Chapter Sixteen #3
The answer should have sounded like a challenge. Instead, it sent a fresh warmth through her as he offered his arm and led her from the floor.
The first dance gave way to another, and then another, until the room settled into the easy disorder of a small house party where partners were exchanged with ease and no one appeared willing to let the evening end.
Elizabeth danced once with Colonel Fitzwilliam, who spent half the set praising Jane and the other half looking at her and missing several steps in the process.
Later she accepted Mr Hadley, whose good humour survived even his own admitted uncertainty over the figures.
Darcy, meanwhile, was claimed by Clara, then Miss Drummond, and once by Harriet, who returned him to Elizabeth with the solemn assurance that he had acquitted himself tolerably.
By the time Miss Grey began a lively reel, the company had abandoned any remaining restraint.
Laughter broke across the room whenever someone missed a turn, and even Lady Hortensia tapped her cane in time with the music.
Elizabeth entered into it with more energy than judgement and finished the final figure flushed and breathless.
"I must beg a moment," she said, drawing aside as the others began calling for another dance. "I cannot answer for my dignity if I attempt one more."
Jane smiled and allowed Colonel Fitzwilliam to lead her back into the forming set, while Elizabeth moved towards the open doors for cooler air. She had only just reached them when Darcy came to stand beside her.
"You are not dancing?"
"Not until I have recovered the use of my lungs."
His mouth shifted. "Then perhaps the terrace would serve you better than the doorway."
Elizabeth looked at him. The noise of the room continued behind them, but his attention was entirely upon her.
"Are you asking me to go outside with you, Mr Darcy?"
"I am." There was nothing hesitant in the answer.
Elizabeth glanced once towards the dancers, then back at him. "Very well."
He offered his arm, and together they passed through the open doors onto the terrace.
The air upon the terrace was cool after the heat of the drawing room, and Elizabeth drew a deep breath as the doors closed behind them.
Music and laughter still carried faintly through the glass, but outside the night was quiet.
Lamps burned along the stone balustrade, casting a low golden light across the paving, and beyond them the gardens disappeared into darkness.
Elizabeth rested one hand upon the balustrade and tried to steady her breathing. She had expected Darcy to speak, but when she turned he was only looking at her. The expression in his eyes made her pulse quicken all over again.
He took one step towards her, then another. "Tell me to stop."
His voice was low and roughened in a way she had never heard before. Elizabeth knew that she ought to answer. Instead, she gave the smallest nod of her head.
Darcy closed the distance between them. His hands came to her waist and his mouth found hers with none of the uncertainty of their first kiss.
Elizabeth caught at the front of his coat as he drew her closer, answering him before sense could interfere.
The kiss deepened quickly, fuelled by everything they had attempted to deny since the terrace the evening before.
His restraint seemed to break beneath her hands, and she felt the answering urgency in the way he held her, firm enough to leave no doubt of his desire but never so tightly that she could not have drawn away.
She did not wish to draw away.
Darcy kissed her until she could scarcely remember where they stood.
He ran his tongue over the seam of her lips and they parted to allow him access before she answered his tongue with her own.
His mouth moved from hers to the corner of her lips, then lower along the line of her jaw.
Elizabeth tipped her head back, letting out a small contented sound as his breath warmed her skin.
When his lips touched the sensitive place beneath her ear, she gave a soft gasp and felt him shudder against her.
"Elizabeth," he murmured, his mouth against her throat. "You are the sweetest thing I have ever tasted."
The words brought her sharply back to herself. What could she have been thinking? She pushed against his chest and stepped away. Darcy released her at once, though his breathing remained uneven and his eyes were still dark with desire.
"We promised no more of this," she said. Her voice was unsteady, and she hated that he must hear it. "And now look at us."
"Elizabeth—"
"No. Please allow me to finish." She folded her arms across herself, gathering what remained of her composure.
"I am not so foolish that I do not understand the difference between us, Mr Darcy.
You are a man of consequence, with a great estate and every expectation of marrying within your own circle.
I am the daughter of an obscure country gentleman with very little fortune. "
His expression altered. "What are you saying?"
"That whatever this is, it cannot mean the same thing to you that it does to me."
Elizabeth pressed on before courage deserted her.
"I came to Chaffley Hall in search of adventure.
I wanted something different from the life I had always known, and perhaps I allowed that desire to carry me further than it ought.
I have accepted liberties I had no right to permit and encouraged you when I should have known better. "
Darcy stared at her, disbelief giving way to anger. "You believe I brought you out here merely to take advantage of you?"
"I believe you desire me."
"I do."
The answer came without hesitation, and the force of it sent heat into her face.
"But you believe that is all I feel?" he demanded. "That I would take what you offered and leave you to bear the consequences?"
Elizabeth looked away. "What else am I to think?"
He stepped towards her, then stopped himself. "Do you truly think me so base? That I would use you so ill?"
His anger struck her harder than any denial. It was not the anger of a man whose intentions had been exposed, but of one who had been deeply insulted. For one terrible instant she wondered whether she had misunderstood everything.
Darcy's voice lowered, though none of the feeling left it. "Whatever you may think of my pride, I have never treated a woman's honour lightly. I would sooner cut off my own hand than take advantage of you."
Elizabeth's throat tightened. "Then why did you suggest this morning that we forget what happened?"
"Because I believed it was what you wanted." Darcy dragged one hand through his hair, his composure nearly gone. "You broke away from me. You were angry with yourself, and when I offered you the means to put the matter aside, you agreed. What was I to conclude?"
"I thought you regretted it."
"And I thought you did."
The words fell between them, but Elizabeth could not bear to remain and examine what they meant. The shame of her accusation, the force of his anger and the confusion gathering around them were suddenly too much.
"I cannot do this."
She turned before he could stop her and hurried towards the doors.
"Elizabeth."
She did not look back. She crossed the drawing room with several faces turning towards her and left through the opposite door before anyone could stop her.