Chapter Four #2
For the next two days, they continued with their secret meetings.
Fencing lessons proceeded as before. Elizabeth’s enthusiasm fascinated Darcy.
They laughed. They played. They kissed. At Netherfield, they met in the conservatory, where an out-of-the-way bench held privacy.
There, he and Elizabeth spent time simply enjoying the exchange of ideas.
He had never found anyone as interesting as was she.
Darcy explained his plans for his estate.
He shared his frustrations in raising Georgiana.
Elizabeth spoke of her dreams of traveling, and she acknowledged the “silliness” displayed by her mother and younger sisters.
They were friends. Trust formed between them.
Unfortunately, their time alone became more noticeable to the others.
By silent agreement, around the Bingleys, they still sniped at each other.
Caroline Bingley, vexed by what she could not identify, undermined Elizabeth at every opportunity.
Elizabeth found Miss Bingley’s jealousy amusing and purposely feigned ignorance of rank and consequence.
One particular evening, Caroline’s tactics backfired.
She meant to demonstrate her ascendancy over Elizabeth by walking elegantly about the parlor.
When Darcy refused his attention, Miss Bingley, in desperation, turned to Elizabeth and said, “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room.”
Caroline’s declaration surprised Elizabeth, but accepting the opportunity to befuddle her hostess, she agreed to it, and Darcy smiled despite the impropriety of doing so.
Miss Bingley’s manipulations succeeded no less in the real object of her civility.
Darcy looked up. He was as much aware of the novelty of attention in that quarter as Elizabeth, and unconsciously he closed his book.
Watching Elizabeth Bennet side-by-side with Caroline Bingley would provide him an opportunity to judge how he truly felt about his Elizabeth.
Moreover, how they responded to each other could allay any suspicions.
Having his attention at last, Miss Bingley asked, “Will you not join us, Mr. Darcy?”
He considered how Caroline might feel if he stood and took Elizabeth’s hand and placed it on his arm to walk with her alone. Elizabeth must have understood his thoughts because she stifled a laugh.
Darcy fought his urges. “You could but have two motives in choosing to walk about the room, and I would interfere with both.”
He noted how Elizabeth’s eyes flashed with anticipation.
“Whatever could he mean, Miss Eliza?”
Elizabeth took pity on Caroline. “He means to be severe on us.” She looked at Darcy without purposeful intent. “The surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing of it.”
But both he and Elizabeth knew Miss Bingley was not so easily deterred.
“Oh, please tell us, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley pleaded with a pout.
Darcy leaned deeper into the chair’s cushions.
“I have not the smallest objection to explaining. You either chose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.
” He paused for a dramatic effect. “If the first, I should be in your way. If the second, I can admire you better from here.”
Miss Bingley appeared to be shocked, but he noted how Elizabeth’s shoulders shifted. She was enjoying Miss Bingley’s astonishment.
“How shall we punish him?” Caroline asked Miss Elizabeth.
Elizabeth’s lips twitched in stifled amusement. “Nothing so easy,” she said. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”
He and Elizabeth were certainly more intimate than he and Miss Bingley would ever be.
“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at,” protested Caroline.
Elizabeth inquired lightly, “Then you think him to have no imperfections?” Darcy flinched. It always bothered him to know criticisms.
However, his self-censure died quickly. He felt the intensity of Elizabeth’s eyes on his body, and despite his current angst, he reacted to her scrutiny with an unexpected surge of desire. Elizabeth analyzed him from head to toe, and Darcy felt the tug of his manhood.
“Can a man be so perfect?” she mused. “I wonder what secrets he keeps.”
“I have made no such pretense. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.” Darcy attempted to distract himself from his lust. “My temper I dare not vouch for. It is too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”
“I would not wish to be a recipient of your wrath, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded. “There is, I believe, however, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” She started away from him. “Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”
“Agree, Miss Elizabeth?” He smiled. “We rarely agree.”
“Do you have a need to hate everyone?” she asked with irritation.
Darcy shifted uncomfortably. Hate? All he wanted now was to touch her. “You, Miss Elizabeth, willfully misunderstand me.”
“I will provide you the opportunity, Sir, to convince me otherwise,” she taunted.
Before he could respond, Miss Bingley ended the conversation with a call to her sister for some music. Darcy, reluctantly, returned to his book.
Elizabeth and Miss Bennet would return to Longbourn on the morrow, and Darcy was loath to view his time with the lady to know an end. For their last evening, they took up residence on a settee in the alcove of Charles’s study. The household had been asleep for hours, but they chatted on.
“Do you not see, Elizabeth, Wellesley must make a stand, or Napoleon will march right to King George’s door.”
“But the number of lives!” she protested. “So many men killed.”
“The numbers would be great,” he conceded.
They sat on either end of the furniture.
Darcy stretched out his legs before him.
Meanwhile, Elizabeth draped hers over his lap.
He lightly massaged the arch of her foot.
An outsider might think them as an example of perfect marital harmony.
After a long silence, he spoke the words neither of them wished to say: “You return to Longbourn tomorrow?”
“Jane is well, and we cannot intrude on Mr. Bingley’s kindness any longer.” Impulsively, she tucked her legs under her and sat up straighter. “We leave after services tomorrow.”
Darcy sat up to straighten his waistcoat and jacket. “I see,” he mumbled.
“We knew the end was near.” The silence filled the space between them.
He removed imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Naturally. It was expected.”
Before they could say anything more, they heard someone in the hall. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and plastered herself to the wall so no one would see her. Darcy stepped forward into the room and into the light. “Miss Bingley!” he exclaimed.
“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped. “I did not expect to discover you here. I came for a book, but saw the reflection of the candle.”
Darcy knew she spoke an untruth. Miss Bingley never read unless someone shamed her into it, and she could not see the reflected single candle under the closed door. However, he would not permit the woman to discover Elizabeth.
“I hoped Charles possessed some of that excellent brandy we shared earlier.” He held up the glass he left on the table to indicate the truth of his words. “As you can see, I found it, but now it is late. Why do you not permit me to escort your return to your quarters?”
“We could sit and talk.” Caroline started for a chair. From the corner of his eye, Darcy saw Elizabeth cling closer to the wall, attempting to become invisible.
He sprang forward and caught Caroline’s arm, forcibly turning her as he spoke.
“Miss Bingley, you know such is not possible. It is too forward even for friends, such as are we, to spend time alone, and my breeding will not permit a lady to remain unescorted. I have the candle,” he reached for the one in her hand, “and I insist you permit me to see you upstairs.” He hustled her towards the door.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy, you are most kind,” she said, simpering.
“Think nothing of it, Miss Bingley.”
Darcy despised leaving Elizabeth to find her way to her quarters alone.
On their previous evenings, he took great pleasure in kissing her good night.
Her soft lips left a trail of fire. Such thoughts brought a moan to his lips, but he stifled it.
Leading Miss Bingley to her door, he bid her a pleasant night before returning to his own room.
Inside his suite, Darcy paced his room. Loathing the way he left Elizabeth, he could think of nothing but her.
“I wonder,” he said, running his fingers through his hair as if to clear his mind.
Darcy had never used his “powers,” those he inherited as part of the curse.
Quite unexpectedly, several years prior, he learned he could suspend time.
When he had stumbled upon the aberration after a riding accident, Darcy swore never to use the power again.