Chapter 11 Significant Introspection #3
I impatiently await your presence to assuage my aching heart.
I wished to ride to Longbourn at first light, but, again, Bingley’s rationale prevailed.
As it is, this missive is undoubtedly disturbing your breakfast, but I can wait no longer!
The carriage is for you, dearest, and Jane as well, naturally.
If your desire to see me is even half as profound as my need to see you, then you are already racing to the door! Hurry, my love.
Yours forever, Fitzwilliam Darcy
She would laugh aloud at his exaggerations, he knew, not that a good portion of his note wasn’t precise.
He had yet to speak with Bingley that morning—a glance at the clock showed the minute hand almost to half six—but could rightly guess the younger man would balk at descending upon Longbourn or sending the carriage at this impolite hour.
Darcy suspected Elizabeth would not protest if he showed up on her doorstep no matter the time.
Her father and mother, on the other hand, would be slightly put out.
The real deciding factor in waiting until a reasonable hour was the sorry state of his person when he took a long look in the mirror.
The effects of drink and a strenuous journey had disappeared with hours of heavy sleep.
The effects of accumulated layers of mud washed off negligently as they were last night were another story.
His reflection was downright ghastly. A soaking bath was the first order of business, followed by a shave and trimming his unruly hair.
He didn’t want to frighten his betrothed into a heart seizure days away from their wedding.
Not quite four hours later, an outrageous length of time as far as Darcy was concerned, he planted himself in front of the window facing the gravel driveway.
He honestly was not aware of the coiled energy causing him to pace until Bingley laughingly admonished, “Darcy! For pity’s sake, man, please sit down. You are wearing a hole in my carpet.”
Sure, it was easy for Charles to sit calmly in his chair. He had been in the company of his betrothed every day all week.
“What could possibly be taking her…them, so long?”
“Be patient, Darcy. It is quite early, and the carriage left not an hour ago. Women need time to prepare, trust me. You might as well start getting used to delays. My sisters are always late.”
The last thing Darcy wanted to hear was even the remotest reference to Caroline Bingley.
A sharp retort on his lips, his attention was diverted by a flash of black beyond the trees.
Yes. Aware on some level that his beaming grin and bouncing leap in the direction of the door made him appear foolish, he simply didn’t care, not even when Bingley’s laughter nipped at his heels.
Luckily, the butler had noted the arriving carriage and had the front door open, although he was forced to skip to the side or be bowled over.
Darcy was down the steps and had flung the carriage door wide before the vehicle came to a complete stop.
Revealing her anxiousness, Elizabeth had already half risen from the bench, her smile as giddy as his and her eyes were dancing.
Propriety be damned, he reached in, encircled her slim waist with his broad hands, and lifted her out of the carriage.
When her toes were touching the ground, he let go only long enough to grab her into his arms, twirling about as they laughed.
Truthfully, why he held himself back from kissing her passionately on the spot was moronic—some residue of what constitutes gentlemanly behavior pounded into his brain since he was able to toddle.
Instead, he cupped her face and leaned close, whispering, “I love you, Elizabeth.”
“Why, Mr. Darcy, I get the impression you missed me just a little.”
“More than I have the words to express, my sweet. Nor would I want to try. From this moment onward, only happy words of love, if we must use words at all over other, preferable methods of expressing our joy.” As he hoped, his suggestion brought a tint of pink to her cheeks, and she ducked her head.
Clasping his arm, she nudged them toward the door.
“We feared your breakfast might have been interrupted,” Darcy explained loud enough for Charles and Jane to hear as they climbed the steps and entered the foyer.
“I confess the early summons was entirely my idea. Bingley sternly exerted his good manners and sense of decency. He is not to blame for my blatantly ignoring him and badgering of the staff to do the same.”
Laughing, Jane lightly touched her future brother’s forearm. “Do not concern yourself, Mr. Darcy. Neither Lizzy nor I felt put upon. In fact, not a word of protest was given, nor did my sister waste seconds to frame a witty retort to Papa’s tease.”
“Indeed, that says it all then,” Bingley proclaimed, smiling at Elizabeth. “Just in case we caught our ladies with their hunger unsatisfied, we have a light repast prepared in the breakfast room. Come!”
“I could not eat a bite earlier, so I am starving,” Darcy murmured after sneaking a kiss to Elizabeth’s cheek. “Even so, what I truly hunger for are your lips. Perhaps a brief detour into yonder closet, Miss Elizabeth?”
“You, sir, are incorrigible!”
“Guilty as charged. Was that a yes, then?” It was a spontaneous joke, but he still felt faintly disappointed when she chuckled and shook her head.
The quartet, clustered at one end of the table, relaxed into the joyous reunion.
Darcy truly was famished, eating heartily while chattily reporting the highlights of his week in between bites.
Elizabeth nibbled and sipped absently, seemingly content to allow him to do all the talking.
Gradually, the vague sense of disquiet stirred while reading her two letters, which he had all but forgotten, rekindled.
As with her writing, he could not pin down the cause of his nebulous feelings but could also not shake them.
For instance, she held his hand a bit too tightly and was adverse to letting go, even when he needed it to cut his meat.
Her eyes did not leave his face except for when he peered directly at her for longer than five seconds, her gaze always sliding away before he could decipher the odd shimmer within.
A smile curved her plump lips but it never wavered, as if it were painted onto her face or molded from plaster.
Strangest of all, she said very little aside from a handful of perfunctory comments and superficial questions.
Of note was when candidly recounting the evening of “bachelor debauchery” with Richard.
He suspected she was not listening to a word he said since she had yet to laugh or insert a single sportive wisecrack, a suspicion verified when, in the middle of a sentence, she leaned into his side and interrupted.
“William,” she whispered softly into his ear, “I am elated to have you back.
I missed you terribly and was devastated not to see you yesterday.
Nevertheless, I must scold you for venturing into the storm.
You could have been injured or—“ She gulped.
“What would I do at the altar with no groom to wed me?”
He apologized profusely and sincerely. Each of them tried to make a joke out of the painful separation and of what could have been a tragedy.
He told her of the journey, focusing on the pleasanter portions at the pub and glossing over the violence of the storm and the resulting road hazards.
She seemed placated but not exactly cheered either.
Simply put, she wasn’t the Elizabeth he knew so very well, and he had to find out why once and for all.
As the meal drew to the end, Bingley and Jane suggested a walk in the garden. Although the paths were likely to be wet, the sun was shining for the first time in days. Frankly, the prospect of an invigorating walk was highly appealing. A sidelong inspection of Elizabeth’s face changed his mind.
Rising from the table, Darcy stayed Elizabeth with a light press of his palm upon the small of her back.
She glanced upward with a questioning lift of her brow, but Darcy directed his attention to Bingley.
“A walk does sound lovely, Charles, now that the weather has decided to behave. If you do not mind, we shall join you in a bit. I have a gift for Elizabeth in the library which I can no longer wait to give.”
Bingley was understandably puzzled since he had not seen Darcy go anywhere near the library all morning, but he rapidly recovered, smoothing his features and leading Jane away.
“Another gift, sir? At this rate, I will be doing nothing but shopping for the first week of our marriage just to catch up,” Elizabeth said as they crossed the library threshold. Her attempt to tease was strained, as all of them had been that morning.
Leaving the door partially ajar, Darcy guided her to a far corner within eyesight of the entrance but well away from any curious listening ears.
Rather than speaking, he enfolded her in his arms and bent to deliver the ardent kiss his soul had craved for over a week.
Truthfully, it was a chaste kiss compared to the one he hungered to engage in, but he knew letting loose his need for her, even in a tempered fashion, would consume him.
It was extremely difficult to remove his lips from the warm, satiny skin of her neck, and harder still to release her from his embrace.
Her passion-glazed eyes were nearly his undoing, but then he gleaned a hint of questioning deep within their chocolate depths.
Talking to her was, at this juncture, more important.
Steering her to the sofa, they sat with knees touching and hands entwined. “Forgive me, Elizabeth, but the gift was a small deception. It is time for you to tell me what has been troubling you.”
Her eyes widened and then swiftly darted to the side. “What do you mean?”