Chapter 1 #6
Miss Darcy giggled, her eyes wide. “Oh no, my brother always speaks the absolute truth!” she claimed before she began leafing through the music.
Elizabeth glanced at Mr Darcy, who wore a smile of satisfaction, and observed Miss Bingley latching onto his arm with a triumphant smile—probably congratulating herself on her superior charm, expert manoeuvring, and pompous blandishments.
Elizabeth turned to Miss Darcy and left the badinage to Miss Bingley whilst affecting the utmost indifference to whatever passed between her and the gentleman.
Instead, she put her efforts into the modulation of her full-toned voice and sang two pieces, accompanied by Miss Darcy’s impeccable and spirited touch, before entreating Miss Bingley to exhibit.
The evening drew to a close, and Mr Darcy himself escorted Elizabeth to the carriage. He bowed low over her hand, brought it to his lips for a kiss, and whispered for her alone, “You have besieged the citadel of my heart,” before turning swiftly and taking the steps two at a time.
Dazed, Elizabeth watched his ascent. At the top, he turned to look back at her, and the smile that erupted on his countenance gave her the sensation of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.
Belatedly, she noticed her hand still hovered in the air where he had left it.
She must be infatuated, or she would surely not have lost her wits in such a way!
Elizabeth decided to nip the bloom in the bud, extinguish the kindling flame in her heart, and kept her resolution very creditably until her next encounter with the gentleman.
As it would turn out, a heart was not so easily deterred…
A fortnight later, after numerous encounters with a certain gentleman.
“A penny for your thoughts?”
Elizabeth was staring into the faint red glow of the neglected fire, caught in a moment of wool gathering. She thought he had left, after escorting the ladies from the carriage into the comfort of Limerick House.
“You are excessively impertinent, Mr Darcy.”
She would never reveal her thoughts, especially not to the gentleman standing so unnervingly close.
Her nerves were already too excited after a night in the gentleman’s box, at his invitation, at the opera.
Mr Darcy’s distinguished personage had proved to be highly sought after.
Both gentlemen and ladies vied for his approbation, but the latter accosted him perpetually with their simpering, coquettish amorous trifles.
“Not at all—too pertinent, you mean.”
Elizabeth pressed her lips together to quash her smile.
“I shall interpret your silence as confirmation and declare that I was the subject of your reveries.”
“Indeed, sir.”
“I implore you not to wound me with your denial and condemn me to wretchedness. Amongst the garish peonies of London, you are like a sweet, dew-covered wild rosebud.”
“Is that meant to be a compliment, sir?”
“Does it give you pleasure?”
“Perhaps I may forgive your initial reckless slight of me, be ashamed of the pettish resentment I have felt, discharge the pangs gnawing at my heart, and admit that I feel delighted.”
Mr Darcy caught her hand and brought it to his lips, the expression in his eyes speaking louder than a thousand words.
At that moment, her grandmother opened the door and entered with a candle in her hand.
Whatever Mr Darcy had intended to say in reply died on his lips.
Elizabeth dearly wished her grandmother could have delayed her entrance a mere moment longer, yet she burst out laughing, in tumultuous exhilaration of excessive feelings.
Mr Darcy bid them good evening, and her grandmother recommended she retire with a gentle kiss on her forehead. She was, undoubtedly, falling head over heels in love with Mr Darcy.
“You should count your blessings that it was me and not your mother who walked in on you just now, or you would certainly have been deciding upon your wedding date.”
Elizabeth was basking in the delightful consciousness of requited love and answered flippantly, “I may not have minded.”
“I am glad you have realised what has been apparent to me since the Netherfield ball and has since only been strengthened with each event we have attended with the gentleman in town. His admiring eyes follow you quite devotedly.”
Elizabeth bid her grandmother good-night and calmly met a tired nature’s sweet restorer. She awoke intensely happy the next morning, basking in the bright effulgence of hope.
With her energy completely restored, she was anxious to walk off some of its excess, and Hyde Park was in convenient proximity to Limerick House. She took with her the most fresh-faced footman and wrapped herself up warmly to stave off the icy chill of the February air.
At a distance, a gentleman of familiar form leant nonchalantly upon Grosvenor Gate.
“Mr Darcy,” Elizabeth greeted. “I hope you have not been standing here supporting the gate for very long. Will it hold if deprived of your muscular power?”
“No, not too long, Miss Elizabeth. Would you allow me to escort you on your morning promenade?”
Elizabeth smiled and laced her hand around his proffered arm. The park was quiet this early in the morning, even along the fashionable Serpentine path. Her footman kept an unobtrusive distance, and there was no one about but for a few servants walking their mistresses’ pugs.
Elizabeth sighed in contentment. She could get used to the pleasure of an early morning stroll in the company of Mr Darcy. He seemed to know when words were unnecessary. She glanced up at his noble profile. He had a fresh, healthy glow in his complexion and a tint of pink from the cold.
“So, do you often loiter round the gates of Hyde Park, Mr Darcy?”
“That depends, so the answer is both yes and no. No, I have not in the past, but yes, I am of a mind to continue this new habit for as long as I have the pleasure of your company.”
“I wonder why… My beauty you early withstood—it must be my civility. I have flattered you and shown you every deference an illustrious gentleman could possibly desire.”
“Which would have been officious indeed had you truly meant a single word of your lyrical blandishments.”
“Are you not to believe a word I say?”
“I believed you when you called me arrogant, conceited, and disdainful of the feelings of others.”
“Oh dear… You heard that? Please do not repeat what I said then. These recollections will not do at all. Instead, I shall declare us too alike in one respect. We are both prone to eavesdropping.”
“You just called me dear. I heard that.”
“As you should.” Elizabeth smiled, but a change of subject was preferable lest she lose her brashness for making such a flagrant statement. “I very much enjoyed the Royal Menagerie and the opera, but I am looking forward with pleasure to our excursion to the museum. It is my favourite diversion.”
“It is mine too. I suppose that is something else we have in common.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, it is my second favourite.”
“And what would be your absolute favourite?”
“That would be anywhere I can find you under a twig mistletoe.”
Elizabeth squeezed his arm in acknowledgement, and they continued for a stretch in silence.
In a light unclouded by vexation, Mr Darcy was exactly the kind of man, in disposition, attractive points, and desirable qualifications, who suited her the most. The difference in their understanding and temper would benefit them both, especially her ease and liveliness in society and his judgment and knowledge of the world.
Mr Darcy had seemed bent upon displaying her to his acquaintances on every possible occasion, and to greatest advantage in particular at last night’s opera.
It was something to be considered a worthy object of his pride.
Especially amongst the painted butterflies of the ton, who were sparkling in costly jewels.
She scarcely dared to merit the praise he heaped upon her; in comparison to most ladies of superior society, her appearance must be plain and sober.
Yet, Mr Darcy professed to have found numerous virtues and perfections that Elizabeth feared less-partial eyes would have failed to distinguish.
But far be it from her to dissuade him from expounding upon her good qualities.
Was that not the very essence of falling in love?
Their morning stroll soon became customary.
Sometimes in quietude, other times in fervent discussions about politics and literature or agreement about a particularly enjoyable musicale they had both attended.
Yet, he seemed unwilling to come to the point and ask her the question she most longed to hear.
But, of course, he may have a reasonable excuse…
After escorting her to the door, she had not been long returned before Mr Darcy and Miss Darcy were announced as their first morning callers.
Offering her a generous bouquet of red roses, the gentleman left his sister in her care, stating that he had business with Mr Bennet.
She barely had time to express her acquiescence to the arrangement before he quit the room in eager strides.
Elizabeth was immediately made uneasy. What could Mr Darcy have to speak to her father about?
If he had designs on her, she would have preferred to be asked before the rest of the family was apprised.
Or rather, had the opportunity to warn her father and inform him of her altered opinion of the gentleman.
Elizabeth was rather apprehensive when he finally returned.
“My sister and I wish to invite you on an excursion on the fourteenth of February. I have discussed our destination with Mr Bennet, and he has allowed you to accompany us, if you wish it. Unfortunately, there will be no room for anyone else, or I would have extended the invitation to include Miss Bennet. In her stead, Mrs Annesley will be present as chaperon.”
“Am I to be informed of what kind of excursion?”
“No, you are not. That, dearest Elizabeth, I am not prepared to tell you,” Mr Darcy said with an amused glint in his eyes, seemingly unaware of the missing title in his address. “It will be a surprise, but I urge you to dress warmly.”
Miss Darcy smiled in a hitherto unrivalled show of exuberance. “I am all anticipation. My brother has been talking about little else for months. He ordered the tickets even before he travelled to Netherfield.”
“Then you must enlighten me so that I can participate in the enthusiasm.”
“Oh no, my lips are sealed.” Miss Darcy beamed. “I promised my brother I would not divulge our destination.”
Elizabeth had a feeling that a promise between the brother and sister was as good as the law and refrained from prying any further.
It added a certain quality to not know, and it allowed her imagination to run wild.
A glance at Mr Darcy revealed him pursing his lips in an attempt to curb the threat of a smile.
His cobalt-blue eyes were twinkling with mirth.
What ever could he have planned? Mr Darcy spoke with good-humoured ease for the rest of the visit—so distant from the accent of hauteur and disdain he had exhibited upon their earliest acquaintance—and stayed well beyond the appointed half an hour.
Valentine’s Day
Mr Darcy lifted his tall sister with such ease that Elizabeth could not help but admire his strength and the stretch of his white pantaloons.
“May I offer you the same service as my sister?”
Elizabeth sucked in her breath, regarded the basket of the hot-air balloon, and quickly concluded that there was no other way to enter.
“You may,” she allowed with heat rising in her face.
Mr Darcy lay an arm around her shoulders and bent to put the other behind her knees. In a swift motion, she was resting in his embrace, close enough to feel his breath upon her cheek. Her heart pounded in her chest as his chin grazed her forehead with the lightest touch of stubble.
All too soon, she was standing in the basket, and she stepped back to allow room for Mr Darcy.
“Will you comfort my sister if she is frightened?”
He obviously did not consider that she might be intimidated herself. The thought did not vex her but rather boosted her pride in a most unbecoming manner, and she fought the tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“I am certain the comfort of a dear brother must prevail over that of a friend.”
“Sorry, miss. Ain’t room for more than two passengers. The weight would be too ’eavy for the balloon,” the driver chirped.
Mr Darcy tilted his head and held her gaze. “Have I told you before that your eyes are full of soul? Large, clear, and the deepest of emerald-green, that turns almost black when you are vexed at me.”
“But…” Elizabeth started before she lost herself in a tangle of unintelligible stutters. Blowing out a breath of frustration, she collected herself well enough to utter a full sentence. “Then I must leave and let Mr Darcy take my place.”
“Absolutely not!” Mr Darcy exclaimed. “Release the balloon,” he ordered the man handling the ropes.
“But to give up such a novelty, the aspiration of every gentleman,” Elizabeth protested. “I cannot deprive you of an experience you so dearly wished to participate in!”
“I find that I shall enjoy the journey much better from where I stand.”
The release of the gas roared in her ears, and the balloon began its ascent.
She clutched onto the railing to steady herself.
Her eyes locked with Mr Darcy’s. A slow smile transformed his handsome countenance from a gentleman of haughty composure to a beau of considerable charm.
That he would rob himself of the novel experience for her sake was enlightening.
He was the kind of man who would give every consideration to his dependents and stop at nothing for those he loved.
Charlotte had been right; it was not necessary to discover all your future husband’s flaws if you knew enough about his goodness…
“You must remember to enjoy the view!” he shouted over the din.
“I am!” she called back, still looking at his handsome countenance. How adorable he appeared when he laughed, and how warmly her heart cleaved to him.
“Marry me, my funny Valentine!”
Elizabeth forgot to breathe. The crowd cheered, and any reply would be futile to even attempt. She prised her gloved fingers off the railing, touched her lips, and blew him a kiss. Mr Darcy made a show of catching it and placed it over his heart.
The End