Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo) (18 page)

In these past days, with not one
but two Bennets engaged to Netherfield men, Lizzy and Jane had braced for an
escalation of Caroline’s rudeness and verbal harangues. Instead, she was
surprising polite, even to the point of nauseating sycophancy. The sisters
tolerated her, jesting when alone at home, and not once had Lizzy wondered what
transpired when they were not around.

Had Caroline decided to increase
her provocative advances and sickening flattery, hoping to turn Mr. Darcy away
from the unworthy country chit? And how will Mr. Darcy respond to such
invitations, from Caroline or any other woman?

Lizzy experienced intense waves of
fury, jealousy, and humiliation. Physically ill from the wild emotions surging
inside, she was unaware of him speaking until he firmly lifted her chin.

“Are you feeling unwell, Elizabeth?
You are pale and trembling. I can run for some water.”

“No, no. I am fine. Sorry. It is a
bit warmer today than I thought, and this shawl is thick. I will be fine.” She
slipped the shawl down and pulled her fan from within her reticule. She made a
show of fanning herself—it did help to ease the fire of her emotions—and
smiled brightly up at Darcy’s concerned face.

His eyes were scrunched, brows
knotted, and jaw clenched tight enough to make the muscles twitch. The whole
picture was one of near panic. Persistent niggles of jealousy ate at her, but
his devotion was reassuring.

“I am fine, truly.” She patted his
hand, only then realizing that he held a small box. “Oh! Is this what you have
for me?”

“Yes, but it can wait if you need
refreshment—”

Lizzy impulsively planted a short
kiss to his lips, surprising both of them. “I am fine,” she repeated, a bit
huskily, “and will be even better after a present.”

“As you wish.” He cleared his
throat and stared downward at her left hand where it covered the box in his
right. “I have been yearning to give this to you for days now. I was forced to
wait until it was ready, and I planned to secure time alone with you later
tonight. Our surprise encounter is, as I said earlier, fortuitous. I shall no
longer feel a sense of something missing. And it is probably for the best we
are in a public place.”

He muttered the last sentence under
his breath. Lizzy suspected it was a thought spoken aloud, and smiled when he
again cleared his throat before raising his eyes to her face. All traces of
concern vanished, replaced with tender love and a sliver of embarrassment.

“Maintaining decorum when near you
is…trying at best…and nigh impossible upon occasion. I am fairly certain this
will be one of those occasions.”

Before Lizzy could think how to
respond to such an admission, Darcy snapped open the box.

“William!” Lizzy gasped, her free
hand covering lips parted in wonderment. Nestled amid a cushion of velvet was a
narrow ring of gold with seven gemstones in a perfect row. Each stone was
brilliantly polished and set into the band with an intricately woven design of
gold.

Darcy slipped the ring onto her
finger. “Elizabeth, it is important to me that you wear a tangible symbol of
our engagement as a reminder of my promises to you. First is the promise to
grow closer during our season of courtship. Second is the promise of my
commitment to stand with you before our families and God on November twenty-eight,
at which time I promise another ring will be given to symbolize my commitment
for eternity. This betrothal ring is not the one I most desire to place on your
finger, and I will say no more on that for now, however, as soon as I saw this
in Mr. Bijoux’s jewelry case, I knew it was a splendid alternative.”

“It is stunning, William. I cannot
imagine another to surpass it.”

“I am pleased you like it.”

“Like it? No, I love it! Never have
I seen a ring to compare, and all these stones—”

“It is a new design in jewelry
fashion by Parisian jeweler François Mellerio. Normally I pay scant attention
to such things, but this one did pique my interest, probably because I was
thinking of you. See, the stones are chosen to spell a message.”

He touched each one as he
explained, “Diamond, emerald, amethyst, ruby, another emerald, sapphire, and
topaz.” He gazed directly into her eyes, voice rough and each word enunciated
meaningfully. “DEAREST. To me, dearest Elizabeth, you are everything that the
word encompasses: precious, beloved, cherished, valued, highly regarded and
respected, and so much more. I…I do not wish to overwhelm or…frighten you with
my fervor. I do, however, believe it necessary to reveal the earnestness of my
convictions.”

“I am not sure what to say,” Lizzy
ventured after a long pause. A tiny smile lifted the corner of her lips. “Strangely,
you, the man with the taciturn reputation and claims to not converse easily,
have turned out to be the one in this relationship better skilled at expressing
emotions verbally.”

“I am practicing.”

His ready quip broadened Lizzy’s
smile. “I daresay the exercise has been effective. At times almost too
effective.” She tightened the grip on his fingers when he tensed at her words. “Thank
you, William, for the ring and for being honest. Understand that I am not
frightened by your feelings for me, nor am I overwhelmed, precisely. It is just…”
Frustrated, she exhaled and shook her head. “See what I mean? You have become
the eloquent one while I stutter and blunder my words!”

“Please, Elizabeth. You have no
need to worry over trying to explain. I do understand, truly. Much has
happened, and quickly from your perspective. I have the advantage of age
lending maturity, I suppose, but primarily the difference is that my love for
you is of long standing. Despite all that passed between us before, my
affection continued unabated and grew. Your love for me is a newer development.
I denied my feelings for you for months, so I can appreciate the strangeness of
embracing the emotions and then learning how best to reveal them.”

He glanced down at her hand,
tracing the jewels on the ring encircling her finger and emitting a sound
somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. “Considering how terribly I initially
expressed my love for you, I cannot claim any expertise or be dismayed if you
struggle. In time, I am confident that we will both improve in our eloquence.
Now”—he patted her hand, smiled brightly, and stood to his feet, pulling
her with him—“we have a village to explore and a short time left for you
to tell me of all the ways you managed to get into trouble. I suspect it may
well require more than one day!”

* *
*

Caroline
Bingley stood before the tall mirror, turning side to side as she subjectively
examined herself from head to toe. Her gown was a true work of art and the
latest fashion, naturally. The underdress was sheer silk of iridescent cream,
overlaid by a netted-lace sheath robe of silver, belted and edged in midnight-blue
gilt braid intricately woven into a scalloped design. Sewn to her precise
measurements, the garment fit her figure like a glove. Rather scandalously so,
considering how the braided bodice cupped her bounteous breasts and dipped into
an angle pointing to the deep valley in between. The gossamer skirt
intentionally draped so as to cling to her shapely legs and curve above her
slender ankles. Exquisitely tailored, and outrageously priced, it was a gown
intended for an exclusive Society event. Caroline was certain her modiste would
die a thousand deaths if she learned her masterpiece was unveiled at a private
dinner in the inconsequential town of Meryton.

Fortunate for Caroline, none of the
people coming to dinner on this night were likely to report her fashion
infraction. Besides, if wearing the gown accomplished the desired outcome,
Caroline would be able to afford dozens of expensive ensembles on a monthly
basis, and there was not a modiste in the world who would turn her nose up at
that!

For good measure, Caroline adjusted
the sleeves to show a bit more of her smooth shoulders and added another drop
of perfume to the crevice between her breasts, pausing to plump each one to
maximum effect. What it was about a woman’s bosom that made men go crazy she
truly could not fathom. But it was a fact they did, and since she had caught
Mr. Darcy’s gaze drop to her décolletage upon occasion, it was sensible to
emphasize what she knew to be one of her prime assets. Each of the items she
wore tonight, from embroidered slippers to jeweled hairpiece, were chosen to
accent her best features or camouflage her few flaws.

Her mission to entice Mr. Darcy
away from Miss Elizabeth was proceeding. Not as swiftly as hoped, she cringed
to admit. Opportunities to strike were limited, since catching him alone had
proven to be nigh on impossible. To her chagrin, he passed most of his time
away from Netherfield in the company of
that woman
. The handful of hours
when the Bennet sisters were with the gentlemen at Netherfield, Caroline grit
her teeth and forced polite words between her lips, hoping to persuade him by
the contrast of her charm and refinement to theirs.

Mr. Darcy had forever been a man
difficult to read, and she might have feared she was failing if not for his
response on those fortunate encounters when she was able to attack—such
as the incident in the library with Mr. Darcy so flustered by her close
proximity and pressure of supple breast on his arm that he spilled his tea all
over the book he was reading.

Caroline laughed aloud at the
remembered flush that had spread over his cheeks, how he had avoided her eyes,
and hastily vacated the room. Indeed, like all men, Mr. Darcy was a slave to
passions—hence the decision to bombard with her entire physical and
sensual arsenal tonight. Elizabeth Bennet was no match for Caroline Bingley, of
that she was certain.

 Giving a final tug to her
bodice, she headed downstairs to welcome their guests. As luck would have it,
her prey was alone in the front parlor when she entered. He stood by a wide
window, tall and stately, dressed impeccably as always, and gazed placidly onto
the front avenue. Always she had admired his physical attractiveness and
pronounced masculinity, yet it was his arrogance and self-possession that
appealed to her more than the rest. The latter was evident in the way he
glanced her direction, then after a flash of widened eyes and rapid second
glance, resumed his calm contemplation of the graveled drive. His stiffened
spine and tense jaw revealed he was not unaffected, however.

Hiding her satisfied smile,
Caroline glided across the room and sidled as close to him as decency allowed. “Is
there something of riveting interest, Mr. Darcy? Or are you merely enjoying the
sunset?”

“It is a colorful sunset, although
I would prefer it not transpire so early. Shadowy roads are treacherous.”

“Your concern is commendable if
unnecessary. Our guests have passed their entire lives within a radius of ten,
twenty miles at the most, so I am sure the roads are familiar to them. If Miss
Elizabeth can walk across open, muddy fields without mishap or losing her way,
a carriage ride should contain no hazards.”

Out of the corner of her eye, she
saw him press his lips tightly together, but he said nothing. Hopefully her
subtle jibes brought to mind how uncultured the residents were, particularly
his betrothed with her ill-bred behavior. Letting the image of a
mud-splattered, sun-browned, and wind-swept Elizabeth Bennet linger, and
compare with her refined beauty, Caroline turned until facing him. Again he
glanced down at her, Caroline smiling seductively and catching his eyes before
he looked back out the window.

“How well do you know the people
Charles invited to dinner? I confess I cannot recall them at all, despite
Charles assuring me they came to the ball last year. Frankly, I am divinely
grateful to have largely forgotten that night of what passes for genteel
society in Hertfordshire. Nevertheless, I have promised Charles, and you, Mr.
Darcy”—she laid one hand onto his forearm—“to be hospitable to the
friends of the Bennets, so I will be the perfect hostess. I even wore my newest
gown for the occasion”—she slid her free hand provocatively along her
torso—“a risk on my part since it is unlikely they will appreciate the
nuances of high fashion.”

“Your suspicions are undoubtedly
correct, Miss Bingley. I fear wearing that ensemble will be a wasted effort.”
He walked away from the window, speaking in the same dry tone, “Mr. Denbigh is
a barrister and a fine billiard player. We met at the Club when staying here
last year, and then again yesterday. Pleasant gentleman, well read and
educated. I have not met Mrs. Denbigh, so cannot say whether she is versed in
modern fashion or not. Mr. Denniston owns a modest estate not far from
Longbourn, and he is betrothed to Miss Desiree Stedman, a longtime friend to
Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth. I have met both on several occasions lately. He
is a gentleman, and Miss Stedman is sweet, although remarkably shy. In that
respect, she reminds me of Georgiana.”

Only half listening to his
commentary on their guests, who she cared not one iota about, Caroline watched
him walk to the sidebar and pour a glass of wine. Outwardly there were no signs
of wound nerves, so she could only hope that his need to imbibe was due to her.
Intent on testing the theory, she left the window, drifting toward him in a
leisurely manner. Darcy, she noted, flicked his eyes her direction without
turning his head—not the appreciative stare she would have preferred, but
he also did not move away from the sidebar.

“I am surprised you do not remember
Sir Giles Osteler. He is a baronet, unmarried, wealthy, and has a fine estate,
Tawneywood, to the north near Boddenham. Excellent reasons for him to capture
your interest, Miss Bingley. I knew him at Cambridge, ironically, although it
never occurred to me that he might be on friendly terms with Sir William Lucas.
Accompanying Sir Giles will be his sister, Miss Ada Osteler, who is, I
understand, scheduled for her Court presentation this next year. Therefore, in
my estimation, these two are likely the
only
ones here tonight to
appreciate your choice of clothing.”