6. Chapter Six
Chapter Six
T he next morning, Elizabeth was surprised to discover that it was she who arrived first at the stone bridge. The dew was still fresh in the grass that trailed along either edge of the path, and the bottom of her skirt was damp.
Standing at the peak of the bridge’s arch, she glanced anxiously in the direction that led to Rosings. Thoughts that startled her with their vehemence coursed through her brain. Why was the gentleman late? Had he changed his mind and decided that her verses were indeed so vile that his warmth had been extinguished? That was what she desired most, was it not?
Elizabeth groaned and rubbed her forehead, unable to dismiss this new, startling sensation of desiring the company of Mr Darcy. Her rationale rapidly deduced that it could be nothing more than the novelty of their recent friendship that had overcome Elizabeth’s initial loathing of the man. Aside from Charlotte, until Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr Darcy had arrived, intelligent dialogue had been almost completely absent from the parsonage and Rosings Park. At last, Elizabeth concluded that she had struck on the very explanation that clarified her recent turmoil.
“I hope that look of worry is not for me.”
Elizabeth glanced up, a smile lightening her spirit, a leap of her heart making her pulse erratic, the unexpected warmth of pleasure heating her face. Mr Darcy stood at the base of the bridge, one hand on the wall, watching her with uncertainty. Though once her glad countenance was observed by him, he returned her greeting with a broad smile of his own.
Stepping up to stand in front of her, he said, “I do apologise. I had an evening of frustration and could not rest till I had found what I searched for.”
“And what was it that you searched for, sir? More badly written verse to further the cooling effects that my own scribbles must have begun?”
“The reverse, actually. I concluded that since you tried in vain to convince me out of my feelings with poor verse, it was only just if I attempted to further your good opinion of me with a verse of my own. Would you not agree? Each of us have a destination in mind—mine being to assure you of the sincerity of my regard and yours to dissuade me—and I believe it to be an equitable solution that we each make an effort to achieve our ends.”
“Mr Darcy, I…I do not think that you should attempt such an act. I should never have written that poem. We must cease this…whatever this is. Before it borders on irredeemable impropriety.”
“One week, Miss Bennet. You did assure me of one week to make my case that this affection for you is not founded on myth or a desire to amuse myself in some vile way.”
Her eyes shot up to meet his. “I never accused you of such an act as that!”
“Not in so many words. But your poem alluded to it. And very rightly so. For, how else can you explain such a violent, sudden declaration after I had behaved in such a rude manner in the past? It is incumbent upon me to demonstrate that my intentions are true and the offering of my hand in marriage was sincere.”
Elizabeth turned so that her face would be hidden, hoping to disguise the tumult of emotions she was experiencing. Paper rustled behind her.
“I confess, I have two to read. Not because I am any good at composing poetry, but because one poorly written one is by my own hand. And the other is said with much more eloquence and grace by the hand of a master.”
Elizabeth only nodded as Mr Darcy cleared his throat.
“Fine eyes in a pretty face,
My first thoughts of you now bring me shame and disgrace.
For many months now, I’ve been witness to so much more,
A lithe figure, a loving heart, a musical laugh, a mind that calls me out to settle any score.
You are all that my heart craves, all that it desires,
If you consent to be my wife, my humble heart is yours, forever aflame on love’s pyres.”
“That was…a decent attempt. Decent indeed.” Elizabeth turned and gazed up into his face, her throat constricted in diffident embarrassment. Recalling his warm words about her eyes, she dropped her gaze from his and turned her back to him, unsure of how to praise a poem of love. It was not a common occurrence for Elizabeth to hear one expressly composed for her.
“Your forbearance is greatly appreciated,” Mr Darcy said. Elizabeth giggled and glanced back at him. “But I think the excerpt I found from a John Donne poem is more to what I wish to express. It portrays my fondest wishes for my future. And yours.”
“My face in thine eye, thine in mine appears,
And true plain hearts do in the faces rest;
Where can we find two better hemispheres,
Without sharp north, without declining west?
Whatever dies, was not mixed equally;
If our two loves be one, or, thou and I
Love so alike, that none do slacken, none can die.”
Elizabeth’s mind raced to catch the title of the poem from her memory. “Why, that is from The Good-Morrow ! Excellent choice, with the picture he paints of images of his love reflected in his eye. And it is just as…”
Elizabeth realised how close she had stepped to Mr Darcy in her excitement of hearing the familiar poem so well recited. His arm thrust out and caught her fingers, clasping her hand firmly in both of his.
“It is at the break of dawn, when two who love each other awaken for the day.” Mr Darcy pressed eagerly on.
“Stay, O Sweet, and do not rise,
The light that shines comes from thine eyes;
The day breaks not, it is my heart,
Because that you and I must part.”
Elizabeth’s heart raced as Mr Darcy pulled her closer to him. He raised her hand and pressed his lips down on it, his warm breath on her flesh causing her own to quicken. His cheek came to rest on the skin just above her fingers.
“My dearest Elizabeth,” he whispered as he raised his head. One arm slid around her waist, pressing her to him. “Can you not see with your own eyes? My heart is yours; my intentions are true. Will you not take my poor poem and Mr Donne’s much better verse and please consider that I might be in love with you? Truly and passionately. I beg you to admit into your consideration that I may be sincerely, ardently, irretrievably in your power. No unnatural persuasion caused my regard. It was you alone. Your eyes, your mind, your figure, your beautiful countenance. I cannot begin to imagine ever encountering a more enchanting woman than you.”
Elizabeth’s gaze dropped to Mr Darcy’s lips. Her heart raced with a surge of longing that this moment should never end. Her body shut all wise counsel out and desired nothing more than to remain by this man. For a moment, her scruples that had advised her that this was a false notion of his were gone. He could not merely be toying with her affections or labouring under delusions.
His head bent down. For a cruelly brief moment, his lips brushed hers lightly. Elizabeth’s eyes shut and a sigh escaped her mouth when the crisp air told her that he had pulled his mouth from her unprotesting lips. Her body betrayed her, desire compelling Elizabeth to consider that perhaps she had no wish to prove to Mr Darcy that his regard for her was false.
Without releasing her, Mr Darcy asked in a low murmur, “Will you sing for me tonight?”
Elizabeth could only nod as his arm released her waist. His eye held a twinkle of hopeful amusement as he straightened up, pulling his warm body from hers.
“I am glad my efforts at composition were not met with a harsher critique.”
Elizabeth, coming back to her senses, laughed lightly, attempting to regain some of her lost composure. “You overwhelm me, sir. Never in my wildest flights of imagination could I have believed that you were capable of such ardent declarations.”
Mr Darcy looked down, his brow furrowed in confused hurt. “Was your opinion of me really so low? That I was incapable of warmth or humour?”
“It matters not, for as you have pointed out by being more open about your past, some of my previous opinions were misinformed.”
“But your good opinion of me was so slight, I hope that I have done something to make amends for past injuries that were unintended.”
“By your defence of one of my mother’s good qualities, the desire to protect her children at the cost of social standing, you have revealed to me a keener insight than I thought you possessed as well as a willingness to forgive injuries that have been done to you. I recall that you previously declared that if one is unfortunate enough to lose your good opinion, you are not likely to return it.”
Mr Darcy laughed as he brushed some detritus of dissolved autumn leaves from the wall of the bridge. A smell of earth and the past winter months reached Elizabeth’s nose. The decay of all of her former hatred of Mr Darcy had been swept away by his efforts, much like the crumbling brown litter was being strewn on the waters below and carried away. But were the beginnings of love replacing where the hate once reigned?
“I do not believe there was a previous time in my life when I made so many prideful declamations as I did in Hertfordshire. And it seems to me that you were present for each and every one. An unfortunate occurrence that I am now hoping to balance by demonstrating that I am not so beastly all the time.”
Elizabeth bit her lip, stifling a smile. “You have gone a long way towards reforming my opinion towards you, sir.”
His gaze shot up. “Have I really?”
Hesitancy curled through her blood, protective of her heart. “To some extent.”
Mr Darcy smiled, deeply and warmly. “You know not how much your words comfort me. I am pleased to hear that I begin to make some amends. If your song did indeed enthral me in a peculiar admiration, I can assure you that I need never hear your voice in song again and my sentiments would remain forever unchanged.”
Elizabeth blinked back against the surprise as the gentleman stepped forward rapidly and clasped her hand. Bringing it to his lips once again, with a slight bow, Mr Darcy placed a last kiss on her hand before releasing it.
“Till this evening, Miss Bennet.”
“Yes. And I am to sing for you again?”
“Only if you wish. My sentiments are unchanging. If a song will please you, then it is also my fondest desire.”
Elizabeth turned, uncertain as to whether her heart could withstand more than the excited warmth it was already experiencing. Her feet felt light as the distance back to the parsonage passed beneath them rapidly.