Chapter Eight #2
She still had trouble believing that Charlotte had accepted him.
However, Elizabeth could not dwell upon it now, not with Mr. Darcy in the house and her own feelings for him undergoing such a sea-change.
The engagement was a done thing, and her friend was a practical woman.
Elizabeth had never known her to do anything without a reason.
She could only hope that Charlotte would not regret her decision.
Mr. Collins marrying outside of the Bennet family was in fact a relief to Elizabeth, but it was not something her mother was likely ever to forgive her for. Had Mr. Collins plotted his revenge purposefully he could not have landed upon anything better.
Mr. Bingley was upright again. He stood still for a moment before nodding. “I am well, Miss Bennet,” he told Jane, who released the breath she had been holding.
“I am so sorry for my cousin,” Jane said. “He is—”
“A guest in your home and not someone for whom you must offer pardon,” Mr. Bingley assured her. “We all have relatives for whom we blush.”
Well done, Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth was very pleased by the look in his eyes as he gazed at Jane, and she believed his message had been well received.
Jane turned to instruct the maid to bring tea to the drawing room.
She walked ahead of the small group to be sure the door was opened wide enough for Mr. Bingley's entrance, and then that the cushion for his back and the pillow set upon a stool for his leg were placed exactly where they offered the most comfort. Elizabeth, who had trailed them all, stopped in the doorway as Jane fussed about Mr. Bingley. She nearly cried at the gentleness in Mr. Bingley’s gaze as he watched her sister tend him.
They would be very happy together. And to think, his sisters did not wish him to marry Jane, the best woman in the world and one any man would be fortunate to have caring for him!
“They are well suited, I think,” Mr. Darcy said. She had not realised he was standing so near, and the deep tenor of his voice made her shiver a bit.
Why was that?
“Mr. Darcy!” Kitty cried from inside the room. “You and Lizzy are under the mistletoe again!”
“There is no escaping this time, Lizzy!” Lydia crowed.
“Escape? What do you mean by that?” Mr. Collins asked petulantly. He narrowed his deep-set eyes. “Has Cousin Elizabeth been impertinent to Mr. Darcy? Has he been attempting to escape her?”
Elizabeth’s face was aflame, but she did not attempt to step away. “If you do not wish to kiss me, Mr. Darcy, I would not blame you,” she murmured, “but this time, you must step away. Then we would be even.”
Mr. Darcy shared a look with Mr. Bingley.
It lasted long enough that she knew they were having a silent conversation, as she and Jane did sometimes.
Whatever they were saying to one another, Mr. Bingley smiled, and Mr. Darcy turned to her.
He lifted one long arm to pluck a berry without moving his gaze from her.
Elizabeth’s skin tingled, her heart beat a little faster.
Mr. Darcy handed her the berry, then bent down. Elizabeth offered him her cheek.
He paused, his lips lingering less than an inch from her skin. Her breaths came faster.
Suddenly, something rammed her from behind and she was tossed roughly forward, directly into Mr. Darcy’s arms.
“Miss Elizabeth!” he exclaimed.
“Cousin Elizabeth!” Mr. Collins cried at the same moment. “How could you?”
Elizabeth wished that Mr. Darcy did not have to release her, but he set her back on her feet and did just that. “I would not, Mr. Collins, had you not pushed me into his arms.”
“Are you attempting to matchmake, Mr. Collins?” Mr. Bingley inquired. “If so, I fear that is not the way to go about it.”
“No, I assure you,” Mr. Collins said, his lips twisted in an ugly grimace. “I only meant to prevent my cousin from importuning the gentleman.”
“By shoving her into my arms?” Mr. Darcy inquired. He did not sound upset.
“I did no such thing.” Mr. Collins huffed. “Not intentionally.”
“My aunt will be very displeased to hear that you have attempted to compromise me,” Mr. Darcy replied coolly.
Elizabeth could hear her sisters gasp as one.
“Compromise? Oh no, that will not do at all,” Mr. Collins muttered, “not at all. I must speak with her father.”
“Yes, Mr. Collins.” Elizabeth was irritated beyond belief, and merely wanted her cousin gone. “You should go warn my father at once.”
“You jest, but I shall do just that,” Mr. Collins declared as he brushed past her.
“In detail,” Elizabeth called after him. “He cannot fully understand unless you explain every particular.” She turned to see that everyone in the room staring at her and she lifted her hands out, palms up. “What?”
“You still owe me a kiss,” Mr. Darcy said, his voice for her ears only.
Elizabeth did not appreciate how smug he sounded. “Very well,” she said, and dutifully offered her cheek.
Mr. Darcy bent towards her. “Your father will not be pleased with the visitor you have sent him.”
“Alas, Papa will not suffer him for long.”
“How long?”
“If you wish for your kiss, you must . . .” Elizabeth turned her head to address Mr. Darcy properly just as he stepped forward to kiss her cheek.
His lips met hers, and the strength of the spark between them nearly lifted her to her toes. Mr. Darcy stepped back, appearing a little dazed.
There was a spluttered sound of outrage that could only mean one thing. Mr. Collins had returned.
“Cousin Elizabeth!” the man cried.
Elizabeth sighed. She was very tired of hearing her name spoken in such a way.
But Mr. Collins was not alone.
“Ah,” her father said dryly. “I see that the mistletoe is up.”