Chapter 3 #2
At least that was what she had said at the beginning of their encounter.
But then, she seemed to change her opinion somehow, enough to carry on a pleasant conversation.
She appeared comfortable enough as they spoke of their sisters.
He did not remember having such a lovely, genuine, private conversation with another woman before.
He had been in women’s intimate company many times, but he had never felt as delighted as he was with Elizabeth’s nearness.
She had shared a glass of wine with him.
Her fingers touched his for an instant and it was more arousing than any caress he had experienced before.
Her lips looked soft and moist and were probably more tasty and intoxicating than the liqueur.
The prospect of kissing and savouring them was very far and very close at the same time.
If Bingley had arrived with several other servants, had they been caught, all his considerations about the inferiority of her connections and her family’s lack of decorum, his self-imposed restraint, the demands of duty–everything would be useless and meaningless.
He would have had to propose to her and she would have been forced to marry him.
Forced. She would have dreaded that notion–she told him as much.
But, just as she slowly accepted his company in the library, she might learn to enjoy his presence in the years to come.
And he could spend every day and every night in her company, and would have the right to stroke her hair, to caress her, to taste her lips…
Troubled, he hurried to wash his face, struggling to cast aside such tormenting thoughts. Tired and exhausted, he looked for the comfort of his bed, but the soft sheets only made him recollect Elizabeth’s skin, revealed by the thin fabric.
He declared himself defeated; nothing would be the same after that night–neither in his mind nor in his heart.
He put another log on the fire, then returned to the bed. His coat–that still bore Elizabeth’s scent–lay on the pillow near him. It was the closest he would ever be to her.
∞∞∞
For Elizabeth, the night was no more soothing, nor more restful.
Once she returned to the chamber she shared with Jane, she had to relate to her sister everything that had happened.
While Jane tried to fall asleep again, she remained alert, listening to the storm.
But more than the roar of the wind, what kept her awake were strange sensations and disturbing memories of the last few hours, along with vivid recollections of all sorts of small details regarding Darcy.
His voice, his expression, his gestures, his words, his gazes, his gentleness–everything was completely different from what she had previously observed.
During their short interlude, she had discovered another man, hidden behind the haughty, disdainful gentleman that everybody hated.
A man whose company she enjoyed very much and left her wanting to learn more, to discover more, to enjoy more about him.
“Lizzy, I hope Mr. Darcy was not too harsh or too rude to you,” Jane whispered sleepily. “I imagine he was upset that you locked you both in the library.”
“He was upset, but he was as kind and as friendly as can be expected.”
“I am glad to hear that…”
“Yes, I am glad too. Now let us sleep, you need rest. I want to return home as soon as possible,” Elizabeth concluded, embracing her sister.
Despite her own advice, Elizabeth needed more time to consider her tormenting thoughts before she followed her sister into dream land. And even there, she met Mr. Darcy again.
The following morning, the eldest Miss Bennet felt well enough to join the family at breakfast. When they arrived, the others were already gathered around the table.
Bingley’s sisters greeted Jane with insincere joy and feigned concern.
But the gentleman’s care was so obviously genuine, that Elizabeth’s heart melted.
Elizabeth dared to glance at Darcy but only for a moment.
His attention was on his plate and, except a polite greeting and a brief enquiry regarding Jane’s health, he remained silent.
After thinking of him the entire night, after so much nervousness over what had occurred in the library, Elizabeth felt somehow disappointed to see him as his usual self.
Then she became angry with herself–what on earth did she expect?
“Mr. Bingley, would you be so kind as to send a note to my father at Longbourn? We would like to ask for the carriage so we can return home,” Jane said, with a small smile. Bingley lost himself in her eyes.
“Of course! But are you certain you are well enough to leave?” he enquired, with an apparent desire to prolong her stay.
“Very much so,” Jane declared. “But I thank you for your care, sir.”
“It is my pleasure, I assure you. In fact–if you truly wish to return home, I would be happy to take you both to Longbourn. In my carriage.”
Jane’s cheeks flushed. “That would be very generous of you. We would be truly grateful.”
“Then it is settled,” Bingley responded joyfully.
“It is still raining and the storm lasted all night. You should be careful on the road,” Darcy spoke to no one in particular.
He was still looking mostly at his food, but the mere mention of the storm and the previous night made Elizabeth blush.
Slightly distressed, she dropped her knife against her plate as all pairs of eyes turned to her.
“I apologise,” she said, fighting against an unexpected uneasiness.
What was happening to her? She had been in these people’s company for days now and surely none of them had ever intimidated her before.
She was astonished by her own reaction and her clumsiness, as well as by the strange nervousness that was troubling her.
“Miss Eliza, are you well?” Miss Bingley asked. “You are more silent than usual and you have not interjected in any discussion all morning. This is quite unexpected of you!”
“I am very well; I might be more silent, as I have nothing special to add to the conversation and I did not wish to disturb your meal. I was unaware that you expected me to say anything at all,” Elizabeth responded.
“Well, we have become accustomed to hearing your opinion quite often; and most of the time in opposition to ours,” Caroline continued. Jane blushed, as she noticed the offence to her sister.
“It is admirable when a young woman possesses enough knowledge and wit to sustain a personal point of view or belief, against the majority,” Darcy suddenly intervened.
His blunt support silenced the others, and they looked at him in surprise. Elizabeth finally met his gaze briefly, but his dark eyes and stern countenance remained unchanged.
“So you find stubbornness and the tendency to oppose general convictions an appealing trait in a woman? This is quite singular, I must say,” Mr. Hurst asserted.
“I find the tendency of some women to agree with anything that is fashionable, either for lack of education, or strength, or will – quite boring and unappealing,” Darcy responded coldly.
“I must say that I like obedient and dutiful women much more than the opposite,” Hurst concluded.
“I am surprised to hear that, as I would by no means call my sister Louisa obedient and dutiful. Nor Caroline, come to that,” Bingley declared with a laugh.
“Charles!” Mrs. Hurst scolded him.
“Come now–surely we all know that I am right.”
“Well, I do agree with you,” Caroline replied with contentment.
“I confess I am often headstrong and I enjoy expressing my opinions. I am glad there are gentlemen like Mr. Darcy, who appreciate the power of an opinionated woman!” Caroline looked at Darcy with such gratification, that he returned the look with a dumbfounded countenance.
Elizabeth’s amusement finally dissipated her nervousness and she released a peal of laughter, quickly concealed with a bite from a biscuit.
Darcy chose not to say much more. The notion that Caroline Bingley had taken his words as a sign of his admiration for her, was disconcerting.
He exchanged a few brief glances with Elizabeth, but neither of them was yet at ease with the recollection of the previous night and neither knew how to behave with the other, although both felt that their acquaintance had been changed and enhanced.
The news that Elizabeth was to return to Longbourn was not a surprise, nor a reason for disappointment.
Her staying at Netherfield was tormenting for him, and his decisions related to Elizabeth were even more uncertain.
He had admitted to himself that he admired and desired her and he knew he would long for her when she left Netherfield.
But he remained resolute in not seeing any future growth of their connection.
His mind was trapped by his sense of duty, and the demands of society silenced the voice of his heart, which was beating louder and louder in Elizabeth’s favour.
Later in the afternoon, the guests returned home in Bingley’s carriage and company. Darcy was tempted to join them but resisted stoically.
When the goodbyes were said, his resolution weakened as he conveyed to the Misses Bennet his best wishes.
“Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, would you allow me to join Bingley the next time he calls at Longbourn?” he asked. Elizabeth looked at him with her lips parted in astonishment, and he found himself staring at her half-open mouth.
“It would be a great pleasure for us and for our parents, I assure you,” Jane replied.
“Indeed,” Elizabeth added, smiling. “It is true that everybody likes Mr. Bingley, but your presence will be equally welcomed,” she said, her eyes locking with his.
She was daring, even impertinent, to mention in public a part of their conversation from the previous night. He had every reason to be displeased and she knew she should be ashamed.
But his own wide smile put her at ease.
“I am glad and relieved to hear that, Miss Elizabeth. Then I shall see you at Longbourn soon.”
“We are counting on it, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied, a moment before she left. But he still had time to observe her sparkling eyes and crimson cheeks. He remained at the window, gazing at the moving carriage, while Bingley’s sisters expressed their joy to finally be alone with just the family.