Chapter 20 #2
"Yes, Mr. Saunders?" I was extremely glad he had not found me seated on the floor of the linen closet hiding like a child. Standing in the linen closet is perfectly permissible. One might be doing anything.
"Forgive the intrusion, madam, but Mr. Bingley has just arrived. Should I put him in the drawing room?"
"No!" What is it with butlers always so eager to take people to the drawing room and announce them? One would think it was a duty of their positions or something.
"No," I repeated in a much more reasonable tone, "That will not do at all. Take him—" anywhere my mother is not, "to the study."
"As you wish. Shall I alert Mr. Darcy to his arrival?"
"No, I will tell Darcy. I need to speak to him anyway."
In truth I had every intention of finding Jane and sending her to the study, then finding Darcy and keeping him out of it. I never said I would not scheme to get Jane engaged to Mr. Bingley, I just said I didn't want Mama to do so.
I wished I had thought to question Saunders about the location of my eldest sister and husband prior to sending him off. Now I would have to search them out on my own.
Getting past the drawing room would be a challenge. I considered using the servants' stairs but dismissed the idea immediately. Hiding in the linen closet was one thing, start using the servants stair in your own home and it's all over. You are an Eccentric.
The door of drawing room was open to the hall and I could hear my mother's voice from a level below.
Her loudness would be to my advantage covering the sound of my approach, crossing in front of the door without being seen however would require speed.
Approaching the drawing room entrance at a run I leaped at the last moment, sailing past the door undetected.
It would have been a riotous success had I not flew straight into Darcy.
Darcy, impressively solid as he is, was not moved at all, whereas I bounced off him and would have landed quite soundly on my bottom had he not steadied me. As though we were dancing, Darcy steered me across the hall and into the library with one quick maneuver.
Both of us watched the door slowly swing back to a close. Privacy thus ensured Darcy proceeded to kiss me breathless.
This was exhilarating on multiple fronts.
There were the obvious physical effects. Heart racing. Loin clenching. Jelly Knees. That sort of thing.
But then there was also the fact that this was wonderful proof that he must not hate me entirely. I just do not believe people go about kissing people they hate, at least not so thoroughly.
"Darcy," I said when we parted to draw breath. You know, just in case he needed reminding who he was. And then, to my great horror, I added, "So you do still love me?"
Darcy stilled. Went completely statue-like. It was eerie. It would have been horrifying even if I had not just accused him of loving me.
"Not love!" I practically shouted careless to the fact Mama was just across the hall, "I didn't mean love, of course. You don't love me, and I certainly don't love you. That would be completely mad."
"Yes, completely mad," Darcy replied, his tone lowering the temperature of the room to the point I felt I would quite like a coat.
"Completely," I repeated weakly. I was so befuddled. Yes, I had spoken foolishly, but there was absolutely no reason for Darcy to look so . . . so . . . well, frankly he looked incensed.
His dark demeanor passed quickly. His lips quirked to a slight smile. A cold smile, not a real smile. He said with false pleasantness, "And of course I do not love you because that would be absurd."
"Yes, completely and utterly absurd," I said with my own false agreeableness. Now I was strangely angry. What on earth was the matter with us?
"Well, then."
"Yes," I said not having the least idea what I was agreeing with.
"I'm glad to have clarity on the matter."
Again, I replied, "Yes." Still as clueless as the first time I had said it.
"If you will excuse me I have things I must att—"
"No!" I exclaimed, once again forgetting myself and shouting. I pushed him back, he stumbled a little, his imbalance likely caused not by the force of my shove, but by the surprise at my fervor. "We are going to stay here and . . . and. . . ." Oh, hell what are we going to do?
"Not love each other?" Darcy asked with great vehemence.
"Yes," I replied with equal fury.
And then we started kissing again.
Don't worry, it doesn't make sense to me either.
"Bingley!" I cried out after some minutes of expert kissing.
Darcy did the eerie statue freeze thing again.
"I just remembered, I had Saunders put him in the study."
Darcy exhaled with obvious relief. "Yes, I know. I passed him in the hall. I told him I would be with him in a moment."
"Oh," I said, deflated, "Should you go to him?"
"I do not think he will notice my absence. Jane was already in the study seeking refuge from your mother."
"Excellent." It probably was not proper to leave them, but I was quite done with propriety at present. "In that case, perhaps we might retire upstairs . . . and have tea?"
"Tea?" he asked, kissing me teasingly. "Is that what we are calling it?"
I nodded. "Tea has the remarkable quality of being both soothing and invigorating. It is most healthful, yet we haven't had tea in days. We should be taking tea far more often."
"Indeed?"
"Oh, yes," I said, feeling emboldened to the point of insanity, "I even think it would be quite agreeable to have tea in the library."
"Ahem."
Darcy, model of dignity that he is, actually jumped higher and yelped louder than I did. Startled did not even begin to cover the rush of emotion I felt upon turning to see my father leaning non-nonchalantly against a bookshelf amused expression plastered irritatingly on his face.
"Papa! I was just—we were just—Darcy and I were just discussing—" I have no idea why I felt the need to explain myself, which was good because I had no idea how to explain myself.
"Tea, I think, was the primary subject of the conversation."
"Yes, I was suggesting we might be in need of refreshment," I said, blushing madly.
"Yes," Papa agreed, chuckling gallingly, "You both look quite thirsty."