To Conquer Mr. Darcy (12 page)

A smile curved her lips as she considered the hubris it would require to take on the responsibility of taking care of Fitzwilliam Darcy. Continuing to stroke his hair, she let her eyes trace the lines of his face, wondering at her sanity in allowing herself to love this complex and often difficult man—as if she had
allowed
herself to love him; the truth was closer to what she had said of him at Hunsford, that she loved him against her will, against her reason, and even against her character. It was certainly poetic justice.

He opened his eyes at that moment, catching the unguarded look of affection on her face.
Well, if he was unsure before this how I feel about him, I have just betrayed myself,
she thought uneasily. Retreating behind a mask of humor, she said, “I was beginning to wonder if you were asleep, sir, you appeared so comfortable.”

Answering her in kind, he retorted, “And if I had, it would merely be because thoughts of you keep me awake at night.”

She raised her eyebrows. “It seems I have many sins to answer for in your mind!”

“And many more I hope you will commit, as well,” he said softly, wishing that he could see that caring look in her eyes again. Sitting up, he took her face between his hands and kissed her slowly and deeply, and slid his hands gradually back into the depths of her hair, allowing himself to be enveloped in complete sensation. He continued to kiss her until he deemed her ardor the equal of his, then pulled back to look at her. The warmth of desire in her eyes amidst the becoming dishevelment of her appearance left him both aroused and gratified by his ability to give her pleasure.

“You look very pleased with yourself,” Elizabeth teased.

“Oh, I am,” he murmured enticingly. “Almost as pleased as I am with you.” Wrapping his hand in a lock of her hair, he pulled her toward him in such a way that she ended up in his embrace when their lips met again.

The exquisite sensations of delight that coursed through her in response to his touch seemed more than she could bear, and she knew in the deepest fibers of her being just how much she wanted him. His lips began to roam freely, and she gasped in shock and unforeseen pleasure as his hand rose to cup her breast. She could feel the touch of his hand through her entire body, and as she found herself seeking more of it by arching her body against his fingers, she realized how near she was to the point of allowing him anything. Somehow she forced herself to say, “My family will be wondering what has become of me.”

Gently caressing her breast as he let his lips drift downward to the neckline of her gown, he whispered, “Tell them that I was making love to you in a secluded glen.”

In the instant before reality intervened, all she could think of was how much she wished she could allow him to do just that, and it was only her fear of how vulnerable her feelings were to him already that permitted her to remember the reasons why she must not. Even as she was responding to and reciprocating his demands, she said, “Please, sir, I cannot make you stop, but I beg you to do so anyway.”

“It will be weeks before I see you alone again,” he pleaded, hardly knowing what he was saying. She moaned as his thumb drifted across her breast with an intimacy she had never imagined, her need for him growing by the minute.

“Even so,” she whispered, her lips meeting his again and again, until he pulled back and, with an obvious effort to control himself, ran his hands over his face.

It was several minutes until he had the self-possession to speak calmly. “My love, you are a delightful menace to my peace of mind.” He wondered how on earth he could allow her to leave with her aunt and uncle. Standing, he held out a hand to her. “I think that it is past time for us to leave here.” His resolve would fail if they remained there, and his body was demanding with every fiber to discover what further intimacies she would allow him.

“Yes,” she said, smiling lest he think her angered with him. She was grateful for his hand, uncertain of her own strength at that moment. As in the past, she felt oddly weak when he called her ‘my love,’ and this time she was in no position to take exception to his familiarity. “But you will need to give me a moment, sir, or we shall certainly cause talk.” She gathered her hair and twisted it into a more presentable form. He fetched her bonnet as she restored the hairpins to their proper position. She reached her hand out for it, but instead he settled it on her himself, his fingers to lingering on her neck as he tied it in place.

On the return journey they attempted to distract themselves with a lively debate on the relative merits of Coleridge and the newly published
Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage
of the scandalous Lord Byron, leading Darcy to contemplate the interesting reading material that Mr. Bennet thought fit for a young woman, until they reached the point where they would go their separate ways. Darcy was unsure how far he could trust himself, and limited himself to touching her cheek. “Miss Bennet…”

“Yes?”

He was about to speak when he recalled his promise not to rush her, and he shook his head with an expression of regret. “No, not yet,” he said, as much to himself as to her. “I will see you tomorrow, then, at Longbourn.”

She tried to speak to his uncertainty with her eyes.
Surely he must know after today that he has won,
she thought. “I shall look forward to it, sir.”

“For the sake of my sanity, I hope that you persuade your aunt and uncle to come to Pemberley.”

“Only time will tell on that,” she said.

“Just remember, Miss Bennet, that I know where the Lambton Inn is, and you already know I am not above kidnapping when it suits my purposes.”

She laughed. “I shall keep that in mind. Until tomorrow, then.”

He kissed her hand lingeringly. “Until then.” He watched as she walked toward Longbourn, not moving from his position until she was long out of sight.

* * *

Bingley appeared in the door of the billiard room, where Darcy had retreated after dinner for some much-needed peace and an opportunity to reflect on the events of the day. “Bingley!” his friend exclaimed. “This is the earliest I’ve seen you back from Longbourn in days. Would you care for a game?”

“How could you?” his friend said in a low voice.

“How could I what?” Darcy began to rack the balls.

“I seem to have played the fool here. When you did not want to talk about your interest in Lizzy, I assumed it was because you were not yet sure of your feelings. It never occurred to me, not once, that your motives could be less than honorable,” Bingley said, his voice full of anger and hurt. “She is going to be my sister soon, for God’s sake, Darcy!”

Darcy looked up at him sharply. “Bingley, what are you talking about? Of course my intentions towards Eliz… Miss Bennet are honorable—why would you think anything else?”

“Because I have heard what everyone is saying!”

“And what, pray tell, is that?” Darcy asked with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

“Every servant here is talking about the compromising situations you have been seen in! By tomorrow, the word will be all over Meryton, if it is not already, and Lizzy’s reputation will be in tatters, thanks to you!”

Darcy rolled his eyes. “Calm yourself, Bingley! I am not denying that we have had… tender moments, but good God, man, the only reason I am here in the first place is to try to convince her to marry me!”

“If that is the case, then why have you not proposed to her?” Bingley demanded.

Gripping the edge of the table tightly, Darcy said in a quiet but dangerous voice, “I have, and she refused me, and I am attempting to convince her to change her mind. If you have any doubts about the value of
my
word, I suggest that you apply to your future sister, who will confirm this in every particular.”

Bingley seemed to deflate in response to his words. “Really? I mean… everyone is saying that you have no intention of…”

“Bingley, I assure you that I am the only expert on what my intentions are, and if it will reassure you I will promise to make them absolutely and publicly clear tomorrow, although God only knows if Elizabeth will ever forgive me for it. Will that satisfy you?” Darcy spat out the words.

“Darcy, I… I’m sorry… I should not have doubted you, but when I heard what they were saying…”

“Please do not tell me what they said.” He stalked out of the room before he said anything worse.

On reaching his rooms, he threw himself down in a chair and pulled off his cravat.
Damn it!
he thought.
Just when things were going so well. How could I have been such an idiot as to not have been more discreet?

Wilkins emerged from the dressing room. “Good evening, sir. May I be of any assistance?”

Darcy tipped his head back and closed his eyes. “Yes, Wilkins. You can tell me what they are saying down in the kitchens about me.”

“If you wish, sir. There are some wild rumors that you have taken a mistress here, and that you have been found with her in compromising situations on several occasions, and that you will be marrying Miss de Bourgh. I have, of course, stated categorically that this is untrue in its entirety, and apparently one young woman who also works at Longbourn on occasion has also said that she does not believe a word of it.”

Darcy winced. “I assume the young lady in question is Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

“That would be correct, sir. I have taken the liberty of making some inquiries regarding these rumors, if that is of interest to you, sir.”

Darcy opened his eyes and scrutinized the ever-reliable and discreet Wilkins. “Pray continue,” he said.

“The original report seems to have been that you were seen emerging from the churchyard with Miss Bennet, who was flushed and too close to you. However, there are various embroidered versions of this that are more… compromising.”

Darcy ran his fingers through his hair. So the wildflowers had not been so very private after all. “Wilkins, I applaud your initiative, as ever,” he said tiredly.

Wilkins allowed himself a brief pleased smile. “Thank you, sir. Will there be anything else, sir?”

“Not at the moment, Wilkins,” Darcy said. “No, on second thought, Wilkins, please look in that second drawer there. Yes, that one, on the right. Do you see a small box there?”

“Yes, sir.” He picked up the box and brought it to Darcy.

Darcy waved him back. “No, I do not need it, Wilkins, but I would like you to look in it.” The puzzled Wilkins opened the box. “Now, if you would, please read the engraving inside the ring.”

Wilkins broke into an uncharacteristic broad smile as he obeyed. “May I offer you my congratulations, sir?”

“Not until the lady accepts it,” Darcy said. “However, I wanted to be sure you knew of its existence in case you ever needed to start a rumor of your own.”

“Yes, sir. I understand perfectly. In fact, sir, I was just thinking that you might be getting hungry later, and that this would be a good opportunity for me to stop by the kitchens to bring you a bite to eat.”

“A capital idea, Wilkins.”

Wilkins bowed and left. Darcy dropped his head into his hands. Elizabeth would be furious. He could only hope that the stories had not yet reached Longbourn. Not that this could make any difference in what he needed to do to protect her reputation, but if he could just have a few minutes alone with her to explain why he had to do this, perhaps her anger might be mitigated. But it seemed hardly likely that he would; he would not see her until after the arrival of her aunt and uncle the following day, and then she would be leaving on her journey. Well, there was nothing to be done for it, except to hope for a chance to explain himself. With a deep sigh, he walked over to his writing desk and drew out a sheet of paper.

* * *

Mrs. Gardiner’s suspicions had been raised against Elizabeth after receiving her letter, and those suspicions were now compounded by the warning that her niece had given her almost immediately after their arrival at Longbourn regarding the shyness of Miss Darcy and the need to be patient with her. She therefore watched most attentively when the Darcys arrived, and did not miss the small blush on her niece’s cheeks, nor the look in the gentleman’s eyes when they landed on Elizabeth.

Elizabeth made the introductions, and Darcy quickly engaged the Gardiners in a discussion of Derbyshire, Lambton, and their proposed travels. Mrs. Gardiner looked over at her niece, wondering why Lizzy had ever described this polite and unassuming young man as so proud and disagreeable. After some extended conversation, Darcy announced that his sister had a request to make.

All eyes turned to Miss Darcy, who said hesitantly, “Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, my b… brother and I would be honored if you and Miss Bennet would consent to be our guests at Pemberley for the d… duration of your stay in the area.”

The Gardiners glanced at each other in surprise. Mrs. Gardiner said warmly, “That is a very generous offer, Miss Darcy, but we could not presume to impose on you on such short acquaintance.”

“Nonsense,” said Darcy. “It would not be the least imposition. Miss Bennet is an acquaintance of long standing, and my sister and I would enjoy the opportunity to show you some of our favorite sights, and we are of course but a few miles from Lambton. Mr. Gardiner, if you enjoy fishing, there are several excellent locations on the grounds where you might like to try your hand.”

Mrs. Gardiner glanced at Elizabeth to attempt to ascertain her view of this invitation. Although clearly not surprised, her niece was making no attempt to participate in the discussion, and was sitting with her eyes averted. Presuming, however, that her studied avoidance spoke rather a momentary embarrassment than any dislike of the proposal, and seeing in her husband, who was fond of society, an interest in accepting it, she said, “Well, this is an unexpected opportunity, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps you would allow us a moment to discuss the possibility?”

“Of course,” Darcy said warmly.

Georgiana surprised both her brother and Elizabeth by adding a few words of her own. “Please, I would like it very much if you would consider it.”

The conversation had by this point drawn the attention of a surprised Mrs. Bennet, who felt the need to comment with excessive warmth on the great civility of the invitation, and all the fine things she had heard of Pemberley, to the embarrassment of her daughters. Jane tried in vain to steer the conversation to safer subjects.