Truth about Mr. Darcy (18 page)

“Actually, you have Mr. Bennet to thank. It seems he has decided to take pity on you.” Darcy handed him a glass of wine as they waited for Jane, Elizabeth, and Georgiana to join them. Bingley would be meeting them at the theatre.

“Well then, I shall do so when next I see him.” They sipped their wine in companionable silence. “I understand my parents paid you a visit earlier in the week.” Darcy nodded. “I would like to offer my support to you and Miss Bennet, as well. From what I have seen of her, she is an excellent woman. I believe, Cousin, that had I met her first, second son or not, I would have been quite unwilling to relinquish such a treasure to any man, to say nothing of the likes of you.”

Darcy smiled. “Believe me, Fitzwilliam, when I say there is no other woman like Elizabeth. You can have no idea what she is to me, no idea at all. I have been completely at her mercy from nearly the very first moment of our acquaintance, yet I was too proud to acknowledge it for far too many weeks. She had absolutely no idea of my regard, which, I will admit, when I finally realized it, pained me considerably. When I now think of what I would have missed had I not declared myself and continued to stubbornly resist her beauty and her wit, it frightens me to no end. I am determined to spend every moment of my life leaving her in no doubt of my affection.”

Colonel Fitzwilliam laughed. “Yes, I noticed as much the other afternoon. I do hope you realize we are not blind, Darcy. Your affection for Miss Bennet is quite transparent to all who have had the pleasure of seeing you together. No one could ever doubt your deep attachment to her, but I assume you also realize it could very easily be misconstrued by gossips and naysayers. I hope you will restrain your eagerness for her society when we are out in company tonight. As your marriage has yet to be sanctioned by the church, I doubt very much you will wish to call attention to Miss Bennet and yourself in any way that may assist in lending credibility to Aunt Catherine’s slander. Be very careful with her, Cousin. There is far more at stake here than just Miss Bennet’s reputation.”

With a scowl, Darcy promised his cousin he would be on his best behavior for the evening, but his word proved difficult to keep once he saw Elizabeth wearing her new emerald gown. He had found himself paying the modiste and her staff a personal visit earlier in the week, and it was far from sociable. Indeed, Mrs. Duval had been so apologetic and so regretful of the treatment Elizabeth had received that she had promised the completion by Thursday of at least three of the gowns Elizabeth had ordered, including the one she would wear for her wedding. They had all arrived earlier in the day with Mrs. Duval’s compliments, accompanied by two of her most trusted assistants to see to any necessary adjustments that might have had to be made. Elizabeth had spent the bulk of the afternoon closeted in her rooms with Jane and Georgiana, trying them on.

Darcy thought she looked stunning in the dark green silk creation she had chosen to wear that evening. It was elegant and tasteful while showing off her curves in a most flattering manner, making him conscious of the fact that he had not been alone with her for days. It took every ounce of restraint he possessed not to pull her into his arms and press his lips to her mouth. The emerald and diamond necklace he had given her was beautifully displayed against her creamy breasts. He swallowed hard and repressed a powerful urge to reach out his hand and caress her, to take both soft globes in his mouth and make her moan with pleasure.
God, but I want her! How am I ever going to make it through this damned evening without touching her?
Darcy could already tell he would fail miserably and, terrified he would soon take to acting upon his forbidden impulses, ran a shaky hand through his hair.

Darcy’s eyes bored into her with a searing heat that reached all the way to her inner depths, causing Elizabeth to flush each time she met his gaze.

Throughout the evening Darcy struggled to remain a gentleman, keeping the physical contact between Elizabeth and him to a minimum, but by the commencement of the second act, he was almost at his wits’ end. Throughout the entire first act he had not been able to tear his gaze from her at all. He had found himself mesmerized by the small smile that played across her lips and the sparkle in her eyes as she watched the actors perform on stage. He observed the steady rise and fall of her breasts as she breathed and the way her tresses bounced when she laughed. She was sitting in the corner of the box, to his right, and, deducing that very little would be discerned by anyone else in their party in the darkened interior of the theatre, he slowly slid his fingertips along the contour of Elizabeth’s leg.

He felt her body tense. She closed her eyes, and Darcy repeated the action, watching her lips part and her breathing become more rapid. He felt an immediate tightening in his trousers as he observed the swell of her breast, and his own breathing increased. Impulsively, he took her hand and placed it in his lap, over his arousal. Her eyes flew open, and he began to stroke the length of her arm with agonizing slowness.

Finally, Elizabeth turned her head and met Darcy’s intense gaze. She felt a deep pull within her and an insistent throbbing between her legs, which made her long to run her fingers over his erection. It suddenly seemed far too long since she had last felt his touch, but this was not the place to act upon such desire. She swallowed hard and fought it, finally succeeding in pulling her arm from Darcy’s grasp. He seemed unwilling to relinquish her easily, giving in only after Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned forward in his seat and pointedly cleared his throat.

Against his better judgment, Darcy continued to try his hand at coercing Elizabeth throughout the remainder of the play.

Shortly before the play was to end, she had finally had more than she felt she could possibly bear, and rose from her seat under the pretense of getting some much-needed fresh air. She brushed past Bingley and Jane on her way out of the box. They hardly noticed.

Not half a minute later, she heard Darcy’s voice call to her. She was but halfway down the grand staircase and stopped to wait for him. He was carrying her new fur pelisse and gloves, as well as his own coat, gloves, and hat. When they reached the entrance, he eased the pelisse to her shoulders, and his fingertips lingered. With Darcy’s hot breath upon her neck, Elizabeth began to fasten the clasps, and a feeling of unease descended upon her. She found herself thinking of Georgiana and the conversation they had earlier in the afternoon. Her discomfort with the situation increased. Elizabeth knew that, though they appeared to be quite alone at the moment, they were still very much in public, in a crowded London theatre full of people who would be descending upon them in a matter of minutes. It was too much for her, and she found herself pulling away from him just as his lips brushed her cheek.

Darcy drew close to her once more and murmured in her ear, “You are so beautiful tonight, my love. I hardly know how I have managed to keep my hands from you this evening. You have been driving me to distraction ever since I first saw you in the drawing room.” The soft timbre of his voice sent shivers down her spine.

“I believe we are currently in the middle of a theatre, Mr. Darcy,” she said with only a shadow of her usual archness. “From what I knew of you in Hertfordshire, sir, I would have expected the master of Pemberley to be well practiced in the art of self-control by now.”

Darcy laughed, his breath stirring the curls upon the nape of her neck, and said, “I believe that was only when you first knew me, Miss Bennet, for it has been many, many weeks now since you have managed to drive away all remaining fragments of that self-control I had once so prided myself upon.” He then gently directed her gaze to where their images were reflected in the panes of a large window. “Look at you, Elizabeth. Have you ever seen any woman looking as beautiful as you are this evening? My God, but I have missed having you in my bed.”

He had placed his hands upon her waist and was leaning forward to allow his lips the pleasure of kissing her neck when she withdrew from him again, her face flushed scarlet. She hurriedly walked toward the window and put distance between them. “Fitzwilliam,” she implored, “please, I beg you would not. Not here.”

He only continued to look at her with that same fire in his eyes. It was as though he had not heard one word she had said to him, and it angered her enough to say, in a low voice, “I remember a time, sir, when you almost murdered a man who had dared to speak disrespectfully of me. I would dearly wish to know what has changed so much since that day to have made it acceptable for you to behave thus with me in the middle of a public theatre? Have your aunt’s words already faded from your memory? Have the remnants of my reputation come to mean so little that you would risk causing a scandal here?” She gestured to their surroundings. Darcy instantly paled.

His shock, however, very soon gave way to growing indignation. Wrapping his hand around her upper arm, he escorted her from the building and out into the street, where he ordered their carriage. They stood without speaking until it came. No sooner had they seated themselves inside and closed the door than Darcy drew the shades and spoke, his voice shaking. “You dare to compare my conduct with the disgusting behavior of that… that despicable blackguard?”

Elizabeth visibly swallowed and turned aside her head. He leaned forward and grasped her chin in a somewhat rougher fashion than he had intended, and directed her face toward his. Elizabeth flinched, and after several seconds, Darcy released her. He slumped back against the interior of the coach to run the back of his hand across his pursed lips. “Is that truly what you think of me tonight, Elizabeth? That I have so little respect for you that I would act upon the same self-serving, loathsome impulses George Wickham possesses?”

“No,” she said with no little vehemence, “of course, you are
nothing
like him. You could
never
be like him.” A lone tear rolled down her cheek then, soon to be followed by another. She wiped them away. “Forgive me. I should never have spoken so. You are the last person who deserves such an unfeeling and unjust reproach for what I, of all people, should well know to have been simply a passionate response to the love you have for me. I do not know what is wrong with me tonight. Perhaps I am only too aware that we have not had a moment to ourselves in several days, but that can hardly compare with the fact that I am… not proud of our conduct this evening, and I am afraid my disapproval must also extend to several other, rather specific, unguarded moments we have spent in each other’s company while we have been in London, as well.”

She laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “To this day, Fitzwilliam, I have no idea what Mr. Wickham said to you to make you lose control like that. Perhaps it is best that I never know, but after what has transpired this afternoon, I can imagine only too well what it probably was, and it is, perhaps that, more than anything else, which has me feeling so very much unlike myself tonight.”

Darcy stared at her with growing concern. “What do you mean ‘after what has transpired this afternoon,’ Elizabeth?” When she did not immediately answer him, he reached across the coach and placed his hand upon her knee. “Elizabeth, did something happen this afternoon that I should know about?”

Elizabeth took a deep breath and nodded. “Georgiana has revealed to me that she is aware that you and I have anticipated our wedding vows. It was not my intention to confirm or deny it, but the mention of such a subject quickly led to other questions she has had regarding trust and broken promises. She also shared something with me that was both very personal and extremely difficult for her. To be honest, I was stunned.”

Darcy could hardly believe his sister would have mentioned such a thing to anyone—even to Elizabeth—but he had to know for certain what he thought and what she had actually heard were, indeed, the same thing. “Did she tell you about Wi… about Ramsgate?” he asked.

Elizabeth nodded. “She told me everything. I am certain you, more than anyone, are well aware that Wickham’s treachery has greatly affected her self-confidence and her trust of others—of gentlemen in particular. A great deal of her distress this week has been owing to her belief that you, the one person she had felt she could trust implicitly not to behave in a similar manner had, in all actuality, seduced me, thus jeopardizing my reputation and causing all of our recent difficulties with Lady Catherine. I, of course, informed her that is far from the truth. I do believe I finally managed to convince her of it by the time we parted to dress for the theatre, but it does not lessen the guilt and mortification I must bear for our thoughtlessness and our total want of propriety while in company with others—your sister, especially. You must admit, Fitzwilliam, we have been far from discreet about hiding our gestures of intimacy toward each other since I have arrived in London. Even in Hertfordshire, there were times when we were less than careful.”

Darcy only looked at her, unable to say anything, his distress written on his face. “I am worried your sister is not the only one who knows for certain of our indiscretions,” Elizabeth admitted. “I am terrified to think of what my family would say if they were to find out, and I am very much afraid of the whole of London hearing that Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, who could have married any woman in the first circles of society, has chosen to marry, instead, a fortuneless country upstart whom he has taken as his… as his
mistress
.” She whispered the last word, tears welling up in her eyes.

Darcy scoffed. “That is absurd, Elizabeth.”

“Is it?” she asked. “Lady Catherine said very much the same thing to you, did she not?”

His face paled. “Is this what you have been thinking all evening? Every time I touched you, was I making you feel as though you are my mistress?” She said nothing, only averted her eyes. Darcy crossed over to the other side of the carriage to sit beside her and cradled her face in his hands. Elizabeth swallowed.
Yet another breach of propriety
.

“Elizabeth, please,” he pleaded. “Have I truly made you feel this way tonight?”

She closed her eyes and shook her head. “No. At least not at first. It was not until we were in the lobby that I had begun to feel… oh, what is the point?” she asked tiredly. “The damage has already been done, has it not?”

Darcy’s voice was soft and regretful. “It was never my intention to draw attention to us or to cause a scandal; you know it was not. I have missed you, Elizabeth. The last four days have been more than difficult for me. Even though we have shared the same house and have seen each other daily, I have not had a moment alone with you, and it has been driving me mad. I have been praying for an opportunity to express my love and devotion to you beyond mere looks of longing from across the room or a chaste kiss upon your hand. Perhaps my box was not the best venue for such a show of affection, but I believed you would have felt much the same after being unable to have so much as a moment to ourselves.”

“Fitzwilliam,” she said gently, “by no means do I object to you expressing your love for me. It has always been something I have welcomed and cherished, but I must now ask that we at least try to refrain from being so unguarded with our affections when we are not in the privacy of our own home and within the sanctuary of our own family party. We have only to wait two days, and we shall be husband and wife. I realize it has been difficult; it has been so for me, as well, but please, we must at least consider Georgiana and her feelings, not merely our own.”

Darcy colored. “I suppose I had hoped any speculation about us would simply disappear upon the arrival of our wedding day. I have been completely irresponsible in more ways than just one.” He raised her hand to his lips and bestowed a lingering kiss upon it as he caressed a curl at the nape of her neck. “I will endeavor to control myself when I am in your presence, my love. My uncle”—and here, he had the decency to blush—“has also alluded to our familiarity on occasion but has pledged his support and that of my aunt no matter what occurs. I confess his reassurance in this quarter may have lulled me into a false sense of security. The earl is a very powerful man, and he is truly taken with you, you know.”