Chapter 5
A tumult of emotions washed over Lizzy. What had she done? How had she allowed that kiss to happen?
When Darcy’s lips had first pressed to hers, her senses had filled with him: the scent of sandalwood, the touch of soft leather, the taste of spice and man. She melted into him, and he let out a soft groan.
The sound of his pleasure intoxicated her, and she lost herself in it.
She’d never imagined a man like him could want her.
She’d been deluding herself all this time, refusing to acknowledge her attraction to him.
Yes, he was proud, but he was also kind.
He’d repeatedly proven himself so, ever since she’d first arrived at Netherfield.
His lips were softer than she’d thought a man’s could be. He teased and explored, thrilling her like nothing before. There was desire in his kisses, but sweetness, too. He gave and he took, but gently, without demand.
She never wanted the moment to end. Encircled in his arms, she felt cradled and protected. His chest beneath her hands was firm and well-muscled. Her soft curves moulded to his hard planes, as if they were made for this embrace.
Then, a sudden dread had washed over her. She stepped back and stared at him. A man with Darcy’s background couldn’t have honourable intentions towards her.
He’d said himself, he was one of the wealthiest men in England. A country squire’s daughter with a paltry dowry and no connections could be of no real interest to him.
So why had he kissed her? Had he planned this? Had he led her away from the house alone so he could take advantage of her? Did he think her a provincial miss who wouldn’t know better?
Readjusting her dress and bonnet, she said, “Mr. Darcy, we forget ourselves. Perhaps the sophisticated ladies of London allow such liberties, but here in the country, we don’t. There could be no future for us, and I don’t engage in dalliance.”
“Miss Bennet, I assure you—”
“Please.” She held up her hand to halt his protests. “This was a terrible mistake. It must not be repeated. I ask that you don’t approach me again during my stay at Netherfield. I’ll be gone soon enough.”
She turned and hurried towards the house. She worried he would follow, but she ought not to have bothered. No footsteps sounded behind her, no voice called after her, no hand grabbed her arm to stop her from walking away.
Tears filled her eyes, and she could hardly see her way forward. She found a side entrance and ascended to her room. Closing the door, she leant back against it and slid down to the floor.
She refused to weep for him. He didn’t deserve her tears. He’d used her abominably, but she wouldn’t be fooled again. She was prepared now for his advances, and would be ready to deflect them.
She took out a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. They felt swollen, and her head ached. Still, she wanted to check on Jane. So she rose, washed her face, and forced herself to smile.
She found Jane reading a book Bingley had sent up that morning. Jane blushed and looked at Lizzy with sparkling eyes. Her sister’s happiness lightened some of the weight in Lizzy’s chest, turning it from a sharp pain to a dull ache.
“I want to discuss something with you,” Lizzy said. “Something serious.”
“What is it?” Jane asked, expression turning grave.
Lizzy sat on the bed and related what Darcy had said about Wickham. “I suppose we must take his warning seriously, even though I don’t entirely trust Mr. Darcy.”
Jane eyed her warily. “I know we have reason to think Mr. Darcy a proud, disagreeable man. But I can hardly believe Mr. Bingley would be friends with him if he were dishonourable.”
“Mr. Bingley may not know everything about him.”
Jane’s brow knitted in concern. “Do you have reason to distrust him?”
Lizzy hesitated. She and Jane didn’t keep secrets from one another. Now was no time to start. “Earlier today, Mr. Darcy kissed me.”
Jane’s face filled with shock. “He forced his advances on you?”
Lizzy shook her head. “No. I was caught off guard, but I did not resist.”
Jane scowled. “Do you not dislike the man?”
“During my stay here at Netherfield, I’ve seen another side of him—a kinder side. We were becoming friends. But the kiss... I can’t imagine what he meant by it. Surely he can have no serious intentions towards me. My dowry and connections are nothing to a man of his means.”
“Then perhaps he truly likes you. Perhaps he’s falling in love.”
The suggestion seemed preposterous. Darcy knew his worth, and Lizzy didn’t measure up. Unlike Jane, she was no heiress.
Upon the birth of his fourth daughter, Mr. Bennet had realised he would have to set aside funds for his girls’ dowries. He sold some property and invested the money wisely. By the time his daughters reached marriageable age, it had grown to a tidy sum.
Jane required a husband who would responsibly oversee the Longbourn estate. For that reason, her dowry was double the amount of her sisters’. The other girls might seek a husband with a profession, or perhaps a prosperous merchant.
Lizzy’s twenty-five hundred pounds was sufficient to attract a respectable man. It would ensure she had adequate pin money during her marriage and a modest jointure if she was widowed. But it wouldn’t tempt one of the wealthiest men in England.
Darcy’s kiss had been more tender than insistent. Perhaps he’d had no ill intent. His kiss, like her response, might have been unpremeditated—the work of a moment.
But she couldn’t believe he’d acted out of love. She couldn’t allow herself to hope for something so far beyond her reach. A friendship between them was impossible now. After the intimacy they’d shared, her feelings for him were far from friendly.
∞∞∞
After Elizabeth returned to the house, Darcy struggled to put his thoughts in order. He trudged along the paths that led through the woodland. Ominous grey clouds gathered overhead.
Elizabeth was right—he’d lost control. The kiss had been too forward. Her anger was justified. But why had she refused to let him explain?
He should have gone after her. The kiss hadn’t been dalliance. He needed her to know that.
But a gentleman respected a lady’s wishes. She’d asked him to keep his distance. Darcy must find a way to communicate with her, without making the situation worse.
He’d been certain she would be flattered by his attentions. What arrogance! Now he would have to humble himself, to prove that he cherished her as she deserved.
He would speak to her after dinner. Surely she wouldn’t mind if he approached her in the drawing room with others present.
So he took special care dressing for dinner that evening. His valet shaved him again, using the sandalwood soap procured from a shop near Pemberley. Darcy preferred it to anything he could get in London.
In a freshly starched cravat and a striped waistcoat woven through with gold thread, he descended to dinner. Hope bloomed in his heart. Elizabeth was too well-bred to be uncivil during the meal.
But still, she thwarted him. She took her dinner on a tray in Jane’s room, and didn’t join them in the drawing room later that evening.
Frustration prickled under his skin. As the Bingleys and Hursts sat playing whist, Darcy sipped a brandy and pretended to read. In fact, he was planning a strategy.
Things were worse than he’d thought. Elizabeth Bennet was a force to be reckoned with. She wouldn’t be easily won. But then, nothing worth having ever was.
She didn’t trust him. She thought he was the type of man who would disrespect a young lady. Somehow, he would have to turn those feelings around.
In the darkness of his bedroom, he lay awake wondering how to prove himself to her. If he spoke to her father, it might reassure her that his intentions were honourable. Yet it would also show a disregard for her wishes. If he wanted to win her, then he must direct his efforts towards her.
After a restless sleep, he went riding at dawn. The cool morning air, the sound of hoofbeats, the sunshine burning the mists from the field helped him think. He would force her to listen to him before she returned to Longbourn. He couldn’t let the situation fester.
Heading towards the house to dress for breakfast, he spotted Bingley in the garden accompanied by the Bennet sisters. This was Darcy’s chance. He would rather have changed clothes first, but opportunity had struck. He would not let it pass.
“Darcy!” Bingley cried as he approached. “Have you been riding? What a beautiful morning it is!”
His friend’s exuberance lifted Darcy’s mood. “It is indeed. The clouds have left at last.” He turned to Jane. “Miss Bennet, it’s good to see you out and about. I hope that means you’re feeling better?”
“Much better, thank you, sir. Not completely recovered, but well enough to return to Longbourn.”
“I’m delighted that you’re so well.” He looked towards her sister. “Miss Elizabeth, how lovely you look. Morning walks seem to agree with you.”
Elizabeth’s expression turned wary at the compliment. She merely offered a curtsey and a word of thanks.
The gravel path was wide enough to walk three side-by-side, but not four. With Jane holding on to Bingley’s arm, they walked ahead. Darcy and Elizabeth fell in behind them.
To reassure her, Darcy kept a distance between them. He adopted a slow pace so they could speak privately.
“Please, Miss Bennet, allow me to express my deep regret for my actions yesterday. I meant no offence. With a word from you, I’ll approach your father and offer for your hand.”
She let out a mirthless laugh. “Over a kiss? I’m not as desperate as that.”
At the sound of her words, all breath left his body. He’d expected…well, not gratitude, exactly, but certainly not disdain.
She continued, “The only thing that will entice me to marry is an abiding love. You and I would not suit.”
That sentiment stung even more. He hadn’t wanted an engagement this soon—but he thought she would let him court her.