Chapter 13
Elizabeth
Mr. Darcy’s first kiss was neither planned nor entirely imprudent.
It took place three days after the Netherfield dinner, at the end of a walk that should have lasted an hour and lasted nearly three.
Jane and Mr. Bingley were to accompany us. At the last moment, my mother detained Jane to choose ribbons for the bridesmaids’ dresses. Bingley, learning of this delay, said he would wait for his fiancée. Mr. Darcy could have stayed with him.
Yet he arrived at Longbourn at the appointed hour.
“I fear our walk may be cancelled,” I told him.
“Why?”
“We have no chaperone.”
He looked at Kitty and Mary, settled in the drawing room. Mary was reading. Kitty was applying herself diligently to boredom.
“Miss Catherine could accompany us.”
Kitty raised her head, then noticed the threatening rain beyond the windows.
“I prefer to stay. It’s going to rain.”
“Mary?” I asked.
“Walking is excellent for one’s health,” she replied, “but I have reached a passage that requires my full attention.”
Darcy turned to me.
“We shall stay within the bounds of the estate and keep to the paths visible from the house.”
“You have prepared your defense.”
“Since this morning.”
I accepted.
The sky was low, the air mild. We followed the main drive first, then the path that crossed a small wood to the east of Longbourn. The house disappeared behind the trees. I pointed this out to him.
“We are therefore compromised,” he said.
“Only if someone discovers us.”
“This philosophy surprises me, coming from you.”
“Do not rejoice too quickly. I am merely warning you that if my reputation suffers, you will have to marry me.”
He stopped.
I realized my jest had struck too close to our uncertainty.
“Forgive me,” I said.
“Do not apologize.”
“You look offended.”
“I am not. I am only trying not to say that I sometimes wish a scandal would decide for you.”
The frankness of this admission made my heart beat faster.
“You do not truly wish it.”
“No. But desire is not always honorable before the will corrects it.”
We resumed our walk.
“Is it difficult?” I asked.
“What?”
“To wait.”
He turned to me with an almost incredulous look.
“Yes.”
“You could have lied.”
“You would have reproached me for it.”
“Probably.”
“Then I prefer to suffer honestly.”
The first clap of thunder rolled in the distance. I raised my eyes.
“Kitty was right.”
“We are ten minutes from the house.”
The rain began before he finished speaking. Large drops struck the leaves, then a sudden downpour enveloped us. Darcy removed his coat and placed it on my shoulders despite my protest.
“You will be drenched.”
“I already am.”
We ran to an old abandoned garden pavilion near the edge of the wood. The roof leaked in two places, but the interior offered relative shelter. I entered laughing, breathless, my skirts heavy with water around my ankles.
Darcy remained near the opening, as if the distance of a few steps could preserve the proprieties the storm had just battered.
“You are ridiculous,” I said.
“I am attempting not to be.”
“You are shivering.”
“It is not the cold.”
His gaze dropped, despite himself, to my dress. The damp fabric clung to my arms and waist. I drew his coat over my chest, suddenly conscious of every contour the rain had made visible.
He turned away.
This delicacy troubled me more than a lingering gaze would have.
“You may look at me,” I murmured.
He remained still.
“Elizabeth.”
“I have not given you permission to ignore me.”
He turned slowly.
The rain hammered the roof. The space between us seemed to shrink without either of us moving.
“You don’t realize what you’re asking of me,” he said.
“I only ask that you not act as if my presence no longer matters to you.”
“It never will.”
He took a step.
I did not retreat.
“At Hunsford,” he continued, “I believed you returned an affection you did not feel. Since then, I’ve feared reading into your every gesture what I want to see.”
“Then ask me.”
“What should I ask?”
His voice had dropped to a murmur.
I looked at his mouth. This time, I did not look away.
“What you want to know.”
He drew closer still. His hand rose, stopped near my cheek.
“May I touch you?”
“Yes.”
His fingers brushed my temple and pushed back the wet strand clinging there. That light touch traveled through my entire body. His palm slid along my cheek, then stilled beneath my chin.
“May I kiss you?”
I could have answered with a jest. No words came.
I simply tilted my face toward him.
His lips touched mine with an almost painful restraint. A cautious, brief kiss that ended before I understood what it awakened. Darcy drew back at once.
I remained still, my breath short.
He had waited. He had asked. And now he left me to decide what followed.
I placed a hand on his cravat and drew him back to me.
The second kiss was not cautious.
His mouth opened on mine. His arm encircled my waist, drawing me closer to the warmth of his drenched body.
I felt beneath my fingers the tension in his shoulders, the strength he still restrained.
When he grazed my lip with his tongue, an unfamiliar sensation passed through me so sharply that a sound escaped me.
Darcy stopped.
“Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
“Are you certain?”
“If you ask another question, I might change my mind.”
A breath like laughter brushed against my mouth.
He kissed me again.
I did not know what I was doing. I knew only that his hands remained at my waist and on my back, that he did not seek to cross the boundaries I had not named, and that his restraint made my own desire bolder. I slipped my fingers into his damp hair. He inhaled sharply.
His body pressed against mine.
I understood then, with a clarity that made me blush beneath his mouth, the physical nature of his desire. He drew back at once, his face taut.
“Forgive me.”
“You have imposed nothing on me.”
“We must stop.”
“Because you wish it?”
His eyes darkened.
“No.”
The answer sent a deep warmth through my belly.
“Then why?”
“Because you have not yet decided to marry me. Because I refuse to let a moment of desire become another form of constraint. And because if you touch me like that again, I cannot promise how easily I will pull away.”
I slowly withdrew my hands.
“You answer very well for yourself thus far.”
“You have no idea of the effort.”
The rain began to let up.
We remained separated by a few steps, breathing too quickly in the small pavilion.
My body felt different, more awake, almost impatient.
I had long believed that love must precede desire or that the two arose together in a natural order.
I discovered that the body could choose before the mind declared itself ready.
“This kiss does not constitute a promise,” I said.
Darcy closed his eyes for a second.
“I know.”
“But it was not gratitude.”
He looked at me.
“That is enough for today.”
On the way back, we walked without touching. His coat stayed around my shoulders, and his scent wrapped around me with every step.
When Longbourn came back into view, I knew nothing would be simple anymore.
I still hadn’t decided to marry Mr. Darcy.
But now I knew exactly what I would lose by refusing him.