To Conquer Mr. Darcy

Three

The next fine day found Elizabeth en route to Netherfield, the arrangement having been made that she would call on Miss Darcy and take the opportunity to show her some of the natural beauties of the area. Bingley was a daily visitor at Longbourn by this time, coming frequently before breakfast, and always remaining till after supper, but Darcy, having gracefully, if not entirely happily, accepted Elizabeth’s hint that she would prefer that he not be in such constant attendance, restricted himself to the occasional visit to Longbourn. Thus, it was not surprising to Elizabeth that he would choose to accompany his sister on their walk, nor was it completely unwelcome, as she had concluded it was best for them to spend time together in company rather than alone. The occasion was a generally successful one; though Miss Darcy was not as great a walker as either of her companions, she delighted in the company, and her brother tended to appear in his best light when accompanied by his sister.

Elizabeth was pleased to find that she enjoyed the time sufficiently to be willing to accept an invitation to dine with them, though she had trepidation regarding her departure, correctly suspecting that Mr. Darcy had some plans for that juncture. She was not surprised when he offered to drive her home in the curricle again, nor when he took her hand in his before they were even out of the drive at Netherfield, and his aspect changed from amiable gentleman and brother to that of the lover. She was able to accept his attentions with at least an external composure, and if internally her confusion remained great, at least her response was no longer as surprising as it had been at first.

This became a pattern as time went on, that every few days she would spend time with the two Darcys, usually walking or occasionally driving through the countryside, and then allow Mr. Darcy to claim his due on the road back to Longbourn. She could not explain why it was, but gradually anticipation began to replace her initial dread of the time alone with him. She grew to find more pleasure in the sensations his looks and the touch of his hand produced, once she saw that he asked nothing further of her on those drives, but her confusion continued regarding her feelings toward him. Her opinion of him had improved, but she still had a number of reservations about him. Although he continued in his civility toward her family, when they were in greater company, he became again the reserved and taciturn man she had known in the past; and although he no longer refused to converse when others approached him, he did not seek out these encounters. He could still be high-handed, and she found herself sometimes resentful of the assumptions he seemed to make about her availability to him. And while she appreciated his role in bringing Bingley and Jane back together, she still could not bring herself to forgive him fully for engineering their separation in the first place.

She felt fortunate that no one apart from Bingley, Jane, and perhaps Georgiana seemed to have realized his interest in her. Meryton society had seen no reason to reassess what was generally known as her dislike of him. The pleasant thought that the wealthy Mr. Darcy might have taken a liking to Elizabeth had crossed Mrs. Bennet’s mind on occasion, but Elizabeth was able to divert her with misleading comments about her friendship with Miss Darcy and reminders that she was not handsome enough to tempt Mr. Darcy, and so her mother’s fancies had instead turned to whether Miss Darcy could put Elizabeth in the way of any wealthy and eligible young men. On occasion she observed her father watching Darcy with a quizzical look, but if he had any suspicions in that direction, he kept them to himself.

Only a fortnight remained until her departure for Derbyshire when she went to Netherfield only to find Miss Darcy in bed complaining of a headache. After exchanging a few words with her friend, Georgiana admitted that she was not feeling well enough to enjoy company, but insisted that Elizabeth and Darcy continue with their plans of walking to Gadebridge Hill, an idea that clearly pleased Darcy, and Elizabeth could think of no real objection.

It was clear as they set out that Darcy was making every effort to observe decorum, to the point where he was failing to respond to some of Elizabeth’s teasing, and her spirits were such that she could not resist a few barbed comments about his dignity.

“Personally, I do not associate an excess of dignity with brisk walks through the countryside,” he said.

“Well, we shall see how you do when we encounter a muddy path or a recalcitrant cow, Mr. Darcy.”

“I am aware that mud would not stop you, but how would you handle the recalcitrant cow?”

Elizabeth laughed. “Do you doubt, sir, that I cannot be even more recalcitrant than a cow when I set my mind to it?”

“No gentleman would dream of attempting an answer to such a question, Miss Bennet. I shall instead limit myself to pointing out that you seem to be maintaining a certain level of dignity as well.”

“True, but only because I am, for your benefit, being far more proper and dignified than I should be were I walking by myself,” she said archly.

“Indeed, and what improper and undignified behavior would you be indulging in were you by yourself, Miss Bennet?”

She eyed him calculatingly, perfectly willing to see how much she could shock him. “Sometimes I like to run. It can be quite exhilarating.”

His eyes widened slightly in surprise, but he mastered it well. “Far be it from me to keep you from any of your pleasures, Miss Bennet. Please feel free to run, if you so desire.”

She judged he did not believe she would take up his challenge. If so, he underestimated her willingness to test him. With a teasing smile, she gathered up her skirts and set off at a fast run. She ran farther than she would usually have done to press the point, and eventually, on reaching the ruins of an old cottage, collapsed back against one of the standing walls, laughing and quite out of breath. Darcy appeared a moment later, and leaned an arm against the wall next to her.

Could she have seen the picture she presented, lips parted, eyes sparkling and cheeks becomingly flushed from the exercise, she might have understood better where the look in his eyes came from, but knowing only that her shocking behavior was leading him to the very thoughts she had hoped he would repress, she said in a lively manner, “Mr. Darcy, you are a difficult man to discourage!”

“Have you only just realized that?” He lightly ran a finger down her cheek, creating an exquisite sensation that left her even more breathless. “Surely you must know by now that I will do whatever I must.” Elizabeth felt caught by the look in his eyes as he slowly bent his head towards hers until his lips gently caressed her own.

The unexpected shock of pleasure that ran through her astonished Elizabeth even more than the fact that she had not stopped him, nay, had not even wanted to stop him. What was happening to her, that she could not refuse that look in his dark eyes?

He drew back, a slight smile curving his lips, his eyes still fixed on hers. She was hesitant to meet his gaze while still moved by his kiss, but he would have none of it and tipped her chin up with his finger until she looked directly at him. Her heart pounded at his look of inquiry, and she wished she could give him the love he wanted, but enjoying his kiss was not the same as loving him. It ought to have been the loving that came first. She had never considered that her first kiss might come from someone to whom she was not at the very least promised, and despite the pleasure of his kiss, she was not altogether happy that it had not come in that context. It troubled her deeply that her thoughts seemed to have no impact whatsoever on her treacherous desire for him to kiss her again.

She knew that she must respond to him, and that she must be gentle but firm. “I believe that most people would say that you must not do that,” she said, pleased to find that her voice did not tremble. She dropped her gaze again, not trusting her eyes not to betray her.

“There is only one opinion that matters to me,” he said, his voice barely stable. He had not meant to kiss her; he knew only too well that she would likely take offense, but the sight of her looking up at him, laughing and so alive, had been more than he could resist. But now it was even harder, for kissing her had only exposed the well of need he felt for her—need that had grown through the long winter of trying to forget her, and had overrun him in those black months after Kent when he believed she could never be his, need that could only be sated by Elizabeth Bennet. Kissing her, even so briefly and lightly, was delicious beyond belief; he responded to it like a starving man in a wasteland, and he was desperate for more.

Elizabeth knew that she should not remain so close to him, that she should remove temptation by moving out of reach, but her body would not obey her. In an effort to rein in her errant thoughts, she forced herself to think of all the painful moments in their history, all the times she had hated and resented him. She remembered her fury with him after his proposal, and it suddenly struck her as amusing that she could have traveled so quickly from that point to one where she was aching for his kisses.

Humor, as it had so often done in the past, lent her the distance she needed, and she was able to free herself from the spell of the moment. She looked up with a smile, and made the fatal mistake of meeting his eyes again. The look of raw need in them caused all of her resolve to fail, and her wish to resist him melted into nothingness.

In his heart, Darcy knew he should go no further, that she had warned him, but he found himself helpless to ignore the desire on her face. If he could not have her love, he would settle for the moment for having her want him. He said softly, “But since I do care about that one opinion, I shall warn you that if you do not want me to kiss you again, you should take this opportunity to tell me so.”

Elizabeth swallowed hard, searching desperately for the good sense that had deserted her the moment he 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,” Elizabeth suggested lightheartedly. “But that is easy for me to say; I do not have to stay in the same house with them. I must remember to rescue Georgiana when I can.”

“She will appreciate it; she is often quite overwhelmed by Miss Bingley. In fact, I may need to be rescued as well,” he teased.

“You, sir, are perfectly capable of handling Miss Bingley with no assistance from me,” she replied, surprised by how content she felt walking so closely to him.

“Just as well, since you intend to desert us to her mercies soon enough. When are you planning to leave for your travels?”

“My aunt and uncle will arrive Monday and we plan to depart the next day.”

“It seems you are quite fond of your aunt and uncle.”

“Yes, I enjoy their company a great deal.”

“I would like to meet them, if I may.”

She glanced up at him, wondering if he realized that her uncle was in trade—she could not recall mentioning it—and if he would be so anxious to meet them if he knew. “If you wish,” she said neutrally.

“I do not believe that you ever told me of your new destination. Do you know where you will go, apart from the wilds of the north?”

Elizabeth colored, knowing that it was impossible to avoid the question once it was asked directly. “My aunt and uncle are setting the itinerary, and I do not know the details. My aunt has mentioned the Peaks, Matlock and Dovedale, and I believe she also plans for us to see Blenheim and Chatsworth. We will also be spending some time in a town in which my aunt spent her younger days. I believe you may be familiar with it; it is called Lambton.”

That Darcy was startled by her response was clear, and she did not doubt that he realized that she had deliberately kept this information from him. “Yes, I know it well,” he said slowly, “it is not five miles from Pemberley.” His mind jumped ahead to further possibilities—She will be at Pemberley! He had dreamed so often about Elizabeth at Pemberley that he could picture her there without any effort—it was almost as if she were already in residence there, but the Elizabeth of Pemberley was the one who looked at him with passion in her eyes, who whispered words of love to him, who cried out his name as he made love to her in the great four-poster bed. The idea of bringing the real Elizabeth to Pemberley was enough to make his heart race.

She stole a glance at him, trying to gauge his response, but his expression was distant. She felt a sudden urge to apologize, though what she had to regret in traveling so near his home was not clear, but she was troubled by his apparent withdrawal. Well, she thought, I do not need his permission to enter Derbyshire; I may visit it with impunity if I choose.

She was determined to wait until he broke the silence, but as it went on and on, and she grew more and more uncomfortable to be walking hand in hand with a man who seemed to have forgotten her existence. Finally, she said, “Mr. Darcy, you appear to be miles away.” She did not desire any further conflict, so to remove any possible sting from her words, she tightened her hand around his for a moment.

He came back to himself from his reveries of having her by his side at Pemberley, of awakening in the morning with his hand tangled in her hair, of kissing her sleeping lips until she returned to consciousness with a passion that matched his own. He turned to the real Elizabeth with a rueful smile. “You are absolutely correct, Miss Bennet; my mind was far away in Derbyshire. My apologies for neglecting you.”

“And was your mind’s visit to Derbyshire fruitful?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at him, just as he had so often pictured.

Bending his arm, he brought her hand to his lips in a casual manner, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “That remains to be seen, my love,” he said.

“Mr. Darcy!” she said with indignation, ignoring an odd sensation deep inside her. “That is quite enough, I believe!”

He looked at her in startled dismay. “What is the matter?”

“What is the matter? Mr. Darcy, if I have in some way led you to believe that I am willing to accept this level of familiarity, I do apologize, as it was not my intention to mislead you,” she said vigorously, determined not to continue in the passive course she had set to date.

He released her hand immediately, his expression baffled and worried. “Miss Bennet, I deeply regret offending you in any way; it is my sole wish to please you, and I will certainly refrain from any behavior to which you object. I…” He tried desperately to think of further ways to apologize before he lost all the ground he had gained, and then, recognizing that honesty was his only hope, said more calmly, “I cannot say that I completely understand, but if you do not wish me to kiss your hand, you may depend on it that I shall not.”

She was quite surprised that he did not realize that his words were objectionable; in many ways it seemed more atypical of him to violate a social rule than to take liberties. “Mr. Darcy, my objection was to the overly familiar manner in which you referred to me,” she said tiredly.

Darcy, taken aback, immediately began to review the conversation in his mind, and then paled abruptly as he realized what he had said. “Miss Bennet, I apologize, indeed, I ought to grovel at your feet; you are quite correct to upbraid me. It was a complete slip of the tongue; my mind was elsewhere, and I did not realize at all what I was saying. I do know better than that, and I would certainly not have intentionally have embarrassed either of us in that manner, and…”

“That is quite an adequate amount of groveling,” Elizabeth interrupted with a smile, relieved by his obviously genuine embarrassment and regret. “I accept your apology, and shall not think on the matter again.”

Darcy kept his eyes fixed directly ahead of him. This was not going well at all; every effort he made seemed to lead to disaster. It would be a miracle if she was still willing to speak to him at the end of the day. Perhaps he should revert to his safer, old patterns and hold his tongue as much as possible to avoid making a fool of himself again—but no, she would think him uncivil in that case. He certainly needed to control his fantasies of her.

Elizabeth, seeing his struggle, decided to take mercy on him. “Mr. Darcy,” she said with laughter in his voice, “I fear that you are once again honing your skills at leaping to conclusions, and I must insist that you cease at once, and instead acknowledge that I am far too reasonable and pleasant a person to possibly dream up the sort of horrors you are capable of imagining.”

His lips twitched. “Are you laughing at me, Miss Bennet?”

“I would be sorely distressed if I could find no source of humor in you, sir,” she replied lightly. “And we are approaching our destination, and I hope we can remain friends long enough to climb the hill, so that we may save our breath for our exertions.”

Darcy tried to match her light-hearted tones with fair success, and they were able to proceed in accord with one another as they tackled the ascent of the hill. Darcy took full advantage of the roughness of the path to have the pleasure of helping Elizabeth past obstacles, and by the time they reached the summit, his good humor was restored.

Darcy invited her to sit on a flat stone that afforded a view of the countryside. She pointed out various towns and holdings as they sat side by side, Darcy taking pleasure in holding Elizabeth’s hand between his own and caressing it lightly from time to time. Elizabeth, feeling a combination of a warm contentment and an agitated excitement induced by his closeness and the remarkable sensations he seemed able to produce through his lightest touch of her hand, said, “Tell me something about yourself, something that I do not know.”

“What shall I tell you about?”

“Whatever you like. Perhaps you could tell me about growing up at Pemberley.”

He laughed. “Not Pemberley, please, or I will start having ideas you will object to again.”

Puzzled, she said, “Because of Pemberley?”

“I have an excellent imagination, Miss Bennet, and I recommend we change the subject immediately.”

Still mystified, she said, “As you wish. What shall it be, then? Tell me about going to university. Is that a safer topic?”

“Let me see, what can I tell you? I studied at Cambridge, and there were good times and bad. I missed home and my family intensely at first, since it was my first time away since I had attended the first year at Harrow, about which the less said, the better. After that I had tutors at home, since my mother, once she became ill, was reluctant to have me so far away, and I supported her in that for my own selfish reasons. Once I became accustomed to being at Cambridge, though, my studies were fascinating for the most part, and I could think of nothing better than being expected to read all day long. Some other aspects of university life were a challenge given how reserved I can be. I could not enjoy most aspects of undergraduate social life, the fashionable set and the parties. I kept to myself until I found some activities that suited me better. I made several close friends then, men whose company was more congenial to me, and we have remained friends over the years since then.”

“Which were the activities that suited you?”

He smiled in recollection. “I became a devotee of fencing, a practice I still continue when I am able, and which is well suited to me because I am not expected to talk while I am fencing. I also improved my expertise at billiards as well, for much the same reason, a fact that Bingley still has cause to regret.”

“You make yourself sound quite misanthropic!”

“Hardly that; I enjoyed the company of those I knew well and trusted, but I had not yet learned to overcome my native shyness. I was much like Georgiana is now, which is why I do not like to force her to socialize, and instead encourage her to find friends in a way that is more tolerable to her. I cannot imagine that she will ever feel any more comfort or enjoyment than do I at balls and assemblies.”

Elizabeth struggled to digest this information; of the many descriptions she could apply to Mr. Darcy, ‘shy’ had never once crossed her mind, yet he seemed earnest and straightforward. She decided that she would need to consider this revelation further when she had more leisure to reflect on it. “Georgiana is fortunate to have such an understanding guardian, then.”

“Perhaps she is, but I am aware that I might be doing her a disservice in not forcing her to learn to cope with her shyness. I wonder sometimes if my protection makes her shyness worse.”

She smiled up at him, and impulsively laid her head against his shoulder. “You worry a great deal, it seems.”

Darcy forgot to breathe in the rush of pleasure that her affectionate gesture gave him, and wished that he could hold onto this moment forever. He longed to reciprocate, to pull her closer and to bury his face in her hair, but for once he remembered the need to subdue his own desires, that the most effective encouragement he could give her was not to frighten her away. The desire to touch her was more than he could completely suppress, however, and he found himself turning her hand in his so that he could stroke the soft skin of the inside of her fingers and her palm. As he bent his head slightly to observe it better, one of her curls brushed gently against his face with a sensation that left him achingly conscious of his need for her.

His response to her action had overwhelmed his attention to their conversation, and it was only with effort that he was able to recollect what she had been saying. “I admit that worrying is one of my failings. Does it come as a surprise to you, then?” He congratulated himself on having constructed an articulate sentence under these circumstances.

A smile crossed her lips. “I confess that I was beginning to catch an intimation of it, sir.” Ironically, she was at that point doing an excellent job of worrying herself, wondering what capricious impulse had prompted her to lay her head against him, at a time when she knew full well that she should be avoiding even the appearance of encouraging him. How could she blame him for presuming too much when she persisted in behaving as if she wished for and encouraged his advances? He had caught her off-guard by expressing his insecurities about his behavior, so different from his usual aggravating high-handedness, but there was no excuse for her improper behavior.

It was past time for her to admit that her physical reaction to Darcy’s company had gone beyond her control, a thought that both frightened and appalled her, since it went against her longstanding belief in her own ability to restrain herself. Yet it could not be denied; so small a cause as his caresses of her palm created such an ache inside her that she knew that, were he to try to kiss her again, she would put up no resistance, and would against her will welcome his touch. The realization that she was at risk of permitting sufficient liberties to feel obliged to marry was sufficiently alarming to override the temptation to continue to enjoy his attentions.

Without any outward sign of her distress, Elizabeth suggested it was time for them to return to Netherfield, and Darcy, though quite reluctant to end the enchanting interlude, managed to agree in an appropriately gentlemanly manner so as to allow them to begin the walk back in a harmonious manner that they managed to maintain until reaching their destination.

At Netherfield, Elizabeth expressed a desire to enquire after Georgiana’s health before her departure for Longbourn, a request to which Darcy readily acceded, as he was happy for any excuse to prolong their contact. The patient turned out to have improved substantially in their absence, and was in fact out of bed and enjoying the sunlight through the sitting room window. Darcy warmly expressed his pleasure in her recovery, a sentiment that Elizabeth echoed with a bit more reservation, her suspicions being raised that Georgiana’s illness might have been a ruse to put her brother and her friend alone together for an extended period of time.

“Georgiana, Miss Bennet revealed a most interesting piece of news to me today. It turns out that her forthcoming travels will be taking her to Derbyshire, and that she will be spending some time in Lambton,” said Darcy.

“Really?” cried Georgiana, her eyes alight with enthusiasm. “You must come to Pemberley, then! I would much prefer to go to Pemberley than London; we have not been there since December. Could we not do that, William?”

“If that is your wish, we certainly may; I had not made a decision between Pemberley and London as yet, and we had originally planned to journey thither later this summer,” Darcy said indulgently.

Elizabeth eyed him with amusement, thinking how neatly he had put that decision on his sister, knowing full well what she would suggest. She had known the subject of Derbyshire would not be dropped so easily as it had been on their walk, but she had not been expecting an ambush on the subject quite so quickly. “I must urge you not to base your plans on mine; I will be at the disposal of my aunt and uncle during our tour, and they have a busy itinerary planned already.”

“Oh, but Pemberley would be an excellent location from which to visit so many of the sights of Derbyshire! Please, you must allow us to invite your aunt and uncle; I would so love to have you at Pemberley,” said Georgiana.

This was rather stronger than Elizabeth had expected; she had thought they would be invited to call at Pemberley, not to stay there. She suspected that Georgiana did not understand about her connections—Darcy himself had learned to be polite to her family, but having some of them to stay at Pemberley was likely to be a different question. “Your invitation is very gracious, and I would certainly be delighted if the opportunity arose to see you while I was in Lambton, but I must insist that I have no say over the planning of our journey.”

Georgiana, however, was not to be easily dismissed, and pleaded with Elizabeth to consider the possibility until Darcy, who had managed to stay out of the discussion, rescued her by offering to drive her home.

They set off in their usual manner, and as they drove off Elizabeth, following their ritual, slipped her hand into his. Darcy looked down at her with a smile that warmed his features becomingly. “Do you have any idea how much pleasure you give me by doing that?” he asked quietly.

Elizabeth, who had much rather not hear about it at all, especially when her insides seemed to give a very peculiar lurch at his words, tried to avoid serious discussion by responding playfully, “Hopefully enough to compensate for a small fraction of the trouble I cause you!”

He looked at her seriously. “I would not wish to be anyplace else.”

Her cheeks warm, Elizabeth dropped her eyes. “Mr. Darcy, I would prefer not to enter into this discussion at this point,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper.

“As you wish, then,” he said, as neutrally as he could. He wondered if she had any idea what this was like for him, waiting for days for nothing more than the chance of a few hours with her, and then only a little time alone. How was he to stay sane when he was forced to hope for her to allow him to hold her hand, when what he wanted was to take her in his arms and kiss her in such a way that would brand her forever his—what it was like to love her so desperately, to dream each night of taking her in his bed, and to need her affection and approval so badly, yet to receive only ambiguous signals regarding her feelings about his attentions. She had taught him the hard way about humility, and, by God, now she was doing the same thing with patience, and he hated this lesson just as much as the one before it.

Perhaps this was becoming too intense. Perhaps he needed to remember he had other responsibilities in life besides wooing Elizabeth Bennet. A little perspective might help him through this. If she held to her usual pattern, it would be two, or more likely three days until he saw her again. Perhaps a night or two in London was what he needed. Certainly he had enough business piling up there that required his attention. And then, if he could get her to Pemberley, even for only a few days, where he could see her every day, every morning over breakfast, every evening, where he could take her for walks through the gardens and the park, without having to worry about what her parents would think, or who would see them… If you do not stop thinking this way instantly, he told himself sternly, you will end up doing something rash that you are certain to regret later. Think about London. Think about anything else at all.

Elizabeth had noted his withdrawal following their earlier conversation. She was initially glad he had heeded her request to discontinue the discussion, but was now less happy with the result, as his behavior was no longer what she expected under these circumstances. They never spoke much on these rides, but he had always used this brief time alone to look at her with a warmth that was hidden at other times, and to take every possible advantage in caressing her hand. Now he seemed more withdrawn, but perhaps that was only because they had already had a great deal of time together that day. She was beginning to have enough of a sense of him, though, to suspect that this was not the case, and she wondered what the cause might be.

Perhaps he was more discouraged by her earlier request not to speak of his feelings than she had thought, or perhaps it had been one refusal more than he was felt prepared to bear after she had also avoided the invitation to Pemberley. They had certainly done their share of quarrelling earlier in the day, and that she had needed to limit his familiarity on more than one occasion might also be construed as discouraging. Well, if he was disturbed by her decisions, his position was indefensible, since she had been more than justified in each of her refusals, and without question should have taken those refusals much farther than she had. As she began to feel irritated, she reminded herself that he had not in fact made any complaint about her actions, nor was he acting in an angry manner; and if his feelings were ones of disappointment or discouragement, well, certainly the poor man was entitled to whatever feelings he chose, so long as he did not attempt to impose them on her. No, she had no cause for complaint in his reaction; she simply did not like to see him unhappy.

With an impulse that she did not wish to inspect too closely, she spoke his name, and, when he turned to look at her, reached up and brushed her lips very quickly and lightly against his. She had never seen him look so startled, and she looked down with a small satisfied smile.

With a feeling of incredulous delight, he reined in the horses, and, as the carriage came to a stop, said, “Well, Miss Bennet, if your parents ever told you that you should never distract the driver, I am certainly glad you chose not to heed their instructions.”

She stole a quick glance at him, too embarrassed to look at him directly. “Your horses seem well trained enough to manage to stay on the road for a moment.”

“My horses are admirably trained. However, now that you have my full and complete attention, I cannot help but wonder if there is any chance of persuading you to consider a repetition of your action.”

“And you claim to be shy!” she teased.

“With sufficient motivation, I can overcome it, and I believe that I am more than sufficiently motivated at the moment.”

She still could hardly look at him, but managed comply with his request, despite her burning cheeks. It was so swift that she felt a response more to her daring than to the brief contact.

Darcy was managing the near-impossible by appearing calm and pleased despite feeling far from calm. Again he had been more successful when he allowed Elizabeth to set the pace and did not demand more than she felt ready to give, and he was determined to give her no reason to regret her action. He was resolved not to make the mistake of asking too much again, and made no effort to move beyond the brief, feather-light contact she had initiated, despite his strong impulse to capture her lips with his own and to drink his fill of her. He saw how embarrassed she was, and thought it best to keep his response minimal, but could not stop himself from leaning down and stealing one more kiss from her, of no more duration or depth than the ones she had freely given him. With an effort, he steeled himself, picked up the reins, and set off again, only then allowing himself to glory in the fact that Elizabeth had kissed him of her own free will. God, but she was full of surprises! Just when he thought that there was no progress, too. He tightened his hand on hers, and was delighted to feel her return the pressure.

All too soon they were approaching Longbourn. Darcy stopped just out of sight of the house to take a moment to kiss her hand, and on impulse turned her hand over to place a kiss in her palm, and then one on the delicate skin inside her wrist. He heard her sharp intake of breath with the greatest of pleasure. She was looking at him again, with confusion but neither displeasure nor fear. “Thank you for today,” he said softly before bringing the carriage up to the door.

“Good day, Mr. Darcy,” she said with more equanimity than she felt.

“Good day, Miss Bennet,” he replied. He watched her until she went in the door, then drove off, full of elation.

That night, as Elizabeth sat at her vanity brushing her hair, she thought back on the events of the day with some agitation. She could no longer say with any honesty that she had no feelings for Darcy. If nothing else, he affected her powerfully on the physical level, more, in fact, than she had thought possible. That it troubled her when he was in distress, and that she wished to protect him, was indubitable; she felt a real interest in his welfare, but still doubted the wisdom of allowing that welfare to depend on herself.

Her chief disturbance lay in the cause, or lack thereof, for her change in sentiments toward him. She enjoyed his company more than she had in the past, and his caring behavior towards his sister was a testimonial in his favor, but the fact remained that he was a man accustomed to being in control of all around him. He was accustomed to making arrangements as he pleased, including making decisions on the behalf of others, and he was managing to do the same with her to a disturbing extent. He did not hesitate to let her know what he wanted, or that he intended to persist until he got it. Try as she might, she was unable to recall any instance in the whole of their acquaintance when he had submitted to another’s will. Nor, apart from his obvious concern for his sister, could she recollect any clear instance of goodness or benevolence to further establish his character.

Some of the appeal of his company at the moment lay in her own vanity and desire for companionship. Since Jane’s engagement, she had but little time to bestow on her sister, for while Bingley was present, she had no attention for anyone else, and in his absence she talked of nothing but him. Thus was Elizabeth deprived of her closest confidante and friend, and, with Charlotte long gone, little other source of congenial company. How could she but be pleased to have a man of Darcy’s sensibilities at her disposal with no goals but to please her and to attend to her whenever she wished? A romance based on her loneliness and his availability would hardly seemed destined for success, and suggested the disturbing idea that Elizabeth was taking advantage of Darcy’s feelings for her own purposes.

Why could she not have fallen in love with someone like his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, who was amiable, interesting, and calm, someone without the tendency to withdraw and the capacity to brood, who was not always such a mystery? She had watched each step of the way as Bingley fell in love with Jane, and she had seen admiration, affection, thoughtfulness, and delight in her company, but never the frightening intensity that Darcy often displayed towards her. And there really was no question, she finally admitted to her reflection in the mirror, that she was falling in love with him. The idea terrified her.

She had always scoffed at the heroines of the romantic novels who fell in love with the wrong man, yet how else could she characterize this? What sort of basis for a marriage was physical attraction and fondness for a lover’s attention? Courtship was brief and marriage long, and while he was most attentive now, what might happen when the wooing was over and she was won. Would there be a return to days of his silent observation of her?

This is unbearable, she thought. She wanted to be with him, to feel the pleasure that only his touch could bring her, and at the same time, she feared the outcome. She would never tolerate being controlled, and he already seemed to have far too much power over her feelings. She knew what she ought to do—to follow the advice she would herself give to those romantic heroines, which was to put a stop to it now, before it went any farther, by telling him his hopes were in vain; to try to recover herself while she still had the power, so that someday in the future she might have the opportunity to love a man more suited to her. But it had already gone too far for her to give him up. She could try to slow the pace of their romance, though she would have no cooperation whatsoever from Darcy in that regard, and she could try to contain the intensity; she could see him less often, avoid spending time with him alone, limit the liberties she allowed him, as she certainly should in any case. And she should stay away from Pemberley and any suggestion of a future for her in his home, on his terms.

Georgiana was not looking forward to the day for more reasons than one. She had come to enjoy Elizabeth’s lively company, but she had not been able to see her for several days owing to a succession of rain. It did not help that William had been pacing the halls of Netherfield like a caged lion for the same period of time, and had hardly been pleasant company. It was starting to annoy Georgiana that he insisted nothing unusual was happening and Elizabeth was no more than an acquaintance. Did he think her so blind? She smiled as she thought of how her brother looked whenever he saw Elizabeth. If only he would work up the courage to propose to her! When she sent them off together to Gadebridge Hill, she hoped the walk would give him his chance, but that had proved to be a disappointment.

But William’s irritability and the lack of Elizabeth’s company did not trouble her as much as the prospect of spending the day with Miss Bingley, who had arrived, along with the Hursts, the previous day. Miss Bingley would, as always, be most attentive to her, and she would have to tolerate her insincere compliments, which were as troublesome to her as Miss Bingley’s demeaning remarks about everyone who was neither a Bingley nor a Darcy. She was not blind as to the true intention of Miss Bingley’s civility to her; she had lived in fear for some time that William would fall into her snares, and had been much relieved when one day he had made his opinion of his friend’s sister clear in a conversation with her. Now she had no worries whatsoever on that regard, apart from how Miss Bingley would react to William’s attentions to Elizabeth.

She gathered herself together to go downstairs. She had delayed as long as she could by having breakfast brought to her room, but William would think something was wrong if she did not appear soon. Perhaps she could escape quickly to practice her music, preferably for a long time.

“My dear Georgiana!” came Miss Bingley’s honeyed tones as soon as she entered the room. “I am so pleased to see you. I was beginning to fear that you might be unwell. How charming you look this morning!”

“Thank you,” she said softly. “I am well.” Her eyes darted around the room, but she did not find William. Had he already made an escape? “Is my brother here? There was something I wished to tell him.”

“He and Charles have deserted us, I fear. They have gone to Longbourn with the intent of inviting dear Jane to dine with us today.”

Georgiana did not miss the mild venom in Miss Bingley’s voice when she spoke the name of her future sister, nor the scorn when she mentioned Longbourn. She opened her eyes wide, and said, “Oh, I am so sorry to have missed them! I love calling at Longbourn. Everyone there is so lively and pleasant.” She hoped neither William nor Bingley would see fit to mention that on the one occasion she had visited Longbourn, she had been too nervous to say more than five words to anyone but Elizabeth.

Miss Bingley looked taken aback, but recovered quickly. “I am so glad to hear that you have found friends here. I have worried that you might be lonely, given how limited the country society is.”

“Oh, I have not found it limited at all! It reminds me of Pemberley. But if Miss Bennet is coming to dinner, I had best go practice now. I promised William I would work faithfully every day on my Mozart.” Georgiana hastened to depart, but was forced by politeness to listen to several rounds of compliments on her musical abilities and dedication to practice before she could retire to the peace of the music room.

Dinner was made more agreeable for Georgiana by the addition of Elizabeth to the party, a change that clearly had not been communicated earlier to Miss Bingley, to judge by the look on her face when the guests arrived. Georgiana stayed close by Elizabeth’s side as much as she could, despite frequent efforts by Miss Bingley to draw her off into conversation. Elizabeth appeared not the least intimidated by either Miss Bingley or Mrs. Hurst, but instead met their sneering civilities with pleasant discourse, showing her more truly well-bred than the others.

Darcy was less satisfied with the progress of the evening. He had grown accustomed to spending time with Elizabeth either alone or with only Georgiana present, a situation in which her wit and teasing were allowed full rein, to his delight. She was more subdued in this company, no doubt due to the need to fend off the comments of Bingley’s sisters. It was clear he would not have her to himself for so much as a minute, a situation that was not to his liking, especially after their last meeting.

His frame of mind would have been improved had he known that Elizabeth shared some of those sentiments. Overall, she told herself firmly, Miss Bingley’s presence would be helpful, since she would do everything within her power to prevent Darcy from being alone with Elizabeth. But she could not help missing his warm, intent look and his touch. The only moment of relief came when Darcy and Bingley attended them to their carriage, and, while Jane and Bingley bid one another a prolonged adieu, Darcy took the opportunity to hold her hand longer than necessary when handing her into the carriage.

When the gentlemen returned inside, it was to discover Miss Bingley, who had carefully noted where Darcy’s attention lingered during the evening, venting her feelings in criticisms of Elizabeth’s person, behavior, and dress. “For my own part, I must confess that I never could see any beauty in her. Her face is too thin; her complexion has no brilliancy, and her features are not at all handsome. Her nose wants character; there is nothing marked in its lines. Her teeth are tolerable, but not out of the common way, and as for her eyes, which have sometimes been called so fine…”

“I think she is lovely,” Georgiana interrupted, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it could be heard at Longbourn. The attention of the entire party turned immediately in response to this novel behavior on her part. Darcy looked at her as if she had suddenly turned into a stranger, though not in a displeased way.

Miss Bingley recovered quickly, and, though she should have recognized that she was not recommending herself to either Darcy or Georgiana, angry people are not always wise. She continued, “I remember, when we first knew her, how amazed we all were to find that she was a reputed beauty; and I particularly recollect your saying one night, Mr. Darcy, after they had been dining at Netherfield, ‘She a beauty! I should as soon call her mother a wit.’ But afterwards she seemed to improve on you, I believe.”

Georgiana’s eyes turned on her brother full of shocked reproach, hardly able to credit he could have said such a thing, but when he did not deny it, she said, astonished by her daring, “Miss Bingley, Elizabeth is a dear friend of mine, and I will thank you not to speak of her in such a way in my presence. I find her pleasant, witty, generous, and altogether too well-bred to make these kind of derogatory comments.” As soon as the words stopped pouring out of her mouth, she realized she had gone too far. With a stricken look, she whispered a ‘good night’ to the room in general and turned and fled.

Bingley recovered first. “Well, Darcy, your little sister is growing up! You are going to have your hands full with her soon.”

“I am indeed,” said Darcy thoughtfully.

Miss Bingley could not stop herself. “Judging from her behavior, I cannot say that I believe Miss Elizabeth Bennet is an altogether good influence on Georgiana, Mr. Darcy.”

“Quite the contrary,” he said with a smile, thinking of how much he would enjoy telling an edited version of this tale to Elizabeth. “I believe she is just what Georgiana needs.” He then went away, and Miss Bingley was left to all the satisfaction of having forced him to say what gave no one any pain but herself.