Chapter 6 #2
“If I confess struggling with what is expected of a gentleman, would that make you more inclined to share? Were I the sort who allowed myself any impulsivity, you would know the original direction of my thoughts was not of a gentlemanly turn.”
“It does, and I thank you. Now I feel no shame for my own. Perhaps you should work your being more impulsive while I struggle to be less so.”
“Perhaps. Will you tell me what it was you imagined?”
“I shall not. I must, however, tell you the depth of my regret—”
Darcy turned her to him.
“My sister informed me of your wish to apologize, but there is no need. Your forgiveness of my gauche behavior is more than I deserve. You do not control your mother’s words or actions any more than I can my aunt Lady Catherine’s redressing those who do no wrong.”
“Thank you. That is more generous than I could have dared hope.”
“What did you imagine, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy asked again, leaning toward her.
“I am embarrassed to admit it, so please do not ask again.”
“Did you hope I would kiss you?”
Darcy’s voice was low, his darkening eyes looking at her with expectation. Miss Elizabeth did not turn away, but within her eyes, a reflection of her emotions, she questioned his intent.
“I find more enjoyment in being unpredictable. No, Mr. Darcy, I imagined kissing you. Given that you are so tall, you must agree it was, indeed, a wild imagining,” she said in her spirited way, his laugh echoing through the crisp morning air.
“Rather so, quite true.”
“Oh, but it is worse than even that. I have long wished to meet a prince under a spell, one only my kiss would wake.”
“And how many years have you searched gardens for your prince, Princess Elizabeth?”
“These five years, at least. You, however, are not enraptured, so you cannot be him. I am barely tolerable to you.”
Miss Elizabeth’s pertness diverted Darcy excessively. He would eschew such nonsense from no one else. Yet he wanted her story to go on for as long as he could encourage her to speak.
“Do you intend to remind me of my mistaken words every day? I regret not seeing your unequaled beauty with the same immediacy that Bingley saw it in your sister. To me, you are the more beautiful of the two.” Their mirth had gone; it was with solemnity he now spoke.
“The truth, Princess Elizabeth, is that your beauty and vivaciousness spellbind me.”
Darcy quickly scanned the garden to confirm they were alone. He ignored his conscience, which was telling him he damn well should not do what it was he considered.
At that moment, what was of greatest importance to him was erasing the hurt his comment had caused her. He sat on the nearest stone bench and stared up at her. Silently, he waited for her to discern what he offered.
“Do you walk through all of the gardens in England to allow young ladies the chance to fulfill their fantasies, Prince Darcy?”
“It would be Prince William, Princess Elizabeth. And the answer is no. I have never dared even to imagine a scene as you have described. In fact, it is only by your leave I am induced to such actions.”
“And you believe my kiss will break the spell, Prince William?”
Darcy understood why she used the moniker.
Perhaps in pretending to be others, we can excuse to ourselves what might come.
“If I am honest, I fear it will put me further under your power. But I can think of no time in my life when I have known greater desire to kiss a woman. Your denying me is the only way we can escape this magical garden without my compromising you.”
Darcy lifted one gloved hand to his lips and pressed a kiss on the back. Though he again looked up at her, he did not let her hand go. She slowly slid it from his fingers and cupped his jaw.
“If I do, would you claim me wanton or trying to trap you?”
“No,” Darcy said, unashamed of the hoarseness in his voice, incapable of refraining from rubbing his cheek against her palm. “I would know you granted me mercy.”
“It would be my first, Prince William.”
“Yet I know it would be perfect, Princess Elizabeth.”
Darcy went so still he thought his heartbeat stopped when she lowered her face to his.
It took every bit of reserve he had never known he possessed to contain his groan of longing when her fingers again whispered across his cheeks.
She closed the remaining distance between them, lightly brushing her lips against his before pulling back to seek reassurance.
“Thank you, Princess Elizabeth,” Darcy said, swallowing against the harshness of his voice. He captured her hand and pressed it against his cheek, then turned his face into it. He kissed the palm, unable to keep from bestowing a second when he felt her tremble.
“Thank you for making my longest daydream come true, Prince William,” Elizabeth said before she curtseyed and rushed away.
Darcy sat on the bench a while longer, pondering their encounter. He had intended none of it. But claiming her first kiss, something often done in a moment of tender love or reckless abandon, had instead led to, arguably, his sweetest accomplishment.
Darcy stared at the camellias surrounding the bench, just beginning to wilt in these warmer climes.
He picked the two brightest buds and then made his way to the study to write two notes.
He asked an upstairs maid to deliver one to Miss Elizabeth.
He wrote another letter to his sister expressing his admiration for the woman she was becoming and left it in their sitting room.
Reassurance and Remembrance
Hearing a knock, Elizabeth’s first thought was that she and Mr. Darcy had been seen and she was to be called to account. Swallowing to counter the sudden tightness of her throat, Elizabeth opened the door.
A maid stood there with a finger to her lips while holding out a pink camellia with a piece of parchment curled around the stem.
Elizabeth whispered her thanks and closed the door again.
She forced herself into a semblance of composure, and her racing heart calmed with knowing they had not been caught before she read the note…
Never stop dreaming, Princess Elizabeth
Elizabeth reread the words and then tucked the parchment in her pocket. She hid her rose in the trunk sent from Longbourn. Checking her appearance once more to verify that no curls had escaped, Elizabeth went in search of her sister.
Elizabeth and Jane found Mr. Bingley, Mr. Darcy, and Miss Darcy in the breakfast parlor. They had enjoyed more than an hour’s conversation before the Miss Bennets announced it was time to send a note to Longbourn requesting the carriage.
Bingley protested the necessity, asking that his carriage be readied. While they waited, Elizabeth and Jane were again assured by Miss Darcy of her intent to invite them again before the week’s end.
“Before you go, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy commanded all their attention when he addressed her in particular. “Can you tell me where one might go for a morning walk further afield than the Netherfield gardens?”
“My sister will tell you a favored path is to Oakham Mount,” Elizabeth said.
“But, of late, I have enjoyed walking along the stream between Longbourn and Lucas Lodge. There are apple trees, which, in the spring, bloom. On autumn mornings, I find deer and other animals enjoying the fruit that has fallen to the ground.”
During this very proper conversation, neither could be in doubt that the other was thinking of their kiss. She saw his eyes darken the same as they had when she stepped in close and knew he observed her deepening blush.
The moment was broken when the butler announced the carriage was ready. She and Mr. Darcy watched Mr. Bingley assist Jane into his carriage, then Mr. Darcy performed the same service for her.
When she and Jane looked out the window on the back of the carriage, they saw both gentlemen and Miss Darcy watching until the coach turned out of the drive.