Chapter 4 #3
“Only for short visits to my uncle’s family. They live in Cheapside—not near the fashionable haunts of Mayfair.” She gave him a self-deprecating smile.
Clearly she didn’t mind his knowing that her uncle was in trade. That should further dissuade him from considering marriage to her. Strangely, though, it did not. He admired her forthrightness.
Darcy invested heavily in trade. Emerging industries meant great fortunes could be made. His holdings were diverse, to reduce risk. But he respected the inventors and entrepreneurs who were changing the economic landscape.
“Have you been to the London theatres?” he asked.
“I saw a wonderful production of A Midsummer Night’s Dream two years ago. I never laughed so hard in my life.”
“You love to laugh.”
She chuckled at that, a happy sound that lifted some of the tension in his chest. “Is that a fault in my character?” she asked.
“Not at all. You remind me to seek more opportunities to laugh.”
Walking in silence, they reached the ornate fountain in the garden’s heart. Water cascaded musically over the tiers of stone.
At last, she said, “Your life has not been easy. You may have all the material comforts a man could desire. But at your relatively young age, you’ve lost both your parents. You inherited the responsibilities of an estate and a younger sister’s care. I understand how you might forget to laugh.”
Emotion gathered in Darcy’s throat. He could not speak.
“I can’t imagine it,” Elizabeth continued, her voice taut. “My family has been lucky. A household with five sisters can be noisy at times. But I wouldn’t trade any of them for silence.”
Darcy struggled to recover his voice. “I confess, I’ve often wished for more siblings. Fortunately, my uncle has a large family, so I have a multitude of cousins.”
“You’re close to them?”
“Very much so.” He smiled fondly. “They would like you.”
“Me?” she exclaimed. “They wouldn’t be shocked to see me arrive at their country house with my hem soaked in mud?”
Her words set off alarm bells in his head. Had she overheard Caroline saying something of that nature? The thought angered him. A compassionate woman like Elizabeth did not deserve Caroline’s spite.
He kept his voice calm as the path led them out of the formal garden through a gap in the hedge. “My uncle would be delighted by your boldness. He complains that none of his daughters are biddable, but in fact he takes great pride in them. He and my aunt raised them to be independent thinkers.”
“Good heavens, Mr. Darcy, it almost sounds as if you approve of me!”
“I do.” Ornamental grasses swayed in the gentle breeze, their feathery plumes catching the afternoon light. “You would be a good influence on my sister. She’s on the timid side. I can’t allow her to come out until she grows more self-assured.”
Elizabeth stopped in the shade of a pendulous elm and stared at him. “You think…” Her voice wavered. She began again. “You think I would be a good influence on your sister?”
“Yes,” he said simply. She seemed overset, and he didn’t understand why. “Does that distress you?”
“Not at all.” Her throat worked, and her eyes shone with tears. “That may be the greatest compliment anyone has ever paid me.”
Her emotional reaction surprised him. He knew not how to respond. His thoughts grew muddled.
He’d observed Elizabeth with her family.
She seemed the one most attuned to the needs of the others—especially her younger sisters.
Her father’s good-natured teasing eroded the confidence of Mary and Kitty.
Her mother’s frivolity had turned Lydia almost wild.
Elizabeth, meanwhile, treated her sisters firmly without destroying their spirits.
And suddenly, he could picture her at Pemberley—a sister to Georgiana, a mother to his children. He did not need a noble wife. He was already wealthy, independent, and well connected. Why should he marry for status instead of love?
Elizabeth was exactly the woman he needed. He knew this with certainty. Not only did he desire her—he joyed in her. All the puzzle pieces had come together, and he could see his future clearly.
How should he proceed? Should the courtship remain between the two of them? Or should he speak to her father? Darcy supposed, if he wanted a love match, he should win her heart before involving her family.
He had no doubt she would accept him. She was unlikely to receive another offer as favourable as his. The advantage was on her side—except for her own sweet self. He’d never met another woman who compared to her.
He looked down into her beautiful face, deep emotion still written there. Her eyes glistened, and her cheeks were pink from the autumn air. A lone tear fell onto her creamy skin. He needed to feel her, to touch her…
He pressed his lips to that salty tear, tasting her, breathing her sweet violet scent. She gasped but did not retreat. Her breathing grew ragged as he trailed kisses along her cheekbone and down to the corner of her mouth. He cupped her chin with one gloved hand, and she allowed it.
Then his lips were on hers. They were soft and pliant beneath his own. His hand travelled back to cradle her nape, and she leant in to him. The heat of her body lured him closer. His other arm encircled her waist.
When she did not resist, he deepened the kiss. She opened for him, tasting of mint tea. The heat of desire and possession and something more permanent overwhelmed him.
Their tongues tangled in a sensual dance, teasing and exploring. Though tentative at first, she followed his lead. Her passion matched his own as she suckled his lips and nipped at the corners of his mouth.
She was his. This beautiful creature who fitted so perfectly to him would be his for always. The half-life he’d been living was now full and bountiful and bright.
His ache drove him onward. His mouth found her jawline, the curve of her neck, the hollow behind her ear. Her little moans, her needy little breaths, encouraged his explorations. He wanted all of her, to map every inch of her supple body and make her fully and eternally his own.
But with a sudden cry, she pulled back, breaking from his embrace. The vulnerability in her features faded and was soon replaced with stone. Now the shine in her eyes and the flush on her cheeks spoke a seething anger, and every part of his body went cold.