Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (3 page)

Never had she experienced this
level of intimacy with a man. Never had she felt such protectiveness,
belonging, and unity. Never had anything, or anyone, felt so
right
.
Remaining thus entwined longer than propriety would dictate, the sensations
educed by the embrace were indescribable. He radiated heat, his heart beating
powerfully under her ear, and his arms firmly but tenderly encompassed her
body. Combined, it created a haven she never wanted to leave.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered hoarsely,
as his lips brushed the top of her head and warm breath tingled across her
scalp. She recognized reluctance as he clasped her elbows and gently pushed her
away from his body. Looking up, she noted his joyous smile and gleaming eyes.
He wiped a lone tear off her cheek, eliciting a fresh wave of heat that made
her gasp. The smile did not lessen, but a hint of sober intent muted the
brightness within his eyes.

“Miss Elizabeth, is your father
currently at home? With your permission, I would like to speak with him as soon
as possible.”

“He is at home, yes. And you have
my permission, Mr. Darcy—wholehearted and unwavering.”

He was taken aback at the vehemence
in her voice, she could tell, and before he glanced away, she detected a flash
of—Doubt? Disbelief? Fear? Instantly she understood his conflicting
emotions. Goodness knows she had given scant reason to anticipate her exuberant
response. Perhaps patience and time were required to wholly convince him of her
love, but there never had been a challenge Elizabeth Bennet did not rise to.

A good place to start was eagerly
taking the arm he offered and steering determinedly toward Longbourn and Mr.
Bennet. It was difficult to collect her thoughts, however, due to the closeness
of his body as they walked. She did not feel shy or uncomfortable. Rather, her
senses were acutely aware of his presence—the musky cologne and faint
smell of horse emanating from his jacket, his exposed neck and glimpse of
chest, how the damp linen shirt clung to his muscles, and the sheer height and
breadth of his figure were more than enough to hamper logical thinking. Add to
that his constant sidelong glances that clearly had him as captivated and
addled, and it was easy to fathom why her head spun.

“Do you prefer to be called
Fitzwilliam, or do you have another name?” she inquired abruptly, as startled
as he by the unexpected question and interruption to the silence.

“My full name is Fitzwilliam
Alexander James Darcy,” he replied calmly. “James was my father’s name, and
Alexander was his brother. Fitzwilliam was my mother’s maiden name. It is the
surname of my uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Consequently there are quite a few
Fitzwilliams about at family gatherings.” He laughed, the sound beautiful to
her ears, and she mentally noted to tell him so. “My cousins are often addressed
as Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam is my cousin. Did you know this?”

“You mentioned it once. In your
letter.” She murmured the last, gazing momentarily at the ground before shaking
off the unpleasant remembrances.

“Richard, that is Colonel
Fitzwilliam, is two years my senior, but we grew up together and have always
been friends as well as relatives. To answer your question, my family all call
me William. It is what I prefer, although I think you, dearest Elizabeth, could
call me by any name and I would find it delightful.”

“Your family is so illustrious.
Mama will be pleased,” she teased, ducking her head to hide the rosiness that
had risen in her cheeks at his last statement. “Lords and ladies abounding!”

His smile faltered and tone grew
somber. “Yes, although, I fear my Aunt Catherine has proven how a title does
not indicate worth—or an assurance of proper manners. What she did was
unpardonable, Elizabeth, and I apologize for any pain she caused.”

“An apology is not necessary,
especially when the event led to this positive conclusion. Besides, it livened
up the dreariness of a normal day at Longbourn. Nothing quite as effective as
an argumentative confrontation to upset the boredom!”

“Indeed,” he chuckled, his
expression both amused and proud. “Fortunately, you will discover my uncle and
his wife quite different. They will adore you, I am certain.”

The radiant smile breaking over his
face rendered her breathless, her rapt attention to his countenance distracting
from careful attention to her steps over the uneven terrain. She faltered,
Darcy immediately steadying her, with one hand gripping her elbow while the
other slipped around her waist. The rescue brought her even closer to his body.

“Are you well, Elizabeth? Steady
now.”

Neither moved. His eyes were inches
from hers, Lizzy unable to do more than nod. She had always been captivated,
even in her annoyance and pretended indifference to him, by how penetrating his
gaze was. His vividly blue eyes, fierce as a raptor’s and burning with
intelligence, never failed to intrigue her, especially in how they would darken
when fixed on her—exactly as they did now. Previously she had erroneously
decided it was disapproval and disdain. Now she understood the staring and the
reaction were about his enthrallment, love, and…passion? Desire for her?

Blushing from the heat surging
through her body, Lizzy tore her gaze away and resumed walking. Injecting a
normal, jesting tone, she said, “Proper manners or otherwise, having peers of
the realm as relatives will win you points with my family! Mama, especially,
will likely faint dead away, so be sure you lead with that fact.” Her laugh
faded when she glanced to see him trailing a step behind, his expression grave.
“Mr. Dar…William? Whatever is the matter?”

“I love hearing you speak my name,
Elizabeth,” he whispered.

“How providential that you do,
since you will be hearing it so uttered for the rest of my life!” She
unthinkingly lifted a finger to the tiny furrows between his brows, rubbing
lightly. “What troubles you, William?”

Catching her hand and kissing her
fingers, he held on and resumed walking. After some minutes of silent
contemplation, he spoke slow and deliberate. “I am well aware of the fact that
I made a poor impression on the citizens of Hertfordshire, aided partially by
Mr. Wickham but primarily due to my own surliness. Frankly, I remain
dumbfounded that you have not only managed to see past my errors and attitude,
but have also grown to…care for me.”

Lizzy frowned at his pause, sensing
he started to say
love
but caught himself.

“Mr. Bennet has no reason to
approve of me as a suitor—wealth or family connections notwithstanding—nor
do I wish him to render his approval based on those inconsequential facts. It
is imperative, Elizabeth, that he knows I love you and deem your happiness of
the utmost importance.”

She touched his chin with her
fingertips and forced his gaze to hers. “Mr. Darcy, my father is a reasonable
man. Be honest, as I know you only can be, and say to him what you have said to
me. He will not refuse you, especially after hearing my feelings on the
subject.”

He searched her eyes, still
frowning. “Does he know what happened…with us…at Rosings?”

“No one knows about that but me and
you.”

His brows arched. “Not even Miss
Bennet?”

“No, I never told anyone. Did you?”

“My cousin suspected and knows
pieces. Only Georgiana knows fully. She extracted the information as only she
can. In truth, I was a bit of a wreck after Rosings, and she was worried.” He
shook his head, but before Lizzy could ask what he meant by being a wreck, he
laughed.

“What do you find amusing, sir?”

He caressed one fingertip over her
cheek, eyes sparkling with mirth. “It is humbling. I manage a vast estate and
intricate affairs of business, domestic and abroad, without flinching. Yet,
here I stand, daunted by the prospect of a confrontation with a country
gentleman. Of course, not one of those ventures has ever been as critical to my
existence as this one.”

“I suspect you are brave enough to
handle my frightening father, Mr. Darcy.”

“We shall see. It will be a test of
my worth as a husband to someone as brave, forthright, and independent as you,
Miss Elizabeth.” He lifted her hand for a firm kiss, his eyes amused and
serious at the same time. “Elizabeth, I love and respect you more than I can
express. It is vitally important that you understand how valuable your opinion
is to me. I want to talk to you, at length and honestly, about Rosings, my
letter, Lady Catherine, Bingley and Miss Bennet, my abominable behavior, and
the rest, so there will be no further miscommunications or…discord between us.
Presently we do not have the time, as I dare not keep you alone for much
longer. If you have any doubts or wish to wait until we can discuss—”

“No,” she interrupted emphatically.
“I have no doubts. Nor do I need to consider further or discuss unpleasantness
from the past. I know my heart, and I
do
love
you,
Mr. Darcy. The
rest can be dealt with, if it must, later. For now, the only important task is
to face my father. I shan’t let you back out simply because he is a terrifying
individual!”

Darcy chuckled at her jest, his relief
evident even if he still looked mildly amazed. Then he squared his shoulders
purposefully, squeezed her hand, and turned toward the house visible through
the trees. “Come then, Miss Elizabeth, my love. Our destiny awaits!”

* *
*

Lizzy waited in the empty corridor
while Mr. Darcy remained closeted with her father in his library.
They have
been talking for nearly an hour!
She bit her lip nervously, paced several
steps down the hall before turning to pace back, glared sternly at Kitty and
Mary—who were peeking through the parlor doorway—and attempted to
ignore her mother’s incessant declarations of shock.

By a miracle, she and Mr. Darcy had
entered the house without encountering a single Bennet. They made it to Mr.
Bennet’s library door undisturbed, and it was as Lizzy knocked on the door,
after squeezing the hand of the nervous man she hoped to soon be officially
betrothed to, that Mrs. Bennet rounded the corner. Her gasp jolted both of
them, but before either could respond or release the hand they clutched, the
door was pulled open to reveal an equally astonished Mr. Bennet.

His gaze lowered to their hands—Darcy
dropping Elizabeth’s as if it were a hot brand—and the stunned expression
rapidly evolved into a stern glare.

“I see you have matters of
importance to discuss, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet flicked his gaze to Lizzy’s
flushed face and then back to Mr. Darcy’s composed one.

“I do, sir. If it is not an
inconvenience, I beg your indulgence in granting me an audience without delay.”

“Without delay, is it? Hmm. Very
well. Elizabeth, stay close. I will be talking to you next.” And after only the
barest of glances from Mr. Darcy, she was left standing in the corridor.

The silence lasted half a second
before her mother shrilly asked what was going on. Only the fear of Mr. Darcy
overhearing Mrs. Bennet’s confusion over Lizzy choosing
that man,
with
his arrogant attitude and unpleasant personality, prompted Lizzy to leave the
area. Jane was the only one who made any attempt to listen and support, but
even she was clearly flabbergasted at the idea of Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Finally,
after some fifteen or twenty minutes of questions and berating from her mother
and sisters, Lizzy threw up her hands in defeat and ordered them to stay in the
parlor.

Nervousness at what was transpiring
behind the closed door mixed with dismay over her family’s reaction to the
news. Furthering her anxiety were bleak thoughts as to what it portended.

Lizzy had all but forgotten the
general opinion of Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire. Even when he alluded to it while
walking back to Longbourn, her happiness overrode the concerns. The majority of
local citizens she had known since birth, some especially dear friends. Thus it
was a worthy goal to convince them of Mr. Darcy’s excellent character and the
truthful reasons for marrying him. Hopefully she would succeed, but if she
failed, so be it. 

When it came to her parents and
sisters, indifference was not an option. Based on the immediate reaction to her
news, gaining their acceptance and understanding might prove tougher than she’d
imagined! As for her father, Lizzy knew of his preference for her and anguished
over causing him distress. Would he believe she was unwise in choosing Mr.
Darcy? Would he easily grant approval, as she had assured Mr. Darcy?

Abruptly, the door burst open. Mr.
Darcy breezed out, and Lizzy was so tightly wound that she sped right past him.
Halfway through the door, she turned. He smiled wanly, his expression
indecipherable. He did not appear distraught—nor overjoyed. His general
demeanor was one of exhaustion. She smiled encouragingly, mouthed
I love
you,
and shut the door.

Mr. Bennet was agitated as she had
rarely seen him. The first words out of his mouth made her wince. “Lizzy, are
you out of your senses? Mr. Darcy? Have you truly accepted his proposal? Have
you not professed your hatred of him time and again?”

She lost track of the minutes
passing after that opening. Her need to thoroughly explain all that had
transpired between them was of the utmost importance. Tearfully, she assured him
of the intense love she felt for Mr. Darcy, enumerated with vigor his numerous
excellent qualities, related what he had done to prove his devotion to her, and
spoke of his constancy and patience. She did not give the finer details of his
first proposal at Rosings, saying only that she refused because she had not
loved him at the time. Lizzy feared Mr. Darcy’s poorly chosen words would
incite Mr. Bennet’s anger as fiercely as it had hers, and when he interrupted
to ask how Mr. Darcy had proposed, the dark gleam in his eyes confirmed her
fears.