Page 11 of He Taught Me to Hope (Darcy and the Young Knight’s Quest #1)
S ome hours later in the quiet still of night, Elizabeth lay awake in her bed.
She felt quite satiated having given in to desires, the likes of which had been long forgotten.
The intense sensations were far more powerful than anything she had enjoyed theretofore, yet reminiscent of those feelings she had thought she might never experience again.
The intense emotions that flooded her being pursuant to little more than the touch of his fingers slowly caressing her own, bore testimony to what it must certainly feel like to have those same fingers gently massaging the length of her slender neckline, along the curves of her bosom, and setting upon a lingering, slow-paced, and piercing discovery of her body.
Once again, she recalled the scene that had occurred in the hallway, just outside the door of her apartment.
He had stood mere inches from her—close enough that the warmth of his body encompassed her own.
His beautiful eyes subtly swept over her, leaving her to know he was not looking at her to find fault.
Her immediate thought had been to rebuff his request for privacy, for what could be more private than the two of them standing alone, in a dim corridor, in the middle of the night with absolutely no one else about, not even a footman.
But he overwhelmed her by his presence. She did not say yes; then again, neither did she say no.
She stood face to face with her dream-time embodiment of perfection, and met his soul-piercing stare with a daringly inquisitive look of her own.
She could hardly account for the passage of time. In hindsight, it must not have been longer than a few seconds. The next thing she recalled was the gentle touch of his hand on hers.
“I feel as though we have gotten off to a horrible start,” he expressed. It occurred to Elizabeth she had been holding her breath. She consciously exhaled.
He continued, “Admittedly, it is entirely my fault. I accept all the blame.” He continued to look deeply into her eyes. “May we begin anew?” He then raised her hand to his lips and gently bestowed a kiss without breaking his alluring gaze.
Elizabeth lost her resolve in the wake of his self-assurance and diverted her eyes towards her bedroom door.
“To a new beginning,” he said as she slowly began to pull away. Releasing her hand at the last possible instant, he whispered, “Goodnight.”
The next morning, Darcy lingered at Netherfield far later than had been his habit.
He had hoped for a chance to see Elizabeth and perhaps persuade her to accompany him on an early morning walk.
Upon learning she was with her sister, he decided not to delay his morning ride any longer.
Somehow, he felt obliged at least to endeavour to ride out to see his young friend.
Darcy grew more and more concerned that the young lad had not been more open as regarded the details of his family.
He surmised if he remained a patient and attentive listener, in time the young lad might actually give a truthful account of his life.
Darcy thought he might even ask Elizabeth if she knew anything of the young boy from around those parts, who called himself Sir Lancelot .
Though he did not want to be a cause for disappointment for his young friend, Darcy was not of a mind to stay there long.
His thoughts were filled with the pleasing prospect of spending time with Elizabeth, whenever she was not by her sister’s side.
He planned the greater part of their day.
Given her fondness for reading, he considered he might find her in the library.
That would present a wonderful opportunity to discover her literary taste.
He imagined they might spend hours alone in the library; the likelihood Caroline or Bingley might encroach upon their private time was minimal.
After a brisk ride across an expansive, open stretch of the countryside, Darcy decided it was time he returned.
The stark reality of daybreak cast an entirely new light over Elizabeth’s sentiments. Am I out of my mind to be dreaming of this proud and arrogant man with his changeable moods? It is not right that I should be longing for his touch and savouring every fleeting encounter he and I have shared.
The first thing she did after preparing herself for the day was to return to her sister’s room. She was pleased to see Jane out of bed and sitting in the window seat staring out at Netherfield’s beautiful gardens.
“Jane, it is a joy to see you looking so much better this morning.”
Alas, Jane could not say the same of her sister. Elizabeth did not look well rested at all. “Yes, I feel much better. You, however, do not look very well. Pray tell me you have not succumbed to my ill-health.”
“I assure you it is not that which ails me.” Elizabeth went on to admit to Jane her heartbreak in having been separated from Ben, even if for the night, and in not being able to tuck him into bed.
What she did not confess, but suffered even stronger, was the danger she felt in being so close to a man to whom she found herself irresistibly and, given her circumstance, inexplicably drawn.
In light of the devastating effect he tended to have on her composure, she strongly believed if she did not leave Netherfield Park at once, she might do something that certainly was not in her best interest or the best interest of her family.
Darcy returned to the house to find the Bingleys were entertaining morning callers.
He entered the room and quickly glanced about in search of Elizabeth.
Some of the same people he had thought a vast deal about over the past few days, all sat together on the sofa in admiration of the pleasing ambiance of the room and the elegant furnishings.
Elizabeth was conspicuously absent. She must be with her sister still, he surmised.
As if aware of his friend’s disappointment, Bingley quickly relieved Darcy’s mind of that mistaken impression.
“Darcy, my friend, I am afraid you have missed Mrs. Carlton. She returned to her home whilst you were enjoying your morning ride. But look, her mother and sisters have come to call and to check on Miss Bennet.”
The tumult in Darcy’s mind was strong. What do you mean she is gone? he silently begged. He feigned politeness in spite of his bewilderment as Bingley made the introductions to Mrs. Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, Miss Kitty, and Miss Lydia.
Darcy reckoned he ought to make the most of it.
Though those people were repugnant to him, he realised it would not do to demonstrate his typically haughty and indifferent air, not when he entertained hopes of getting to know Elizabeth better.
He supposed he might even be a guest in their home at some point in the near future.
The fact that she had left Netherfield Park without saying goodbye vexed him exceedingly.
Their late night encounter in the hallway seemed to have set the perfect tone for a new beginning for them.
She must have had a legitimate reason to leave.
Perhaps she might even return later this afternoon.
Every one of his hopes was shattered when the annoying drone of Mrs. Bennet’s voice interrupted his reverie.
“Charlotte Lucas, now there is a spinster in the making. However, one might very well say the same of my eldest daughter Jane, I suppose. Although she is a great beauty, and there have been many young men who quite fancied her for a time. I felt sure at least one of them might make her an offer. Alas, nary a one did. Perhaps the tide is about to turn in that regard,” she hinted.
Caroline’s countenance surely revealed unbridled astonishment. Even Bingley, normally loquacious, knew not what to say. Darcy had his own thoughts of the blatant matchmaking. Mrs. Bennet filled the awkward silence with a soliloquy of another daughter’s prospects .
“Lizzy, who is next to Jane in both age and beauty, was blessed with a good marriage, however brief, at the young age of seventeen. Now, she finds herself engaged yet again, to an upstanding gentleman whose name is Mr. Collins. He is the girls’ cousin.
He stands to inherit Longbourn due to the most unfortunate circumstances of an entail, whatever that means.
However, thanks to our Lizzy’s engagement, praise the lord, the Bennets shall always have a place at Longbourn. ”
It was all Darcy could do to keep up his stoic resolve in the face of her shocking disclosure. The more Mrs. Bennet spoke, the more he simmered with concealed rage. Elizabeth? Engaged? Of all the seemingly insurmountable obstacles I have yet encountered—now this!
Before Mrs. Bennet could go on to speak of the many other advantages of the match, Lydia, who was eager for a change in the conversation at hand had blurted out, “I think it will be a very agreeable thing if you would have a ball here at Netherfield, Mr. Bingley.”
Bingley gushed, “A ball?”
“Oh, yes! It will be a very good way to become acquainted with your neighbours.”
Mrs. Bennet agreed wholeheartedly. “Indeed, Mr. Bingley, what a delightful scheme! As it is my Lydia’s idea, you must grant her the favour of the first set. My Lydia will be a marvellous partner.”
Bingley had other ideas. He acceded to the request for a ball and even suggested to Lydia she should specify the date.
He would not agree to the offer of the first dance; rather, he offered up an alternative.
“Please accept my apologies in that regard; perhaps my friend Darcy might consent to take the place by your side for the first set. What say you, Darcy?”
Darcy looked at Bingley as if he had taken leave of his senses.
Mrs. Bennet did not notice the awkward exchange.
She was ecstatic. By then, word of Darcy’s wealth had spread throughout the countryside.
It was evidenced by the deference and kind regards bestowed on him by Mrs. Bennet from the moment he entered the room.
“How delightful! Mr. Darcy, you shall not be disappointed!” exclaimed she.
“My Lydia is as graceful a dancer as you have ever seen, if I daresay so myself.”
Darcy had suffered all he could tolerate for one morning. Without acknowledging anyone in the room, he immediately took his leave, rendering a room full of stunned spectators by his uncharitable slight.
Mrs. Bennet proclaimed, “I declare he is rude and not nearly so handsome after all!”