Page 28 of A Cleverly (Un)contrived Compromise (Love’s Little Helpers #3)

CHAPTER 28

D arcy had more reason than ever to seek Elizabeth’s company, but he found himself in the frustrating position of being often in her presence but never in a circumstance allowing private conversation.

It was true that her friends and family—with the expected exception of Miss Mary—were happy to turn the other eye and allow a pair of young lovers to steal a few moments together.

Not so his own sister.

Not only did Georgiana stick like a bur to his side, but she had also adopted the custom of riding early with him, thus preventing his morning encounters with Elizabeth.

All obstacles aside, Darcy did manage to relate the story of Wickham’s nearly successful seduction of Georgiana during a soiree at Lucas Lodge. Thankfully, Elizabeth was insightful and had drawn the correct conclusion that the betrayal Georgiana had suffered had been at Wickham’s hand. She would tell her father what was necessary, and Wickham would never again be permitted to cross Longbourn’s threshold.

But Georgiana’s attachment to Bingley and Darcy’s reasons for approving of the eventual match required absolute privacy and more time to fully explain. Darcy resented the necessity of telling Elizabeth at all when the precious exchanges they shared were too few and far between. He craved her clever conversation. They were in each other’s company every day, and yet he missed her.

With only one more week until their wedding day, Darcy despaired of ever having a private word with Elizabeth before they were wed. If only Georgiana were stronger. If only she did not rely so much on him. If only he were a better brother… These guilty thoughts gnawed at his bones.

Already that day, Georgiana had frustrated his plan to speak with Elizabeth during his morning ride even though he had departed a good quarter of an hour earlier than normal. She did so again at the Philipses, who had kindly invited them for tea.

Now Darcy paced Netherfield’s music room while Georgiana practiced and Miss Bingley turned the pages, planning how he could escape to Longbourn unnoticed and without being followed.

There was a knock at the door, and the butler cleared his throat. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Miss Catherine Bennet,” he announced.

Elizabeth breezed inside the room like a breath of fresh air to a suffocating Darcy. Her complexion was bright from exercise, her skirts damp from the fields and paths.

Darcy’s favorite kitten followed her, bumping his head against her leg and rubbing against her skirts until Elizabeth leaned down to rub her hand along his shiny black back. He arched to match the movement, wrapping his tail around her hand and meowing up at her while all the usual pleasantries were exchanged.

Bingley exclaimed, "He likes you! I did not think he liked anyone except his own mother and Darcy."

Richard added, "He is a gentleman selective in his friendships." Jerking his head toward Darcy, he added with a wink, "Reminds me of someone else I know."

Elizabeth laughed, and Darcy’s mood lightened. "Then I am doubly honored." She stroked down the cat’s back one more time. If Darcy could reverse time, he would not have been in such a hurry to escape from Bingley’s study. What he would give for just five minutes alone with Elizabeth.

"Darcy would make an excellent name for a cat," Richard mumbled, rubbing his chin.

Teasingly, Elizabeth called “Darcy” to the kitten. He yawned and blinked his eyes slowly at Richard as though to convey the ridiculousness of his suggestion. A finer feline Darcy had never met.

Elizabeth chuckled. “He does not agree with you, Colonel.”

Miss Kitty joined the other ladies by the instrument after snatching up another kitten, who had been flicking his tail and staring at the fringe dangling from Miss Bingley’s sleeves. She planted a kiss on top of his head. “Is this the rudy—”

Miss Bingley pounced on the mistake. “Rudy? What is a rudy?”

Miss Kitty giggled, too accustomed to her sister’s teasing to be bothered by Miss Bingley’s mean-spirited question. “Rude, rowdy. I could not decide which one, so they must have decided to tumble off my tongue together.”

Bingley observed, “The same happens to me all the time. There are simply too many words to describe one thing.”

“Precisely! How am I to choose only one when there are so many choices?”

“My thoughts exactly!” Bingley looked about the room for support and then back to Miss Kitty when he got none. He reached out and scratched the top of the kitten’s head. “Rudy. That would make a fine name for this cat.”

Miss Kitty beamed. “Rudy. Sounds like the name of a mischievous little boy with muddy boots, torn trousers, and jam smeared on his cheek.”

“And a frog in his pocket!” added Bingley.

“Or it could be short for Rudolph! A fine, dignified name!”

They laughed until Miss Bingley spoke. “It is a pity Mr. Collins left Longbourn so soon after his arrival.”

The mention of Mr. Collins had the same effect on their party as a wet blanket over a fire. Bingley, who had been so talkative moments before, went noticeably silent.

With a shrug, Miss Bingley added cheerily, “I had thought he hoped to marry one of your sisters.”

Miss Kitty blushed. “Yes, well, he had his eye on Lizzy… but…”

“Then you might be the fortunate one,” Miss Bingley said, clapping her hands together in spurious glee.

“Me?” Miss Kitty choked. “Dear me, no, no, no. I could never agree to marry such a ridiculous man.”

“Oh, but your mother made it very clear that he meant to take one of you as his bride. I do not suspect he will be away for long.”

What did Miss Bingley mean by this questioning?

Elizabeth replied, “Just because a gentleman proposes does not signify that the lady is obliged to accept his offer. The decisions we are allowed to make are few and precious, and I hope my sisters would choose happiness and love over security and expectations.”

Darcy frowned. Elizabeth’s argument was sound, but was that how she still felt about their match? She had not wanted to accept the arrangement, but Darcy had thought they understood each other better now.

Bingley broke his uncharacteristic silence. “Let us enjoy our present company without lamenting Mr. Collins. I am sure he had his reasons for departing when he did. Let us speak of something else.” His words and accompanying facial expression directed to his sister brooked no argument.

Miss Kitty asked Georgiana, “Will you spend the rest of winter in London or at Pemberley?”

Georgiana’s eyes shifted between Miss Kitty and Darcy. “I do not know. I have always spent the winter at Pemberley with my brother.”

Elizabeth jumped in. “Then you must come with us.” She turned to Darcy, “That is, if we are to return to Pemberley. Your family might wish us to stay longer in town.”

An image of Elizabeth sliding down the snow-covered hills, peals of laughter trailing in her wake, flitted through Darcy's mind. Skating on the lake and warming their fingers with cups of hot cider, throwing snowballs, reading by the fire... Elizabeth had not yet been to Pemberley, but Darcy already saw her there as clearly as though the images in his mind were memories—as though she had always been a part of his life. That she might feel trapped in their arrangement gutted Darcy.

Richard clapped him on the back. "You must bring your bride to the hot springs at Matlock. Mother will insist on packing a picnic and making a day of it.”

Miss Kitty swayed on her feet. “How romantic! Imagine sipping chocolate and eating cake in the pools while the snow fluttered down around you?"

The thought of Elizabeth surrounded by steam, snowflakes drifting onto her hair and glistening off the tips of her eyelashes stirred Darcy's blood and conjured all sorts of images which were entirely inappropriate to contemplate.

He had to talk to her. He had to tell her his plan for Bingley. She would not be happy, but he would plead his case and be honest with her.

“It is settled. If Pemberley is where everyone wishes to go, then we shall travel there directly after the wedding. Now, if you will excuse me for a few minutes, I promised to lend Mr. Bennet a book from the library.”

Darcy saw Richard’s smirk. If Elizabeth did not take his hint, his cousin would make certain she did.

He left the room and turned down the hall, wishing he had thought of a better excuse when the stark shelves offered few books to lend to a well-read gentleman like Mr. Bennet.

Picking up Sense and Sensibility, Darcy found his place and attempted to resume reading, but the words on the page failed to capture his attention when his thoughts were full of Elizabeth. Would she ever have chosen him?

The white-collared kitten trotted into the library and hopped onto the window seat, pretending to ignore Darcy while never letting him out of his sight.

Darcy sat, trying to take no notice of the cat and purposely sitting with his back to the door so he would not obsess over how long it would be before Elizabeth walked through it.

How should he begin? Darcy fretted.

The kitten hopped down from the window seat to sit at Darcy’s feet. Stretching in place, he looked up expectantly.

Setting aside his book, Darcy scooped him up, resting the fluff ball against his chest. "You have excellent taste in friends, if I do say so. What think you of the name Darcy?"

The kitten bumped his head against Darcy's chin and purred.

"It is a grand name, but something tells me you already know that."

Another head bump.

Darcy chuckled. "So long as you do not befriend Miss Bingley. No end of rumors would be started should someone say, 'Darcy, climb down from Miss Bingley's lap. You will ruin her gown.'"

The kitten yawned, showing his pointy teeth.

Darcy remembered the stories his father had read to him of brave knights and their leader, King Arthur. Darcy had dreamed of going on daring adventures with his band of closest friends, freeing their domain of monsters and uniting the kingdom. One of the knights had also served as King Arthur’s butler. Not only was he a warrior, but he was one of King Arthur’s most trusted men.

“Lucas.” Darcy spoke in a low tone appropriate for a library. “Do you like that? Sir Lucas Darcy, unless you prefer a different title. His Lordship the Right Honorable Lucas is a mouthful.” The kitten yawned.

With a chuckle, Darcy said, “Of course. Why be named after the brave butler when you could be named after the king? Does Arthur suit you better?” The kitten purred contentedly, and Darcy told him the stories he remembered from his youth as he waited for Elizabeth.

* * *

Elizabeth waited until Kitty engaged Miss Darcy in conversation to slip away. How strange that Jane had claimed other obligations and could not accompany her to Netherfield Park. Mary had a lesson with her music tutor, and while Lydia was eager to walk as far as Meryton, she had no interest in any gentleman not wearing a red coat. Fortunately, Kitty had offered to walk with Elizabeth, and now she was grateful for the distraction Kitty provided. Elizabeth had understood Darcy’s look and had waited on pins and needles until she could escape.

She paused at the open library door, stopping when she heard Darcy’s soothing voice talking softly. He sat facing away from her toward the gardens, but she saw his reflection in the glass.

He cuddled the black kitten with the white paws and collar, talking to it gently while it paid rapt attention. It was a tender moment. Elizabeth's reaction to it was so intense, it stole her breath. She imagined Darcy holding their first child. He would make a wonderful father. He would be an excellent husband. Elizabeth could hardly believe her good fortune—she who had been intent on refusing his offer! What a mistake that would have been.

Stepping inside the library, Elizabeth tiptoed to the chair. The cat saw her and instantly lost interest in the story he was being told. After an impressive yawn, he hopped down to the floor. “Sir Arthur has a nice sound to it.”

Darcy rose, his smile quickly fading. “Thank you for coming.” He stepped forward, careful to avoid Arthur's tail flicking back and forth on the carpet. “There is something I must—” Like a flash, Arthur darted between Darcy’s feet, bumping against him with a vociferous meow and pushing him off balance.

Elizabeth reached for him, doing her best to avoid trampling the kitten.

They weaved and wobbled until, with a firm tug, Darcy pulled her into his arms. Equilibrium, which neither of them had managed on their own, was secured once they were supporting each other. He held her, his breath as ragged as her own. His fingers touched her jaw, his thumb trailed over her lips. “Elizabeth?”

“Fitzwilliam,” she whispered huskily.

The next moment, his lips brushed against hers, featherlight. Grasping his coat lapels, she pulled herself up, higher, closer. A delicious hum spread over her, tingling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes.

“Miss Elizabeth?” a voice in the hall called.

Fitzwilliam groaned, and Elizabeth audibly sighed.

Miss Darcy had been like a thistle stuck to Fitzwilliam’s coat since her arrival. Elizabeth did her best to be patient with the girl, but with only a week until the wedding, Elizabeth wanted every moment she could steal with Fitzwilliam—more stolen kisses.

With profound regret, she whispered, “I should go to her.”

He twisted his lips and nodded, his discontent plainly writ on his face.

She pulled against his arms half-heartedly, and it was only with a groan that he finally released his hold.

Would it really be so bad if we were caught in an embrace? Elizabeth wondered. They were engaged; the wedding would be in a week.

“Miss Elizabeth?” Miss Darcy called.

Elizabeth sighed again. She must be patient. Turning to leave, she glanced over her shoulder. The yearning she saw in Fitzwilliam’s eyes nearly drew her back to him. She knew he would not object and would risk his little sister seeing them embrace.

At his feet sat a self-satisfied kitten, who licked his paw and watched her with one eye. Content with his ministrations, he set his paw on the ground and very notably winked at Elizabeth.

She gasped. “We are keeping him, are we not?”

Voice still gruff, Fitzwilliam replied, “I would not dream of Arthur living with anyone else.”

If the kitten continued to throw Fitzwilliam and Elizabeth into each other’s arms, he would be a most welcome addition to their family.