Mr. Darcy's Forbidden Love-kindle (63 page)

Elizabeth looked puzzled by his actions. “Are… are you angry?”

Still trying to recover his self-control, he rolled back to face her. Propping upon one elbow, he began to right her clothes, saying softly, “I am angry at myself, not you, sweetheart.”  

Nonetheless, Elizabeth’s expression showed uncertainty, so he leaned down to kiss her as tenderly as possible before raising his head to meet her gaze. “I should never have allowed myself to go so far. Though I desire to make you my own, I must wait until I can honourably do so.”

Her dark eyes seemed to become even darker as she studied him solemnly. Gently stroking her face with his fingertips, he continued, “Otherwise, you could be disgraced, and your father would run me through, and rightly so.”

Her expression changed to one of mortification. “I am sorry. Just because I love you is no excuse to—”

A quick kiss on her lips halted her words. “Never apologise for loving me, Elizabeth. I am a very fortunate man that you have a passionate nature. But you are an innocent, and it falls to me to protect you. I was the one at fault, not you. Forgive me for forgetting myself. I shall endeavour never to let it happen again— until.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a small smile. “Until you are my wife.”

“I fear that I shall be no help to you meanwhile,” Elizabeth confessed. “I find that I love you so dearly that I can be persuaded to whatever you wish the moment your lips meet mine.”

William pulled her into a tight embrace, and very much aware of the promise he had just made, he chuckled as he offered a ragged plea. “Please do not remind me again of that, my love. God knows it is hard enough to resist you as it is.”

Then, again propping on one elbow, he began to work the signet ring off his little finger. Once it was free, he slid it onto each of Elizabeth’s fingers until he ascertained that it would best fit her middle finger, though it was still a loose fit. As they both studied the ring on her hand, he declared resolutely, “You are precious to me, Elizabeth Bennet, and until I can put a proper wedding ring on your finger, I want you to keep this as a symbol of my pledge to you.  I have not removed it since my father presented it to me at the age of one and twenty. Now, whenever I notice it is missing, I will smile, for I will know exactly where it is. It will be with you—along with my heart.”

“Oh, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth murmured, pulling his lips down to meet hers. When she had kissed him thoroughly, she added, “Since, I cannot continue to wear it on my finger, I shall keep it on a chain, so that it rests over my heart.”

“Then I shall envy it, my love,” he responded, placing one last kiss on her perfect mouth. Then reaching for a blanket that was folded at the end of the bed, he covered her. “Now, let me hold you. After tomorrow, I have no idea when we shall see each other again.”

Elizabeth said nothing when he pulled her into his embrace, her back resting against his chest, as she was already pondering his last words. Would they be able to see each other once they were in London? And just what would her Aunt Gardiner say when she learned that she had fled the Wilkens estate with Lady Ashcroft? Only God knew what her mother would do when she was informed. Would she be forced to entertain the attentions of another man like Wilkens?

She sighed.
If I ponder these things tonight, I shall go mad!
No, I refuse to ruin these precious moments with Fitzwilliam by fearing the future. I shall think only of our love for one another.

Immediately, her mind skipped to the feelings that he had awakened in her mere moments before. She could not help but blush at the memory, though no one was about to see.
From all the horrors that mother and Aunt Gardiner told me of the wedding night, I have dreaded it so, but surely our marriage bed will be nothing to fear if it is anything like tonight. 

While she relived all that they had shared, Elizabeth discerned the moment that Fitzwilliam fell into a deep sleep as his warm breath against her neck began a steady pattern, and his arms relaxed slightly. It felt so right that, intending to relish this heaven only a short while longer, she inadvertently drifted off to sleep beside him.

~~~*~~~

Dawn
Ashcroft Park

Other than a few servants, Lady Ashcroft had the house to herself the next morning, since all her guests were still asleep. She was quite content to be alone, as she had wished for some time to ponder the fact that the sorrow she had associated with her home since Joseph’s death had slowly begun to diminish. That she had reached a turning place in her life was undeniable, and she wished to share it with the one who had dwelt in her thoughts almost every day since he was taken from her.

Reaching the long hallway that served as the portrait gallery, she walked swiftly to pause in front of Joseph’s portrait. Though tears filled her eyes, she could not help but smile at the dear face that looked down on her. Never one to dwell on sadness, her husband would not have been pleased that she had shut herself off for so many years—first unwilling to accept the loss of him and their son, then reluctant to expose her vulnerable heart. She had been mistaken, that she would freely admit, but she was unable to change until she met Marshall Landingham. After they became better acquainted, the void in her life became evident, and following his brush with death, she realised just how very much she wanted to be his wife. All of these thoughts ran through her consciousness as she examined Joseph’s likeness and began to speak from her heart.

My darling Joseph, you have always been my ideal.
She smiled lovingly
. Maybe even a bit too perfect, for few have compared favourably to you over the years. But I want you to know that I have met someone that I love and admire in the same manner that I loved and admired you. Thank you, my love, for showing me what constitutes a real man. I shall always cherish what we had, and you shall always hold a special place in my heart. I know you would have wanted me to be happy, and that knowledge is what allows me to take the next step. I am going to marry Marshall Landingham sometime in the next few months.

A sound brought her attention to the end of the hall where a maid was entering a room. Turning back to his portrait, Audrey took one last long look at Joseph before heading towards the foyer. She hoped to find Mr. Parker below stairs and to enquire about her nephew.

When at last she descended the grand staircase, she spied that gentleman coming out of the dining room, and it seemed to her that he tried to hurry in the opposite direction.

“Mr. Parker?” she called out, halting the man’s progress. He slowly turned to face her. “I wish to know if you encountered my nephew when he returned last evening. Was he out all night, or did he get some sleep?”

“Milady, I… I did see Mr. Darcy,” he stuttered, looking sheepish. “He did not return until the early morning hours, I am afraid.”

“I was fearful of that. I shall advise all my guests that we shall postpone our return to London until later this morning. That will allow Fitzwilliam some extra hours to rest before we depart.”

Parker seemed to be looking in every direction but at her, and Lady Ashcroft became suspicious. “Is there something you wish to tell me?”

There was an audible sigh.  “There is, Milady.” He glanced up, meeting her eye. “And I must apologise for not informing you last night.”

Lady Ashcroft motioned towards an open door. “Come. Let us go into the parlour.”

It took only a few seconds for them to enter the room and the door to close. It took only a few more for the door to fly open and the Mistress to rush out. Though she had not displayed any anger towards Mr. Parker—after all, he could not force her nephew do anything—Audrey Ashcroft was greatly disappointed that she had not been informed last night of what had happened. Her position was that it was inexcusable that her nephew had been injured and she had not been told. Marching purposefully to the family quarters, in short order she stood outside Fitzwilliam’s bedroom, though as she lifted her hand to knock, something bid her pause. After all, by Parker’s account, her nephew had very little sleep, and she was about to wake him. Deciding on another means of seeing to his welfare, she turned and went in search of Mrs. Parker.

Finding the housekeeper in her office, Lady Ashcroft attempted to regain her composure as she addressed the woman. “Mrs. Parker, may I have the master keys? I wish to check on my nephew, as I understand from Mr. Parker that he was injured while at the stables last night. I do not wish to wake him, however, if he is still asleep.”

Mrs. Parker, who had not yet spoken to her husband that morning, stood immediately, beginning to search through a pocket in her gown. “Oh dear me!  Of course, madam. Rufus was already on duty when I awoke, so I have not so much as heard of any injury. I pray Mr. Darcy is well.”

She found the small key she was looking for and proceeded to unlock the top drawer of her desk.  Reaching inside, she pulled out a large ring with a number of keys and handed them to Lady Ashcroft.

“Do you wish me to accompany you?”

“No, thank you. It cannot be too serious, or I would have been awakened,” she replied with more certainly than she felt. “I just want to be sure that all is well. I shall return these shortly.”

Very soon she was at the dressing room door that adjoined Fitzwilliam’s bedroom. Her plan was to sneak into his room through the adjoining room, and if he appeared to be well, to depart. His appearance would determine whether she awoke him for examination. Looking both ways down the hall and seeing no one, she opened the door and stepped inside. There were no candles lit, and it was still early, so the room was dark. Carefully she tiptoed to the door that led into his bedroom, and a slight twinge of guilt came over her at the realisation that she was invading his privacy. Pushing that emotion aside, she opened it and was relieved to learn that a small candle glowed somewhere inside. Stealthily she moved towards the bed until the sight that greeted her caused her heart to skip a beat, one hand flying involuntarily to her chest.

In the large four-poster bed, Fitzwilliam lay asleep atop the counterpane, clad only in breeches and stockings. Miss Bennet lay next to him with her back to his chest, dressed only in night clothes and partially covered by a blanket. Not believing her eyes, Audrey crept closer, almost tripping on Mrs. Parker’s bag of remedies which lay on the floor. She blinked in hopes it would prove an illusion, but that was not the case. The stitches in her nephew’s head were plainly visible, though he was fast asleep. Taking a deep breath, the Mistress of Ashcroft Park tried to collect herself, knowing that she must work quickly. It was early, and there was still time to spirit Elizabeth back to her own bed before anyone realised that she had spent the night in Fitzwilliam’s room.

Nearing the side where Elizabeth lay, she reached to shake her lightly and was relieved to see her eyes fly open. Holding a finger to her lips to indicate that they should not wake Fitzwilliam, she watched as the young woman rose, looked lovingly at him for a moment, and then slipped off the bed. Before long, they were both ensconced in Elizabeth’s room without having been found out.

Once the scandal was averted, Elizabeth was left to face William’s aunt. Mortified, her head dropped. “It was not as it appeared.”

Lady Ashcroft stepped to Elizabeth, lifting her chin with a soft touch. “I know my nephew well enough to believe that. Besides, had anything more scandalous happened, I think you would have been under the covers and not lying atop them fully clothed,” she said with a sly smile.

“I confess that something might have happened, had Fitzwilliam not been so honourable. I should not have stayed with him, but I was so worried.”

“You love him and he was hurt. Naturally you wanted to be with him… to see after him.” She sank down onto a comfortable settee, pulling Elizabeth down beside her, and for the first time Lady Ashcroft noticed the ring on the young woman’s middle finger. She reached out to examine it.

“Fitzwilliam’s signet ring.”

Elizabeth offered shyly, “He asked me to wear it until he can give me a wedding ring.”

Audrey smiled lovingly at the woman who would one day become her niece. “That is so like him.” Then she became solemn. “You know it would never do for Gisela to learn that you have his signet. That ring has the Darcy coat-of-arms and is employed to validate letters, contracts and documents of import—it signifies his stamp of approval.”

“I understand,” Elizabeth hurried to explain. “We agreed that I shall wear it around my neck on a long chain so that it rests over my heart.”

“I have a silver necklace that would be perfect.” Audrey patted her hand. “Now tell me about Fitzwilliam’s injury? Parker mentioned that he had suffered a serious gash and that he could not convince my nephew that he needed stitches, but it is evident that he has them now.”

“I… I was able to convince him of that.”

“Thank goodness! But who did the stitches? When I spoke with Mrs. Parker, she was unaware that he had even been injured.”

Blushing crimson, Elizabeth focused on her slippers. “I did. You see, I have been stitching up my father’s hounds for years and—”

The sound of heartfelt laughter filled the room, and Elizabeth glanced over to see William’s aunt covering her mouth as she chuckled. It caused the tension in her shoulders to dissolve, and she began to smile. Then, she shared with his aunt all that had happened since she had seen Fitzwilliam returning from the stables.

Well… almost everything. 

~~~*~~~

Meryton
Longbourn

As Charles Bingley neared the front entrance of Longbourn astride one of his favourite stallions, he was surprised to find that no one came running to greet him. Most of the time the younger girls would be the first to spy his approach and alert the rest of the family. With Jane and her mother in London, he felt sure that Lydia and Kitty would notice his arrival and rush to escort him into the house as was their usual manner. However, oddly enough, today no one had appeared by the time he had dismounted other than a groom who materialized out of thin air to take his horse. Nodding at the young man who claimed the reins, Charles was surprised to find Mrs. Hill standing in the doorway when he turned towards the front entrance. She was intently focused on wiping flour-covered hands on her apron in an attempt to clean them.