The Last Waltz: . . . another pride and prejudice journey of love (11 page)

CHAPTER
FIFTEEN

The ball was well under way, and Mrs. Bennet was keeping an observant eye on her two eldest daughters. She noted that Jane, though not the most aggressive of young women, was successfully maintaining Mr. Bingley’s attention. Upon completion of his other sets, he would return to Jane’s side, eagerly waiting the time of their next scheduled dance.

As Mrs. Bennet looked over to Elizabeth, she let out an agitated breath and shook her head. Once again her second eldest daughter was sitting alone, and now Mr. Collins was engaged in yet another set with Charlotte Lucas.

When it was time for the supper set, Mr. Darcy approached Elizabeth. “Might I persuade you to dance, Miss Bennet?”

She looked up into his eyes. How she longed to dance with him, to feel the warmth of his hands upon her, to have her body move closely in rhythm with his. Unbeknownst, she let out an audible sigh.

“I admit, you have tempted me, sir,” she confessed as a rosy hue heightened her complexion, “but I think it best to decline your kind offer. I would, however, welcome your company.”

He took the seat beside her. “Is it your intention to never dance again?” he asked.

“I suppose I might one day, if I felt secure enough with my partner. But even if I could manage an awkward attempt, I would not wish to invite ridicule from those who remember my once gracefulness at that pleasure.”

He looked at her thoughtfully as if contemplating her answer. “Tell me you are at least enjoying the music.”

“Oh, I am, sir.”

“And the company, has it added to your enjoyment?” he asked.

Elizabeth gave him a smile that made his heart react in a most unusual manner.

“Are you again seeking reassurance as to the pleasure of your company? You really must learn to overcome your insecurities, Mr. Darcy,” she teased with a slight twitch from her amused lips.

His
smile revealed the dimples he usually hid so well.

“I understand your sister Mary has planned to entertain us on the pianoforte this evening.”

“Yes, she is most determined to do so.”

“And will you play for us as well?” he asked.

“I am afraid my skills are quite lacking, and I am sensible enough to resist the opportunity to prove it,” she admitted with candor. Darcy could not help but smile at her openness. She was so unlike any other young lady of his acquaintance.

They sat together for the entire length of the thirty minute set and talked. They talked of riding, Darcy again trying to convince her to renew her interest in that pursuit. He was disappointed he would leave Hertfordshire before they had a chance to ride together. They talked of philosophy and poets, exchanging their opinions and ideas freely. They talked of the impending war, and Darcy was surprised at her knowledge and understanding of such events. They talked of a great many things, none of which had anything to do with the weather or the latest fashion in ladies’ apparel.

He escorted her into the dining area, and when she was seated, he looked around the room for Mr. Bennet. He must inform him of his imminent departure to London before he had a chance to change his mind. For he knew that to stay any longer in the company of Miss Elizabeth Bennet would certainly test his restraint, and he was not at all sure he was up to the challenge.

When he found Mr. Bennet, he led him to a private corner in the hallway. The gentleman could hardly find argument with his departure, for certainly Elizabeth’s attendance at the ball was testament to the success of his efforts to improve her confidence.

That she still refused to dance with him was the cause of some discontent to Darcy, but still no one could deny the progress his attentions had achieved. He and Mr. Bennet agreed that Darcy would inform Elizabeth before the end of the evening of his leaving Hertfordshire.

Mr. Bennet entered the dining room and sat down next to his wife at a table across from Elizabeth. By the time Darcy returned, she was well surrounded by her sisters and assorted gentlemen. Bingley, of course, was seated next to Miss Bennet. Their cousin, the clergyman, was now seated next to Elizabeth and was paying her every attention. Too much attention, as far as Darcy was concerned, as the toady-looking man was leaning over her, giving himself an ungentlemanly view of her bodice.

Darcy had no choice but to sit beside Miss Bingley at the next table. He immediately downed a glass of wine and tried to ignore the discourse at the tables around him.

That task was hardly an easy one as Mrs. Bennet was now expounding the clergyman’s merits.

“He is such a sensible and respectable young man,” she stated. “I believe he has taken quite a fancy to Lizzy, and I don’t think he could find a more grateful wife as he has taken little offense to her . . . impairment. No indeed, he has remarked that he is quite willing to overlook her shortcomings. And Lizzy is not likely to refuse an offer from any eligible young man who is so accommodating.”

Was it possible that Mrs. Bennet was truly ignorant of the appalling manner in which she spoke of her own daughter?

Darcy looked over to where Elizabeth sat. Her face was flush with embarrassment due to her mother’s words, and she would not meet his gaze.

Darcy downed another glass of wine. Was it true; was Elizabeth planning to wed that toad of a man?

Darcy’s efforts to ignore Mrs. Bennet’s further speculations on a match between Bingley and Miss
Jane
Bennet were equally unsuccessful. He turned his attentions to his friend and witnessed Bingley’s complete devotion to the young lady who sat beside him. This observation produced a smile of forbearance.

As often as Bingley had heard his arguments regarding the impracticality of love, his friend was still determined to involve himself in such a common ritual. Darcy often times found himself fascinated by the man’s ability to change the focus of his affection at a moment’s notice. Darcy, however, took no offense at his friend’s total disregard of his opinions on the subject. Bingley was only happy when he was in love. And it seemed the man was
always
happy. If ever there was a man who was destined to marry for love, it was most certainly Bingley.

When Darcy next looked up, he was astonished to find the sycophantic clergyman walking in his direction. He quickly motioned for the footman to refill his glass.

“Mr. Darcy, I have just made an amazing discovery! I understand that you are the nephew of Lady Catherine de Bourgh of Rosings Park. I am in the happy position to inform you that her ladyship was in the best of health, not eight days ago!”

Darcy gave the man a scowl and then with one swig emptied the contents of his newly refilled glass. Seeing that the man was not going to vacate his position without some comment on his part, he indulged the man.

“I am glad to hear it. And what is your name, sir?”

“Oh forgive me, Mr. Darcy. I am William Collins, and I have the very great honour of being under your aunt’s patronage at Hunsford.”

As Mr. Collins spoke, Darcy rose from his chair, towering over the clergyman. He did not reply to the man, aside from giving him another scowl, making his departure from the room at a most opportune moment as Mary was now approaching the pianoforte.

********

The next two hours of the ball seemed to pass with exceeding slowness as Darcy waited for the last set, his final moments alone with Elizabeth.

Mrs. Bennet was, as usual, quite pleased with herself. She believed her declarations at supper had set the stage for a betrothal—or perhaps two. Now if Lizzy would only cooperate.

Mrs. Bennet eyed Mr. Collins and made her way towards him.

“Are you enjoying the ball, sir?”

“Indeed I am, Mrs. Bennet. I have been introduced to so many agreeable young ladies. I’m quite enraptured! I had the pleasure of dancing two sets with Miss Lucas. I found her most enchanting.”

Mrs. Bennet betrayed a look of dismay. “Yes, but she is not the handsomest of young ladies, you must admit, sir.”

“I am not one who places excessive import on looks, Mrs. Bennet. I found her quite amiable.”

His response caused her to frantically look about the ballroom.
Goodness! Where is Lizzy!

“Perhaps you might see if Elizabeth requires anything, Mr. Collins. Indeed, it is getting quite warm in here. Might you suggest a breath of fresh air on the balcony?”

“An excellent idea, Mrs. Bennet; I shall tend to it straightaway.”

When Mr. Collins approached Elizabeth, she tried to dissuade him, but he was insistent upon attending to her comfort.

She looked up at him and tried to imagine what her life would be like as his wife. Would it really be so terrible? She would have her own home. And while she would miss her father, she would not miss her mother’s demeaning remarks; no, not at all. And as much as she would miss Jane, she knew it was only a matter of time before Mr. Bingley made an offer.

So, was Mr. Collins to be her fate? Certainly no one would ever meet the standards she had set with Mr. Darcy. And
he
was leaving tomorrow for London to be with his perfect match. And didn’t he deserve someone just as perfect as he was?

“Yes, I believe I could use a breath of fresh air.” She knew she was affording him the opportunity he had been furtively seeking, that once they were alone on the balcony, his proposal would be unavoidable. Even as she tried to picture the scene that was about to unfold, she still was uncertain just what her answer would be.

Mrs. Bennet looked across the room and watched with delight as Mr. Collins led Elizabeth towards the balcony doors. Yes, with any luck, it would all proceed exactly as she had planned. But dare she hope that her stubborn daughter might encourage his advances as she had suggested? As the seed of doubt took root in her thoughts, Mrs. Bennet knew her course of action.

Where has Mr. Bennet disappeared to? I must find him at once!

CHAPTER
SIXTEEN

Mr. Collins opened the balcony doors as Elizabeth took the small step down and entered. He was not familiar with social proprieties in such matters, but he had a feeling that being alone on a dimly lit and deserted balcony with a young lady certainly must be frowned upon by all good society. But had not Mrs. Bennet made the suggestion herself?

Reluctant to expose them to anything unseemly, he lingered on the threshold. He felt himself uncomfortable as Elizabeth now stood in the faint light emanating from the lantern overhead, the candle dangerously close to extinguishing itself.

No
, the clergyman told himself,
this seems highly improper
.

“Forgive me, Miss Elizabeth, but I find I must rescind my offer to accompany you. As much as I am eager to find the right venue that the delicate question I wish to ask requires, this seems far too intimate a situation. I would not wish to tarnish your reputation, dear cousin. I would be happy to seek out one of your sisters to join you in your need for some fresh air.”

Elizabeth never felt such a sense of relief in her life.

“That will hardly be necessary, Mr. Collins. I will stay only a few minutes to revive myself. I shall return to the ballroom directly. Please go and enjoy yourself, sir. I believe it is almost time for the last set; did you not enlist Miss Lucas? I have heard rumours that the last dance is to be a waltz.”

Mr. Collins turned a disturbing shade of red and gave a slight nod of his head. “I would hate to disappoint the young lady. If you are sure . . .
are
you sure?” he asked as he took a step backwards towards the ballroom. Elizabeth smiled and nodded in reply. “Well then . . . if you are sure . . . I will take my leave, dear cousin.”

When he had gone, Elizabeth walked to the balustrade and inhaled a deep breath of crisp autumn air. She slowly released it as she closed her eyes; it felt so good. She knew she had only delayed the inevitable, but she was grateful nonetheless for the short reprieve.

She heard the balcony doors open once again and turned. “Really, Mr. Collins, I am quite sure . . .”

It was not Mr. Collins who stepped onto the balcony.

“I believe this is our set, Miss Bennet.”

Elizabeth eyed him mischievously. “I see you have found me, sir. I believe there is no escaping you this evening.”

He stood motionless for a moment, about to take offense at her words, until he noted the twitch of her lips which revealed her teasing of him once again. No other woman had ever dared tease him, and he could not believe how much it actually amused him.

He smiled.

“Ah, you are getting better at recognizing my teases, Mr. Darcy.”

How I shall miss it
; the thought crossed both their minds at the same exact moment.

He joined her at the balustrade. “Well, we talked on a great many subjects during our first set. What would you like to discuss this time, sir?”

“I first must inform you that I am leaving Hertfordshire tomorrow, Miss Bennet. A matter of some importance has come up, and I must travel to London. I . . . I do not plan to return to Hertfordshire in the foreseeable future.”

Elizabeth fought to maintain her smile. So it was true; he was returning to London and Miss Marston. At least he was trying to spare her feelings.

“That is unfortunate, Mr. Darcy; I shall miss our friendship. Hearing so much of your beautiful horses, I had hoped to build up my courage enough so that we might ride together one morning. But I am certain it is for the best as you surely have grown exceedingly bored with the country and have found nothing here that might tempt you to stay.”

She had not meant to sound quite so bitter.

He took a long moment to study her, his eyes focusing on the fullness of her lips.

“Quite the opposite, Miss Bennet; I have been resisting a temptation almost since my first arrival in Hertfordshire.”

Once again his uncharacteristic boldness made her blush. She could feel her colour crimson. Surely she was as red as a beet.

“Forgive me, I did not mean to embarrass you, but I would hate to leave Hertfordshire with you believing that you have had no effect upon me. I shall miss our friendship also. You are a remarkable young woman, Miss Bennet. I shall truly miss your company.”

Hoping her colour had diminished, she slowly looked up at him. “I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I shall miss your company, as well.”

“There is something I would like to ask you before I leave Hertfordshire.”

“What is that, sir?”

“Are you contemplating a betrothal to Mr. Collins?”

Had he asked her to jump off the balcony, it could not have surprised her more.

She could not quite allow her eyes to meet his as she answered him. “He has not asked, but if he should, I would be obliged to consider it.”

“Forgive my frankness once again, but you cannot be serious.”

“I am
quite
serious, Mr. Darcy. We cannot all expect to live perfect lives, and as my mother is only too happy to remind me, my prospects for marriage are somewhat limited.”

“Answer me truthfully; if not for the accident, would you still be considering such a match?”

Elizabeth now raised her head and looked deep into his eyes.

“No.”

It came out as barely a whisper.

He took a step closer.

“Tell me what happened that night,” he said as seductively as if he were suggesting something far more intimate.

“It was just an unfortunate carriage accident. One of dozens that happen every day, I imagine. The carriage that hit us was recklessly driven and going much too fast. I am grateful that no one perished and that Jane and Mr. Reeves, our driver, suffered only minor injuries.”

“Did the passengers of the other carriage suffer injuries as well?” he asked.

“It carried only the driver. I do not know if he was injured or not, but I do not believe he was.”

“And the authorities, they have never found him?”

“No, I’m afraid I am the only one who saw him, and I did not get a very good look as it was so dark. I faintly remember the look on his face as he glanced down at me, but it happened so quickly.”

“Do you recall any other details; something about the carriage perhaps?”

“I do vaguely recall its being smaller than ours, yet I remember it was quite handsome. Its owner was obviously of man of wealth.”

She looked up at his face and gave him a faint smile. “My father has accounted that when I was under the influence of laudanum, I told him that I believed I saw the devil, although I do not remember saying such a thing.”

She was quiet for a moment as she looked out over the balcony. When she spoke again, it was almost as if her thoughts had escaped and had taken voice. “I always believed I would make a full recovery. I was so sure of myself, so confident that I could be as I was before, as I was . . . when you first saw me.”

She turned and let her eyes gaze upon his for a moment, but then quickly looked back into the night sky. She would not be able to look at him directly, not if she was going to reveal her innermost thoughts. And for some reason, she suddenly wished to unburden herself to him.

She took in an unsteady breath as she gathered her courage.

“Vanity is a most unattractive trait, Mr. Darcy, though I suspect there is an element of it in all of us. When I used to dream of the man I would someday love, I could easily picture myself walking confidently into a room on his arm. I would fantasize of our dancing a flawless, romantic waltz together… the way others would react to the perfect image we presented.”

She drew in a deep breath and released it slowly. She turned to look at him again, but his stare bore into hers with such intensity that she quickly looked down at her hands as they rested on the balustrade. “While I am most truly grateful that we all survived that night, I . . . I cannot help regret the loss of my dream. So you see, Mr. Darcy, I’m afraid my character is quite flawed that I should regret acquiring a mere limp, when the outcome could have been far more grievous.”

She heard her name escape his lips in a whisper, but still she could not look at him.

“But I have resigned myself to my fate. I shall never be perfect, and I shall never attain that which requires perfection.” She, of course, spoke of
him
, and her eyes welled with tears.

She had never revealed such deep feelings to anyone before, not even Jane. In truth, she had hardly admitted such feelings even to herself.

He was suddenly behind her, and she felt the warmth of his breath on her neck. “Perfection, like beauty, is in the eye of the beholder, Miss Bennet.”

He turned her towards him and put his arms around her shoulders, pulling her into his comforting embrace. He held her like that for several moments. He would leave her tonight, and their lives would take them in separate directions. She would marry Mr. Collins, and he, no doubt, would marry Miss Marston. They each must follow their own destiny.

He moved back slightly so that he might look upon her. He studied her face, and his eyes rested upon the mouth that had been the temptation he had been resisting. It was not his intention to have Elizabeth Bennet complicate his life, but could he leave Hertfordshire without once tasting her lips?

Elizabeth looked up into his eyes, and as if on cue, the candlelight’s flame flickered in the lantern above them and then disappeared. The ambient illumination from the moon reflected glimmers of light in their eyes, and the surrounding darkness seemed to encourage their boldness. When their lips finally touched, they both exhaled a sigh. He moved his mouth over hers as his arms tightly embraced her body and he inhaled the sweet aroma of jasmine.

“Open to me, Elizabeth,” he whispered.

Unsure of his request, she stilled, but as his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she instinctively understood and acquiesced. He tasted of sweet wine and smelled of musky spices as her mouth sought to quench the thirst his kiss had induced. She felt a sudden rush of desire, a feeling she had never before experienced, and it both frightened and excited her.

It was her very first kiss, and though she had dreamed countless times of the enjoyment to be derived from his lips on hers, it was more exquisite than she had ever imagined.

Darcy was finding it difficult to keep his hands idle. He wanted to feel the softness of her skin beneath his touch. He allowed one hand to lightly trace over her jaw and then granted himself the pleasure of lightly caressing her neck, her shoulder—each touch arousing him further. He anchored his other hand at the small of her back, pressing their bodies closer.

He knew he should stop. He wanted to pull away, but she felt so right in his arms, her mouth as sweet as he had anticipated, her body so soft and supple.

Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly as her arms reached up, and her hands glided over his shoulders, resting at the back of his neck. She was determined not to concern herself with his motives. The man she had fantasized about for five years was kissing her, and she wanted this moment to last as long as possible. She would respond to his exquisite kiss and experience passion before he was gone and it was lost to her forever. She would keep this memory with her always, a sweet memory that she would cherish for the rest of her life.

He deepened their kiss; his tongue sought hers as his hands moved to her hips, caressing her, molding their bodies together. He lost himself in her kiss. She brought out feelings in him that were completely foreign, feelings he could not identify. Was it only compassion he felt for her or something much more? It mattered not, for he must leave her and live the life that was expected of him, the perfect life that awaited.

With as much strength as he could gather, he pulled his mouth away from hers. When he looked down at her, he observed her guileless, unguarded reaction to their kiss. Her breathing was unsteady as her lashes fluttered, and then her eyes slowly opened to look deeply into his with an expression of sweet innocence and longing. He stared into her eyes for a long moment, then quickly released his tight hold upon her. They each took a small step back, allowing more room between them, and it was Darcy who finally spoke.

“I seem to spend half of our time together behaving abominably, and the other half apologizing, Miss Bennet. Once again I must beg your—”

“I do not wish to hear of your regret, Mr. Darcy, for I have none,” her small voice said softly.

She daringly held his gaze, and though somewhat embarrassed by her admission, she was not ashamed of the feelings she had revealed.

As her words sunk in, Darcy wanted nothing more than to possess the sweetness of her lips again, but he knew he had already well crossed the line of propriety. However, the courage of her honest declaration and the engaging look in her eyes made him take her tenderly into his embrace once more.

“Sweet Lizzy,” he murmured against her ear.

As he intimately whispered her name, Elizabeth pressed her cheek against his chest and felt the warmth of his body and heard the beating of his heart. She inhaled deeply. She wanted to flood each one of her senses with him—his voice, his taste, his touch, his scent—all being filed away for her to recollect when she was left with nothing but her memory of him.