Pride and Prejudice (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (41 page)

“Had you then persuaded yourself that I should?”

“Indeed I had. What will you think of my vanity? I believed you to be wishing, expecting my addresses.”

“My manners must have been in fault, but not intentionally, I assure you. I never meant to deceive you, but my spirits might often lead me wrong. How you must have hated me after
that
evening?”

“Hate you! I was angry perhaps at first, but my anger soon began to take a proper direction.”

“I am almost afraid of asking what you thought of me, when we met at Pemberley. You thought it very wrong of me in coming?”

“No indeed. I felt nothing but surprise.”

“Your surprise could not be greater than mine in being noticed by you. My conscience told me that I deserved no extraordinary politeness, and I confess that I did not expect to receive more than my due.”

“My object then,” replied Darcy, “was to show you, by every civility in my power, that I was not so mean as to resent the past. I hoped to obtain your forgiveness, to lessen your ill opinion, by letting you see that your reproofs had been attended to. How soon any other wishes introduced themselves I can hardly tell, but I believe in about half-an-hour after I had seen you.”

He then told her of Georgiana’s delight in her acquaintance, and of her disappointment at its sudden interruption; which naturally leading to the cause of that interruption, she soon learned that his resolution of following her from Derbyshire in quest of her sister had been formed before he quitted the inn, and that his gravity and thoughtfulness there had arisen from no other struggles than what such a purpose must comprehend.

She expressed her gratitude again, but it was too painful a subject to each, to be dwelt on farther. Besides, there was no more reason to speak of it. Each understood the other perfectly on the matter and it was forever settled.

After walking several miles in a leisurely manner, and too busy to know anything about it, they found at last, on examining their watches, that it was time to be at home.

“What has become of Mr. Bingley and Jane?” Elizabeth asked, realizing it had been quite some time before she bothered to look back to see if her sister still followed. This introduced the discussion of her sister and Bingley’s affairs.

“Bingley wrote to me with the earliest information of it. I am delighted with their engagement and believe they will be as happy as any couple with such goodness in them must be,” Darcy said.

“I must ask whether you were surprised?” Elizabeth inquired.

“Not at all. When I went away, I felt that it would soon happen.”

“That is to say, you had given your permission. I guessed as much.” And though he exclaimed at the term, she found that it had been pretty much the case.

“On the evening before my going to London,” said he, “I made a confession to him, which I believe I ought to have made long ago. I told him of all that had occurred to make my former interference in his affairs absurd and impertinent. His surprise was great. He had never had the slightest suspicion. I told him, moreover, that I believed myself mistaken in supposing, as I had done, that your sister was indifferent to him. As I could easily perceive that his attachment to her was unabated, I felt no doubt of their happiness together.”

Elizabeth could not help smiling at his easy manner of directing his friend.

“Did you speak from your own observation,” said she, “when you told him that my sister loved him, or merely from my information last spring?”

“From the former. I had narrowly observed her during the two visits which I had lately made here. I was convinced of her affection.”

“And your assurance of it, I suppose, carried immediate conviction to him.”

“It did. Bingley is most unaffectedly modest. His diffidence had prevented his depending on his own judgment in so anxious a case, but his reliance on mine made everything easy.”

Elizabeth longed to observe that Mr. Bingley had been a most delightful friend, so easily guided that his worth was invaluable, but she checked herself. She remembered that Mr. Darcy had yet learned to be laughed at, and it was rather too early to begin. In anticipating the happiness of Bingley, which of course was to be inferior only to his own, he continued the conversation till they came within distant sight of the house.

“I was obliged to confess one thing,” he said, “which for a time, and not unjustly, offended him. I could not allow myself to conceal that your sister had been in town three months last winter, that I had known it, and purposely kept it from him. He was angry. But his anger, I am persuaded, lasted no longer than he remained in any doubt of your sister’s sentiments. He has heartily forgiven me now, and I have promised never to intercede in his life in such a way again. I am clearly not born to be a matchmaker.”

“On that point I would have to agree,” Elizabeth said. At his surprised look, she added, “Look at all this way we have walked, and all we have talked about, but you have yet to secure from me a promise that will make both of our happiness’s complete.”

Understanding filled his gaze and he returned her smile. “Shall I get down on one knee then? Or do you not trust me to make a better showing for myself this time?”

Elizabeth slipped her hand over his chest, feeling the beat of his heart against her palm. Everything about him filled her with a longing she wanted so badly to fill. His smell drew her instinctively closer. “Would you do me the honor of your hand, Mr. Darcy?”

“I believe that is what I am supposed to say.” He touched her cheek and the tender caress sent a shiver along her entire body.

“No,” Elizabeth denied. “All you are supposed to say is ‘yes.’”

“Then, yes. Eternally and forever, yes.”

This time when they kissed, there was more passion between their lips. She wanted to do more and knew that he wanted to as well.

“Soon,” she thought, almost desperately. “Soon we will have no reason to part.”

As if reading her mind, he pulled back and led her towards the house. Their steps quickened as lively as if they had not just walked miles around the countryside. When they reached the house, they parted in the front hall before any could suspect what they had been about.

“M
Y DEAR LIZZY, where can you have been walking to?” Jane asked as soon as Elizabeth entered their room, and from all the others when they sat down to table. She had only to say in reply, that they had wandered about, till she was beyond her own knowledge. She colored as she spoke but neither that, nor anything else, awakened a suspicion of the truth.

The evening passed quietly, unmarked by anything extraordinary. The acknowledged lovers talked and laughed, the unacknowledged were silent. Darcy was not of a disposition in which happiness overflows in mirth. Elizabeth, agitated and confused by his silence, and by the anticipation of what would be felt in the family when her situation became known. She was aware that no one liked him but Jane, and even feared that with the others it was a dislike which not all his fortune and consequence might do away.

Regardless of this pain, she did not for a second doubt her decision and it was only the stolen glances she shared with Mr. Darcy that kept her sprits somewhat lively, even if she was not at liberty to let them show. When the gentlemen left for home, Jane and Bingley openly spoke all of that longing and joy which was in their hearts. Elizabeth could but bow to Mr. Darcy and wish him well in the most amiable of words.

However, that night she opened her heart to Jane. Though suspicion was very far from her sister’s general habits, Jane was absolutely incredulous at the news, “You are joking, Lizzy. This cannot be. Engaged to Mr. Darcy! No, no, you shall not deceive me. I know it to be impossible.”

“This is a wretched beginning indeed! My sole dependence was on you, and I am sure nobody else will believe me, if you do not. Yet, indeed, I am in earnest. I speak nothing but the truth. He still loves me, and we are engaged.”

Jane looked at her doubtingly. “Oh, Lizzy, it cannot be. I know how much you dislike him.”

“You know nothing of the matter. That is all to be forgotten. Perhaps I did not always love him so well as I do now, or rather as openly as I am willing to now admit. But in such cases as these, a good memory is unpardonable. This is the last time I shall ever remember it myself.”

Jane still looked all amazement. Elizabeth again, and more seriously, assured her of its truth. “I have longed all evening to have someone as happy as myself to share this news with. Though I am happy for you, it has been agony to see you able to express to Bingley what I feel for Darcy. Every fiber of my being wished to show how happy I am.”

“Good Heaven, can it be really so? Yet now I must believe you,” said Jane. “My dear, dear Lizzy, I would — I do congratulate you — but are you certain? Forgive the question, but are you quite certain that you can be happy with him?”

“There can be no doubt of that. It is settled between us already, that we are to be the happiest couple in the world. But are you pleased, Jane? Shall you like to have such a brother?”

“Very much. Nothing could give either Bingley or myself more delight. I confess, we considered it, but we talked of it as impossible. And do you really love him quite well enough? Oh, Lizzy, do anything rather than marry without affection. Are you quite sure that you feel what you ought to do?”

“Oh, yes! You will only think I feel more than I ought to do, when I tell you all.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, I must confess that I love him better than I do Bingley. I am afraid you will be angry.”

“My dearest sister, now be serious and stop bouncing around like that. I want to talk very seriously. Let me know everything that I am to know, without delay. Will you tell me how long you have loved him?”

“It has been coming on so gradually, that I hardly know when it began. Sometimes I think from the very beginning, though perhaps I did dislike him and then like him again. My emotions have been in chaos and yet now I can hardly imagine not liking him at all. Oh, Jane, I know I make little sense, but you must take that as a sign that I truly love him. But I believe if I must date it then it most likely stemmed from my first seeing his beautiful grounds at Pemberley.”Elizabeth, of course, was joking and Jane knew it as well.

Elizabeth could never be compelled to like a man for his house, let alone love him. Another entreaty that she would be serious, however, produced the desired effect. She soon satisfied Jane by her solemn assurances of attachment.

“In truth, dear sister, I believe it began in earnest after I learned the truth from his letter, even if that first proposal was not very well done. It just took me a while to admit my feelings to myself.”

Convinced on that article, Jane had nothing further to wish for. “Now I am quite happy, for you will be as happy as myself. I always had a value for him. Were it for nothing but his love of you, I must always have esteemed him; but now, as Bingley’s friend and your husband, there can be only Bingley and yourself more dear to me. But Lizzy, you have been very sly, very reserved with me. How little did you tell me of what passed at Pemberley and Lambton? I owe all that I know of it to another, not to you.”

Elizabeth told her the motives of her secrecy. She had been unwilling to mention Bingley, and the unsettled state of her own feelings had made her equally avoid the name of his friend. But now she would no longer conceal from her his share in Lydia’s marriage. All was acknowledged, and half the night spent in conversation.

“Good gracious!” cried Mrs. Bennet, as she stood at a window the next morning, “if that disagreeable Mr. Darcy is not coming here again with our dear Bingley! What can he mean by being so tiresome as to be always coming here? I had no notion but he would go a-shooting, or something or other, and not disturb us with his company. What shall we do with him? Lizzy, you must walk out with him again, that he may not be in Bingley’s way.”

Elizabeth could hardly help laughing at so convenient a proposal, yet was really vexed that her mother should be always giving him such an epithet.

As soon as they entered, Bingley looked at her so expressively, and shook hands with such warmth, as left no doubt of his good information. He soon afterwards said aloud, “Mrs. Bennet, have you no more lanes hereabouts in which Lizzy may lose her way again today?”

“I advise Mr. Darcy, and Lizzy, and Kitty,” said Mrs. Bennet, “to walk to Oakham Mount this morning. It is a nice long walk, and Mr. Darcy has never seen the view.”

“It may do very well for the others,” replied Mr. Bingley, “but I am sure it will be too much for Kitty. Won’t it, Kitty?” Kitty owned that she had rather stay at home. Darcy professed a great curiosity to see the view from the Mount, and Elizabeth silently consented.

As she went up stairs to get ready, Mrs. Bennet followed her, saying, “I am quite sorry, Lizzy, that you should be forced to have that disagreeable man all to yourself. But I hope you will not mind it, for it is all for Jane’s sake, you know. There is no occasion for talking to him, except just now and then. So, do not put yourself to inconvenience.”

Elizabeth could hardly contain her excitement, yet said nothing. Her mother apologized at the necessity a few more times, thinking it essential to follow Elizabeth to her room and back out again. The unacknowledged couple left the house in silence, taking the prescribed path. The seclusion would fit their purpose in being alone quite well and Elizabeth could not help but laugh as she thought of how her mother’s plans had the rare effect of working to her daughter’s compete advantage.

“Please, share your amusement,” Darcy said.

Knowing the path by heart, she knew the exact tree that would take them completely out of sight of everyone. As they passed it, she took his arm. “I was thinking how brilliant my mother’s suggestion was in our coming out here alone. I can think of nothing more that I wanted to do today than see you.”

As if emboldened by her touch, he took her hand from his arm and lifted it to his mouth. He placed a gentle kiss on it. “Then a night has not changed your mind?”

“Changed it?” she exclaimed. “If anything my mind is fixed. I can think of nothing else but becoming your wife.”

“I hear ladies are often excited for the festivities of the wedding, and can think of nothing else until the event is over.”

Leading him, she directed him off the path to a seclusion within the trees. “It is not the wedding I think of, but afterwards.”

Surprise instantly lit his features and for a stunned moment he did not speak. His eyes dipped down, skimming over her frame as if by involuntary action. After a long moment of studying her figure, he managed to get control of himself and drew his gaze back to her face. She blushed profusely to know he thought she meant to imply the wedding night itself. Though she was naturally anxious — and curiously excited — for that event to take place, she had not meant to imply it so boldly.

Worried that such a forthright statement would put him off, she tried to think of something to say to steer the subject away from her faux pas. “I did not mean that exactly as it sounded, but rather I think mostly of our life together. I —”

“I,” he broke in, hesitating slightly before admitting in a clearer tone, “I have thought of my life with you, and our wedding night as well. Often.”

The confession took her by surprise, so sincerely was it said. Elizabeth nervously looked away. For lack of anything better to say, she whispered, “You have? That is to say, I have wondered what it would be — but, I.…”

She knew she blushed profusely. All normal forthrightness faded and she hardly knew how to finish or what to say next. Propriety would tell her to be quiet, to never admit to such emotions and desires, but she did not want a marriage like that. She wanted honesty and passion and a husband who wanted to kiss her, ardently and often.

“You?” he prompted, as if holding his breath for her to finish.

“I do not want to be unseemly, but.…”

“You could never be unseemly to me. I know enough of your character and reputation, and from knowing you, that you are a woman of honor.”

Encouraged by the openness of his expression, she admitted, “I cannot stop thinking of your mouth.” The blush deepened, heating her cheeks. “When you kissed me I thought my legs might not support me. I have never felt anything like it. Yesterday, as we dined, I could think of little else — beyond the obvious frustration of not being able to shout our happiness to the room, but alas it was not the time or the place for such announcements.”

Darcy could not describe the masculine pleasure he felt at her words. He saw the innocence in her expression, unable to artfully conceal the eager yearnings of her body. As she spoke, he watched her tongue dart out over her lips. To know she wanted him was a heady aphrodisiac indeed, and he could not help himself from taking another taste. He pulled her to him, wrapping his arms lightly around her waist as he kissed her. She moaned softly, accepting his embrace. Her body swayed, a small movement that brushed her skirts against his hips. Instantly, he became aroused, the full force of his long felt frustrations and unfulfilled desires coming to a head.

Her scent, like fresh wildflowers, surrounded him, and he breathed her in. His mind whispered that he should stop, that she was not quite his to take, not yet, but he could not command his mouth to move from hers for she parted her lips, and the warm caress of her breath as she exhaled urged him to deepen the embrace. He knew she was inexperienced, yet her enthusiasm to follow his lead was beyond anything he could have hoped. His tongue edged into her mouth and she gasped, opening her lips wider so that he could dip inside. He did. How could he not? Logic and reason could not convince him that she did not belong to him. Every part of him felt the conqueror, tired of being denied the claim of what was destined to be his.

“My sweet Elizabeth,” he whispered, withdrawing his mouth so they could breath. She leaned fully against him now, clinging to his shoulders. He tightened his hold, pressing her soft body into his harder one. Oh, the pleasure! A man could die from such as this.

“No one will come this way,” she told him. “I do not want to leave you just yet.”

The softly whispered plea caused an answering moan to escape him. Damn propriety! Elizabeth belonged to him, if not in name, in soul and spirit. She was his match, his perfect equal — nay, more than his equal for he was in her complete power. Delicate hands slid beneath his jacket, stroking the peaks and valleys of his chest. He shivered, desperate for more.

“I have longed for you.” He trailed his mouth over her cheek. His hand, mindless of any other command, skimmed up her side to cup a breast. So soft and yielding it was, molding against his palm, protected only by her dress. “You cannot begin to understand the distress I feel.”

“Ah,” she answered, tipping her head back as she crumpled his shirt in her fists. “I think I may have some idea. I ache all over — my flesh, my mouth, deep inside. No man has ever made me feel like this. The world is spinning away and I feel as if nothing else matters but us and this moment.”

Elizabeth could not think enough to stop her words. She trusted him, wanted to tell him everything. She thought of those private moments when she had touched herself to the memory of his eyes. This felt so much better. His larger body engulfed hers and she felt the contrasting differences between them — in the size and heat of his chest, the solid build of his muscles, and most poignantly in the mysteriously large pressure against her stomach. His hands slid over her chest and shoulders, along her neck, into her hair, down her back, until he had explored every curve within his reach.