Darcy sprung to his feet. “Yes?” he asked, breathing harshly.
“Yes! I will marry you, Mr. Darcy! Yes!” Elizabeth’s smile filled her entire face, and Darcy closed his eyes and crushed her to him. He held her so tightly that she could barely breathe; so tightly that she could feel him trembling against her.
“Thank you! Thank you! Dear God, thank you! I love you so,” his tortured voice whispered into her hair.
She squeezed him, “I love you, too,” came her trembling reply.
Darcy inhaled. And since her head laid upon his chest, she felt his heart beat frantically. “You do?” came a strained whisper.
She lifted her head and smiled brightly. His eyes searched hers, wide, vulnerable, pleading. She held his gaze, “I do.” She watched him looking adorably uncertain and endearingly vulnerable. In that vulnerable, desperate look, she began to understand the power she had over him, and the feelings of love descended upon her with the force of an avalanche. She wanted to fly and run, cry and laugh, and kiss him all at once. This love she felt for him was so beautiful, so freeing. She touched his face, and he turned his head into her hand and closed his eyes.
“I love you, Mr. Darcy,” his eyes flew open, just as tears slid down hers. “I am irrevocably in love with you. I know it is love. I need no tutor to define it, nor philosopher to validate it. It is the most beautiful feeling I have ever experienced, and the most frightening,” she smiled through her tears. Elizabeth was nearly overcome – here was the most handsome, best man of her acquaintance, intelligent, kind, strong, and confident, and those eyes – mercy, and he trembled at her words. Unfathomable. “You are the best man I have ever known! You are generous, intelligent, wise, capable, and caring toward all. And I want to give my life to you, to love you, forever.
Darcy inhaled, closed his eyes, and groaned. Then he opened them and gasped at the love shining through hers. Mesmerized, he stroked her cheek, then he lowered his head and touched her lips softly, tentatively at first, until that delicious feeling of joy, satisfaction, and desire invaded him. And what had begun as a spark, raged into an inferno as all his pent-up love and desire escaped their confines, and the heat flooded his body, and he kissed her with all the passion within him.
Elizabeth wound her arms around his neck, and he felt her shy response, and Darcy was nearly undone. This is what he craved, this communion, this oneness, this right to do and know what no other would ever have a right to do and know, this shared existence. Darcy peppered her face with light kisses as he whispered his love, his joy, his fervent desire. Then he returned to her lips and Elizabeth clung to him, trembling in his arms.
Eventually, a hound’s barking intruded upon the bliss, and Darcy realized that they were in a field, subject to prying eyes. Not wanting anything to taint Elizabeth’s reputation, Darcy reigned himself in. He laid his forehead upon hers and struggled to control his breathing. When he had finally mastered himself, he lifted his head and smiled at her, stroking her cheek, “You have made me the happiest man, Elizabeth.”
They gazed at each other, transfixed. They knew that there was much to discuss, how love had grown, Francesca, Alexander, Lance, Saye, but this was not the time. This bliss was to be savored, this connection to be celebrated, not questioned. They separated, and she touched his face, rough now with hair. Darcy closed his eyes, remembering his appearance. He stepped back and ran his hand through his hair. “I apologize, my darling. I am a mess.” He shook his head as he realized the state of his dishevelment. “I did not have time. I could not…”
“Shh,” she placed her finger on his lips, and he froze, fire shooting down his body. She had no idea what she did to him, he thought. “I find you magnificent, Mr. Darcy.” Darcy’s eyes narrowed, and he stepped closer, but he shook his head and stepped back to a safer distance. Elizabeth cleared her throat and changed the subject. “It was Bingley’s letter that brought you here in such a haste, was it not?” Darcy nodded, and Elizabeth chuckled, “Bingley’s writing is hazardous. What did it say?”
Darcy laughed at her characterization of Bingley’s penmanship. She was so delightful. For a moment, he was silent. His smile vanished, and his face twisted as he remembered his anguish upon reading Bingley’s note. He leaned back upon the tree and closed his eyes, “I thought I had lost you,” his voice was low and ragged, and his shoulders drooped.
Elizabeth watched his despair, and her heart broke. She touched his face, and his eyes flew open. “But you did not; you never could,” she said, her eyes shining with love, and Darcy was powerless to stop himself from kissing her again. He reigned in his passion and kept this kiss tender, grateful even. Still, when it was over, they were both breathless. He tucked her head beneath his chin and held on.
Having not eaten since early that morning, Darcy’s stomach rumbled, and Elizabeth giggled. “Mr. Darcy!”
“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected her.
She smiled, “Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, and Darcy’s heart flipped. “It seems you are hungry, my dear. Come.”
“Elizabeth, my love, I cannot possibly greet your family in this condition,” he said, waving his hand down his disheveled attire.
Elizabeth followed his hand. He was disheveled and dusty from the road, but she had not cared one whit. “Really, Fitzwilliam, what did Bingley’s letter say?” Elizabeth asked softly.
Darcy laughed and grabbed her hand to walk back to Longbourn. He felt giddy at the excitement of holding her hand and could barely answer. “Ah,” he began, “between the blots, I deciphered that they had returned you to Hertfordshire to attend your engagement dinner and that Mrs. Bingley was needed to calm your mother’s nerves.”
Elizabeth laughed, “Charles really should be banned from ever using another quill! They did return me for the engagement dinner of my friend, Charlotte, to my cousin, William Collins! And Jane was needed because mama is upset. She wanted me to accept him.”
Darcy ran a hand down his face, suddenly and irrationally fearful of losing Elizabeth. No! She has accepted me. “Elizabeth, I cannot go to your father in this state, but please say that as soon as I have washed away the road dust, I may?”
She beamed at him, nodding, her eyes watery, “Yes! Yes!” She looked so beautiful, so happy, and Darcy nearly kissed her again, but he feared where that would lead. Darcy halted abruptly, blinking his eyes, “I left town with nothing but my horse.”
Elizabeth watched him. Again, here was evidence of his love for her and of his distress. She squeezed his arm and smiled, “Come, Bingley will have a solution. You have all the time in the world to speak with my father. I am going nowhere.” A slow smile spread across Darcy’s face. “Come, we must get you fed. I will not have you die of hunger on the first day of our betrothal.”
“Darcy!” Bingley leapt from his desk. “We wondered where you were! Samuels has arrived already!”
“He has?”
“Yes. Where have you been riding, my friend. You look a fright!”
“Well, yes. I received your invitation; I hope my coming without notice is not an inconvenience.”
“Of course not! You need never ask. Jane prepared your rooms when Samuels arrived.”
“I shall thank Mrs. Bingley. Now, as you have said, I do ‘look a fright.’ If you will excuse me, I will retire to my room.” Darcy shook Bingley’s hand, turned, then halted. “Is Miss Bingley in attendance?”
“Caroline? No. We could not drag her from London until the end of the season. She will stay with Louisa until then.” Darcy bowed and exited.
“Great to have you, Darcy. Dinner at 8:00, my friend,” Bingley called after him.
Darcy entered his room to a tray of cold meats, cheese, bread, and wine. “Samuels! I declare you must be a mind reader. I should have known you would come.”
“Of course, sir. When I was informed that you had gone to Hertfordshire, we left immediately after changing the horses. Now, after you have eaten, a warm bath awaits.”
> “Thank you, Samuels.” Darcy thought of Elizabeth as he sat and ate, and the food was the most scrumptious, the wine the richest, and the air even smelled fresher. After a warm bath, Darcy sat as Samuels prepared his shave. She loves me! And that kiss! Have mercy! Darcy’s eyes, which had been closed in ecstasy, flew open suddenly as Samuels cleared his throat. Samuels stood behind Darcy with razor in hand.
“You were smiling, sir.”
“I beg your pardon,” Darcy cleared his throat. And so that Samuels could complete his task, Darcy attempted to modulate the smile, that could not for ecstasy’s sake, be completely erased.
Samuels, who had guessed the reason for Darcy’s mad dash to Hertfordshire, said, “I suspect it shall be a frequent occurrence now, sir; the smile, I mean.”
The two men looked at each other’s reflection through the shared mirror. “I suspect it will,” Darcy smiled.
“Very good, sir. Very good.”
After dressing for dinner, Darcy remained in his room for as long as he could. He had wanted to savor the bliss and relive every moment of his greatest happiness. Now, when it would be improper to stay in his room a moment longer, he headed to the drawing room. Darcy entered and froze. Elizabeth sat, looking ravishing with bright eyes, an arched brow, and a happy smile. Darcy’s heart began a frantic beat.
“Darcy!” Bingley’s voice called Darcy back to the present, “join us.”
Darcy entered and bowed, “Mrs. Bingley, thank you for having me on such notice. I hope my coming was not an inconvenience.”
“No inconvenience at all. You are always welcome, Mr. Darcy,” Jane smiled serenely.
“Bingley.” Darcy greeted, then he turned, and his heart beat faster, the air seemed more fragrant, and his head spun. He turned his beautiful eyes upon Elizabeth and bowed, “Miss Bennet, it is a pleasure to see you.”
Elizabeth raised one brow and smiled, “Mr. Darcy.”
When dinner was called, Darcy escorted Elizabeth behind Jane and Bingley. As Jane and Bingley spoke, Darcy whispered in Elizabeth’s ear, “You are a vision, my darling. You make my head spin, and I can barely contain my joy at being allowed to be near you.” By the time Darcy had escorted Elizabeth to her seat, she had found herself wishing for Lydia’s fan, for she was desperately in need of cooling off.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
After everyone else had retired for the night, Darcy stood in Bingley’s library looking out at the night sky. Dinner had been the sweetest torment. Elizabeth had sat across from him in all her feminine allure, and knowing that she was his, that she loved him, but not yet being able to declare it, had been agony. He had been surprised to see her at dinner; however, he had been astonished to discover that she, too, was a guest at Netherfield, staying with Jane to avoid Mrs. Bennet’s pique. Darcy was now eager and incapable of settling down. She was here, just steps from him. He had come to the library, still dressed in his evening attire, hoping she would follow.
Soon, the door opened, and Darcy whipped around, the object of his desire stood there. “Elizabeth!” Darcy rushed to her, removed the candelabra from her hand, and crushed her to him. “I prayed you would come,” he whispered. Then he kissed her slowly, softly at first, caressing her lips languidly, but the love they shared and their need for one another was too strong, and soon the kiss raged into clutching hands, and intertwining souls, and bonded hearts. It felt so wonderful to hold Elizabeth. Her kiss was like the finest wine, and Darcy was parched. After loving her for so long, his need for her nearly overwhelmed him. Eventually, reason intruded, and Darcy knew he was approaching the point of no return. He would not dishonor her, nor compromise his principles, so he slowed the kiss until he could let go. Then he laid his head upon her forehead and breathed.
“Elizabeth, I love you so much, darling. You have no idea how long I have wanted to say that, to kiss you and hold you. I have ached for you. I want you so, my darling. You are air to me,” he said, looking deeply into her eyes.
“You said that once before, Mr. Darcy.”
“I did?”
“Yes, during our dance, the night of the Lancasters’ ball.”
“Ah, yes. I did.”
Elizabeth looked at him with wide, searching eyes. “Did you…?”
“Did I love you then?” Darcy smiled at Elizabeth’s adorable, disbelieving eyes. He ran his finger down her cheek and then instantly dropped his smile, his face serious. “Yes,” he said, his voice hoarse and his eyes burning into hers. “I loved you desperately then and watching you laugh and flirt with other men, was the severest agony. I did not know if I could endure it.” Elizabeth’s eyes shimmered with tears, and Darcy kissed them away, then he drew her back into his arms, and she clung to him, her body soft against his. Darcy closed his eyes and savored it. “Come,” he eventually said, needing to separate before he lost control, and led them to the sofa.
Elizabeth sat with her head tucked beneath his chin, enjoying the feel, the scent, and the touch of him. She was elated and had to remind herself that this bliss was real, that after the horrible pain of believing him bound to Francesca, this wonderful man wanted her. Loathed as she was to interrupt the ecstasy they shared, she needed resolution, answers to questions before she could fully embrace that this was not a dream that would be snatched away with the first rays of the morning sun.
“Fitzwilliam?”
“Hmm,” he answered, twirling a locket of her hair in his hand.
“Tell me about Francesca and Alexander.” He tensed, and she could feel his heart race. “Please, my love.” She raised her head; her eyes shimmering. “I just need to know. I need to make sense of it all before I can believe that this is real,” she said, her voice trembling.
The evidence of her pain stabbed him in the heart, and he wanted to remove it as quickly as he could so that she would never doubt his love again. Looking into her eyes, he said, “This is real, my darling. Nothing has been more real than my love for you, sweetheart. Never doubt it. It is as sure as the sun rising in the eastern sky.” Elizabeth smiled, and Darcy tucked her head beneath his chin. “But I will tell you everything. I want to tell you, no secrets ever, my darling.” Darcy sighed and gently stroked her arm, “I have an elder brother, and Alexander is his son.” Elizabeth lifted her head and stared wide-eyed as Darcy shared the story of Francesca, Hayden, and Alexander.
“How horrible!” she exclaimed with fire in her eyes when he had finished his tale, “For you to discover you have a brother this way and that they would do such a thing to you, to Alexander, to gain access to Pemberley! Despicable!”
“Indeed, it was despicable; however, you must understand a bit more of their stories.” Darcy then shared Francesca’s father’s neglect and her husband’s abuse, as well as Hayden’s rejection and scorn by society. When he had finished, Elizabeth stared for a long time.
“Indeed, I do understand more, but that does not excuse what they have done to Alexander nor what they meant to do to you.”
“No, it does not.” Darcy paused and held one of her hands, “But there is more, my darling.” Elizabeth looked at him, “Hayden meant to kill me.” Elizabeth gasped and froze. “Darling, darling,” he called to in her frozen state. When she finally lost the glassy-eyed shock and looked at him, he said with a smirk and a raised brow, “He did not succeed.”
Elizabeth’s breath expelled in gasps; her eyes still wide. Darcy drew her to him, “Shh,” he said. “It is all over, darling.”
“What if he returns! What if he tries again?”
“Shh, he will not. He is soon to be on a ship to India, and in the end, he was repentant of the scheme.”
Elizabeth sagged in relief, and Darcy stroked her arm, inordinately pleased to have evidence of the depth of her love. After a long moment, Elizabeth lifted her head and stroked his cheek, “Oh, Fitzwilliam, what you have endured.” Her eyes were soft with love and care, and Darcy closed his eyes against an onslaught of pleasure so intense that he needed to su
ppress an unmanly shiver. It had been an ordeal. The guilt he had felt for having an illegitimate son, the disgust at Francesca’s betrayal, then the shock of finding out about a murderous brother, meshed with the fear of losing Elizabeth, had been agonizing. But it went even further than that, losing both his parents, combined with the last eight years of raising and protecting his precious Georgiana, while having so many lives depend upon the success of Pemberley, had been lonely, at times frightening, and often overwhelming. It had been so long since someone had cared for him. His sister cared for him in her sweet, girlish way, and it was soothing, but never one who was his equal, into whose eyes he saw such love and strength, into whose arms he could relax. She had pledged her life to him, and she was a lioness. Darcy knew her care for him would be sublime. He was nearly overcome. Darcy laid his forehead upon her and exhaled. Elizabeth’s love felt so good.
“I love you, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, and Darcy groaned.
“I love you, my darling, more than life,” came Darcy’s fervent response. Darcy held her tightly. He was home. He was loved. He was no longer alone, and it was magnificent. He kissed her, and she wound her arms around his neck, and it sent Darcy spiraling. He pulled her onto his lap and invaded her mouth with his tongue. Elizabeth froze for a moment, then she moaned, and returned his passion, and Darcy was undone, consumed with the need to be one with her in body as he was already in soul. Suppressing a moan and an eyeroll to the back of the head, Darcy pulled away from the wild kiss. It was bliss, but he knew that he had to release her, for he did not know how long he could vouch for his self-control. He had loved her for so long, and her love was so sweet, her body so soft, and he was just a man. Darcy settled her back onto the sofa and tucked her beneath his chin as he struggled to calm his breathing. She looked at him with such trusting, shining eyes, and he nearly lost his will again. But she did not fully know what such intimacies could lead to; he did. He determined to stay clear of such intimate settings in the future; it was the only way he could remain strong.
Men of Consequence Page 41
