Chapter 16 #3
So instead of untangling my inner turmoil, I reached out to him.
His brow scrunched beneath my fingers as I swept them across it, but then relaxed.
Apparently any confusion he felt at the gesture resolved itself and he was determined to accept my attentions in whatever form they came, even if it meant having his brow caressed as if he were an overwrought child or possibly a good dog.
I hardly knew what I was about or why I should feel the irresistible impulse to touch him, but I had so I did and here we are.
I searched for something to say because one cannot just sit in silence petting someone's forehead, it just isn't done.
"You have the most expressive brow, did you know? You could not lie to anyone. I thought your face so inscrutable at first, but now. . . ."
Having spoken it now seemed like the forehead caressing had to stop.
You've said your piece, Lizzy, if you keep doing it you will have to say something else and things will only become awkward from there.
Briefly I considered if I might transition from forehead petting to hair stroking but I determined, curiosity about the texture of his hair aside, he wasn't a dog and this wasn't the time.
I dropped my hand to my side.
Does he seem disappointed? Yes, I see it, there it is, disappointment lurking in his eyes. I suppose stopping as I had so suddenly might seem a little abrupt. Cold almost. One should not be cold when one is trying to demonstrate one's affection-but-not-quite-forgiveness.
In an effort to combat any perceived coldness, I touched my lips to his brow, which was, incidentally, quite warm. Perhaps he was taking ill. Merely for the sake of his health, I repeated the gesture and this time found he was precisely the temperature he ought to be.
Good.
Wonderful.
Perfect.
But perhaps—just perhaps—I maybe should probably kiss him? On the lips. You know, as an olive branch. Belinda did say she was not going to let us out until we kissed and made friends.
His lips were as warm and soft as I remembered and it would have been so simple to allow myself to melt into him—especially if he had done the thing with his tongue, which I had found so shocking the first time, but now quite appreciated—had he not pulled away after the briefest of kisses and asked, "Is this forgiveness? "
"No," I replied merrily, "I am still horribly angry with you."
I dipped a finger under the top of his waistcoat and pulled him to me once more.
Darcy kissed me back this time, but his lips moved hesitantly over mine.
This would not do at all. If he wasn't going to do the thing with his tongue, I would have to try it.
With an experimental flick I tasted his lips.
They were pleasantly salty and I was proud of myself for my bravery, but I think I ought to have pressed the point when his lips parted to draw a surprised breath.
It is all in the timing. I am certain an ill-timed tongue intrusion could lead to accidental biting, unimaginable pain, and the inability to speak properly for weeks.
I needed to practice. But first I needed to relocate because if I did not one of us was going to end up on the floor and it would not be at all humorous if it were me.
Darcy displayed some astonishment as I settled onto his lap, but accepted the change in arrangement with all eagerness. Still there was a pronounced absence of tongue.
It was as if he was trying to restrain himself. And indeed he must have been for the next moment he broke away and asked, "Are you?"
"Are you still angry with me?" he clarified seeing my confusion.
"Yes, absolutely seething. Can you not tell?
" I replied distractedly as I debated hiking up my skirts and straddling him, abandoning all pretense of propriety in the process.
Or perhaps it would be more expedient to simply request that we take to the floor now before we found ourselves there by adventitious means.
"I must admit I cannot."
"Well I am," I said as I tried to kiss him again.
He dodged me. "Why?"
I sighed to indicate my displeasure. He wanted to discuss this now? Reluctantly I returned to my chair.
One cannot be expected to properly lecture someone from their lap.
"I am still angry with you because you believed the worst of me. How could you ever think I would pressure Jane to pursue Mr. Bingley for mercenary reasons?" Ire flooded me at just the thought of his accusations.
"I should not have accused you of such fiendish motives, yet you were so dogged in your scheming despite her obvious discomfort I did not know what to make of it."
"Her discomfort was not so obvious."
Darcy arched a brow.
"Fine, it was fairly obvious. But you do not know Jane.
You do not understand how modest she is.
I knew it was not an absence of sentiment for Mr. Bingley that fueled her reluctance, rather it was a foolish belief that he did not return her affection.
And I was correct. Not only had Jane's own modesty thwarted their courtship, but the deceit of Miss Bingley played a significant, arguably the principle, role. "
I briefly laid out Miss Bingley's perfidious letter to Jane. Now that Darcy was being so apologetic it was not as great a triumph to condescendingly declare, "I told you so," however I did it anyway because it needed doing.
"I must apologize again," Darcy said when I had completed my tale and subsequent gloating. "I made assumptions I should not have. I know you well enough that I should not have assumed nefarious intent on your part despite your strange behavior."
"I did not behave that strangely."
I did not even need him to arch a brow at me this time.
"Fine," I conceded, "I can imagine how it looked. I made myself appear foolish. You must have been so embarrassed of me at Mrs. Hamilton's ball."
"More embarrassed for you than of you, I assure."
I laughed.
"You have the most beautiful laugh in the world, Mrs. Darcy."
"Flatterer!"
"I speak only the truth."
He leaned forward, looking at me with blazing eyes (desire this time). I pulled away before our lips could touch. I had something I needed to say before we ended up on the floor.
"I suppose I should apologize as well," I said. I looked at the carpet as I spoke. It was a difficult task apologizing, but I felt better for having done it.
I met Darcy's eyes to find him still staring at me expectantly.
"You know, my dear, declaring that you should apologize does not count as an apology."
Can you believe this man?
Do not answer that.
"You will note I did say 'I suppose'. I was not certain if I wanted to apologize and now I am quite certain I do not."
Darcy grinned.
"Stop smiling," I groused.
He continued grinning. Really, what woman could endure such tempting torture? All I can think about when he smiles so charmingly is kissing him. It is most disarming!
"All right, here it is: I am slightly sorry."
"Just slightly?" Darcy asked teasingly.
"Only slightly and getting less sorry by the moment.
I was not half so wrong as you. But I will admit I misjudged you from the first. Had I not assumed the worst of you, had I revealed my concerns about Jane to you instead of assuming you plotted against me, our disagreement might have been avoided entirely. "
"So I am to understand that you are a bit sorry for thinking I was a horrible brute whose every action was undertaken for the singular purpose of ruining you and your sister's happiness?"
"I never thought you were quite that terrible. But I am sorry. Slightly."
"And I am sorrier."
"Good, you should be."
Darcy chuckled at my jest.
"Really I am still quite mortified when I think of how I behaved recently. Especially at the Hamilton ball. I do hope there were not many witnesses. I fear marriage has turned me into my mama."
"Never say that," he quipped. Fearing he had offended me he immediately began to apologize, "I am sorry, I did not mean to imply—"
"You did and it is quite all right. I know how she is. And if you were not her awe-inspiring son-in-law
Mama would find it equally difficult to find a kind word for you. She quite despised you when you first arrived in Hertfordshire.
"She mortifies me most of the time, but I was proud of her for despising you.
One passing insult of my beauty was all it took for her to dismiss you entirely as a potential suitor for any of her daughters.
And she doesn't even like me all that much.
Some mothers with five unmarried daughters would ignore such a slight and simply throw a different daughter your way, but not Mama.
Wealth and prestige could not blind her to poor manners. "
"When did I ever say you were not beautiful?"
"At the assembly the evening we were introduced I overheard you telling Bingley 'She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me; I am in no humor at present to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.'"
"My God, did I really say it like that?"
"Yes, exactly like. I have an excellent memory and I entertained half of Hertfordshire by doing impressions of you saying it in your haughty voice. Everyone agreed it was the most pompous thing they had ever heard."
"Elizabeth, I am sorry."
"You seem to be saying that a lot lately," I teased.
"You must know by now you are certainly handsome enough to tempt me. I think you the most beautiful woman of my acquaintance who has the finest eyes in all of England."
"My eyes are only the finest in England, but my laugh is the most beautiful in the world.
Who is this foreign woman whose eyes are more beautiful than mine?
And how is it that you have become so well traveled that you can speak of all the world so confidently?
Are you a spy like your uncle?" I asked archly.
I was infinitely please by this compliments but I could not help but tease him.
He attempted to kiss me in reply. I dodged him again.
"You are trying to distract me. You are a spy, aren't you! Is that what you were doing when you had things to attend to?"
"I was walking Sir Sebastian, as you well know."
"I did not know. You walked him an awful lot."
"He is an energetic dog."
"And on these walks I suppose you met with other operatives in the park to exchange secrets."
"I am sorry to disappoint you, but I am nothing so dashing as a spy."
"That is probably for the best. It would be difficult to resist you if you were dashing."
"You can resist me now?"
"Oh, yes."
"Mrs. Darcy, I think you lie."
This time when he tried to kiss me I let him.
At long last he did the thing with his tongue