Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
Elizabeth sat next to him, legs outstretched and feet tapping together, prattling away, but Darcy was too preoccupied for her lively chat.
She had two hairbreadth escapes and had now been cruelly trapped behind a jib-door.
These were serious offences, and graver than Elizabeth believed them to be.
To her, the vase and the carriage were unfortunate incidents that had nothing to do with one another, let alone her.
But he was certain it was a jealous and desperate Julia Metcalfe, who had now recruited someone to aid in her scheme.
“If Julia did trap me in here, just think how cross she will be to go to the races and learn you are nowhere to be found,” Elizabeth said later in a half-serious, half-sportive tone.
“I daresay she will shriek and stamp her foot when she learns instead of having you to herself today and tonight, she forced us to spend all day together behind a locked door.”
He made an evasive sound of acknowledgement.
Julia Metcalfe had cloven feet as far as he was concerned, but there was no proving she was behind the previous accidents or this scheme.
And Elizabeth was determined to believe they were merely two mischances and a trick, rather than three dark actions taken by a dangerous woman.
He felt he was right, but he had no proof. Some scheme was at work, and it frustrated him that Elizabeth did not believe him. He would not say that distressed him more than her being attacked in the first place, but it did not help his mood.
“Now that we are here, we can get to know one another better, so this is not terrible. Our season of courtship has begun,” she said brightly.
“We could have done that sitting in the library on a sofa,” he muttered.
“At least we have a window. And the library is a garish room.”
“It matches the rest of the house, with its Palladian windows and rococo chimney-pieces and ugly ornaments at every corner.”
“I am glad to get to know you better, regardless of where we are. I can tell you my favourite food, if I prefer tea or coffee, my favourite colour, my favourite place. These are things a husband ought to know.”
He looked at her, but said nothing. He was in no mind for diversions.
“Your silence tells me you cannot wait another moment for my answers. I prefer curry of rabbit with preserves of olives to anything. I always prefer tea. My favourite colour is yellow, and my favourite place is new: it is wherever you are.”
This earned her a half smile, but he was not ready to be lively with so many concerns pressing on his mind.
Was his future wife safe? Was he wrong and was she only the victim of this trick, and the vase and the carriage really were unfortunate accidents?
He had thought the uncertainty over Elizabeth’s feelings for him after Hunsford was the most unsure he could feel.
It was nothing to wondering how much danger Elizabeth was in.
“I can answer for your preferences,” she went on.
“You can tell me if I am wrong, but I know I am not. I may not have always loved you, but I have always noticed you. You have a sweet tooth, you take tea at breakfast but coffee in the evening, because it helps you keep fashionable late hours, I suppose. Your favourite colour must be green because you prefer a green coat to a blue one, and your favourite place is Pemberley. So you see, I know you well already.”
Her good cheer was relentless, but it was one of the things he loved about her. Forcing himself to try for her sake, he said, “You knew me well when we played Buffy Gruffy the other night. You did not even have to sit on my lap to know me.”
“Maybe I wanted to sit in your lap. For the game,” she added heavily. “To be certain. It was only so I could win. It was not for enjoyment.”
If he was trapped here for a few hours, he could be cross and pensive, or he could do what he set out to do, which was spend a quiet afternoon with Elizabeth.
Darcy stroked her cheek, giving her a more sincere smile. There was no sense sitting here miserable and angry when he was with her. “Did you know the liveliness of your mind bewitched me, dearest?”
“Well, my beauty did not attract you, so I am glad you found something to help you go on.”
He would be teased for calling her “tolerable” for the rest of his life. “You are captivating, inside and out, and my not seeing that instantly at Meryton says more about my want of abilities than your lack of beauty.”
“I must lock you up more often,” she said, grinning. “You say such pretty things when you are trapped.”
“Then I will give you another reason to want to keep me to yourself as often as you can: I have something for you. I forgot to give it to you yesterday after your accident. If my asking you to marry me is not proof enough, perhaps this will persuade you that my attraction and love for you is steadfast and of a long duration.”
He handed her a half-crown, with its obverse smoothed and with a hole through it, hanging on a silver chain.
She ran a finger across it as it dangled from his hand. “Was this the half-crown I gave you as payment for my gaming debts?”
“No, I put that specific coin to better use and had it made into something for me.” He drew out that coin that the silversmith bent into a gentle s-shaped curve. “You did not give it to me as a symbol, but I took it as one.”
“You made a love token out of it?” she said with a soft smile. “But now you cannot spend it.”
“That is the point. It proves that I would rather have you than money, a vow to value you above anything else. Besides,” he continued, “I can afford to deface some coins and pay someone to do it because I won at the races yesterday. Octavius won by half a neck and I won thirty guineas at the Derby, and do you know why?”
“You know horses and are skilled at calculating odds?”
He laughed. “No, the jockey wore green, and that is the colour you chose on Tuesday. I told you it was a sound method. Mr Travers ought to adopt it.”
“A fine strategy,” she said with a laugh. “Now you are a rich man.”
Darcy shook his head. “I am richer this week because I have you in my life, not because of any wagers.”
He put the bent token back into his pocket and held out the coin on the chain to her. She took it and turned it over. Most love tokens had the couple’s initials, or the date of a wedding. The half-crown was large enough for a longer inscription, and Elizabeth read it aloud.
I love but one
And only one
And thou art
Only she
Then love but one
And only one
And let that one
Be me.
She looked up at him with sentimental eyes. “Fitzwilliam Darcy, who knew you had a romantic, ardent nature?”
“Keep the secret as best you can,” he said, taking it and clasping it around her neck.
“Did you know,” she said slowly, “I had romantic imaginings of you after I read your letter, after I learnt what you did for my family? Before I even saw you at Woodcote.”
Darcy pretended to straighten the token whilst he tried to steady his breathing. “Did you?”
She made a murmur of agreement. “I never thought I would see you again, of course, or that you would notice me if you did. And I never regretted refusing you at Hunsford. But especially after we got to Woodcote, I did wonder…”
A polite man would stay silent, but one violently in love would want to know. “Wonder what?”
Her cheeks turned pink. “Despite all the rest, you did say that you ardently admired and loved me. I wondered what it would be like, what it would feel like, to be with you.”
His mind jumped to all manner of explicit wonderings. “Elizabeth, you will think me a complete rake, but I had delusions of passion about you since you stayed at Netherfield with Jane.”
Rather than give him a disapproving look, she looked at him with all the ardour and sincerity of powerful emotion.
Darcy cupped her face in his hands and tasted her in long, deep kisses that flared the desire that began burning last night in Elizabeth’s room.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, and he deepened the kiss, delving in to touch her tongue.
She hummed eagerly against his lips, tightening her hold and threading her fingers through his hair.
Elizabeth shifted sideways into his lap, and he slid his hands down over the curve of her waist, pulling her closer.
Murmuring his name, her hands strayed over his back, and Darcy wished every article of clothing between them gone.
He anchored one arm around her waist and let the other hand travel to her breasts.
They were far more restricted than last night, but he kneaded each one and wondered if Elizabeth wanted his mouth on them as desperately as he did.
Suddenly aware of the demands of his body, he pulled away. She dragged in a breath and stared at him. “I am glad you have come around to my way of thinking about how to pass our time.”
Her eager response to his kiss did nothing to help tamp his growing passion. Still, he tried to match her sporting style. “I may as well, since some will assume I kissed you, because they have a prurient mind or love to gossip.”
“Or they sense the attraction between us the same way Julia Metcalfe has.”
He brought Elizabeth’s head to rest on his shoulder and willed his heart to slow down. “She will be jealous of you. A forfeit kiss in a game is nothing like the way I kiss you.”
“Why are we stopping at kissing?”
So much for calming his heart. Or his body. “I can be content with kissing until your name is mine, or even after. However long it takes.”
“What if I am already not content with kissing?”
His body and his mind were now screaming at one another. His mind had to win the argument. “You want to carry this to its ultimate conclusion here?” he said in disbelief. “On this dusty floor, in a space we can scarcely lie down in?”
She sat up and gave a despairing look to their cell of a shaft containing the stairs. “Perhaps not to its ultimate conclusion. But Sir John gave me things to consider that would fall short of that.”