Chapter 38 In His Kiss
IN HIS KISS
Elizabeth was helped into her seat at the dinner table by her father, observing that Mr Bingley was on her opposite side…
and Jane opposite him. I do not suppose I will need to make any conversation in that direction.
Mr Darcy was seated as far away from her as could be and obscured by an enormous arrangement of flowers.
Dinner passed without incident, and before she knew it, the ladies were withdrawing.
As they walked down the hall to the drawing room, Miss Darcy came abreast of Elizabeth, walking and speaking quickly.
“M-Miss Elizabeth, h-how are you? I have been wishing to spend some time with you ever since I had to leave the dinner at your parents’ home. ”
“Thank you. I hope you are feeling better?”
“I am.” Miss Darcy turned pink and lowered her voice as she said, in a confessional tone, “It was my courses.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“My brother was quite displeased with me. He thought…he said it might have seemed as if I did not wish…” The girl had gone positively scarlet. “I get…quite ill and terrible, terrible migraines. I assure you nothing less could have taken me from the party or made me seem…unfriendly.”
“Oh, no!”
“The days before, I hardly feel like myself and then once it arrives…well, the first day is dreadful, but it passes quickly so that is a mercy. In any case, I would not wish you to think—”
“Miss Darcy! My dear, you must come with me. I have something to show you over there.” Miss Bingley swooped down upon them as soon as they entered the drawing room, nearly shoving Miss Darcy away from Elizabeth.
As they moved away, Miss Darcy shot Elizabeth a kind smile over her shoulder, causing Miss Bingley to hiss at her, none too quietly, “You must think of your own reputation and not allow yourself to be seen speaking to such a woman.”
Elizabeth watched them go, feeling too fatigued by her problems to even take offence at Miss Bingley’s rudeness.
What if I marry Sir James and the gossip still flourishes?
My dignity might be restored, but my reputation will not.
I will forever be the Bennet girl who entrapped a baronet into marriage in her father’s study.
Knowing that none of the ladies in the drawing room were likely to speak to her, Elizabeth moved to sit on an out-of-the-way chair. Jane came to her, looking about for a chair to drag near, but Elizabeth waved her off. “You and Mama ought to discuss your wedding plans,” she said.
Her sister turned pink. “Oh, Lizzy. He said he would never permit such silliness to keep him from me and then—”
“Yes, yes,” Elizabeth said with a laugh. “Tell me all about it later. For now you must go and proclaim your triumph with Mama.”
The gentlemen seemed to take an inordinately long time to return, and the ladies spent the time that they were gone speaking of Elizabeth, first in whispers, then in hushed tones, and after that, in voices that were sufficiently audible to reach Elizabeth’s ears.
Deciding she could endure no more, Elizabeth rose and left the room. As she entered the hall, she heard a burst of masculine laughter coming from the dining room; the men were evidently still deeply engaged in their manly activities.
Taking advantage of her many years roaming free in Lucas Lodge, Elizabeth slipped down the hall to where a small antechamber existed for some purpose no one quite understood. There was nothing in it but a bench, and Elizabeth took a seat, leaning back against the wall and closing her eyes.
Approaching footsteps caused her to open her eyes and sit upright. It was Charlotte. “I thought I might find you here,” she said warmly.
Elizabeth gave a weak smile and a nod.
“I am so glad you came tonight,” she said, taking a seat next to Elizabeth.
Then why is now the first you have spoken to me? “I wish I could say the same,” Elizabeth said mildly.
“I hope no one has been unkind?”
Elizabeth replied to this with a steady gaze.
Charlotte had the good grace to blush. “I suppose it must have been Sir James who began the tales, so that you would have to accept him.”
“Perhaps. I do not think so, but I suppose it is possible.”
“Do not think so? But it was he who stood to gain.” Charlotte glanced round and then leant forwards. “I have no wish to get anyone in trouble, but you know Jennifer? The maid with the exceedingly fair hair.”
“Our maid?” Elizabeth asked with surprise.
Charlotte nodded very soberly. “It was she who brought the tale to Lucas Lodge. She is dear friends with our Pamela, and she was right over, bright and early, to tell her all about trouble at Longbourn.”
Elizabeth paused a moment. No one at Longbourn had known anything about the matter until Kitty and Lydia went into Meryton and visited Mrs Philips.
She was sure if anyone in the household had known before that, they would have brought it to her mother.
Furthermore, although she could not be certain, she believed the maid in question had gone to her ailing mother in the village that night.
Mrs Bennet had been distressed that one of the maids needed a night off when she was having such a large party.
Charlotte’s story did not quite hold water.
“No one at Longbourn heard anything of it until later that day, when it had already been all over Meryton.”
“Perhaps they were speaking of it below stairs without telling any of the family.” Charlotte shrugged.
“Perhaps,” Elizabeth agreed.
Charlotte was in an even stranger temperament than she had been previously.
She nattered on almost wildly, careening from redecorating plans for the parsonage to how Maria wished to go to town to find a husband.
Elizabeth listened as patiently as she could for as long as she could manage it but was vastly relieved when Mr Collins’s heavy footfalls were heard coming towards them.
Elizabeth did not miss the way that Charlotte’s face rearranged itself into looks of dutiful wifeliness as he appeared.
His mouth tightened into a frown when he saw her, but he addressed only his wife. “Mrs Collins, I wondered what became of you.”
Charlotte nodded and rose. “Of course, my dear.” With a few steps she was by his side, slipping her arm into the meaty crook of his. Then did Mr Collins look at his cousin and, with a sad shake of his head, lead his wife away.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. She was grown weary of all of this, the censure they all seemed to think was her due. At once, Darcy’s disdain of all of them did not seem so wholly misplaced.
She decided to leave, to walk home, and after quickly informing a passing maid of her plan, and asking the maid to tell her father, she did. The summer’s dusk had fallen over the countryside as Elizabeth walked outside.
Her eyes found him immediately at the far end of the terrace, well away from doors and windows for interested eyes inside. He was leant upon the balustrade, staring out over the lawn. Keep walking, Lizzy, she told herself even as she quietly approached him.
She took a place beside him, standing as near as she dared, looking out into the falling night, saying nothing. A mad impulse came to her; she wanted to kiss him. Wanted him to kiss her. Wanted to pretend none of this existed, that it was him and her and no one else around them.
You cannot, her mind told her. You are already reviled.
Exactly, she argued back. What have I to lose? Why not behave as accused?
The air between them was tense with longing. She glanced over to see him looking at her, and all reservations fled. She held his gaze for a moment before leaning into him and placing a gentle kiss on his cheek.
After she had kissed his cheek, she intended to move back, but he was quick to pull her to him, locking her into a tight embrace for a hungry, demanding possession of her mouth.
She knew she ought not, but she indulged in it gratefully and greedily, glad to feel for even a moment like she belonged to him, and he to her.
All too quickly, he released her, stepping back and turning away from her, running his hands through his hair, and breathing heavily.
“You did not accept him.”
She laughed a bit shakily. “No matter what they say of me, I could not kiss a man like that while being betrothed to another.”
She hated the look of hope that flashed across his countenance. Quickly she added, “He did not come to Longbourn today, but I fear it is a stay of execution and no more. My father means to make me accept him, to restore our family’s name. Nothing else will do, it seems.”
“Saye and I spent a great deal of time today trying to learn the source of the gossip, who began it.” Darcy paused a moment and said, “It seems much of it can be traced back to this house.”
Elizabeth shook her head even as Charlotte’s peculiarity crossed her mind. “Think nothing of that. The Lucases always go visiting and spreading gossip as they go.”
“Georgiana has assured me that she had absolutely nothing to do with any of it.”
“Did you think she might have?” Elizabeth asked, turning to look at him.
He shrugged. “She was behaving very oddly that night and insisted she was ill but seemed perfectly well to me.”
“Oh.” Elizabeth chuckled a little. “No, she was unwell. She spoke to me of it as one would to another lady…but perhaps not a brother.”
He exhaled noisily and stared out at nothing. “I cannot bear the thought that I might lose you forever.”
“I wish…wish that—”
“When is your birthday?” he asked suddenly.
Surprised, she drew back. “The thirtieth of May.”
“You are twenty-one, then. Good.”
“To come of age means very little as a woman of no fortune.”
“It means you can marry without your father’s permission.” He took her hands in his. “One word, Elizabeth. One word is all I need. Forget the rumours, forget the gossip. Allow me to take you away. Trust that my love is larger than any of this.”
She pulled away from him. No matter how much she wanted him, or he wanted her, he did not deserve to be pulled into her disaster.
“Did you not see how it was in there? I am scorned and reviled by the very people who have known me all my life. How much worse will it be among the ton, or even your own family?”
“I will protect you from that.” Darcy had moved quietly to stand behind her and bent to place one gentle kiss on her neck. He whispered softly in her ear, “Do you love me?”
“Please do not ask me that,” she whispered.
“I must insist. Tell me now—do you love me?” His hands drifted slowly up and down her upper arms, a feeling both soothing and exhilarating. Gently, he took her by her shoulders and turned her so she faced him. “Do you? Tell me.”
Surely, he could see her love, see the evidence of how much she cared for him written all over her face?
“It can only hurt you if I say I love you and then marry another man,” she whispered.
“Tell me,” Darcy demanded with quiet urgency. “Please.”
“Elizabeth.” Her father’s voice, stern and unyielding, came from the door.
She jumped and pulled away from Darcy, looking guiltily at her father. “Papa! Oh! Um…I—”
“Come with me now,” said Mr Bennet.
“Mr Bennet,” said Darcy, stepping forwards. “I hope you will excuse Elizabeth. I—”
“Elizabeth, is it?” Mr Bennet walked to his daughter.
“I believe, young man, that I made my feelings to you known. Elizabeth will be formally betrothed at the earliest hour they will receive us at Ashworth. I shall thank you to honour that, and honour me, by taking your attentions elsewhere. They are not wanted here.” So saying, he put a firm hand on his daughter’s arm and very nearly shoved her towards the door.
She had only a second or so to glance back at Darcy and mouth the words he wished to hear. ‘I love you.’