Chapter 13
Never had a night been so long for Elizabeth nor had she wished for the dawn with more eagerness.
She barely slept, and yet she felt rested; she stared out the open window, looking at the stars and allowing the summer night breeze to caress her face.
It was late August and autumn was near—almost a year since she had met him.
How early should I go? Surely, I cannot presume him to be there at dawn.
He cannot be as silly as I am to remain awake the entire night.
After an hour, Elizabeth’s patience evaded her.
She observed the clock; it was four in the morning.
She hurriedly dressed herself, put in two hairpins to keep her locks straight and then covered them with her bonnet.
She walked carefully through the trees; she was alone—only herself and her thoughts.
Her heart nearly stopped when she heard steps moving closer and the sound of a horse; she remained still, not certain whether she should hide or simply return to the house as Longbourn was still in view. She had no time to do either, as the man appeared before her, and she gasped in surprise.
In two quick steps he was in front of her, his hands cupping her face as their eyes met.
“Elizabeth, what are you doing here at this hour?”
Her heart raced wildly, and she struggled to breathe normally again. She barely managed to speak.
“I could ask you the same question, sir…William…”
He did not answer; in utter silence, his fingers tentatively explored her face from her cheeks up to her eyes, her temples, her forehead, and then lowered again to trace the line of her jaw, brushing against her throat before returning toward her cheeks as his thumbs, as gently as a breeze, caressed her lips.
His eyes followed his fingers and remained fixed on her mouth.
Instinctively, her hands encircled his waist searching for support.
“It is not safe for you to be here at this hour, Elizabeth. It is almost the middle of the night.”
“I could not sleep; it is safe now that you are here.” She tried to smile. “But why are you here, sir? This is not where we were supposed to meet.”
His dark gaze and gentle thumbs were still caressing her mouth, now half-open as she spoke.
“I could not sleep either. I just wanted to look at your house and to wait for you…”
His head lowered toward hers, and she stopped breathing, waiting to feel the delicious touch of his kiss. His lips tenderly pressed over each of her eyes then he pulled her to his chest and held her tightly.
“Come.” He put one arm around her shoulders and, with the other, took the horse’s reins.
Within a quarter hour, they reached the grove where they had met previously. Darcy bound his horse to a tree and then pulled a packet from behind his saddle. She looked at him in wonder and then started to laugh when he undid the packet and a blanket appeared.
Skilfully, he laid the blanket under a tree; Elizabeth laughed even harder. “It appears, sir, that you are well prepared.”
He smiled, obviously satisfied with her reaction. “Shall we?” he invited her to sit.
He sat near her, his back against the tree.
She blushed and was grateful it was still dark so he could not see her flushed cheeks.
He was close, and they were both sitting on the blanket upon the grass, shockingly and improperly intimate.
She expected any moment he would take her in his arms; but he only took her hands in his and pulled them to his lips.
“I cannot believe you are here with me, Elizabeth. I am still afraid something will happen…or that I will say or do something to make you leave again.”
“I shall never leave you again. There is nothing possible you could do or say to make me leave.”
“I have said so many inconsiderate things in the past, Elizabeth, that —
She would listen to him no longer or bear the painful need of feeling his kisses.
Her hand daringly touched his face as her lips pressed against his mouth, silencing him.
He was surprised and remained still for a moment, and she dared not move her lips at all, only pressed them against his.
Then his left arm encircled her shoulder, while his right hand slid along her cheek and her ear, entering her silky hair.
The hairpins fell out immediately, and her locks covered his fingers.
His mouth remained passive only for an instant, and then it trapped her lips, tentatively, gently at first, and then tenderly but daringly, as though possessed by a thirst only she could quench.
She gasped and froze momentarily when she felt his tongue tasting and caressing her lips and then slipping inside, taking possession of her mouth.
As if in a dream, she felt his fingers untying her bonnet and pushing it aside, finding their way into her hair while their bodies moved together lower and lower until they were both reclined upon the blanket, never ceasing their passionate kisses.
Elizabeth did not realise what was happening except that his body moved closer, and his scent made her dizzy; she could barely breathe, but it was all right; she did not want her lips to be free from his nor did she want him to withdraw from her.
His mouth left hers for a moment and his lips traced countless small kisses over her face before returning to her mouth again.
Then they lowered to the line of her jaw and caressed her throat softly; she moaned as her hands held him tighter.
He covered her moans with another kiss, and she was grateful; she already missed his lips!
His fingers brushed her arm then slipped around her waist and travelled upward along her ribs until his hand reached and rested upon the place where her heart was beating. She gasped loudly and stiffened.
In a moment Darcy stopped, and only then did they both realise he was almost covering her with his weight.
His first reaction was a deep worry that he had gone dangerously too far, taking advantage of her confusion.
He might have gone even further. He instantly realised his hand was cupping her breast and withdrew it instantly, leaning away from her to free her body.
He tried to regain his normal breathing enough to be able to beg for her forgiveness and, while doing that, dared to meet her eyes.
Her face was flushed, and she was breathing with difficulty.
Her lips were swollen, red and moist from his kisses while her hair, in great disorder, was spread around her and a few locks were resting on the soft, creamy skin of her neck.
Her eyes were darker than usual and sparkling with a passion he had never seen in them before.
“Elizabeth…please forgive me if I frightened you. I know what I did was highly improper and—
“You did not frighten me. I was a little frightened, but not by what you did, rather by what I did and what I felt. Never before—
Darcy smiled at her, and his fingers again caressed her face; he lowered his head and placed a soft kiss on her swollen lips.
He rose to sit and pulled her with him, quite unceremoniously.
She laughed as she almost fell. He embraced her tenderly, his back against the tree, holding her against his chest. His arm encircled her shoulders again, and his right hand took both her hands in his.
She relaxed and calmed herself, her passion replaced by comfort and safety.
“Elizabeth, I know I should apologise for kissing you so, but I cannot say I am sorry for doing it. I do not regret it—not for a moment. I have longed for, dreamed of and desired for so long to kiss you, to hold you. But I do regret that my eagerness perhaps made me too intense in my expression. I would not have you be afraid of me, Elizabeth. I shall never do anything that you would not wish for; I hope you know that.”
“I do know that, William, and I thank you for not apologising, because I felt you did not regret it…any more than I did. I was the one who kissed you first,” she admitted, her embarrassment obvious.
“Yes you did, but I doubt you expected my response to be so…unrestrained.” He smiled.
“Well, perhaps you are not as restrained as you used to consider yourself to be.” She laughed back.
“No, I am not—certainly not when I am with you. Do you remember an evening at Lucas Lodge when you refused to dance with me?”
She was a little surprised at the sudden change of topic. “Yes, I do, sir.”
“That evening while we talked, I felt such an urge to kiss you right there in the middle of the room! I could hardly restrain myself from removing the teasing, satisfied smile from your lips.”
Her hand caressed his face, and he placed a small kiss inside her palm.
“I was such a ridiculous, pompous fool all those weeks. I tried so hard to repress my feelings for you. During the ball at Netherfield, your beauty and liveliness bewitched me; I wanted nothing more than to be near you. Instead, I resigned myself to staying apart, following you with my eyes. I saw you looking around for Wickham. You were searching for Wickham then, were you not?”
She nodded with regret and mortification.
“Then I saw you dancing with Collins and…I felt jealous—jealous of Wickham, jealous even of Collins for being able to dance with you, to hold your hand—
She wanted him to stop recalling such painful memories—painful and ridiculous because they were the result of their follies and their mistaken pride and prejudice. Nevertheless, he still had more to say.