Elizabeth stood behind the partially opened door, which afforded her just enough seclusion to espy her betrothed without drawing everyone’s attention. Will my heart always sing this same sweet serenade each and every time I behold his striking person? He had that certain air about him that distinguished him from every other person in the room.
Everything about this man excited her: the soul-piercing look in his eyes, the velvety rich baritone of his voice, the way he moved across the floor. Elizabeth’s mind wandered to the time she first saw him at the Meryton assembly and that intense moment when their eyes met from across the crowded room. What intrigue had surrounded his entrance: Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the young master of Pemberley in Derbyshire—tall, handsome, and most importantly, he was a single man with more than ten thousand pounds a year. Then, everyone soon discovered him to be proud and above his company. Elizabeth had been on the receiving end of the sternest of his disapprobation when she overheard him tell his friend Charles Bingley that she was fairly tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. Oh, what a mistake that had turned out to be, subjecting them to conflict and drama as Elizabeth swore she would hate him for all eternity. How she had despised him for his arrogance and what she had once believed as his indifference towards the feelings of others.
What a thin line it is between love and hate indeed, for his having since proved himself to be the best man she knew, she was certain that her love for him would last for all eternity.
Elizabeth, now fully aware that this man who might have any woman he desired did not look at her to find fault but out of love and affection, could say with certainty that he was decent and kind. His selfless generosity on my sister’s behalf is a testament to his goodness. Falling in love with Mr. Darcy became so easy once she had made a start.
She would not venture to say he was without fault. However, her aunt Gardiner had it right upon first making his acquaintance at Pemberley when she said he had not an ill-natured look. She went on to say there was something pleasing about his mouth when he spoke. And there was something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart.
A wave of heat spread over her body when, after a moment, her eyes met his. Mischief graced her countenance as Elizabeth, with a slight shift of her head, silently beckoned he join her. Darcy uttered a few imperceptible words to Bingley, who sat next to him, and then stood and walked to her. Undetected by the room’s other occupants, Elizabeth captured his hand and started leading him down the hall.
“What are you about?”
“You looked as though you needed rescuing. Pray follow me.”
“Where are we going?”
“For once, I find my aunt and my mama gave voice to reason. You, sir, appear in great need of sustenance. I have been busy taking measures to redress their complaints.”
“I wondered what I had done to cause you to abandon me earlier.”
“Apparently, you did not hear my mama decrying your emaciated state.”
“I dare say one would have had to be deaf not to have heard her.”
“Mr. Darcy, your abundant power of ignoring the ridiculous amazes me.”
“Actually, my mind was more agreeably engaged, contemplating the number of days until I am allowed to sate my desire for sustenance of a different kind.”
Elizabeth bit her lowered lip to mask her astonishment. “Well, sir, I do hope you will enjoy what I am offering instead.”
Darcy’s expression upon entering the room and espying the arrangements Elizabeth had made was just what she had hoped it would be: wide-eyed with a stunning smile that unvaryingly unleashed waves of joy in her heart.
In the short time she was away, Elizabeth had exercised extraordinary measures overseeing the preparation of a small feast of seasonal fruits, assorted breads, cheeses, and wine for Darcy’s pleasure.
“What is this?”
“We cannot have the master of Pemberley return to his estate so thin and frail that he risks being unrecognisable.”
“Heaven forbid!”
Elizabeth led Darcy to the table. “I invite you to have a seat.”
“After you, my love,” said he.
“Actually, I mean to serve you.”
“If that is the case, then—” Darcy looked at the young woman stationed by the side table. “It appears your services are no longer required.”
The poor girl’s lower lip quivered. Elizabeth hurried to the servant’s side and placed her hand upon her shoulder. “Fear not, Sarah. I am certain what Mr. Darcy meant to say is you may be excused.”
Relief poured over her face as Sarah dropped a grateful curtsy. “Oh, thank you, Miss Elizabeth.” The girl wasted no time quitting the room.
Darcy was still standing when Elizabeth returned to his side. “Again, I invite you to have a seat,” she said in an impertinent, albeit teasing, manner.
Darcy rested his hands on the back of the chair next to his own, his stance equally as resolute.
Elizabeth arched her brow. “How shall I serve you properly if I am seated beside you?”
Darcy lifted his brow in turn. “Once you make a start, I am rather certain you will do the job nicely.”
I sense a challenge buried in his tone. Whereas Elizabeth’s courage always rose with any attempt to intimidate her, she meant to have fun this evening. Thus, she sat in the chair in response to his determined attitude in order that they might get on with her scheme.
Upon sitting, Darcy said, “This is quite a feast you have spread before me. Surely I am not expected to partake of all this alone.”
“I suppose I might have a small bite or two, but not before I have made sure you are fully satiated, sir.”
Darcy picked up the glass and took a sip of wine all the while regarding Elizabeth with a piercing stare. Elizabeth swallowed in an effort to settle the volcanic flutters erupting inside her. Wanting, nay needing, to do something that might calm her, she reached for a plate and began filling it with food.
When she picked up a slice of apple, he reached for her hand and guided it to his mouth. “You did say you would serve me, did you not?”
Again, she swallowed. “Indeed.” Elizabeth held the apple slice just so, and Darcy took his first bite and then another until it was all gone. Her fingers now upon his wonderfully soft lips sent her pulse racing. Flushed, she lowered her hand.
Pleased by the steady rise and fall of her chest, he imagined his fingers trailing along the edge of her décolletage … followed by his lips. Darcy picked up a slice of fruit and raised it to Elizabeth’s lips. She opened her mouth and accepted his offering. He traced his now empty fingers across her lips. Their gazes met. Elizabeth saw a bit of teasing in his eyes that eased a bit of the unrest coursing deep inside her body. Darcy reached over, picked up his wineglass, and brought it to Elizabeth’s lips.
She took a sip and then another, enjoying the sensations of wine washing down her throat, easing her reservations, and ushering in a bout of playfulness. “It is I who should be serving you, sir.”
“I much rather we take turns nourishing each other.”
“Then, it is my turn.” She picked up a piece of bread and smothered it with sweet and succulent preserves. She raised it to his lips. Again, Darcy opened his willing mouth and encouraged her to feed him. A tiny drop of spread lingered on her finger. Darcy took her hand and commenced bestowing a fair amount of attention upon each trembling digit, including those that showed no evidence of needing such ardent consideration.
“Oh, Mr. Darcy, you were indeed in need of sustenance.”
“I am famished, and in a manner that I am likely to remain at least until—”
“Until—”
With utmost affection, Darcy kissed the base of Elizabeth’s hand. Her skin was soft and warm, with the sweet lingering scent of rosewater. Unable to stop himself, he kissed her palm tenderly. She gasped. Her hand trembled. For so long, he had found himself wishing for such a moment alone with Elizabeth; although, sitting at the table in the dining parlour of a household as lively as Longbourn was hardly conducive to his purposes. His mind drifted. In mere days, he would bring his bride to Pemberley where he would be at liberty to enjoy such pleasures as those dancing through his imagination in any number of Pemberley’s rooms at any time he would like.
An opening door and swooshing fabrics ripped Darcy from his dreams of making love to his bride. Darcy released Elizabeth’s hand. Hoping his face did not betray his frustration, he stood.
“Oh, here you are, Lizzy. I wondered where you had run off. I see you followed my advice and had Cook prepare a light repast for Mr. Darcy. Oh, sir, I do hope you find it to your liking.” Without awaiting his response, Mrs. Bennet spun round on her heels. “Where in heavens is Sarah? She should be here. I shall speak to Hill at once.”
Elizabeth said, “No, Mama! You need not bother. I told Sarah that her services were not needed.”
“Not needed? It is her job to be here to attend our honoured guest. Oh, pray you will forgive this lapse, Mr. Darcy.”
Darcy cleared his throat. “I am not offended, madam. Please do not trouble yourself on my behalf. In fact, I shall deem it a great service if you would give this matter no further consideration.”
Ever desiring to garner his approbation, Mrs. Bennet studied the table. “Mr. Darcy needs a more substantial meal, Lizzy. I shall speak with Cook myself.”
“No—Mama, this is quite sufficient.”
“Well, if you are certain.” After a moment, she beckoned Elizabeth to her side. Speaking in a hushed tone, she said, “Mind you, Lizzy, it does not do to underestimate Mr. Darcy’s appetite. Surely such a man has cultivated quite a discerning palate and is, no doubt, a connoisseur of the finest tastes in life.”
Elizabeth suffered embarrassment not simply for herself, but for her betrothed as well. She said nothing determining it was the quickest way to encourage her mother’s departure. Some moments later, Mrs. Bennet reluctantly took her leave. Elizabeth had not forgotten the air of intrigue pursuant to Mr. Darcy’s unspoken promises that had filled the room just moments earlier. She wasted no time in her endeavour to recapture it.
After reclaiming her own seat, she coaxed him to resume his former attitude. “Come, I must have you eat something more.” With no second thoughts over the liberties she exercised, Elizabeth arranged a linen napkin on his lap and commenced where they had left off.
Mr. Bennet wandered into the room and looked around. There, Jane and Bingley sat in the corner doing what they often did: bestowing their attention on no one other than themselves. His daughters Mary and Kitty sat in the opposite corner, behaving normally: the former, reading a book and the latter, twisting her curls mindlessly about her fingers. His wife and her sister Philips sat huddled on one of the sofas.
“Where are Lizzy and Mr. Darcy?”
Mrs. Philips and Mrs. Bennet swapped surreptitious glances. The latter said, “I am sure I do not know where the two of them have gone. At first, Lizzy quit the room, and then Mr. Darcy made some excuse and disappeared as well. Is that not true, Sister?”
“Indeed; however, I would not worry too much, for no doubt wherever they are, they are together ... doing what young people violently in love are wont to do with the eve of their nuptials so soon upon them. I am surprised that Jane and Mr. Bingley remain in company,” she said in a hushed voice meant only for the three of them. “Perhaps that young man has a better regulation of his passions than his friend.”
Suspecting his wife and her sister were keeping secrets, the silver-haired patriarch raised his bushy brows. This was his favourite daughter that they were speaking of, and while he had no doubt of her sensibility, he was not unaware of the proclivities of young lovers in love. True, he had grown rather fond of Mr. Darcy, but even now, with twenty-odd years of wedded life to his credit, he had not forgotten what it was once like to be violently in love.
Mr. Bennet sank into his favourite chair, buried his head in his paper, and commenced giving it much more attention than it warranted. Whilst Mrs. Philips went on pontificating in a manner that proved her unrefined bona fides, Mrs. Bennet determined to do nothing to dissuade her sister or preferably urge her along her way for the evening. Invariably, when the two sisters’ prattling was particularly uncouth, Mr. Bennet peered over his paper and gave it a good thump as a none too subtle means of evidencing his dismay.
At length, his curiosity to ascertain what had become of his second eldest daughter he no longer sought to ignore, so after a quarter of an hour passed, Mr. Bennet folded his paper, tucked it under his arm, and headed towards the door. In a matter of days, he would sequester himself in the sanctuary of his library, unencumbered by such burdensome dictates as spending time in company. As much as he did not wish to see his Lizzy stolen away to the wilds of Derbyshire, he looked forward to the calm that being a father of two daughters about to be married and committed to spending every waking hour in the company of their betrotheds did not afford.
After a while, Darcy’s mood had recovered from Mrs. Bennet’s untimely interruption. With any luck, there will be no more disruptions. He noted the twinkle in Elizabeth’s eyes. Her teasing smile always aroused his sensibilities. Surely she knows not what she does to me.
Darcy shifted in his seat. “I believe it is my turn to serve you.” He leaned close to Elizabeth and said, “First, I require a favour of you.”
“What is it, sir?”
“You must close your eyes.”
“If I do as you suggest, then how will I know when to open my mouth to accept your offering?”
“Trust me, my love, you will know.”
Elizabeth was about to say something in protest, but the touch of his fingers upon her lips silenced her.
“Close them,” he said. “Otherwise, my love, I will have no recourse but to blindfold you.” Merely mentioning such an enticing prospect resuscitated his former ardour. After Elizabeth did as he asked, he picked up a piece of bread and started coating it with sweet strawberry preserves.
“What is taking you so long? Or do you mean to starve me with anticipation?”
Darcy chuckled. “My, are you not impatient? No doubt you are unaccustomed to the immense pleasures afforded by delayed gratification.”
“No doubt you mean to teach me.”
“Indeed.” He brought the tiny morsel to her lips.
Before Elizabeth could open her mouth, her eyes flew open, and she jumped. Fighting to prevent throwing both hands in the air, Darcy dropped his hand on the table, preparing to stand.
“No—stay where you are, young man. Do not bother standing on my account,” said Mr. Bennet.
Darcy released a deep inward sigh of relief. The last thing in the world he wanted to do was stand erect just then. He surmised his future father-in-law must have deduced his predicament.
Elizabeth was all too aware of Mr. Darcy’s discomfort as she was hardly in a dissimilar state, despite evidencing none of the tell-tale signs. Her voice higher pitched and strained, she said, “Papa, I took the liberty of preparing a repast for Mr. Darcy.”
Mr. Bennet held up his hand. “There is no need to explain, dearest Lizzy. Now, I beg the two of you to pardon this interruption, for you were no doubt in the middle of discussing secret affairs. I fear I may have got in the way.”
“No, Papa.”
The wily elder man squinted over his spectacles. “Well, whatever the manner of your intercourse, I did not mean to interrupt you. I am merely in search of my paper.”
Elizabeth crossed her arms over her chest. “Papa, would that be the same paper you have tucked under your right arm?”
Feigning surprise, he pursed his lips. “Well, imagine that.” He shook his head. Scratching his whiskers, he said, “I can only attribute my lapse to old age. Father Time is catching up with me.” Again, he held out his hand, “I give you two leave to carry on as you were.” He continued a slow and steady pace towards the door opposite the side of the room where he had entered. “Bon appétit, young man.”
As glad as Darcy was to see Mr. Bennet quit the room, he considered the situation might have been far worse. By now, he was hardly in the mood to resume where he had left off.
Elizabeth’s soft voice pierced his frustrated musings. “Mr. Darcy, I believe it is still your turn.” The teasing twist of her lips was all it took to revive his flailing sentimentality.
Her easy playfulness reminded him of the reason he loved her so. How unfortunate he had spent as much time as he had denying his affections. That she had been immune to his charms never once occurred to him, and only after she had declared him the last man in the world that she could be prevailed upon to marry had he realised how unworthy had been his pretences to a woman so worthy of being pleased.
Even the embarrassing goings-on in the room down the hall could not persuade him against his ardent belief of being one of the luckiest men in all of England.
Her spirits rising once again to playfulness, Elizabeth, in her haste to ply Darcy with his next mouthful, spilt preserves on his crisp white cravat. Gasping, she immediately started removing the stained cloth from around his neck.
Her tiny fingers brushing his skin stirred him. Endeavouring to bridle his desires, he seized both her wrists in his tender grip. Darcy leaned forward, slowly erasing the distance between them and with that, all semblance of propriety. Releasing her hand, he rubbed his finger along her chin. His finger tingled as it skimmed across her soft skin. Elizabeth swept her tongue over her lower lip, sending his pulse racing. Darcy’s heart swelled in his chest.
If only we were at Pemberley, I would reach up and remove the pins from her hair so that it might fall loosely and sweep about her shoulders. He sighed. It will not do, at least not now when there is the threat of interruption at any moment.
Darcy’s supposition that it was only a matter of time before the next disruption proved painfully true when Elizabeth’s younger sister traipsed into the room. She threw her hand over her mouth in order to suppress a girlish giggle. “Oh, pardon me, Lizzy … Mr. Darcy. I was led to believe I might find Papa in here.”
Assuming a more decorous attitude, Elizabeth said, “I am afraid you missed Papa, Kitty.”
Kitty’s slumping shoulder spoke to her disappointment.
“What on earth is the matter, Kitty? Why do you wish to see Papa?”
“Oh, I simply must speak with him at once, for I am convinced that he will agree to allow me to visit Lydia now.” Kitty was on a mission that included badgering her father into submission by asking him the same question every day for over a month, hoping that he would indeed change his mind.
Elizabeth released a heavy sigh. Lydia must have planted that seed in Kitty’s fertile mind. Poor Kitty, albeit the older of the two, had so relied upon Lydia, and now with all the activities surrounding the two eldest sisters’ nuptials of late, Kitty bewailed her feelings of being even more insignificant.
Unfortunately, Kitty’s pleas to Elizabeth to speak to their father on her behalf went largely ignored and reminded Elizabeth of a missive she had received from Lydia, boasting of her imminent good fortune upon being the sister of not one but two rich gentlemen. What good fun it would be to attend the nuptials, she had proclaimed, and oh, how exciting were the prospects for gaiety at the many balls at Netherfield Park and even Pemberley.
Mr. Darcy’s edict that Mr. Wickham was never to be received at Pemberley was one against which Elizabeth could hardly argue, but Mr. Bingley had never expressed such sentiments. Elizabeth supposed the gentlemen’s paths would surely cross again sooner or later. I would much rather it was later—much later.
Kitty was preparing to take her leave when the door swung open. In marched one of the servants bearing a heavily laden tray, likely at Mrs. Bennet’s urgings. In the blink of an eye, a lanky dog burst into the room, headlong into the servant, knocking over the tray, which then crashed onto the floor, toppling the servant, and sending a tureen of soup soaring high in the air. Moreover, where did it land but straight atop the servant’s head? It was all he could do to keep the dog from lapping the soup from his face when another dog ran into the room and also partook of the feast.
Swatting the dogs away, the servant scrambled to his feet and tried to reclaim a modicum of dignity when in rushed yet another dog, toppling the gangly young man again. A rotund servant armed with a rolled up newspaper raced in behind the third dog. What a mess it was; one made even worse as the footmen took turns slipping and sliding. The havoc exacerbated further still as the dogs took turns loudly yapping and hungrily lapping up the waste.
Elizabeth recognised the exasperated turn of Mr. Darcy’s countenance, and although she knew she should not have enjoyed the unfolding chaos half as much as she did, she simply could not help herself. Wanting to mask her amusement with a measure of outrage she did not truly possess, one look at Kitty belied Elizabeth’s intention. Wonderfully entertained, Kitty laughed and smiled in a manner Elizabeth had not seen in her for months.
Espying another canine, a puppy with big round eyes, cowering in the corner of the room, Elizabeth’s busy mind attempted to sort out the confusion. Though she knew not what truly set off the mayhem, Elizabeth had no doubt of its instigator: the scraggly stray that Kitty had rescued just weeks ago. Loud and long-limbed with a tail that might as well have stretched a mile by the manner in which it disturbed everything in the dog’s wake, the poor creature did not belong indoors, for she was wholly unsuitable for polite company. However, Kitty would have it no other way, insisting that her pet, which she had named ‘Lady,’ was just as worthy as the other pets granted the shelter of the manor house. Supposing Kitty had adopted the mongrel as a means of placating her loneliness when her sister Lydia left, her parents did not have the heart to deny her pleas.
“What is the meaning of this disturbance?”
All eyes turned towards the stout butler looming in the doorway. Even the yelping dogs fell silent, but only for a moment. Upon assessing the situation for himself, he proceeded to Mr. Darcy’s side. “Sir, I beg your pardon. If you will bear with—” Two dogs, teeth flashing and jaws clenching, haggling over a cut of meat, ensnared themselves between the gentleman’s long legs, sending him careening over the table.
Darcy’s wine splashed on his tan waistcoat and dark trousers. His mouth flew open!
Knowing the deep-crimson liquid would certainly leave a nasty stain unless she acted precipitously, Elizabeth doused a linen cloth with water. Biting her lip, she was in the midst of dabbing the offending liquid, on the verge of venturing lower, when Darcy seized hold of her wrist.
Arising from his chair with utmost urgency, Darcy said, “Is there somewhere we might go to escape this madness?”
“Shall we return to the parlour with the others?”
Fully aware of his dishevelled state and wanting very much to have Elizabeth all to himself, Darcy said, “No—a place where we shall enjoy privacy of an uninterruptible nature.”