Page 20 of Requirements for Love (Love in London with Mr Darcy #3)
His thoughtfulness touched her. “I have not seen you carry a walking stick.”
“I never do. Walking sticks are merely for amusement, or for show, just as others who are blessed with excellent sight use quizzing glasses. Besides, there are too many walking stick encroachers on the street for me to join their numbers.”
“I am glad for that. A man who was careless with his walking stick caused me to sprain my ankle. I would not have stumbled at all but for him.”
Darcy frowned in distaste. “It is a shock more women and children are not struck down. I dislike the ones who twirl it, whirling it about on a ribbon, or the ones who trail it indolently behind them. Or the one who fancies himself a fencer and brandishes his stick against the faces of everyone he sees.”
“Or the man who acts like a turnstile with his walking stick under his arm, inconveniencing those ahead and those behind by taking the rightful space of at least three men on the pavement.”
“Yes, they are the worst, almost as bad as a man with an umbrella.”
“I promise not to brandish it like a sword.” She looked at the two mismatched sticks and asked, “If you do not use them, why do you have them?”
He handed her an ebony cane with a handle with finely gilded edges and a painted floral motif. “My great-uncle brought that one back from Vienna while on his grand tour in the 1760s. I remember him letting me stride across it and ride it like a horse.”
She gave him a disbelieving look. It was too beautiful and delicate to be handed over to a child. She envisioned a delicate brooch or pendant with the same design and knew a single careless toss would chip the enamel or porcelain.
“He had no children of his own and was very fond of me, and I knew better than to be too rough with it. He used it when he was older. He stood five foot nine, so while it still is not the right height for you, the handle might be sturdier for your purpose, but you must choose for yourself.”
He held out the second walking stick of about the same height made of rosewood. Instead of a long porcelain handle, it had a gold knob at the top with a tassel through it. “This was my father’s. He never leant on it, however. It was more of a gentlemanly affectation that he carried under his arm.”
“It is sweet that you kept both, even though you have no personal use for them.” After their talk about honesty, she felt she could tell him she admired his sentimentality.
Darcy gave a smile that reached his eyes, although he tried to hold it back.
“I have their sleeve buttons, and a watch, and a few other items. Those are useful, but these have been sitting in a closet for years. But now they have a use—for when I am not here,” he said when she rose and supported herself on the Viennese cane. “For a very short distance only,” he repeated.
“But I want to go to my room before dinner, so I might as well try them.”
He took both walking sticks from her and set them against a side table. Rather than sit back down, she stood on one foot and balanced with a hand on Darcy’s arm.
“I cannot attest to whatever happens with those walking sticks when I am not at home. I merely brought them out to show you because you were interested in them,” he hinted heavily.
“Yes. I have a fascination with antique walking sticks.”
He smiled at her dry tone as she brought her other hand to his shoulder to steady herself. “The arrangement is that if you take it into your head to use them, it must be because I am not here to help you and you only want to move a short distance. ”
“You just do not want to cross the surgeon or my aunt.”
“I cannot deny it. But I also see how frustrated you are.” In a lower voice, he added, “And I cannot have that either.”
Darcy had brought his hands to either side of her waist. Now both her hands had found their way to his shoulders.
Elizabeth could not think long on where his hands rested because she might stop breathing.
Although she was uncertain if his attachment matched hers, she could not deny that she had powerful feelings for Fitzwilliam Darcy.
He gestured he would carry her, and she nodded.
He took her into his arms and he strode from the room.
Elizabeth allowed herself to relax into him, resting her head against his shoulder as he did.
Darcy exhaled, shakily and softly. She dared not call it a sigh, but she could feel as well as hear the pounding of his heart.
Darcy carefully set her down, but rather than stand upright immediately, he stayed leaning over her.
He rested one arm on the back of the sofa and the other behind her head on the armrest, gazing into her face with more than his usual intensity.
She was effectively trapped between his arms, and her heart skipped a beat to have him that near but without touching her.
Elizabeth looked into his eyes and was certain she saw warmth and affection there.
She watched his attention shift, for a moment, down to her mouth.
He was near enough for her to feel his short, shallow intakes of breath against her own lips.
Darcy tilted his head slightly, lips parted, before catching himself and hauling himself upright.
Had Darcy wanted to kiss her? She would have kissed him back if he had. “Thank you for the walking stick,” she said breathlessly.
“You are welcome,” he whispered.
They stared at one another, the air thick between them with unsaid words and actions.
Her heart now beat unnaturally fast. She wanted Darcy to kiss her and make all the declarations that would have gone with it.
Had she imagined his look and his movements, or did he feel something genuine for her? Had he fallen in love this week, too?
He watched her intently, but when it became clear he was unlikely to speak or move, she had to say something. “I promise not to use the walking sticks if you are home—and still willing to carry me about.” Although she appreciated his thoughtfulness, she now preferred his arms around her.
“Always,” he said quickly, before giving her a smile and leaving the room.