Truth about Mr. Darcy

perhaps, another way, then, that I might ease your troubled mind as effectively as you seem to be able to ease mine, dearest?” She tilted up her face to his and parted her lips in an invitation.

It was the first time Elizabeth had ever referred to Darcy by such an endearment, and the fact that she was the one initiating the physical intimacy between them caused an unbearable source of emotion to surge through his breast. His body grew heated with undeniable passion, and before he could master himself, Darcy pulled Elizabeth against him in a tight embrace, kissing her passionately and with unwonted abandon.

He had caught her completely off guard. His way was usually more tender and less demanding, but apparently Elizabeth found this exchange to be far from unpleasant. So loving was her response, that his hunger for her threatened to overpower him.

They continued thus for what seemed an eternity, Darcy holding her as he ran his hands down her back and over her hips, reveling in the utter intoxication of losing himself in the woman he loved. He suddenly felt himself desiring her so much, he found himself vocalizing his fervent wish that she was already his.

Elizabeth gasped at the boldness of such a declaration, as well as the path of his hands as they traveled upward from her hips to caress the softness of her breasts. She froze, held captive by the many delectable shocks of desire coursing through her from this new intimacy.

It took Darcy a moment to comprehend, that Elizabeth was no longer returning his ardent kisses, and realizing with sudden horror the liberties he had been taking, he tore himself from her and stepped away.

“Forgive me, forgive me,” was all he could manage, but he repeated it over and over again in a whisper as he sank to his knees and ran his hands over his face. He was appalled he had taken advantage of Elizabeth in such a way—his Elizabeth, whom he loved and respected beyond measure—even beyond reason. He knew he had no right to do what he had done, just as he had no right to wrap his arms around her waist to draw comfort from her presence, but when she quietly moved to stand before him, he could not resist doing just that.

Darcy clung to her, burying his face in her spencer and the soft folds of her gown while she removed his hat and entwined her fingers through his curls. It had a soothing effect on him. He could not cease marveling at her generous capacity to continually overlook his offenses. How can she still be so tender and caring toward me? How can she even permit me to hold her after I have taken such liberties? If anyone had come upon them, Elizabeth’s reputation would have been in tatters; yet, here she was comforting him. He was overwhelmed.

“Fitzwilliam?” Her voice was soft and gentle, with no hint of admonishment in her tone, only concern.

Shaking his head, he said, “You have placed your trust in me, enough to offer yourself in such a way, and yet I have taken advantage of your generosity and tenderness in a manner that can only be described as completely reprehensible. I do not deserve you.”

Elizabeth recognized the self-loathing in his voice and stared at him for a moment in confusion. “Why would you think that? Surely, you must have noticed the pleasure I receive from your attentions?”

He remained silent.

She lowered herself to the ground and held his hands. “Fitzwilliam, look at me. Do you truly think I would not welcome such a natural progression of intimacy between us? If this is the case, I can assure you that you are mistaken. I welcome it, very much. If I did not, I would never encourage you to kiss me or permit you to take me in your arms as I do. You must know that.”

He sighed before saying, “Yes. I do. I also know you would never have allowed the liberties I have taken in the first place if you did not feel some degree of tenderness for me. It is just that the regard I know you now have for me is not yet equal to the strength of my feelings for you. I do not wish to ask too much of you, Elizabeth. I would never be able to live with myself if my…affections for you were to drive you away from me. I cannot tell you how much I fear losing you, losing what I have found with you.” His voice was suddenly hoarse. “You know not how much I—”

“Shh, dearest, shh,” she said as she stroked a curl from his brow, “there is no need to think of such things.”

Needing very much to feel her reassurance, Darcy pulled her onto his lap, and they held each other in silence for some time before he finally allowed himself to voice a concern that had been tormenting him since the previous evening. “Elizabeth, you must promise me you will not allow your mother to persuade you to marry that… man. I could not bear it.”

She could not help but laugh. “By ‘that man,’ I suppose you refer to my cousin, sir? No”—she smiled—“have no worries on that account. Heaven forbid, even if I were to be found with Mr. Collins in a compromising situation, and the chance of that is practically nonexistent, I can safely promise you I would never consent to marry him.”

“And what if you were found in a compromising situation with me?” he asked softly and with complete seriousness. “Would you continue to refuse me, as well? Or might I be successful by employing some particular manner of persuasion that might entice you to accept me?”

“I believe, Fitzwilliam,” she said with an impish smile as she caressed his jaw, “that in a matter of only a few weeks, you have already had far more success on that score than my poor cousin could ever hope for in the course of his entire life!”

Darcy’s eyes flared. “Truly?”

She bowed her head and looked up at him through her lashes. “Truly. But I believe I am not yet prepared to formalize more than a courtship between us at this time. I hope you understand and are not terribly discouraged. You see, sir, I have only just now come to learn I do not enjoy being the cause of any disappointment to you.”

He traced her cheek with his finger as his eyes devoured her. “Then why do you continue to refuse me the one thing that would most assuredly not disappoint me?”

She raised her brow in admonishment.

“Forgive me,” he said. “I should not have asked it. Of course, I would never wish for you to consent to anything I ask of you before you are ready to do so with your whole heart.”

“I know, and I thank you,” she whispered as she leaned in to kiss him with warmth and feeling.If I cannot yet agree to say what I know will make him happy, at least I can show him how much happiness he brings to me.

*   *   *

Not until some time later, Darcy and Elizabeth managed to find their way back to Longbourn, where they were met at the end of the walkway by Mrs. Bennet, her nerves in an obvious dither.

“Good gracious! Mr. Darcy, you are certainly out early this morning. And how kind of you to condescend to escort such an impertinent, headstrong girl home from her wild ramblings about the countryside. You are very welcome to breakfast, sir, for we are all just sitting down now, but I am afraid Lizzy will be prevented from joining us. Mr. Collins has something very particular he wishes to speak to her about.” She snatched Elizabeth away before either could raise any objection, and propelled her into the house.

Darcy was horrified. Good, God! It can only mean my aunt’s half-witted parson intends to propose to her! He experienced a sudden, desperate urge to run after Elizabeth and tear her away from her mother’s grasp, to put her upon the back of his horse and carry her off to London without delay, where he would marry her immediately. The scandal that would surely follow them would demand they marry in any case. Knowing, however, that Elizabeth would be displeased by his taking such a rash measure, he swallowed hard, passed his hand over his eyes, and considered his other options. Darcy was forced to admit that, other than publicly declaring the very particular manner in which he had just compromised her in the middle of the field, he was left with very little else but to present his suit and try his luck at reasoning with Mr. Bennet.

Squaring his shoulders, Darcy strode into the house, and seeing no one else about, he knocked upon the door to Mr. Bennet’s sanctuary. He heard a faint, “Enter,” issued from within the confines of the library, and breathed a sigh of relief before pushing open the door, hoping to find the elder gentleman alone.

“Ah, yes. Mr. Darcy. I have been expecting you, sir. Come in, come in. It is early yet for anything stronger than coffee, but I will not discourage you if, under the circumstances, you are feeling so inclined.” Mr. Bennet’s mouth was turned up in a wry smile, not unlike the one he had often seen upon Elizabeth’s pert lips, Darcy observed.

“Thank you, no, sir.”

“Very well. Let us get to it, then,” he said as he leaned back in his chair. “Am I correct in supposing you have