Chapter Nine #2
Mrs. Bennet lowered her eyes and fluttered her handkerchief.
“Yes, yes. Whatever you think is best.” Suitably cowed, she directed her next few questions to Bingley, a less alarming conversational partner.
Bingley replied gracefully to all her veiled hints about whether he would make an offer to Miss Bennet as a faint blush stained that woman’s countenance.
A maid bustled in with a tray, and Miss Bennet deftly poured the tea.
Lady Sterling said nothing, but she seemed to observe everything. Darcy was a bit perplexed. Was she examining him—evaluating whether he would make a fit husband for her goddaughter? Certainly, she possessed a shrewd intelligence that Mrs. Bennet lacked.
But her ladyship’s good opinion does not matter. I will not marry Elizabeth. We are simply carrying out a charade. Sometimes, he found it difficult to remember.
“It would be a fine thing to have two daughters engaged!” Mrs. Bennet said to Bingley, apparently believing she was being subtle. Nobody else in the room was under that illusion.
“I am sure it would be,” Bingley said amiably. “Are any of your other daughters courting?”
“No.” Mrs. Bennet said sharply, perturbed that Bingley had apparently missed her “hint.” But after a moment, she tried again. “And you are such good friends with Mr. Darcy! How nice it would be if you were both engaged at the same time!”
“Indeed,” Bingley said with his same bland expression. “But our friend Livingston is also betrothed. So Darcy may share the experience with him.”
Mrs. Bennet let out a frustrated noise.
Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, who had her eyes closed. Was she imagining that she was far away—perhaps alone on the side of a mountain? Or perhaps she fantasized that her mother might be suddenly struck mute.
Mrs. Bennet bit into a biscuit and returned her attention to Darcy. “Have you considered where you and Lizzy will pass your wedding trip?”
The last thing Darcy desired to discuss was their imaginary honeymoon. “No.”
Mrs. Bennet continued, unwilling to allow his disinterest to stand in the way of giving advice.
“The Lake District is supposed to be very pretty and not too far from Derbyshire, but I daresay you have visited it. Perhaps the seaside? Brighton or Ramsgate? Mrs. Purvis’s son took his bride to Scotland.
That would be quite exciting if you don’t object to the journey—or the weather. Have you ever visited Scotland?”
“I have. I own a house there,” Darcy replied.
“Oh! Do you hear that, Lizzy?” her mother exclaimed. “You will be very grand—visiting Scotland all the time!”
Elizabeth fidgeted in her seat. He sympathized. Darcy had not anticipated how awkward this false engagement would be, particularly when planning for a future that would never come to pass.
Deceiving Elizabeth’s closest family had not been part of the original scheme.
Darcy possessed few qualms about fooling a blackguard like Harwood or his own meddlesome aunt.
But Mrs. Bennet cared about her daughter even as she was vexing beyond words.
Lady Sterling, Miss Bennet, and Bingley had done nothing to warrant being deceived.
Darcy could only hope they would never learn the truth.
The discourse continued in this spirit for some time. Every word Mrs. Bennet uttered was more mortifying than what she had said before. Elizabeth shifted constantly in her seat, stared at the floor, and worried her handkerchief.
At a break in the conversation, Elizabeth jumped to her feet. “I would like a walk above all things. It is a lovely day.”
Outside, the sky darkened, and the wind whipped the leaves from the trees. But Darcy was not about to object. “Certainly. If you would like…my dear.”
Bingley must have longed for an escape as well, for he was already standing. “Fresh air would do wonders for me. Miss Bennet?”
“I would love to,” Miss Bennet said softly.
“Excellent!” Elizabeth exclaimed.
Darcy took her arm and led her to the door, but before they could pass, Mrs. Bennet coughed ostentatiously. They both turned toward her.
“Look up,” Mrs. Bennet said, smiling slyly.
A sprig of mistletoe had been nailed to the lintel—directly over their heads. Darcy was caught between laughter and embarrassment.
Mrs. Bennet’s expression was triumphant. “I found some late-blooming mistletoe in Lady Sterling’s garden. I could not resist.”
“Mama!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “Christmas is past.”
“Just one teeny, tiny kiss,” her mother wheedled.
Darcy scowled. He customarily avoided mistletoe because he was not in the habit of kissing random women. Ordinarily, he would have been safe from that fate in April. Curse the interfering woman!
Elizabeth buried her face in one hand.
“Kiss! Kiss!” her mother called.
Elizabeth held up a hand. “No, Mama.”
“It is the rule!” Mrs. Bennet sang out.
Darcy loathed the idea of forcing his attentions on Elizabeth and performing for strangers, but persistent refusal might rouse suspicion. Couples in love were supposed to demonstrate affection. A quick kiss would allow them to escape the room and Mrs. Bennet. “I suggest we comply,” he murmured.
“My apologies for this.” Her expression was heavy with chagrin.
“Kissing you is not a chore,” he reassured her, winning a slight smile.
Darcy awkwardly put his hands around her, endeavoring not to touch any intimate places. Initially stiffening, she quickly relaxed into his embrace. He was humbled by her trust in him.
He bent his head, pressing his lips to hers. She was gloriously warm and yielding. At first, it was a strange sensation. Darcy had kissed women before, but never like this.
He intended a quick peck on her mouth, but her lips were so soft, he lingered. Then she started returning his kiss with enthusiasm, and Darcy was lost. All thoughts of a swift and polite kiss fled. He deepened the kiss, exploring her mouth. Now he drowned in sensations. Nothing could satisfy him.
Elizabeth was wonderfully responsive, reacting to his smallest touch. Soon, Darcy’s hands knew where to go. One stroked her back while the other cradled the nape of her neck; he marveled at her silky skin and played with the little curls there. He reveled in the little shiver he provoked.
Behavior like this would show Elizabeth he was wildly attracted to her. But in the moment he did not care.
She matched his passion. Kiss for kiss. Embrace for embrace. What does that mean? Does she admire me as well? Darcy wanted that to be true, even though he knew he should not.
The sound of laughter penetrated his haze of happiness and recalled him to the surrounding world. Good Lord! How could I have forgotten our audience? What is happening to me?
He reluctantly released Elizabeth, feeling the echo of her lips on his.
She stared at him, as dazed as he felt. Darcy breathed heavily, and Elizabeth’s limbs trembled. He held her waist as if she might collapse. At last, they dared to glance at the room’s other occupants.
Every eye in the room was fixed on them. Lady Sterling appeared slightly scandalized. A red-faced Miss Bennet could not even look in their direction. Bingley’s mouth was agape.
However, Mrs. Bennet smiled knowingly and clapped, quite pleased with herself. “Well, Lizzy, you had better wed directly. With a kiss like that…you might anticipate your vows!” She chuckled.
Elizabeth turned her head away. Lady Sterling shot Mrs. Bennet an admonishing look, while Bingley and Miss Bennet pretended to be somewhere else.
How could I have lost control like that? I practically mauled her in front of her family! Such conduct does not become a gentleman. Until that moment, Darcy had not realized how dangerous Elizabeth was to his discipline.
Perhaps it was not too embarrassing. Kisses under the mistletoe were common. Of course, most mistletoe kisses were short and brief. Not long and (he was forced to admit) rather passionate.
“I beg your pardon,” Darcy said stiffly.
Mrs. Bennet waved this away. “No need to apologize. Would that Mr. B. kissed me like that. He did in the past… But now he kisses like a dead fish!”
The words hung in the air.
Bingley cleared his throat. “Perhaps now would be a good time for that walk?” he said to nobody in particular.
“Indeed!” Miss Bennet grabbed his arm with enthusiasm.
Darcy said nothing but ushered Elizabeth into the hall.