Apprehension and Desire: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (5 page)

she had done well yesterday in accepting him. She must think about Jane and her family.

“Miss Bennet!” she heard, and he was approaching her hastily, smiling at her.

Elizabeth smiled back meekly and was instantly surprised again that instead of his usual serious bow, he reached directly for her hands, lifting them to his lips.

“Your hands are cold.” He rubbed her hands in his. “Where are your gloves?” Only then did she notice she had forgotten to put on her gloves.

“I have forgotten them,” she murmured, avoiding his searching eyes.

“Elizabeth, what were you thinking? What if you catch a cold?” he scolded her, but keeping the tone of his voice gentle. “The mornings are still chilly.”

“I do not feel cold, sir,” she whispered. “I shall be fine.”

He did not stop rubbing her hands, till he reached with his right hand to touch her nose. “You are definitely cold.” He frowned.

Before she could protest, she was in his embrace like yesterday, his hands rubbing her back and arms. “Here you go,” he murmured, pulling her to himself, enveloping her into his great coat.

“What am I to do with you?” he demanded, closing his coat around her. “Sporting out of the house without gloves on such a cold morning?” He tightened the lapels of his greatcoat more securely around her. “Are you feeling warmer now? The climate in Derbyshire is much more severe than in the south of the country. I will have to see that you dress properly when going for a walk.”

She managed to put a small space between them and looked up into his eyes that even to her were full of desire and longing.

“You smell so good,” he murmured, pressing her again to him, his face dipping into her neck.

“Mr. Darcy,...” she tried to stop him, her eyes widening in apprehension.

“Please,” he rasped thickly. “Let me.” He bent his head down and caught her lower lip between both of his. “Let me, Lizzy. Just one kiss,” he murmured and cupped her face with trembling fingers, deepening the kiss.

“No!” she tore away from him after a short moment. “I cannot.” She walked to the other end of the grove. “I cannot do it,” she repeated, her voice stronger.

“Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy’s confused eyes followed her. “What is the meaning of this?”

Everything in her screamed to tell him that she had made a mistake yesterday saying yes, that she could not marry him. It was not too late yet to back away. What should she do? She did not want a life like that of the Parker sisters, but marrying a man for whom she had no feelings, nor any respect, whose character she doubted? Could she do that?

“It is all happening so fast.” She shook her head, standing with her back to him. “I barely know you. Perhaps we... should wait ... we know each other so little... not enough to take on such a serious commitment.”

He strode to her and turned her to look at him.  “Elizabeth, I do not understand. We are engaged. You agreed to marry me.”

“I know, but... I am not sure whether it was a good decision.” She looked to the side, avoiding his eyes. “I have second thoughts.”

She stiffened when he pulled her to him, but more gently this time, keeping a safe space between them. “Forgive me. I should not have...,” he sighed. “You are so bright, self confident, so lively, that I tend to forget how young and innocent you really are.” He reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.  “I promise to try to restrain myself from touching you till you feel more comfortable in my company, though it will not be easy for me.”

“It is not only that...,” she whispered.

“I can understand that this situation is very new for you,” he spoke, his voice patient. “You simply must accustom yourself to it.”

Elizabeth searched the dark brown eyes; they were honest, concerned, warm, as if he truly cared for her.

“I do not know what to do,” she whispered helplessly, more to herself than to him.

There was a long silence. She felt his eyes on her the entire time.

“Have you written a letter to your father?” Darcy asked abruptly.

She gave him a surprised look. His expression changed, he wore his usual unreadable mask. “Yes, I have.”

“Do you have it now?” he prompted.

Slowly, hesitantly, she reached to the hidden pocket of her dress and took out the letter.

Darcy nearly snatched it from her hand. “Do not fret. It is expected you may be apprehensive. Marriage to me will alter your life completely, after all,” he said in a voice of cold superiority. You will be Mistress of a great estate now, not just a country miss with no consequence in the world, scampering around the fields.”

Elizabeth went pale and then scarlet at his arrogance and this new insult. She was about to retort sharply, but then she was taken aback when he stepped to her and placed a soft kiss on the side of her neck, just below her bonnet ribbon.

“I will return to you as soon as possible,” he whispered into her neck, squeezed her hand and was gone.

“Wait!” she cried after his retreating figure, but he did not stop.

“What I have done?” she whispered, covering her burning face with her hands. “He is so ruthless... so arrogant. How can I bear such a man, share my life with him? Oh, Good God!”

Darcy pounded the pillow with his fist repeatedly before he buried his head deeply into it and closed his eyes with determination. The sooner he fell asleep, the more quickly the morning would come and he would be able to leave the place. It was nearly eleven, but the house was far from quiet. Every few minutes, someone was running down the corridor, and the doors were open and closed many times. There were muffled voices and laughs coming every few minutes from the adjacent room. Did this family never retire? What a wild family the Bennets were! How could his lovely, intelligent Elizabeth abide living in such a household?

His thoughts returned to his dark haired Lizzy, and a shadow of worry tugged his heart. She had been so retreated, unwelcoming this morning. He was ever afraid she would want to call off their understanding. He could not allow it. She was the only one for him, and they were so well matched for each other. He just needed some time to make her see it.

She had some doubts. He could feel her reluctant attitude, her apprehension, though, honestly, he failed to understand why she was so hesitant. His offer was the best that could ever happen to her. She was a reasonable and intelligent creature. She must have seen the benefits of his marriage offer. She would lack nothing as his wife; he would love and cherish her as long as he lived.  Most importantly, she would be many miles away from her insufferable family.

He rolled onto his stomach. He had planned the day in detail, and it certainly had not gone as he had expected. He was to meet Elizabeth in the morning, fervently hoping to steal a kiss or two, then reach Meryton by the afternoon, pay a quick call to Longbourn to ascertain Mr. Bennet’s consent, spend the night at the inn, and return to Kent by   afternoon the next day.

However, so far, he had no reason to be pleased. Elizabeth had been shy and unresponsive in the morning. Her father had treated him harshly, as some villain wanting to deprive him of his favourite daughter (which, truth to be told, was exactly what Darcy wanted to do).

Mr. Bennet, as a supposedly intelligent person, should have perceived what an honour Darcy had bestowed on his second daughter with his offer. However, the older man had not only refused him Elizabeth’s hand, but he had ridiculed him and exposed him to the unwanted attentions of Mrs. Bennet as well. Darcy groaned, questioning how it was possible that such a silly woman could have birthed his Elizabeth. What was even worse, Mr. Bennet had not proved to be   much better than his wife, almost openly laughing at his expense during the dinner when Mrs. Bennet had attempted to force Darcy to eat every dish which had been served, stating he had been in need of feeding up.

No, indeed, the day had not gone well at all for Darcy.

Some minutes later, when he was on the verge of sleep, calmed with the thoughts of seeing his Elizabeth tomorrow, being close to her, having her fine eyes looking at him, he heard a sort of scraping.

“Mice?” he frowned.

The scraping repeated, followed by  prolonged, stifled giggling coming/emanating? from the corridor.

“What the hell?” he murmured as he got out of bed and strode across the room.

He shoved the door open with one wide move of his arm, only to see the two youngest Bennet girls just in their nightclothes, long blonde hair  hanging   loosely around their shoulders, squatted on the floor at his feet.

For a long moment, Lydia and Kitty only gaped, with round, blue, unblinking eyes at his imposing figure, clad in a nightshirt, but then Lydia glanced down at his hairy, bare legs. She nudged her sister with her elbow to look down, and both girls erupted into a new wave of wild laughter at the sight of his calves and feet.

Darcy shut the door, turned the key in the lock and checked again whether it was definitely closed.

“If you knew what I suffer for you, Elizabeth,” he murmured into the pillow as he got back under the covers.

***

Earlier that day, Darcy  had been seated in the dusty, darkish library, cluttered with the books from the floor to the ceiling, watching Mr. Bennet, who sat in the overstuffed armchair, his dark eyes, Elizabeth’ eyes, concentrated on the letter in his hand, which Darcy had handed to him, read  it with the most the incredible expression on his face.

For the first time, perhaps, Darcy had the opportunity to take a good look at the older gentleman and was stricken with the great resemblance between his beloved and her father. They had the same eyes, framed with feminine, extremely long, curled at the ends thick eyelashes, thin nose, and high intelligent forehead. Even what little was left of Mr. Bennet’s silver hair had a decided curl to it.

Mr. Bennet arched an eyebrow, imitating Elizabeth's expression to perfection. “Mr. Darcy, I congratulate you.”

Darcy gave him a cautious look. “You do?” he cleared his throat. “Thank you, sir.”

“Yes, I do, I do.” Mr. Bennet smiled. “You surprised me today, and I can tell you that there is very little in this world that can surprise me.”

“There is?”

“Yes, indeed. Your visit was a surprise in itself, to be sure, but this...,” he waved the paper, “I am reading this letter, and I see that my daughter’s hand penned it, though I still cannot believe that she wrote it.”

Darcy frowned. “I assure you that I received it from her this very morning.”

“Still, it definitely sounds as if it had been written by someone else, and not my Lizzy. Listen to this, Mr. Darcy. Mr Bennet reopened the letter and quoted. „The gentleman has done me an honour to propose marriage to me, and you can be sure of my full consent to his kind offer.”

Darcy smiled.

Mr. Bennet folded the letter, put it into a thick volume, which he placed on the top of one shaky book heap beside him.

“Forgive me, Mr. Darcy, but I simply cannot understand why she wants to accept the man she always called most disagreeable, whom she professed to dislike most of all the gentlemen of her acquaintance.”

Darcy’s smile fell flat. “I know nothing of that,” he murmured.

The other man gave him a long, inquisitive, assessing look. “Mr. Darcy, may I ask how it happened that you developed such an affection for my daughter Elizabeth? I understand that you indeed have some feelings for her if you want to marry her.”

Darcy tried to square his shoulders even more than he already had. “From the very beginning of our acquaintance, I have held Miss Elizabeth in the highest esteem....”

“You have?” Mr. Bennet interrupted him, both his eyebrows arched. “Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy, we both know that is a lie,” he stated good humouredly.

“We do?” Darcy asked stupidly, then shook his head with a frown. “ I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, sir.”

Mr. Bennet sighed and spoke with little patience in his voice. “Let us be truthful, Mr. Darcy, shall we? So far as I remember, you refused to even dance with her, finding her not tolerable enough, if I recall correctly, not handsome enough to tempt a man such as you.”

Darcy closed and opened his mouth several times before he stammered. “I... I was not aware that she heard...”

“She did.”

“I must apologize to her then,” he said quietly. “Mr. Bennet, I was in bad mood that evening. Bingley insisted that I attend that Assembly, and in general, I dislike such gatherings... I usually prefer to stay home in my own company or with the people dear to me, like my sister.”

“I can understand your dislike for large gatherings, believe me, Mr Darcy. I feel the same about it. Still I do not know why you decided to slight my daughter without even knowing her.”

Darcy squirmed in his chair. “I thought that Bingley was trying to force another dull young lady into my company,” he admitted  “The remark was not directed against your daughter but rather against all the ladies present at the Assembly that evening and the other women in Hertfordshire, London, and, in fact, the entire of England.”

“I see, very interesting, young man, very interesting...,” Mr. Bennet pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes twinkling in amusement. “You dislike all females, I gather.”