Chapter 8
Elizabeth lay down on the soft, warm sand, closing her eyes.
At sunset, the sky and the water united to produce the same colour of blue with a touch of orange.
The sea was as still as a mirror, and the beach was empty and silent.
Her muslin gown was still wet from her earlier foray into the water, and the breeze wafted it around her body as the sand tickled her feet.
Even when a shadow fell over her, she kept her eyes closed and held her breath. Someone was standing between her and the sun, and her heart raced and her skin tingled with countless thrills. She did not need to look; she knew who it was. She felt him.
He leant down towards her, and his scent made her dizzy; his body was warmer than the hot sand, but she still shivered. His fingers gently brushed over her face, and she finally opened her eyes, only to meet his, so close, so dark, penetrating her soul.
His shirt was open, revealing his neck and his chest. Tentatively, she pulled the fabric away from his shoulder, caressing him and lingering upon the scar.
“Does it still hurt?” she whispered.
“Most of the time, no. Even if it did, your touch would palliate any pain,” he whispered back, his cheek close to hers, his tongue tantalising her earlobe.
She shivered again and moaned, closing her eyes once more; but his lips gently pressed over her lashes, opening them.
His body was now covering her, and every fibre of her being could feel him. His lips continued their journey across her face, her jaw, her throat, then claimed hers in a breathtaking kiss that lasted too long to count but ended too soon.
Her mouth opened, gasping for air, while his returned to exploring her body, soon joined by his eager yet gentle hands finding their way under the saturated fabric of her dress.
She moaned again, arching towards his touch, then let out a cry when his fingers brushed over her breasts.
He silenced her with another kiss, and her lips parted for him.
His right hand wandered lower, then slowly glided between her thighs with gentle yet burning caresses.
Her left hand threaded through his hair, pulling him closer, while her right dared to begin its own exploration.
His wet shirt brushed over her half-naked body, and he wrenched it off, his bare chest pressing over hers before rolling over, pulling her with him.
She was now on top, his arms closed around her back, allowing her the freedom to choose what to do next.
She lowered herself over him, her breasts pressing upon his chest, her hands stroking his face then entwining in his hair, her mouth taking a turn to capture his…
until the quivering increased and her name sounded strangely loud in that perfectly still silence.
“Lizzy! Lizzy, wake up! What is wrong? Are you ill?”
Bewildered, flushed, her heart racing and barely able to catch her breath, Elizabeth opened her eyes to see Jane’s worried countenance hovering over her.
“No…I am not ill…why would you ask?”
“You were restless and whispered something and moaned… I thought you had a fever or you were in pain.”
Elizabeth’s cheeks and neck burned as she struggled to form an answer.
“I am sorry for waking you. I am perfectly well. I just had a strange dream…”
“A dream? Are you certain you are well?”
“Entirely certain, dearest. Let us go back to sleep,” Elizabeth replied, pulling the sheets over her head to end the discussion.
Her body was still shaking, cold shivers running over her skin; as shocking as it was, she could still detect his scent, his warmth, the trace of his touches, and her lips were dry and swollen.
What was happening to her? Had she lost her mind and her senses completely?
No, her senses were stirred, not lost, which frightened her deeply.
She had never experienced such sensations and was mortified to even recollect them!
If Mr Darcy, the man who had haunted her dreams, could imagine only half of what had crossed her mind, he would certainly be appalled and disgusted.
How would she ever dare face him again? Surely her countenance would betray her when they next met.
Being alone with him for even a moment, or walking with him to Oakham Mount, was absolutely impossible.
Her common sense, her judgment, and every rule of decorum forbade it.
She had to put that dream aside and remind herself to think and behave properly, beginning the next morning.
However, when she closed her eyes again, she hoped for sleep to return and draw her back into that dream that had delighted and horrified her so profoundly. But she was disappointed; she did not fall asleep again for a long time afterwards, and no dreams disturbed her further.
In the morning, a headache gripped her temples and ruined her disposition.
It was the day before the assembly, and Mrs Bennet caused an uproar in the house, mostly related to Jane’s attire, which was intended to charm Mr Bingley.
Elizabeth managed to escape for a walk, but she did not dare to go any farther than the garden.
She dreaded the notion of meeting Mr Darcy before she was able to clear her mind of all those disturbing thoughts.
Even worse, her recollections of the dream still lingered on her lips, on her body…
How could she remember so vividly something that had not even happened?
In truth, she had felt Mr Darcy’s arm around her waist, keeping her from coming to harm in the water; she had seen his naked chest and touched his skin, but how could her mind have twisted the circumstances in such a maddening way?
Her reflections were interrupted by a gust of wind, and a few drops of rain pushed her back into the house.
Shortly afterwards, it began pouring, and the wind howled fiercely.
Mrs Bennet whined bitterly about the weather and how it might affect the next day’s assembly.
Elizabeth experienced annoyance and relief at the same time; with such weather, she could not be tempted to walk farther from the house, and the chances of meeting Mr Darcy consequently diminished.
She would probably see him at the assembly, but she hoped that, by then, she would be calmer and able to present herself with composure — and with no hint of the distracting dream.
The storm continued overnight, and in the morning, it was still cloudy. Elizabeth slept ill, but there was no other dream to blame for the headache that returned to bother her.
Around noon, the entire family began their preparations for the assembly. Mr Bennet was undecided whether he would attend or not, making Mrs Bennet petulant. After teasing his wife for a few hours, he finally agreed to accompany the ladies.
Elizabeth dressed and arranged her hair with increasing nervousness.
She studied her appearance in the mirror several times, making adjustments until she was finally pleased with her look.
Then she grew more irritated, wondering why she had gone to so much trouble.
After all, it was just a regular assembly, like the many others before it, with the usual neighbours in attendance.
With the addition of Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy.
“Lizzy, are you well? Did you not hear me?” Lydia had entered the room and was standing at her elbow.
“Forgive me. I was distracted. Do you need something?”
“Yes, your pearl necklace. May I borrow it? I see you are not wearing it, and it would go nicely with my gown.”
“Of course. Let me help you put it on.”
“You look very pretty, Lizzy.”
“Thank you. So do you.”
“You both look lovely, girls, though neither of you can compare with Jane,” Mrs Bennet interjected, bustling into the room.
“How unfortunate that there are not enough eligible young men to admire you. The Lucas boys are pleasant and handsome but almost penniless, and single men are scarce in our part of Hertfordshire.”
“I heard a militia regiment are to camp in Meryton for the winter. They should arrive in a fortnight!” Lydia replied joyfully. “Uncle Phillips said so. If only this assembly was to take place a few weeks later. How wonderful it would be if we could dance with officers!”
“If there are to be officers here, then I am sure there will be more balls too. They all love dancing,” Mrs Bennet said. “When I was young, I was partial to a man in uniform.”
Elizabeth glanced up; her father was standing in the doorway.
He raised an eyebrow at his wife but did not reply to her statement, saying instead, “If you are ready, Felton will take you to Meryton, then return to fetch me. It will be a squeeze with six of you in the carriage as it is, but you should manage over such a short distance.”
“You should buy a larger one, Papa!” Lydia said.
“I shall, my child, as soon as you provide me with the necessary funds for such an investment,” Mr Bennet replied sharply.
Half an hour later, the Bennet ladies ascended the steps to the assembly hall for the long-awaited event.
Elizabeth’s heart was pounding. She struggled to compose herself, annoyed by her response, and cast a quick look around the ballroom.
Most of the guests were already gathered — but not the subject of her interest.
“Come, girls, let us find seats for Mary and me. I expect the rest of you will dance,” Mrs Bennet said. “There are my sister Phillips and Lady Lucas. Oh, and Charlotte and Maria. I am so happy you girls are prettier than them!”
“Mama!” Elizabeth interjected in a low voice. Her mother paid her no mind, though, hurrying off to join the other matrons while Kitty and Lydia ran to their friends.
Elizabeth, Jane, and Mary remained together, standing near the wall, close to a column. Shortly afterwards, Mr Bennet arrived too and secured himself a chair and a drink.