Chapter One #3
Bingley sighed audibly. “Oh! She is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld! But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you, who is very pretty, and I dare say very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you.”
Before he could think clearly, Darcy inquired, “Which do you mean?” Following Bingley’s gesture, he turned to look upon Miss Elizabeth.
His heart jumped, but he withdrew his eyes and coldly stated, “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and I am in no humor to give consequence to young ladies who are slighted by other men.” Although he did not look at Elizabeth, he knew his words literally struck her.
It was as if he experienced her pain. “You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me.”
He determinedly walked off, leaving Bingley to follow his advice. Darcy knew he left Miss Elizabeth with no real cordial sentiments towards him, but he could not permit any awareness between them to blossom.
However, later in the evening, he indulged in a perverted torture when he danced with Mrs. Hurst, setting her in the same quadrille as Miss Elizabeth and her partner.
He circled Louisa and came face-to-face with the lady.
At first, she refused to look at him, but within the dance she placed her hand in his.
A jolt of intimacy shot up his arm, and intuitively he tightened his hold, requiring her to meet his eyes.
As they stepped around each other, their gazes remained locked.
Each time they came together, they dueled for supremacy.
Without realizing she did so, Miss Elizabeth bit her bottom lip, and Darcy watched the moisture form on the inner lobe, wondering what it would be to taste her.
They spoke no words, but he knew her desire soared as tautly as his.
As he passed her for the last time, he imagined roughly grabbing her and pulling her into his embrace. She would fit nicely under his chin, and her lithe curves would be hard to ignore. He watched her head turn and how her neck elongated with the movement. Darcy smiled with the thought.
As the music ended, her voice brought him back to reality. “I assume, Mr. Darcy, that you find our simple assemblage amusing.”
Darcy looked down to find a veil drawn over her expression.
“A man may take pleasure in many things, Miss Elizabeth.” He did not expect the fathomless darkness of her eyes, and subconsciously his fists tightened by his sides.
She appeared prepared to respond, but a touch of her partner’s hand had her turning away. The dance had ended on a sour note.
When Bingley’s party returned to Netherfield, Darcy dreamed of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and they were not the terrifying dreams he often experienced.
Customarily, his dreams held images of blood dripping from open wounds and his inner animal ripping control from him.
The horror of it all would shake his composure for days afterwards.
But after his brief acquaintance with Miss Elizabeth, his dreams were everything but abhorrent.
In them, he pushed a strand of hair away from Elizabeth’s face, and his lips brushed hers.
She stared deeply into his eyes, and Darcy wanted the security he found there.
Then he kissed her passionately, his tongue invading her mouth.
The scene went no further, but a half-awake Darcy replayed it many times until it was right. He felt the kiss—knew her heat.
“Mmm, that is nice.” Surprisingly, he felt alive, more alive than he had known in his lifetime. He felt strong when he imagined holding Elizabeth Bennet in his arms. It was an exquisite torment, something he could desire, but something he could never achieve.
Elizabeth observed him all evening, the consummate master of Pemberley, just as her Aunt Gardiner had described him.
Mr. Darcy thought his actions were above reproof.
The word of how he snubbed her spread through the neighborhood, and her pride clouded any feelings of attraction Elizabeth held for him.
But, like it or not, she possessed a desire to know more of him.
At home, much to Elizabeth’s embarrassment, her mother lamented her daughter’s treatment.
“But I can assure you, Lizzy does not lose much by not suiting his fancy, for he is a most disagreeable, horrid man, not at all worth pleasing. So high and so conceited. He walked here and there, fancying himself so very great!”
Her father commented, “Bingley is open and easy, and he swears by Darcy’s strength of regard and the man’s judgment.
In meeting both, I would say Darcy is the superior.
Bingley is by no means deficient, but Darcy is clever.
He is also at the same time haughty, reserved, and fastidious, and his manners, although well bred, are not inviting.
In that respect Mr. Bingley has greatly the advantage. ”
Elizabeth murmured, “I could easily forgive Mr. Darcy’s pride if he had not mortified mine.”