Chapter 17 #2
“No, you’re not. Please, just lie down for a bit. I’ll head home and see you later tonight.”
“I won’t sleep. Please, I’d rather drive you, or—”
“No,” she said firmly. “I have things to do, Saturday errands to run. You see, I have this big date tonight with a special guy.” Elizabeth beamed at him.
He swallowed. Then he blinked. “Let me call you a car?”
There was no point in arguing. She relented.
“Elizabeth Bennet, what are you doing?” Jane’s voice barked through the phone. Elizabeth, wearing a robe and perched on the bathroom sink, glanced at her sister’s face on the phone screen and began screwing the cap back on the eyeliner.
Crud. I hate FaceTime. Sylvia’s rubbing off on her. Elizabeth tilted the phone away from her face. “Jane, I thought you were going to Netherfield.”
“No…Charles had a meeting this morning, so I did some wedding errands. My room is jammed with stuff we need to go through.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“We need to make some final decisions on the dresses. I think the three-quarter sleeves are best. Mary has that new tattoo, and it’s probably going to be chilly anyway…” Jane laughed nervously. “Do you think Mom is going to dress appropriately?”
Elizabeth started putting on mascara. The last thing on earth she wanted to talk about was The Wedding of the Year.
Not now, not today. Fitzwilliam Darcy—Will—would be here soon.
She’d spent a good chunk of the ride home thinking about his name, saying it aloud, and remembering his expression when she called him “Will” for the first time.
His eyes were so soft, his expression so open, she just wanted to sink into him.
She had so many questions, so much she didn’t know about him, and so much she wanted to know.
Just holding him had been amazing. God, the man could kiss.
She’d known that for a long time and forgotten it for nearly as long. Silly girl. Lucky, silly girl.
“Jane, can we talk about it later? I’m in a hurry.”
“Why? What are you doing? Move the phone back. I’m staring at the towel rack, and I can’t see you.”
“Sorry! I’ve got another call.” She tapped the end screen. A little white lie saved many a life and reputation.
Suddenly her phone buzzed with a text from Charlotte: “Sorry I missed the exhibit. See anything good?”
Elizabeth laughed to herself. Nothing I’ll tell you.
As she checked her makeup in the mirror, she noticed the silly grin on her face.
She erased it, took a deep breath, and slipped down from the sink.
She took off her robe and hung it on the door before glancing up at the bathroom clock.
Grabbing the phone, she tapped out a quick reply: “Yup. Fill u in later. Feel better.”
Elizabeth walked into her room. He said he wanted to take her to dinner.
He told her over and over that she was beautiful.
He was worth every effort she could make to actually look beautiful tonight.
He was worth all the cleaning she’d done and the dirty dishes she’d washed to make her apartment look presentable.
He was worth more than she’d ever imagined.
She slipped on a short, pink dress and brushed out her hair. The earrings looked good. The necklace hung just right. She looked…nice. Elizabeth took a breath and slid on her sandals.
Fitzwilliam Darcy was prompt, but Elizabeth knew he’d never be fashionably late.
He rang her doorbell at precisely seven o’clock, and she buzzed him up.
When she’d last seen him a few hours earlier, he was leaning into the car to kiss her goodbye.
She’d caught herself staring down his shirt at his chest, and mortified, she’d had to shake her head a little bit.
She did the same thing now, shaking her head when he walked through her front door, a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand, wearing gray slacks and a black jacket, a dove-gray shirt, and a black tie.
Man in black, she thought. My man in black. She felt her eyes sting.
He tilted his head and looked at her with a concerned expression on his face. “What is it?” He glanced down and gestured at his clothes.
She quickly smiled and walked toward him.
“For me?” She fingered the bouquet of lavender, poppies, snapdragons, and daisies in his hand.
He nodded, and she took the flowers and held them to her nose.
“Thank you.” She laid them on the table before lifting her hands to his newly shaven cheeks.
They were soft, and she could smell the soap even under the aftershave.
“Yummy,” she whispered.
Before he could respond, she drew him down and pressed her lips to his. She tasted him slowly and thoroughly, pulling on his lower lip, before drawing back and smiling at him dreamily.
“What was that?” he rasped.
“It occurred to me that I’d never kissed a whisker-free Fitzwilliam Darcy. I believe I’ll need to do a lot more investigating to figure out which version I like best.”
He pulled her into his arms and stood there, holding her close. “You look amazing,” he whispered in her ear. “That dress is just perfect on you.”
“Lizzy?”
Jane was standing in the doorway, her arms filled with shopping bags from bridal stores and a stunned look on her face.
“Fitzwilliam?”
Darcy stepped away from Elizabeth and nodded. “Hello, Jane. How are you?”
Elizabeth saw he was blushing and wondered whether she looked worse.
“I’m great, Fitzwilliam,” Jane finally replied, looking back and forth between the two of them.
“I didn’t realize that you two were, um, spending time together.
Lizzy hadn’t said anything.” She looked confused—pleased but confused.
Elizabeth thought she detected a bit of annoyance, too, that she’d been left out of the Big Secret Romance going on right under her nose.
“I’ll be right back. I just need to grab a sweater.” Elizabeth squeezed Darcy’s hand and hurried to her bedroom with Jane quick on her heels.
“Oh, Lizzy.” She closed the door, grabbed Elizabeth, and hugged her. “Oh, Lizzy. Finally. I knew it. I knew it!”
“Slow down, Jane. It’s a date. A first date.” It was so much more than that, and she could barely breathe, and she desperately didn’t want to talk about it—about him. “What are you doing here anyway?”
Jane pulled back and raised her eyebrows. “I would’ve told you I was stopping by to drop off the bags, but you hung up on me!” She let go of Elizabeth and flopped on the bed. “Now tell me what’s going on. When did you see Fitzwilliam? Did he just call you? What happened?”
“Jane, I like him. He likes me. That’s all for now.”
“I think he more than likes you. Charles was sure he liked you. He’s hoped for such a long time that Fitzwilliam would do something to show you how he felt. Feels.” She smiled her approval at her sister’s appearance. “You look great, Lizzy.”
Elizabeth took a last look in the mirror and picked up her sweater and bag.
“You guys were cute together at Pemberley. But I wish you’d told me. I wouldn’t have barged in if I knew.”
Elizabeth flushed. “Please don’t, okay? It’s all new and delicate, and I don’t know exactly what I feel, let alone what he feels.”
Jane nodded. “Fine. You have fun. But you owe me details later.” She waggled her eyebrows. “I’ll be home Monday.”
He barely had the chance to see her apartment. It was small but full of light, plants, and books. After putting her flowers in a cobalt-blue vase, Elizabeth seemed keen to rush him out, especially after Jane’s unexpected arrival and their shared embarrassment.
“Jane didn’t know that we…that I was coming?”
Elizabeth blushed. “Jane isn’t home much, and I hadn’t told her about you—about any of it—until a few days before the engagement party.” Was that only a week ago?
Darcy rubbed his chin as he considered that.
He was still reeling from the events of the past eight hours or so since bumping into the woman he’d thought he’d lost forever.
After an afternoon in her arms, they were now walking hand in hand to his car.
Last night, he’d been on the train, listening to his furious, panicked aunt demanding his immediate presence at a police precinct in Brooklyn.
And now, this amazing thing. What a difference a day makes.
He laughed quietly. Great, I’m thinking in clichés.
Elizabeth squeezed his hand. “What is it? Why are you laughing?”
They arrived at his car. He waved off the driver and opened the door himself. “Because I’m so very, very happy right now,” he whispered in her ear. “Thank you.” Then he kissed her tenderly and helped her into the car.
He took her to the West Village to a quirky and romantic carriage house where they sat at a corner table in utter privacy, enjoying a view of the restaurant’s lush gardens.
He’d spent the afternoon figuring it out.
Nothing too fancy, someplace with wonderful food, someplace discreet, someplace that might surprise her.
He obeyed her orders and lay down for a short nap.
It helped clear his head, even if all his thoughts were filled with her, and he woke up pleased that he’d be in her good graces for the simple act of sleeping.
He marveled, as he had for those two days at Pemberley, that he could feel palpably nervous while being so happy. It was weird.