The Engagement Page 6

  “What is that?” she asked, pointing to the mantelpiece. There was a brass pot hanging over the fire, and a thick fur was spread in front of it, along with some pillows.

  “It is family tradition at Pemberley. We often drink mulled wine on cold winter evenings. It is not winter yet, but I thought that perhaps we could perform this custom tonight.”

  He helped Elizabeth to settle in front of the fireplace, placing a tartan blanket around her shoulders. “Warm enough?” he asked.

  “Very,” she assured him, staring at the fire.

  Darcy busied himself with pouring the wine from the pot into the tin cups. “Be careful, it is very hot,” he said, handing her the cup. Elizabeth had to wrap the ends of the blanket around the cup, as it was so warm that it was almost uncomfortable to hold.

  “Delicious,” she praised after enjoying a few sips. It tickled her nose and throat, warming her insides. “What is in there?”

  “Raisins and a few spices; quite an old recipe, I believe.”

  They enjoyed their drinks silently for a moment longer, Elizabeth asking for another helping. Darcy drank only one cup, warning her that it was strong wine and that two cups were quite enough for her.

  Indeed, after finishing the second cup she experienced some dizziness and excessive warmth inside her body. She abandoned her blanket, feeling much too hot to bother with it. To her utter humiliation, a quiet but still perfectly well-heard burp formed in her throat. She had never behaved so inelegantly in front of any gentleman.

  Hearing Darcy’s chuckle, she managed to look at him, and when she saw that he was not disgusted with her lack of decorum, but on the contrary visibly amused, she smiled back at him.

  “Forgive me,” she said, but as soon as the words left her mouth, she hiccupped again.

  Darcy moved closer to her, rubbing her back. Within seconds she felt very sleepy, and gratefully rested her head on his shoulder. He pulled her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. Elizabeth put her hot cheek on his equally warm shirt-clad chest, fighting her eyelids from shutting down as she stared at the fire.

  “We should return upstairs,” he whispered, kissing the top of her head again.

  “Not yet,” she protested.

  “It is already well past twelve,” he pointed out. “You will find it difficult to wake up tomorrow morning.”

  “Can we not stay here?”

  “And freeze to death?” he questioned reasonably. “Soon the fire will be extinguished, and there are no more logs.”

  Elizabeth sighed, cuddling closely to him. “A few more minutes then?” she asked, allowing herself to close her eyes.

  “Wake up, Lizzy, wake up,” she heard, seemingly only a second later. “Come, we must go. The fire has nearly died down.”

  Yawning loudly, she widened her eyes exaggeratedly to keep them open. With Darcy’s help she stood to her feet, but as soon as he let go of her she stumbled forward. Darcy sat her down on a chair, murmuring, “There, there. In the future, no more than one glass of wine for you, my dearest.”

  “I am perfectly fine,” she assured, watching as he tidied the area in front of the fireplace, putting away the fur skin and tartan blanket.

  “Come,” he said, lifting her to her feet again. Elizabeth managed to walk straight to the door, but outside of it she stumbled again.

  Darcy picked her up in his arms, marching decidedly towards the stairs. This manly gesture delighted her to such an extent that she began to giggle quite uncontrollably.

  “Shush,” he scolded her, but when it did not help he bent his head down, capturing her lips with his.

  After a kiss which lasted for the entire flight of stairs, she was effectively silenced, contently snuggled in his embrace.

  Once they were back inside her room, he sat her on the bed before striding towards the mantelpiece, rousing the fire anew. As it was blazing again, he made his way back to her. “We will see each other at breakfast tomorrow morning. Have a good night.”

  To her ears, he sounded much too reserved to her liking. Leaning forward, she caught his sleeve, forcing him to sit on her bed. “Stay,” she said.

  He gave her a long look, shaking his head decidedly. “No.”

  Wrapping her fingers tightly around his wrist, she clung to his side. “Stay until I fall asleep.”

  He hung his head down, letting out a suffering sigh. “Get under the covers,” he ordered in a gruff tone, at which she squealed in joy, earning herself a scolding glare and reminding her of the old Mr. Darcy. Touching her finger to her lips, she nodded her head in agreement. “Shush, shush,” she ordered herself.

  She removed the robe, allowing it to fall to the floor, than she kicked off her slippers and they followed the robe at the heap beside the bed. She crawled under the sheets, pulling them down to invite Darcy in.

  He removed his shoes but nothing more. Then he lay down next to her, but staying on top of the covers. “Sleep,” he said, his finger stroking her cheek in a slow motion.

  Elizabeth snuggled close, wrapping her arm around his lean midsection. The wine running through her blood made her forget about propriety. It felt right to have him here, and she did not wish to be left alone. Why should he not stay until morning?

  “Sleep,” he repeated.

  “You will be gone,” she said, fighting to keep her eyelids open.

  He pulled the covers higher over her, putting his arm around her, bringing their bodies closer. “I will stay for a while,” he promised.

  Elizabeth nodded, allowing herself to drift away. She was the happiest woman in all of England tonight, there was no doubt about it.

  Her sleep was deep and strong, but she was forced to wake up an hour later when the pressure on her bladder became so great that she had to rise to use the chamber pot. Darcy was nowhere in sight, but as the fire in the room was blazing, the barely smoked logs burning strongly, she could only guess that he had gone not a long time ago.

  He’d kept his word. He had stayed with her for some time; he had not left as soon as she had fallen asleep.

  ***

  The following morning they met at the breakfast table. Elizabeth felt shy after their late-night rendezvous, blushing furiously as he greeted her. She remembered quite clearly that she had attempted to coerce him into joining her in the bed. She blamed it on the wine he had given her. She would not have been so forward otherwise. Darcy behaved his usual polite, calm, and reserved self. He took the seat next to Elizabeth, but apart from a squeeze of her hand under the table and a few warm glances, he was entirely focused on the food on his plate. He had to be hungry.

  From a glance out of the window one could see that the weather had improved greatly over the night, and there was no reason for the Bennet sisters to say at Netherfield any longer, especially when there was still some packing and last-minute preparations to be done before their trip to London. They were needed at home even though they would prefer to stay here with their men.

  Elizabeth stole a few glances at Jane. As her sister noticed her longer-than-usual staring, she earned herself a questioning gaze. There was no difference to be seen in Jane’s outer appearance; she looked as beautiful, stoic, and angelic as ever.

  Yesterday, Elizabeth had given little thought to what she had witnessed in the corridor, being entirely occupied with Darcy. This morning, however, the scene of Jane and Mr. Bingley, kissing while her sister dragged the man back into her bedroom, stood before her eyes anew, not wishing to go away. For certain she was more than surprised with Jane’s behaviour, who in her view was the most proper young woman of her acquaintance. She had never imagined Jane would ever behave with such passionate abandon. On the other hand, she and Mr. Bingley were engaged, in love, soon to be married, and certainly were allowed certain liberties when done in private.

  The warm and large presence of Darcy’s hand on her leg brought her attention back to the present moment.

  “You have eaten very little,” he said.

  Elizabeth looked down at
her unfinished eggs then she smiled at him.

  He ran his hand up and down her thigh, which made the blood rise in her cheeks again. Standing up, he took her plate and walked away a few steps to the side cabinet to prepare a fresh plate of warm eggs for her.

  “Eat,” he said.

  She smiled gratefully, eating her eggs obediently. Her thoughts stubbornly circled around last evening. She had never thought to see this side of her most beloved sister. Perhaps some matters of one’s life should stay private, and not even the closest ones should look into them?

  Elizabeth was rather surprised when after breakfast Darcy announced that they would take a walk in the park before the ladies’ departure to Longbourn. It was said in such a tone that no one doubted that he wished for privacy, and did not invite anyone else on to join them.

  She was surprised with the abruptness of his tone and manner, but did not protest when he helped her into her coat, accepting his arm as he led them outside. As soon as they were on the lane which curved in a large irregular circle around the house, he released her arm, and facing her, his tone serious, asked, “Have I upset you with my behaviour?”

  Surprised with his question, she did not answer instantly.

  “Was I too forward last night?” he questioned, his expression strained.

  “No, no, no,” she answered, shaking her head. “It was a lovely evening,” she assured.

  His face and body relaxed visibly. With a smile, she stepped closer to him, placing her cheek on his chest. His arms went around her and he kissed the top of her head. It was a sound idea that she had forgone on putting the bonnet on.

  “When you were so quiet at breakfast, barely acknowledging me, I began to think that I offended you last night.”

  “Far from that,” she said, tilting her head to look at him. “I felt like the happiest woman in all England.”

  He let out a relieved sigh. “This betrothal business is still very new to me. I do not wish to make you dislike me again.”

  She stared at him, speechless for a moment. She had not expected such words from him. “It is not possible, Fitzwilliam. I cannot promise not to ever become cross about something, angry or disappointed. But I love you; I cannot think of anything that you could do to undo it. As you are the best of men, my love for you will only grow.”

  Bending his head down, he touched her lips gently with his. Elizabeth wished for a longer kiss, but as they were in open view, she knew that it would not happen.

  “You were sad at breakfast, though. Is something worrying you? If you share it with me, perhaps I can help you,” he said, resuming their walk.

  “Can you not guess? I was thinking about Jane and Mr. Bingley.”

  “Why about them?”

  She stopped moving, staring at him in astonishment. “How can you ask, after what we witnessed last night?”

  Darcy frowned, looking down at her with concern. “You are not afraid that he hurt her, are you? I can assure you that as far as I know, Bingley would never harm a lady. You also should remember that your sister was a willing participant last night, from what I noticed. She was not coerced by him in any way.”

  “It never crossed my mind that she was!” she exclaimed.

  “I do not understand, then.”

  “I was shocked with what I saw. Jane is always so composed, so very proper. It was very much out of character.”

  “Elizabeth, your sister is a young and healthy woman who is engaged and in love with a handsome young man. I believe that what we witnessed was perfectly normal, nothing out of the ordinary, and nothing that you should worry yourself over.”

  “Should I talk to her about it?”

  “I would advise you do not.”

  “Why?”

  “It is a private matter between Bingley and your sister. You should not question her about it unless she begins to talk about it first, which I sincerely doubt.”

  “Jane and I have always shared everything.”

  “Still, I would caution you against speaking to her about it. Let me remind you that what she and Bingley do behind closed doors is entirely their business.”

  “You do not understand,” Elizabeth insisted. “She is my most beloved sister.”

  “I do understand. I have a close friendship with Bingley, and an even closer one with Colonel Fitzwilliam. However, I do firmly believe that there are matters which are too intimate to mention. Even though I confessed to Colonel Fitzwilliam the story of your rejection of my first proposal, I would never think it appropriate or necessary to share the intimate details of our relationship with him. I know that he does not expect me to, and he would never ask about it.”

  Elizabeth nodded at his reasoning, but she was not convinced. They walked in silence for some time when Darcy stopped abruptly, asking, “You are not jealous, are you?”

  “No!” she cried out. “Of course not! I was only concerned and surprised.” She did not know why, but she found it very difficult at the moment to look into his eyes. She felt him putting his finger under her chin, forcing her to look at him.

  He stared into her eyes for the longest time, not allowing her to break the contact. “I love you passionately, Elizabeth Bennet.”

  She rolled her eyes at him. “I do know of that.”

  “I do not think that you truly do. Have you forgotten what happened in Netherfield’s library at the very beginning of our engagement?”

  “I do remember, but since then you have barely touched me,” she complained.

  “You must understand why I keep my distance.”

  “I am not certain I do.”

  He sighed. “Elizabeth, I simply do not wish for us to lose control. We are not yet married.”

  “Is that the only reason?”

  “Darling, I wanted you in my bed before I realized that I loved you, and well before I even began to consider marrying you.”

  She tilted her head to the side. “It is difficult to believe.”

  “Believe me, then. You must have noticed my constant staring, my hostility towards you.”

  “You did not like me back then.”

  “I did not like Caroline Bingley. I could not care less whether she was in the same room with me or not. But when you were near, I had to clench my hands into fists to stop myself from touching you. My regard for you had always been passionate, almost from the first moments of our acquaintance. May I remind you how I asked you to consider elopement on the third day in our engagement?”

  “It was a jest on your part.”

  He shook his head. “It was not, I was perfectly serious. I was ready to put a blemish on my family name with the stigma of Gretna Green only so I could have you as my wife sooner.”

  “Apart from that morning in the library, we never touch the way Jane and Mr. Bingley did last night,” she complained.

  “Because once we start, I do not think that either you or I would be able to stop. It is not my wish for everyone in Derbyshire to gossip that the new heir to Pemberley was born two months earlier than he should have.”

  “I am not naive. I was raised in the country, if I may remind you. Moreover, I have read some books from Papa’s library which I probably should not have. I do know very well that a child will not come from kissing and touching.”

  “No, but it may surely come from this,” he grunted, pulling her to him a bit roughly. One of his hands rested firmly around her waist, the other arm lowered down considerably, pressing there. He lifted her up at the same time so that the tips of her feet were dangling in the air a few inches above the ground. Her eyes widened dramatically as she felt the change in his body prominently pressing into her lower stomach. “I beg you not to torture me with such discussions, as I will be forced to put on fresh trousers, which I am always very embarrassed to do.”

  He put her abruptly down and marched away from her, the ends of his great coat blowing behind him. After a long moment of standing speechless on the lane, she moved her legs, running after him. “Fitzwilliam!” she cri
ed as she caught up to him, tugging at his arm.

  He stopped, glaring at her.

  “I wish for you to touch me, hold me and kiss me,” she said. “I crave it. I trust you that you can be careful enough to avoid unwanted—for now, at least—consequences.”

  He considered for a moment before he gave her his answer. “Once we are in London, I will try to arrange some time alone for us. However, I do not promise anything to you.”

  Elizabeth rose on her toes, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Thank you,” she whispered.

  “Let us go,” he spoke gruffly, offering his arm to her. “They are surely waiting for us.”

  Chapter Seven

  “I must say, Lizzy, that I was not overly surprised when the news of your engagement reached us,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a kind smile on her face.

  Mrs. Bennet, Elizabeth, and Jane, as well as all the Gardiner children, were seated at the large table enjoying a late breakfast. Mr. Gardiner had left home hours ago, having many meetings planned since the early morning.

  “I was most surprised!” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, having swallowed the last piece of sweet croissant. “I always thought that Mr. Darcy did not like our Lizzy.”

  “I met Mr. Darcy when we were touring Pemberley,” Mrs. Gardiner reminded. “He was such a gracious host to us even though we were perfect strangers to him. It was not even an hour into our stay there when I understood that it was because of Lizzy we had received such a warm welcome from him.”

  Mrs. Bennet looked at her second daughter with large, round eyes. “Lizzy, you never told me that you visited Pemberley.”

  “There was no occasion for that, Mama,” Elizabeth said. “It was at Lambton, only five miles from Pemberley, when we received the news of Lydia’s elopement. It was because of that less-than-pleasant experience that we had to interrupt our stay.”

  “Less than pleasant? Why are you saying that, Lizzy? In my view it was terribly romantic. I swear that every mother in Hertfordshire is envious of me, considering the excellent matches that my daughters have made so far. Mr. Wickham may not be as rich as Mr. Bingley or Darcy, but I am certain that he will do a career in the army, especially with our dear Lydia at his side. Elopements are in fashion today, and I am certain that many mothers of young ladies in the neighbourhood wish for their daughters to be abducted by some handsome officer the same as our dear Lydia was.”