Chapter 13 #2
“Then I asked you to dance—and it was the most painful torture. I felt you were so perfectly suited to me. I knew we were well matched in our dance, yet we argued bitterly the entire time. And instead of talking to you and attempting to correct your wrong impression of me, I chose to run—taking Bingley with me. Now I know that, in doing so, I broke Bingley’s heart and Miss Bennet’s, too.
But no heart was as painfully ripped apart as mine.
Until that day, I had never been forced to separate from the woman I loved.
In truth I had never loved anyone until I met you, my Elizabeth. ”
She felt warm tears burning and did not struggle to stop them. Her fingers began to unbutton his coat—shyly, awkwardly. He looked at her, mesmerised and incredulous.
Finally, her hand slide inside his waistcoat, and for a moment, she tensed at the feeling of his warmth smouldering through the thin fabric of the shirt. She felt briefly disconcerted, but her hand explored further and came to rest over his heart.
“From now on, I shall take excellent care of your heart, William,” she said, lowering her head and placing a soft kiss upon the same spot. Both her hand and her lips were covering his heart.
He said nothing, but embraced her while her warm, steady breath seared him through the thin fabric. It was not just pleasure, passion, or desire…but pure and complete love.
“Look, William,” she suddenly cried after they had lain together in utter bliss for a time.
“The sun is rising. What a perfectly beautiful sight to behold.” She rose to admire the magnificent view, and he joined her.
From behind, he embraced her, she ensconced within his arms. She leaned her head against his shoulder while her free hair tantalised his neck.
“You are the perfect beauty,” he whispered, as his lips remained to tease her earlobe.
“Oh, do be serious! Is it not beautiful? I am so happy I have seen the sunrise with you.”
“I am serious, my love,” he answered, and his words gave her shivers. “But do you realise that having seen the sunrise together means we have spent the night together?”
“Indeed, it does mean that,” she replied blushing. She suddenly turned in his arms so she could face him. Their bodies were crushed against each other as her hands found their way around his neck.
“Elizabeth…” he whispered hoarsely and lifted her off the ground to gently deposit her on the blanket again. “We should leave soon. Someone might appear…”
“Yes, we should…very soon,” she admitted.
She knew he would kiss her again, and she desperately wished for him to do so.
Under the assault of his hungry lips, she leaned on her back again, pulling him with her.
His kisses were different in a million ways, yet so perfectly and equally delightful.
Small, tender kisses, gentle and light, tantalisingly spread over her face, her throat, even down to her shoulders, and then daringly to the neckline of her dress—hungry, long and possessive kisses that devoured her mouth and left her breathless, throwing her into a storm of sensations.
With gentle, warm caresses, his hands explored her arms, her neck, her shoulders, her face—every spot of uncovered skin—and again his right hand encircled her waist for a moment and then moved upward.
Elizabeth stopped breathing. Even in that tumult of feelings, she knew what was next; when his fingers brushed lightly against her breast, she moaned, and her back arched instinctively.
He slowed his kisses and allowed her to breathe as his fingers continued gently to caress the soft roundness through the thin fabric and then moved slowly toward the other.
His touch was so light that she could not say if it was real or only imagined, and it soon turned into a sweet torture—a torture she did not want to end but to turn into something more.
“My love…we really should be going now,” Darcy said, drawing her shockingly back to reality. “And I think I should accompany you home and speak to your father without delay.”
Darcy helped Elizabeth restore her hair and arrange her bonnet—not an easy task as, each time his fingers touched her hair, a new storm of kisses followed. Finally, they began walking together in silence, their fingers entwined, as Darcy’s horse followed obediently.
“Elizabeth,” he said the moment Longbourn came into view. “As soon as Mr Bennet grants me his consent, I would like you to think about setting a date for our wedding.”
She looked at him, surprisingly astonished and confused. “A date? I do not know. I thought we would consider it together. How could I possibly decide it alone?”
“Well, we could consider it together, but I am not sure you would approve the date I have in mind.”
“You already have a date in mind, sir? What date is that?” she asked incredulously.
“Tomorrow,” he answered, and she burst out laughing.
At her demand of being serious, he replied with perfect soundness.
“I am serious, Elizabeth. If it were for my desire only, we would marry as soon as I procure a special license, which might take a few days. But, I shall allow you complete liberty to make the decision for us.”
Elizabeth stared at him, uncertain whether he was serious or speaking in jest, but she had no time to reply. In front of Longbourn’s main door, Mr Bennet was looking at them with an impenetrable expression upon his face.
“Mr Bennet, good morning, sir.” Darcy bowed properly to the master of the house.
“Papa! Good morning. Mr Darcy and I have just met and he was kind enough to accompany me home.” Elizabeth explained, wondering about her father’s countenance.
“Indeed? It was very kind of him—and such a happy coincidence that you two happened to meet.”
“As a matter of fact, it was not quite a coincidence, sir; it was my intention to call on you this morning and ask for a private conference, so I was on my way toward Longbourn—
“A private conference? With me? Well, then this is an even greater coincidence, as I have long desired to speak privately with you, as well.”
“A happy coincidence, indeed, sir. I am at your disposal whenever you wish.”
“Then let this be the moment for it, Mr Darcy. If you would be willing to indulge me, let us retire to my library just now.” With a strange look toward his daughter, he turned his back and directed Darcy, who brushed his fingers over Elizabeth’s arm in a reassuring gesture, to his favourite room.
“Would you care for something to drink, Mr Darcy,” asked Mr Bennet as soon as the door closed.
“No thank you, sir; it is early yet.”
“It is early indeed; we have not even had breakfast, and I suspect neither have you.”
“You are correct, sir; I have not.”
“And you decided to visit me at such an early hour? You must have a very important reason to do so,” Mr Bennet said, mockery obvious in his voice.
“My sister and brother Gardiner have spoken very highly of you and seem to value your character as well as your perfect manners, sir. I confess I have not been in your company enough to form my own opinion on the subject.”
Darcy’s countenance changed in a moment.
Mr Bennet’s words, attitude and tone were meant to offend him; he was aware of that.
Yet, he was Elizabeth’s beloved father, and Darcy wanted his consent and, possibly, his blessing more than anything else at that moment.
With prudence, he decided to guide the conversation toward the goal he wished to achieve.
“I apologise, sir. I realise the hour is highly improper for a visit and in truth—
“Oh come now, sir, you must not apologise for that! There are many other improper things you have done lately if we are to speak the truth!”
“I am afraid I do not understand your meaning, sir.”
“Mr Darcy, the matter is of too much importance for me to afford being considerate of your feelings. In truth, the offence I might give you means nothing compared to my daughter’s felicity.”
At that point, Darcy lost his patience. “If you are referring to your second daughter, Miss Elizabeth, I assure you, sir, that her felicity is more important to me than my own feelings.”
“Truly? Such nice words, sir. But I wonder how it is possible that private meetings on secluded paths early in the morning and ruining her reputation could help my daughter’s felicity.”
Darcy’s face darkened instantly, and his self-control deserted him. He was not to be spoken to in that manner—not even by Elizabeth’s father—yet he had little time to respond.
“I am not as inattentive to the behaviour of those around me as some might believe, Mr Darcy. Last autumn, while my family found great amusement in retelling how you called Elizabeth barely ‘tolerable’ and refused to dance with her, it did not take me long to notice things were not quite so.” Darcy paled and, as rarely in his life, had no apt words in reply.
“I noticed you during the Netherfield ball, sir. I can still remember how shocked I was to see you staring at my daughter the entire night, following her every movement with your eyes and then asking her to dance. I searched your expression during that dance, and it was not the expression of a man who finds a lady only tolerable.”
Darcy froze in the middle of the room as Mr Bennet continued: “But your look was not the look of a gentleman who admires and wants to enter into an honourable arrangement with the lady either, Mr Darcy. In fact, I also noticed that very night the disapproval—I might say the disgust—in your expression as you looked at us, the other members of Elizabeth’s family—
“Mr Bennet, if you would allow me to explain, sir…” Darcy’s face was white and immovable while his wounded pride fought against remorse for his past behaviour.