Part Four
CAUSE TO REPINE
Darcy strode to the door and turned the key. Turning and facing Elizabeth, he pressed his shoulders up against the door. At last, there will be no more interruptions.
“Whatever are you doing, Mr. Darcy?” Standing, she placed her hands about her hips. “Do you not suppose that the prospect of finding the two of us locked behind closed doors will meet with a stern measure of disapproval from my papa?”
He swept his eyes over Elizabeth’s body. “I much prefer he finds us locked behind closed doors than find us locked in the position I have in mind.”
“Oh, and pray, what position do you have in mind?”
With long strides, he returned to her side, dropped down on the sofa, and pulled her into his arms. “I would rather show you.” After persuading her to sit astride his lap, he grasped both her hands and gently kissed the inside of her wrists.
“There are consequences for your behaviour in the dining parlour.”
She placed her hands on his shoulders. Her heart palpitated as she grazed her fingers along the strong column of his neck. “Am I to be punished for doing whatever I must to ensure my future husband is well nourished?”
“On the contrary, I mean to reward you properly for your care and attention to my appetite. However, in sating one hunger, your considerations have given wake to another.”
Elizabeth’s lips parted slightly.
Darcy said, “Indeed, have I not confessed to being a selfish man all my life? There are certain vices I simply refuse to surrender.” No longer concerned with untimely interruptions, he removed the pins from her hair and proceeded to admire the way it cascaded over her shoulders and down her back.
The sparkling fire bathing the room with its radiance only heightened the sensual intrigue. Nothing could take away from this moment—not even Mary’s laboured practising once again flooding Longbourn’s corridors.
Elizabeth peered into his eyes—dark and alluring, rendering him even more attractive than she would have allowed just a few months ago.
She reached up and traced the pattern of his chiselled jaw.
She kissed his cheek as he bent towards her.
Her breathing unsteady, her heartbeat pounding so loudly that surely he heard it too, she lowered her hand and brushed his chest with her fingers.
She then rested her head in the curve of his neck.
Being with him like this, touching him like this, and being touched by him like this, all while comforted by the sense of security a locked door afforded, emboldened her.
Not truly knowing what she was about, the feelings he incited in her were sufficient that she was content to throw caution to the wind and follow his lead—wherever it took them.
He pulled her face towards his and grazed his lips along her mouth before granting a deep penetrating kiss.
While giving his fingers leave to pursue the path he had longed to embark upon while they were in the dining parlour, Darcy recalled the first time he leaned towards Elizabeth and pressed his lips against hers: slow, tender, and ever so brief—the first kiss of many to follow.
However, this kiss was certainly different.
She was used to his kisses by now, and she met them with a sense of wanting, longing for more. He could not wait to make her his wife.
Their bodies melded instinctively. Her softness against his hardness, her pleasing gyrations, and her soft gasps gratified him immensely.
Darcy relished the exquisiteness of her soft lips, her tongue, and the sweet taste of strawberries.
Their season of courtship had afforded many notable pleasures, but none so intoxicating as this.
We have but two nights more before the wedding—two nights.
If I could conclude each of them in such a manner as this, I would have no cause whatsoever for discontent.
The effect she had on Darcy did not escape Elizabeth.
Indeed, it fascinated her. Her youngest sister’s way of finding a husband had nearly ruined her family and, therefore, was not something that Elizabeth liked to dwell upon.
Nevertheless, she now understood how a young girl who fancied herself in love might yield to the temptations afforded in the arms of a proficient lover.
It is not that I mean to suppose for one instant that George Wickham is proficient.
Egad! Why am I even thinking of George Wickham at such a moment as this?
Oh yes, it is because my youngest sister has experienced that which I have been given only to wonder about in the privacy of my bedroom on more than one occasion since my engagement to Fitzwilliam.
Too many evenings had ended with her heart in knots over the prospect of being separated from him for an entire night; thus, the reason for her eagerness to set off early in the mornings to meet him on one of their favourite secluded paths.
They would hold hands and stroll along, sometimes in quiet companionship, sometimes in heated debate, and always in view of the rising sun.
She simply wanted to be with him. Be it fascination or be it infatuation, be it love or be it lust, or better yet, be it the best combination of all those things, she was certain she never wished to be parted from him.
How thankful she was that he had arranged his business affairs so he could spend the majority of his time in Hertfordshire, and that those instances that found him in town often found her in town as well, visiting the Gardiners in Cheapside. None of our time together has been as pleasant as this.
Swifter than she might have supposed, he shifted their positions and covered her body with his.
He reclaimed her lips. Elizabeth’s heart pounded against her chest. He must feel it too.
She gave some thought to protesting—to exercising a measure of restraint in keeping with her maidenly sensibilities—but her body’s aching thirst for something yet unexperienced screamed louder.
How she relished the intoxicating touch of his lips upon her neckline, her face, her lips.
Longing for him to possess every fibre of her being, Elizabeth reminded herself to breathe.
If I can have but one wish, I wish this night never ends.
Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, as well as Mary and Kitty, had long since retired for the evening, as had been their wont, thus affording the engaged couples a measure of privacy before their gentlemen callers were fully expected to take their leave.
Concerned that he had not seen Darcy since his friend muttered some excuse before quitting the room hours earlier, Bingley ran his fingers through his hair. “Perhaps I should gather Darcy so we might return to Netherfield together. Despite the short distance, I am always glad for his company.”
“It has been some time since we last saw Lizzy or Mr. Darcy, and the hour is late. Perhaps he has taken his leave already.”
Bingley shook his head. “Given the direction of your aunt’s discourse this evening, I am not surprised that Darcy sought a means of escaping her company, but it is not like him to depart without informing me.”
Reaching out her hand to touch his, Jane said, “Again, you must allow me to apologise for my aunt’s behaviour.”
He placed his free hand over her hand resting lovingly on his other and smiled. “My dearest Jane, you have no reason to apologise to me. I hold you no more accountable for your family’s behaviour than you hold me liable for mine. Soon enough, we shall all be one happy family.”
Jane’s face lit up. “Indeed—as I am already the happiest woman in all of England, there can be little doubt of your assertions.”
How her sweet angelic smile warmed his heart. He squeezed her hand. “What say you we have a look around for Darcy and Miss Elizabeth?”
They set off in search of the couple, first checking the dining parlour where Kitty’s intelligence had last placed them, and then the east parlour as well as a few adjacent rooms. All their efforts proved futile.
Indeed, no one wandered throughout the halls.
Given the hour, Jane was not surprised to see none of the servants stirring.
Before allowing that Mr. Darcy had indeed returned to Netherfield, Jane had an idea where her sister and future brother might be. Although merely speculation, she recalled her sister had sought the solace of that particular room a time or two of late.
She turned to Mr. Bingley. “Pray, follow me.” Arriving at her destination, Jane placed her hand on the doorknob and gave it a twist. Supposing that it was jammed, she applied a bit more pressure. “This is strange.”
“What is the matter?”
“The door … it appears to be stuck.”
“Allow me.”
Jane moved aside, and Bingley placed his hand on the doorknob, taking care to provide just the right amount of finesse to assure his betrothed that he was more than capable of handling such matters. “The door is not stuck! It’s—” He scratched his head. “It’s locked.”
“How can that be?” Jane threw her hand over her mouth. “You do not suppose—”
Bingley pressed his ear against the door.
Her voiced now an excited whisper, Jane said, “What on earth are you doing?”
He placed his finger to his lips. Speaking softly, he said, “I’m trying to listen to anything I might overhear.”
“Sir, pray come away from the door.”
Bingley shook his head and beckoned Jane to his side. “Come. Listen.”
She crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “I will do no such thing.”
With both hands now pressed against the door, cupping his ear, Bingley persisted. “I think I hear something.”
Jane then assumed the same attitude as her betrothed. “I do not hear anything.”
Bingley hushed her. “Listen closely.” A barely perceptible sound escaped the locked room. “Did you hear that?”
Jane eased away. “Whatever shall we do? Surely my sister and Mr. Darcy have lost track of the hour. Shall we knock on the door and garner their attention?”