Page 23 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)

Chapter 21

“M r Darcy, may I present Mr Jeremiah Brown and his wife, Susan.” Elizabeth stood just ahead of him near the open doorway, a calculating little smile on her face.

Darcy drew a deep breath. If this was a test, he was determined to pass. “It is an honour to make your acquaintance, sir. Miss Bennet speaks very highly of you.”

Mr Brown’s expression lit in shy felicity. He looked hesitantly to Elizabeth. Clearly, he was comfortable with her presence. Still, the eminent Mr Darcy’s reputation went before him, and the modest farmer could never have expected the prestigious gentleman to appear on his own doorstep. He was not quite certain what civilities might be expected. Hobbling on a little crutch, he backed into his humble abode, gesturing invitingly to the gentleman. “Do, please suhr, come i’ ou’ o’ the weather.”

“Thank you.” Darcy removed his hat and ducked his tall frame inside the door. “This seems a very comfortable house,” he complimented his hostess, casting his eyes about the family’s cosy arrangements. A gaggle of small children in the corner caught his interest. “Hullo! What have we here?” he smiled kindly down at the farmer’s little brood. He directed his attention to the oldest of the lot, a boy of about ten. “My name is Darcy. What is yours?”

The lad’s eyes darted hesitantly to his father, but he plucked up his courage. He stood to greet the gentleman properly as he had been taught. “Willy, suhr.”

Darcy’s eyes rose briefly to Elizabeth’s as she had come to stand near the children. “A very fine name, my boy,” he smiled.

“‘T’was after me grandpapa, suhr,” the boy answered proudly. “Tha’s me sister Millie and me brother Jack.”

Darcy greeted the younger two, both looking to be about four or five. Millie immediately grasped his finger and giggled. Mrs Brown started in embarrassment, meaning to pull her daughter from the gentleman, but he assured her politely that he had no objections to the children. The youngest two gathered about his legs in friendly awe.

“Come, William,” Elizabeth suggested gently, extending her hands to the younger children. “Will you show me how your little peahens are coming along?” She glanced up at Darcy by way of explanation. “One of the neighbours had an unseasonably late brood, and they thought young William here would make a fine gamekeeper,” she winked. Whether it was that bold gesture or her easy employment of the child’s name, Darcy’s heart flipped again.

Her gaze returned to the children as she ushered them toward the door. “They must have grown so much since last week! Have they been keeping warm enough?” Elizabeth chatted amicably with the children as she led them out to a little soddy near the house, leaving Darcy gaping behind her. He stared at her back until after the door had closed, then shook himself. He turned again to the farmer and his wife.

“Taik a seat, please suhr,” Mr Brown offered. The man’s wife came to him, and the small party all sat, occupying most of the furniture in the little house. “Mr Darcy, I know wha’ this is abou’.” The man’s head hung, his bearing resigned to his fate. “Me rent. I canna’ maik i’, I know. How soon must w’all be out?”

Darcy shook his head. “You mistake me, sir. Miss Bennet has asked my advice in resolving the affair while her father is indisposed, but it is not for me to decide anything. I believe the family’s intentions are to find a workable solution that will keep your family in good security while recompensing the estate. It is Miss Bennet’s wish to settle the matter in Mr Bennet’s lifetime, rather than leaving things to the heir of Longbourn to decide.”

“Aye. I taik yer meanin’, suhr.” Mr Brown nodded, a faint hope flickering again on his face.

“To that end,” Darcy went on, “it was my hope to learn something of your experience. How long have you been a tenant here at Longbourn?”

“A’ me life, suhr. Me father was old Samuel Bennet’s arb’rist, and he tau’ me a’ ‘e knew.”

“Arborist? How is it you became a farmer instead?”

Mr Brown shifted hesitantly. “Th’estate, y’see suhr… Mrs Bennet dinn’ see any point to the fancy orch’rds whe’ Mr Bennet brou’ ‘er ‘ere. Waste o’ money, she ca’ed it, keepin’ an arb’rist on. Says the trees’l make fruit on their own. Now i’s jest the season’l ‘help as is required.” He shrugged, masking his disappointment with what surely had been a tremendous blow to his livelihood. Darcy’s lips thinned. He wondered what the current Mrs Bennet had found to be a better use of the estate’s funds. “Farmin’ suited me a’most ‘s well,” Mr Brown added with forced cheer.

“And so…” Darcy shifted his tall frame uncomfortably in the little seat, “I suppose you are indeed familiar with the curious little orchard in the hollow, near the edge of the Longbourn property. Your father must have had some hand in its management, though it has gone quite wild now. I have some interest in that persimmons tree. Tell me, if you can, is it possible to take a start of such a tree? I should like to know how it would fare in my conservatory.”

“Oh, I wouldna’ do tha’, suhr,” the man shook his head with authority. “Tha’ tree, i’ likes the cold i’ does. It’d never thrive in a conservatory… beggin’ your pardon, suhr.”

“Indeed?” Darcy raised an eyebrow in interest. “Cold we have aplenty in Derbyshire. Is it possible to graft the tree?”

“Aye, suhr, tha’d be the best way. Tricky, those persimmons trees are, ‘till a man gets ‘em started.” He went on to elaborate some of the difficulties his father had had in propagating young starts from the tree and what they had learned. Darcy listened raptly as the man humbly expounded upon his knowledge.

At about this time, a crisp snowy breeze blew Elizabeth and the children back through the door, little flecks of white shimmering on their outer clothing. Elizabeth’s smile was fresh and radiant, full of life, and it reflected in the rosy cheeks of the children. Darcy felt his breath leave him once again. Oh, to have this joy for his own! He stood, helplessly drawn near to her. Her vibrant face turned up to his, and he watched in mesmerized fascination as the last snowflake melted off the tip of her nose.

Mr Brown cleared his throat. “I thaink you for ca’ing on us, Mr Darcy and Miss ‘Liz’beth. As it is though, I s’pect it’d be best if you get to back to th’ ‘ouse soon, bein’ on foot and a’. I’d hait to see Miss ‘Liz’beth taik cold.”

“Nonsense, Mr Brown, you always fear such for me, and it has never yet occurred!” Elizabeth teased. “It is a very light snow and not threatening more at the moment.” She turned her sparkling eyes back to Darcy, arching her brow expectantly.

“Yes, well,” Darcy straightened his coat, recalling the purpose of his visit. “Miss Bennet, would you despise me very much if I made your favourite tenant an offer of employment?”

The man and his wife turned shocked gazes to one another as Elizabeth’s eyes rounded. “Excuse me, Mr Darcy?”

“Your Mr Brown is quite an expert in an area which intrigues me very much. I have an arborist for my orchards, of course, as well as three assistants for seasonal work, but the grounds at Pemberley are exceedingly large, and their hands are full. Mr Brown has knowledge which none of them possesses, and I imagine when old Stevens seeks to retire in a few years, I shall be looking for a suitable replacement. I believe I have found him; by your leave, of course, Miss Bennet.”

He turned to the man and his wife, still gaping in wonder. “And yours, naturally, Mr and Mrs Brown. It is only fair to warn you that the climate in Derbyshire is somewhat harsher than what you are accustomed to, and I will completely understand if you do not desire the change.”

Mr and Mrs Brown shared the barest of wordless exchanges before their eyes turned back to the oddity before them. Never did it happen that a benevolent stranger strode into the middle of one’s need and simply set all the past on its ear. “I…” Brown choked out a whisper. “I don’ ge’ ‘round s’easy, suhr,” he gestured to his bum leg.

“That is no bother.” Darcy waved. “We have any number of two-wheeled carts for use about the estate. I will see to it you always have one at your disposal and a horse exclusively for your own use. As for your leg, of course, we will want to make sure it continues to heal as much as can be. We do have an apothecary resident in Lambton, as well as a doctor in the next town. It is not necessary for you to decide immediately….”

Brown and his wife glanced at each other once again. “Wi’ respect, suhr, I think we’ve decided. I’d be right pleased. But—” he turned his gaze to Elizabeth—“what of my debt to the Bennets? I can’n leave.”

Elizabeth offered her old friend a shimmering smile. “Fear not, Mr Brown. If I know Mr Darcy, he already has a solution in mind for that as well.” She turned a light expression on the gentleman, who appeared for a moment to have lost whatever ideas he might once have possessed.

“Ah…” he stuttered. Recollecting himself, he started again. “Well, it is quite simple, really. I know the sum required, and I can assure you that your new wages will allow you to repay the debt rather quickly. So that the Bennet family may not suffer by my gain, I shall purchase the debt, and you may settle it with me on very easy terms. Will that be agreeable, Mr Brown?”

Mr Brown straightened to his fullest height for the first time that day, straining on his wounded leg. “Yes, suhr. I’d be right honoured, suhr!”

Darcy smiled. “I will make the necessary arrangements. Can your family be ready to remove by the end of the week?” The man answered tremblingly in the affirmative. Darcy nodded in acknowledgement. He then knelt before the children, his fine buckskin breeches directly on the sod floor. “Well, Master William, it seems you and I will be seeing more of each other. Will you bring your peahens with you to Derbyshire? We can always use some healthy fowl about, as well as clever hands to tend them.”

Willy swallowed, stiffened, and nodded smartly, the mirror image of his father. “Yes, suhr!”

“Good,” Darcy rose. “You will be a most welcomed addition to Pemberley, my good fellow.” He smiled gently at the younger children, sparking return smiles from each of them. With a light heart, he took his leave of the little family and ushered the lady out of the door.

In some hesitation, he offered Elizabeth his elbow once more. Was she pleased? Had he overstepped? Her face was turned from him momentarily; he could not read her feelings. He caught his breath, waiting.

Wondrously, she took a firm, possessive hold of his forearm and drew herself near. Her bonnet tipped out of the way as she raised her face, and Darcy was treated to the most glorious smile he had ever seen. A broad grin split his face, and he gestured gallantly to the road with his free hand. “Shall we, Miss Bennet?”

“By all means, Mr Darcy.” She fell into step beside him as they set out for her home. A light snow salted her clothing, the heavy grey sky muffling all sound save their own breath and the light crunch of frosty ground beneath their feet. Darcy felt he had stepped out of time and space into this private little interval, a respite from the world.

“Miss Bennet,” he began softly, waiting for her to look at him again with those glorious eyes. She did so easily, and he gazed quietly into them before continuing. “I hope you are not displeased by the arrangements we discussed. It was not my wish to subvert your—you father’s—authority where your tenants are concerned.”

She tilted her head, a fine line appearing where a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. “And how have you done so, sir? Have you paid other visits I am not aware of? Shall we be growing beans instead of potatoes in the lower field next year?”

He could not help a low laugh. “I believe you know what I mean. The solution seemed very tidy, and I believe all concerned will be the better off for it, but I gave you very little chance to object.”

“I do not see how it would have been my place to do so,” she replied easily. “Have you not the right to offer employment to whomever you wish? If his debt to my father’s estate is to be reconciled, he has no further obligation to my family and may take any situation he chooses. I expect you already have some answer for the problem of our now vacant farm?”

Her suspicions were confirmed with a glance up at his face. A cautious smile wavered, his eyes twinkling significantly. “I believe Mr Bingley might. You are not displeased?”

“Terribly so!”

Darcy froze abruptly in his tracks. “I beg your pardon, Miss Elizabeth. I have not the pleasure of understanding you. What is it, specifically, that displeases you? I beg you would tell me so it can be rectified.”

“Why,” she shrugged dramatically, “I shall be losing my favourite playmates! The Brown children are great companions of mine, you must know, Mr Darcy.”

He started breathing again. “I know,” he answered at length, beginning to walk once more. At her questioning glance, he admitted, “I happened upon you once as you were playing with them. You ought to pay more attention to your surroundings, Miss Elizabeth, as I watched you—not very discreetly either, I daresay—for a very long time without ever attracting your notice.”

“Mr Darcy! You are a sneak!”

“Sneaking, while riding a seventeen-and-a-half hand horse? Impossible!”

“A gentleman would have made his presence known!” she arched a playful look at him.

“And interrupt such a lovely scene? You quite mistake me, Miss Bennet, if you think me capable of that. I am a selfish creature, I am afraid, and I derived much enjoyment from watching you and the children at your sport.”

“Well,” she tossed her head, blithely, “I shall have to think of some suitable punishment for you.”

“Oh, back to that, are we? What, then, of my reward for rendering my assistance? Do I merit any sort of favour?”

A sly curve came to her lips. “Perhaps the one cancels out the other!”

“No better than that? Do I not earn some benefit by my honesty? I might well never have told you, you know, and never have been forced to pay that particular debt.”

She laughed. “Quite true, Mr Darcy! Tell me what reward my ‘pupil’ would request, then, and I shall consider it.”

Darcy stopped her, looking seriously down into her face. “A very near one to my heart, Miss Bennet,” he whispered. He took her hand off his elbow and clasped it tenderly.

Elizabeth’s breath caught. He had been so light-hearted and easy; she had not expected such a serious shift. Was he going to press her for her acceptance again so soon? Both knew it to be an inevitability by this point, but just for a time, she had enjoyed the fantasy that she still had some choice in the matter and that he was a devoted suitor actively trying to curry her favour.

Darcy reached hesitantly for her other hand and blinking, unable to meet his eyes, she allowed him to take it. “Miss Bennet,” he murmured, “I find myself a very jealous man.”

Surprised, she glanced up. “J-jealous?” she stammered. “I do not understand, sir. Have you some cause to doubt me?”

“You, no. I am quite envious, however, of another young man bearing the moniker of William, with whose name you seem quite familiar.”

“Wh-what?” she broke into a confused grin, starting to chuckle.

“And my own sister, who makes free with your Christian name! Not a good example to set, is it, Miss Bennet, that a girl of less than a day’s acquaintance should have enjoyed such a privilege while I, who have known you two months almost, am constrained to formalities?”

Elizabeth eyed him appraisingly, amusement sparkling. He gazed down tenderly, admiring the tiny drifting snowflakes beginning to gather on her lashes.

“What say you… Elizabeth ?” he whispered. He tipped his head lower, closer to her face. “Will you allow me to call you by your given name, or is there some other which you would prefer?”

She forced herself to remain still, not flinching away at his closeness. It was not uncomfortable to be so near him, but it made her heart flutter queerly, uncontrollably. Her voice caught breathlessly. “My most particular friends call me ‘Lizzy’. Is that the name to which you refer?”

His hands, cradling hers, raised them to his chest, in near reach of his lips. Gloves or no, her eyes became riveted on them, wondering at his intentions. “If that is what those dearest to you call you, then yes. I do ask for that freedom. What think you of my boldness? Am I incorrigible… Lizzy?”

“Very nearly,” her words rasped in her throat. “What am I to do with you?”

His mouth softened. “Say you will return the favour. It would give me the very greatest pleasure… Lizzy.”

Spirit returned to her eyes, and she lifted her chin. “Or perhaps, Mr Darcy, if I am clever, I should withhold that particular prize until you have done something rather singular to earn it!”

“Refusing to make it easy on me, are you not?” he grinned in some delight.

Elizabeth fluttered her lashes coquettishly. “A lady must have some tricks up her sleeve, would you not agree? Else how shall I endeavour to exert any influence at all?”

“I think you will find, Elizabeth, that a smile from you is all that is required to sway me.” He dipped his head still lower, his voice dropping huskily. His hands tightened around hers, and he held her eyes intently.

She gazed back, wordlessly studying the depth of feeling mirrored in his expression, trembling in his voice. Slowly she nodded. “Very well, William,” she whispered evenly.

His held breath rushed to the fore, his entire body shuddering in release. His eyes blinked rapidly, and without even consciously willing it, his right hand left hers. Thoughtlessly he reached the glove-tipped fingers up to brush a stray snowflake from her cheek but stopped himself just short of touching her. He hesitated, fearing he had gone too far, but her gaze never wavered. Her breathing had quickened, and those marvellous eyes dilated, but she remained still.

Boldly, daringly, he closed the distance to her soft skin. The kid leather of his glove moulded to her cheek, dissolving the flakes as they touched down. He held his hand there, she permitting his caress with uncertainty speaking from her eyes.

“Elizabeth,” he whispered, so lowly the word was almost inaudible. “Lizzy….” Her eyes fell closed in unconscious invitation.

His heart in his throat, he tipped his face lower. He could feel the puff of her breath, warming his cheek, the heat of her skin radiating in the chilled space between them. It was a siren call, an irresistible beckoning, and he had not the strength to deny it. Delicately, fearfully, his curled fingers offered the barest nudge to her cheek, coaxing her to welcome him. He drew in one final breath. Then those delicious lips found his.

He lingered there, barely touching his mouth to hers, for long intoxicating seconds. Slowly and carefully, he parted his lips to cup them around her lower one, drawing it between them. Elizabeth was nearly panting, so rapid and shallow was her breathing, but she held herself rigidly still. He released her lip, then took it again. He gave the gentlest of tugs, and her jaw relaxed.

At his third brush, she met him with softened lips. His heart soared. Pressing a little more insistently, he encouraged her to release her mouth to him. With modest reserve, she did. Her breath became his as their lips tangled sweetly, softly. He lost count of their kisses as they merged together into one seamless, rapturous caress. His other hand had joined the first, and together they cradled her lovely face while Elizabeth’s hands, stranded somewhere near his chest, fisted and rested lightly on the lapels of his overcoat.

Euphoric, he tilted his head slightly to the side, approaching her more intimately. Her graceful neck flexed, curving to tip her delicate jaw to accommodate his attentions. His smallest fingers trailed down the grooves of her throat, etching her shape and feel into his hands. What cruel fancy struck me this morning to make me remember my gloves? He forgot them often enough when at home. Why could he not have done so today?

His entire being quivered, a deep groan of ecstasy suppressed. Who was he kidding? The gloves could not matter. Even swathed and bundled beneath layers of outerwear, he had never felt so laid bare, so deeply entwined with anyone. Elizabeth, his extraordinary Elizabeth, so sweetly surrendering! Could it be possible?

Elizabeth was experiencing some crisis of feeling. She had been determined to challenge him a little more, to exact a little more studious conversation from him so that she might better examine his character. Oh, why must I be so wilful? What more proof did she truly need that he was honourable and devoted?

Surely, she had given him every opportunity and excuse to turn tail and run, yet he had remained to shield her. He could easily have sworn her off—or worse yet, he could have turned brutish, forcing her to follow through with an engagement whether she hated him or not. Instead, he had humbled himself, made himself utterly vulnerable, and in the process begun to reveal his true nature to her wondering eyes. The more closely she looked, the more inevitable it seemed that her heart would abandon her.

Allowing herself to trust him was a tremendous gamble, a daunting plunge. Her body tensed, still unwilling to wholly submit. Patiently, gently, he persuaded her to lower her guard. At last, something inside of her let go. She wanted him, and finally, she came to admit it to herself. She drew back fractionally, her lips still hovering near his—just enough to catch his notice and cause him to open his eyes. Deliberately, so that he would know beyond a doubt that it had been her own volition, she moved into him again.

Darcy did vocalize his pleasure then. An unconscious throaty moan rumbled low in his chest, and an answering quiver trembled in Elizabeth’s core. He traced the crisp edges of her full lips with his own, drinking in her willing reception. Gently he pressed a withdrawing kiss to her upper lip, and still cupping her face, gazed down into her eyes. “Elizabeth,” he whispered reverently, stroking her cheekbones with his thumbs. “My Lizzy… you asked me before what I had been thinking. Do you remember?”

She nodded ever so slightly, not wishing to disturb the tenuous contact of his fingers. He tilted his head a little, smiling gently. “It was this. It was you, and my dreams of being with you like this. It was the hope that you would be so warm, so tender. I am afraid, my Lizzy, that you have quite made me your slave.”

Her mouth quirked—that delicious mouth! Now he knew it to be such for himself! “That is well, sir, for it seems I shall require some means of keeping you biddable for the foreseeable future.”

His expression turned to one of awe. “Elizabeth!” he whispered. “Does that mean...?”

Her face dropped a little, bashful for the first time. She peeked up at him through the shade of her frosted lashes. “I do not make a habit of allowing just any gentleman such liberties, as you may well remember, sir.”

“ William .” His body pulsing, he touched her chin to lift her gaze.

“William,” she murmured, his name spoken with gentle affection.

He stood breathless, staring, wishing to burn this moment into his lifelong memories. His thumb brushed over her chin, and unable to resist, he lowered his face again to hers. This time he did not confine his attentions to her glorious mouth but explored her cheeks, her forehead, even brushing light kisses over her snowy lashes. Elizabeth leaned into him, willing and pliant, and he was helpless to deny the deep tremor of pure elation washing through him.

Conscience tickled his thoughts at last, and he drew back. “We are quite exposed here, Elizabeth,” he murmured. “Anyone could happen along, and I fear that will do our reputations no good whatsoever!”

She smiled, a pert twist returning to her lips. “Do you forget we have already been seen unchaperoned together by Sir William Lucas? He will have us marching down the aisle by special license within the fortnight, if I know him at all. There really can be no more compromising witnesses abroad today!”

Darcy laughed, still stroking her cheeks. “If that be the case, I shall not fear! I must confess though; I will have to admit to a sudden admiration for Sir William’s way of thinking.” He drew her close once more, savouring her luscious sweetness.

Elizabeth flattened her hands upon his chest, no longer pressing them cautiously against him but tenderly to him. She spread her fingers over his thick coat, sensing his chest rising and falling with his breath, the steady thrum of his heart. There was something delectable and exhilarating about such intimacy with him, something she had never thought to expect. It almost frightened her to consider how rapidly she had become at home in his embrace. Enthralled and thoroughly hypnotized, she leaned her body closer to his as he tenderly caressed her mouth once more.

Approaching hoofbeats from around a grove of trees caused her to blink and pull back. Darcy, too, attempted to compose himself, but in both cases, their flushed complexions gave them away. The rider was upon them quickly, moving in a brisk trot, and before they could step apart, the man had pulled up. He halted his mount, and with an air of some disbelief, lowered his woollen scarf from his face.

“Well, Lizzy! I trust you have some explanation for what I think I am seeing!”

Darcy turned his shoulder slightly, an implicit warning, interposing himself between Elizabeth and the stranger.

Elizabeth herself had gone quite pale. She bit her lip and glued her eyes on the rider’s saddle. “Good afternoon, Uncle.”