Chapter 8 #3
“I am sorry to say that I am only sore. Would you feel better if I had a dislocated rib or two? Needed some leeches?”
She wanted to put him at ease, but the only thing that solved that was being with her. He breathed freer now. She was well, and they were tête-à-tête once more. “If I am to be sent in a blind panic on your behalf, you could at least make it worth my worry.”
She laughed and leant her head against his chest, putting an arm around his waist. “I do not intend to worry you.”
He enjoyed being with her like this, entirely alone and at ease, finally secure in their affection for one another. “I am sorry your experience at the Epsom Derby was not what you wanted it to be.”
“It was still an enjoyable day.” Elizabeth looked up at him as he put his other arm around her.
“It was a different energy from yesterday, but it was thrilling to watch. Part of me wishes I could ride at such speeds. And any attempt at a description of the scene on the downs must fall short of conveying an accurate idea of the dash, bustle, brilliancy, and commotion. I only wish you had been with me.”
He bent to kiss her, but she shifted her shoulders and winced, as she moved near to meet his lips. “Elizabeth, are you in pain?”
“No,” she insisted, giving him a soft kiss. He stared at her. “Maybe a minor discomfort in a few places,” she said in a meek voice.
Darcy pointed to the bed. She looked about to argue, but then sighed. She moved a little stiffly to settle herself under the bedclothes, as if her shoulders or back were sore, but she seemed well, all things considered. But riding in a carriage or standing all day could not be wise.
“You ought to stay home tomorrow,” he said when her head was on the pillow, “and I will stay behind too.”
“Then you will have to sit and talk with me all day. Are you prepared for that much teasing?”
“I am resigned to my fate.”
He was about to leave when she called him back. “Oh, have you had a letter from Mr Bingley?”
Darcy smiled at her enthusiasm and came back, sitting on the edge of her bed. “No, but perhaps that is because he has been too busy to write?”
“Quite busy, and my sister too, but she is a loyal correspondent and had good news she had to share with me. She could not contain her happiness on a full sheet of paper.”
“I am very glad of it,” he said, hoping she knew how deeply he meant it.
It was a relief to have that matter resolved, and that he had atoned for separating Jane and Bingley.
“Maybe we could marry on the same day?” They could expect a reply from Elizabeth’s parents tomorrow or Saturday, and by Monday, if all went well, he would secure Mr Bennet’s permission in person.
“I would like that.” Elizabeth smiled and ran her fingertips over his hand. “I enjoy being with you like this, perfectly comfortable. I would not have thought it possible a week ago, or even desirable—and now your company is necessary to my happiness.”
“I thought the same thing,” he whispered.
Darcy leant over her, balancing himself with one hand on the other side of her body, and kissed her good night.
He felt Elizabeth breathe him in, as if she was pulling the air straight from his own lungs.
She wrapped a hand around his head and drew him down.
What was meant to be a soft kiss in parting became urgent and longing.
He stretched out next to her, letting his hand roam the curve of her hip.
Elizabeth turned toward him, pressing her body more tightly against his, although she was under the bedclothes and he was above.
His heartbeat pounded against his chest, and his breaths grew short.
He shifted, pressing tighter against her, and she arched into him.
Darcy ran his fingers over the loose hair at her shoulder, tracing a strand down the front of her body until he stroked the back of his knuckles over her breast, sending a shudder through her that passed through him as well.
He cupped her breast in his palm, then traced over it with the pad of his thumb until she whimpered against his lips.
He pulled back to find her eyes wide open and her lips parted, her breath coming in short pants.
“I should go,” he whispered. Julia or Lady Metcalfe might come in to check on her, unlikely though it was. Regardless, he had not come for this; he had only needed to know she was safe.
“You should,” she agreed, “but not because I want you to leave. In fact, I cannot help but imagine what we could do if you stayed.”
He would not sleep tonight after that admission, but he would not trade her declaration for anything in the world. She had fallen in love with him quickly, and he had fallen in love gradually, but perhaps that did not signify. They loved one another now, and that was what mattered.
Giving her a quick kiss, Darcy hastily stood, blew out the candles, and left through the dressing room and down a back stair toward the public rooms. He ought to have taken one of Elizabeth’s candles, for the voices behind the drawing room door meant the family was home.
It might appear strange to be here at this hour without a candle and not dressed for company.
Darcy walked toward the library to get a candle and to pretend he had been in search of a book. He did not expect to encounter anyone, but it was best to give the appearance he had been nowhere near Elizabeth’s chamber. He entered, expecting to find it vacant, but was shocked by what he saw.
Mr Travers stood before the metamorphic table on the far side of the room with a woman in front of him and braced upright against it.
Both had their backs to the door, and Darcy could only see the top of her head against Mr Travers’s shoulder.
Her skirts were pushed high over her hips and his breeches had fallen low.
The heavy table easily withstood the onslaught it took.
They were far too involved to notice him and made too much noise themselves to hear him. Darcy backed out of the library and shut the door. The encounter took all of five seconds, but it was an unpleasant vision he wished could be scraped from his mind.
It must have been Julia Metcalfe, with her height and blonde hair—and given what she had offered him only hours before.
As much as such things happened at such parties, he would not have anticipated it happening between those two.
But she was young and beautiful, the most classically handsome woman at Woodcote.
What would her mother think to hear of it?
But he would not ruin a woman’s reputation, not even a callous one like Julia.
He would admit nothing about what he had seen.