“Yes,” she whispered, as his fingers traced lines of fire along her sides, and she knew that, had he asked her at that moment to marry him, she would have agreed to that as well.
Darcy, intoxicated by the feel of her, the taste of her, and most of all by her response that was passionate beyond all his hopes, was risking losing himself in her as he had done so often in his dreams, but knew not how to stop himself from slaking his incredible thirst for her. He tried to focus on the thought of her anger at his behavior that was sure to follow, but as she pressed herself against him and sought more of his kisses, he lost all ability to care for anything beyond the moment.
Elizabeth felt equally lost, but as his lips traveled from hers down to the nape of her neck, where they wrought complete havoc on any remaining self-control that she might have, she opened her eyes for a moment and found herself looking through the window straight into the shocked face of Caroline Bingley.
Her gasp of horror and sudden stiffening caught Darcy’s attention even before she managed to speak his name, and he looked up, fearing to find that she was angry with his attentions. Only someone who knew him well would have recognized the slight shift in his face from desire to quiet fury when he met the eyes of the source of her distress, or recognized that he was acting on that anger when he followed the course of action that he knew would upset the interloper more than anything else, which was to resume scattering kisses across Elizabeth’s face and neck.
As Miss Bingley turned her back with an obvious sneer and walked off, Elizabeth pulled away from him and covered her hands over her face. When word of this reached Longbourn, her father would have no mercy; she would find herself married to Darcy before the end of the week. She should return home right away, and try to control the damage with a confession before the news arrived. But such an outcome would be the last thing that Miss Bingley would desire. No, she would keep her peace about what she had seen in order to keep her own options with Darcy open, rather than risk forcing him into a marriage with Elizabeth.
“I suppose that I should say thank heaven that was Caroline Bingley,” she said shakily, struggling to regain her equanimity. “She is the one person who has more to lose than we do if word of our behavior were to spread, so in this circumstance, there is no one on whom I would rather depend.”
Darcy gave a somewhat ragged laugh. “Do you know, I do not believe that I have ever heard anyone say that of her before.”
The shock and fear had initially driven all feelings of desire from Elizabeth, but as she looked at Darcy, she wished to be back in his arms. “We should find Georgiana,” she said determinedly.
“Perhaps so,” he acknowledged, reminding himself that it was a success that she did not appear angry with him. He unlocked the door and held it open for her, and as she walked past, he caught her by one hand and kissed her lightly, looking for some kind of reassurance. He was relieved to see that she smiled in return, albeit worriedly.
Darcy spent a long night alternately lost in recollections of how it felt to have Elizabeth in his arms, and worrying how she might react to what had occurred between them. There had been no further opportunity for them to speak privately, and although she had seemed calm enough, during dinner she seemed to become more withdrawn. When he walked her out to the carriage, she did not meet his eyes, although she was perfectly pleasant to him. Yet again he cursed his difficulty in ascertaining her feelings.
He resolved to call on her the next morning. She did not want any attention drawn to the time he spent with her, but he could not bear worrying about it for another day. Accordingly, he found Bingley before he managed to steal off to Longbourn, and engaged his cooperation to help him have a few minutes alone with Elizabeth.
The plan went smoothly; although Elizabeth seemed surprised to see him, she readily agreed to walk out with Jane, Bingley, and him, and Bingley was only too happy to take care that he and Jane lagged well behind the other two, and eventually struck off on a different path. Darcy lost no time in taking Elizabeth’s hand and drawing her to his side as they walked, and he smiled at her with a warm look.
She acknowledged him with a restrained smile of her own, but seemed disinclined to make conversation, leading Darcy to believe she was disturbed by the events of the previous evening. He debated how to begin, and finally said, “I owe you an apology for my behavior yesterday.”
Elizabeth colored. “I would prefer not to speak of it, sir.” Indeed, she had spent much of the previous night chastising herself for her failure to stop his advances and worrying about possible complications. She still agreed with her initial assessment that Miss Bingley would likely not expose them for her own reasons, but it had occurred to her that Miss Bingley was capable of seeking revenge in other ways. She was concerned how Darcy might have reacted to her shameless behavior. Would it not reinforce his concerns about the inappropriate conduct of members of the Bennet family?
Darcy was at a loss. How was he to beg her forgiveness if she would not hear his apology? “I have no desire to cause you any distress, so I shall say only that I would far rather hear your chastisement than have this come between us.”
“I am in no position to chastise anyone,” she replied in a low voice.
He looked at her sharply, then stopped and took her by both hands. “Are you concerned that
She forced herself to look him in the eye. “My behavior was far from irreproachable.”
With a wordless exclamation he put his arms around her and held her tightly. “My dearest, when you give a man exactly what he has been longing to receive for many months, the last thing that would occur to him is to reproach you for your behavior!”
His endearment and apparent assumption of an understanding between them was more than she could manage after a mostly sleepless night, and she found tears coming to her eyes. The harder she tried to suppress them, the more they threatened to overflow—
Darcy, who was quite enjoying holding Elizabeth in his arms, did not immediately realize she was in tears, and then experienced a moment of panic not dissimilar to what he had felt recently with Georgiana. He should somehow understand what was upsetting her, but had no idea what was the matter, having thought he just reassured her. Clearly it was his fault in some way, and his guilt for causing her distress was great. Unsure as to the best course of action, he tried to comfort her by whispering endearments in her ear and holding her close to him, which unbeknownst to him had the unfortunate effect of fueling the fire of her distress. If only she would share her feelings with him! “My sweetest, please tell me what is troubling you,” he pleaded.
Elizabeth was attempting desperately to think of nothing beyond that he was comforting her. She could never say what was disturbing her without hurting him deeply—how could she tell him how much against her better judgment her attraction to him was? Once she stopped crying, she would need to tell him to cease referring to her in the affectionate manner that he was using. Exhausted with both her constant inner struggle against her feelings for him and the more outward struggle not to accede to the liberties he tried to take, she wanted nothing more than to give up the battle and agree to be his simply to conclude the matter, but she knew full well how quickly she would come to rue such a cowardly decision. Finally she calmed herself enough to respond. “I am simply not ready for this.”
Darcy thought carefully before replying. He could not afford a misunderstanding now. “If I take your meaning correctly, this is happening too quickly for you. Is that it?”
She nodded, her face still buried in his chest.
He kissed her hair, savoring the softness and the sweet scent of roses in it. “We can go more slowly, then; we have all the time in the world before us. I will not rush you.”
She could not help laughing through her tears at his words. “Mr. Darcy, I do not mean to suggest that you are not a man of your word, but I strongly advise that you refrain from promising the impossible. I am afraid that I do not believe you constitutionally capable of not rushing me.”
Her characterization forced a smile from him. “There is perhaps some truth to that. Perhaps I should promise instead to do my best not to rush you, and to listen when you tell me otherwise.”
“That is more credible, sir.” As she calmed herself, she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of resting her head against him and the comfort of his arms around her.
This lasted only a brief time, though, as Darcy, while far from wishing to give up his current desirable position, was cognizant that he had just agreed to slow down his demands, and forced himself to release her. He
