Chapter 28 #3
“So in the last three months, all my torment was for nothing? I could have held you in my arms all this time? Why did you not say a word to me?” he inquired tenderly.
Her eyes were still tearful. “Why did you not ask?”
“How could I dare ask when I did not know your feelings had changed? If you had given me but a little encouragement…”
“How could I dare give you encouragement when I did not know your feelings had not changed? You avoided me. You were always grave and silent. You could have talked to me more!”
“A man who felt less might. But I was so embarrassed by the strength of my feelings and desires…”
Her lips and eyes laughed at him while her hand caressed his face again, daring to move lower along the line of his jaw.
“How unlucky that you should have a reasonable answer to give and that I should be so reasonable as to admit it! But I wonder how long you would have gone on if you had been left to yourself! I wonder how long you would have wandered around the country if I had not written to you! And I only did that after a harsh and entirely improper conversation with Lady Hardwick! What becomes of the moral if our present happiness springs from a breach of decorum? This will never do.”
He laughed and suddenly covered her face with small kisses. She chuckled and turned away, falling back on the bed, pulling him with her. He stopped and again withdrew, fingers replacing lips in his soft caress of her face.
“I would have spoken —eventually. By the time I reached London, I knew that my departure was useless. I only suffered more from longing and jealousy. Have I mentioned that I am jealous of Lord Mowbray? And of my cousin? And of Wickham back in Hertfordshire last autumn.”
Lying on the bed, she was trapped beneath him, his body only supported by his elbows and almost brushing against hers. She stared in complete disbelief. The dangerous closeness seemed to trouble him even more, so he rose and gently pulled her up with him.
She continued to stare at him, as if to puzzle out his words.
“You were jealous of them? But I never…” She paused then added, “I was jealous of Lady Emmeline. And of all the other young ladies who might capture your attention in Town.”
His smile broadened.
“No other woman ever caught my attention as you did, Elizabeth. No one ever touched my heart in such a way, and nobody ever made me lose my reason and self-control as you did.”
He slowly moved closer to her. She closed her eyes, eager to sense the heartmelting feelings one more time.
His lips caressed hers again, as gently as before, then tasted them.
She moaned and stopped breathing at the new sensation.
She parted her lips, without knowing why, and circled her arms around his neck.
Her body and her mind soon were lost in a rapture that became intoxicating. The kiss deepened and left her breathless. She needed air, but she needed him more, so she allowed herself to be trapped in the sweet torment until he put an end to it.
“If you only knew how many times I have dreamed of you, Elizabeth…” he said as he tenderly caressed her face.
“Then tell me…how many times?” she whispered.
“Too many to remember…every night…and every day…every moment since that evening at Sir William’s when you refused to dance with me…”
“You must have been upset with me then. Your dreams could not have been lovely…” she teased him.
“Quite the contrary. They were…lovelier than I could dare tell you now… perhaps one day…after we marry. But not as lovely as the reality. Your scent is more exhilarating and your skin softer than I imagined…and your eyes sparkle more brightly, and your lips are so delectable. I was starved for them when I believed my hunger would ever be sated.”
Elizabeth shivered under the power of his fervent words and hoarse voice; his passionate confession overwhelmed her senses, and she found no strength to reply.
“My love, I should leave now,” Darcy said.
He rose to stand, holding her tightly so that she remained in his arms.
“Yes, you should.”
“But I wish to stay…more than I ever wanted anything before…”
Her eyes smiled at him shyly.
“As do I. And I believe you have an excellent reason to remain longer, sir. You still have not asked me…”
He seemed puzzled, and it was several moments before he understood. Her beauty glowed under his passionate gaze as he took her hands in his, bringing them to his heart.
“In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My love cannot be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I have dreamt of you every single day and every single night of the last year, and I beg you to make my dreams come true by agreeing to be my wife.”
Her mirth combined with tears of happiness, and she replied with trembling voice and laughing eyes.
“I do not know the established mode to express my acceptance in such cases as this. But I know there is nothing in the world I want more than to be your wife. Such happiness I did not dare to dream after everything that has happened, after the objections against my family with Lydia’s marriage and —”
She was silenced and imprisoned by another tempestuous kiss, so passionate that it conquered her senses and her thoughts. He wished to hear nothing more, and she wished to feel nothing but the delight that had built a fire inside her.
“I must leave, my love. I must leave now,” he repeated decidedly. “I will see you again in the morning. Please think of when you prefer to have the wedding. We will inform the others…and then I will write to your father. But I must leave this very moment, or else I shall not leave at all.”
She was slightly puzzled by his sudden haste and embarrassed by her desire to keep him longer.
She then felt ashamed by her lack of gratitude.
Only a few hours ago she was tormented as much by his absence as by uncertainty for the future, and now she had everything she prayed for —and still wanted more.
“I will see you in the morning, my love,” she whispered while he kissed her hands again and left, closing the door quietly behind him. Amazingly, it was the same door she opened earlier, allowing him to enter and bring happiness to her life —in the middle of the night —as in all dreams.
Torment and struggle had ruined Darcy’s sleep for more than a year, and now happiness and the fulfilment of his wishes left him equally restless.
He had actually run from Elizabeth —again —when he feared he would lose his self-control.
She agreed to be his wife. She had loved him and longed for him for months.
She received his profession of love and offered hers in return.
More than her words, he could see the love in her eyes and recognise it in her restrained, timid passion. But he could not permit more to happen.
She was a guest in his house and his sister’s friend. She would become his betrothed as soon as Mr. Bennet gave his blessing and be his wife the day of their marriage. Until then, he still had to be cautious and wait. He had waited many months; surely, he could bear it a little longer.
Or not.