Chapter 4 #3
That was not how it typically worked, but no one argued with her.
Darcy looked reluctant, but perhaps that was due to Julia’s excessive notice.
She was obviously trying to set herself up to be kissed by him if he chose it, but he would never pair himself with Julia.
He would not raise Julia’s expectations, not when she had been so plain about what she wanted from him.
If Elizabeth could not be certain of Darcy’s feelings for her, it was abundantly clear that he did not love Julia Metcalfe.
Elizabeth watched him think. If he chose one with kissing and they were paired together, it must be a sign that he might someday propose again. She could use that chance to show him how much she admired him now.
“Let us do ‘Weakest Goes to the Wall,’” he muttered, stepping around the chairs to stand by the wall. “I choose Miss Bennet.”
Hope filled her as she followed Mrs Tessier’s shooing motion to stand in front of Darcy.
“I do not know this game,” she whispered. She stood a little nearer to him than was necessary, but he did not draw away. What if it was a kissing forfeit? She would have to be this near if she were to kiss him through the course of the game.
Someone cleared their throat. “Miss Bennet, you must choose the next person, one of the opposite sex,” called Mrs Tessier.
“Oh!” she said with a start. “Sir John Whitney.” It did not matter who.
What mattered was how to convey to Darcy, as part of a game and in front of a houseful of people, her feelings for him had changed, deepened, and grown.
Had they grown into love? Was that the name to put to all the affection she had for him now?
When the rest of the party was coupled, their conductor cried, “Face about, and let each knight kiss his lady!”
Darcy turned to face the wall. Elizabeth stood in some confusion, staring at his back until Sir John tapped her shoulder and she turned round.
He gave her a smug look before leaning down and pecking her lips.
It was more subdued than she would have presumed from such a dallying man.
His leering manner was obscener than the actual kiss, and Elizabeth suspected he knew precisely how to walk the line between decorum and prurience.
“There now,” Sir John said when he was done. “Did you enjoy that? You ladies are the greatest gainers in forfeits, after all.”
She refrained from rubbing her lips with the back of her hand.
She had resolved to act with greater kindness after the way she had treated Darcy, had she not?
Elizabeth held back from showing her disgust on her face but still said, “That makes it seem as though your kisses are worth as much as the capital prize in the lottery.”
He winked, then leant to whisper in her ear, “I save those kisses for personal occasions, not games.”
She had to put a stop to any expectation of that. “I do not want any kisses of yours aside from ones come by the wheel of fortune.”
Sir John shrugged as though it was her loss and moved away. He did not seem the sort to force a woman, but he would welcome any eager one. Darcy had turned round and stared hard at Sir John’s retreating back.
She realised now that, from his position, Darcy was obliged, of course, to kiss the wall.
He chose a game where he would kiss no one, a game that would raise a laugh against him.
How odd he would choose that. Perhaps that meant nothing disparaging toward her.
He was being punished for losing, after all, so it was not strange that he kissed no one.
That did not mean he was opposed to half a kiss to her in another round.
“Shall we move on to the next penitent?” asked Sir John. “I am eager to be punished by a pretty lady’s lips.”
“Mr Darcy had only one other forfeit, if I recall correctly,” said Julia, who, of course, paid undue attention to Darcy. “Why not have him complete his punishment?”
“I choose Cupid’s Turnpike,” he said, talking over Mrs Tessier, who was about to choose one for him. “Miss Bennet, would you complete our pair?”
Elizabeth knew this forfeit, and once again Darcy kissed no one.
They went to the middle of the room and joined their hands and elevated their arms to form an arch.
In this forfeit, she called a lady, who called for a gentleman, then that couple entered the bower, where she and Darcy would drop their arms and trap them, forcing them to pay the toll of a kiss to be freed.
Each couple formed a new arch and called a new person who selected a partner, who would then pay an additional toll to pass through to the end.
Mrs Tessier even joined to complete the couples and be included in the harmless kissing.
Everyone laughed and joked, but Elizabeth felt a sinking alarm.
Darcy chose another forfeit that had no chance of him kissing anyone.
Whilst she held his warm hands throughout this punishment, it was not as pleasant as a light kiss where she could impart some heartfelt meaning.
For the rest of the evening, with every forfeit paid, Darcy avoided kissing her.
He interacted with her if the forfeit was a silly game, but if it was a kissing one, he deliberately chose another woman or managed to pair her with Henry or Mr Travers.
He shared a kiss with every other woman in the party, most on more than one occasion, much to Julia’s obvious delight.
Watching him play Kiss if You Can with Julia, kneeling back-to-back and looking over their shoulders to kiss one another was almost more than she could take.
Whilst Darcy felt nothing for Julia, it still vexed her to see her lips touch his.
Julia scarcely pretended to baffle him, and Darcy easily landed a short, successful kiss.
“How glad I am you did not miss,” she said in a low voice when they rose from the floor.
“Your servant,” he said whilst walking away.
Not even his indifference to Julia could comfort Elizabeth.
Darcy’s refusal to kiss her even in a game checked her rising passion for him.
He must not have any lingering warm feelings for her, so there was no sense in wondering how deep her newfound affection for him went.
Putting a name to that ardent feeling in her heart could serve no purpose since it was not returned.
The disappointment hit harder than she had a right to feel. Since their walk this afternoon, a growing part of her knew Darcy was the man she wished to distinguish above all others, if she were ever given a second chance. But it would never come.
He forgave her for all the vitriol of her treatment of him and even took her reproofs to heart, but he could not suffer to touch his lips to hers in a game.
Darcy might not resent her, but her being here pained him.
And her wanting to kiss him when he did not want her made her feel disgusted with herself.
She could not stay at Woodcote if her presence injured him. She thought too well of Darcy now to want to hurt him, regardless of how she had previously, foolishly, tried to vex him.
When they broke up for the evening, and in twos and threes called for candles and went to bed, Elizabeth caught Darcy in the lobby above the grand entrance hall, next to an assortment of vases and statues.
She pretended to want to share his candle until their ways parted.
It was better to talk to him now, otherwise tomorrow would be a torment to them both.
“Mr Darcy?” she stammered. “You must be angrier with me than I realised and—”
“Angry?” he repeated in a tone of confusion.
“I thought we understood one another better now, but if I was wrong, I must arrange a way to go home. I hold you in too much esteem to injure you with my presence.”
“I do not understand you. I hold you in a great deal of esteem, as well.”
That soothed her, but esteem was not love. “You spent all evening evading…me,” she finished weakly, not realising until now how awkward this would be.
Darcy stopped walking, and utter perplexity washed over his face. “I chose you first for several games. I sat next to you and—”
“You avoided kissing me,” she interrupted. “You avoided being paired with me for the forfeits,” she corrected in a quieter voice.
His confused look fell away, and a more intense one replaced it. He took a slow breath. “Did you want me to kiss you?”
There was no suitable answer to that. The truth was mortifying to say, but a lie would create something insincere between them. A deep resounding “yes” formed in her chest and almost burst from her lips, but she could never admit it.
“I do not blame you for not wanting to,” she whispered, avoiding answering his question. “If you cannot stand to give me half a kiss in a game, you must dislike me immensely after what happened at Hunsford.”
Darcy took a step nearer, and she felt near to trembling.
A smile flashed on his lips. Or did she imagine it?
The Darcy she knew was too reserved for anything like a smug smile.
But she had been wrong about him being stern.
Darcy gave her heated looks and admired her person and talked openly with her.
Or was he just triumphing that the woman who rejected him now regretted losing him?
It would be only natural, even for a good-hearted man like him.
Who knew what was on his mind. Her own thoughts were all in a muddle and her breath came out in short pants. Darcy’s candle flickered in his hand as he moved closer to her.
“Half a kiss?” he repeated in a low voice that struck her all the way down to her stomach. “Miss Bennet, I won’t kiss you by halves, I promise you. If I ever kiss you, it will not be a half kiss as part of a game.”
He then handed her the candle, wished her a good evening, and strode away into the dark.