Page 8 of Winter of Passion (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

E lizabeth closed the door to her chamber, locked it, then unlocked it.

She was nervous and impatient, uncertain of what to do.

She could not change into her night clothes as she was certain Mr Darcy would come to complete their earlier conversation.

She glanced at her image in the mirror, replaced a hairpin, then sat on the bed.

Several minutes passed, and she wondered how long a drink or two would last. Surely Mr Bingley was eager to join his wife, so it should not be long.

And yet, time passed, and she felt cold, so she put another log on the fire, then she listened at the door, but there was silence.

And still, the sound of voices could be heard from downstairs.

Eventually, she heard steps along the hall and placed her ear against the door. They were his steps, she recognised them, but she also heard Miss Bingley’s voice, as well as Bingley’s. Then Mr Darcy’s footsteps passed her room, and she heard his door closing heavily.

Clearly, he had retired for the night, and their conversation would need to be delayed again.

She felt a sudden jealousy towards Miss Bingley.

Elizabeth’s mind knew she had no reason to worry — Miss Bingley was likely the last woman who would stir Mr Darcy’s romantic interest — but her heart was still jealous and resentful of the lady who had kept him away from her.

Further reasoning led her to accept that it was not Miss Bingley’s fault but her own.

She could have been married to him for months now if she had not been prejudiced against him and silly enough to trust Mr Wickham.

She could not forgive herself for her spiteful rejection, but it seemed he had, and that proved he had a better character than her.

Sad and disappointed, she finally changed for the night. She put on her nightgown and brushed her hair. She lay down in bed, pulled the blankets around her, and tried to sleep.

A while passed until a sound — small and barely audible — startled her.

At the edge between dreams and reality, she held her breath, listening more carefully.

There was a brief tap on the door; her heart pounded, and its beating sounded even louder, so she needed another moment before she hurried to the door and opened it slowly.

Every fibre of her body warmed when she saw Mr Darcy — tall, almost covering the doorway — smiling at her.

“Forgive me. I know it is very late,” he whispered.

“Please come in,” she invited him before he even had time to ask. She closed the door and, on an impulse, locked it.

He was still dressed formally, and she flushed, realising she was not even wearing a robe.

“I went to sleep,” she explained as his eyes moved over her rumpled bed. “It is very late, and I thought you would not come.”

“I returned to my room earlier, but Bingley and his sister were still awake, so I waited a while. It is already past midnight. I shall leave you to sleep, and we may talk tomorrow. Perhaps we shall find a few moments for a walk in the garden?”

“Yes! No, no! I mean, please do not leave. We may walk in the garden tomorrow, though…” she mumbled.

“You are barefoot, and you must be cold,” he suddenly said, his voice changed.

“Yes, I should put on my slippers…” She did so, turning her back to him, but his gaze still burned her.

“Would you like to sit?” she asked when she was ready.

“Shall we sit here, on the bed?” he asked. “It should not take long. You look tired, and you should sleep.”

“Oh…I know I look terribly ill,” she said, brushing her fingers through her hair.

“You look terribly charming,” he answered, the little smile on his lips revealing dimples. She quivered.

“You are cold,” he insisted.

“I am not…just a little nervous.”

“I am nervous too…I still cannot believe I am here, at this time, talking to you and that you allowed me to. You did allow me, did you not? I hope I have not misunderstood your words again.”

“I did not allow you to come, Mr Darcy, I suggested it, and I invited you. I cannot imagine how you could misunderstand me.”

They finally sat on the edge of the bed with only a few inches separating them.

“Then…you should not doubt the nature of this conversation. Miss Bennet, you are too generous to trifle with me. I know that your feelings and your opinion are not as they were last April, but I do not dare assume how much they might have changed and what their nature might now be.”

“Oh…how much? They have changed utterly and completely. I hope you know that. Why else would I have asked you to my room last night?”

“Perhaps out of gratitude? Out of a desire to dissipate my distress?”

“You do not dare assume too much, so you certainly assume too little, sir. You wonder about the nature of my feelings and how much they have changed. I wonder the same…”

“Do you? My feelings and my desires have not changed. They are the same, only perhaps stronger and deeper than last April. Even if I may sound selfish, I must ask, I must know. One single word from you will either silence me forever on this subject or make me speak of it endlessly.”

He looked distressed, uncertain, his voice — hoarse, tender — sounded hesitant; his gaze — as dark as the night but much warmer — melted her.

“You have always been more eloquent in your actions than with words, Mr Darcy. It was my fault that I misunderstood you for so long. Not any longer.”

She stretched out her hand and touched his face. He stood still, then his hand covered hers, and his head turned until his lips rested inside her palm.

“There are still words which need to be said,” he continued. “And questions that need to be asked. I have ardently loved and admired you for a long time. Will you allow me to prove it to you for the rest of our lives, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth?”

Her hand was still in his, and she grasped his other one.

“I have loved and admired you for a long enough time to know there is nothing I wish more than to share my life with you, my dearest Fitzwilliam. There, I have said it. I have wanted to say your name for so long that it burned my lips.”

The expression of heartfelt delight on his face brought her to tears. He leant closer, and his thumb gently brushed over her lips, which parted eagerly. But the burning remained, even when his lips touched and tasted hers.

His arms closed around her, pulling her to his chest, while the kiss continued until the need for air broke it. Only then did they realise they were lying on the bed, tightly embraced, his body almost crushing hers.

He withdrew slightly so he could look at her; one of his arms was around her back, while the other hand tenderly caressed her face.

“There are still many things to discuss before we continue this,” he said. “And you still seem to be cold. You should get into the bed, and I shall cover you to warm you.”

“I am warm enough,” she replied.

Still, he arranged pillows behind her, and she rested against them, then he wrapped the blankets around her.

“Will you leave?” she asked.

“No, not yet.”

He put another log on the fire, then he returned and sat on the bed next to her.

His arm slipped around her shoulders again, and her head rested on his chest. The torment was gone, leaving two light hearts beating in harmony, and for a while they only remained there silently, heart to heart, hand in hand, body to body.

“We are engaged, are we not, Elizabeth?” he eventually enquired like an incredulous child.

“I hope we are!” She laughed joyfully. “We must speak to Papa, though. I am sure he will grant his blessing as soon as he recovers from the shock.”

“I shall speak to him tomorrow morning. And to Bingley, of course. We are in his house, and you are his sister, so he must be informed immediately.”

“Oh…” Elizabeth sighed. “I just realised that our engagement will cause a terrible uproar. I can imagine Mama’s response, and Aunt Phillips’s, and everyone else’s.

And all the strangers that will arrive… Not to mention Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst…

Poor Jane, instead of helping her, we shall certainly disrupt her plans. ”

“We might,” he admitted, bringing her hands to his lips.

“And Papa…if he finds out we are betrothed, he will certainly not allow me to stay here, under the same roof as you. He will give his blessing but demand I return to Longbourn.”

“I could not fault him if he did,” Darcy agreed. “I refuse to imagine what your father or Bingley would say if they knew of our night-time encounters.”

The trace of a joke in his voice was obvious, but Elizabeth felt more distressed than amused.

“Poor Jane. Everything she wished for and planned with so much effort was in vain. I shall not be here to help, and people will speak more of our engagement than of the first parties she organised as Mrs Bingley. It is not fair…”

He noticed the depth of her distress and kissed her hands again.

“So…what do you suggest we do?”

“What if…” She looked at him pleadingly and hopefully as she searched for the right words.

“What if we keep the engagement secret for a fortnight? Until all the parties are over and the guests have left?”

“That would mean deceiving your father, and I do not feel comfortable doing it,” he replied in earnest. “I would like to at least tell him, Bingley, and your sister, and Georgiana and my cousin. For everyone else, the announcement may wait a fortnight.”

“Could we at least wait a few more days, until all the guests have arrived and everybody is properly settled? As soon as I see Jane does not need my help any longer, you may speak to Papa, and I shall return to Longbourn.”

“I cannot refuse you. Surely you know that,” he reluctantly agreed. “I can understand your reasoning, but I fear your father would consider we betrayed his trust.”

“How could he know? He surely does not suspect anything beyond a mere friendship between us. He will be utterly shocked when he hears the news.”