By Force of Instinct (8 page)

elizabeth longed to tell him that she had no intention of going near Mr.

Darcy if she had any choice in the matter whatsoever. After long consideration, she still felt no clearer in her own mind as to Mr. Darcy’s possible reaction to their encounter, but, as she approached rosings that evening with the rest of the party, she could not help recall the devastating feeling of his lips upon hers.

Half afraid that her thoughts would show in her face, she kept her eyes downcast during the greetings and introductions. When she was finally forced to look up by the need to move to her table, it was to see Mr. Darcy turning an attentive smile on an attractive young lady seated next to him, who seemed far from averse to such attention. she felt an unanticipated stab of pain at his defection; she had been prepared for a reaction of distaste from him, but not to find herself so rapidly displaced in his mind. Blindly she turned to colonel Fitzwilliam, who had seated himself next to her, and deliberately gave him the brightest smile she could manage.

she was seated at a table across the room from Mr. Darcy; she was unable to follow the progress of his conversation, but she heard his laugh ring out on more than one occasion, and the murmur of his voice. clearly Wickham had been telling the truth in one small item—Darcy was indeed able to be pleasing among those he thought to be his equals in consequence, a group to which she did not, and never would, belong.

Her pride would not allow her to let slip any hint that Darcy’s desertion troubled her. she engaged colonel Fitzwilliam in a lively manner which soon drew a pleased response from that gentleman, who remained quite taken with the lovely Miss Bennet and had rather felt her withdrawal from him after his confession of his need to find a well-dowered bride. Her smiles were brilliant, and she teased him with many a sideward glance which might in other circumstances have led him astray, and by the end 47

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of the evening he was willing to declare it the pleasantest evening he had spent at rosings since his arrival.

It was a conclusion that would not have been shared by his conversational partner, who felt her attention painfully drawn to the opposite side of the room. she could not justify her dislike of the situation; after all, she had refused him and had no interest in furthering a relationship with him, so why should she feel any distress to see him moving on? she finally reached the painful conclusion that it was because Miss temple was everything she was not; wealthy, dressed in silks and jewels, and fashionably pale and languid in the manner of the
ton
. she would, elizabeth was forced to conclude, make a much more suitable bride for Mr. Darcy, but she could not deny the pain this thought caused her.

Darcy’s displeasure at seeing elizabeth turn her sparkling eyes upon his cousin reached the level of near-torture as the evening progressed. she was facing away from him, but all too frequently he could see her dark curls brushing near colonel Fitzwilliam’s arm, and the obvious pleasure that gentleman took in her attentions.
So her subdued air lasted only so long as she
thought I might be watching her,
he thought bitterly.
No sooner does she see
my attention turned elsewhere than she is laughing with him once again!

He was gripped by the desire to take elizabeth away, forcibly if necessary, from his cousin. Better yet, to take her away from all of these people and their superficial ways, and to demand that she accept him. His mind began to travel down a familiar route as he imagined how he would convince her, a scenario in which his bedroom and her swollen lips and passion-filled eyes played leading roles. The crystal sound of her laughter reached his ears, breaking into his fantasy and bringing him closer to thoughts of murder than he ever cared to be.

“Mr. Darcy?” Miss temple’s languid tones pierced his distraction, and he turned to her half in irritation before recollecting himself. no, he would conquer this, he told himself with angry determination. elizabeth would never be his, and it was time to move on with his life. she would be some other man’s wife, and their paths would never cross again, leaving him only with the memory of one kiss among the blossoms and a book of poetry that would forever remind him of her. Finding himself unable to tolerate this torment any longer, he excused himself abruptly to Miss temple and strode from the room.

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He did not stop until he was out in the chill of the night. Finding a bench in the gardens, he dropped himself down and rested his head in his hands, allowing the aching pain inside him free rein. Why had it happened this way? Why could she not have cared for him? He allowed himself—nay, he could not stop himself from seeking solace in fancy, imagining elizabeth as he had so many times, coming toward him with that teasing smile which had so bewitched him and her hand held out to him. Beneath the teasing there would be a warm and gentle look in her eyes just for him, and he would take her into his arms, tasting the passion that lay just beneath the surface, waiting for him to awaken it.

He had dreamt too often of her in his bed to stop there; he could almost feel the warmth of her curves beneath his hands, and see the discoveries he would make as he slid her dress off her shoulders. she would give herself to him, as generous in love as she was in laughter, and he would make her his forever, bound to him by ties as strong as blood.

Dear God, how am I to live without her?
he demanded of the night sky. A sense of hopelessness filled him, as if life itself had lost its meaning when he lost her.
She was never yours to begin with!
no, he would not give in to despair; he would prove that he could conquer this need for her.

Pull yourself together, man!
he told himself firmly.
You are Fitzwil iam
Darcy, the Master of Pemberley, and the woman does not live who can bring
you to your knees! It is time, past time, to go back in there and play the role
you have always been meant to play.
With a sigh, he stood and brushed off his trousers.

He returned to make his apologies to Miss temple. He did not glance in elizabeth’s direction again until it came time for the party from the Parsonage to depart. only then did he allow himself to rest his eyes on her in a long, serious look, taking in her form and her visage and committing them to memory. They would not meet again; this represented the end of an era for him, and the beginning of a life which would be ornamented only by emptiness. As quickly as he could do so tactfully, he retired to his rooms, his mouth tasting of bile. He removed his coat and cravat and threw them carelessly on a chair. His valet looked at him reproachfully; Mr. Darcy usually paid more attention to these matters, but tonight he was blind to everything but the pain in his heart.

He came abruptly to a decision. He could stay no longer and risk seeing 49

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her again. “We leave for London at first light, sawyer. Please see to it that my belongings are packed and shipped on as soon as may be.”

“yes, sir,” the valet murmured in surprise, knowing better than to question his master when he was in such a mood.

elizabeth was late to breakfast the following morning after sleeping poorly. no sooner had she taken her seat than a bright-eyed Maria Lucas said, “Have you heard, Lizzy? Mr. Darcy left for town early this morning on urgent business, and her ladyship is beside herself with anger!”

“Maria!” exclaimed Mr. collins, his mouth still working on a large bite of muffin. “I will not have any disrespect for Lady catherine in this house!

I find it hard to believe that after the gracious condescension she has shown you that you would repay her kindness by speaking in such a way! And if she is angered with Mr. Darcy, I am certain beyond the shadow of a doubt that he richly deserves it!”

Maria subsided, a look of shame upon her face which would have amused elizabeth on another day. today, though, her mind was ajumble with thoughts—
He did not even trouble himself to make his farewel s to me,
she thought with an odd pain.

As soon as she could, she escaped the parsonage for a brisk walk with the intent of recovering her spirits, a challenge which proved to be beyond her capabilities. on her return, she was met en route by a man she recognized vaguely as a servant from rosings. “Miss Bennet!” he called to her.

“yes?” she responded.

“Madam, I was charged to return this book to you,” he said to her with a bow, handing her a leather-bound volume.

she looked at it in puzzlement. turning it over, she recognized it as the book of poetry she had been reading that day at rosings. “I am afraid that there has been some mistake,” she said politely. “This is not mine.”

The servant paused, puzzled. “But Mr. Darcy specifically instructed me to return it to you, that you had lent it to him. Perhaps he was mistaken, and it was from someone else?”

she opened the book to the flyleaf where she found her name printed in a firm handwriting that had become familiar to her from her many perus-als of his letter. she looked at it in confusion for several moments before realizing how neatly Darcy had trapped her. There was no way for her to 50

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refuse the book without drawing attention to the fact that he was giving it to her, with all the dangerous implications that carried. Finally she said slowly, “no, it was my mistake; I had confused it with another. yes, this is mine.”

The servant, used to the baffling ways of the gentry, thought no more of the matter, but the same could not be said of elizabeth. she returned slowly to the parsonage, and managed to escape to her room without encountering any of the inhabitants. There she sat and held the book in her hand, caressing the letters imprinted in gold on its spine, and speculated what had motivated Darcy to give it to her. Was it in lieu of a farewell, or an apology of sorts, or an effort to rid himself of anything which might remind him of her? she could not reach any sort of conclusion, and knew that it would stand as an unanswered question forever, since it hardly seemed likely that she would encounter him again. she sighed over her widely differing impressions of him, and wondered at the part of her that regretted him.

she noticed a small silken book marker within it, and opened it to find it marking ‘Lines composed a Few Miles Above tintern Abbey.’ Wondering whether it could be a silent message to her or merely an oversight, she began slowly reading. It was the poem he had quoted to her during their walk, she discovered with a twinge, and read on in the lengthy verse to discover the undertones in Wordsworth’s simple yet powerful paean to the inspiring power of nature. It was not until she reached the end, though, that her sensibilities were truly engaged.

…Therefore let the moon

Shine on thee in thy solitary walk;

And let the misty mountain-winds be free

To blow against thee: and, in after years,
When these wild ecstasies shall be matured
Into a sober pleasure; when thy mind

Shall be a mansion for all lovely forms,

Thy memory be as a dwel ing-place

For all sweet sounds and harmonies; oh! then,
If solitude, or fear, or pain, or grief,

Should be thy portion, with what healing thoughts
Of tender joy wilt thou remember me,

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And these my exhortations! Nor, perchance—

If I should be where I no more can hear

Thy voice, nor catch from thy wild eyes these gleams
Of past existence—wilt thou then forget

That on the banks of this delightful stream
We stood together, and that I, so long

A worshipper of Nature, hither came

Unwearied in that service: rather say

With warmer love—oh! with far deeper zeal

Of holier love. Nor wilt thou then forget,
That after many wanderings, many years

Of absence, these steep woods and lofty cliffs,
And this green pastoral landscape, were to me
More dear, both for themselves and for thy sake!

A tear came to her eye as she read the passage once and then again. If this was indeed a message for her, she could not help but be moved by it—yet the previous night he had ignored her in favour of another woman, treating Miss temple with a warmth and charm that he had never directed at her.
If he still cares for me, why did he make his attentions to the fashionable
Miss Temple? If he no longer cares, why mark the verse? Teasing, teasing man!

I will think no more about him,
she thought firmly.

Her resolution was for a short time voluntarily kept as she went downstairs to meet charlotte’s inquiries and plans for the day. However, her thoughts could not be kept at bay when her friend looked at her shrewdly and said, “you seemed quite taken by surprise by the news of Mr. Darcy’s departure, Lizzy.”

“I had heard nothing of it last night,” elizabeth prevaricated, “so it was something of a surprise, yes.”

“oh, Lizzy,” charlotte said, her voice filled with sympathy. “I am sorry you had to witness that scene last night. I would truly have thought Mr.

Darcy above indulging in that sort of behaviour in front of you; I had thought better of him. Perhaps you are fortunate that matters went no further between you than they did.”

Wearily elizabeth thought how simple the world must look from charlotte’s perspective. Would that she could be so uncomplicated!

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“charlotte, I recognize that you are quite wedded to this notion of yours that Mr. Darcy was enamoured of me, but I assure you that there was never an understanding of any sort between us.”

Her friend’s look of silent compassion almost proved too much for elizabeth as she came to the quiet realization that it was not a coincidence that this time she had not denied having feelings of her own towards him.