To Conquer Mr. Darcy

She nestled in even closer to him. “Whatever you wish, William. You may decide.”

He paused, not knowing what to think of this sudden submissiveness, but he was willing to take advantage of it. “Then I will speak to your uncle in the morning, and we will marry as soon as we may.”

She smiled affectionately at him. “Very well,” she said softly. Closing her eyes, she relaxed into his embrace.

He watched her with pleasure, thinking of how many of his dreams had been fulfilled tonight, and how he would not trade this night for anything in the world. Soon he noted that her breathing had slowed, and a wave of tenderness rushed over him when he realized that she had fallen asleep in his arms. It was far too pleasant an experience to end quickly, although he would have to wake her soon in order to return her safely to her own room before anyone could discover them.

The next thing he knew he was being roused from a sound sleep by a knocking at the door. Momentarily he was disoriented, wondering why Wilkins did not come in to wake him as usual. Awareness of the warmth of Elizabeth’s body against his brought memories came flooding back, and panic struck at the idea of her being found in his room. Leaping out of bed, he pulled the curtains around the bed to disguise her presence. “I am coming!” he called, seizing his dressing gown and tying it around himself. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped through to his sitting room, where he found a flustered looking Wilkins.

“Sir, I am sorry to disturb you, but there is a problem. There is a fire at the Wheelers’ cottage; there is some fear of it spreading, and Mr. Dawson is asking for you.”

Darcy swore under his breath, raking his hand through his hair as he tried to think. “Very well, I shall come as soon as I am dressed. Are they saddling a horse for me?”

“Yes, sir,” he said, not meeting Darcy’s eyes.

Darcy had never seen his valet look this ill at ease before, and suddenly realized Wilkins must have come into his bedroom as was his custom, and discovered Elizabeth’s presence, hence his retreat to the sitting room. Well, there was nothing to be done for it now. “Wait here,” he instructed tersely.

Turning back into his bedroom and closing the door behind him, he went over to the bed and sat down. Elizabeth’s eyes were open wide, whether in distress or surprise he could not tell. He leaned over to kiss her. “I must leave, my love. There is an emergency, a fire on the estate, and I must go at once. I am so very sorry to leave you right now; I know that the timing could not be worse.”

Feeling suddenly shy as she realized her state of undress, she said, “Of course, I understand.”

Recognizing her embarrassment, he took her nightgown and robe from where they had fallen and handed them to her. “I will return in a minute,” he said, heading for his dressing room. He emerged shortly wearing a workman-like outfit of shirt and trousers. She was already out of bed, as decent as she could make herself, and he took her into his arms. “I am so very sorry to leave you like this, Elizabeth. My man Wilkins is without, and I will ask him to assist you in returning to your room. He already knows you are here, and he is the soul of discretion.” Seeing her blush furiously, he added, “Not to worry, he approves of you. Please remember that I love you more than life itself.” He stole one last kiss.

“Please be careful.” She touched his cheek.

“I will,” he replied, and departed.

Elizabeth kept on a brave face until he was out of the room, and then sank back onto the bed, her head in her hands. Her sangfroid of the previous night had completely evaporated, and shock, horror, and embarrassment had taken its place. What had she done? She felt ashamed and ill at the thought of what had occurred. How could she have allowed this to happen? How could she step out of that door and face Darcy’s manservant, knowing that he knew what had transpired that night? She had never been so mortified in her life. A flush of humiliation filled her, but recognizing that she needed to be out of his bedroom as soon as possible, before anyone else discovered her, she resolutely went to the door and opened it.

The ever-efficient Wilkins stood outside, his eyes firmly averted. “Miss Bennet, I took the liberty of fetching some items from your room. I cannot claim any expertise in the matter of ladies’ dress, but I hope this is satisfactory. If there is anything else you require, please do not hesitate to ask.” He handed her a stack of items that included a dress, petticoats, shoes, stockings, and a hairbrush.

“Thank you, Wilkins,” she said shakily. Retreating into the chamber, she dressed herself as well as she could. She looped her hair into a simple knot at the back, thinking with the ghost of an amused smile that Wilkins would never succeed as a lady’s maid unless he remembered hairpins.

Darcy had not been completely correct in stating that Wilkins approved of Elizabeth, although he no doubt believed it himself. Wilkins in fact had no opinion of her. He had little direct contact with Miss Bennet up until this time, though he knew who she was, of course, and had carefully noted all available information about her. He was a man of powerful loyalty and deep admiration for his employer, and he saw his job as one of simplifying and improving Mr. Darcy’s life. He had strong opinions on the clothes Mr. Darcy wore, the rooms Mr. Darcy stayed in, and the food Mr. Darcy ate. He withheld judgment on his master’s friends and activities; if they made Mr. Darcy happy, Wilkins approved, if not, he did not. He did not see a need to have an opinion on the air Mr. Darcy breathed, for it was simply a necessity, and having observed his master closely during the last year in Hertfordshire, London, and Kent, he had come to the conclusion that this was the category in which Miss Elizabeth Bennet belonged. Mr. Darcy was happy when he was with her, and deeply unhappy when he was not, so there was no need for Wilkins to develop an opinion on her. She was simply necessary.

He was, however, pleased to see that she could conduct herself with appropriate dignity in the embarrassing situation in which she found herself, and he even went so far as to have a few unkind thoughts for Mr. Darcy regarding the position in which he had put her. When she emerged from Darcy’s room, he asked her to wait in the sitting room until he indicated to her that the hallway was clear, and when he was finally able to usher her out safely, she gave him an amused, if somewhat embarrassed, smile with her thanks. Having successfully negotiated that task, his next goal was to find fresh linens for the beds, so that he could strip off the current sheets before the arrival of the housemaids, lest any gossip follow Mr. Darcy. He shook his head over the whole matter.

Elizabeth returned to her room only long enough to correct the details of her dress and to put up her hair. The last thing that she wanted at the moment was to sit alone with her thoughts, and sleep would be a hopeless proposition, and so she went downstairs even though it was far too early for breakfast. Although servants were busy throughout the house, none of the family were yet awake, so she elected for a brisk walk through the gardens to distract herself. Unfortunately, the slight soreness between her legs proved a constant reminder of the events of the night, as were the words that insisted on echoing in her mind, no matter how much she tried to stop them—I am his mistress. The words would not listen to any of her arguments that they were engaged, that this made no difference in the long term, that no one need know. She brooded over how they were to explain to her aunt and uncle why they wished to marry so quickly, with none of her family present, and she discovered no convincing answers.

Eight

At breakfast, Mr. Gardiner informed her that Darcy would be unable to join them on their trip to Haddon Hall that day, as some urgent estate business had arisen. Elizabeth did her best to appear surprised and disappointed by this intelligence, and thought she had been fairly convincing. As the day progressed, however, it became apparent that Mrs. Gardiner at least had noticed she was somewhat out of spirits, asking several times if anything was troubling her, questions that her niece attempted to avoid by making reference to a sleepless night. Meanwhile, Elizabeth was busy trying to answer her own uncomfortable questions, which related to how this had come to pass, and her feelings about her premature loss of virtue. His mistress. That she was embarrassed and discomfited was obvious, and that she felt shame over her inability to refuse him was true as well, but she tried to remind herself that they had merely advanced the date of the event, and wondered why it should make such a difference to her. The truth, she finally recognized, was that she missed Darcy terribly. If she could only have been with him and had his reassurance, her distress would be significantly lessened.

On their return to Pemberley, she was exceedingly disappointed to find that he was still away from the house, and the servants seemed to have no news of him, apart from saying that he was expected to return in time