Page 32 of Rumours & Recklessness (Sweet Escapes Collection #1)
Chapter 30
E lizabeth had gently demanded that Mrs Cooper take a rest. She had spent the last few days eating and sleeping in this little room for the most part. With her husband’s assurances and her own belief that her patient was improving, she was finally persuaded to take a real bed for the night. Elizabeth took her post with a candle and a book for her company—but not her only company. She allowed herself a sly smile. The truth was that she had begun to cherish each moment she shared with Darcy, and even Jane’s unobtrusive presence put a damper on her delicious reminiscing.
She worried ever so slightly about Lady Catherine’s threats. She knew that Darcy was dependent upon none of his relations and that there was no real power his aunt held over him, but she did not like that his family would be displeased by their marriage. She pitied poor Anne de Bourgh if she were truly disappointed but took some comfort in the fact that his uncle and certainly his other cousin appeared to look upon their union favourably. She shook her head. Surely Lady Catherine was justifiably vexed in the dashing of her every expectation. It could not excuse the lady’s atrocious conduct to herself, but even that Elizabeth could find in her heart to forgive. She had Darcy’s assurances, and that was all she really cared for.
She luxuriated in a little sigh of pleasure as she sank into her chair and admired her ring once more. In character and talents, there could not be a man better suited to her. His understanding was excellent, and though he was little inclined to light-hearted small talk, he spoke freely and eloquently enough when they were alone. She smiled privately, wondering how long it would be before she was able to spend a great deal of time alone with him.
The door opened, and she looked up, expecting Jane, or perhaps her aunt. It was Darcy, sopping wet and frigid. “William!” she gasped and sprang to her feet immediately.
She moved into his arms without hesitation, impulsively wishing to share her warmth with him. His face softened, the weary lines giving way to a meek smile as he stepped back from her. “I am all wet, Elizabeth.”
She frowned impatiently. “And freezing! Take that coat off! Let me.” He allowed her to spin him bodily about, chuckling a little in obvious delight as she ordered him around and stripped his wet garments off his shoulders. She wrapped him in a spare blanket almost instantly, scrubbing her hands roughly over his arms to warm him as though he were one of her younger sisters. Slowly she stopped, surprised at her bold assertiveness. She raised bashful eyes to his face.
“Are you finished?” he asked, a hint of laughter in his tones. That dimple of his flashed most distractingly.
“Uhm. I’m sorry,” she mumbled uncomfortably, dropping her hands.
“Do not be sorry! I have not had such a welcome from the cold since I was a child!” He bent to touch a chilly kiss to her forehead, admiring her softened appearance. She wore a simple gown, unembellished by anything but her rich tresses. Only a portion of her hair had been swept up from her face as the rest spilled gloriously over her shoulders. She had never looked more beautiful. “I already missed you, Elizabeth,” he murmured gently.
She flung herself into his embrace then, contentedly burrowing under his blanketed arms. “I did not look for your return for days yet! What are you doing riding in the rain, and travelling so late at night? You will catch your death!” She meant for her words to sound like a fierce admonishment, but her face pressed warmly to his chest gave lie to her scolding lecture.
He laughed, pillowing his cold cheeks in her soft, lavender-scented hair. “I came to save you from my aunt. I heard she was intending a visit.”
“Ah, yes. We had the pleasure this afternoon.”
He groaned. “I am sorry. Was she very horrible?”
“Oh, no, quite the contrary! I found it to be a very enjoyable visit.”
“To be sure,” he returned dryly.
“Oh, but I mean it! I found her company very... amusing. I cannot say the same for Lady Catherine. I do not think she enjoyed herself, nor went away satisfied.”
Darcy laughed easily, relieved beyond expression that Elizabeth had not been intimidated by his aunt. She had not needed him to save her, after all! “I can well imagine! What did she say to you?”
“First things first.” She pushed him into her old chair, then, avoiding his astonished gaze, bent to tug his wet boots off as she had done so many times for her father. What large feet the man had! Sensing the outrageous lack of decorum she displayed, her cheeks fanned a brilliant crimson, but she was determined to prevent his taking a serious chill. Fixing her eyes to his masculine calves—such long legs he had!—she silently set about her self-appointed duty. It was her nature to care for those she loved, and quite of a sudden, Darcy topped that list.
Darcy watched her in mute amazement and wonder. All of his wildest fantasies were playing out before his eyes! Elizabeth fussed over him with tender concern, her small gentle hands bestowing comfort such as he had never known. Her loving ministrations, combined with the genuine respect she had recently extended, swirled intoxicatingly in his heart. He felt twice the man he had been!
Edified by the care and devotion of such a noble woman, he at long last felt worthy of all the accolades showered upon him since his birth. He would forever after hold his head high among men, not because of any merit of his own, but because she declared her estimation of his virtues in her every look and gesture. The dam holding back the tide of his feelings burst, and he was over swept by such a drowning flood of love for her that he could scarcely draw breath.
Elizabeth was wholly unaware of the battle waged and won in her lover’s heart. She tugged valiantly against the wet, skin-tight leather, demonstrating not only her fierce resolve toward his benefit, but also some passing familiarity with masculine footwear. His chest quaked in a trembling chuckle as he tried to imagine one of Miss Bingley’s ilk stooping to such a task. At last, she rose, placing his boots by the small hearth and fetching another blanket for his knees. She began to move away from him to locate another chair for herself when his long arms pulled her close again.
“If you wish to enhance my comfort, Elizabeth, do me the pleasure of staying here with me,” he pleaded in a low voice. She narrowed her eyes sceptically at him. He levelled her a rakish little smile. “You need not fear I would take advantage of you in your father’s sickroom. I only wish to partake of your warmth a little longer.”
She cautiously allowed him to draw her to his lap, draping her knees over the armrest of the chair and her arm over his shoulders. She moved willingly but stiffly, to accommodate his needful plea. He tucked the blanket over his shoulders snugly about them both and pressed his forehead again into her luscious hair.
“William, you know my aunt must be aware of your presence,” she whispered nervously, her back still ramrod straight. Most of the family were abed, but someone must have let him in. The door was wide open, and though the hall was conspicuously vacant, it might not remain so. “She, or even my uncle, could come in at any moment.”
“And then I will be forced to do my duty as a gentleman and marry you on the morrow?” he conjectured, his face still hidden from her. “I can think of many worse fates.” He lifted his face to look at her, brushing those unruly curls aside as he had imagined doing so many times before. “At present, however, there is no cause for concern. I promised your uncle I would behave as befits a gentleman. Being a very sympathetic man, and in light of my pitiful, road-weary appearance, he granted me leave to see you alone for a short while.”
“I imagine this is not quite the ‘gentlemanly behaviour’ he had in mind,” she retorted sharply, arching her neck away from him to look him in the eye.
“A man’s life and well-being must take precedence over proper decorum at certain times, do you not agree? I was just informed by a source very dear to me that I am perilously close to freezing to death. Would you withhold life-saving measures in such an instance?”
“I am not so mean as that!”
“I had not thought you so.” He tightened his arms around her, and she slowly melted into his cradling embrace. He rested his head gratefully against hers, closing his eyes and breathing deeply of her scent. Here, at last, he was to learn what it was to love and be loved. Here in her arms, everything else he was slipped away. Pemberley, his status and responsibilities, and all of those lonely years without anyone to share his burden—all were forgotten. He was simply a man in love with the most breath-taking woman he had ever known. His precious Elizabeth melded to him, her soft form pressing into his until all that could be discerned from without was one shape drawing breath under their blanket.
Not for the first time in the past days, his thoughts lingered on that old passage referring to man and wife becoming one flesh. Nothing could sound more heavenly! He allowed himself a lopsided grin as he considered, only for a moment, that he would someday soon be granted an even deeper level of intimacy with this remarkable woman, his love and his very heart. He murmured soft words of endearment as she turned her face to nuzzle his cheek. Exhausted and sore as he was, her warm presence was having a profound effect on his person. He shifted a little, hoping to spare her maidenly sensibilities any embarrassing discomfort. He would not have her move from him just now for all the world!
It had been his intention, when it first became obvious that they must enter a rapid marriage without the benefit of a courtship, that he would not press her for intimacy until she had had time to accustom herself to the idea—no matter how long that took. What a man desired of his wife was primal, urgent, and overpowering. No gently bred maiden should be subject to such raw yearnings unless her heart was fully engaged. Her love was like the finest of masterpieces. Rushing matters would shatter the treasure, like leeching all the spice and power out of the new wine or scorching the silver before it was refined. She was worth waiting for, even down to the last delicious, stubborn, glorious curl of her beautiful head.
Somehow, he had promised himself, he must learn restraint, and that most dastardly of all virtues— patience . It would be painful but absolutely vital! He knew well that once he had tasted of her sweetness, he would be as helplessly bound by his desire for her as a broken warrior who cried out for an opiate, always longing for more and never satisfied.
He could not allow himself to… oh . He groaned headily as she moved from nuzzling his cheek to kissing that tender place next to his ear. Oh, what was the use? He was already a man hopelessly lost at sea, and only she could cast him a rope. Mercifully for him, she seemed to have every intention of doing so. In fact, she appeared more than willing to offer the succour he craved.
At last, he broke his peace, aware that Mr Gardiner, though a magnanimous man, still took his guardianship rather seriously. He could not afford to linger much longer, though tearing himself from her would be like ripping the bandage from raw flesh. He slid his hand up her shoulder, regretfully signalling her to cease her delectable attentions.
“I am loath to ask, Elizabeth, but I fear I must. What did my aunt say to you?” Once he had spoken, he returned his face to its proper home—buried in her luxurious curls—while he waited for her response.
“Oh, dear,” she sighed reluctantly. Haltingly, not wishing to sound slanderous against his nevertheless deserving relation, she described her encounter with the lady. She could feel the tightening of his jaw as his prickling cheeks tangled in her hair.
A strangled hiss escaped him as she related Lady Catherine’s irate pronouncements. He had no doubt she was making light of his aunt’s colourful insults—he was, after all, rather well acquainted with the lady himself. At last, her narrative drew to an awkward close. “Is that all she said?” he probed.
“No…” her brow creased in some concern. “Just as she was leaving the study, she asked me whether I was fond of Georgiana. I answered that I was, of course. She seemed satisfied in that and left.”
He pricked up his expression and stared at her carefully. “Fond of Georgiana… oh blast and damn.” The oath escaped softly, but then a sudden pallor overcame him when he recognized his outrageously unbecoming language. “Forgive me, Elizabeth!”
She shook her head, absolving him immediately. Her eyes were full only of concern. “William, what is it?”
He drew a shuddering sigh, touching his forehead lightly to hers. Would she always be so gentle with him? What had he done to deserve her patient tenderness? He was silent a moment, and she waited without pressing him further. Another long breath heralded a swelling in his chest as his love for this exhilarating woman crashed over his senses.
She was still waiting, her uneasiness growing in her eyes. He pulled back to meet them. Her right brow dipped slightly—a mannerism he had never seen employed by anyone, but from his expressive Elizabeth, he understood its meaning instantly. She was begging him to relieve her worry and would not allow him to escape without some explanation.
“My aunt has some special resentment regarding Georgiana,” he admitted at last. “I do not understand why, exactly. She has oft declared that she herself would have been a better guardian rather than a pair of very young bachelors.”
He shrugged self-deprecatingly. “I know well my own failings, but I thank heaven my father’s will in that regard was iron-clad. My aunt Helen—Richard’s mother—was designated to take on Georgiana’s sponsorship in the ton rather than Aunt Catherine. That codicil set her into a righteous fury.” He heaved a bitter sigh, pressing his lips rigidly in frustration.
Elizabeth shook her head slightly in bafflement. “I do not understand, then. If your father’s will is so sufficient, what can she do? You feel she is threatening Georgiana somehow?”
“Oh, she can still do plenty. We have received an education only this week in how rapidly talk of any lady’s disgrace can ruin her future. Aunt Catherine still has her contacts—spiteful old cats, all of them, who will look on our engagement less than favourably.” He drew back fractionally with a pained expression, speaking softly. “Aunt Catherine is far from the only matron who has coveted the Darcy name for her daughter.”
Elizabeth paled, her stomach dropping. So, Darcy, and by extension Georgiana, would truly suffer for his connection to her. She had once furiously dismissed the conceited words, but now the full weight of his position settled uncomfortably over her small shoulders. She was not equal to it. She bowed her head, her heart swimming and eyes stinging.
“Elizabeth? I did not mean to give you pain! Lizzy, my Lizzy, please do not cry!” His words of panicked concern broke over her, and she looked up to him once more, blinking rapidly. In a rush of breath, he crushed her to him, kissing her temple as it was nearest his mouth. “I see it in your eyes, Elizabeth. Do not you dare consider abandoning me now! Do not fancy you would be doing it for my own good, for nothing could destroy me more than to lose you!”
“But if Georgiana is to be harmed…” she began to protest, tears choking her voice.
“Shhh,” he interrupted her with a gentle press of his lips to hers. “Georgiana needs you almost as much as I do. Almost,” he repeated with emphasis, lovingly caressing her cheeks. “I would have you put it out of your mind. I beg you, my Lizzy, think no more on it. I will manage my aunt.”
“I cannot simply cease to worry, William! You are in distress, and your concerns are mine, are they not? It is because of me that Georgiana may be at risk. You cannot be master of every problem on your own, William.”
A glorious smile suddenly overspread his face, and Elizabeth could not be certain, but she thought she might have identified a second dimple on his other cheek before his next words distracted her. “And this, dearest Elizabeth, is why there can be no other for me!” With rapturous joy, he claimed her mouth. She yielded easily, tipping back against his shoulder as her arms tightened around his neck. He followed her, leaning tenderly over her as he braced her gently against the arm of the chair.
Her awkward posture, quite unfortunately, required a little more support than merely the uncomfortable arm of the chair. Smiling as he kissed her, he slid his hand up her back, delighting in the feminine arches and curves he detected beneath her gown. It was perhaps best that his actual support was required, or his fingers would have taken on a life of their own, placed daringly low on her frame as they were.
Elizabeth’s hand dropped from the back of his neck to the front, one finger hooking in the top of his cravat and the others tickling over his throat. His pulse clattered wildly. Oh, no, he would not have to wait long for her! She arched her neck and allowed him to explore her mouth more deeply. Their lips and tongues met and swirled in a provocative dance, coming together and separating in a timeless synchrony known only to lovers.
A whisper of conscience prickled through him; that quiet voice of his inner being reminding him of his position and hers, and the respect he owed to her and to her family. Even as the thought caused him to pull back slightly, he caught the glimmer of moonlight shivering upon her moistened lips—those delicious, honey-dewed lips which were even now whispering his name, softly demanding more of him. He could not deny her!
A low, conflicted cry wrung from his own lips as his mind battled for all that was right. She was a lady, an innocent! It was wrong to tempt her so. It was wrong to awaken her ardour when he could not satisfy it. It was wrong to remain in her arms, pressing her tantalizingly female curves to his masculine form, when he had promised her uncle to behave as a gentleman! It was wrong—so very, very wrong—to compromise her honour while pretending her wounded father did not lay a scant yard away, unable to object! Oh, but yet, it was so right to hold her like this.
A wordless endearment—a sigh, really—and he dropped his face helplessly to her neck. She tipped her chin obligingly, gasping as his lips brushed her milky throat for the first time. She trusted him, and the agony of that burden seared through his conscience. He must release her! She was a maiden, spotless and pure, and... and her fingers were running through his hair. Heaven help him.
He unleashed the full tenderness of his mouth on her neck, sliding up to the curve of her ears and down to the point of lace at her collarbone. The woman in his arms fairly ignited. Banished for now was the gentleman’s daughter with her demure glances and modest blushes. A stormy tempest brewed in his embrace, promising the hopeful lover a lifetime of memorable nights. Darcy covered her insatiable mouth again with his own, shivering when an answering whimper of pleasure reached his ears.
He moaned softly, his lips searching over her lovely face for any hidden places they might have neglected. Her breath warmed his cheek as her lips parted slightly and another muffled sound came... except this sound had not come from either of them. He drew back, his brow furrowed as he gazed at her curiously. “Did you...?”
She shook her head slightly, eyes widening as she heard it again. It sounded suspiciously like raspy chuckles, and by now, neither of them was in the slightest mood for such mirth. Her heart pounding in combined hope and mortification, she deliberately turned to the bed... slowly, so Darcy could not miss the direction of her gaze.
Mr Bennet’s eyes were open, and a disreputable grin played at his mouth. “Mr Darcy, good of you to drop by.” His voice was rusted and gravelled from disuse, but his words were clear enough. “I wonder, sir, if you would be so good as to look out that window there and tell me if my prize sow has just flown away.”
Darcy bolted to his feet, then stammered an embarrassed apology to Elizabeth for nearly upending her on the floor. Mr Bennet chuckled once more, then his eyes drifted shut, not to open again until morning.
“W hat are you doing back so soon?”
Darcy looked up from his third cup of coffee as his cousin, pressed and polished to a spit-shine, finally graced Netherfield’s breakfast room with his presence. Richard pulled up short as he peered his cousin in the face.
“You look a fright. Did you leave your valet in London?”
“You ought to know. It looks as though you made use of his services.”
Richard shrugged with a grin. “Guilty as charged.”
Darcy poured himself some more coffee. “I thought you military men were early risers.”
“We are also practical. Where there is no lad blowing away at his blasted trumpet, we take our rest when we can. That does not answer my question. Were you not on Wickham’s tail?”
“Probably not, but it matters little at the moment. Aunt Catherine seems to have slipped that snare you set at Darcy House.”
“Oh, yes, I heard something about that.” Richard pulled back a chair and helped himself to the pot of coffee, glancing up at Darcy in annoyance when only a trickle came out.
Darcy could not help a little smirk. “Has she turned up here, then?”
“Yesterday morning while we were all at Longbourn, but we have not heard a peep since then. Mr Gardiner came to speak with me yesterday evening, but I was out. He told Bingley that it had something to do with our aunt, but he did not wish to leave any written message. I had intended to ride over this morning to see what it was—I expect they’ve heard she was in the vicinity and wondered about an introduction. Did you know,” Richard laughed, “she seems to have travelled with Caroline Bingley?” Richard shook his head, a little hiss escaping as he tamped down another wave of wondering laughter. “That is one carriage I would be happy to escort—from horseback .”
“Yes, I heard. They paid a visit to Elizabeth yesterday afternoon.”
“What! She would not!” Richard brandished his practically empty coffee cup expressively. “They have never been introduced! Furious she is, I expect, but stooping to visit a farm of no account and have words with a girl of no name with no proper introduction? She would never demean herself!”
Darcy slammed his fist on the table. “ That is my future wife you are insulting!” he snarled.
Richard shrank, holding up a hand in a gesture of defeat. “I did not mean it quite that way. Did you sleep at all last night?”
Darcy sighed, dropping his face to his hand as his elbow propped on the table. “Not exactly.” He volunteered nothing else.
Richard, still cringing, waited a moment, then another. Had Darcy fallen asleep at the table? “So…” he probed at last, “this visit our aunt paid to your Miss Bennet… she did not frighten the young lady off, did she?”
A sly smile cracked below the hand, but the eyes remained hidden for just another moment. “No.”
Richard drew a long breath in relief. Darcy was a changed man when Elizabeth Bennet was about, and it did his cousin’s heart good to see it. Darcy was more a brother to him than his own brother, the viscount, ever had been. The surly bear who had replaced the amiable fellow at his father’s death had finally begun to crawl back into its cage, at the command of a pert young woman. An exceedingly pert one, perhaps.
“Are you going to tell me what happened between Miss Bennet and our aunt, or are you leaving me in suspense?”
Darcy dropped his hand, a broad grin livening his tired features. “Elizabeth has found the perfect way to deal with our aunt, and she did it in a matter of seconds. Cheerful obstinacy. I understand Drake was the first to hit upon that, but it took him years, and she was not even married to Uncle Lewis at the time. I never had the courage, myself. I was always afraid to appear ungentlemanly, but I doubt anyone witnessing the exchange yesterday at Longbourn could have wondered which was the real lady of the two.”
“Would that I had seen it!” Richard chuckled longingly. “So, vanquished as she apparently was, has she flown back to Kent?”
“Hardly. She has not given up quite yet.”
“Perhaps not, but where would she go? You said yourself that this is the finest house in the neighbourhood, and with Caroline in her company, she was not welcomed here. You know our aunt would never room in the lodgings in Meryton. She has probably returned to London and imposed herself on my mother.”
“Did you not hear of the other member of their party?”
Fitzwilliam’s brow furrowed, then cleared. “Oh, yes, that parson fellow. Of what significance is that?”
“He happens to be engaged to one of Elizabeth’s friends, a Miss Charlotte Lucas. Her father is a knight, though an impoverished one.”
Richard’s face whitened in a mixture of lively amusement and horror. “She wouldn’t!”
“She is very determined. She has some special obsession with Anne becoming a Darcy.” He shrugged. “Even sickly as she is, Anne has a title and an estate in her own right. She could have done much better than me, but she seems to follow her mother’s lead. It must be difficult to do otherwise.
“As for Miss Bingley, she knows I would never marry Anne, but I expect she hoped our aunt could do enough to turn me away from Elizabeth. Neither of them is quite rational about the matter. No, I imagine they have not gone to London but have installed themselves at Lucas Lodge, which means we should be expecting a call… right about now.”
Even as he spoke, Richard’s head came up at the grinding sound of carriage wheels on the drive. He looked back to Darcy, eyes narrowed. “You should have gone into the military.” Darcy’s eyes crinkled over his cup as he drained the last dregs of coffee.