Chapter Thirteen
What was I thinking? The refrain echoed through Darcy’s mind for the remainder of the ball, the journey back to his townhouse, and as he readied himself for bed. Why did I kiss her? What came over me?
What is wrong with me?
He needed to think. All night, he needed to think.
When Elizabeth returned to the ballroom, she had been swept away to dance with yet another young man. Darcy was obligated to dance with Miss Bingley.
He had avoided Elizabeth for the rest of the ball. Hopefully, nobody noticed. She had glanced in his direction a few times, but he had turned his head. How could he face her after taking advantage of her innocence like that?
For the remainder of the evening, he had been desperate to return to Darcy House.
But when Bingley’s coachman had fallen ill, Darcy had offered to transport his friend and his sisters.
Thus, Darcy had been required to wait until they were disposed to leave, and Bingley would not depart until Miss Bennet was gone.
Then he had to endure the tedious carriage ride to take them to Hurst’s home. Miss Bingley had dominated the discourse, analyzing the gowns and conduct of every woman in attendance at the ball. What a relief when he was alone in the carriage!
Still, he needed to give instructions to the coachman and butler about his plans for tomorrow. Next, he endured his valet helping him to undress.
Only then was he actually alone. He knew sleep would be impossible, but he climbed into bed anyway.
The sheets were cool and soothing where they touched his skin.
He glared at the elaborate carvings in the mahogany frame supporting the blue silk canopy—barely visible in the moonlight shining through the window.
So thoughtful of my ancestors to supply something interesting to observe when I cannot sleep.
He wondered if similar troubles had beset any of them.
Unlikely. Most had arranged marriages—and mistresses.
He recalled the evening with perfect clarity. Elizabeth waltzed with him. Her hand in his; his hand on her waist. Her white silk gown had rippled around her like waves. Her eyes had shone as she gazed at him. He would not have believed a smile that wide would be possible.
And then they had been alone, and her lips had been…perfect, irresistible. Her every expression a siren call.
It had been hours since he had beheld her, but he was haunted by the memories. The music in her laughter. The silkiness of her skin. Why did it have to be Elizabeth Bennet who enchanted him thus?
Why did I kiss her? What a spectacularly bad idea. Someone could have caught them. He knew this. Yet he still kissed her. What came over me?
She would be well within her rights to claim he had compromised her; he would not deny it. He practically begged her to do so after the kiss. He should be horrified at imagining such an accusation, but his degree of horror was rather…weak.
Yes, I would like it if the choice were taken out of my hands.
Would I not? If another person witnessed me compromising her, then I would be forced to marry her.
The choice would no longer be mine, and my problems would be solved.
I could indulge my tenderness for her while honor would demand that I marry her.
I would be compelled, but at least I would have Elizabeth.
But they had not been discovered, and she had insisted she had been a willing participant.
I should be relieved that I need not marry her. He endeavored to feel relief. But all he felt was a desire to kiss her again.
Certainly, he was only responding to his baser instincts, the animal part of his nature. He had simply been overcome with desire.
However, he did not wish to kiss Lady Julia.
He would no more kiss her than kiss his horse.
Nor had he restrained a desire to kiss any of the women he had met in the ton over the years.
Oh, he found many of them attractive, but he had never been overwhelmed by the need to have a particular lady in his arms.
Why did the one woman who excited his passions have to be so completely unsuitable? Marrying her would mean permanent estrangement from most of his family and tying himself forever to her family’s antics. And he could not forget that she declared no desire to marry.
Still, certainly she would marry me if I offered.
He could understand that she did not want to consign her future to the local men in Hertfordshire, but Darcy offered her—and her family—far more fortune and social standing than they could possibly have hoped.
She could not possibly prefer a life of lonely spinsterhood to him.
With time, he might be able to convince her to change her views. But why should I? Why should I expend any effort for someone who does not want me?
No. He could not marry her, so honor demanded that he distance himself from her. Treat her in a disinterested manner. Be civil without fanning the flames of his desire.
In two days, he would be hosting a musicale at Darcy House, and naturally, Elizabeth would attend.
It would be the perfect opportunity to test his new resolve.
***
The day after the Sudleys’ ball, Elizabeth was exhausted and out of sorts. Confusion over Mr. Darcy made for a restless and unsettled night. He had kissed her passionately, then apologized as if he wanted to forget the event completely. What did it mean?
She did not eat breakfast and only descended in time for a luncheon by herself. Despite the elegant furnishings, the dining room was cold and lifeless with Elizabeth as its only inhabitant. Every movement of her spoon echoed off the walls.
She did not know Jane had ventured out for a ride with Mr. Bingley in his curricle until her sister burst into the dining room, wreathed in smiles. “Oh, it is too much! I am so happy!” she exclaimed.
“What is it?” Elizabeth asked, although she had her suspicions.
“Charles asked me to marry him!”
“How wonderful!” Elizabeth leapt from her chair to embrace her sister. Nothing could have pleased her more. Not only had Jane’s marriage been Elizabeth’s chief object in visiting London, but she trusted that Mr. Bingley would make her sister exceedingly happy.
Her sister nearly danced with joy. “I am so happy I cannot bear it. I will bring such joy to our entire family.”
Elizabeth hugged her sister again. “Nobody deserves such bliss as you do.” She absolutely meant every word. Jane was a much better person than Elizabeth, far kinder and more forgiving. And Mr. Bingley had a similar temperament. They would have a wonderful marriage.
“Charles has ridden to Hertfordshire to secure Papa’s permission.”
Elizabeth squeezed Jane’s hands. “The news will delight everyone at Longbourn.”
Jane would have a home of her own, children, and a husband who loved her. She and Mr. Bingley were nothing like Elizabeth’s parents; they ran no risk of their marriage turning into sour dislike. Elizabeth feared that for herself, but Jane was not in danger.
Jane collapsed into a chair. “Perhaps we might have a double wedding. Charles and Mr. Darcy are such great friends.”
Guilt pierced Elizabeth. She could not spoil Jane’s felicity with the truth of her false engagement, but perhaps she could at least temper expectations. “William and I are likely to have a lengthy engagement. You might not want to wait that long, dearest.”
Jane smiled up at the ceiling. “No, we would not want to wait long.”
Elizabeth could not help envying such contentment. Marital bliss was not her destiny; she was too much like her father.
Jane sat up and frowned at her sister. “Why should you wait?”
Elizabeth simply shrugged.
“Mr. Darcy is violently in love with you.”
“Why do you say that?” The astonished words burst from Elizabeth before she could stop them.
Jane regarded her oddly. “You must have noticed. His eyes follows you wherever you go. He listens attentively when you speak. He talks to you with greater animation than with anyone else.”
Shock caused Elizabeth to speak more frankly than she intended. “Perhaps he is a little more at ease with me than with others, but I do not believe his love is as violent as all that.” Yes, he kissed me, but that merely demonstrates desire, not love. And he apologized for his “mistake.”
Jane’s brows knit together. “But you must see it! Charles has been amazed at the changes in Mr. Darcy since he met you. Even this morning, he said he has never seen his friend so altered.”
Elizabeth realized her mouth hung open and closed it with an audible snap. Mr. Bingley has known his friend for a long time. But no doubt he sees what he wishes to see.
Jane leaned forward, concern etched on her face. “Are you so amazed your engagement has made Mr. Darcy exceedingly happy?”
What should Elizabeth say? Mr. Bingley and Jane were in love. They liked to believe that everyone else was in love as well.
Jane must have noticed something in her sister’s expression. She moved to the chair closer to Elizabeth. “Are you having doubts about the engagement?”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. The impulse to reveal everything was very strong. If only she could tell Jane everything. We have been pretending to be in love. We would never be good as husband and wife. Our families, our worlds, are too different.
But she could not burden Jane with such intelligence on her sister’s joyous day. She gave her sister a small smile. “Not really. But marriage is such a big change. It is rather frightening.”
That was the right thing to say. Jane relaxed into a matching smile. “It is a little frightening, is it not? Becoming part of a new family? Being mistress of my own house? Living in a new place? But then I remind myself that Charles will be by my side to help me meet those challenges.”