The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (18 page)

CHAPTER
TWENTY-EIGHT

Once again Elizabeth managed to escape the parsonage and the latest sermon from Mr. Collins, while Darcy eluded his aunt’s newest matchmaking scheme. Together they rode out towards the fields and meadows beyond Rosings. And once again upon their return they found themselves headed for the little park.

Darcy helped Elizabeth dismount, and as his hands secured her waist, he lowered her to the ground. Her wide, expressive eyes looked up at him, and she granted him a sweet smile.

He tried to ignore the effect that smile had upon him. Certainly he was capable of restraining himself long enough to spend time in her company without the need to monitor his behaviour.

As if in defiance of that very thought, rather than releasing her, his arms automatically encircled her waist, drawing her body closer to his.

The receding sunlight filtered through the swaying leaves of the surrounding trees and seemed to dance across her face. Her laughing eyes quickly turned serious as he searched their depths. He resisted every urge to forcefully capture her full, generous mouth. Instead, he slowly lowered his head, giving her ample time to deny him, if that was her wish. But he felt no resistance as he moved his mouth towards hers and gently placed a soft kiss upon her lips.

Elizabeth responded to the sheer tenderness of his actions. It was as if every bone in her body had turned to liquid and she seemed to melt into his arms.

As for the kiss itself, it was achingly delicate . . . lingering . . . perfect. Even for a man who rejected the idea of love, Darcy would have to admit, it was the most romantic kiss he could ever recall.

He suddenly pulled back, unnerved and angered by his emotional reaction, for were these not the very feelings he had been trying to avoid? Defying his yearning to caress every soft curve of her body, he now held her at arm’s length and witnessed her look of confusion. But there, reflected in the pools of her eyes, he saw his own dark desire. “It seems all of my struggles to resist you have been in vain, Miss Bennet.”

Any response she might have produced was silenced as Darcy pulled her back into his embrace and brought his lips more imposingly down upon hers. The anger he had just experienced rapidly dissipated and was replaced by something far more agreeable. As perfect in sweetness as their first kiss had been, this one could easily rival it for its fervor. This kiss was anything but gentle; it was forceful, demanding and all-consuming. It was a kiss that conveyed his passion for her in its most primitive form.

His boldness was immediately rewarded as she eagerly returned his kiss, and he lost himself in its fervency.

He struggled with his conscience, but then forced himself not to think, only to feel. Just this once he would allow his passion to surface and give in to this desire for her. For one thing was abundantly apparent: he wanted her. He wanted her as he had never wanted any other woman.

His lips deserted hers, but only to carry on their amorous attack upon the length of her neck. She softly moaned, and the sound she emitted encouraged him to further explore her tempting curves. He caressed the length of her torso, gliding his hand along the firm arc of her hip then moving it upwards until his hand enveloped her full, supple breast.

Her soft gasp should have served as a warning to stop, but it had exactly the reverse effect upon him. He urgently brought his mouth down again upon hers in another devouring kiss, his tongue teasing hers and heightening the intimacy between them. In all his life he had never felt so out of control, as his mouth and hands desperately sought to consume all she was willing to offer.

He felt her hands rest tentatively upon his chest. Her touch was apprehensive, as if she were afraid of the effect it would have on them both. But slowly her inhibitions dissolved. When she, at last, sweetly caressed his body, her inexperienced fondling was more provocative than that of a practiced courtesan. Her beguiling innocence would be his undoing.

The stimulating result of her innocent, exploring touches forced Darcy to break from their kiss. “Sweet Lizzy,” he breathed.

Elizabeth opened her eyes and met his gaze. Her cheeks flushed, immediately displaying her embarrassment as their bright shade of red pronounced judgment over her scandalous behaviour.

Her voice was shaky as she sought to turn away from his unwavering stare. “Mr. Darcy, I . . . I am mortified at my conduct . . . what must you think of me?”

Darcy would not allow her to evade him as he gently turned her face back to his and steadily held her gaze. “Don’t, Elizabeth. Don’t turn away from me,” he breathed. His look grew in intensity, but then his eyes softened, and he suddenly bestowed an uncharacteristic roguish smile upon her. “Surely that was not meant as an apology, for you have made known your great dislike of regrets.”

Her brow crinkled as she glanced up at him with uncertainty. Was he making fun of her, or was it possible he was attempting a tease of his own? Her look bespoke her astonishment.

“As for what I must think of you, Miss Bennet, I think . . . you have thoroughly bewitched me.”

They seemed each to be studying the countenance of the other for several moments, and then Darcy took her hand and led her to one of the benches.

They sat, each lost in their own thoughts, the impact of what had just occurred still not fully apparent in their minds. And yet they both were wholly aware of a marked change in their association.

Despite the slight chill that the setting of the late afternoon’s sun had produced, they lingered in each other’s arms. They sat there silently, each not daring to voice fragile feelings; Elizabeth doubtful that hers would be reciprocated and Darcy afraid to acknowledge his at all, not even to himself.

As a cool breeze drifted over them, he drew her closer. “Are you cold?” he asked, as his hand briskly rubbed the length of her arm to generate some warmth.

“No, with your arms around me, I am quite perfect,” she said. He could not help but silently agree as he lifted her chin to bring her lips to his, savouring the sweetness of her delectable mouth once more.

Early evening forced the afternoon sun to descend behind the horizon in a blaze of orange. Darcy looked around him at the approaching dusk. This was his favourite time of day, watching the sunlight softly surrender to the night.

Reluctantly he released his arms from around her. “We had best return to the house. I am sure we have been long missed by now.”

********

Unsurprisingly the next afternoon found them both again at the stables where Darcy informed Elizabeth of his plans for them for the afternoon. They were to ride far beyond where they had previously ventured to a ridge that was so high that it was rumored that if your eyesight was keen and the weather conditions just right, you could actually see the White Cliffs of Dover.

As they rode out, they passed the copse that obscured their little park, and they unconsciously gave each other a sideways glance. Elizabeth could not help but blush, knowing they would again most likely end their afternoon’s ride in the privacy the little park provided.

The wind carried the faint sound of a voice calling out his name, and Darcy turned. A lone rider galloped towards them, and he smiled at the recognition of his cousin; Colonel Fitzwilliam had finally arrived at Rosings.

“Well, it’s about time!” chided Darcy as his cousin approached. “I have been left to fend off our aunt on my own for quite long enough.”

The colonel smiled knowingly and guided his horse alongside the two others.

“Richard, allow me to introduce you to Miss Bennet. Miss Bennet, my cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam.”

“I have heard your cousin speak of you often, Colonel. I have been anticipating the honour of meeting you.”

The colonel studied her for a long moment. “If memory serves me, I believe I was in your presence once before, at my uncle’s memorial service. Were you not the young lady who assisted my cousin Georgiana?”

“Why yes, Colonel, your recollection is exactly right. But forgive me; I’m afraid I do not recall seeing your face that day.”

“There is no need for apology. I daresay I would be the first to admit your face is far more memorable than mine,” stated the colonel with a good-natured laugh. “It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Miss Bennet.”

They exchanged smiles, and Elizabeth was charmed by his easy-going manner.

“Speaking of Georgiana, Darcy, I hope to visit her soon. I have not seen her in almost six months. I can hardly believe she will soon be eighteen. She seems to have grown up before my very eyes. I trust she is well?” asked the colonel.

“Yes, she is quite well and looks forward to your next trip to Pemberley.”

“As do I,” the colonel earnestly replied.

“So, when did you arrive?” inquired Darcy.

“Just a short while ago. But I barely had time to stretch my legs before our aunt insisted that I find you and return you to the house. She seems to be in high dudgeon, something about your promise to take Anne out for a ride in her phaeton this afternoon.”

Darcy rolled his eyes. Ah yes, he wearily thought, how could he have forgotten? On the previous evening his aunt had been relentless, insisting that he spend some time with Anne. He had known she would never have left him in peace until he had agreed.

Darcy released a sigh of resignation. “I’m afraid we must forego our ride for today, Miss Bennet.”

Her disappointment was equal to his own, as she looked up at him and gave him a regretful smile.

“I would be more than glad to continue on as your guide, Miss Bennet; my cousin can attest to my knowledge of this entire area,” stated Richard.

“I would not wish to impose upon you, Colonel”

“I assure you, it is no imposition.”

She gave a brief glance in Darcy’s direction.

“Well . . . perhaps a short ride, as Florio has yet to take his daily exercise. I would be honoured, sir, if Mr. Darcy does not mind losing your company so soon upon your arrival.”

Seeing no option but to graciously comply, Darcy turned his horse back towards Rosings. “As it seems Anne awaits my presence, I can find no reason to object. I shall see you both later as I understand our aunt has invited the entire parsonage to dine tonight.”

“Yes,” said Elizabeth as she favoured him with a becoming smile. “I am looking forward to it.”

Their eyes lingered a moment before Darcy gave his reins a quick snap and took off towards the house.

Elizabeth and the colonel rode on at a moderate canter, passing several meadows and gardens. As they observed a particularly lovely apple orchard, they slowed their pace, allowing them to indulge in some congenial conversation.

“Are you also a guest of my Aunt Catherine’s?”

“I am here visiting my friend Mrs. Collins at the parsonage. Before her marriage, we were neighbours in Hertfordshire. We both had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Darcy at an Assembly during his visit to Netherfield.”

“Ah yes, I recall Darcy’s letter. He accompanied his friend, Mr. Bingley, I believe.”

“Yes, and I’m afraid he took terrible advantage of Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth with some amusement in her voice.

“How so?”

“As Mr. Bingley happened to seek my sister Jane’s company, he prevailed upon your poor cousin to act as chaperone on many occasions,” replied Elizabeth, now taking some delight in her playful banter regarding Mr. Darcy.

“Well, according to Darcy’s letter, it seems that was not the only manner in which he was prevailed upon during his stay there.”

“Oh? What other dreadful hardships was he forced to endure?” teased Elizabeth.

“Well, it seems a neighbour of Mr. Bingley’s had the temerity to request my cousin’s attendance upon one of his daughters.”

Elizabeth’s smile remained frozen in place for a moment, and then it slowly disappeared as her mind processed the colonel’s words.

“Are you saying that a gentleman in Hertfordshire asked Mr. Darcy to call on his daughter?”

“As astonishing as that may sound, I believe that is exactly what occurred. It seems the young lady was afflicted in some physical manner, and Darcy felt sorry for her, acquiescing to the gentleman’s request.”

“He . . . he befriended her out of pity?”

“Pity is such a severe word; let us just say it was out of sympathy for the young lady’s situation.”

“Yes I, too, find the word pity rather harsh,” said Elizabeth softly. “In fact, I would say it is one of my least favourite words,” she murmured as she valiantly fought off tears.

She paused a moment, taking in a deep shaky breath as she tried to rationalize her jumbled thoughts.

“But knowing Mr. Darcy, I am sure he would not have been so diligent if he had not found
some
enjoyment in the commission of his task,” she stated as her voice began to quiver.

“Perhaps, but if that were the case he would not have expressed his great relief in returning to London and extricating himself from the situation.”

Elizabeth’s face seemed to drain of its colour, and her breathing became short gasps for air. “Are you unwell, Miss Bennet?”

“I . . . I guess I was overly ambitious in my attempt to know more of the countryside. Perhaps I have learned enough for today. May we turn back?”