Chapter 15 #3
“—judge a book by its cover,” she finished for him.
He looked at her, eyes wide, a small smile on his lips.
Elizabeth swallowed and looked away. She had been awful to him for months, stupidly judging him and misjudging Wickham.
And now he’d met her mother who, like Wickham, disproved the maxim.
They both were as awful as they appeared.
“Actually,” she managed to stutter, “I think there are at least a few people who can be judged so easily.” She looked over to ensure he didn’t assume she meant him. “On the other hand,” she quickly added, “‘perhaps the time to make your mind up about people is…never.’”
“Are you quoting The Philadelphia Story, Miss Bennet?”
Elizabeth gazed at him, her eyes revealing her happy surprise at his knowing that line. “There was far more to C.K. Dexter Haven than Tracy Lord was willing to admit. Unsuspected depths and all that,” she added in a solemn voice.
“She broke one of his golf clubs!”
“He pushed her!” Elizabeth retorted. “Besides,” she said, her hand on her heart and her eyes bright and sparkling, “Cary Grant can do no wrong.”
Darcy grappled for a response. This. This is what I want. Her, teasing me. He’d yearned for it. Even if some of the teasing at Netherfield hadn’t been the flirting he’d mistaken it for, it had lightened him. Just thinking about it made him happy, as everything about her seemed to do.
He swallowed. His head was too full of thoughts he was too exhausted to know how to express.
He wasn’t sure any of this was really happening.
Not only had he run into Elizabeth in the middle of Central Park, they were joking about screwball comedies?
Darcy glanced over at her; she looked a bit discomfited by his silence.
“Well,” he began slowly, “neither of them aced charm school, did they? We all forget those little lessons about judging people. But children, like Jeremy back there, they know what’s important.”
“You’ll be a good father someday.” Her words came softly as if she hadn’t meant to voice them aloud.
Darcy’s eyes widened. He looked down at the ground and then off in the distance. “I hope so.” He cleared his throat then shrugged his shoulders self-consciously and apologized for his appearance.
“Um, you recall my cousin Annabella De Bourgh, the artist? Her newest installation opened last night. And closed a few hours later.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “What? Was it supposed to be a one-night, um, event?” she asked, her face turning a bright shade of red.
“No, the authorities took care of that.” He sighed. “Annabella is provocative, but she went a bit too far this time, skirting some obscure city laws, not to mention the bounds of common decency and propriety.”
Elizabeth gasped and stopped walking. Her expression implored him to reveal all. He came to stand beside her and spoke in a quiet voice.
“A creative use of leeches, I take it. I wasn’t there,” he quickly added.
“I’d just gotten off the Acela. I’d been in DC.
My aunt called in a panic from the police station.
After we had it all sussed out, tempers were high, so I couldn’t leave them alone together.
I spent the night on a sofa that must have been stuffed with horsehair and shipped here on the Mayflower. ” He grimaced and stretched his neck.
Elizabeth watched him stifle a yawn. “Always the helpful nephew,” she said softly. “Rich wasn’t around?”
Darcy shook his head.
“You’re a good man, Fitzwilliam Darcy. A very good man.” Elizabeth slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
He swallowed and looked down at their hands.
His eyes moved to hers, shining and full of emotion.
He was exhausted and grubby, standing in the sun with every flaw on full display, but she was smiling at him and gripping his hand.
What the hell did he have to lose now? Late last night, his aunt had told him she’d spoken with Elizabeth, curious whether she was worth what he had risked.
It was the soft, vulnerable expression on Elizabeth’s face when his name was mentioned that had convinced Aunt Catherine of her feelings.
It was the same expression he saw there now.
It gave him a thin, fragile hope, which he felt all the more keenly through his fatigue.
He was so tired. Tired of being cautious, tired of wondering, tired of being alone when he just wanted to be with her.
“I, um, thank you.” He looked at her intently. “Elizabeth, will you have lunch with me? I know it’s unbearably early, but I’m famished. My aunt stocks a less than appetizing array of breakfast foods.”
Elizabeth blinked.
“If I could change first…if you wouldn’t mind?” he asked carefully. “I’m just a few blocks away at Eighty-First.” He saw her hesitate and quickly mentioned that she could wait for him in his apartment or they could meet somewhere. Whatever was most comfortable for her.
“Of course, that would be great. I’d really like to talk to you.”
He stared at her, hoping she wanted the same conversation he did. Thoughts of seeing her, talking to her, possibly kissing her, had kept him preoccupied for weeks. The days since the party and his conversations with his aunt had only intensified his restless need for her.
“Fitzwilliam, I need to thank you.”
Her eyes were huge and green and fixed on him. He didn’t want her thanks. He wanted her. “Elizabeth…”
“No,” she said urgently, squeezing his hand. “I need to thank you. Your aunt told me what you did to help me. It was wonderful of you, and I am so grateful. But I’m not sure why you did so much and put so much at risk.”
He froze and looked at the ground. “I didn’t do anything to earn your thanks. Anything I did, I did because…because what I told you last spring hasn’t changed. My feelings for you haven’t faded.” His voice was rough with emotion as his gaze slowly settled on her. “They’ve only grown.”
Darcy watched as an unreadable wave of emotion crossed her face. Panicked, he began speaking rapidly. “But I understand if you don’t feel the same, and I won’t—”
“But I do.” Elizabeth put her hand on his cheek and smiled up at him. Her eyes misted. “You’re all I can think about.”
It took a moment for her words to fully sink in. “Me too,” he whispered. Her eyes drew him in, and he had no more thoughts, only feelings. “Elizabeth…”
Her fingers were in his hair and her lips were on his before he could say more. It took him a second to react, but he managed to put his hand on her waist and draw her closer.
When she finally pulled back and looked up at him, Elizabeth smiled softly and brushed a thumb across his cheekbone.
“Are you this bristly every weekend?” Darcy, still lost in the haze of her kiss, shook his head slowly and leaned toward her.
He kissed her gently—on her cheeks, on her nose, on her eyelids, on her lips—before simply enveloping her in his arms and whispering her name.
He wasn’t ready to let go of the moment; he needed to hold her.
If she noticed that he was trembling, she was too polite and too overwhelmed to mention it. She simply pulled him closer.
It took a rumble of thunder to draw them apart. Their eyes met, their shy smiles matched. “Lunch?” he mouthed. She nodded. Darcy clasped her hand and they began walking briskly to the park’s exit onto Seventy-Second. A few drops of rain chased them to a taxicab and they fell into the back seat.
He reached for her hand but instead felt her push something soft into his palm. “You said you were hungry? Soft pretzels are full of carbs and calories.” Her eyes sparkled with mirth. “You need to keep up your strength if you’re going to keep saving damsels in distress all over the city.”
For a few moments, Darcy didn’t react; he simply gazed at Elizabeth, sitting close beside him in the cab. He could still taste her kisses, still smell her hair. He just wanted to soak it all in.
She leaned over and lightly kissed him. “Fitzwilliam, don’t make me start quoting Mrs. Claus.”
“Sorry?”
“‘Eat, Poppa, eat!’ Remember in Rudolph, when Santa is skinny because he’s all depressed about the fog and snow?” Elizabeth looked at him curiously.
Darcy took a bite of the pretzel and shook his head. “I’ve never seen Rudolph.”
Elizabeth’s jaw dropped. “Oh, you poor thing. We have so much work to do.” Suddenly self-conscious, she blushed and turned to peer out the window.
Darcy reached out and captured her hand. He lifted it to his lips. His voice was hushed and a little shaky, but it was full of happy feeling. “There are quite a few things I need to work on, Elizabeth, but I’m an excellent student.”
She smiled gently at him, her eyes bright with affectionate amusement. Darcy raised his eyebrows and waited happily.
“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth sighed and leaned her head on his shoulder. “I believe we’ve aced charm school.”