“Yes. Since you mean to refuse me, I want to protect my identity. Surely you can understand that.”
“Yes.” She nodded. “Yes, I can.”
“I have dreamt of you for so long. I want my one kiss. And then, then if you persist in your love for this other man, I will never bother you again.”
Elizabeth’s heart pounded in her throat, her palms had gone damp. One kiss! If only he knew what he was asking of her! But she wanted to give it to him. “Very well,” she said, her voice shaky. “One kiss.”
“Thank you. If you’ll close your eyes.”
She closed them. She wanted, almost desperately, to see his face, but she closed them. Then his presence surrounded her, the scent of his pomade, fresh and clean, and his arms around her, strong and yet gentle.
In the darkness his mouth found hers, his mouth was warm, firm and yet tender. The kiss began chastely, rather like one of Mr. Collins’s affectionate salutes, but then it changed, became something she had never imagined, never expected. The mouth on hers grew warmer, more demanding and Elizabeth, overcome by feelings for which she had no name, began to tremble.
When he released her mouth, he held her close against his warm body, his cheek against hers. “Think about this,” he murmured into her hair. “Think about me. Perhaps you’ll change your mind —”
His arms were warm, strong. She didn’t want him to leave her. She wanted to stay there in safety, in. . . She tried to summon words, but none would come.
“Keep your eyes shut,” he said. “I’m going to leave you here.”
“I —”
“Please,” he said. “Please.”
“But —”
“Count to twenty.”
She began counting, standing there in the darkness, but long before she reached twenty she knew he was gone. She didn’t need the quiet click of the door closing behind him to know he had left, she felt it by the sense of emptiness that crept into her pores and settled in her soul.
Why? she told herself in an agony of reproach, why had she let him go? Why had she told him she loved someone else? What did she know of love, anyway?
* * * *
Some time later, reasonably composed, Elizabeth returned to the ballroom. She looked around for Darcy. There he was, across the room, chatting amiably with the colonel while Kitty stood by, her arm draped through Richard's, her face wreathed in smiles.
Elizabeth looked away quickly. At least Darcy was not with Miss Bingley. But when he was with her — did he kiss her in that strangely exciting way, the way Elizabeth had just been kissed?
She found a chair and sank into it. But hardly had she done so when a man appeared, and asked her to dance. As they whirled around the floor she found herself surveying the other men, trying to discover which of them had sent her the letters, which of them had said he loved her.
“For many years,” he had said. But how could that be? She supposed it possible. People had been known to love those they’d never even seen. If this person had seen her, or heard of her. . .
Missing a beat, she stepped on her partner’s foot. “I’m so sorry,” she mumbled as they swept on. But her mind wasn’t on the dance. It was on —
Colonel Fitzwilliam! Richard had appeared with Darcy the day the first love letter had arrived. Could he be the mysterious admirer? He seemed to have a tendre for Kitty. Still, the day Darcy brought him home Richard had come first to her. And then he’d said he’d heard about her.
The colonel! But if he loved her, then why was he paying so much attention to Kitty? Why to see her, of course. He knew that she’d be included as chaperone in any excursion he planned.
Oh dear, now she was in the suds for sure. She could never take Kitty’s young man away from her. This love business was all too difficult, she told herself with a sigh, a real tangle.
* * * *
Later, after the ball, Kitty was bubbling over with curiosity. “What was he like?” she wanted to know. “Are you smitten?”
Elizabeth managed a laugh. “I still don’t know who he is. When I — when I refused him, he said he wanted to remain unknown.”
“Oh Lizzy,” Kitty cried. “How can you be so unromantic? You should at least have given the poor man a chance.”
Glancing at Darcy, Elizabeth swallowed a sigh. “I did,” she said. “And then I refused him.”
Kitty shook her head. “Really, Mr. Darcy, can’t you speak to her?”
“About what?” Darcy inquired blandly.
“About her admirer, of course.” Kitty giggled. “It isn’t every day that a woman has an unknown admirer.”
“I don’t want —” Elizabeth began.
Darcy straightened in his seat and fixed Kitty with a stern eye. “It’s late,” he said. “We won’t discuss this anymore tonight.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy,” Kitty said. But even in the dim light of the sitting room, her pout was apparent. It was clear she wished to pursue the subject, and no doubt would at the first opportunity.
“Thank you,” Elizabeth breathed. “Thank you.” She must never let on that she knew the identity of her unknown admirer. Perhaps, since she had refused him, the colonel would turn his attentions elsewhere — to Kitty. Good heavens, she sincerely hoped so.
CHAPTER NINE
The night was a long one for Elizabeth. She slept fitfully, awakening often with the feel other admirer’s lips on her own. Such physical attraction could be very strong, she admitted to herself. But no matter how strong it was, she could never hurt Kitty.
But the next morning she still didn’t know what to do. If only she had someone to talk to, someone wiser.
At breakfast Darcy was even more taciturn than usual. She’d rather expected him to question her, to ask for an account of her meeting, but he remained stubbornly silent, quickly finished his breakfast, then left.
Kitty, of course, was not silent at all. But even under her persistent questioning Elizabeth would give nothing but the same answer. “I cannot say.”
Finally Kitty gave up in disgust, saying, “We’re going to the village this afternoon. Wear your rose colored gown. Please.”
Elizabeth nodded miserably. However was she to carry this off? To face the man who just last night had kissed her passionately and declared he loved her? And to face him without anyone suspecting? But she would have to do it. She simply could not allow Kitty to be hurt.
That afternoon when Colonel Fotzwilliam arrived, Elizabeth was ready. Still, she could not help looking at him through new eyes. After all, the man had declared his love for her. And he was a good-looking man, attractive and personable. Much more so than Mr. Darcy. But even if Kitty had not had a tendre for him, Elizabeth knew she could not love him. Not as she loved Darcy.
Colonel Fitzwilliam assisted them both into the carriage, smiling and seeming quite content. Elizabeth forced herself not to frown. How could the man pay such marked attention to Kitty when just last night he’d been holding her, kissing her? It was most difficult to understand.
Just as they were preparing to leave, Darcy rode up. Elizabeth admired the way he sat his chestnut stallion. How could any woman not? But she was dismayed to hear him say, “Going to Meryton, are you, Richard? I believe I’ll come along.”
It was not that she didn’t enjoy Darcy’s company. She enjoyed it very much. But if he saw, if he suspected the colonel’s feelings for her . . .
Kitty would never suspect anything, she was too smitten. But Darcy was astute. Elizabeth sighed and composed herself as best she could. Life was becoming daily more complicated. Perhaps she should just return to Longbourn, and live out her days in peace.
But when Darcy climbed into the carriage and settled beside her, she could not help but be pleased. It was good to see more of him, good to have him treat her so pleasantly, even though she knew the source of his pleasantry was his belief she would soon be gone.
“Lizzy has been most exasperating,” Kitty said, leaning toward the colonel. “She will not tell us about her rendezvou
s with her unknown admirer.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam turned to Elizabeth, a smile on his face. “So you met him. It must have been thrilling.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth mumbled. How could he remain so calm?
Kitty frowned. “And she refused him without even knowing his name.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam nodded. “I can understand that.”
“You can?” Kitty asked the question that was echoing in Elizabeth’s mind. “How?”
“Love seems like a complicated matter,” he said. “But actually it’s quite simple. We need only listen to our hearts.”
He was right, so right, Elizabeth thought. But her heart belonged to Darcy.
“Still,” Kitty said, pouting prettily, “I am convinced there is more to tell.” She patted her bonnet, complacent. “But never mind, there will be other suitors now. The sapphire gown was a great success. We will have many callers and —”
“Oh no!” The words escaped Elizabeth before she could stop them.
Darcy turned to her in concern. “What is it?”
She couldn’t help herself. “Why will no one listen to me?” she cried. “I don’t want callers. I don’t want to marry again.”
Kitty twisted her handkerchief in obvious concern. “But Lizzy, you should at least keep an open mind. You might meet someone,” she glanced at Colonel Fitzwilliam, “and be smitten.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I’m quite sure that won’t happen.”
“I don’t see how you can be so sure,” Kitty replied petulantly. “Unless . . .”
Colonel Fitzwilliam chuckled. “Unless she already loves someone.”
“Of course!” Kitty cried. “Why didn’t I guess? Who is he?”
Elizabeth fought to control her embarrassment. How could the colonel reveal her secret like that? The man was not behaving as a gentleman should. “Kitty, I told you, I don’t wish to discuss the matter.”
But Kitty would not be put off. “That’s it!” she said smugly. “You can deny it all you like, but I know it’s true. You’re in love with someone.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam took Kitty’s gloved hand in his own. “Come, my dear, leave Elizabeth alone now. She has a right to her privacy.”
“But . . .”
“Kitty, that’s enough.” Darcy’s quiet voice carried the ring of authority.
Kitty cast him a wounded look, but subsided.
As the carriage rattled through the busy streets, Elizabeth tried to think of a topic of conversation, but her mind sped in dizzying circles, always coming back to the fact that she loved a man who didn’t love her. And if he should discover it — she would be mortified.
“You are very quiet,” Darcy said some minutes later.
Elizabeth nodded. “I found last night rather exhausting. I have not been out much in company. And when it ended, I was too— excited to sleep.”
He nodded solemnly. “A proposal of marriage is always exciting, even if one rejects —”
“I didn’t mean that.” To her dismay she felt the heat rushing to her cheeks. “I just meant that the dance and —”
“It’s all right.” He covered her gloved hand with his and for a moment she felt surprisingly comforted. “It’s unkind of Kitty to badger you so.” He sent the girl a hard glance and she had the grace to look uncomfortable. “I can only plead her youth and inexperience.”
“It’s all right,” Elizabeth said. “Let us speak of other matters.”
“Of course.”
By the time they reached Meryton, Elizabeth had regained her usual good spirits. But when they descended from the carriage and she found that she was paired with Darcy for their stroll, they began to sink again. Of course such a pairing should not have been a surprise. Darcy obviously knew Colonel Fitzwilliam and Kitty would marry. After all, he had brought his cousin to the house and thrown the two together.
Darcy offered her his arm and they set off. “I truly am sorry for Kitty’s curiosity,” Darcy said. “But you must admit that the circumstances do make one curious.”
“I suppose that’s true,” Elizabeth replied. “But since I turned the man down, I should like that to be the end of the matter.”
“Of course.”
“And I appreciate your speaking to Kitty as you have. I know she doesn’t mean to pry, but it is most disconcerting.”
“Of course,” he repeated.
“I know —” she began, but she never got to finish the sentence. Miss Bingley came hurrying up, her face wreathed in smiles, and shoved her arm through Darcy’s free one.
“How marvelous!” she exclaimed. “Just the man I wanted to see. The ball went very well, don’t you think? The waltz is slightly scandalous, of course, but since they allow it at Almack’s, I see no harm. And don’t you think . . .”
Elizabeth ceased listening. How could Darcy care for such an empty-headed lady? But then men had strange ways, even stranger desires. They did not seem to value character in women, well, women like herself at least. How could a man wish to spend his life with someone who could not carry on an intelligent conversation?
Of course, Darcy did not intend to marry Caroline. She already had a husbanding London. And perhaps the things men did with their inamoratas, did not call for much conversation. Elizabeth pinned a bright smile on her face and endeavored to look interested in Caroline’s empty prattle.
Twice around Meryton they strolled and then the colonel said they must leave. Elizabeth swallowed her sigh of relief and made her goodbyes to Miss Bingley, biting her tongue when the lady said to Darcy, “Do not forget now. Tonight.”
Darcy was silent on the ride back to the house. He was, Elizabeth supposed, imagining the delights of the evening to come. The thought sent her plummeting into the depths of despair, but she kept the smile on her face.
CHAPTER TEN
That night was just as bad for Elizabeth as the previous one. What with tossing and turning, remembering and wondering, she got very little sleep. How could Colonel Fitzwilliam be so two-faced? To declare his love for her one night and the next day to court Kitty? What kind of husband would such a man make for Darcy’s cousin?
In the morning Elizabeth rose and washed, putting on her new blue morning gown. After the glory of the sapphire ball gown, she found herself unwilling to go back to wearing mourning.
She hurried downstairs, hoping to catch Darcy before he left the house. In the wee hours of the night she had come to her decision — she could not just ignore this behavior of the colonel’s. Darcy should know the identity of her admirer. Then he would be able to decide whether his cousin was good enough for Kitty.
When the butler reported Darcy at work in the library, Elizabeth made her way there. Outside the door she paused, smoothing her skirt with nervous fingers. This was not going to be an easy interview. She would have to tell Mr. Darcy what had happened, well most of it, in order to make him understand her concern.
She straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath, and rapped lightly.
“Come in,” he called.
She opened the door. Seated behind the great desk, he looked up, his dark face questioning, but oh so handsome. She wished to back out, but she forced herself to remain. Kitty’s future was at stake here.
“I am sorry to bother you,” Elizabeth said, “but I’m afraid there’s a matter I need to discuss with you.”
He motioned toward a lyre-back chair, gestured to her to sit. “I’ll be glad to help in any way I can.”
She crossed the room and sank into the chair, grateful for its support. It was too bad he didn’t love her, if he had all this would be unnecessary.
Darcy put down his quill and gave her his complete attention. “I take it this has something to do with the ball,” he said. “Though I haven’t pressed you, I would like to know more about your meeting.” He smiled. “I’m sure there was more to it than you told Kitty.”
She sighed. “Yes, I’m afraid so.”
He frowned. “Afraid?”
“Yes,
you see I think I know who he is — my admirer, that is.”
Darcy leaned across the desk, his dark eyes peering at her intently. “You do?”
“Yes, yes. It’s Colonel Fitzwilliam, you see. Your cousin. And that will never do because Kitty is smitten with him and —”
Darcy straightened. “Richard? What makes you think Richard is the man?”
“Well, my admirer said he’d loved me for a long time.”
Darcy looked puzzled, his dark brows drawn together. “I see.”
“Yes. That day he arrived, he said he’d heard about me coming to live here. That you — you had told him about me.”
He nodded. “I see. So from that you concluded that he’s the one.”
She smiled, relieved that she had made herself understood. “So you must see . . .”
“What else happened that night?”
“What — else?” Why must he ask such questions?
“Yes. You were gone from the ballroom for some time. Did you discover immediately that the man was Richad?”
“Oh no, it was quite dark in the library. I did not see him at all. I . . .” She stopped. She couldn’t tell Darcy she’d admitted to loving someone else, he would want to know who that someone else was.
“Elizabeth,” he insisted, “what else happened?”
There was no hope for it. She’d have to tell him something. “He — he kissed me. And he told me to think about it — and about him.”
He raised an eyebrow. “And . . .”
“And I have been thinking.”
“So, do you love him?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know him well enough to love him. Besides, there is Kitty to consider.”
Darcy got to his feet and came around the front of his desk, leaning back against it. “I appreciate your coming to me like this, with your concern for Kitty. But I think I should tell you — last night Richard asked for Kitty’s hand in marriage.”
“That’s what I mean,” she cried. “What kind of husband will he make her? How could he change the object of his affections so quickly?”
“He couldn’t. My cousin isn’t like that.”
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