Chapter 3 Invigorating Interaction #4
“Stand up, Elizabeth, and let us try this again,” Darcy directed, once he’d regained a modicum of control.
“Now, sit on the sofa next to me, close,” he hastily insisted, patting the space next to his right thigh.
Lizzy complied. “There, is that not better? Comfortable, and without the shattered dignity of being sprawled across my lap, as pleasant as it was.”
“Better…yes,” she concurred between giggles further instigated by his comment and his awkward assistance in smoothing her skirt over her legs. “You really are terrible at this, you know.”
“If by ‘this’ you mean being scared out of my wits by skulking women who then manhandle me into a kissing dance across the room, I admit you are correct. I guess I should have practiced previously.”
Lizzy grunted and gave a hard tug on the dangling end of his cravat. “I was referring to your lack of skill in rearranging fabric. It is muslin, for heaven’s sake! Imagine the consequences if I were wearing silk.”
“Either would be attached to your body, my dear, and likely to have lacy layers or sashes or some other adornment I am unsure of the proper placement for.”
Turning to gaze upon him full in the face for the first time since entering the room some fifteen minutes prior, Lizzy instantly understood what he meant.
She absorbed the picture of her handsome betrothed in his shirtsleeves with neckcloth untied just enough to expose the hollow at his throat and several dark hairs.
Merely imagining her hands coming into close contact with his body to retie his cravat or slip on his jacket made joyful flutters dance in her belly.
Noting how his hair was delightfully disarrayed, and that his facial expression was one of amusement and simmering desire increased the tingling sensations.
Then he dropped his gaze to linger upon her recently kiss-smothered chest.
“On second thought,” she blurted, “you being clumsy and inept has a certain charm I rather like.”
“I pray you are not describing the kiss itself?” His resonant purr and smoky-blue eyes made her shiver.
He pressed one hand to her cheek, fingertips embedding into the curls by her ear, and drew her close.
“I cannot claim great practice in that activity either, but have been under the impression we were doing well. Was I mistaken?”
“No, you are not mistaken at all. Although I do anticipate we will improve with practice.”
“I, for one, will greatly enjoy testing that theory.” And before she could manage a nod of agreement, he was proving how true this was.
He kept the kiss short—much to Lizzy’s chagrin—pulling away to settle casually into the sofa corner.
Grasping onto her hand, he smiled and asked, “Did you bribe my butler, or was he a willing participant in this deception?”
“The latter. I could be mistaken, but I sense a cheekiness hidden under the proper exterior.”
“You are not mistaken. He has served as my butler for over a decade, and as underbutler prior to his advancement for longer than I can remember. He is an excellent manager and a good man. His air of humor is familiar and comfortable, having known him for so long. He is professional, yet, unlike Mr. Taylor at Pemberley, Mr. Travers has a lighter side that the staff responds well to. They appreciate his humor—except for Mrs. Smyth,” he confided with a mischievous chuckle.
“It drives her insane. Not that she has ever said a word to me against him, but I detect the currents.”
“You surprise me, Mr. Darcy.”
“In what way?”
“I would not have suspected you to be tolerant of anything less than strict discipline amongst your staff. I mean no offense yet must confess my image was of you as more controlling. Now I see clearer what Mrs. Reynolds meant in her exalting praise of you as a master.”
“She is a kind woman,” he replied in an embarrassed mumble.
“No, I am not offended, my dear. I suppose if not for my grandfather I probably would be more controlling. His leadership style and belief were that, in general, servants and tenants want a master who sets the rules, listens to their concerns, assists when necessary, but otherwise leaves them alone to do their jobs. What do I know about being a butler? Or cook? Or farmer for that matter? Even in those areas I do have more knowledge, specifically our horses, I respect the experience of the grooms and breeders who live and breathe thoroughbreds. Hire capable people, my grandfather said, then you can sit back and relax. Not that he ever relaxed.”
“Nor do you, I suspect.”
He shrugged. “Too much relaxation makes one fat and dulls the wits. My expectations for my sex are more stringent than those for yours, if you can believe it.” Lizzy laughed as she nodded. “On the subject of accomplished women, did my sister perform brilliantly as hostess today?”
“Beyond brilliant.” Lizzy described their afternoon, up to and including Georgiana’s humorous remembrance of meeting Mr. Bingley for the first time. “She is a dear girl, William. Truly. I am grateful for today’s opportunity to know her better.”
“Georgie was nervous. We share the common flaw of not easily conversing with unfamiliar people. As you have wisely noted numerous times, practice is the key to improvement.” His salacious grin let her know he was not referring only to conversation.
“This afternoon provided an opportunity for my sister, as well as for me.”
“I detected scant nervousness and conversation was never a problem.” Lizzy wisely left the kissing-practice reference alone. “My conclusion is that neither of you is as flawed as you think.”
“I will concede this is partially true. Except for when around beautiful women I want to impress.”
“Women?” She stressed the plural and raised one eyebrow.
“Yes, sadly. Although with you I was especially tongue-tied and horrid when I did speak.”
“Well, you are managing quite capably now, Mr. Darcy, and since you no longer need to impress other women, future interactions promise smoother sailing.”
If he discerned the sharp edge to her tone, he did not comment on it.
Instead, he slapped one hand onto his thigh, declaring as he rose from the sofa, “Speaking of impressing people and ease in conversation, I have an invitation to share. My uncle and aunt, Lord and Lady Matlock, are lately arrived in London and have expressed a desire to meet the woman who has captured my heart. They have invited us, and Mr. Bennet, of course, to dine with them tomorrow. They have a townhouse on Saint James’s Square… ”
He rambled on, Lizzy watching him sift through several papers on his desk before selecting a folded foolscap with a broken wax seal. Presumably it was the invitation, but Lizzy’s attention wandered to the view of his backside, as it was the first time she’d seen it uncovered by his jacket.
She had never exhibited interest in a gentleman’s posterior and, like many revelations during the past weeks, was amazed how enticing the angle.
Even as she lost herself in the emotions stirred by her fiancé’s masculine figure, an academic portion of her brain analyzed whether it was his form causing her heart to pound or merely maturity and awakening desires in a general sense.
Then he bent over to grab the ledger off the floor, the fabric tightening and outlining his firm buttocks and muscled back in a highly pleasant manner, and the answer was immediately clear.
Realizing how ridiculous the question was in the first place, Lizzy nearly laughed aloud.
She did not have to clinically line up a dozen jacketless men bending at the waist to know that none of them would affect her as William did.
The direction of her gaze did not shift speedily enough when he pivoted about, so her expression undoubtedly revealed at least a portion of her musings.
Darcy’s commentary—which Lizzy had not heard a word of—faltered slightly and a faint rosiness spread across his cheeks.
He said nothing about her intimate ogling, thankfully, handing the invitation to her while resuming his report.
“Colonel Fitzwilliam plans to join the party. Thus, the group will consist of only eight. Hardly an intimidating number for one with your dexterity in social situations.”
“Eight?” Lizzy blurted, perceiving when he lifted one brow that, by asking, she revealed her previous inattention. Warmth flooded her cheeks, the heat rising at his amused reply.
“Did you arrive at a different calculation? I believe I correctly applied the mathematics, but perhaps I was mistaken. Let’s see, the list includes you, me, Mr. Bennet, and Colonel Fitzwilliam.
That is four. My cousin Annabella and her husband have a prior engagement, so we cannot count them.
Lord and Lady Matlock make six, and with my cousin Jonathan and his wife the number rises to eight. Yes?”
“I think I like the taciturn, humorless Mr. Darcy better.”
Laughing, Darcy crossed to the corner coat rack.
“He is still here, trust me, and you shall see him often enough if that is any consolation.” Jacket donned, he set to retying his cravat, doing so deftly while stepping to his desk.
“Additionally, I received a missive from Mrs. Reynolds today. Included in her report were specificities I am to obtain directly from you to ensure meeting your needs.”
Rifling once again through the stack of papers until he found the one he wanted, Darcy then turned back toward her. “I do pray, Miss Elizabeth, we can supply the information for Mrs. Reynolds without fretful expressions of inconveniencing the Pemberley staff?”
Noting his smile and glittering eyes, Lizzy lifted her chin and crossed her arms. “That depends, Mr. Darcy. Is this a ploy to uncover personal details you are too polite to ask or I refuse to divulge?”
“Not this time. My housekeeper acted on her own, I promise, and you can write directly to her with your responses—those you wish to divulge, that is.”