Chapter 8 Festive Commemoration #2
“I know you too well, Darcy,” Bingley said, interrupting Darcy’s revisit of the previous night’s dinner conversation.
Turning from the window, smug grin in place, he walked across the parlor toward the door.
“You would no more miss an opportunity to be alone with your betrothed than I would mine. If Mr. and Mrs. Bennet interpret two open carriages driving together as allowable under the rules of propriety, who am I to argue? Besides, we both have excellent vision so can see the other carriage even if little more than a dot on the horizon. If asked, we can swear we were within eyesight the whole time.”
Pausing on the threshold to the foyer, Bingley winked and then laughed.
Instantly in a jolly disposition, Darcy hastily followed, forgetting all about birthdays and the rather bizarre case of forgetfulness too.
His thoughts had already skipped ahead. After all, a couple in love could enjoy all manner of tender liberties when bundled under concealing blankets on a deserted country road!
* * *
Darcy and Elizabeth were closing in on six weeks since she had accepted his second proposal of marriage.
Of all the remarkable developments between them during those weeks, the most surprising to Darcy was how incredibly close they had grown.
He had anticipated complete accord to evolve after they exchanged vows, with the weeks of courtship establishing foundational stones to build upon later.
Instead, he often found it necessary to remind himself that they were not already wed.
The degree of comfort he felt with Elizabeth was extreme, and he knew she felt the same.
Conversation, no matter the topic, was as spontaneous as breathing.
Good-natured raillery and private jokes flowed.
Best of all, or worst of all depending on the place or people present, was the intensity of their mutual attraction and how natural the expression.
He had lost count of the number of times he caught himself before caressing her cheek or even planting a soft kiss while in the middle of a crowded room.
Probably a few more than the times he hadn’t stopped the impulse, but not by a wide margin.
It was quite alarming how rapidly his restraint, the product of nearly thirty years of harsh discipline, was disappearing.
Then, he would receive a spontaneous peck on his cheek or firm squeeze of his hand, gaze into her love-filled eyes, and any concerns would flitter away.
What was the worst that could happen? A disapproving glare he would not notice anyway?
A stern rebuke he would apologize for and then promptly disregard?
The world would not screech to a halt if Darcy of Pemberley broke a rule or acted in a less-than-perfect manner.
The second he drove the phaeton off the busier thoroughfare connecting Longbourn to the village of Meryton, he scooted closer to Elizabeth until they were pressed together hip to toe.
She welcomed the maneuver by ensuring the woolen blankets draped over their lower bodies weren’t caught in between them and then rested one gloved hand just above his knee.
The sun was shining between the wisps of clouds, so while colder than it had been thus far that November, the air temperature was rising.
Then again, even if it had been arctic out, the heat of her touch would have been more than enough to ward off the deepest chill.
Between the distraction of her fingertips lazily stroking tiny circles and his own searching for the side road he intended to take, Darcy belatedly realized what Elizabeth was chatting about.
“Where did you learn of a new publication upcoming from Lord Byron? I hadn’t heard that news.”
“Really? It was listed in the ‘Literary Intelligence’ section of this month’s Gentleman’s Magazine. You do not subscribe?”
“I do, but it was just published and I have been rather occupied of late, in case you had not noticed.” She nudged his side, laughing.
Continuing in as serious a tone as he could muster, he said, “I am surprised a genteel lady such as yourself, Miss Bennet, would waste her delicate intellect on a magazine primarily intended for the male mind.”
“Well, naturally I first scour through La Belle Assemblée and the Lady’s Magazine until they’re memorized.
I only flip open the Gentleman’s Magazine to read the recipes and domestic articles Mr. Urban has included.
It isn’t my fault if my eyes accidentally fall on the latest news from Parliament, crime reports, and literature reviews. ”
“Yes, I see. Indeed it is the editor’s fault.
” Darcy winked but kept his focus on the road as he made the tight turn onto the narrower lane.
“Now that we have cleared that up,” he resumed once safely heading straight, “I thank you for the information. I shall send a note to Mr. Hatchard in London, asking him to procure a copy of Lord Byron’s poems as soon as it is available.
In December, you say? He can send it to Pemberley, then.
It shall give us something to do on those long nights. ”
“Ha! If I have my way, sir, reading will be the last activity on your mind, particularly at night.”
Darcy nearly choked and had to swallow several times. Despite their comfort with each other and their mutual passionate desire, bold references to lovemaking still surprised him!
“While you are making requests, William, if you do not mind, there were a couple of other titles I am also interested in.”
“Of course, Elizabeth. Anything you wish. All you have to do is ask. If they are already released publications, I can check with Mr. Leonard at the book shop in Meryton. He seems competent.”
“You can ask and may have influence where I don’t.
” At his frown, Elizabeth shrugged. “Both titles I want are written by women. Mr. Leonard is old-fashioned about such things. Your jesting a moment ago would be a fervently held opinion of his, trust me. I rather doubt he allows Mrs. Leonard to read a lady’s magazine, if she can read at all. ”
“Such attitudes are outrageous,” Darcy fumed. “Never mind then. I’d just as soon not do business with him. Mr. Hatchard usually has new books on hand anyway, so can have them delivered to you at Longbourn.”
Pleased at that report, she said no more. Bobbing her chin toward the approaching end of the lane. “We are to visit the bluffs?”
Snickering, Darcy nodded. “We are, although I cannot help but laugh at the local moniker for what barely constitutes a hill being ‘the bluffs.’ I’ve seen fairy mounds that were higher.”
“Allow us deprived flatlanders our delusions, please. We aren’t blessed to have the majestic Peaks in our backyard, rising to uncharted elevations. Why I heard intrepid climbers are giving up on scaling the Himalayan heights in lieu of challenging the Derbyshire Peaks!”
“Ha-ha, very funny. But, the point is valid. It is a matter of perspective in the end. I will concede the view from your revered bluff is an impressive panorama. Bingley and I thought that with the snow, the view should be lovelier still.”
“Ah, yes. The view. That is why you chose this destination. What other reason could there be?”
Darcy’s answer was a lusty grin and penetrating leer from her mouth to bosom.
Her instant reaction was a bright flush to her cheeks and averted face.
One minute saucy and alluding to bedroom activities, the next blushing and struck with shyness—oh, how he adored his Elizabeth’s mix of brazenness and innocence!
Moments later, they reached the wide clearing of the so-called bluff.
Darcy steered to the right, a quick glance noting Bingley driving his phaeton to the left.
Directing the horses into a slight angle, he reined them to a stop and set the brake.
Another swift inspection revealed Bingley doing the same, the two open carriages within eyesight of each other, and within hearing if one shouted, but aligned so unable to peer directly into the hooded seating area.
Securing the reins before taking off his gloves, Darcy turned toward Elizabeth.
A playful smirk curved her lips, and one brow was lifted, and her brown eyes sparkled naughtily.
She didn’t need to comment on the parking arrangement for him to know she understood completely.
Quite sure his own expression was similarly naughty and playful, he slipped his right arm over her shoulders and drew her into his body.
The shift in position slid her hand higher up his thigh until dangerously close to his groin—a pleasant relocation that raised his internal temperature.
“So, Miss Bennet, shall we enjoy the view?”
“I have seen it before, with more snow than this, in fact. I doubt much has changed.”
Needing no further encouragement, Darcy lifted his hand to her face and lightly stroked her delicate skin.
There was no need to rush this sweet interlude.
He and Bingley had agreed—in halting and cryptic verbiage, as neither was comfortable discussing matters of intimacy—to limit their time at the bluff to thirty minutes tops.
Without expressly saying it, each man comprehended the hazards in pushing boundaries. They were, after all, only human!
Cradling Elizabeth’s jaw in his palm, he drew her tighter into his embrace while bending to meet her upturned lips.
As always, that initial moment of contact, whether gentle or firm, took his breath away.
A muffled sigh caught in his throat and a sizzling current of heat rushed through his body.
Instantly, his groin stiffened, and a harsh mental rebuke was necessary to deter a full-blown arousal that would rob him of the last shreds of coherency.
Instinctively intensifying the kiss, one thought screamed through his mind: Dear God, how desperately I want to make love to her!