Authors: Karalynne Mackrory
Disguise of any sort was unnerving for Darcy, and so the knowledge of his subterfuge with his sister only added to his discomfort. He remained silent but attentive enough as the ladies talked animatedly about their surroundings. When they reached the spot in the path where it would lead to the lake, Darcy swallowed the lump in his throat when he heard his sister speak.
“Oh dear, I forgot!”
Elizabeth turned to her with a sly smile. “What is it, Georgiana?”
“I promised Mrs. Reynolds I would meet with her before tea to discuss tonight’s menu. It is the last night you are here Elizabeth, and we have planned your favorites.”
Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy smiled uneasily at another of his sister’s excuses, his better knowledge of her ruse making the excuse sound trifling to his own ears. He was relieved to hear Elizabeth say, “Well, then make haste, my dear. If you wish to feed me all of my favorites, I shall not stand in your way!”
Georgiana giggled and hugged her friend. As she skipped towards the house, she looked over her shoulder to wink at her brother.
“Shall we all go in, or would you like to keep walking, Miss Bennet? I believe you have not had the opportunity to enjoy the path around the lake yet.” He thought his voice sounded odd, but thankfully, Elizabeth did not seem to notice.
She smiled sweetly at him. “I think I should like to continue my walk if you will accompany me, Mr. Darcy.”
“It would be my pleasure, Miss Bennet.”
The two watched Georgiana’s retreating figure until she had reached the steps of the great house before turning towards each other. Darcy extended his arm towards the path in an invitation for her to continue. As she smiled up at him, Darcy clasped his hands behind his back simply to prevent them from clasping hers.
As the path meandered through beautiful oaks and Spanish chestnuts, Elizabeth expressed her appreciation for his hospitality towards herself and the Gardiners. Soon the pathway bent around a copse, and they were upon a small, grassy knoll that was covered in wildflowers near the lake.
Elizabeth gasped and brought her hand to her mouth. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more. When she looked up at him with all the admiration in her eyes, his heart nearly leapt from his chest.
Her eyes sparkled pure contentment. “The view is breathtaking, is it not, sir?”
His eyes were intent on her when he murmured, “Yes, it is.”
“Bluebells are my favorite of all wildflowers.” She bent down to pick a few posies and brought them to her nose. She closed her eyes as she inhaled their fragrant, sweet scent, the picture intoxicating Darcy like never before.
“Then you approve of Pemberley,” he said, holding his breath.
Her tinkling laugh delighted him, and he released the air slowly. “I am sure there would be few who would not approve, Mr. Darcy.”
He smiled at her words as he reached into his pocket for the miniature. “Miss Elizabeth, I remember your reaction to the last gift I attempted to give you, but I hope that you will make an exception for this one.”
He held out the miniature, and her hands came up to receive it instinctively. Elizabeth looked down into the smiling face of Lydia. She shook her head in wonder, her mouth slightly agape as she gazed up at him with wet, questioning eyes.
He hesitated. “Drawing is something of a hobby for me as you have learned. My technique, you will see, is not well developed.”
Elizabeth wiped her eyes and hastened to say, “Mr. Darcy, this is such a beautiful likeness. How is it possible that you came to make it?”
“I have an excellent memory, Miss Elizabeth,” he said, adding to his embarrassment.
Elizabeth looked at the picture again, marveling at the talent of the artist and its likeness to the subject. A thought came to her mind then of how much pleasure such a picture would give to all her dear family as no one had ever thought to have any of their likenesses taken before. The joy that surged through her at that moment chased away the feelings of sorrow. Her elation expressed itself with such profoundness that she could not have realized the words that she then uttered.
“Mr. Darcy, this is too wonderful. I could kiss you!” She laughed as she ran her finger along the edge of the frame.
Darcy froze and could not help imagining that exact action! His artist’s eye was attentive to the sunbeams lighting her soft, chocolate curls. Her dark brown eyes, that had laid the foundation for his love and admiration of her, were sparkling with happiness. He was gratified that she had received his gift with such pleasure but knew better than to imagine her words were in earnest.
But she had said it . . . so he could not help replying huskily, “I would by no means suspend any pleasure of yours, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth continued to laugh, still unaware of what affect her previous declaration held on her companion. “I cannot help but wonder why you would trouble yourself with such an undertaking as this, sir”—she held up the miniature—“but I thank you, most sincerely.”
Darcy stepped closer to her, his eyes trying to convey all that he felt at the moment. He looked all over her lovely face as he said in a low voice, heavy with significance, “Surely by now you know, Elizabeth. Surely you must know.”
Elizabeth looked up at him then and was paralyzed by what she saw. His eyes were focused in the piercing way he often looked at her. At first, she was startled to realize that what she saw there was not displeasure but — Her heart seemed to stop momentarily as the truth settled over her. Looking deeply into Mr. Darcy’s eyes, she saw nothing but a passionate expression of raw admiration and desire. His dark eyes swam with intense emotion.
How could I not have seen it before?
Her mind raced through dozens of similar looks she had received from him almost from the beginning of their acquaintance, each of them flashing through her mind with new understanding. That he could have loved her the whole time, she could not fathom.
Her mouth went dry.
Mr. Darcy is in love with me.
The words echoed in her mind, it being unable to contain any other thoughts at the moment. Her new understanding held her under such a power that she had never before experienced. Most surprising to Elizabeth was the fact that his loving her was not an unwelcome discovery. Her heart spoke confidently to her of the truth it had somehow known for some time, a truth that her mind had only just accepted — the truth that she loved him back.
Mr. Darcy saw the change in her expression and became so overwhelmed by the look in her eyes that his body moved on its own accord closer to her. Indeed, he had reached her before he had even realized what he was about.
Elizabeth was spellbound as Mr. Darcy stepped closer to her and brought his hands up to cup her face. She remained still as he leaned his face down towards hers. She closed her eyes just as she heard the sweet timbre of his voice and felt the warmth of his breath on her face.
“Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he whispered, and she felt his other hand slip along her cheek and stop at the base of her neck. It was but a moment before she felt his lips meet with hers.
At the exquisite touch of his lips upon hers, triggering a thousand thoughts and emotions, the flowers she had picked slipped through her fingers to the ground. Each of her senses was at once surrounded and embraced by nothing but him. His scent, lemon and sandalwood she remembered, engulfed and delighted her. His caress, so tender, so careful on her neck, her cheek, spoke to her of the gentleness of his spirit. Her closed eyes saw gold from the sun that pierced her lids as her face tilted towards the sky to him. Every sensation she experienced was effected and produced by him. The time felt as if it had stopped, and yet she was aware of her disappointment when the soft, excruciatingly wonderful feel of his lips on hers ended only a moment after it began.
Her eyes remained closed when he pulled away a few inches from her face. His hands were still on her face and neck, and his voice was shaky as he said, “Forgive me, Elizabeth.”
She felt an acute sense of loss as he pulled away. She slowly brought her hand up to touch her lips, still tingling from his kiss. She watched him step back again as he drew in a ragged breath and ran his fingers through his hair. She saw his face contort, and she knew he was beginning to rebuke himself.
She stepped towards him then and said, “Mr. Darcy . . . ”
Elizabeth was dismayed to see him step further back and forestall her approach when she had drawn closer to him. She felt the tiniest fraction of relief when he said, “Please, Elizabeth, if you come any nearer, I may not vouchsafe my behavior as a gentleman. Indeed, I have not acted the part just now.” Darcy was barely master under his own regulation, and when she stepped towards him, his arms ached to reach out and return to the bliss of that kiss. His heart was still beating rapidly, and his power over his ardor was tenuous.
I should not have kissed her
, he groaned to himself even as the memory of it washed over him again.
She could see his self-censure and said gently, “Mr. Darcy, although I know what just happened should not have happened, especially considering our lack of . . . of understanding. Even with my own state of mourning, I cannot help but point out to you the fact that I am not complaining, sir.”
Darcy stopped his pacing and looked at her for the first time since their kiss. Her eyes were bright and her cheeks pink with the loveliest of blushes — a blush he knew he had given her. One of her impertinent eyebrows was arched charmingly at him. His eyes drifted to her lips, and he unconsciously tasted his own. The taste of her sweet lips was still on his, and he had to look away lest he lose control again. He swallowed several times before he could speak.
“Your forgiveness I know I do not deserve, but I thank you for it, Elizabeth,” he finally managed with a half-smile and a sideways glance. He would have proposed marriage right then if he were not so intensely aware of his breech with propriety already. Instead, he turned to her and declared, “I would like to call on you in Hertfordshire when you return.”
They both knew that her official mourning would be over by the time she returned to Longbourn. It made his request to call on her all the more significant. Darcy held his breath as he waited for her answer.
Elizabeth could not contain her joy! With her eyes full of delight, she said, “I would like that very much, sir.”
Darcy’s elation at hearing her words could not be described. He held himself in check as he allowed himself to draw nearer to her. With every nerve in his body on high alert and every muscle commanded to maintain his reserve, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips for one delicate, lingering kiss.
He allowed her hand to drop only into the crook of his arm as they began walking again. They walked in companionable silence for most of the distance back to the house lost in their own thoughts and sensations of their time amongst the bluebells. Upon reaching the house, it was time for tea. If the Gardiners or Georgiana noticed their heightened color or the tender glances exchanged from time to time, no one said anything.
The rest of Elizabeth’s stay at Pemberley was marked by those secret looks and frequent musings of their shared kiss. When she and the Gardiners entered their carriage to take their leave the next day, Darcy was already counting the days until he could leave for his friend’s house in Hertfordshire.
Glancing down at his sister standing next to him as they watched the carriage disappear, Darcy said, “Well, Georgie, I think you may have a career as a Bow Street runner with all the sneaky maneuvering you have done on this holiday.”
Georgiana smiled at her brother. “I shall consider the option and add that to my list of accomplishments, William.”
They both laughed and turned to enter the house, Darcy only pausing once to look over his shoulder at the empty road again.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth bit her lip and fixed her gaze steadily out the carriage window. Her cheeks, she knew, were flushed and warm. It was always the result whenever her thoughts brought her back to Darcy and the kiss, her first kiss, only a few days before. The tingle from it had long since disappeared, but the rapidity of her heart rate often returned with the memory. To have gained such a man’s love was beyond Elizabeth’s comprehension. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the padded seat of the carriage.
Elizabeth had not felt such joy and contentment before in her life, and she laughed to herself at the thought that she was now in love with the last man in the world she thought she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. To think she had held that belief just a short three months ago. She knew that her changed perspective had started with her sister’s death; from knowing him better, his disposition was better understood. In this new light, his artless compassion, gentle kindness and understanding nature could be seen, and she could not deny it if she wished.
Her pride still rankled that she had been so deceived by Wickham’s character. She believed now, after reflection, that his deception was more her fault than his. Had she not set herself so decidedly against Mr. Darcy because of his slight against her at that first assembly in Meryton last autumn, then she would not have let her wounded dignity be taken in by the charms of Mr. Wickham. Elizabeth struggled with a mixture of wonder and discomfort to think how the tragedy of Lydia’s death had shown Mr. Darcy in a new light. She might have gone on forever disliking the man and misjudging his character.