What Would Mr. Darcy Do? (8 page)

How earnestly did she then wish that her former opinions had been more reasonable, her expressions more moderate! “There was a time when I would have said so, but for some time I have felt… quite differently.”

“Or in other words, you are determined to have him. He is rich, to be sure, and you may have more fine clothes and fine carriages than Jane. But will they make you happy?”

“I would marry him if he hadn’t a penny, and, while I would prefer to marry him with your blessing, the lack of it will not stop me.”

He observed her silently for a few moments. “Well, Lizzy, I confess you have truly surprised me. I cannot think of any man of our acquaintance who I would consider a less likely candidate to win your affections.”

“Nonetheless, that is the situation.”

“I see.” He paused. “May I ask who else may be aware of this?”

“The Gardiners have known for some time, and more recently, Jane and Bingley. Miss Darcy as well, of course.”

“You told the Gardiners, and they said nothing of it to me?” he said with deceptive mildness.

“It was more a matter of their discovering it than being told,” she said, smiling slightly at the memory. “And, if I am not mistaken, Mr. Gardiner tried to say something of it to you, but you disbelieved him.”

“So I did,” he said thoughtfully. “Well, Lizzy, what would you have me do?”

She sighed in relief at this attempt to meet her halfway. “I would ask that you try to get to know him, with an open mind, remembering much of your unfortunate impression of him is based on Wickham’s lies.”

“That seems a fair enough request. What do you plan to tell your mother?”

“Nothing,” Elizabeth responded with heartfelt sentiment. “Not until I have to.”

Mr. Bennet gave an ironic smile. “Well, I shall keep this matter between the two of us until you tell me otherwise. Lizzy, you have given me a great deal to think about, and perhaps we can discuss this further when I have had the opportunity to do so.”

“I would like that,” she said, turning to leave.

“And Lizzy? I’m glad that you told me.”

Elizabeth, with a strong sense of relief, said, “So am I.”

Elizabeth, her anxiety much reduced following her discussion with Mr. Bennet, found herself over the next few days doing nothing so much as waiting for Darcy’s return. She walked out with Georgiana on occasion, showing her the sights of Meryton and its vicinity, helped with wedding preparations, calmed her excitable mother, and otherwise seemed full of activity, but her thoughts had only one goal.

She spent less time with her guest than she would have expected, since Georgiana quickly formed an alliance with Mary and Kitty. Elizabeth was fascinated to observe the interactions between the three very diverse young women. Kitty was much taken with Georgiana’s graceful ways, and set to imitating them as assiduously as she ever had Lydia’s wildness, while Georgiana seemed drawn into some of Kitty’s liveliness. Mary, finding Georgiana respectful of her accomplishments, and, much to her surprise, not above asking for her assistance and advice with her music, seemed to feel more confident of herself; and while the younger girl was more than happy to spend hours reading with Mary, she pushed hard for reading poetry and novels over sermons. Elizabeth doubted the efficacy of this until she came across Mary reading a romantic novel one day, which Mary defensively informed her was one that Georgiana had praised. Mary found it hard to ignore when Kitty and Georgiana went off into long discussions on fashions and hairstyles, and eventually was pressed into developing some small interest in the topic herself so as not to be left out, causing the other two to coax her into making some small, but flattering, changes in her hair and manner of dress.

Elizabeth, pleased to hear the constant conversations, laughing and romping between the three, on occasion found herself feeling more like an aunt than an elder sister. It seemed likely to her that Georgiana’s previous shy and quiet behavior might have been related to being always surrounded by persons much older than herself, and to her constant awareness of her complicity in the Ramsgate affair.

She also suspected, based on a certain amount of giggling apparently directed toward her, that keeping secrecy became too difficult for Georgiana, and that her sisters had been let in on the news of Darcy’s interest in her as well. Mr. Bennet had turned out to have very little to say on the subject of Darcy after their late-night talk, beyond once asking Elizabeth when she had come to change her opinion of him.

One day, some five days before Darcy was expected—as Elizabeth kept track of time—Mary, Kitty, and Georgiana walked out to Meryton. Mrs. Bennet visited Mrs. Philips, leaving Elizabeth with time enough to enjoy the unseasonable warmth of the day by collecting fall fruits from the garden for a centerpiece. She found herself particularly taking pleasure in the quiet of the gardens, knowing Jane and the Gardiner family would be arriving from London on the following day, and she could expect little more peace until after the wedding. Allowing herself to luxuriate in the feeling of the sun on her shoulders and the gentle breeze, she was sublimely unaware of the presence of an interested observer.

Darcy found himself captivated by the image of Elizabeth, the sunlight gilding her hair, as she passed gracefully from the small orchard into the vineyard. He watched with longing the dance of her precise, calm movements as she clipped clusters of grapes, allowing them to drop gently without bruising into her waiting hand, then transferring them to the basket. Her exposed neck as she bent over seemed to beg for his kisses, and he controlled himself only by gripping the trellis beside him with sufficient force to cause his hand to ache.

Finally he brought himself to speak her name. He saw her become still at the unexpected sound of his voice, then she turned to face him, her eyes alight, wreaking havoc with his every intention of composure.

Elizabeth, taken unawares, felt a not unpleasant sense of agitation. “Mr. Darcy,” she said. “This is a most pleasant surprise.”

“Not ‘Mr. Darcy,’ Elizabeth. Not to you.”

Elizabeth felt breathless. “Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, feeling both shy and extraordinarily alive.

He willed his hands to stay still. Mesmerized by the sparkle in her fine eyes, he could find no words to express the eagerness he felt just being near her. She took his breath away.

As the silence drew on, her mouth twitched in amusement. “Perhaps we should begin this conversation anew, sir. I could say, ‘Why, I did not expect you for some days yet,’ to which you could reply with an acknowledgement of your change in plans; I could inquire about your journey, and you might ask about the well-being of your sister.”

Amused, he decided that two could play at this game. “Then, perhaps, you could report to me about the success of her visit, and I could tell you just how long I have been waiting and hoping to have you greet me with just that look in your eyes, how even last year when you stayed at Netherfield, I would watch when your eyes would light up with pleasure, and wish most fervently such a look could be for me.”

“Even then? I thought you watched me only with intent to find fault.”

“To find fault? I cannot imagine why; I would have thought it obvious I watched you because it gave me the greatest of pleasure.”

Elizabeth laughed. “My aunt Gardiner says you and I have a talent for misconstruing each other. I am glad to see we are both improving in our understanding.”

“As long as I am not misconstruing my welcome, I am quite content.” How was he to keep from touching her when she looked so beguiling? It was hopeless. He reached out and caught her hand, but instead of providing relief, her touch merely increased his desire.

Elizabeth’s mouth went dry. With an attempt at control, she said with a degree of desperation, “I believe you may feel quite secure in your welcome, but we do face a problem, sir, in that everyone aware of our need for chaperonage is presently in London.”

He smiled meaningfully. “Yes, I am quite aware of that; as I called on the Gardiners yesterday when I was in town.”

“Ah. I must assume you are very brave, then, to dare to approach me,” she said lightly, her heart pounding so fiercely she felt sure he must be able to hear it.

“Hardly brave, my dearest. Remember that, having already lost my heart to you, I have nothing left to lose.” He touched her cheek lightly with his fingertips, then moved them lightly along her hairline and down the sensitive skin of her neck. “After all, the worst I could face would be your father, who would demand that I marry you immediately, to which I would say…” he paused, his eyes fixed on his fingers as they continued to trace their way agonizingly slowly along the line of her exposed collarbone, “…would tomorrow be soon enough, because if not…” His lips found their way to a delicate caress of her neck. “…I am quite at leisure this afternoon.”

Aroused to the point of distraction by his touch, she gave a small, inarticulate moan, and put her hands to his shoulders to steady herself. Stirred even further by this encouragement, Darcy continued his exploration of her arched neck and the crevices of her shoulders with his lips until, unable to withstand his need any longer, he sought her mouth with his own.

The delicate control Darcy had shown in touching her earlier dissolved in the increasing urgency of his kisses. She shivered as his hand stroked down her back, and, arching her body against his, surrendered to the demands of his mouth. Her hands crept up around his neck, then buried themselves in his hair. He held her tightly, inflamed by the depth of her response. The passion her touch evoked in him went beyond his furthest imaginings.

As he turned the attention of his lips to her face, Elizabeth could not stop herself from whispering his name with the deepest of longing. Feeling completely undone by the passion he had awakened in her, she could only abandon herself to the pleasure his touch induced in her with no thought for the future.

With a groan, Darcy lifted his lips and pulled her head against his shoulder. Burying his face in her hair, he whispered, “You are everything I have ever dreamed of.”

Elizabeth, trembling, found herself leaning against him for support as she sought, with no great success, to collect herself.

Within the security of Darcy’s arms, Elizabeth struggled to recover from the uncontrollable feelings his kisses had aroused in her. She was all too aware it was only his self-restraint that had prevented the situation from going any further beyond the bounds of propriety than it already had. With some discomfiture, she said, “Well, Mr. Darcy, we seem to have obtained evidence which suggests that any inadequacies in your self-control have been greatly overrated.”

“I endeavor to keep surprising you,” he said, a slight unsteadiness in his voice betraying the battle he was fighting. “I hope that I did not… alarm you with my attentions.”

“I am far more embarrassed than alarmed, and I certainly do not hold you responsible for that,” she said. She had never allowed him just to hold her before, and she was astonished by the contentment she felt in his arms.

He kissed her hair. “My dearest Elizabeth, if you only knew how very gratifying and reassuring your behavior is to me, you might feel less embarrassed—you might even look upon it as a charitable effort on your part.”

“An excellent idea!” Elizabeth laughed, looking up at him, but making no move to leave his arms. “Having failed at my studies of patience and self-control, I should begin work on a new virtue, and charity—at least by your definition of it!—seems to be something I manage to practice whether I intend to or not.”

“You may practice on me to your heart’s content, Miss Bennet, so long as you wait until my self-control is at least slightly more in evidence than it is at this moment.”

She smiled. “I may play with fire, sir, but I try to steer clear of bonfires.” Some of his earlier words came back to her. “But I would hope you do not stand in any particular need of charitable reassurance from me.”

He was silent for a moment, but she could feel his tension. “Elizabeth, please recall that only a few months ago you considered me the last man of your acquaintance you could be prevailed upon to marry. While evidence indicates your opinion of me has improved—I would hope that by now I would rate above, say, Mr. Collins as a marital partner—reassurance is always welcome, and often needed.”

“Must you remember so well everything I said that awful day?” Elizabeth asked with chagrin.

He allowed his hands to caress her for a moment. “Please do not distress yourself over the past, my dearest; some of your words have proved quite memorable, but I seem to recall saying more than my share of such words!”

“Then I must strive for even more memorable ones to suit the present situation.”

He gave the slight smile which always tugged at her heart. “I am all ears, my sweetest Elizabeth.”

She pulled away from him just far enough that she could look into his eyes. “Is this sufficiently memorable?” she said, her heart beating rapidly. “Mr. Darcy, I would be delighted and most honored to become your wife.”

His first reaction was disbelief, for since his overconfidence in Kent, he had never allowed himself to fully believe he would ever earn her consent. This was followed immediately by a feeling of heartfelt delight such as he had never before felt.
She will be mine!
he thought.
She will make me complete again.
He swallowed hard as an image from his dreams came to him—Elizabeth, her eyes full of passion, in his bed and in his arms—merging with the sensation of the very real woman he held in his arms. He said unsteadily, “I believe the traditional response is to tell you that you have made me the happiest of men, but even those words cannot do justice to how very, very happy you have made me.”

“Well, let us not defy tradition, although, were we to be strictly traditional, I should have waited to be asked before supplying my answer!”

Taking her face between his hands, he kissed her deeply and possessively, the kind of kiss that claims a bond rather than overwhelms with passion. “Elizabeth, my own, so long as you never leave me, I will say anything you wish, but I believe you are well aware of my hopes and wishes.”

“There is nothing you need to say, Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, allowing herself the pleasure of touching his cheek lightly.

His eyes ignited with a familiar look, and she could see the battle he was fighting with himself. “There is one more thing…” he began, then faltered as Elizabeth, smiling provocatively, slid her arms around his neck, “…which we can discuss later,” he concluded in a somewhat strangled voice as he responded in the only possible way.

Had Elizabeth thought his passion would be in some way more controlled with his better understanding of her regard for him, she would have had to revise that opinion quite rapidly as his fiery kisses burned her lips with unrestrained ardor. She found that what had begun with an affectionate and intimate gesture on her part rapidly turned into a conflagration in which her passion rose to meet his. She felt lost in a flood of sensation as he explored her mouth, and, as he moved his attention to her face and her neck, she found herself arching her head back to allow further liberties.

Darcy, having unwisely allowed himself to imagine his nights with Elizabeth, found those thoughts had wrought havoc with his self-restraint. He felt all resolve melt as Elizabeth gave into the temptation to allow her fingers to roam through his hair and over the exposed skin of his neck. His lips fully occupied with investigating the hollows over her collarbone, he found his hands seeking to explore the gentle curves of her spine.

Elizabeth’s involuntary gasp of pleasure brought her attention back to herself, and, with a Herculean effort of will, she sought to extricate herself from his embrace, and laid her fingers lightly over his lips. Meeting his eyes, dark with passion, almost destroyed her resolve, but she somehow managed to maintain her distance.

Darcy forced his breathing to slow. “I hope you are not planning to insist on a long engagement,” he said.

“That would appear to be unwise,” Elizabeth allowed, sounding a good deal calmer than she felt.

“Then perhaps we should take appropriate steps,” he said softly. He removed a small box from his pocket, and, taking her hand, opened it to show her a ring of sapphire and diamond. “I was carrying this when I called on you at the inn in Lambton,” he said as he slid it slowly onto her finger. “My father gave this to my mother when he asked her to be his wife.”