Chapter 18
Elizabeth listened for a time until she heard the door of her mother’s room close and Hill’s heavy steps move down the stairs.
If they would only go to bed and fall asleep quickly!
Darcy had promised to come no more than an hour after they left Netherfield.
She would not consider allowing him to leave for London before she saw him again as planned.
She could not control the sensation of utter happiness that enveloped her and made her feel as though she were still dancing—or flying.
It was the first night of her “official” engagement.
She threw herself on the bed and laughed heartily, remembering the facial expressions on the people in attendance the moment her father made the announcement.
Never before had Elizabeth witnessed eyes and mouths widened into such perfect “O’s” as those of Miss Cardington and Miss Bingley.
She knew she should feel sorrow for their hurt feelings, but she was certain neither lady held any genuine regard or affection for Mr Darcy.
With a mixture of embarrassment and amusement, Elizabeth remembered her mother’s swoon and the reaction of everyone who witnessed it.
Together with Jane, Elizabeth had actually run toward their mother and escorted the servants who carried an unconscious Mrs Bennet to the nearest private room.
When their mother recovered a few minutes later, her cries of utter happiness and her loudly expressed admiration and gratitude for Mr Darcy—such a tall, handsome gentleman—turned Elizabeth’s worry into mortification; she was deeply grateful that such effusions were heard only by herself.
Taking advantage of the privacy of the room, Elizabeth had answered a few questions and tried to calm not only her mother’s nerves but also her desire to leave immediately and find Mr Darcy.
To Elizabeth’s relief, Mrs Gardiner arrived a moment later and sent her niece to reunite with her intended while she offered to remain and care for her sister Bennet.
When they had at length rejoined the others, Mrs Bennet was somewhat calmer and her behaviour astonishingly proper.
She did offer her congratulations and expressed her approval to Mr Darcy, but she did so in such a quiet, discreet way that nobody could have found any fault in her manners.
Mr Darcy was more than gentlemanlike in his elegant bow to her; no one in the ballroom actually heard what the gentleman and his future mother-in-law spoke of, but it was clear to everyone that it was an amiable conversation.
The rest of the night had passed as expected: a cold reception of the news from Mr Bingley’s relatives and much curiosity and speculation whispered around the room from the inhabitants of Meryton.
The latter could not decide whether they should envy the Bennets for their fortune or pity Elizabeth for having to spend the rest of her life with such a severe, aloof gentleman as Mr Darcy.
There was also the early retreat from the ball of Miss Cardington; a sudden headache forced her to prefer the solitude of her bedchamber to the din of the supper room.
Eventually, Mrs Hurst remembered her duties and addressed Elizabeth with brief words of congratulation, but Miss Bingley was too engrossed in comforting her headachy friend to meet Elizabeth face-to-face.
Jane had suffered and been ashamed of the cold attitude of her future sisters toward her beloved Lizzy, and Mr Bingley could not have been more angry with his relatives’ lack of propriety.
As for Elizabeth, as long as she was able to be with Mr Darcy, enjoy his company during supper, and stand up with him for another set afterward, she was able to bear the disdain of Miss Bingley and her ilk remarkably well.
By the end of the ball, the Meryton population in attendance shared the opinion that Mr Darcy was not quite so disagreeable—especially when he smiled—and perhaps Elizabeth Bennet would not be wholly miserable married to him.
In any case, it was universally admitted that Mrs Bennet had every reason to be satisfied with her elder daughters’ success in securing good husbands. Lady Lucas was nothing compared to her.
Elizabeth opened the door silently and slipped out; the coldness surrounded her instantly, and she shivered, wrapping the pelisse around her and struggling to see anything through the darkness.
The next moment she gasped in fright as two strong arms imprisoned her, giving her no chance to escape.
In an instant, her senses and her heart told her she had no reason to fear.
She knew it was Darcy long before her eyes discerned his beloved face, and his low, gentle voice apologised for alarming her.
He directed her toward the garden, holding her tightly in his embrace.
“You are freezing…You must return to the house immediately.”
“I will certainly do no such thing, sir—at least, not immediately.”
“Then let us sit and I will keep you warm.” Before she had time to inquire where precisely to sit, he was already on the cold ground, wet from the autumn frost, and drawing her down with him.
To her astonishment, Elizabeth found herself sitting in his lap, crushed to his chest, while his left arm encircled her back.
He unbuttoned his coat and enclosed them both, nestling her even closer to him.
“You will ruin your clothes completely,” she said, still not recovered from being in such an intimate embrace.
She felt her cheeks burning as she struggled to do something with her hands, their faces so close that she could almost feel his mouth.
The sensation of their bodies so intimately touching, the warmth of his thighs beneath her, their faces at the same level, and his lips lowering to touch hers made her quiver.
His free hand found its way to meet hers and directed them to encircle his waist, and then his fingers moved up to brush along the line of her jaw and stopped to tantalise her earlobe as his palm cupped her cheek.
“I daresay my income affords me the ability to procure as many new clothes as needed,” he replied teasingly as their lips met.
Only that moment did Elizabeth realise how she missed being alone with him and longed for his kisses, his closeness, his taste.
She knew he desired her in equal measure, and she had positive proof when his kisses became more demanding and his lips more hungry.
His hand travelled down, caressing her neck, her shoulder, her waist, until she felt his fingers stroking her thigh.
She tensed and he stopped, their mouths separated by the space of a breath.
After a moment of hesitation, she resumed the kiss, and her hands encircled his neck, resting at his nape.
When his fingers began to move again—his caresses more determined, more daring, more breathtaking—she abandoned herself to the exquisite pleasure he was giving her.
She was wearing her nightgown, robe and pelisse, but all those garments were insufficient to protect her skin from his burning touch.
She completely lost track of time, but apparently, he did not. His assault on her mouth changed from fierce to gentle and became small kisses exploring her face. She could not suppress her regret when his caresses ceased.
“Elizabeth, I must leave now,” he said, and her heart sank.
“I know. Will you not stay just a few more minutes?”
“Of course I will,” he replied. “I could not possibly separate from you so abruptly after having you so close.” She knew that he was forcing himself to smile and make light of the situation.
Elizabeth nestled her head on the warm spot between his neck and shoulder, and cuddled close to his chest. She felt his fingers playing in her hair, and thought she would swoon.
“We shall be married in a month,” she said, wondering what possessed her to say that.
He laughed. “Indeed—a month can be a very long time.”
She felt her cheeks flushing. “Oh, I did not mean that.”
“Then what did you mean?”
“I…” She considered her answer for a few moments; indeed, what did she mean?
“I would be happy to know you wish this month were shorter—that you share my impatience to be married.”
She breathed deeply and cupped his face with her palms so she could see his eyes in the darkness. “Then you may be happy, sir,” she said as she placed a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“And you must leave now as you have a long journey to London and must return as soon as possible. I have your word for that, sir.”
“Indeed you have. You may rest assured, Miss Bennet, that I have not the slightest intention of delaying a moment longer than necessary.”
They rose; without hesitation, she threw her arms around his waist and crushed herself against him. His arms embraced her so forcefully that neither of them could breathe. His lips rested upon the top of her head, and then he lifted her face to place soft kisses upon each of her eyes.
“When I return, I shall ask Mrs Bennet’s help to secure as much time with you as possible,” he said, hoping to hide the emotions that made his voice tremble. “Private, unchaperoned time.”
Tearfully, she fought the lump in her throat that hindered her words.
“You must know my mother would refuse you nothing.”
“Yes, I do know that; in fact, I depend upon it. And now you must leave, Elizabeth. Please return to the house. I will stay here until you have closed the door behind you; I want to see you safely inside.”
“As you wish.” She was unable to argue with him and unwilling to burden him further with tears she could no longer control. “Will you send me a note when you arrive?”
“Of course I will.” He lifted her hands and placed a kiss in each of her palms. She turned to leave, but he held her a moment longer.
“Elizabeth? I want to tell you how ardently I love and admire you—