Chapter 16
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
When they had left the ball this morning, there were five or six determined couples still hard at work, and the sounds of the country dance followed him and Elizabeth to their carriage.
Within moments, her head lolled on his shoulder, her pretty hair ornament preventing him from resting his cheek atop her head.
Had his wife not been the person of honour, Darcy would have left hours ago.
However feverish with hopes and fears, however restless and agitated he felt about what his relationship would be with Elizabeth, the ball was delightful because he saw how much his wife enjoyed herself.
When they arrived home at three o’clock, it was far too late for any discussion about life or love. Elizabeth was not used to these sorts of hours, and he was likewise exhausted and due to be on the road by ten. She had staggered up the stairs with her eyes half closed but with a smile on her lips.
When his valet woke him at nine, Darcy grudgingly readied for his trip to Derbyshire. He did not want to leave Elizabeth when he felt matters between them were on the verge of changing for the better. He did not expect her to get up before he left and had only the hope that she would write to him.
Darcy was in the library awaiting the carriage when he heard harried female voices through the hall from the lobby above.
“But am I too late?” Elizabeth cried.
He entered the hall and looked up to see his wife in a dressing gown talking to her maid. She then looked over the railing and saw him, and grinned, although she closed her gown tighter around her and smoothed down her hair.
“Mr Darcy, I feared you had left without saying goodbye.”
When the footmen at the bottom of the stairs noticed her state of undress, they disappeared into the woodwork and then her maid scurried away.
“I had told them to let you sleep as long as you could, and never mind me.” He gestured for her to come into the library and wait with him. She looked down at herself, likely debating the propriety of being downstairs in her own house while undressed, and came down.
She must have forgotten he had seen her with her hair down and in a dressing gown when they awaited Georgiana in Gretna Green.
He had been distracted that night by how pretty she looked, and angry at himself because he little wanted to be attracted at such a time.
Now, he wished he was at his leisure to admire her.
“I heard you order the carriage,” she said as he closed the door behind her. “I meant to get up and breakfast with you. It will be the last time, you know.”
“I am only gone for a fortnight,” he said, smiling.
“I regret you must leave town so soon,” she said in a rush.
Did she think he wanted to part from her? “I did not ask you to join me because I did not think you wanted to travel so soon after all of our racing across the country.”
“Oh, you made the right decision,” she said. “You are lucky I even agreed to take the carriage last night. I will walk everywhere until we go to Longbourn in December.”
She smoothed down her hair again and tugged on her cuffs. She was embarrassed at having leapt from bed to look for him, but he felt a deep satisfaction in knowing she would miss him.
“When I return, we can…we can talk,” he finished weakly. By “talk” he meant to tell her he had grown to love her and ask if she thought she might ever feel the same way about him. He had no time now for so important a conversation; the carriage would be here any moment.
She nodded, not understanding what he wished to talk of. “I ought to go up and dress. I just, I just wanted to be sure you knew that, well, that when I”—her voice dropped to a murmur—“kissed you yesterday, it was not because of the aigrette. It is beautiful, of course, and I am grateful, but…”
Elizabeth’s voice was breathless and her cheeks were pink.
The ember of hope that his wife might love him burnt a little brighter.
She had not kissed him out of gratitude.
It might have only been from attraction, but nothing in her manner spoke of a mere capitulation to a husband’s rights or of a resistance to loving him someday.
“I never gave you the ornament to create an obligation,” he said carefully, taking a step toward her, “and never thought your affection and respect could be bought so cheaply.”
“I will miss you,” she said, stepping closer.
“I will miss you too,” he breathed, closing the distance between them.
He wanted to kiss her, and he thought he saw in her eyes and manner that she wanted him to do it.
Darcy put his hands on her waist and leant in slowly to give her a kiss that would be easy for her to refuse if he had misunderstood.
Instead, she was the one who closed the space between them and tilted her head slightly before he touched his lips to hers.
He flattened a hand over her back to pull her closer.
Her lips felt even softer and warmer than they had been yesterday.
He pressed his lips against hers more firmly, with a little more urgency.
She gave a small sigh and kissed him back, her arms slipping around him as her lips explored his mouth.
Straining for more, he stroked his tongue between her lips, making her gasp.
This gentle touch became something more with stunning speed.
She melted against him with a moan, raising her hands to lock behind his neck.
He tugged her against him and deepened his kiss, sinking further into one another.
The warmth of her arms and the heat of her mouth drove him wild.
The kiss turned rough and demanding as she clung on to him as tightly as she could.
The most natural thing to do was to urge her backward toward the wall, pressing himself against her.
She gave a gasp of surprise when her back hit the wall, and he drew back, afraid that in a haze of lust and longing he had overstepped.
Her eyes were dark and wide, but Elizabeth pulled him back down to her lips, kissing him hard, her tongue eagerly back to tangling with his.
He braced his forearms on either side of her head, pinning her in place with his body.
She roamed her hands all over him as he kissed her.
Her fingernails scraped down against his waistcoat, making his shoulders roll back and his hips arch against her.
He brought a hand down to brush the back of his knuckles along the side of her breast. It sent a shudder through her and he cupped it in his palm, tracing over it with the pad of his thumb.
When he felt brave enough to knead her breast, a desperate moan escaped her.
He bent forward to kiss her neck, his teeth grazing along her skin as she dug her nails into his shoulders.
There was a knock on the door next to them, and Elizabeth started. Through the door, he heard one of the footmen say, “He said we should knock and then just enter.”
“Well, he is married now, in’t he? Doubt he would appreciate that when his lady is with him.” The knock was repeated. “Sir, the carriage is standing outside.”
Darcy stifled a groan and caught his breath, running a thumb over Elizabeth’s swollen lips. To his delight, she pressed a kiss to it, nearly sucking it into her mouth. It took him a little longer to find his voice before he could call out, “One moment.”
He stayed leaning against Elizabeth, still trapping her against the wall. The look in her eye told him to stay as much as did her grip on his shoulders. “I hate to leave now, but I will return in a fortnight.”
“Maybe ten days?” she asked, her fingertips raking through his hair.
He swallowed thickly. “Yes, ten days.”
“Perhaps a week?”
He exhaled a laugh. “Only if I fly through the night on the mail coach. But ten days, I can do.” She kissed him enthusiastically in reply, smiling sweetly when she was done. “Will you write to me?”
Elizabeth nodded. “You will be back next Tuesday, the eighth?”
“I promise.” Feeling emboldened by her eagerness, he cupped her chin and asked, “Will you kiss me that warmly when I return?”
She flushed, but there was no hesitancy in her voice when she said, “Gladly. I will even kiss you now if you have the time.”
He was not bold enough to say that he wanted to do more than kiss her once he came back, but he gave her a deep parting kiss.
He picked up his hat and gloves and calmed his mind and his body.
Ten days would feel like an eternity. He waited until it seemed like Elizabeth was composed before asking her with his eyes and a tilt of his head toward the door if she was ready.
When she nodded, he opened the door and went into the hall.
“Good bye, Mr Darcy,” his wife said, holding out her hand.
It was a ridiculous parting given what they had just done, and he saw the humour in her eyes. Still, he took her hand, bowed over it, then brought it to his lips. “Ten days, Mrs Darcy.”
She seemed short of breath but managed a smile, and Darcy knew she understood exactly what he meant.
Elizabeth was certain that of all horrid things, leave-taking was the worst. Darcy had left yesterday, and it was a sad change.
His company had given great spirit to the last two weeks, and the expectation of seeing Darcy every morning, the assurance of his attention, his conversation, his care, had brightened her days since they arrived in town.
It had been a very happy fortnight, and sinking from that enjoyment into the common course of days in London all alone made her feel forlorn.
And she wanted to kiss him again.