Page 54 of These Dreams (Heart to Heart Collection #1)
Chapter fifty-four
R ichard had taken himself to his room, but after allowing the greater part of an hour, he slipped out again. It took him some while to locate his wandering cousin, but at last he discovered Darcy on one of the lower balconies, the one nearest the privacy of the library. It was mercifully warm this evening, with no rain threatening as far as he could see, but Darcy was not out there to enjoy the weather. His head was hanging, his shoulders as rounded as his tailored coat would allow, and he seemed to be staring at the ground.
Richard withdrew, leaning against one of the walls in the library. His fingers tapped the wood paneling. There was one way to offer his cousin some comfort to ease one of his first nights at home, and this would be the last night that he himself would be available to see it done properly. He slipped from the library and back out to the corridor, in search of one of the maids.
“Mary!” he called softly, when one known to him walked by. He motioned her near. “Will you step upstairs, please, and ask if Miss Bennet has retired? She is wanted in the library if she is available.” The maid seemed somewhat intimidated—she was not one of the upstairs maids—but she agreed. Less than ten minutes later, she returned with Elizabeth Bennet.
“Thank you, Mary, that will be all. Miss Bennet,” he continued in a clearly audible voice, “Mr Darcy and I had been looking over the shelves, and we were having trouble locating a certain book. I was hoping you could be of help.”
Elizabeth was regarding him cynically. “I had no idea that you were such an avid reader at half past eleven, Colonel.”
He motioned for her to follow him, and bless the woman, she did so without making further objection. “Miss Bennet, forgive my pretence. I am in need of your assistance, but it is not with a book.” He gestured with his head toward the row of windows, and her eyes quickly followed. An expression of heartfelt pity crossed her face, then she looked back to him with a wordless nod. He sighed in relief. “Thank you.”
The lady stepped away from him, and a moment later she slipped out the door to the balcony. Richard followed, then walked the length of the windows to find a seat where he could best see the couple. That seat, however, proved to be situated in a draught, and he left it to find another. The most comfortable seat in the corner had its view somewhat impeded by a shelf, but it was within a tolerable distance of the window. He could hear the hum of voices, and catch an occasional glimpse of Miss Bennet’s shawl and Darcy’s arm, and so that would suffice. Darcy could not claim that he was not acting as a chaperon.
E lizabeth touched the glass, and her heart ached for him. He looked… broken. The proud Darcy she had first met had been only a facade for the kind, tender man who lay beneath, and that was the man who now bowed his head over the railing in near defeat.
He turned when he heard the door open, and the look on his face, in that instant before it changed to welcome her, was one of deep anxiety. Then it was washed away, replaced by glad surprise. “Elizabeth! I thought you had retired.”
“I finished my book,” she smiled. That much was true, for the short volume of poetry she had taken to bed had not sustained her for long. She drew to his side at the railing to gaze down at the shrubberies. His eyes, however, were fixed on her, and she felt the heat rising to her cheeks from her neck. She turned to meet his look with a teasing smile. “You seem to have found something interesting in the library as well, William.”
He glanced back to the house, as if looking for something, and then nodded when he found it. “It was a contrary tale, full of scheming characters,” he murmured, then gave a short huff of mild amusement. He turned back to smile down at her. “Thank you, Elizabeth.”
She smiled and drew half a step closer. It was one of the warmest nights so far of the year, but she was not wearing outdoor attire. The heat from Darcy’s body was a beacon of comfort, and she could not help wishing that she could shelter under his arm. She suppressed a shiver—the last thing she wanted was to act the silly miss and beguile him into impropriety. She settled instead for easy conversation—something to take his mind off the present troubles.
“I think,” she mused lightly, “this may be one of my favourite views from the house. One can see the hills, a fair prospect of the lake, a small forest just there to the left, and some of the fields off to the right.”
“Elizabeth,” he was smiling faintly, “it is dark, and there is little moon tonight.”
“I have enjoyed this vantage point often enough,” she retorted archly. “I think I could sketch it from memory, had I any skill at drawing. You are fortunate that I know my own abilities well enough not to attempt it.”
His shoulder trembled slightly in a quiet laugh. “Perhaps we could concentrate on what can be seen in the dark. We have an unrivaled view of the stars from here.”
She tilted up her chin. “Alas, I cannot name more than one or two. You have a remarkable book in your library, but I have not yet found the time to read it. I believe that is the Orion constellation there, is it not?”
“No,” he answered in mild amusement. “The Hunter has gone south just now.” He took a moment to orient himself, then pointed at a particularly bright specimen. “There is Capella, in Auriga the Charioteer.”
“Ah,” she answered with vague understanding. “I think I have never heard of that one.”
“There are better known legends in the sky. Are you familiar with Perseus?”
“He rescued the princess from the dragon. Yes, I know the tale. It is that one, the chain of stars that look like a long ‘w’?”
“That is Cassiopeia, the queen. Perseus is just to the left—no, there.” He took the arm she had extended, cradling his hand below her elbow, and lowered his head near hers to share the same perspective. “It looks more like a bucket than a warrior, perhaps,” he admitted.
She laughed, and sensed a shiver pass through his shoulder. There was a brief indrawn breath, and his attention seemed to have been shaken. He felt closer now, and recklessly she decided she was grateful for the warmth. A little teasing could do no harm, surely…. “And what of that one, the triangular shape?” She tilted her head back a little, so that it nearly rested on his shoulder. “That must be something with a name, is it not?”
He was staring at the tendril of hair curling about the base of her ear, having lost all interest in the stars. “Hmm?”
She tipped her gaze up and around to offer a playful pout. “Really, Mr Darcy, if I am keeping you from slumber, you need only say as much.”
“I simply am not clear about which group of stars you meant. Perhaps if you showed me, very patiently?” He slipped behind her, leaning down a little nearer to her cheek. Wrapping an arm about her shoulders, he supported her pointing arm with one hand and cradled his other in her grasp. “Now,” he spoke low in her ear, “which stars did you mean?”
Elizabeth felt a sharp tingle down the back of her neck. The only stars she could see now appeared hazy, pirouetting euphorically about the horizon—and everywhere else she looked. “I think…” she blinked several times, but her vision was no clearer. “Those just above—” she attempted again, but he turned his head very slightly and she felt a whispered brush of his beard against the tip of her ear.
She closed her eyes tightly and tried to draw breath to speak again. Her arm wavered, her fingers now no longer pointing his, and slowly it dropped. His breath was hot upon her neck. “The stars to the left of—” she gestured feebly, and then his warm lips touched the very edge of her earlobe. A rush of air left her lungs, and she sighed, “Oh, bother with the stars.”
She felt his chest rumble, and then his arms dropped around her waist. The cool evening was long forgotten now, as every nerve in her body seemed to be on fire. His hands remained fixed, his fingers laced with hers, but she felt as though he were caressing her everywhere. Shivers raced over her skin, prickling down her back and through her core, as his lips slipped down the curve of her ear to the back of her neck.
Even could she have opened her eyes, she would have been blind. She felt his arms tighten, and his cheek was gently pressing against hers, nudging her head to the side and begging for more—just a little more of her to nuzzle. It was all she could do not to groan aloud and collapse entirely into his embrace.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered hotly into her ear, “do you wish for me to stop?”
She should say yes. She should push his hands away and affect indignation that he would presume upon her, when she had merely come to offer him company. She should leave the balcony at once, and refuse to see him again until morning light had rendered them both rational creatures once more! Instead, all she managed was a garbled denial, and she arched her shoulder into his chest as her head tilted to the side.
A pleased growl rattled in his breath, and she felt his mouth open to nibble at the sensitive part of her neck, where her heart beat the strongest. This time she did groan, very softly, but her neck cooled suddenly as he pulled back.
She opened her eyes in dismay, and found the explosions of light that had blinded her had faded again to distant pricks of starlight. “William?” she mumbled unsteadily. “Forgive me, William, I did not mean to behave so wantonly. I—”
He silenced her by cupping her chin and pressing a tender kiss to her apologetic mouth. “Elizabeth, you are magnificent,” he whispered, “but I fear our chaperon has caught a cold. Did you not hear him coughing?”
She darted her eyes to the window and felt an embarrassed smile grow on her face. “I had forgotten about the colonel! Oh, I should go.”
“I had forgotten about him as well,” confessed Darcy. “But I think his health will improve with a little more fresh air. Stay with me here a few more moments, Elizabeth,” he pleaded. “Just stand beside me, and keep me company for a while. I promise to behave the gentleman this time.”
She relented easily, allowing her head to fall against his shoulder as one of his arms draped gently round her. “Now, then, Mr Darcy,” she sighed against his arm, “are we to talk by rule, or remain silent?”
He pressed a kiss into her hair. “Whichever gives you the most pleasure, my love.”