Truth about Mr. Darcy (6 page)

She extended her gloved hand to him as she approached, and he took it, lifting it to his lips and bestowing upon it a kiss. His eyes never left her lovely face.

Elizabeth found herself blushing as his ardent gaze almost seemed to reach inside to caress her very soul. After several long minutes of silence, she managed to find her voice. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I trust you are well today?” she asked with a touch of her usual archness.

Darcy did not relinquish her hand and quietly replied, “I find I am very well this morning, Miss Bennet… now that you are come.”

She broke into a beautiful smile. “Why, Mr. Darcy, I remember a time when I had not believed you capable of such pretty compliments.”

He was immensely pleased by her teasing and so answered honestly, “There was a time, Miss Bennet, when I will admit I had not the proper inducement, nor the desire, to bestow such heartfelt sentiments, but it seems my existence needed only the addition of a particular lady of my acquaintance, whose intelligent eyes have bewitched me, along with her wit, her vivacity, and her unrivalled beauty.”

A lovely blush colored Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she said merrily, “Well then, sir, I should very much like some day to meet this lady of whom you speak. Certainly she must be a rather remarkable creature to inspire such a proper gentleman as you to boldly profess such feelings!”

Darcy’s eyes gleamed, and he said in a low voice, “Truly, for it is she, and she alone, who has taught me how to be alive and not just merely to endure. Now I know such a woman exists for me, here, on this earth, and not just in my dreams; I shall never again be the same as I once was, nor would I ever wish it. I wish only for her…always for her.” His voice was now hardly more than a whisper. “Elizabeth, what you have done to me?”

Elizabeth could not help but be affected by his words and his emotion, and stood entranced, unable to tear her gaze from his. As Darcy held her in thrall, drawing ever closer, one hand sliding up her arm to rest upon her shoulder, the other still grasping her hand, she felt his warm breath against the coolness of her skin and shivered in anticipation of what she knew was surely to follow. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her lips parted. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. It was but a moment later when she felt the exquisite sensation of his lips as they tenderly pressed upon her own. She returned the gentle pressure with feeling, and Darcy deepened the kiss. Elizabeth could not prevent the soft sigh of pleasure she breathed into his mouth as Darcy’s fingers made their way from her shoulder to the delicate flesh of her neck. She felt her knees begin to grow weak, and before she knew what she was about, she found her hands slipping to his broad shoulders. She was beginning to understand what he meant.

The two unmarried gentlemen from Netherfield were prevented from meeting with the two eldest Miss Bennets until the very evening of the Netherfield ball. In addition to a seemingly endless succession of cold rain, which had lasted a full four days, both households were thrown into somewhat of an uproar—Netherfield with final preparations for food and flowers, decorations and dancing; and Longbourn with the preoccupation of gowns and gloves, slippers and silk.

Darcy, who had long been in the habit of riding out nearly every morning for the sheer enjoyment of the exercise and, lately, to meet with Elizabeth—to say nothing of the added means of escaping Caroline Bingley’s effusive attentions—instead found himself imprisoned by the inclement weather. Unable to take any pleasure while indoors at Netherfield so long as Elizabeth was, likewise, confined to Longbourn, he spent the bulk of his time avoiding his friend’s shamefully persistent sister, seeking refuge in the library or the billiard room, where he was able to commiserate with Bingley in relative safety.

Elizabeth had never derived enjoyment from remaining indoors for prolonged periods of time, particularly in the trying company of her mother and younger sisters, and found herself longing for the solitude and opportunity for quiet reflection her early morning rambles often afforded her. She sighed with frustration every time her mother scolded her for hiding herself away in her room, insisting, instead, she spend her time more productively by sitting with Mr. Collins and encouraging his unwanted attentions.

At times like these, Elizabeth could not help but think wistfully of Darcy, with his soft lips, his penetrating eyes, and his intelligent discourse, knowing full well she would much rather be encouraging
his
attentions. With no hope of escape, she endured her confinement with such forbearance as she could manage under the circumstances, though her patience was certainly pushed beyond its limits when a simpering Mr. Collins solicited the honor of her hand for the first two dances the following evening.

***

Happily, the morning of the Netherfield Ball dawned clear and crisp, promising an evening very much the same. Carriage after carriage rolled up to Netherfield’s front entrance, which had been illuminated by torchlight, to deposit several hundred elegantly attired guests with great efficiency. Nearly the last of the parties to arrive, the Bennets were greeted graciously by Bingley and less so by his sisters. Positively beaming, their host wasted no time offering one arm to Jane and the other to Elizabeth. Without further ceremony, he ushered them into the ballroom.

As a guest in Bingley’s home, Darcy felt it would have been inappropriate to stand with the members of the family as they greeted each of their arrivals in turn, and so chose instead to await Elizabeth’s arrival in the ballroom. Though he had been learning to mix more agreeably in the somewhat smaller drawing rooms of Hertfordshire Society, he still found it difficult to move easily among larger crowds. Darcy had never felt completely at ease in a ballroom, and as such, he reverted, however unconsciously, back into his more reserved and haughty self, taking up a station in the farthest recesses of the room, where he hoped he might garner the least amount of notice.

When Darcy saw Elizabeth finally enter on Bingley’s arm, he froze. Wearing a low-cut gown of creamy silk that seemed to cling to her inviting curves in a most flattering manner, Elizabeth was breathtaking. Her hair was arranged in a far more elaborate style than she usually wore, and intertwined throughout the mass of dark curls piled high upon her head, there were silk roses that had obviously been fashioned with great care to complement her gown.

Darcy felt he would be content simply to gaze upon her all night, but as Bingley approached and presented her to him, he somehow managed to shake off his stupor and step forward to receive her, applying a gentle pressure to her gloved hand as he raised it to his lips.

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, with a small, enigmatic smile.

“Miss Bennet,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze from the vision of loveliness she presented, “you look absolutely stunning this evening.”

Elizabeth felt a familiar pull deep within as she returned his admiring gaze with equal feeling. “Thank you. You look very handsome, as well.” She spoke the words softly, her throat suddenly dry.

Bingley, grinning with satisfaction, left Elizabeth staring at his friend while he escorted Jane to the middle of the room to open the ball.

The first half of the evening, save for Elizabeth’s obligatory dance with an incompetent and overzealous Mr. Collins, afforded the couples much pleasure.

Bingley, who was far more captivated by Jane than he was by his role as host, threw caution to the wind by dancing as many dances with his angel as the space of one evening would allow, while trying not to cause overt offense to any of the other young ladies in attendance.

Darcy, who was not normally inclined to dance, found immense pleasure in the act so long as Elizabeth was his partner. He found himself soliciting her hand repeatedly just to be close to her until, after their third dance partnered together, which had caused many a curious eye to turn upon them, Elizabeth finally laughed and teasingly chided him for his total disregard for ballroom propriety.

He reluctantly danced the next set with Jane while Elizabeth partnered with an attractive officer who clearly admired her. Darcy found himself watching them with increasing displeasure until his jealous glare was met by Elizabeth, whose sparkling eyes gave him such a look of chastisement that he actually blushed. Jane, apparently far from offended by Darcy’s preoccupation with her most beloved sister, smiled gently at his contrition and engaged him in conversation. To the relief of all, Wickham was reported to have been sent to London on business for Colonel Forster and, therefore, was not in attendance.

When supper was announced, Darcy steered Elizabeth past a perspiring and genuflecting Mr. Collins, taking care to settle her between Jane and himself, and at some distance from the rest of her family. The two sisters were flushed from the exertion of having danced every dance, but the exercise only succeeded in brightening their eyes and adding a healthy glow to their complexions, which the gentlemen greatly admired.

During the first course, the buzz of constant conversation filled the room, but to Elizabeth’s mortification, she was able to distinguish her mother’s shrill voice as she spoke loudly to one of their neighbors of Mr. Collins. “Ah, yes! He is a most agreeable young man! He first admired Jane, you know, but Bingley was there before him. He has since taken quite a fancy to Lizzy, though, and has been
excessively
attentive to her, paying her every courtesy.” She then leaned closer to her companion and said smugly, “We are expecting him to make her an offer of marriage any day now! Of course, Mr. Collins does not have
five thousand a year
like Bingley, but I must say
his
income shall do well enough for Lizzy, for you know she is not half so handsome as Jane, nor such a favorite among the officers as my dearest Lydia!”

Catching the entirety of this conversation and having just taken a mouthful of wine, Darcy nearly choked himself. He recovered quickly, however, and wasted no time turning his gaze severely upon Mrs. Bennet.

Bingley, as well, could not help but stare, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open in shock.

Jane sat stiffly at his side, conversing with Charlotte Lucas while struggling to maintain her serene composure.

Elizabeth was beyond mortified. In fact, she wanted nothing more than to escape. Darcy’s reaction to her mother’s ill-bred comments had not been lost on her. With a sudden stab of alarm, she wondered how enthusiastic he would be to continue their courtship after bearing witness to such a display of vulgarity. At the thought of the possibility of Darcy withdrawing his suit after the enjoyable fortnight they had shared, Elizabeth felt a sudden, insurmountable pang of regret. She felt her eyes suddenly grow moist, and while his attention was still fixed firmly upon her mother, she silently slipped away.

Shivering on the balcony just off the ballroom, Elizabeth stood alone as silent tears rolled down her cheeks. She chided herself for not having thought to bring her wrap, when she heard the soft click of the French doors. She looked up in surprise to see Darcy striding purposefully toward her, holding the very article she had been wanting just moments before. As he draped it across her shoulders, she noticed how his hands seemed to linger over the act.
Surely he must be thinking this will be the last time he will touch me so,
she thought with no small degree of bitterness and a heavy heart,
for how could he ever willingly seek my society after such an outrageous display?
She murmured her thanks and quickly turned away to blink back a fresh set of tears that threatened to fall. How would she be able to bear it when he finally withdrew his affection? For it was now becoming frighteningly clear to her that her heart was no longer untouched.

“Miss Bennet, will you not look at me?” he asked, his voice soft and full of concern. To Elizabeth, his tenderness only served to make their imminent parting all the more painful, and she walked several paces from him to stand by the railing, struggling for the ability to project some small semblance of composure.

Darcy was confused by her withdrawal, and it was not long before a sinking sensation began to invade his body. He forced his suddenly leaden legs to move in her direction so he could stand behind her. When he spoke, his voice betrayed his anxiety. “Miss Bennet—
Elizabeth
—have I done something tonight to cause you offense?”

Elizabeth gave a soft, rueful laugh and answered him. “No, Mr. Darcy. Not at all. You have been a perfect gentleman and a delightful companion all evening. As a matter of fact, I have very much enjoyed your company, sir, though I cannot help but wonder whether you might still find
my
society quite so acceptable?”

He was surprised. “Of course. Why ever would you think otherwise?”

She took a deep breath and said with some bitterness, “I am certain it has not escaped your notice, sir, that my mother is not the most tactful, nor the most discreet conversationalist.”

A small smile of comprehension turned up the corners of Darcy’s mouth. “Ah. No. I must agree with you that she is most decidedly
not
. Nor, may I add, is she the most observant.” He paused to press himself closer, and she felt his warm breath upon her neck and shivered. “I was actually rather offended by one comment she made in particular.”

“Only
one
, sir?” she asked, feeling slightly overwhelmed by his proximity.

His voice was soft and caressing. “Yes, only one. Can you not guess, Elizabeth, which remark might have caused me such offense as to prevent my acknowledging any others?” Elizabeth shook her head, not trusting herself to speak, and Darcy continued: “It was when your mother voiced her opinion that you are not half so handsome as your sister Jane. In this she is gravely in error, because anyone with eyes can clearly see, my
loveliest
Elizabeth, you are ten times more beautiful than any of your sisters. As a matter of fact, I have long since considered you to be the handsomest woman of my acquaintance.”

He placed his hands upon her shoulders and turned her around so she faced him. He was startled to see her tears and the look of absolute surprise upon her face. Gently, he raised his thumb to dry her cheek.
Is it possible she doubts my steadfastness, my utter devotion to her?
he wondered with incredulity. Darcy searched her eyes and soon found his answer. Quietly, he said, “I have been in agony for many weeks over the strength of my feelings for you, Elizabeth—feelings that run so deep I can honestly say I have never before experienced anything even remotely similar for any other woman. You have seen me at my very worst, yet in spite of my reprehensible actions, you have found it in your heart to give me a chance to hope. It is you, and you alone, who have been responsible for
any
happiness I now have. After bearing witness to such, how can you come to doubt the depth of my attachment? Do you have so little faith in me as to believe my most fervent emotions and desires so alterable, and over some ridiculous blunder of your mother’s?”

She opened her mouth with the intention of speaking, but Darcy raised two fingers to her lips in an effort to silence her. “Two weeks ago I asked you to become my
wife
, Elizabeth, and I would gladly drop to my knees before you now and ask again if I thought there was any possibility you would say yes. You have no idea, no idea at all, what you do to me. I will never change my mind about my feelings for you…
never
.” Darcy tilted her chin so he could search her eyes, which were still glistening with emotion. “But I do fervently pray every day I will soon be able to change your mind about becoming my wife.”

His eyes were so deep and expressive, and Elizabeth found herself wondering how she ever could have once mistaken such an ardent look of love and longing for one of cold disdain and indifference. She reached out to him, moved by his words and his devotion to her, and found herself questioning what she had ever done to deserve such admiration from an exceptional man. How could he, even after bearing witness to her mother’s disgusting declarations, continue to want her? Yet, somehow, he did. Elizabeth’s heart flooded with warmth at such a realization.

Resting her gloved hands on either side of his face, she began to trace her fingers over the line of his jaw and the curve of his lips. Darcy closed his eyes and sighed, his breathing becoming shallow. At that moment, she finally realized how extremely fortunate she was—far more fortunate even than Jane.
Perhaps
, she thought with a sudden revelation,
the risks of surrendering my heart to the keeping of such a worthy man would be well worth the rewards to be gained from knowing—and accepting—such an unfathomable love
.