The Journey (38 page)

I do not know when I fell asleep, but as is often the case when reading, my eyelids began to droop and eventually closed. How long I slept, I know not, but I do recall how I was awakened.

“Elizabeth,” Mr. Darcy said softly, trailing a wisp of hay along my cheek. I remember slapping at it to remove the tickle when I heard him chuckle. Opening my eyes, I found his face just above my own, his lips so enticingly near I could have kissed him with the barest of efforts.

I laughed and attempted to raise my head but found his arms on both sides of me, providing a provocative restraint. “Why are you here? How did you find me?”

“The housekeeper told me of how you slipped out early this morning,” he said. “As to why I am here, listen.” Thunder boomed in the distance, and I could see flashes of lightning through the opening below. “One can hardly engage in any type of sport in this weather unless it is my favourite pursuit — ensnaring you in my trap!”

I could not keep from giggling again. “And now that I am caught, what shall you do with me?”

“Oh, perhaps this,” he said, kissing my cheek, his breath warm, his lips gently caressing. “Or, I could do this,” he added, nuzzling the other cheek. “And then there is always this.” He moved his lips to my forehead. “And this, most definitely.” He nibbled my left ear. “Or especially this.” He proceeded to the spot below my right ear while I trembled with delight.

“One never knows. I might even do this,” he said, his voice almost a growl. His lips touched mine with the lightest of kisses. I rose slightly, hoping to keep his mouth upon mine, but he pulled back just enough to thwart my desire and raised his eyebrows.

“What is this? Can my prey possibly wish to be ensnared?” His eyes widened in mock surprise.

I answered by taking his face in my hands. I pulled him down until my lips met his, my eyes closing with pleasure. Softly I stroked his mouth with my own, my caresses growing ever deeper and more urgent until I heard him groan and gather me up into his arms, whereupon he proceeded to match my desire, his own growing stronger moment by moment.

At last we drew apart, and he rolled over. He lay beside me on the blanket, nestling my head upon his chest as he stroked my hair. His heart beat in my ear with a turbulent rhythm, and I could feel him struggle to control his breathing.

“Elizabeth, you have bewitched me.”

“How can I, when I reside within your trap?”

He laughed softly. “In truth, it is you who have trapped me, and I am caged within a pen from which I never desire release. Do you have any idea how you tempt me with your curls freed from restraint?”

At the moment, I had forgotten that I had unpinned my knot and raised my hand to pull my hair back. He snatched my hand away. “No, let it be. I love to see it down.”

“How can you? It is all untidy and wild.”

“I recall the first time I watched your curls fall. You rode in front of me on Morgan’s horse. I saw your bonnet loosen and drop to the ground, and then one by one, your dark tendrils slipped from their pins and trailed down your neck.”

“I was mortified to appear so dishevelled in your presence,” I murmured, remembering how I had searched for a means to rectify my appearance.

He slowly shook his head. “Your description is untrue. I thought you captivating. Ever since we returned to civilization, I have longed to reach up and throw away those pins.” I could feel him bury his face in my hair, as he kissed my forehead.

“Oh, I do love you so!” I cried as I raised my head from his chest, cupped his face with both hands, and began to kiss him once again. His response was equally urgent. He rolled me over onto my back and began the process of kissing me with such abandon that I feared my heart might burst. At last and only moments before I thought I could not bear the excitement building within me, he pulled away.

Quickly he sat up and put his hand to his mouth in that manner I had come to know so well. He did not look at me until he had regulated his breath. I knew that I should rise to a seated position myself, but in truth, I felt too weak to move.

After a time, he turned his head and looked over his shoulder. The desire in his eyes did little to aid my resolve. I knew full well that one of us had to be the stronger, and I prayed that it would be Fitzwilliam.

“Three more days, Elizabeth,” he said. “Three more days, and I shall not stop.”

I blushed, but could not keep from smiling.

“Until then we must stay out of haylofts,” he said.

“Must we?” I said wistfully. “Why is that?”

The barest glimmer of amusement played about his eyes. “You know why. Have mercy and do not tease me.”

I raised up on my elbows and lifted my chin. “I am innocent.”

He nodded, saying nothing for a moment, and continued to stare at me. “Yes, I know. If you were not innocent, you would realize in what danger you now reside.”

“Danger?”

“Yes, Miss Bennet, danger.” He turned and reclined upon one arm.

I placed my hand upon his cheek and gazed into his eyes. He took my palm and kissed it, a practice he had already discovered filled me with delight.

“I am not afraid of you, Mr. Darcy,” I tried to say bravely, although my voice trembled somewhat.

“But I am,” he whispered, kissing my palm again. Then rising, he leaned down and pulled me to my feet. “Come, my love. Let us return to the lion’s den and enter our true cage. For the present, I have enjoyed all the sport I am allowed.”

* * *

Early on the day before the wedding, the Gardiners arrived from London, a welcome addition to our household. They left their children in Town with Mrs. Gardiner’s sister, for they knew Longbourn would be brimming over with people.

My father and uncle quickly secluded themselves in Papá’s study to escape the general mayhem caused by two brides at the mercy of a nervous mother. The only sounds we heard were strains of their laughter drifting through the door now and then.

Mamá claimed most of our aunt’s attention, as she thought it imperative that Mrs. Gardiner know every detail of the wedding plans. She insisted that I model my wedding bonnet for my aunt’s approval, but before I could even place it on my head, her interest had leapt from my bonnet to the handkerchief she had embroidered. She wished Jane to carry it with her bridal bouquet, and she waited impatiently to hear her sister’s praise of her fine needlework.

In between attending to our mother’s frequent need for reassurance that Jane and I had indeed placed sprigs of rosemary among our gowns already packed in our valises, Jane attempted to settle in her chair and apply herself to the novel she was reading. I could see the look she wore, however, and I doubted that she could concentrate on the book.

I did not even pretend to be at rest. Over and over, I walked to the window, pulled the curtain aside, and peered out. There was nothing to be seen but rain and more rain. Would it never cease?

The weather was so poor that the day dragged by with an unusual absence of expected callers. My mother suggested taking Aunt Gardiner into Meryton to call on Mrs. Philips, but neither of them was brave enough to face the weather.

“Perchance, she will visit us,” Mamá declared, “as well she ought, for you have made the trip from Town in these inclement conditions, and she should be willing to exert some small effort.”

“I would not insist that anyone go about in this rain, Fanny. I will see my sister on the morrow at the wedding.”

“Oh, that reminds me — the wedding breakfast! I must talk to Cook and go over the menu once again. You must come with me, Madeline, for I wish for you to see the dishes I have selected.”

Jane and I exchanged pointed glances, as we sympathized with poor Cook. Our mother had surely reviewed the menu at least a dozen times! I sighed as I watched Mary resume her place at the pianoforte while Kitty and Lydia whispered and giggled together in a corner.

All seemed as expected within Longbourn, and yet I could not remain still. I missed Fitzwilliam, and I willed the hands on the clock to move more quickly, for he and Mr. Bingley were invited to dine with us that evening.

At length, I relinquished the hope that standing at the window might make the rain stop falling and sat down beside Jane. She looked up, smiled, and returned to her book.

“You may as well put that aside, for I know you cannot keep your mind attuned to the plot.”

“And how do you know that?”

“You have failed to turn a single page for the last hour.”

Jane laughed lightly and placed her marker between the pages. Turning to me, she gave me her full attention. “Does this day seem as long to you as it does to me?”

“Utterly! I believe it is the longest day of the year!”

“We are silly, are we not? If Papá sees our behaviour, he will declare it to be so.”

I nodded. “I find it silly and strange and yet somehow delightful that I can no longer be truly at ease when I am not in Mr. Darcy’s presence. It is as though part of me — the essential part — is missing.”

“May you always feel that way, Lizzy, and you as well, Jane.” Aunt Gardiner placed her hands on our shoulders. Her presence surprised both of us, and Jane asked how she had escaped our mother.

“I convinced her to rest for awhile. I said, ‘Fanny, you look a bit peaked.’ She rushed above stairs to her bed to refresh her bloom in time to receive her dinner guests. And what of you girls? Should you not do the same?”

Jane and I complied with our aunt’s suggestion and climbed the stairs, although we both knew that neither of us would sleep. In truth, I did not even make the attempt, but followed Jane into her chamber. There, we lay on the bed and opened our hearts to each other as we had done all our lives.

“Are you afraid, Lizzy?” Jane had turned on her side, her back to me, and I could not see her face.

“Of what?” I placed my hand on Jane’s shoulder and gently tugged at her to turn back to me. When she did, I saw the blush covering her face.

“The wedding night, of course. Do you think it is as dreadful as Mamá has said?”

“No. If it were, why would so many women agree to marry?”

“What choice does our sex have? If a woman does not marry and she does not possess a vast fortune, she is doomed to be taken in by a brother or sister and to live out her days as a poor relation. She has neither home nor child of her own.”

I sat up and looked directly into Jane’s eyes. “And yet we do have a choice. If you are afraid of Mr. Bingley, you should not marry him.”

“I do not fear Charles but the unknown. What if I do not know how to please him?”

“Dearest, every person in Hertfordshire knows that Mr. Bingley is besotted with you! You cannot help but please him.”

“But the way Mamá described it — ” Jane’s eyes grew big and round.

“I think we should pay no more attention to what Mamá has told us of the wedding night than we do to any other subject of which she speaks.” I smiled and shrugged, and I was gratified to see my sister’s lips twitch slightly.

Rising from the bed, I walked to Jane’s dresser and began to place her combs in my hair, peering in the mirror to determine which I liked best. “On my wedding night, I plan to follow Mr. Darcy’s lead. He has never yet taken me down the wrong path.”

Jane turned to lie on her stomach facing the foot of the bed. “I believe you learned a great deal about him on that journey you were forced to endure. I suspect that even now you have not told me everything the two of you experienced. ”

I took great pains to remove the combs and smooth my hair back into place, thus avoiding her direct gaze. “On that journey, Mr. Darcy and I faced dangerous, unexpected hazards daily. We were forced to rely on each other. We lived by our wits and the grace of God.”

Turning from the mirror, I wrapped my arms around the bedpost and leaned against it. “I learned what kind of man Mr. Darcy truly is, and I learned to trust him. The unknown does not frighten me, Jane. Does not scripture say that perfect love casts out fear?”

* * *

That evening my uncle renewed his acquaintance with Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, and Jane and I were pleased to see their genuine appreciation of each other’s company. We passed a pleasant evening together, even though Mamá lamented the weather frequently, afraid that the roads would be impassable.

“Do not fear the rain, Mrs. Bennet,” Mr. Bingley said. “Darcy and I shall be in place at the appointed time.”

“But what if the river rises?” Kitty asked.

“La, yes,” Lydia added. “What will you do if you cannot cross the bridge?”

“We will swim,” Mr. Bingley declared, causing my younger sisters and my mother to clap their hands in delight.

Mr. Darcy and I stood near the window, and I could not keep from watching the raindrops course down the pane.

He reached for my hand. “Do you share your mother’s concerns about the weather?”

I shook my head, but I could see that he did not believe me. “Perhaps a little.”

He turned to face me and raised my chin with the tip of his finger so that I was forced to meet his eyes. “I promise you nothing will keep me from your side on the morrow. I shall marry you, Elizabeth Bennet, no matter how high the water rises.”