To Conquer Mr. Darcy

touched her. Her lips parted as his hand gently cupped her cheek, a touch that reawakened the intoxicating feelings he had created in her, and she closed her eyes to savor the delightful sensation of his mouth meeting hers.

Darcy allowed himself to take his time with this kiss, tasting the pleasures of her lips, and, as he felt her unmistakable response, permitted a tiny fraction of the urgency he felt to express itself as he deepened the kiss.

Elizabeth had never suspected that such physical awareness could exist. The sensation of his kiss enveloped her, and she was achingly conscious that she wanted his arms around her, even as she acknowledged that she should not be permitting even this much in the first place. It took all her determination to keep herself from embracing him and pulling him closer. After what seemed far too short a time, he drew back, his breathing was ragged and his eyes dark with passion, and she suspected that she looked no different.

Darcy’s struggle to master himself was at least as profound, but perhaps less obvious due to the extent of his practice at subduing his feelings for her. Elated that she had not only allowed him to kiss her, but had responded as well, it was all he could do not to renew his proposals immediately. He knew that it was too soon, and the expression crossing Elizabeth’s face confirmed it. Instead of the look of warmth or affection he had hoped for, he saw her biting her lip and looking away.

Why? he demanded silently. She had wanted him to kiss her, he would have wagered a great deal that she had enjoyed his kisses, and she knew that his intentions were honorable, so why was she distressed? Could her dislike of him still be so intense, but if so, why would she have allowed him to take liberties with her? Were all the hopeful signs he had observed merely a figment of his desire to see them? She had never met any of his advances with clear evidence of pleasure, it was true, but recently, there had been some shy smiles when he caressed her hand, and once she had even actively slipped her hand into his in the curricle. He shook his head over the pathetic desperation of his thoughts, and stepped completely away from her, no longer able to tolerate seeing her distress.

Elizabeth wrapped her arms around herself as if she felt a chill, and with determination began to walk once more at a brisk pace, as if trying to escape from herself. Darcy fell in beside her silently, reassured that she was continuing on their journey, rather than insisting on returning. Now if only she would not look as if she were on her way to the gallows.

He tried to counsel himself to patience. He need not win her affection immediately, and she had made it clear that she preferred him to go slowly. Soon she would be leaving on her travels, and as long as the terms they parted on were warm, she would welcome seeing him again after her return. It would be a long wait. Georgiana had already indicated to him that she would prefer not to stay at Netherfield once Elizabeth was gone; the company of Bingley’s sisters had as little appeal for her as for him. London would provide some distraction while they waited, perhaps, or they could even go to Pemberley. It was a long journey for that length of time, but then again, they need not return immediately, and it would raise suspicions if he timed his absence to coincide exactly with hers. It would be near the time of Bingley’s wedding by then, and surely Elizabeth would be feeling pleased and happy about that event, and perhaps more welcoming to his suit.

He stopped in mid-stride as an excruciating thought lanced through him. Could the signs he had taken as warming of her regard instead be gratitude? Jane’s happiness mattered so much to her; could she be rewarding his role in returning Bingley to Hertfordshire with the only currency she had? Did she see herself as purchasing her sister’s happiness at the cost of her own? The thought was unbearable; he would rather never lay eyes on her again than take her at that price. Somehow he forced himself to keep walking.

He would have to leave. There was no possible way to live with the pain of seeing her if it was true; it was already a constant struggle not to take her in his arms. He would have to admit that the dream was ended. Yes, Pemberley, he would go to Pemberley and never again set foot in Hertfordshire, but even as he thought it he knew he would not be able to stay away for long.

When Elizabeth finally felt mistress of herself again enough to glance at him, she saw the disturbance of his mind visible in every feature, and his face set in the grim lines she had only seen once before, when she accused him at Hunsford of destroying Wickham’s future. What had he to be distressed about? He had got what he wanted, after all; she was the one with the right to feel upset about what had happened. His assumption of her compliance reminded her of his proposal at Hunsford, and how he made his offer with the perfect conviction that she would accept him without question. Was it in fact any different now, apart from his going through the motions of courtship? He seemed to assume, at least until proven otherwise, that she would accept his caresses, his kisses, his familiarity—and no doubt his hand in marriage, in good time. And she had allowed it, one step at a time, allowed him liberties she had never expected to give anyone but her husband, and was beginning against her will to allow him inroads into her heart as well. He had changed his outward manner and made his admiration of her overt, and she had fallen into his hand like ripe fruit.

And now he had the presumption to consider himself the injured party! Well, this was as good a time as any to make clear that she would not continue to tolerate his forwardness. For once, though, she recalled her history of losing her temper with him before knowing all the facts, and forced herself to review the situation one more time before she spoke. In all fairness, she had to admit that she was to some extent responsible by her compliance, and that he likely would have respected her wishes had she told him to stop. Also, he did not, as a rule, have fits of the sulks without reason, though as often as not that the reason existed only in his imagination. She was predisposed to being annoyed with him; at least it took her away from her own thoughts, but she had no wish to be unjust to him as she had in the past.

She stopped and turned to him, her arms crossed across her chest. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her impatience evident in her voice. “I have not the gift for leaping to the worst possible conclusion that you possess, so you perforce will have to explain to me whatever terrible possibility you have discovered this time.”

He looked at her in shock. He was quite unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, and he found his temper flaring. In an automatic effort to quell it, he said coolly, “Miss Bennet, I am afraid that the heat of the moment is leading you to flights of imagination.”

He was quite mistaken if he thought that this would intimidate her from continuing her stand. “I am waiting, Mr. Darcy. I have no intention of walking all the way to Gadebridge Hill with whatever black beast you are carrying with you.”

His complexion became pale with anger. “And what of your own black beast, Miss Bennet? If I am not mistaken, you are not best pleased yourself.”

Ever able to see the humor of the moment, Elizabeth found the corners of her mouth twitching. “Mine is naught but a small grey creature of the night, sir. My question stands.”

Darcy came to the disturbing realization that he did not understand the rules of this sort of skirmish where honesty was demanded, and anger was met with wit. He watched her through narrowed eyes for a minute, absentmindedly noting how bewitching she looked with her eyes flashing in anger. “The thought had crossed my mind that you might be tolerating my attentions out of some mistaken sense of gratitude.”

Her eyes widened. “That is, indeed, an impressively far-fetched conclusion. I believe, in fact, that I am insulted.”

“Oddly enough, I am happy to hear that, although I had no intent to offend you.”

Her gaze continued to clash with his for a moment, but Elizabeth found it difficult not to soften when she saw the obvious relief that he felt, and, as they managed to smile at each other, decided that just now she did not want to think any more about what had happened, but merely to enjoy his company and the beautiful day. Recalling his gesture after their conflict on the day of Jane’s engagement, she held out her hand to him.

Although his face showed only a warming of his gaze, Darcy rejoiced at the step she had taken. Taking her hand, he drew her to his side, then raised it to his lips.

Elizabeth colored slightly. “I daresay that your sister will be disappointed if you are unable to tell her of the view from Gadebridge Hill.”

Not to mention that if we stand here any longer, I will end up kissing you again, and then we will be right back where we started, he thought, as they set off hand in hand. “She will be more disappointed when she realizes that this is likely our last opportunity to walk out before the arrival of Miss Bingley and the Hursts. I fear that it may not be the same afterwards.”

“Perhaps if we select particularly muddy and long walks, we can fend them off, and it will not be so bad,”