Chapter 73
Elizabeth’s heart pounded wildly in her chest as she raced through the grounds.
The stables seemed miles away. Every breath was cold and metallic, sucked into lungs that were too terrified to expand.
She ran, and the rain started to fall. Fat drops fell onto her exposed neck, startlingly cold against the warm summer day.
Soon there were puddles on the path and the stones were slick.
Elizabeth was too overwhelmed to feel chilled, but she distantly knew that her dress would be ruined. The expensive silk was already sticking to her skin. She could not think about that; all she cared about was catching up with Jane before the carriage left.
She rounded the corner to the stable yard and sobbed in relief. The carriage was still there - just. The servants had already closed the door and the driver was bringing the horses around to face the exit.
“What… what!” Elizabeth tried to shout. It emerged as a tiny gasp, lost on the mounting wind. Staggering closer on legs that felt like rubber, she tried again.
Nobody heard her. The driver gathered the reigns to urge the horses forwards. For a split second, Elizabeth could see her sister’s nervous face looking out of the window.
“Stop…!” Elizabeth choked, lurching forwards.
The carriage rattled towards her, already moving quickly, blind to the woman in its path. Lizzie raised her arms in a desperate bid to be seen. Her skirt, drenched from the rain, tangled around her legs and sent her sprawling wildly forwards with a scream.
It was that which finally caught the driver’s attention.
With an oath, he hauled on the reigns. The horses shrieked and reared, unnerved by the sudden wrench at their bits and the chaos before them.
Elizabeth curled up, petrified, as the world became a storm of crashing hooves and awful, snorting rage.
“Elizabeth!”
She heard the cry shattering her frozen shell. Her body refused to obey her, petrified between furious horses and ice-cold stones. Lizzie sobbed and scrambled, trying to free herself from her clinging skirt and the awful, paralysing fear.
“Elizabeth!” strong hands seized her and dragged her backwards. She clung to Darcy’s sleeves as he bellowed at the driver, “Get back, damn you - back!”
The driver shouted something which was lost on the wind. Agonisingly slowly, the horses balking, the carriage inched away.
Darcy rocked Elizabeth in his arms, his heart thudding, kissing and shaking her by turns. “What were you thinking?”
Her eyes had been squeezed shut in fear, but they flew open at that question.
“Oh! Jane! I must see Jane! I…”
“I am here, dearest.” Jane’s hand clutched her wrist. Elizabeth blearily realised that her sister was kneeling in the mud beside them. Bingley was at her side, his face stricken.
“Elizabeth, you could have been killed!”
“I have to warn you…!” Lizzie croaked, “He knows, Jane! Somehow, he knows! He is on his way here as we speak.”
Jane’s eyebrows flew up in horror. “If he stops us… if he speaks to papa before we do…”
“He won’t.” Darcy stood, pulling Lizzie up with him. “Say your goodbyes quickly and go. Drive through the night. We shall delay him here.”
“How?” Elizabeth asked breathlessly. Darcy made an impatient gesture, and she threw her arms around Jane. Their embrace was decidedly soggy, but tearfully heartfelt. Jane kissed her on the cheek and then dragged herself away.
The driver had the carriage moving even before the door was fully closed. Darcy waited for it to clear the courtyard and then bellowed to the other hostlers:
“Release the horses!”
There was a stunned silence. The servants glanced nervously at each other. Darcy scowled, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted even louder, “Release the horses! Open all the doors and set them loose. I do not want there to be a single beast in my sight in the next two minutes!”
The servants sprang into action. In moments the yard was pure chaos.
Every stable was opened, every horse and pony urged outside.
Even the stable cats joined the fray, streaming out of their haunts to join the gathering herd.
After a polite hesitation from the best-trained horses, the throng cantered into the night.
“Come on.” Darcy grasped Elizabeth’s hand and pulled her towards the gardens. “We cannot be here when he arrives. Quickly!”
Still battling with her skirts, half blinded by the pouring rain, Elizabeth let out a wild laugh and ran.
She could hear cries in all directions - the horses behind them, the stable hands pretending to chase them, and in all directions shrieking guests running back to the house to get out of the rain.
It was a genuine summer cloudburst, dumping gallons of water as quickly as it could onto the parched summer soil.
Elizabeth could not see more than a few feet in front of her, so watched Darcy instead.
He was drenched, his shirt sticking to his wrists and collar, and breathing heavily as he urged them on.
They happened across an ornate folly before getting completely lost in the rain and dived into the shelter.
Laughing and clutching at each other, they stood under the marble pillars and waited for the rain to ease.
It was biblical, pouring down from the roof in a thunderous roar and making the statues drip.
Elizabeth shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. Her dress was completely plastered to her skin, and the rain had brought an unwelcome chill breeze in its wake. Darcy’s arms tightened around her, and he pulled her close to his warm chest.
“You followed me.” she murmured.
“You frightened me.” he replied and then raised her face to look into her eyes. “Elizabeth, you must never do that again. If you had been hurt…”
“I am not hurt.” she promised, shivering again, “I am only cold.”
He took off his coat with the thought of offering it to her - a flawed gesture, as it was as soaked as she was.
Elizabeth laughed, thanked him anyway, and then pressed herself against his chest. He was dry there, at least, and warm.
She thought he would complain about being chilled by her soggy embrace, but when she glanced up, he was smiling.
She caught her breath and caressed his cheek, giggling a little at the tiny droplets that were dripping from his hair. “You look like you’ve been swimming. Perhaps this would be a good time for you to give me my lesson.”
“Do you want a lesson, angel?” he breathed, his arms tightening around her. Lizzie’s breath caught nervously; she nodded, and he kissed her.
It was not a sweet kiss. She had truly frightened him; Elizabeth felt that clearly when his hands trembled on her skin.
He drew her closer than he ever had before, crushing her chest into his so that their hearts pounded together.
She gasped and sank her hands into his back, where the thin fabric clung to his skin so closely that he might as well have been naked.
That was how she was, Elizabeth realised. Every inch of her body was exposed by the sodden silk she wore. Darcy would be able to see every curve and crease. When he ran his hands hungrily over her breasts, she felt herself respond, and knew that he would be able to feel that, too.
“Darcy,” she moaned, her head falling back without conscious thought, “We should go…”
“Hush.” he murmured, nipping at her neck. “We’re not going anywhere.”
She shivered, unable to form another word. Thought left her entirely. There was only feeling.
The feeling of his hands on her body, slipping on her wet skin with frantic possession, checking her body for injuries and memorising every inch. The feeling of hot breath on her skin as he kissed her, and the warmth that filled her from the inside out.
The wet softness of his hair under her cheek when he lifted her up, and the strength of his shoulders when she wrapped her arms around them and sank her nails into his back. The rumble of his chest when he groaned, and the press of her breasts against his hands as she gasped for air.
The feeling of fingers and lips, of teeth and muscles and iron-strong arms, until there was nothing left but want.
Elizabeth whimpered and drew his head up, crushing her lips to his and pulling senselessly at his clothes.
“Wait - stop. Not like this.” Darcy shook his head, unable to relinquish his hold but wrenching himself away with an effort, “I can’t… angel, I fear I am too… I must be gentle, not…”
“No.” Elizabeth breathed intoxicatingly in his ear, “Be gentle tonight, or tomorrow, or a hundred times later but please, dear God, take me now.”
Darcy did not need further persuasion. His blood roared in his ears, and all he knew was blinding desire.
He lifted Elizabeth in his arms and pressed her firmly against the cold marble pillar.
Without hesitation, he freed himself and entered her willing body in one possessive surge.
She gasped, wrapping her legs instinctively around his hips and crying out his name in a low, shuddering plea.
With a growl of long-thwarted release, Darcy started to thrust into her with wild fervour.
It didn’t hurt. Elizabeth expected it to hurt.
The icy stone stung her spine as she was thudded helplessly against it.
Her neck throbbed from Darcy’s fierce, hard kisses.
All that, yet this was the furthest thing from pain.
It was heat and gasping fire, breathless hunger and throbbing need which grew stronger with every rhythmic surge.
Lizzie moaned in pleasure, tangling her hands thoughtlessly in the hands of the statues on the pillar as if they were the only things keeping her from drowning.
Darcy’s hold on her tightened and his movements changed.
His thrusts became harder, deeper, demanding pleasure while his hungry black eyes locked on hers.
Lizzie felt wave after rolling wave of heat throb through her whole body, making her sob out his name.
He swallowed the sound at once, capturing her lips and her rapid breaths, pushing his tongue into her mouth as ruthlessly as his member plundered her pleading body.
It was too much to bear. With a broken wail she climaxed around him. Darcy followed with a deep growl of satisfaction, slamming his hips against hers until, with an undisguised roar of release, he buried himself deep within her trembling body.
They could not stop moving at first. Their bodies rocked together, sated but ravenous, drawing from each other’s pleasure and unwilling to part.
“My God, Elizabeth.” Darcy groaned into her hair, “My God.”
She could not answer. She could only cling to him in clamorous exhaustion. Darcy drew back far enough to study her face, which was flushed and utterly beautiful. Smiling at the sight, he kissed her one final time.
Elizabeth whimpered against his mouth, tasting her husband like liquor. Her lips felt bruised; her body was aflame.
Darcy laughed, breaking the spell at last. “Let go of your friends, angel. I shall not drop you.”
Lizzie followed his eyes upwards. Against all sense, her hands were still firmly gripping the statues above them. Now that her eyes could focus on anything other than her husband, she saw that they were cherubs.
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” she muttered, both embarrassed and amused. She lowered her arms around Darcy’s shoulders, “I am not an angel!”
“You are a goddess.” he kissed her lightly on the nose and then added quietly: “Did I hurt you, Elizabeth? I did not intend to be so…”
“Last time you apologised for this we did not speak for weeks.” Lizzie reminded him in a low voice, “Do you want to take that risk again, sir?”
“Decidedly not.”
“Then let me put your mind at ease. I am far from hurt, and must take all of the blame for our… haste. You tried to behave as a perfect gentleman, sir. It appears that the illustrious Mrs. Darcy’s restraint is more lacking than we believed.”
Darcy laughed, “I am glad to hear that the illustrious Mrs. Darcy and I are of a mind… on this matter, at least.”
Elizabeth grinned and kissed his cheek. “Will you put me down, sir? My legs have stopped trembling.”
“What a shame.” he murmured, making a mischievous effort to change that. Elizabeth whimpered, her hips surging instinctively against him. She fought to find her voice.
“The… guests will wonder where we… ah! Are! They will send someone to look for us. Oh, Darcy, please stop! What if they send Mrs. Reynolds?”
Darcy stopped at once with a chuckle, setting her carefully down on the slippery stone tiles. “You certainly know how to dampen a man’s ardour. I confess that I have no wish to rejoin our guests, Elizabeth.”
“Even with a dampened ardour?”
“It will recover. It has been waiting too long for you, Mrs. Darcy.”
Elizabeth smiled and took his hand, “Then by all means, sir, let us make tonight worth the wait.”