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Authors: Abigail Reynolds

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BOOK: What Would Mr. Darcy Do?
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Darcy, fortunate in finding himself rapidly dismissed by Mrs. Bennet in favor of her civilities to Mr. Bingley, took the opportunity to sit in the chair nearest Elizabeth. As so often in the past, he was silent, seeming content merely to be near her. Elizabeth herself felt far from calm, and was perturbed by her acute awareness of his proximity.

“Have you come from Pemberley, Mr. Darcy?” asked Elizabeth, carefully watching her embroidery.

“Yes, I only arrived at Netherfield late yesterday.”

“It is early yet for a hunting party.”

“I did not come to go hunting.”

Elizabeth glanced up and met his eyes. His intent gaze was on her; she had forgotten the danger of losing herself in those dark eyes. A slight smile touched the corners of his mouth, and her spirits fluttered in response. Forcibly collecting her thoughts, she said, “I am sure Mr. Bingley is most happy to have your company, especially since his visit to Pemberley earlier this summer was cut short.”

“I am very happy to be here.”

He has received the letter, she thought with agitation. Something had altered in his demeanor since they had last met, some sense, perhaps, of assurance. Aloud, she said, “I hope Miss Darcy was well when you saw her last.”

“Quite well. She greatly enjoys your correspondence,” he replied. “Your last letter was a particular favorite, I believe.”

“I… am always glad to hear from her. I hope it will allow me to know her better; she seems less shy in her letters.”

“Sometimes there are things that are easier to say in a letter than in person, I believe.”

“I suspect you are correct, sir,” she responded, her cheeks flushed.

The conversation lapsed, and they sat in silence for some minutes, listening to the cheerful discussion of wedding plans across the room.

“They seem very happy,” Darcy commented.

“Yes, I believe they are. I suspect that we may owe thanks to you for Mr. Bingley’s precipitous return to Netherfield.”

“It was long overdue,” he acknowledged.

Elizabeth wondered how anyone in the room could possibly be oblivious to the rising tension between the two of them. Her cheeks felt hot enough to make her long for a fan.

In some desperation, she said, “Mr. Darcy, would you care to view our gardens? They are particularly lovely at this time of year.”

Darcy’s smile grew deeper. “A delightful idea, Miss Bennet.”

When Elizabeth told her mother of this intention, Mrs. Bennet pulled her aside into the hallway. “An excellent plan, Lizzy,” she whispered. “That will keep him out of Mr. Bingley’s way. I hope you will not mind it too much: it is all for Jane’s sake, you know.” Her daughter could not help feeling slightly amused by this interpretation.

Elizabeth was more than relieved to be leaving the stifling confines of the crowded drawing room. Stepping outside, she closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath of the fresh air. Feeling revitalized, she favored Darcy with an unrestrained smile.

Darcy’s eyes warmed in response, and Elizabeth found her pulse quickening. As they began their progress across the lawn, Elizabeth found herself walking closer to Darcy than was strictly necessary. She was amazed that she could feel at the same time both so agitated and so content.

“Miss Bennet?”

“Yes, Mr. Darcy?” She smiled up at him.

“Would it be inappropriate for me to tell you how happy I was to receive your letter?”

Elizabeth, sensible of a certain fluttering inside her, raised an eyebrow. “I doubt it could be any more inappropriate than it was for me to write it in the first place,” she said impertinently. “Perhaps I should be grateful you were not offended.”

“Hardly, Miss Bennet. If that was offensive, please feel free to offend me at any time.”

“Are you encouraging me, sir?” she asked with mock disapproval.

“Very much so.” His gaze turned serious. “I have missed you, Elizabeth,” he said softly, speaking her name as if it were the most intimate of endearments.

Elizabeth felt an array of sharp sensations course through her. She felt unable to respond, or perhaps more truly that should she attempt to respond, she might say too much, so she limited herself to drawing closer to his side and taking his arm. Though the contact gave her a surge of pleasure, she almost immediately doubted her wisdom in initiating it; she had forgotten the power his touch had on her, and she shivered as she felt his breath in her hair.

“You are perfectly safe, Miss Bennet. We are in full view of the house,” he said, misinterpreting her reaction.

“I appreciate your reassurance, sir, but I assure you that I do not feel unsafe.”

He put his free hand lightly over hers. “I am glad to know that you recognize that I do still have some self-control where you are concerned.”

“Are we returning to the question of self-control, then, sir?” She looked up at him teasingly.

“Miss Bennet, I will happily discourse on any subject matter of your choice, but perhaps it would be wiser to focus on patience rather than self-control.”

Elizabeth felt it safest to change the subject. “I understand that you had the opportunity to see my uncle and aunt Gardiner when you were late in London.”

He gave her a questioning look. “I did indeed have the pleasure of calling on them,” he said somewhat cautiously.

“So my aunt told me when I spent several days with them last week.” She added playfully, “It would appear that you have obtained quite an advocate in Mr. Gardiner. He could not praise you enough to my father when he was in London.”

“I am honored,” said Darcy, “especially as I suspect my reputation with your family can benefit from any advocacy that is available. I assume from my reception earlier that your parents are still unaware of our… more recent encounters?”

“I assure you that you could not possibly have got away from my mother with the ease you did had she the slightest idea!”

“Nor, I expect, would I have been allowed to walk out with you alone.”

Elizabeth blushed. “Fortunately, the Gardiners have been most tactful in that regard, and settle for singing your praises at any opportunity. I have limited myself to noting that you improve upon further acquaintance,” she said playfully, glancing up at him through her lashes with a look of mock seriousness.

“I hope to have sufficient further acquaintance in which to continue to improve, then, Miss Bennet.”

“Will you be remaining at Netherfield until the wedding, Mr. Darcy?”

“No, unfortunately I can stay but two days, as I must return to Pemberley quite shortly owing to a situation there that requires my personal intervention.”

Elizabeth, startled by the depth of disappointment she felt, said, “I am surprised you would make such a long journey for such a short stay.”

“Surely, Miss Bennet, you must have known when you wrote to me, that I would not be able to stay away,” he said softly.

Elizabeth cast her eyes down in embarrassment. “No, sir, in fact I did not know that.”

“You are less than certain of me? You need not be.”

“It is difficult to be certain of anything at times such as these.”

“Elizabeth, you know what my hopes and wishes are.”

“Mr. Darcy,” she responded slowly, struggling to find the words and the courage to express herself, “while you may rest assured that I receive your words with gratitude and pleasure, please understand that there have been a great many changes in my life of late, sir, not the least of which concern you. A month ago I had every expectation of my four sisters remaining at home with me for some time; now, I face living apart from my dearest Jane for the first time, and I do not expect to see my youngest sister again beyond the briefest of visits. Many things in my family will not be the same again, and I include myself in that. That same month ago I fully expected never to see you again, sir, and certainly in no way could I have foreseen the changes that would occur in a bare three days in Lambton. I have done things I would never have imagined, and I have learned that I did not know myself so well as I had thought.” She paused, and risked a glance at Darcy.

He looked thoughtful. “And time is needed to accept these changes before facing any others?”

Elizabeth nodded silently.

“I can be patient, if I know I have reason to hope.”

She found herself longing for his touch, and fought her body’s treacherous urges. She forced herself to say, “And there is another, less pleasant matter which must be faced.”

“And that is?”

“To my regret, I am forced to call brother a man whose name you rightfully must wish never to hear again.”

Darcy stopped and turned to face her. With determination, he said slowly, “I will not attempt to conceal that I would wish never to hear of or see George Wickham again, but please understand me clearly, Miss Bennet, I will not allow him to come between you and me. I will not let him cost me what is dearest to me ever again. And if this requires that I acknowledge his existence upon occasion, so be it.”

Relief coursed through her. “I will endeavor to remember that.”

“Thank you.”

Elizabeth, feeling overwhelmed by the import of their conversation, ran her fingers through the flowers as she passed. She paused for a moment, then broke off a sprig of flowers, allowing the sweet scent to soothe her restless spirits. He raised an eyebrow. “Lavender, Mr. Darcy. It is a favorite of mine.”

“An unusual favorite—I believe most ladies would choose the rose,” Darcy said, and Elizabeth felt gratitude that he had so well understood her need to move to a more neutral issue.

“Perhaps what pleases me is different. Lavender is not so bright or showy as roses are, but it is hardier and smells as sweet.”

“If we are to be choosing flowers for their virtues, perhaps I should give you forget-me-nots.”

“Then we both favor the flowers of the springtime, for I would have to choose sweet williams for you,” she said daringly.

Their eyes caught and held. Elizabeth found her breath coming quickly. Darcy reached out a hand and touched the inside of her wrist. “Miss Bennet, I have said I can be patient if I have hope. Can you give me that?”

Blushing, she said, “I believe you already know the answer to that, Mr. Darcy.”

“Some answers need to be heard.”

Elizabeth felt dizzy. “Sir, if I were to follow only the dictates of my heart, you may rest assured that you would be satisfied.”

The power of his gaze as he gripped her hand tightly was irresistible. He reached out to touch her face, and she became achingly conscious of how little she wished to resist him. Carefully, she looked away, and taking his arm once again, directed them to begin walking again. Lightly, she said, “I would remind you, sir, that we still remain in full view of the house.”

“But it would be difficult for an observer to see in detail at this distance,” he said, allowing his lips to caress her hair lightly. Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face gently up until their eyes met again. “And no one will hear if you call me by my name.”

She could not resist him. Her longing was evident in her voice as she whispered, “Fitzwilliam.” His eyes blazed, and, as if hypnotized, she watched his face lowering toward hers until she could resist the pull no longer, and raised her lips to his.

Somehow Darcy found the strength to pull back after the briefest taste of the pleasure of her kiss. “Dearest, loveliest Elizabeth,” he murmured.

Because she could not stop herself, she raised a hand and touched the tips of her fingers to his cheek. The feeling of his skin seemed to burn down her arm, and her face unconsciously reflected the yearning she felt. Darcy closed his eyes against the invitation he read in her eyes, and, taking her hand from his cheek, he kissed her palm, her fingers, the soft skin inside her wrist. He heard the sharp intake of her breath, and felt the last of his control beginning to dissolve. “Elizabeth,” he said urgently, “we must not…” But even as he spoke, he was drawing her into his arms and seeking her mouth with ever-increasing urgency.

Elizabeth’s astonishment in the pleasure of his kisses paled next to the intoxicating response she experienced as she felt his body against hers, the passion of his kisses deepening from moment to moment. Realizing how close she was coming to losing herself in his arms, she somehow forced herself to pull away.

He released her immediately. Unable to bring herself to look at his face, she turned away from him, and, with feelings of the deepest mortification for her behavior, covered her eyes with her hand.

“Shall we return to the house, then?” asked Darcy, his voice slightly unsteady.

She nodded, still avoiding looking at him. As they walked, she sought desperately for some comment to make light of the situation, but her thoughts were still too full of the sensation of his kisses.

“Miss Bennet, it seems I must make a habit of apologizing to you for my behavior. I would like to assure you that I do not usually engage in this sort of conduct, though I fear you would have every reason to disbelieve me under the circumstances; however, it is true, and I regret most sincerely having offended you.”

“I thank you, sir, but I am not offended, except at my own behavior.”

“Please, do not blame yourself in any way; I am completely at fault,” Darcy responded, not without distress.

“That is most courteous of you to say, sir, but we both know that the conduct of neither of us, if strictly examined, was irreproachable.”

“If so, I am still much more at fault than you.” Tentatively, he asked, “Miss Bennet, I beg of you, if it is not too much to ask, to tell me what upsets you so much that you will not look at me?”

Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth crossed her arms in front of her and turned to regard him. In a pained voice, she asked, “What must you think of me?”

“You are concerned about what I think of you?” A relieved look lightened his face. “My dear Miss Bennet, I think of you as a virtuous young woman who I sincerely hope will be my future wife, and I count myself among the most fortunate of men that you apparently have enough feeling for me as to occasionally allow that feeling to overwhelm your sense of propriety where I am concerned. Please, you need feel no concern whatsoever on this subject.”

BOOK: What Would Mr. Darcy Do?
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