One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (73 page)

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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Elizabeth looked directly at Mr. Darcy. Her astonishment at the raw emotion of his outcry eliminated any consideration of a response, and she gaped at him, unblinking as his gaze bore through her, insisting on some reply. This moment of mutual staring lasted long, and Darcy, who had always prided himself in being under good regulation, began to realize what he had done. His mind told him that he had gone too far in pressing the matter, but his passionate heart was aflame with the need to have it resolved. H stepped closer to the woman who had captured him. “Please, Elizabeth.” He reached out impulsively and touched her soft cheek.

“Fitzwilliam.” Elizabeth did not realize she had breathed his name as she searched his eyes; the intensity that burned in them caused her to tremble and she finally looked away. “You wear me down sir. How am I to be sensible in the face of such persuasions? How am I to deny you anything?”

“I would not have you deny me.” Darcy's fingers stroked downward lightly until he cupped one side of her face in his hand. She tipped her head slightly into the comforting warmth of his palm
 
as he continued. “But neither do I wish you to bend to my will.”

Elizabeth reached up and removed his hand from her cheek, although she did not release it but instead lowered it to where she could take it in both of hers. “That is very good, Mr. Darcy, for I am assured by my mother that I am willful, headstrong and stubborn to a fault. Did I mention obstinate? That too is numbered among my weaknesses. You could not force me.”

“Oh, there you are wrong.” Darcy said gruffly, drawing closer. “I could very well force you to accept me.”

“I should very much like to know how.” Elizabeth's full attention was on the masculine hand in her grasp.

“Do you not remember when I came to your bedchamber at Netherfield? We were alone for some time in your room and with you in your nightclothes too, with a closed door between the world and us. I believe I shall have compromised your reputation beyond repair—if word of our scandalous liaison were to get out. One word to your father and our fate would be sealed.” This provoked such an expression of alarm in Elizabeth's countenance that he hastily added, “Do not worry—I have no intention of mentioning it, unless....”

“Unless what?” Elizabeth raised a brow.

“Unless Mr. Collins were to make known his own visit to your chambers and claim to have compromised you himself. His threat to do so, although not fulfilled, was made before the colonel could remove him from your chambers.” Darcy shrugged. “Should that happen, then I would have to inform Mr. Collins that I compromised you
 
first
!”

“Oh, dear heavens, that must not happen!” Elizabeth cried with mortification. “I was very nearly unconscious—I had no say in who came into the room!”

“That is not entirely true,” Darcy replied. “I came to your bedside because you called for me.”

“I do not remember calling for you.” Elizabeth retorted. “Much of those first days are not clear.”

“I shall enlighten you at once. You called for me, and I came to you. Now you are compromised, and I must marry you immediately.” Darcy said drily, although a slight grin tugged at his lips on one side.

Elizabeth perceived that he was teasing her and airily replied in kind, “I liked it far better when you were waiting for my answer!”

“I wait still.” Darcy said softly, returning his hand to her face. “In truth, I will wait until you will have me. I am spoilt for anyone but you now, for my own heart, I know, to be as constant as the sun. Once I have given it, it will not be moved. Though heaven and earth fall away, I will be true. I do not care that you have no great fortune or any high connections. I love you and none else. You promised me once that I was safe—that you could not steal away my Apollo, but I was never once safe after I met you, for it is my heart you have stolen. You have bewitched me, Elizabeth, and I am yours forever.”

“That is not fair—you have used my words against me!” Elizabeth said half laughing as she boldly looked into his eyes, astonished to find herself unable to look away once they had met.

“And pretty words they are indeed. I well know the effect they had upon me.” Darcy replied with a cheeky, dimpled grin. “Will you say yes now? I see the answer in your eyes already, dear one, but I must have it upon your lips to be content.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth colored. “My lips?”

“You torment me! It is just one word, Elizabeth. I am beginning to wonder at this obstinacy you are accused of. I think it might be epic.”

“Oh.” Elizabeth murmured defensively. “I am not so
 
very
 
obstinate. Willful, perhaps,....”

Darcy could bear it no longer, and he leaned forward and silenced her ramblings by taking her lips with his own, gently and chastely. It was so quick that Elizabeth barely had time to gasp before he broke away. “Yes,” he prompted, “the word is yes. I must have it.” He leaned in as if to kiss her again.

“Mr. Darcy!” Elizabeth cried softly.

“Fitzwilliam,” he corrected her, his lips a whisper away from hers. “Say yes, Elizabeth.”

“I cannot think.” Elizabeth breathed.

“Do not try.” He nuzzled the side of her face. “Say yes.”

“I will be compromised. This is not proper.” Elizabeth shut her eyes against the sight of him and found herself overwhelmed instead by his scent and his nearness.

“You are already compromised, my dear. This time there is no fever to steal it from your memory. If you love me as you said before, say yes to me now.”

“You are incorrigible,” Elizabeth accused, weakening.

“I am not, but I could be if you wish it.” His lips brushed her cheek. “Say yes.”

“Is this how you will win all of our arguments when we are married?” Elizabeth challenged.

“When we are married?” Darcy ceased his administrations and sat back, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

“Yes.” Elizabeth replied sweetly and echoed it with another, resounding 'Yes.'

At this moment, Darcy's joy could not be concealed from anyone, and he leapt from his chair, pulling Elizabeth to her feet as well. He placed his hands on her shoulders and slid them down her arms to take her hands up in his. He raised them to his lips and pressed several kisses on the back of them, squeezing them lightly. “Elizabeth, how I have dreamt of this day! I will make you very happy. I vow it to be so, for you have this moment delivered me to the very pinnacle of happiness myself! The sun has come out for me!” He kissed her hands again but then grimaced. “I must speak to your father.” He blanched. “What if he denies me consent? In the eyes of Mr. Bennet, am I good enough for you, Elizabeth?”

“I suppose you must find out, Fitzwilliam. He is in his study. Do not concern yourself overmuch; he is not so obstinate as I, but he has been less predictable of late. I think you have some courage and some audacity, which he will enjoy very much—let him see it. If he believes you will entertain him as a son-in-law, you may stand a chance!” Elizabeth smiled in delight at the prospect of Mr. Darcy approaching her father to ask for her hand.

“Fine words of encouragement these are.” He feigned a frown but then brightened. “If he will have Bingley as a son, perhaps he is not such a terror as I thought. I will go, my future wife, and face your father. Now that I consider it, persuading you was more difficult than your father ever may be!”

“I recommend that you not attempt to convince him with a kiss as you did with me. He would not like it!” Elizabeth giggled daintily as she opened the door to allow Mr. Darcy passage to the hallway.

 

 

 

 

Chapter Fifty-Three

 

Terms of Engagement

 

D
arcy had not ventured far past Elizabeth before she called him back. She pressed her crumpled, slightly damp handkerchief into his hand. “Mr. Darcy,” she said when he raised his eyes questioningly to hers, “please take this with you. It is the work of my own hands, as you know, but I think it will give you courage! When my father scowls at you, or smirks, or however he attempts to disarm you, you may think of it and know that I sent you into the lion's den bearing this token of my ... regard for you.”

“Regard?” Darcy repeated as he smoothed the handkerchief out in his hand.

“Yes. It is a token of my ... affection for you.” Elizabeth colored at her boldness.

“Affection?” He carefully folded and tucked it in the inside pocket of his waistcoat. He looked at her expectantly. “It is much more than that to me, dearest Elizabeth. It is an emblem of our certain future; I heartily believe it to be so!
 
Can you not see? The design unconsciously wrought by your hand shall be consciously fulfilled by mine. Regard and affection you say on your part, but for mine, it is a token of love and our future felicity in marriage!”

“That was a sweet speech, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth smiled at him tenderly. “With such sentiments as these on your part, I may never desire the handkerchief returned, but insist that you keep it always as a token of my love, forever tucked away in the pocket nearest your heart.”

Darcy laid his hand over his chest where the handkerchief was concealed. He bowed to Elizabeth, a small smile gracing his lips as he turned and walked quickly down the hall to the door of Mr. Bennet's study. His firm knocking on the door echoed slightly, and Elizabeth could hear her father's deep voice as he bid Mr. Darcy enter. From where she stood, she watched as Mr. Darcy gave a little tug at his cravat before he disappeared from her sight.

~*~

Mr. Bennet's invitation to Darcy to enter was spoken with civility, although it lacked the usual warmth of the patriarch. This formality did nothing to dissuade Darcy from his errand, and he stood before his intended's father quite unaffected by the tone directed at him.

“I wonder, Mr. Darcy, if your purpose in coming here is to inform me of some other scoundrel from the militia who should be avoided by my daughters as it was the last time. That was good of you to warn me about Wickham, although he very nearly ruined my Lydia anyway! Does Denny or Carter now have some design on one of my daughters, eh?” Mr. Bennet looked over the top of his glasses at Darcy and raised his brows in a silent challenge.

“No, Mr. Bennet, the man with a design on one of your daughters is standing before you.” Darcy replied cautiously.

“Oh ho! Mrs. Bennet was right about you! My own dear wife was here in my study but five minutes ago, telling me to prepare for your approach. I will spare you from hearing what she said, but suffice it to say that I shall never hear the end of this, not until I am cold in my grave.” Mr. Bennet grumbled slightly. “She will crow about it endlessly and...,” he trailed off and sat back in his chair, looking up at the tall, proud Darcy, who stood before him. “Port, Mr. Darcy?”

“None for me, sir, but I would not presume to suspend any pleasure of yours. Please yourself, I pray you.”

Mr. Bennet stood and poured himself a glass, pouring one for Darcy too, despite the fact that Darcy had declined. “In case you change your mind,” he said as he moved the cup six inches closer to Darcy. “Let us hear about this design of yours.”

“Mr. Bennet, I have asked Miss Elizabeth to be my wife, and she has agreed. I am here to obtain your consent to wed your daughter.”

“She has no dowry to speak of, Mr. Darcy, nothing to tempt a man such as you.” Mr. Bennet said, as though this response dismissed the topic entirely.

“Of this, I have long been aware.” Darcy replied, “I assure you that I have sufficient income to support your daughter with ease and will grant her a generous allowance in lieu of the proceeds from a dowry as a term of the marriage settlement. You need not fear for her comfort or protection; I am well able to provide both.”

“I do not doubt this.” Mr. Bennet nodded, “My greatest concerns are not strictly monetary. Elizabeth is a country maiden. She has spent almost no time in town, has rarely traveled any distance from Hertfordshire, and has been raised in a society that is confined and unvarying. Should she marry you, the expectations of society in the first circles will create some great pressures, I think.”

“I am certain she will adapt,” Darcy said brusquely. “Miss Elizabeth always behaves impeccably in company. Her comportment will draw no undue attention, I assure you.”

BOOK: One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy
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