“I had but two hands.”
And he didn’t want to leave immediately after bringing her something. He was being so kind, and after the shocking display she and Mama and Mr. Phillips made. Elizabeth grinned at him, feeling better. “You can stack several on a tray, it requires a little balance.”
“I am instructed. I did hope…” He shook his head. “Nay, it is too bold for me even to mention that I’d fancied I might get a taste from the goddess’s glass.”
Elizabeth giggled and handed him the wineglass. “Charlotte made me drink some just a half hour ago. I do not wish more tonight.”
Darcy took the glass and, glancing at her, took a sip from where her lips had touched. Elizabeth blushed, suddenly horrified and titillated by her lack of thought — or had she hoped he would act so? — when she did not wipe the cup clean before handing it to him.
He said, “Leave a kiss but in the cup, and I’ll not look for wine, the thirst that from the soul doth rise, doth ask a drink divine.”
Elizabeth laughed. “Is that all that is necessary to create a divine drink? I am impressed with myself.”
“As well you should be. You do not do sufficient justice to your great desserts.”
“Was that from Ben Johnson? I think I recognized it.”
“Bravo.” Darcy clapped. “You do know poetry.”
Elizabeth bowed her head to accept the praise. “Not near so well as you, I hope.”
“Was that a backhanded insult on the uselessness of my education? Because to make you laugh but once was worth every hour of tedious study.”
“So you do find poetry tedious. I’d begun to wonder if you were truly a gentleman.”
“You wrong me and my sex. It was the algebra they made me learn that was tedious. I adore poetry.”
“But it was the poetry, not the algebra which made me laugh.”
“Yes, but I studied both in school, so they are bound together.”
“You mean to say you have never on your own account read a book of poetry?” Elizabeth gasped. “Shocking.”
Darcy laughed and then inclined his head, giving her the victory.
Elizabeth was really pleased to see his good humor. He looked even handsomer when he laughed than when he grinned at her. And he looked very, very handsome then.
He took a bite from one of the meat pies, “I think Mrs. Collins a very good woman. I am glad you have such a friend.”
“She is the best of friends. We have been close for so many years, and I am very pleased that she is happy, but I did not conspire with her. In fact, I thought she was making a dreadful mistake at the time — Mr. Collins has improved greatly since his marriage. Besides, Jane had no affection for Mr. Collins. I don’t conspire.” Elizabeth was briefly frustrated by her defensiveness. But her mother had made the insult. It would not be unreasonable for him to think there must be some truth.
Darcy’s eyes and smile were friendly. He brushed his fingers over the top of her hand, comfortingly. “Of course you did not.”
“I did, however” — Elizabeth pointed at the meat pastry — “I helped to prepare them. I’m not ashamed. I do not mind helping, even though I am a gentlewoman. I am a gentlewoman.”
“You did?” Darcy took a large bite from his meat pie and chewed and swallowed with gusto. “My mouth tastes what your fingers have made?” He closed his eyes and sighed with happiness.
Elizabeth giggled again. “Do not be absurd, the cook did all of the real work, I just shaped them. And perhaps that was one of the ones which Jane prepared.”
Darcy looked down at his pie and then up to Elizabeth, and then back at the pie. “You say Miss Bennet prepared half of them? And that you have no knowledge which is which? That quite destroys the meaning of the gesture.” He stared unhappily at the pastry.
“Some date when you visit again, I shall set one aside special to feed to you. Would that make you happier?”
“It would. In truth.”
He was such a silly man. “Then I will.”
“I shall not eat until then. Or it will all taste like sawdust in my mouth if I am forced to eat before I taste what you offer.”
Elizabeth restrained the temptation to punch his arm. He was being forward enough for both of them. Her face suddenly fell. “I am sorry that I lost you so much money.”
“Miss Elizabeth—”
“I gave Jane… Well it is possible I shall be able to get something to pay you back with, and—”
“By no means. No, no. Besides, even if you gave me something in return, Mr. Phillips still will have won the half-crown off me, and that is the only part of the matter which bothers me at all.”
Darcy had such a sour expression. Elizabeth laughed again, any anxiety she had on the matter dissolving. “We did not make the best of impressions tonight.”
“You made the best possible impression.”
“That is kind of you. And I do agree that my uncle and mother behaved such as to remove any need for a polite denial of their ill behavior. She wasn’t always like that. She was…not restrained, but she wouldn’t have yelled at me in front of you, or…or flirted with you before we lost the money, or even before Lydia. She is unhappy and she always believed Jane at least would marry very well eventually.”
Darcy almost growled. He seemed to be truly incensed by Mama’s treatment of her. “So in the past she only attacked you in private. And on such an absurd matter. You promoted your sister more assiduously than any matron. Though I am afraid, while she is good natured, she is not to my taste. None of your sharpness of mind.”
He was, of course, not saying that he found her prettier than Jane, but still Elizabeth grinned at him delightedly. She’d never before had such a desire to be first with a gentleman over her beloved sister, but Elizabeth was suddenly delighted Darcy had not taken to Jane. Of course she could not say that. “Abominable. Completely abominable, why Jane is perfectly sharp of mind. I would have you take that back.”
“I apologize, I meant she had none of your sharpness of tongue.”
“Thank you.” Elizabeth laughed. “That is far better. Though it marks you as a strange man to prefer a girl who compulsively teases and bothers you.”
“We had established the other night that you are a strange woman.”
Elizabeth blushed and laughed.
Darcy fell silent and looked towards where Mrs. Bennet sat next to Lady Lucas and Mrs. Phillips, laughing and apparently in delighted spirits. “Unnatural parent,” he murmured.
“She is only worried.”
Darcy looked like he wanted to say something, but instead he sighed.
“She only is scared none of us will marry. I do not worry. Not at all.” Seeing Bingley’s enthusiasm as he talked to Jane made Elizabeth say, “I am sure that even with Lydia one of us shall fall in love and marry well enough to help the rest.”
“Perhaps…” Darcy looked at her with a heavy frown. “Are you so certain of that? For most substantial men, marriage is…well, it is a matter of connections more than affections.”
Did Mr. Darcy think she had some hope he would marry her because of his kindness, and he wished to discourage her? If he thought she had any such idea in her head, he would certainly avoid her, and she did not want that. Elizabeth hurriedly said with a hollow feeling in her stomach, “Oh, I know that. I shall not marry well, and likely not marry at all. I do not mind. Really, I do not. Do not look at me so. You will marry high indeed. Shall you hold out for the daughter of a duke?”
He stared into her eyes somberly. She said once more, “I really do not mind. Besides I shall someday marry, only I will be nearly an old maid, and he shall be short and bald, but have a kind and happy smile.”
“Short and bald? Can you describe a man more different than me as your ideal?”
“You have a kind and happy smile.”
Darcy actually blushed at that, and Elizabeth felt a bubbly grin grow inside her.
“So tell me, will it be a duke’s daughter?”
“My uncl
e is an earl. I owe it to the family name to advance our fortunes, and another earl’s daughter would be passé.”
Elizabeth laughed, and the subject was dropped.
She and Darcy laughed and talked until everyone departed. And when they left Jane glowed with smiles from her conversation with Bingley, and Jane had won more than she lost. The evening contained much more of happiness than sadness.
Chapter 8
Darcy woke the next morning with Elizabeth on his mind.
The way Elizabeth’s eyes had tightened as she listened to her horrid uncle’s attacks. He had not even been willing to pay the little money for a circulating library. He stuck her in the attic. He wanted to turn her into a maid.
Mrs. Bennet. She was still attractive in the way that healthy women a few years past the age of child bearing could be if they dressed well and cared for themselves, but she was a horrible woman.
To think, he’d been disposed to think well of Mrs. Bennet simply because Mr. Phillips despised her.
Darcy rolled out of bed and looked out the window. It looked like a cold day, but it was warm in his room, and his bare feet wriggled comfortably on the rug. The leaves had all fallen from their trees. The last parts of the fields were being harvested. Soon there would just be stubble.
She was so beautiful.
That smiling light in her eyes, her pretty hands around the cup of coffee she prepared, the quirk of her eyebrows. The way tears had gathered in her eyes. He wanted to kiss the tears from her eyes and make her smile.
She deserved a better life. Her brightness and happiness would surely be ground away by years of such treatment. She should have opportunity to flourish, to read, and to smile. She should be able to enjoy pretty dresses and see the theater and opera. She should be able to go where she pleased.
What would happen to Elizabeth when he left Hertfordshire? She would either never marry or eventually marry a farmer or craftsman in desperation to escape her uncle and mother. Maybe a very foolish man. She would not be happy.
Elizabeth deserved better.
Never harm a woman. The first rule was to treat others as you would wish to be treated. That was what he had been taught. Darcy paced. He wanted to help her. He wanted to see her removed from this situation.
He wanted to hold her, and kiss her, and place her in his bed. Then he would kiss his way down her throat, and her breasts, ever so slowly pulling her dress down. Then he would kiss her stomach, and then start kissing upwards from her feet.
Darcy sat down, with his dressing robe wrapped around him, the red silk hanging off his muscular thighs. What every other woman he had ever been with lacked, a matter of spirit, she had it.
But how to convince her to enter his protection?
She knew there was no glorious marriage in the future for herself and would eventually accept Jane would not have a great marriage either. And she liked him very much already. Surely it could not be so hard.
But Darcy felt confused. He never had managed such an affair on his own. His uncle always pushed a new girl on him too quickly. Well it was time to make good on his boast that he could find his own woman.
Darcy grabbed the bell to ring for his valet.
His mind was leaping ahead of what he knew. He could be certain of nothing, not her character, not her willingness, not even his desire, without a much longer acquaintance. Two nights was too quick for his certainty that she was who he needed to be rational.
John entered the room to help Darcy dress. Once he was settled into his outfit and shaved, Darcy said to his man, “I have a task for you — it will require discretion. I wish to learn everything known in the neighborhood about Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Her history, her friends, her habits. She grew up with far greater consequence than she has now, how has she adapted? Do avoid making it appear I am curious about the lady — ask about in general. But it is Elizabeth Bennet I’m interested in.”
Darcy’s man bowed and set off. John was a clever fellow who could manage the situation.
He would need to proceed cautiously with Elizabeth, else he might ruin everything and make her despise him. She was still a gentlewoman and a maiden.
It was near a week before John returned with his report. At one of the evening parties Darcy attended during that time, Elizabeth and her sister were not present, as the Goulds had chosen not to invite them for small soirees. But the next dinner out, he saw her again. It was a perfect evening.
John gave a quite military report. She’d been a daughter of Longbourn, her father died from an infection which set in after a riding accident, her mother lived richly and then became bankrupt, then the family had been split among their relations. And now Miss Lydia had married a village blacksmith.
Miss Elizabeth had lived in London with her aunt and uncle for two years, and the hope had been that she and Miss Bennet would marry. Nothing had come of it, and now it was quite likely nothing ever would. Miss Elizabeth was clever, lively, and well liked, but after Lydia’s behavior, many suspected she could easily turn wild.
She walked for an hour most mornings, often with a book in her hands. She loved reading, balls, her sister, laughter, and clever jokes.
Darcy focused on the information about her walks. He’d already known the rest from talking to her. He could meet her casually in the road. Darcy took long morning rides round about the environs of Meryton. The first two days yielded no sight of Elizabeth, though he did make the acquaintance of a great many cows and farmers.
On the third day, however, Darcy was still a mile out from Meryton when he saw Elizabeth winding her way along the side of the road, with a book held in front of her nose as she walked. She looked about when she heard the approach of Darcy’s horse.
She blushed and immediately hid the book inside her long green coat. She wore a pretty straw bonnet and looked neatly bundled up with her kid gloves and thick pelisse. Darcy rather regretted that the autumn weather required her to cover her figure up far more than the evening gowns he’d seen her in before. She was still gorgeous.
Elizabeth looked at him with a beaming smile and bright eyes as he approached her.
Darcy rode up and with an athletic jump dismounted easily and greeted her, “Miss Elizabeth, alas the sun is now dim in my eyes because you shine more brightly by far.”
She laughed, her head bobbing up and down and the mahogany curls around the edge of her bonnet shaking about. “No poetry today? Or was that an attempt at your own composition? It did not rhyme.”
He took her hand and kissed it, letting his lips linger, but not too long lest he seem dangerously rakish. He threaded her arm with his own and took the horse’s halter in his other hand.
“I expected you would provide the poetry today. Is it some volume of Wordsworth’s that you hid so quick in your pocket?"
“Yes, yes — Wordsworth.” Elizabeth stopped walking and bit her lip. Darcy did keep her arm as she drew her head up and declaimed, “Oft when on my couch I lie, my heart with pleasure fills, and dances with the daffodils.”
“No. No. Not that poem. You were supposed to extravagantly compliment the beauty of my eye and the fairness of my face.”
“You suggested Wordsworth — he cares more for daffodils than daffy Bills.”
“A daffy Bill! Is that what you think me?”
She smiled impishly and inclined her head, her eyes dancing.
Darcy shook his head, pretending to be disgusted. He then asked, “What were you reading? Since you were not repaying my efforts to amuse you by memorizing your own compliments on my gentlemanly figure.”
“’Tis a tragedy that your Sisyphean labors have gone unrewarded and unrecognized.”
“No. Not at all. They are amply rewarded. When I hear one lady’s laughter, I have all the reward I might need.” He looked at her meaningfully, and Elizabeth blushed. Then Darcy said jauntily, “Now do tell what you are reading.”
“No — no, by no means."
“But, I shall then be forced to guess."
&nbs
p; “And if you guess right, I shall be forced to deceit.”
“It can hardly be so embarrassing — unless…you are reading some Papist pamphlet as you intend to convert to Romanism and become a nun. See, I have settled it satisfactorily. But do not become a nun, Shakespeare would disapprove.”
Elizabeth giggled.
“Recall the sonnets: ‘Thy unused beauty must be tomb'd with thee, Which, used, lives th' executor to be’.”
She crimsoned. “I’ve read them close enough to know what a shocking reference you intend to make.”
“Shall you breed another thee, or ten times happier, be it ten?”
She clapped her hand over her mouth. “Oh my. That is a quite improper question.”
“You proclaimed Shakespeare to be the subject. I merely follow your wishes.”
She rolled her eyes. “I wished you to quote precisely that line.”
“So you do not intend to become a nun — you are reading a radical French text which preaches the abolishment of marriage and death to all priests and noblemen. I like my uncle very much, so I must object.”
“You are closer.” Elizabeth pursed her red lips together. “But still very far.”
“Then I must resort to flattery, since guessing has failed: Oh bounteous goddess, Venus of Meryton, Diana of these country roads, I beg you, relieve my agony of suspense.”
She grinned at him. “I had thought you were charming. That was the effort of a coxcomb.”
“I swear I could praise you more nonsensically than that.”
“That, I believe.”
“You must give me some hint — any hint.”
“It is a novel.”
“No!” Darcy gasped and pulled the hand holding the horse’s halter to his breast. “Say it is not so. I had believed only men wasted their time on such petty entertainments. I thought your mind and wisdom to be like that of Minerva, only greater.”
“Would not the goddess of wisdom wish to know about novels, for the sake of curiosity if nothing else?”
“So your excuse is that you only read this novel for the sake of curiosity.”
Elizabeth laughed. “’Tis no excuse, at least, it no longer is. Only a morbid fascination has kept me reading the past hundred pages.”
A Dishonorable Offer Page 9
