Chapter 3
Elizabeth rose to her feet. “It will be dark soon, so truly I must go now. My aunt and uncle from London have no doubt already arrived and will be wondering where I am.” Hopefully that good reason would forestall Miss Darcy's pleas for her to remain just a little longer.
She needed to nurse her pain over Mr. Wickham's perfidy in private, and she was reaching the end of her tolerance for polite company.
And then there was the constant stress of wondering what Mr. Darcy was truly thinking of her - and what part he played in convincing Mr. Bingley to leave Netherfield and her dear sister Jane.
“Oh, I hope you will call again!” Miss Darcy exclaimed, with a glance at her brother. “I would be so glad of it.”
“Indeed, Miss Elizabeth. I know it must be hard to get away during Christmas, but we would be pleased to see you.”
Was he saying that on his own behalf, or simply because she had entertained his sister? It did not matter, after all. The Darcys were only here until Twelfth Night, and then she would never see either of them again. The idea gave her a surprising pang.
“I will do my best. And I promise to keep your presence a complete secret.”
Darcy came to stand beside her. “Would you do me the honor of permitting me to accompany you on your walk? As you say, the light is fading.”
“It is three miles entire to Longbourn, sir, and it would be full dark long before you are back.” And she needed the time alone to recover from this strange day.
He smiled. “I will take a lantern.”
“Oh, look!” the girl cried, pointing at the ceiling above their head. “You are under the mistletoe!” She sounded delighted.
Mr. Darcy looked startled, but then a slow smile spread over his countenance. “So we are.” No doubt he was making the best of it to please his sister. Elizabeth must be the last woman in the world he would want to find under the mistletoe.
Hastily she said, “I must warn you this is the magic mistletoe of Netherfield. It is unusually potent and should only be used with caution.” Not that even Netherfield mistletoe could create a courtship between the proud Mr. Darcy and her!
He raised an eyebrow. “Magical mistletoe?”
She could not resist the opportunity to tease. “Likely it is but an old wives’ tale, to be sure. But can you afford to risk it?”
“I think I will take my chances. Unless you object, Miss Elizabeth?” His voice was low.
Her mouth went dry. “I... it is traditional, after all.” And she had only herself to blame, since she had hung it there!
“Who am I to break with tradition?” he said in barely a whisper, his eyes growing dark.
Heat rose in her cheeks. She glanced to the side, unable to meet that intent gaze. He would kiss her cheek, would he not?
Then a finger came under her chin, turning her head to face him directly, and his mouth descended on hers.
Her breath caught as an odd feeling churned her insides.
Then his lips covered hers, warm, so much softer than she had expected, sending a rush of longing through her.
And it was not just a brief brush; his lips clung to hers, as if he were drinking in some essence of her through their caress.
It was intimate beyond anything she had ever experienced.
Other young men had occasionally stolen a kiss from her, but it had never felt like this, like something new had come to life deep inside her.
She was almost dizzy with it. She wanted to grasp his coat to support herself, to be even closer to him.
This vital connection was exquisite, and she longed for more.
Then it was over. The warmth fled from her lips as he raised his head. She opened her eyes to stare at him - when had she closed them? Sometime during that astonishing kiss, which had been eye-opening in every other way.
His breathing was uneven, just like her own. His eyes were soft, even darker now than before. “Yes,” he whispered. “That is indeed potent mistletoe.”
She rallied her scattered thoughts. “I did warn you.”
“So you did.” He did not sound displeased, though, far from it.
Could this truly be the same proud, unpleasant Mr. Darcy she had known before, the one who only looked at her to criticize?
Then she came to her senses. What were they doing, staring into each other's eyes after a kiss that had been far more than what was required under the mistletoe - and in front of his young sister? If her cheeks had not already been burning, they certainly would be now!
She rubbed her hands together, trying to force her recalcitrant body to behave. She turned to Miss Darcy, hoping not to see a look of horror on the poor girl's face. Would this have reminded her of kisses from the cad who had betrayed her?
But the girl's hands were clasped together, and her face was alight with hope. Surely she could not believe that kiss had meant something!
Hurriedly Elizabeth said, “And now I truly must depart.” Could she sneak off before Mr. Darcy found a lantern? Spending more time in his company right now might be torture of a different sort.
Then she glanced up at him. Would it be such a bad idea? It would give her an opportunity to see if his new agreeability could last through a long, cold walk. After all, she had been completely wrong about Mr. Wickham. Could she have made a similar mistake about Mr. Darcy?
She stole a glance at him. The warmth of his expression kindled hope inside her.
Why had Mr. Darcy insisted on walking with her if he intended not to say a word?
It was like the last time she saw him, when they danced together at the Netherfield ball, and she had teased him that they must have some conversation.
Apparently that astonishing kiss had not changed anything for him.
Or it might had not been as surprising and unusual to him.
He must have kissed many women like that, and she was no different from the rest. Or even less than the rest, since his disapproval of her had always been clear.
What if he had only accompanied her in order to remonstrate with her or warn her to stay away from his sister?
With that lowering thought, she gathered her courage. There was one thing she needed to tell him, because it was true. “I do apologize for my interference. I should have left your sister alone when she first said she ought not speak to me.”
He gave her a surprised look. “I am glad you did not. Today is the first time I have heard her laugh in nearly half a year. You have my deepest gratitude for that.”
What did he want from her, then? “It was a pleasure to meet her. She is a sweet girl.”
“Yes.” He tightened his greatcoat around him as if the temperature had dropped. “I have a rather odd request to make of you, which may seem impertinent given the conversation we shared during our dance at the Netherfield Ball, but I have only my sister's happiness in mind.”
So he remembered that night, too? She had not been under the impression that he had paid the least attention to what she had said then, and she could hardly remember it herself. “I will try not to take offense.”
He took a deep breath. “I am aware of your acquaintance with Mr. Wickham. I would greatly appreciate it if you did not mention his name in my sister's presence. She would find it... upsetting.”
As if she had any desire to speak of him!
The very thought made her stomach lurch, but Mr. Darcy could not know that her opinion had changed so radically.
“Of course. I am no longer under the impression that he is a respectable man.” Then it struck her.
Miss Darcy was devastated by a man who had charmed her, and now this warning from Mr. Darcy.
“Oh, no! Was he the one... Oh, I am so sorry! That is none of my business. But what a horrible, horrible thing to do to a vulnerable child.”
“My sister has a dowry of thirty thousand pounds.” He said it as if that explained everything, which she supposed it did. “It will not be the last time she is targeted by a fortune-hunter, but I wish it had not happened while she was still so young.”
Elizabeth had already been angry with Wickham, but now fury filled her. “A dung heap is far too good for him.”
“I will not argue the point.” He paused, then added, “I think it was rather brilliant of you to make her think he deserves such punishment, though. You seemed to know the right things to say to a young girl.” The tone of his voice made an unspoken continuation, that he found the task a hard one.
“Having three younger sisters gives me a great deal of practice,” she said. “Though I will admit that your sister listened to me more than mine do!”
“She was lucky to encounter you today,” he said seriously.
They had reached a stile, and he offered her his hand to help her cross it.
Not that she had failed to do so perfectly well without any assistance only a few hours ago!
But she took it, and his touch was like a brand, even through the gloves they both wore.
How could she feel such slight pressure through every inch of her body? Truly that kiss had addled her wits!
When Mr. Wickham had taken her hand, she had enjoyed the sensation, but this was so much stronger. How strange, when she did not even like Mr. Darcy!
Or at least she had not before now. Today had showed her a different side of him. Should she give him a second chance?
Except for one thing. As soon as she reached Longbourn, she would see Jane's crestfallen expression, pained by the loss of Mr. Bingley. A loss which Mr. Darcy may well have played a role in.
Should she ask him? It was hardly proper, but nothing she had done that day had been proper. And she cared nothing for his good opinion, did she? At least she had not before today, and he had never hidden his criticism from her. What did she have to lose?
The impulse was too strong for her. “Am I to understand that Mr. Bingley does not plan to return to Netherfield?”
He looked surprised at the change of subject, or it might be at the edge in her voice. “I do not believe so, no.”
“A pity. For us, at least, though I doubt it has any effect on him, unlike my poor sister. I had thought better of him, but I suppose there is nothing unusual in a wealthy gentleman leading on a young lady, winning her affection, and then abandoning her. After all, it provides him with entertainment and costs him nothing.” Oh, no, that had been too reckless!
She had spent too many nights awake wishing she could say that to him, and in her fatigue and disturbance of spirits, the words had tripped too easily off her tongue.
There was silence, and she dared not look at him to judge his expression. Finally he said, “Bingley is a good man, but he falls in and out of love easily and frequently.”
“How nice for him! It is unfortunate for the ladies involved, but I suppose their feelings do not matter.” She did her best to sound flippant.
“From my observation of the two of them together, your sister's feelings did not seem particularly engaged. Had I thought her in danger, I should have warned Bingley away earlier.”
Did he realize what he had just admitted?
Fury rose in her, and she stopped to stare at him.
“I am greatly impressed that you can judge so much simply by looking at a woman's face from a distance. Especially when ladies are expected to keep an even countenance at all times! Sadly, this time you were sorely mistaken. A pity Mr. Bingley did not rely on his own judgment in his romantic endeavors; he might have done better.”
“If your sister was hurt by his departure, then I am sorry for it.”
“If! If! If I was lying in what I said, you mean!” She was beyond rational thought now.
“I believe it is time for you to turn back now. That way you can return to your heartbroken sister more quickly while I go to care for mine.” That should give him something to think about! She stomped ahead at a quick pace.
He hurried beside her. “Miss Elizabeth, I did not mean to question your word. Especially when you have just been so kind to Georgiana.”
Insufferable man! Still, somehow she must rein in her temper. “It is easy to be kind to her. Good day, Mr. Darcy.” She put all the finality she could in her words.
This time he did not follow her. “Good day, Miss Elizabeth.” He sounded defeated. “I hope we will see you again.”
Because he wanted her to cheer his sister, of course. She called back, “I will not break my promise to Miss Darcy.”
She set as fast a pace as she dared. Past the fields and around the copse, until she was certain he could not see her. Then she stopped, pressing her hands against her face, trying to still her fast breathing and pounding heart.
What was wrong with her?
Everything, of course. Her own disappointment in Mr. Wickham, learning how fallible her judgment had been.
Jane's heartbreak. Even before that, the disaster of Mr. Collins's proposal and her mother's rage that she had refused him.
Her shock in discovering that her dear friend Charlotte would betray everything she believed in to marry for money.
One day they had all been happy at the Netherfield ball, where the worst thing that happened was having to dance with that horrid Mr. Darcy. And then, the very next day, everything had gone so wrong so quickly.
Now she had to find a way to restore her countenance before she reached the house. She could not go in there with her temper so unbalanced.
She needed to follow the advice she had given Miss Darcy. It was time to think about the hope of spring.