Chapter 1.12 #4
The evening passed in much agitation and considerable torment for Mrs Bennet and everyone else in the house.
Mr Bingley’s interview with Mr Bennet was quite short and completely satisfactory for both gentlemen.
Immediately thereafter, the wonderful news was announced to Mrs Bennet, and for a moment, she seemed to faint in happy distress.
Fortunately, she soon recovered, and her loudly expressed satisfaction overwhelmed Mr Bingley, who was embraced frequently, warmly and maternally.
Miss Jane Bennet was glowing in complete happiness; every time she passed near Elizabeth, she whispered how fortunate she felt and wondered how she would ever be able to bear so much felicity. Elizabeth smiled at her in loving understanding. Her own felicity was difficult to bear.
The ladies retired to prepare for dinner, and of course, the gentlemen were asked to join the family—an invitation they accepted gladly.
The guests were seated at the table on each side of Mr Bennet, and—to Darcy’s delight—Elizabeth took the place next to him.
The evening passed unmarked by anything extraordinary except Mrs Bennet’s exuberance, which increased when Mr Bingley announced plans for a ball within two weeks’ time.
From that moment, she spoke of little else except the beautiful bride Jane would be and the perfect wife she would make.
To his utter shock and complete delight, while he was speaking to Mr Bennet, Darcy felt Elizabeth move slightly closer to him.
Without thinking, he stretched his leg to the right and touched hers.
He felt her tense for a moment, but then she relaxed and even joined the gentlemen’s conversation.
She never withdrew her leg from his during the entire dinner.
Furthermore, as nobody seemed to pay much attention to them, their fingers brushed against each other more than once while they ate—as if by mistake—and Darcy’s eyes were captured by Elizabeth’s lips, wet from the sweet, red wine.
Not as sweet and as red as her mouth, he said to himself, and the desire of actually tasting her lips again become intensely painful.
“Do you know at what time you will call tomorrow, sir?” whispered Elizabeth when her father was conversing with Mr Bingley.
“As soon as it is proper for a call,” he answered with the same low voice. “But perhaps we should talk more about that tomorrow morning,” he added, and she looked at him inquiringly. Then she blushed as she understood his meaning.
“Very well, sir.”
She could not say much as she was afraid she would betray her emotions.
In a deep part of her heart, there was still a shadow of fear and doubt that her felicity would last. She was still incredulous that everything that occurred that day had truly happened: that he finally proposed and she accepted, that Georgiana shared their happiness, and that Jane and Bingley were engaged.
Could such perfect bliss be real and everlasting?
Yet, it must be true—if for nothing else than the proof of his strong leg pressing intimately against hers—and she shamelessly and wantonly enjoyed the novel sensations that rose inside her from the touch of his body.
And his lips—which now took small sips of wine from his glass—his lips so demanding yet so tender, capturing her mouth, exploring it…
She became dizzy; countless chills made her shiver as she burned inside. She rushed to take her glass and almost dropped it; his hand reached to catch the goblet, covering her hand with his own.
“Miss Bennet, are you well?”
“Yes…yes, Mr Darcy, I am quite well, thank you.” She felt his stare fixing her profile, but he said nothing more, for which she was grateful.
She drank a little wine and then asked for cold water and swallowed it quickly.
When she dared to look at him from the corner of her eye, she saw a hidden smile twisting his lips.
“Is there a reason for your amusement, sir?” she inquired, trying to sound light and teasing.
“Oh, of course there is, Lizzy,” Mrs Bennet interrupted from the other side of the table. “You are so distracted this evening that you almost dropped the glass. It would be very nice indeed to spill the wine over Mr Darcy now that he seems to be more amiable.”
Elizabeth found nothing to say at such a statement and returned her attention to her plate. If her mother only knew how amiable Mr Darcy truly was!
By the end of the evening, despite some other embarrassing moments, Darcy and Elizabeth had become masterfully skilled at fully enjoying each other’s closeness and stealing moments of sweet privacy in a room full of people.
The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed; the unacknowledged were silent—but they needed no words to express their feelings.
They knew as much as they felt how happy they were, and everything that was left unsaid between them would be most eloquently expressed the next morning when they would again meet in the grove.
As much as Darcy was eager to speak to Mr Bennet and ask for his consent, he was even more eager to hear and feel the daughter’s consent again—many times over.