ll thank you to not abuse my servants,” Bingley replied sharply.
“Well, if you must know, I’ve taken a fancy to one of your fillies,” Hurst replied, with a lewd wink.
Ignorant of the sisters’ presence, Hurst continued,
“Dashed handsome filly in your stables, Bingley, noticed her when I was last here. Your parlour maids are easy on the eye, too.” Hurst snorted at his own joke.
Aghast, Jane and Elizabeth took a step back.
“And your wife, Hurst. What about your wife?” Darcy asked in a cold tone.
“Louisa is as cold as the weather outside, Darcy,” Hurst retorted.
“How dare you refer to my sister in that disgusting manner! She’s not one of your theatre floozies, you know. She’s a lady of refinement and breeding,” Bingley replied in angry defence of Louisa. “Are you drunk, is that your excuse?”
Hurst realised he had overstepped the mark. Antagonising one’s brother-
in-law was not a good idea when you had nowhere else to stay, and he quickly tried to make light of his remark.
“Well, a trifle over exaggerated maybe, but she follows Caroline around like a little lamb. It's damn inconvenient having three in one's marriage, what?”
Seeing icy glares from both Bingley and Darcy, Edward Hurst knew he had said too much.
“Now, Charles, I might have had a glass or two on my journey, but before you do anything rash, remember I have nowhere else to go. You must let me stay here, at least for tonight. Damn snow has made the roads almost impassable. I didn’t think we were going to make it this far.”
Feeling decidedly uncomfortable under the scrutiny of both Charles and Darcy, Hurst mumbled something about being starving and pointed towards the kitchen.
Charles reluctantly agreed to feed him and to let him stay the night, but only after he had instructed the butler to retire all but the oldest of the female servants. Charles had no intention of exposing the young village girls in his employ to Edward Hurst.
Charles and Darcy re-joined Jane and Elizabeth, closing the door behind them. Immediately, Mr Bingley offering his apologies for Hurst’s intrusion and unsavoury comments. Then, smiling shyly, he took Jane’s hand and drew her back to the divan they had shared earlier.
Although genuinely happy for her sister, Elizabeth felt the need to escape the atmosphere of sweet romance that seemed to fill the room.
“If we are to stay the night, would you mind if I selected a book before I retire?” she asked Mr Darcy.
“Not at all, Miss Elizabeth. You know your way to the library, I assume?”
Elizabeth confirmed she did and then made her way to that room.
Darcy looked at his friend. Happy and content to just be sharing a quiet moment with the woman he loved. How could he have ever thought of advising Bingley against marrying the sweet, and kind, Jane Bennet? Knowing that he intended to make an offer for Elizabeth, he was glad he had remained silent about his doubts regarding Jane’s attachment to Bingley. Clearly, they were very much in love and a perfect match for each other.
Suddenly suffocated by their love, Darcy could not bear to watch a moment longer as the young couple exchanged tender words.
“Charles there is something I need to do. Would you like me to call a maid to join you and Miss Bennet?” he asked.
“I am in no need of a maid, thank you, Mr Darcy,” replied Jane quietly.
Happy that he had done his duty by the young lady, Darcy made his way to the billiard room to take out his frustration on the balls.
Elizabeth had not meant to fall asleep in the library, she had only intended to rest her eyes for a moment, but the strain of reading by candlelight and the comforting warmth of the fire had made her eyelids feel heavy.
Through the haze of sleep, Elizabeth could feel a strange sensation on her leg. It was not an unpleasant sensation, but it was alien to her senses.
As the crawling feeling stretched up to her knee, she reached out to brush it away. When her hand encountered the object, she instantly recognised it as no insect or spider. Her eyes flew open in panic and immediately focused on her assailant.
The leering face of Edward Hurst, crimson and sweat covered, hovered only inches above hers. As he lunged down, his lips puckered and covered in saliva, Elizabeth screamed for all she was worth. As his mouth neared her face, the stench of stale alcohol invaded her nostrils, and she felt choking bile rise in her throat. Just in time, Elizabeth turned her face, only to feel Hurst’s lips make contact with her cheek. She raised her hands and began to pummel at his chest, all the while begging him to stop and calling for help. With his weight-bearing hand resting on her thigh, Hurst used his other hand to squeeze Elizabeth’s cheeks together, forming her lips in a bow. Seemingly oblivious to the blows her small fists were inflicting, he lowered his head for a second time.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and renewed her efforts with extra vigour.
Suddenly her fists were hitting thin air, and the weight of his body had gone. Gasping, she flung open her eyes, searching for her attacker. Then she spied Edward Hurst, who lay prostrate on the floor and now appeared to be unconscious. Next to Hurst’s body, reflecting the firelight in their shine, was a gleaming pair of black hessian boots.
Raising her eyes upwards, the identity of her rescuer was revealed. Mr Darcy, who now stood over Edward Hurst with his fists clenched and his legs akimbo.
Confident that Hurst was no longer a threat, Darcy turned to Elizabeth and knelt at her side. Immediately he pulled the hem of her dress down, covering the milky white flesh of her exposed thighs.
“Did he hurt you in any other way, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked, his meaning clear.
“No, sir,” she replied quietly.
Darcy exhaled the breath he was unaware he had been holding while waiting for her reply. Turning to the decanter, Darcy poured Elizabeth a small glass of brandy, and then returned to sit by her side on the edge of the chaise.
“Drink this; it will lessen the shock,” he ordered.
Elizabeth dutifully swallowed the amber liquid and gave a hearty cough as it momentarily took her breath away.
Darcy refilled the glass and said, “Again.” When Elizabeth tried to protest that one draught was quite sufficient, Darcy insisted and tipped the end of the glass up, indicating he would broach no argument.
Elizabeth drained the glass a second time, and the burn in her throat intensified as the liquid coursed its way down.
“I have been a poor host to you and your sister this evening,” Darcy said. “I am heartily ashamed of myself.”
Elizabeth saw his pain and took pity on him.
“Sir, you are not responsible for Mr Hurst’s actions. I am unharmed and thanks to you, my… virtue is intact. Besides, I do not think Mr Hurst is entirely responsible for his actions. I fear alcohol was largely to blame.”
“You are too generous, Elizabeth. Tonight was supposed to be about us.” He seemed to pause for a moment, and as she watched and waited for him to continue, she noticed a pout appear on his face.
Darcy walked over to the desk and retrieved something from the drawer.
“I was going to present you with this,” he said and held out a black velvet box.
Elizabeth reached up and took the box from his outstretched hand. Slowly, she lifted the lid and peered inside. Two strings of small, evenly-sized round pearls stared back at her. Elizabeth lifted them from their bed of velvet and gasped at their beauty. Sixty, perfectly formed white orbs, each reflected the light of the fire.
“May I?” asked Darcy, as he took the pearl choker from her hands.
Elizabeth stood and turned slightly, allowing Darcy access to the back of her neck.
Her nearness affected his equilibrium, and Darcy fumbled over fastening the clasp.
With the task completed, Darcy leant close to her ear, and whispered,
“Wearing them will enhance their lustre.”
Darcy’s warm breath stirred the hairs at the nape of her neck, and her legs almost gave away. His romantic gesture had touched her heart, but his closeness had stirred something altogether deeper. This strange pulsing sensation seemed to flood her senses, invading her emotions and making her want to throw caution to the wind. Combined with the effects of the two brandies, Elizabeth began to experience a fuzzy warmth about her head. For some inexplicable reason, she had the urge to giggle. Her thoughts seemed to be in a muddle, and while she realised she ought to be hysterical with fear after her ordeal, she found her mind focusing on quite another subject.
Standing beside her was her exceedingly rich and excessively handsome fiance, who had just preserved her virtue and presented her with a beautiful gift.
At that moment, Elizabeth decided if she were to receive her very first kiss, she would much rather it be delivered by the attractive Mr Darcy, than the slobbering, unfaithful husband of another. Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, and she noted how full and pink his lips were, and happily, they
appeared to be saliva free.
With the alcohol-induced euphoria making her feel bold, Elizabeth said,
“I am glad that Mr Hurst was not the man to deliver my first kiss,” she said coyly, “though I am disappointed that my lips remain chaste.”
Darcy had been around long enough to know an invitation when he heard one. He lowered his gaze to meet her eyes. There was no hint of fear or loathing. Instead, they were bright and inviting, and a playful smile danced on her lips. Darcy suspected that it was the drink making Elizabeth so brazen, but he had waited so long for any sign of encouragement or affection from her, he could not refuse what she now offered.
Cautiously he leant forward, and as Elizabeth closed her eyes, he brushed her lips with his own. It was a soft and gentle first kiss, full of love and tenderness on his part.
After the briefest of touches, Darcy pulled back and watched as Elizabeth’s eyes fluttered open. He was both pleased and relieved to see the shy smile return to curl her lips. He had guessed correctly and tempted as he was to explore her mouth further, that was sufficient for her first time.
Elizabeth could not help but smile. He had read her invitation perfectly, and she had now known the touch of a man’s lips. It was a pleasant sensation and one that she would be happy to experience again.
Perhaps marriage to Mr Darcy would not be so objectionable after all.
Chapter Nine
The next morning, Elizabeth was roused from her slumber by a cacophony of noise coming from downstairs. She jumped out of bed with the intention of going to investigate but was instantly reminded of the alcohol she had drunk the evening before. The thumping in her temples was of the acutest kind and totally alien to her. Her experience of drinking strong liquor was absolutely zero. This had been her first taste of brandy, and if the consequences were a pounding headache and wanton behaviour, it would also be her last. The memory of how she had offered herself to Darcy only seemed to compound the thumping in her temples, and although Darcy had kissed her only once, Elizabeth was thankful that he was a gentleman and taken no further liberties.
To Love Mr Darcy Page 6
