Apprehension and Desire: A Tale of Pride and Prejudice (3 page)

“Yes, as far as I understand, the lady was quite beautiful and charming, but her family proved to be entirely unsuitable. Darcy suggested to me that Bingley was simply caught by a pretty face,  not for the first time, I dare say.”

Elizabeth stopped and her face went pale. It screamed in her head that the lady in question whom the colonel talked about had to be Jane. Mr. Bingley had spent the entire autumn in Hertfordshire after all, and the only lady he courted there was Jane. So it was all Mr. Darcy’s fault! He had to have been the one to convince Mr. Bingley to leave the country and abandon Jane without even a word of explanation or proper farewell. So far Elizabeth had only had a suspicion that it had been Mr. Bingley’s sisters who had opposed his interest in Jane, but apparently, from the colonel’s allusions, it had been Mr. Darcy as well, surely plotting together with them. What a hateful, cruel man he was, destroying the lives of people around him at his whim, first Mr. Wickham’s and now her sister’s. And these were only two cases of his misconduct that she was aware of – she wondered how many other lives Mr Darcy had ruined.

“Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet, are you quite well?” Colonel Fitzwilliam’s concerned voice rang in her ears.

She looked up at the sincere face of the man beside her. “I…” She swallowed and her eyebrows creased. “I am afraid I must go back. I promised Mrs. Collins that I would return early.”

“Yes, of course.” Colonel Fitzwilliam gave her a careful look and added. “Forgive me, Miss Bennet, but you do look unwell.”

“It is a sudden headache. I think I have walked too far today.” Elizabeth explained in weak voice.

Colonel Fitzwilliam proposed, and even insisted, on walking her back to the parsonage, but she refused, preferring to be left alone. She thanked the colonel for his company and walked away from him, without looking back even once.

She did not remember how she reached the parsonage, but she went straight to her room and lay down on the bed, without even removing her spencer.

Soon there was a soft knock at the door and Charlotte entered. “Lizzy, I did not hear you come back. It is time for us to go to Rosings. Lady Catherine has sent a carriage for us.”

“Forgive me, Charlotte, but I will not attend tonight,” Elizabeth whispered, slowly lifting to a sitting position and unbuttoning her spencer.

“What is the matter, Lizzy?” Charlotte enquired with obvious concern in her voice, leaning over her friend.

“Nothing serious, Charlotte.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I believe I simply walked too far. You were right; the sun has been strong today.”

Mrs. Collins stroked Elizabeth’s hair. “I shall explain your absence to Lady Catherine. I am sure she will understand your indisposition. Now, do rest. I shall order some herbal tea for you in the parlour in half an hour. It is a special blend I brought from home which aided my mother many times when she suffered from headaches.”

“I thank you, Charlotte,” Elizabeth murmured, lying back on the bed, closing her eyes.

She must have fallen asleep for some time, but it felt like only a moment when the maid knocked, informing her that her tea was being served downstairs. Elizabeth let out a weary sigh, eventually rejecting the thought of asking to bring the tea to her room.

She refreshed her face with some cool water before walking downstairs.  In the parlour, she took a sip of tea, which had a pleasant scent, but tasted horrible. Still, she obediently drank the entire cup, aware of Charlotte's efforts to make her feel better.

But suddenly, her surprise could not have been greater, when the maid entered, announcing Mr. Darcy. He all but stormed into the room, breathless and somehow agitated, starting immediately to ask about her well-being. Elizabeth answered shortly that she was feeling better and then stayed silent. It was not her intention to speak with that man. She did not care whether he considered her rude or unsocial. She wanted him to go away, still having no idea why he had come here alone in the first place.

Elizabeth did not lift her eyes from her lap to look at Mr. Darcy, but she was well aware of him pacing the room in a restless manner.

She felt shivers run down her spine when he walked close to the chair where she sat. He was standing so close that she imagined she could sense his warmth and smell his manly scent. His eyes were on her, and at last she gathered her courage and looked up.

Mr. Darcy stared at her for a moment or two before reaching for her hand. The next moment, a most astonished Elizabeth could feel the hot, moist kisses on the top of her hand.

“I cannot carry on like this anymore. God be my witness, I cannot,” Mr. Darcy whispered fervently.

To Elizabeth’s relief, he freed her hand, putting it gently back on her lap. “In vain I have struggled; it will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

For the next few minutes, the most astonished Elizabeth had the opportunity to hear about Mr. Darcy’s deep admiration and most passionate regard for her; but she also heard how unsuitable he had found her family and her connections, and how much it had cost him to convince himself he could allow himself to love her. For a short moment, remembering the story of poor Amy Parker, it crossed her mind that he would propose to her the position of  his mistress. But nothing like that happened; after his speech of his great affection and even greater sacrifice, he took her hand gently again, closing it into both of his, and said. “I beg you to relieve my struggles and agree to become my wife.”

Her first reaction was to say no, to refuse outwardly, this prideful and selfish man. She was about to say the biting words of refusal, when the scene from the inn again stood in front of her eyes. She remembered her resolution, made only recently, that she would accept the man who would be able to ensure her a comfortable life.

Now, the situation which she had only  imagined herself to be in one day, was happening. Here was a rich man, with such a position in the world, who wanted to marry her.  This was a chance for her to ensure a safe future. She could not fool herself that another man like Mr. Darcy would cross her path again. It was not very likely. He was not Mr. Collins either. He might be arrogant and disdainful to the feelings of others, but he was educated, worldly and intelligent. She could never have objections to his sensibility, tastes and reasoning.

Elizabeth removed her hand from his grip, stood up and walked to the window. Could she accept him? But what about all those things he had done to Jane and to Mr. Wickham? Was Mr. Darcy’s behaviour towards them simply the result of his indifference to the lives of others or some more deeply rooted general cruelty of his character? Lastly, how could she accept him when she did not know him?

She trembled when she sensed him coming behind her. She closed her eyes, hearing him softly saying her name and turning her gently to him.

“Elizabeth,” he repeated very softly. “Are you well?”

She lifted her eyes and stared into his handsome face. Yes, he was handsome and tall, well built, his chest broad, his face with a noble look to it. He was nothing like Mr. Collins where his outward appearance was concerned. She had to admit he was a much more than   reasonably attractive man.

And Jane, she should think of Jane. As Mrs. Darcy, she would be in a position to see to it that Jane and Mr. Bingley would meet again. If Mr. Darcy, despite all the objections concerning her family and her position in the world, which he so elaborately had laid down just a few minutes ago, had eventually decided to propose to her, he would not prevent his best friend from doing the same with her sister.

Elizabeth stared into his eyes, feeling his big, warm hands resting lightly on her shoulders. There seemed to be a truth in his eyes; his gaze was warm and genuine, as if he was, indeed, concerned about her. She reminded herself that though he had offended her family and upbringing, he had to care, or at least imagined himself to care, for her if he had decided to propose marriage to her. He clearly found her desirable, he wanted her, but still despite her low connections and lack of fortune, he was honourable enough to ask her to be his wife and not a mistress.

“Sweetheart,” she heard, and blinked her eyes at him. “Elizabeth.” He leaned forward, his hands resting more heavily on her arms now. She shut her eyes tightly for a short moment and concentrated to say the words.

“I thank you, Mr. Darcy. I do accept.” It came out so quietly that it was barely heard, even to herself. She averted her eyes from him, resting them stubbornly on the ornament of the mantelpiece.

She thought the silence between them lasted an eternity. Perhaps she should not have agreed so quickly, she thought in panic. She should have asked him for a day or two to think about his proposal. Her body stiffened involuntarily when she sensed him stepping closer. Her heart stopped when she felt his hot breath against her temple.

“There is no need to be shy with me, Elizabeth.” He tilted her chin making her look at him.

His eyes were kind and his voice gentle, but she barely registered that. All she wanted was to be left alone now. She desperately craved a moment alone to think everything through.

Her eyes widened in shock when he began leaning further towards her, his gaze focused on her lips. He wanted to kiss her! At the last moment, she turned her face from him, offering him instead her cheek.

“Forgive me,” she heard, and he stepped back from her.

“I will go to Longbourn first thing in the morning to ask your father’s permission.” His voice sounded more formal now. “Perhaps you would wish to write a letter to your father, explaining the situation.”

“I… yes.”             

He walked to her again. “Could you meet me early tomorrow in the grove, before my departure? Will seven o’clock not be too early?”

“No, I am used to rising early.” She felt his gaze on her, but she refused to return it. He stood by her side for some time before walking in the direction of the door.

At length, Elizabeth looked up at Mr. Darcy, standing by the door, but not reaching for the doorknob, as if he could not decide whether to go or stay. He was looking at her, and Elizabeth forced herself to smile at him. It was barely a shadow of a smile, which did not even reach her eyes; but Mr. Darcy had to take it for incentive, as he smiled back at her, widely, which completely changed his whole countenance. Before she knew it, he was beside her again, pulling her into his embrace.

One of his hands was placed firmly around her waist, the other cradled her cheek. “I would wish to stay here with you longer, but I have to go. My aunt may have noticed my absence and guessed I am with you. It will be better for us not to mention about our understanding to her for now. You may tell Mrs. Collins of our engagement; she seems to be a sensible woman who can be trusted.”

“Yes, she is,” Elizabeth whispered, her eyes stubbornly focused on his elaborately tied neck cloth, wishing him to simply go and leave her alone.

“What is the matter, Lizzy?” Elizabeth’s eyes lifted up to him in surprise, her eyelashes fluttering. Had Mr. Darcy just called her Lizzy?

“You look so very shocked,” he chuckled, his whole face beaming at her. “I know that you did not expect my proposal. I understand you are still in awe and cannot believe your own good fortune.”

“Where is my impertinent little lady?” he asked laughingly, and when she did not answer, still staring at him as if spellbound, he sighed, shaking his head with a smile, and pressed her very tightly to himself.

Elizabeth froze, feeling for the first time in her life, a hard male body next to hers. She had always known that he was tall, but in such close contact, she was more aware of how he was so very large. Her face was pressed sideways on his chest, one of his arms around her shoulders, his fingers stroking the nape of her neck, the other arm placed lower around her waist.

“I really must go,” he whispered into her ear.

Then go! It screamed in her head. But he did not make the smallest move to separate from her; instead she felt hot, moist kisses on her neck.

“Mr. Darcy,” she choked at last, taking a decided step back from him.

He let her go finally, however, obviously very reluctantly, and sighed again. “You will have to get used to me in this respect, Elizabeth.”

She gaped at him, astounded with his arrogance. His warm hands cupped her cheeks and slowly smoothed down her shoulders and arms. “I told you that my regard for you has been passionate from the first moments. Now you should go upstairs and take an early night. A good night’s sleep is the best for a headache. I only hope you will be able to fall asleep with such exciting news.” He smiled in satisfaction.

“I shall be waiting for you tomorrow morning in the grove,” he added, placing a soft kiss on her temple and leaving the room.

Mr. and Mrs. Collins returned home late, as after tea they had been invited to dine at the manor. It did not escape Charlotte’s attention how agitated Mr. Darcy had appeared to be that afternoon; his behaviour had been rather unusual. First, when they had just arrived, he had disappeared somewhere for well over two hours at least. He had been back at dinner, and when his aunt enquired where he had been, he had explained himself that there had been unexpected and urgent business which he had been forced to attend to immediately. During the dinner itself, Mr. Darcy had seemed to be quite oblivious to what was happening at the table. Even Lady Catherine had been forced to repeat herself when she had addressed him, as he had   paid no attention to her words whatsoever. Charlotte had observed him discreetly, conveniently sitting opposite him. It struck her that Mr. Darcy had clearly smiled to himself a few times, even though the tone of the conversation at the table had not been of a kind to sparkle any amusement.