Part Two
THE KEY TO HIS HEART
Elizabeth stood behind the partially opened door, which afforded her just enough seclusion to espy her betrothed without drawing everyone’s attention.
Will my heart always sing this same sweet serenade each and every time I behold his striking person?
He had that certain air about him that distinguished him from every other person in the room.
Everything about this man excited her: the soul-piercing look in his eyes, the velvety rich baritone of his voice, the way he moved across the floor.
Elizabeth’s mind wandered to the time she first saw him at the Meryton assembly and that intense moment when their eyes met from across the crowded room.
What intrigue had surrounded his entrance: Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the young master of Pemberley in Derbyshire—tall, handsome, and most importantly, he was a single man with more than ten thousand pounds a year.
Then, everyone soon discovered him to be proud and above his company.
Elizabeth had been on the receiving end of the sternest of his disapprobation when she overheard him tell his friend Charles Bingley that she was fairly tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.
Oh, what a mistake that had turned out to be, subjecting them to conflict and drama as Elizabeth swore she would hate him for all eternity.
How she had despised him for his arrogance and what she had once believed as his indifference towards the feelings of others.
What a thin line it is between love and hate indeed, for his having since proved himself to be the best man she knew, she was certain that her love for him would last for all eternity.
Elizabeth, now fully aware that this man who might have any woman he desired did not look at her to find fault but out of love and affection, could say with certainty that he was decent and kind.
His selfless generosity on my sister’s behalf is a testament to his goodness.
Falling in love with Mr. Darcy became so easy once she had made a start.
She would not venture to say he was without fault.
However, her aunt Gardiner had it right upon first making his acquaintance at Pemberley when she said he had not an ill-natured look.
She went on to say there was something pleasing about his mouth when he spoke.
And there was something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart.
A wave of heat spread over her body when, after a moment, her eyes met his.
Mischief graced her countenance as Elizabeth, with a slight shift of her head, silently beckoned he join her.
Darcy uttered a few imperceptible words to Bingley, who sat next to him, and then stood and walked to her.
Undetected by the room’s other occupants, Elizabeth captured his hand and started leading him down the hall.
“What are you about?”
“You looked as though you needed rescuing. Pray follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“For once, I find my aunt and my mama gave voice to reason. You, sir, appear in great need of sustenance. I have been busy taking measures to redress their complaints.”
“I wondered what I had done to cause you to abandon me earlier.”
“Apparently, you did not hear my mama decrying your emaciated state.”
“I dare say one would have had to be deaf not to have heard her.”
“Mr. Darcy, your abundant power of ignoring the ridiculous amazes me.”
“Actually, my mind was more agreeably engaged, contemplating the number of days until I am allowed to sate my desire for sustenance of a different kind.”
Elizabeth bit her lowered lip to mask her astonishment. “Well, sir, I do hope you will enjoy what I am offering instead.”
Darcy’s expression upon entering the room and espying the arrangements Elizabeth had made was just what she had hoped it would be: wide-eyed with a stunning smile that unvaryingly unleashed waves of joy in her heart.
In the short time she was away, Elizabeth had exercised extraordinary measures overseeing the preparation of a small feast of seasonal fruits, assorted breads, cheeses, and wine for Darcy’s pleasure.
“What is this?”
“We cannot have the master of Pemberley return to his estate so thin and frail that he risks being unrecognisable.”
“Heaven forbid!”
Elizabeth led Darcy to the table. “I invite you to have a seat.”
“After you, my love,” said he.
“Actually, I mean to serve you.”
“If that is the case, then—” Darcy looked at the young woman stationed by the side table. “It appears your services are no longer required.”
The poor girl’s lower lip quivered. Elizabeth hurried to the servant’s side and placed her hand upon her shoulder. “Fear not, Sarah. I am certain what Mr. Darcy meant to say is you may be excused.”
Relief poured over her face as Sarah dropped a grateful curtsy. “Oh, thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” The girl wasted no time quitting the room.
Darcy was still standing when Elizabeth returned to his side. “Again, I invite you to have a seat,” she said in an impertinent, albeit teasing, manner.
Darcy rested his hands on the back of the chair next to his own, his stance equally as resolute.
Elizabeth arched her brow. “How shall I serve you properly if I am seated beside you?”
Darcy lifted his brow in turn. “Once you make a start, I am rather certain you will do the job nicely.”
I sense a challenge buried in his tone. Whereas Elizabeth’s courage always rose with any attempt to intimidate her, she meant to have fun this evening. Thus, she sat in the chair in response to his determined attitude in order that they might get on with her scheme.
Upon sitting, Darcy said, “This is quite a feast you have spread before me. Surely I am not expected to partake of all this alone.”
“I suppose I might have a small bite or two, but not before I have made sure you are fully satiated, sir.”
Darcy picked up the glass and took a sip of wine all the while regarding Elizabeth with a piercing stare.
Elizabeth swallowed in an effort to settle the volcanic flutters erupting inside her.
Wanting, nay needing, to do something that might calm her, she reached for a plate and began filling it with food.
When she picked up a slice of apple, he reached for her hand and guided it to his mouth. “You did say you would serve me, did you not?”
Again, she swallowed. “Indeed.” Elizabeth held the apple slice just so, and Darcy took his first bite and then another until it was all gone. Her fingers now upon his wonderfully soft lips sent her pulse racing. Flushed, she lowered her hand.
Pleased by the steady rise and fall of her chest, he imagined his fingers trailing along the edge of her décolletage …
followed by his lips. Darcy picked up a slice of fruit and raised it to Elizabeth’s lips.
She opened her mouth and accepted his offering.
He traced his now empty fingers across her lips.
Their gazes met. Elizabeth saw a bit of teasing in his eyes that eased a bit of the unrest coursing deep inside her body.
Darcy reached over, picked up his wineglass, and brought it to Elizabeth’s lips.
She took a sip and then another, enjoying the sensations of wine washing down her throat, easing her reservations, and ushering in a bout of playfulness. “It is I who should be serving you, sir.”
“I much rather we take turns nourishing each other.”
“Then, it is my turn.” She picked up a piece of bread and smothered it with sweet and succulent preserves.
She raised it to his lips. Again, Darcy opened his willing mouth and encouraged her to feed him.
A tiny drop of spread lingered on her finger.
Darcy took her hand and commenced bestowing a fair amount of attention upon each trembling digit, including those that showed no evidence of needing such ardent consideration.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you were indeed in need of sustenance.”
“I am famished, and in a manner that I am likely to remain at least until—”
“Until—”
With utmost affection, Darcy kissed the base of Elizabeth’s hand.
Her skin was soft and warm, with the sweet lingering scent of rosewater.
Unable to stop himself, he kissed her palm tenderly.
She gasped. Her hand trembled. For so long, he had found himself wishing for such a moment alone with Elizabeth; although, sitting at the table in the dining parlour of a household as lively as Longbourn was hardly conducive to his purposes.
His mind drifted. In mere days, he would bring his bride to Pemberley where he would be at liberty to enjoy such pleasures as those dancing through his imagination in any number of Pemberley’s rooms at any time he would like.
An opening door and swooshing fabrics ripped Darcy from his dreams of making love to his bride. Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. Hoping his face did not betray his frustration, he stood.
“Oh, here you are, Lizzy. I wondered where you had run off. I see you followed my advice and had Cook prepare a light repast for Mr. Darcy. Oh, sir, I do hope you find it to your liking.” Without awaiting his response, Mrs. Bennet spun round on her heels.
“Where in heavens is Sarah? She should be here. I shall speak to Hill at once.”
Elizabeth said, “No, Mama! You need not bother. I told Sarah that her services were not needed.”
“Not needed? It is her job to be here to attend our honoured guest. Oh, pray you will forgive this lapse, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy cleared his throat. “I am not offended, madam. Please do not trouble yourself on my behalf. In fact, I shall deem it a great service if you would give this matter no further consideration.”
Ever desiring to garner his approbation, Mrs. Bennet studied the table. “Mr. Darcy needs a more substantial meal, Lizzy. I shall speak with Cook myself.”
“No—Mama, this is quite sufficient.”