Chapter 5
Food was announced, and Darcy escorted Mrs Bennet to the dining room.
She was chattering incessantly, hardly pausing for breath.
And to think there was once a time she was intimidated by me, Darcy reflected wistfully, remaining silent as she detailed the recent treatment for her bunions.
Mercifully, he was granted a quick reprieve when Mrs Bennet spotted Mrs Cadwick on the other side of the room and rushed towards her.
The older lady had lately returned from Bath and was apparently in possession of some titillating news of a mutual acquaintance.
Guests filtered in through the doors from the saloon, and the temperature became oppressively hot.
He found his seat. The food was beginning to be served, but he wanted to wait for Elizabeth to enter the room before filling his plate.
His stomach growled, and he hoped she would not be too much longer; the morning’s breakfast was nothing more than a pleasant memory.
Mrs Bennet returned to his side. “Your glass is empty, my king.” She swung round and, with operatic flourishes, warbled for another to be brought to Darcy.
This was not the first time she had done this in his presence, and he was horrified to realise that he was becoming accustomed to her sporadic outbursts of song.
Elizabeth was still nowhere to be seen, and in the intervening time, Mrs Bennet proceeded to inform Darcy of all the particulars concerning Mrs Cadwick’s wayward nephew and an actress.
His neck became stiff from nodding, and he was grateful when another drink was pressed into his hand.
He took a long swig and bit back a splutter as the potent liquid stung his throat.
He examined the glass, wondering whether the punch had always been so strong.
A soothing hand to his arm signalled Elizabeth’s presence. “Goodness, how many is that?” When she saw he could not immediately answer, she continued with an amused expression, “You are certainly enjoying yourself tonight. Do not look to me for sympathy when your head aches tomorrow.”
“Leave my poor Mr Darcy alone.” Mrs Bennet waggled her finger at Elizabeth. “We are having tremendous fun together. You must not spoil it with all this scolding.”
Elizabeth frowned. “Allow me a moment to speak privately with my husband.” Without waiting for her mother to answer, she motioned for him to accompany her. He excused himself from the table and followed her to a less occupied corner of the room.
She stood close to him, and his senses were clouded by her presence. With a frown, she said quietly, “Can you explain to me what you are doing?”
The edges of the room swam about Darcy, and for a moment his wife was all he could see.
She was so lovely, his dearest Elizabeth, even when she looked annoyed, and he wanted very much to clasp his hands about that delicate waist and tell her so.
But that would not be permissible at a party, would it?
How alluring she looked in that dress! His gaze roamed her body, wishing they were alone so he might trace his fingers along its delicious softness.
“You are yet to answer my question.” Elizabeth’s voice broke his reverie. Her eyes narrowed. “Are you intoxicated?”
“What? No!” His voice echoed in his head, sounding louder than he had intended it to be. “I have only had three glasses.”
“You are drinking on an empty stomach,” Elizabeth admonished. “You are to have no more.”
“Your concern is unnecessary.” He waved his hands about in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. “I have drunk far more than this in the past and remained unaffected.”
Her expressive eyes widened with concern. “Why do you not retire to bed after dinner? I shall make an excuse for you. You do not need to drink yourself into oblivion just so you are able to withstand my mother’s party.”
She still thinks I am unable to enjoy myself. Displeasure flooded Darcy’s chest, and a rebellious streak came alive inside him. “I am not drunk,” he insisted, a little too emphatically. “I am having fun.”
Elizabeth leant closer, and for an irresistible moment he thought she might kiss him. A warmth flowed into his body, and he looked down at her lustfully through a heady fog of desire and alcohol.
She drew away sharply. “You remind me of my father’s drinks cabinet.”
His ardour doused by her withdrawal, he scowled. “Did you just sniff my breath?”
“I could hardly avoid it. You smell like a tavern.”
Affronted, he replied, “Your worries are unfounded. I am of a strong constitution and never feel the effect of alcohol.” As he said this, his hand slipped, and drops of punch splashed onto his breeches.
Elizabeth’s lips tugged. “How fortunate that at least one of us believes that to be true.” All traces of annoyance were gone as she gazed up at him, her forehead creased with worry.
“I have no wish to argue with you, for your presence here is purely for my benefit and I am truly grateful.” Her voice softened.
“But eat something. And do not drink any more of my mother’s punch. Heaven knows what has been put in it.”
Darcy pointed defiantly to the crown upon his head. “You forget I am the king and can do what I please.”
Behind him, Mrs Bennet called out his name. “Where is Mr Darcy? You must come to my side, for you are needed with me.”
This time Elizabeth was laughing properly, and she motioned for him to rejoin her mother. “Yes, my dear—I can see that you are in charge, and you have it all in hand.” She kissed him lightly on his cheek. “I shall make you a plate of food, and you must be sure to eat it all.”