One Thread Pulled: The Dance With Mr. Darcy (75 page)

“Father, you are mistaken. I never thought that Mr. Darcy would consider one such as me for a wife, so I have not been open in the least about my feelings for him, but I am far from indifferent to him. You need not fear that I might be unhappy with him. He is not what I thought him to be in the beginning. I thought him too proud then, but I was wrong. Indeed, he is the best of men, and I anticipate that the sources of joy and consolation I shall find as his wife will bring me happiness of the deepest kind.” Elizabeth smiled with sincerity that belied any concern on her part.

“Yes, I can easily believe that you will be a most amiable wife for any man, and I daresay there shall be no reason to repine regarding your marriage itself. It is the society you shall be forced to endure that I fear for you. You know that I do not enjoy going to London, but have you not ever wondered why?” Elizabeth shook her head. “It is because the so-called society in town is populated with the most vicious creatures that England can have ever seen. Men and women alike take great sport in reducing lovely maidens such as yourself to a point so low that many never recover. You witnessed for yourself the poisonous nature of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Consider this. She has not lived in town for over twenty years. Her talons have not been sharpened and honed as they would have been had she constantly been in such company as you will face. These people will seek to destroy you, my Lizzy. Did you even consider this before you agreed to marry Mr. Darcy?”

“I did not.” Elizabeth admitted slowly. “My considerations were centered on the implications for Mr. Darcy among those of his circle. As for my part, the sources of happiness that would stem from taking my place as his wife are considerable. I cannot see how the opinions of those so wholly unconnected to me would make any difference to my answer.”

“Oh, you do not, not now, only because you speak of that of
 
which you know nothing. You can have no understanding of the devastation their contempt could inflict on you. For this reason, although I have given my consent to Mr. Darcy, I have done so on the condition that you are to spend the upcoming season in London. It will give you experience, my dear, experience you will sorely need if you are to ascend to the position in society you will occupy as the wife of one who, I admit, is among the most illustrious men in the land. You have not been prepared for such a life. I never considered it possible, which I now realize was due to ignorance on my part.” Mr. Bennet looked across the rim of his glasses. “One season cannot change that, but at least you will enter your marriage with a knowledge of what you face. Caroline Bingley's worst is nothing compared to what you will encounter among the
 
ton
.”

“Father, you cannot mean what you say!” Elizabeth cried out defiantly. “I wish to marry Mr. Darcy as soon as it may be arranged. I love him, father; I love him ever so dearly! I have pondered deeply on the implications of our alliance, and it is he who shall make the greater sacrifice. How can we impose such a wait upon him? He will have duties to attend in Derbyshire.”

“Lizzy, do not attempt to persuade me otherwise. I have informed Mr. Darcy that you shall spend the season in London, and he has agreed. Then you may marry—in June, if all goes well.”

“Oh, Father, how can you vex us so? I am mortified!” Elizabeth covered her face with her hands, to cool her cheeks.

“You will see my dear—this course is for the best. You must trust me.” Mr. Bennet walked to his daughter and embraced her. “The time will pass quickly, you may be assured of this. In any case, you may discover that the diversions and entertainments of London are greatly to your liking. Console yourself in this.”

“My consolation, Father, is in knowing that at the end of it, I shall marry the best man I have ever known. I shall think of that before every ball, every theater engagement, every time I walk out—it shall be the joy of knowing it brings me a day closer to becoming Mrs. Darcy that will enable me to endure it. To this, I might add that I shall fare well in that society. You shall see. I will be content!”

~*~

Upon quitting her father's study, Elizabeth went to the sitting room. Her mother and sisters were all in attendance, and upon her entrance, her siblings cried in unison, “Lizzy!”

Elizabeth felt the press of their presence immediately, as Lydia and Kitty leapt from their seats and ran to her, bouncing with excitement on their toes.

“Lizzy, Lizzy!” Lydia exclaimed with a quick glance over her shoulder at their mother, “I am to be your bridesmaid, am I not?”

“And I!” Kitty echoed.

“And we shall have new gowns—first for Jane's wedding, and then for yours! Oh, how very smart we shall be at all the balls and assemblies!” Lydia gushed.

“And new gloves, too.” Kitty added. “And slippers, if Papa will buy them.”

Mary stayed in her seat, watching the scene with a demure smile, as did Jane, who beamed at her sister from across the room.

“Of course, he shall buy you new things!” Mrs. Bennet's voice rang out over the hubbub. “What else is a wedding for, if not to be dressed in your finery?”

“A wedding is to enact the state of marriage,” Mary intoned soberly. “It is the union of a man and woman in the sight of God, to bring forth children as the fulfillment of the commandment to multiply and replenish the earth. It is to provide companionship for the man and security and a home for the woman.”

“That may well be,” Lydia said with a giggle, “but there is no commandment that says I may not attend the wedding in a new and fashionable frock!”

Elizabeth glared in frustration at her youngest sister. “Lydia, do not count upon a new dress for my wedding soon, Papa has…”

As she was speaking, the door to the sitting room opened and Hill announced that Mr. Timmons had come to call. The ladies of the household, with knowing glances at Mary, hastily returned to their places upon the entry of Mr. Timmons, except for Elizabeth, who excused herself with some relief and slipped out of the room before Mrs. Bennet had launched into the pleasantries she loved to bestow on any suitor of a daughter.

Elizabeth raced to her bedchamber and retrieved the red shawl. It was far too elegant for everyday, but she swept it around her shoulders and ran in a less than ladylike manner down the stairs and out of the front door, her eyes searching the drive to the house. Seeing no one, she next ran to the gate and peered down the road, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Darcy before he was out of sight.

It had been too long, she realized, as the lonely stretch of road before her bore no traveler, not on horseback or in a carriage. Disappointment overcame her in that moment, and she leaned wearily against the gate, closing her eyes in an attempt to conjure his face in her mind. She realized after a moment that she felt a presence there with her, and she opened her eyes to discover two large brown ones staring unblinking back at her from below. With a slight whine, Apollo thumped his tail on the ground as Elizabeth turned and looked around them before she crouched down and called the beast to her.

“Apollo! How I have missed you!” She crooned in his ear as she scratched the sensitive place beneath it and petted his head and chest. “How is it that you are alone yet again?”

“Stealing my dog's affections again, Elizabeth?” A soft, deep voice spoke from behind her, and she whirled around to find Darcy atop his mount looking down on her.

Elizabeth's eyes danced with delight. “I am trying,” she said teasingly. “Without much success, I think, for Apollo is terribly attached to you. I am practicing all the same, however, for did you not beg me to bestow some head pats and ear scratches on
 
you?
 
I fear that you will find no satisfaction in my abilities—they were learned upon a dog and must be shamefully displeasing to you.”

Darcy laughed heartily and dismounted. “You willfully misunderstand my meaning, but I shall forgive you for such infractions when we are wed,” he said, approaching her. His eyes shifted to the cloth that was wrapped around her shoulders. The golden threads woven into the shawl glinted in the fading light, and he reached out, fingering the softness before his hand trailed down her arm. “It looks very fine upon you, as I knew it would.”

Elizabeth colored but steadfastly looked into Darcy's face. “I intend to wear it whenever I am inclined to please its giver, which I expect to be often. I shall probably wear it out before six months are up!” Her lip quivered. “Six months! How are we to endure it?”

“Do not be troubled.” Darcy's face had clouded with some emotion unfamiliar to Elizabeth. “I daresay that I have not courted you properly anyway, and I intend to do so now. The next six months shall be the sweetest you have ever known, although not better than what is to come after, I assure you. At the end of it, your father will be satisfied and we shall become husband and wife. Six months is nothing, dearest, not when we may anticipate a lifetime.”

“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth began, “I mean … Fitzwilliam.” She fidgeted. “There is so much I do not know about you. I should very much like to…,” she looked into his eyes, and finding encouragement there, she continued. “That is, I was hoping … thinking ... wondering … well, as much as has been spoken of Pemberley, I have never seen it, and it is, after all, to be my home, and I shall be mistress in that house. I thought perchance that we might…” Darcy's eyebrows rose expectantly, prodding Elizabeth to complete her request. “I was hoping that we might visit Pemberley … soon.”

“Nothing would delight me more.” Darcy said, beaming with pleasure. “We must discuss this with your father, for he has declared you must have a full London season. Perhaps at Easter, when springtime has at least touched the grounds, we could venture to visit there. You may have become bored with London by then anyway.”

Elizabeth laughed. “I thought you preferred town!”

“I shall prefer wherever you may be found,” Darcy said quietly. “I wish never to part from you. If you are in town, I shall seek every opportunity to remain in town. If you are in Hertfordshire, I shall follow you here and quarter with the militia, if need be. When we are married, I think we shall remain at Pemberley for the greater part of the year, if it suits you.”

“I believe I would like that, and it will be far more practical than your following me everywhere like a lost puppy.” Elizabeth's eyes shone as she tipped her face up to look into Darcy's, but a gust of wintery air caused her to shiver just then; the shawl was decorative and not designed for warmth.

Darcy raised his eyes to examine the deserted road. He gave a little tug on Romeo's reins, and the horse stepped forward, blocking both the wind and the view of the house. “Are you cold?”

Elizabeth nodded. “A little.”

He instinctively stepped closer to her, setting his hands protectively on her arms. “You must return to the house, Elizabeth. You are recovering from your illness—a chill may cause a relapse.”

One step forward, and Elizabeth had crossed the invisible line of separation dictated by all the conventions of propriety. She pulled the shawl snugly around her shoulders, her arms crossed over her chest in so doing. Darcy's hands naturally slid around to her back as she came into the warmth of his embrace. Both stood motionless, overwhelmed by the proximity to the other, and by reluctance to do or say anything that would break the spell of their nearness. With a sigh, Elizabeth rested her head against Darcy's chest, and his arms tightened around her in response.

“I am not cold now,” Elizabeth whispered contentedly into the lapel of his greatcoat.

“No, nor I.” Darcy replied with a quiet chuckle. “You astonish me at every turn. We cannot stand here like this forever, although I find myself tempted to attempt it.”

“No, I suppose we cannot,” Elizabeth said as she nestled her head more firmly against him.

Several minutes passed in silence before Romeo stamped his foot impatiently. Apollo whined, and the couple reluctantly stirred. Darcy relinquished his tight grip upon her and held her loosely instead. Elizabeth turned her face upward, and in an unexpectedly raspy voice uttered, “I shall return to the house now. Good-night, Fitzwilliam.” She looked into his eyes and discovered them glittering back at her with such tenderness that she hesitated in breaking away from him but instead stared at the mesmerizing appearance of his face.

It was but an instant later that the tenderness that had illuminated his eyes captured her lips as he lowered his head and pressed his mouth urgently against hers. Elizabeth gasped at the sensations that exploded within her at this contact, and Darcy's arms tightened once more, pulling her into him as his kiss became raw and passionate. It lasted just half a minute, but when he released her, Elizabeth was wide-eyed, with cheeks that rivaled the reddest rose.

“Oh!” she exclaimed breathlessly, gaping at Mr. Darcy with some degree of shock. She shook her head slightly, as one does when waking up from a dream and then an enormous smile overtook her face—she could not have repressed it had she tried. “Oh!” she repeated. “That was … lovely.” She did not mention the warmth that had enveloped her entire being. She looked up at him shyly. “Do you think you could do that again?”