Elizabeth remembered how mortified she had been at Mr Collins’s ineptitude, and that she had to constantly correct him.
“I did not realise you had observed us, sir, or that you had noticed the state of my slippers. I am surprised you would concern yourself with such trifling matters. Do I meet your exacting standards, Mr Darcy?”
As the dance drew them together, Elizabeth caught her breath. Darcy’s gaze seemed more intensified, and she felt as though his penetrating stare had somehow pierced her very soul. Taking both her hands, Darcy held them over his heart and replied with quiet, yet devastating passion.
“From our very first meeting, Elizabeth, my eyes have followed only you. There is not one moment when in each other’s company, that I cannot recall the gown you wore, the style of your hair or who your partner was. For every smile, I remember the time and the place. Every word, every glance you have ever bestowed on me, kind or otherwise, they are all indelibly committed to my memory. Not one heartbeat have I forgotten.”
Elizabeth felt spellbound; his words exposed the depth of his love, and they washed over her like an embrace. She had longed for such love, a passion that even after possession, it was not sated. They stood motionless while all around them danced.
“Come, Darcy, you must not monopolise Miss Elizabeth in this fashion. I believe she is promised to me for this dance.”
As the fog of emotion cleared, and reality returned, Darcy became aware that the dance had ended, and the musicians were still. They stood alone on the dance floor, being silently observed by the rest of the guests. Realising it was Bingley who had come to their rescue, Darcy turned and muttered,
“Thank you, Charles, maybe the next one.”
Without words, but still, in possession of her hand, Darcy led Elizabeth from the ballroom and out onto the deserted terrace. The biting December air enveloped them, but neither felt it. Stopping at the veranda's edge, Elizabeth took hold of the stone balustrade. The impact of his words still reverberated around her mind. She had read about such powerful loves, in the books of poets and Master Shakespeare, never dreaming she could be the recipient of such herself. She had always professed this would be the only thing that could induce her to marry, but now that she had found it, she could not, in all honesty, say she returned the sentiment. Oh, she wanted to, so very much she wanted to, but her feelings were unclear even to herself. If she professed to love him and it was false, it would mean heartbreak for them both. No, it was better to stay silent until she was sure. Again, the immenseness of Darcy’s declaration washed over her, the power of his all-consuming love saturating every fibre of her being, and she began to tremble. She tightened her grip on the rail lest Darcy mistook her shaking for shivering, but too late. He slipped off his coat and draped it over her, his warm hands lingering on her shoulders. Hesitantly, she covered them with her own, and then leant back on him for support.
“I did not know,” she murmured.
His warm baritone voice whispered close to her ear,
“You did not know what, Elizabeth? How those months apart were torture for me? How I risked my friendship with Charles in order to reunite him with Jane? Or maybe you are referring to Lydia, and the sacrifice I was willing to make to restore her to her family. That I have openly disregarded my family and society, by choosing to marry for love? Tell me that you know how my heart burns with a passion so violent, that you are the very air that I breathe. Surely you must know, Elizabeth; all I have done, I have done for you, only you.”
The anguish in his voice deafened her to propriety, and she turned and sought his lips with her own. She wanted to kiss away all the pain her family had caused him, to thank him for helping Lydia and Jane, and to fill the void of his absent family. And as their lips met, she felt his arms slide around her waist, drawing her still nearer. His acceptance of her imperfect family brought tears to her eyes, and unable to restrain them, they silently slid down her cheeks.
Her kiss was bittersweet in so many ways, Darcy thought, as the salt mingled on their lips. This was not the response he had hoped to provoke with his declaration. The uncertainty of what lay behind her actions was nothing short of agony. He longed for her caresses to be given with love, but suspected they were in gratitude. But for now, he would take whatever she offered. Hopefully, she would come to love him in time, for he could not, would not, live without her by his side.
Elizabeth, unable to hold back the sobs any longer, tore her mouth from his and buried her face in his coat. Darcy comforted her with soft words of reassurance until finally, Elizabeth managed to regain control of her emotions. Then Darcy lifted her chin to look into her eyes. Beautiful limpet pools of the darkest brown, still glistening with tears. He un-tucked his neckcloth and used the end to dry her eyes, knowing Fletcher would admonish him for it later. Concerned they had been gone too long already, Darcy tenderly stroked her hair, and then her cheek, before offering his verbal reassurance.
“My love is constant, Elizabeth. I will wait a lifetime if that is what it takes, but for now, I fear we must return. You are promised to Charles for the next dance, are you not?”
Retrieving his coat from her shoulders, he quickly shrugged himself back into it. He had not meant to cause her such distress and was heartily ashamed of himself for revealing the extent of his love in such a way. Sighing, he knew there was little hope their actions had gone unnoticed, but they must return.
Elizabeth was also disinclined to return to the frivolity of the dance. Instead, her mind was focused on easing Darcy’s pain, while trying to sort out her own feelings. The last thing she wanted to do was make merry and engage in meaningless chatter. Darcy’s tender embrace was far more alluring at this moment. Instead, she gave him a weak smile and placed her hand on his arm. Together, they silently turned and walked back inside.
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Darcy to the Rescue
Darcy was waiting on the steps of Netherfield as the carriage rolled to a halt and Charles Bingley jumped out. Having left town before the clock struck eight, Bingley was pleased to finally stretch his legs. They briefly exchanged pleasantries about the weather and Bingley’s journey and then adjourned to the library for a hot toddy. Stevens had left the coffee pot and whisky decanter on the table for the gentlemen to help themselves as instructed. Darcy half filled their cups with coffee and then topped them up with a generous glug of the whisky. Passing one to Bingley he said,
“It’s good to see you, Charles.”
Bingley took a decent swallow of the potent brew before replying,
“Thank you, Darcy. I very nearly didn’t come. My sisters had arranged several outings for us. But your letter was so cryptic curiosity got the better of me.” He reminded Darcy of the brief contents of the missive.
Charles
Return to Netherfield,
I implore you not to delay.
Come alone.
Darcy
“Yes, I’m sorry about that, Charles, but I know your sister Caroline has a habit of accidentally opening letters that are not addressed to her,” Darcy explained.
“Well, what was so urgent that it demanded my immediate return?”
Darcy knew he must make a clean breast of things regarding his interference between Miss Jane Bennet and Charles, but how? He did not want to upset or alienate his closest friend, but he could hardly stand by his opinion that Jane was unfit to be Charles’s wife when he intended to make Elizabeth his own. Feeling suddenly unprepared to make his confession, Darcy merely leant forward and refilled his glass saying,
“Nothing that won’t keep,” he lied. “I was lonely, that’s all. Perhaps we can talk after lunch?”
Bingley agreed to this plan and then went to wash before the noonday repast was served.
Usually, Elizabeth would have walked to Netherfield, but seeing the state of the paths, she was glad that her mother had insisted she take the carriage. Mrs Bennet had intended to send the footman over with an invitation for Da
rcy to dine with them, but Elizabeth knew he would most certainly be expected to deliver it on foot. So she was happy to deliver it personally and save the poor man a wretched walk.
She set off straight after luncheon and arrived at Netherfield a little after two. The footman showed her into the day room and then withdrew. She expected her host to arrive momentarily, but after several minutes had elapsed and she was still alone, she decided to look for him herself. The entrance hall was deserted, but she could hear voices coming from the upstairs drawing room. Determined to deliver the invitation in person, she began to climb the stairs. As she neared the top level, the voices seem to get much louder, too loud in fact. Taking care to make no noise herself, she crept closer until she could hear each word that was spoken. The occupants appeared to be in the middle of a heated discussion. Although manners dictated she either retreat or make her presence known, Elizabeth did neither.
“You, engaged to Miss Elizabeth? You can’t be. I won’t believe it, Darcy.”
“It’s true, Elizabeth and I are engaged to be married,” Darcy confirmed.
“How can you be when you steered me away from such a union with her sister Jane?” Bingley scoffed. “They have very little money and no worthy connections, you said. Her heart appears untouched where you are concerned Charles, that’s what you said. Do you deny it, Darcy?”
“No, I do not deny it, Charles, but if you pause for just one minute, I will explain,” Darcy said as he tried to reason with his friend.
“Explain? What is there to explain?” Bingley asked raising his voice to an even greater level. “You can marry Miss Elizabeth because that is your desire, yet Jane and I are to remain estranged. You are a two-faced hypocrite, Darcy, and I never thought I would see the day you put your own self-interests above all others. In light of your declaration, I no longer feel bound by your council,” Bingley bellowed and then opened the door to leave.
Unfortunately, Elizabeth was blocking his exit. Unperturbed, he stepped around her with only a slight incline of his head in acknowledgement of her presence.
“Charles, come back and let me explain. There is much more to…” Darcy fell silent the minute he saw Elizabeth. His first thought being, how much did she hear? Her next words told him, everything.
“How could you? Oh, I suspected you did not approve the night of the ball. The look of disdain on your face gave you away. But to stoop so low as to try and separate two people, who are clearly very much in love, well, it confirms all the defects of your character I previously thought you possessed,” she spluttered, then turned on her heels and sped down the stairs.
Darcy followed her down the stairs pleading,
“Elizabeth, let me explain. It’s not as bad as it sounds. Elizabeth, please, won’t you, at least, hear me out?” he beseeched.
Elizabeth spun around and faced her intended. In her eyes, there was no explanation he could give that would redeem him. She threw her mother’s invitation at him and spat,
“If you have any semblance of a gentleman about you, you will make your excuses.” She hurried through the front door and into her carriage before he could stop her.
Darcy stood open-mouthed. How could so much have gone awry in just a few minutes? Unaccustomed to having people leave when he was mid-way through a sentence, he briefly thought them in the wrong, but only briefly. He realised his actions had been the cause of both Charles’s and Elizabeth’s outrage, and rightly so, from their perspective. But in his heart of hearts, he had only tried to protect his friend from what he thought, at the time, was another fortune-hunting Mamma forcing her daughter into a loveless match. These past few days he had seen first hand how Jane pined for Charles, and he now knew he had been mistaken in his opinion of her. He must make amends and today. Yet Darcy doubted he would be welcome at the Bennets’ now. Then he saw the crumpled piece of paper Elizabeth had hurled at him and stooped to pick it up. It read,
Dear Mr Darcy,
Mr Bennet and I would be honoured
if you and Mr Bingley would accept our
heartfelt invitation to come and dine
with us tonight.
Yours,
Fanny Bennet.
Darcy knew instantly that he still intended to go, and if he could talk Bingley ‘round to attending with him, so much the better. Whether he wanted to listen or not, Charles would hear his explanation and then his apology. After that, it was up to him to decide his own future.
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Mr Darcy’s Proposal
The rider dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, urging him to increase his pace. Moving as one they flew over the uneven terrain.
Unaccustomed to his master riding him with such fierce determination, Odin sporadically bucked his back legs in protest as they raced over the emerald landscape. Finally, as they approached a tall, but shallow hedge, the stallion, foaming at the bit with the exertion of the pace, decided enough was enough. As his rider leant forward in preparation for the jump, Odin dug his hooves into the ground and promptly stopped.
Darcy, who had resolved to ride until his black mood was exhausted, found himself momentarily airborne, before landing unceremoniously in a heap on the other side of the fence.
Relieved to be rid of his ill-tempered burden, Odin trotted over to a patch of green, winter pasture and lowered his head to sample the long blades, unconcerned with the fate of his rider.
Winded by the fall, Darcy lay on the ground and tried to catch his breath. He could not blame his faithful steed for throwing him. He had ridden Odin hard for almost an hour as he tried to banish a particular image from his mind, and from his memory.
The image of George Wickham, with his hand on Elizabeth’s arm.
Elizabeth, who was enjoying an extended morning walk, watched in disbelief as a man appeared from nowhere and landed at her feet.
Startled, she retreated a few steps, then instinct took over, and she rushed to his aid.
“Are you injured, sir?” Elizabeth asked as she knelt by his side.
Only when the man turned towards her, with a familiar scowl on his face, did Elizabeth recognised him.
“Why, Mr Darcy?” Elizabeth exclaimed with surprise, “We understood you had left Hertfordshire and returned to the Town?”
His mood, already black from suffering an undignified parting from his horse, darkened as he realised his demise had been witnessed.
The fact that it was Miss Elizabeth Bennet who had been party to the shambolic event, only deepened his anger and embarrassment.
Brushing off Elizabeth’s attempt to assist him, Darcy replied gruffly,
“Thank you, but I am in no need of assistance.”
Although Elizabeth had no brothers, she understood the concept of male pride and would have forgiven Mr Darcy for his rudeness, had he not been bleeding from a graze on his brow.
Ignoring his black scowl, Elizabeth withdrew a handkerchief from her reticule and as she reached out to dab at the wound said,
“May I?”
“No,” he barked, “I have already stated that I am in no need of assistance, madam. I must ask you to desist.”
Humiliated, Darcy rolled over onto his stomach and tried to stand, however, he could only manage to struggle to his knees. Silently cursing, Darcy wished Elizabeth would leave him to his humiliation and allow him to recover in private.
Managing to regain his breath, he quickly realised the exertion of moving had rewarded him with a thumping in his head and a spell of dizziness. Momentarily defeated, he knew he needed to rest for a while longer before attempting to stand again.
His harsh words did not deter Elizabeth.
On several occasions when visiting her father’s tenant, she had tended to the scraped knees of their children. Neither the child’s verbal protests nor the sight of their bloodied knees or nose had swayed her from her task.
So, sitting back on her heels, Elizabeth watched as Mr Darcy tried again to scramble to his feet, only to
fall back onto his hands and knees.
Now, with only one foot resting on the ground, it quickly became apparent that the gentleman was unable to stand under his own volition.
As Darcy paused in this half sitting, half kneeling position, Elizabeth said,
“Sir, while I hate to contradict you, it is obvious to me that you most definitely are in need of my assistance. Now, if you could stop being so stubborn for one minute, and take my arm, I am sure we could have you back in the saddle….” Elizabeth’s sentence was left unfinished.
“So far, I have been tolerant of your interference, Madam, but no more. You will kindly desist in your attempts to nursemaid me and remove yourself from this property.”
When Elizabeth made no move to leave, Darcy added,
“Trespassing is a serious offence, you know?”
If Elizabeth was shocked or stung by the severity of his address, she did not show it. Instead, she carefully folded her handkerchief and returned it to her purse.
Standing, she brushed the dried leaves from her dress and then paused to look at the dishevelled man kneeling before her. Had she not already experienced several encounters with the proud and unpleasant, Mr Darcy, Elizabeth might have taken offence at his curt words, his brisk tone or even his dark scowl, but she now deemed them to be part of his character long ago, even when one was trying to be helpful towards him.
“Very well, sir, I will leave you to your fate, but not because you order me from this property, but because I choose to leave. Besides, Netherfield Park ended with this boundary fence. You are now on Longbourn property.”
Elizabeth waited until she had her back to Darcy before letting a broad smile graced her lips.
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To Love Mr Darcy Page 17
