After receiving such a set-down from Darcy, and after indulging in a fair amount of reflection, Mr. Collins was finally forced to concede what had become painfully obvious to everyone else in the house—he could no longer expect to receive the proper distinction and respect he believed his due by remaining any longer at Longbourn; thus, he quitted his cousin’s house at first light the following morning and hastened to Lucas Lodge, where he would remain until his departure for Hunsford several days hence.
Rather than riding over to Longbourn and braving the effusions of Mrs. Bennet after spending what he had deemed to be an exceptionally trying day in that house not twelve hours earlier, Darcy suggested to Bingley that they extend an invitation to the two eldest Miss Bennets, entreating them to spend the afternoon and evening at Netherfield instead. Declaring it an excellent idea, and quite wishing they had thought of it a good deal sooner, Bingley wasted no time dispatching a footman with his carriage and a note to Jane.
Just as the ladies were making ready to leave, Charlotte arrived. “Lizzy!” she called out as she hurried toward them.
“Charlotte! It is good to see you,” she said with a smile and an affectionate embrace. “We are to dine today at Netherfield and were just about to depart.”
Charlotte’s expression, which her friend had thought appeared somewhat troubled, became even more so. “I am glad, then, to have caught you, Elizabeth. I am afraid I have some rather distressing news to relate that I would not wish you to hear from another source. Indeed, it cannot wait.”
Elizabeth and Jane looked at her quizzically. Taking Elizabeth’s hands, Charlotte revealed that it concerned Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.
“Me and Mr. Darcy? Charlotte, I cannot possibly imagine what could be so distressing about any news concerning us.”
“I am sure you are aware of Mr. Collins’s hasty removal this morning to Lucas Lodge?”
Elizabeth and Jane nodded their assent.
“You must also be well acquainted, then, with his immense displeasure on the subject of Mr. Darcy and the strength of that gentleman’s attachment to you.”
Again, both sisters nodded.
“Elizabeth, Mr. Collins is extremely indignant. He has claimed Mr. Darcy has gone against the express wishes of his aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh—and, perhaps—his entire family by entering into an engagement with you. From what I have been told, Mr. Darcy has a prior understanding with Lady Catherine’s daughter.”
Jane gasped, and though she felt a moment of panic at the mention of Darcy’s family, Elizabeth only scowled and said in a bitter voice, “Yes, that is what Mr. Collins has accused him of, Charlotte, but I can assure you any claim of that sort is untrue. There was never any understanding between Mr. Darcy and Miss de Bourgh. Mr. Darcy informed me himself that it was merely the fanciful whim of Lady Catherine and nothing more.”
“I confess I am relieved to hear it. Please understand I do not doubt you, Elizabeth, nor do I doubt Mr. Darcy’s integrity as a gentleman, but Mr. Collins has taken the liberty of relating all the particulars as he is acquainted with them, not only to myself, but to my father, my mother, and my entire family—and all within earshot of the servants. Tomorrow morning he means to leave for Kent to inform Lady Catherine of Mr. Darcy’s engagement, and that is not all, I fear. I hesitate to mention the rest.”
“Charlotte, please,” she entreated, “did you not just say you would not wish for me to learn of anything from idle gossips?”
By now, all three ladies had grown decidedly agitated.
Charlotte drew a deep breath and exhaled fully before she next spoke. “Very well, Elizabeth, I will tell you all, but please know it gives me great pain to do so.” She tightened her grip on her friend’s hands and continued, “Mr. Collins has spoken quite explicitly of a moment of shocking intimacy he claims to have witnessed between you and Mr. Darcy last night in your father’s garden. I believe it is his intention to inform Mr. Darcy’s aunt you have somehow drawn him in—seduced him, even—thus, forcing him to offer you his hand under duress. Oh, Elizabeth, I am so very, very sorry! Mr. Collins seems quite confident Lady Catherine will insist upon Mr. Darcy breaking his engagement to you, and, as he has told me Lady Catherine is one of Mr. Darcy’s few living relations and very nearly the head of his family, he is certain her wishes shall be carried out.”
It was Elizabeth’s turn to gasp as she felt the blood drain from her face and swayed.
Jane, though feeling rather unwell herself, moved to help Charlotte support her. There was concern written plainly on the faces of both.
“Lizzy,” said Jane urgently, “you must come into the house, and we will inform our father at once of all we have just learnt. Certainly, he will know what is best to be done.”
For several moments, Elizabeth was capable of nothing beyond a blank look of incomprehension and, when she had finally recovered her voice enough to speak, sounded so very much unlike herself—so faint and distressed—that Jane and Charlotte found themselves fearing for her. “No. I must go to Netherfield. I must speak to Mr. Darcy at once.”
Jane attempted to dissuade her, but on this, Elizabeth was adamant: she would speak with Darcy. Seeing her sister’s distress only continue to increase, she finally consented, though with great reluctance, and all three ladies soon found themselves settled in Bingley’s carriage and on their way to Netherfield. Charlotte accompanied them only as far as the lane to Lucas Lodge.
When the carriage arrived at its destination, both gentlemen were waiting to greet the ladies from Longbourn. Bingley hurried forward and handed Jane down with a smile, which faltered upon seeing her troubled expression. When Darcy stepped forward to extend his hand to assist Elizabeth, she remained in the far corner of the carriage, her naturally rosy complexion decidedly pale, and looking as though she would burst into tears at any moment.
“Good God!” he exclaimed. “Whatever is the matter? Truly, Elizabeth, you look extremely ill!” Unable to elicit from her any response beyond a look of utter despair and complete wretchedness, he turned toward Jane with no small amount of concern.
“I am afraid, sir,” she began unsteadily, “we have just had a visit from the future Mrs. Collins, in which she has imparted to us some most distressing news. I am afraid it concerns Lizzy and you, and, I am sorry to say, is of a most disturbing nature.”
“What news? What in God’s name has that odious man to accuse me of now?” he demanded indignantly.
Eying the driver and footman, Jane quietly addressed Bingley. “Cannot we all go into the house, Charles? I believe we should discuss this unfortunate development with Mr. Darcy in private.”
Bingley understood her perfectly. “Yes. Yes, of course. Darcy, I am certain Miss Elizabeth would benefit from a few moments in which to collect herself. Perhaps you can join us in my study when she is feeling better?”
Darcy nodded distractedly, and after Bingley had dismissed the driver and footman and escorted Jane into the house, he took a seat in the carriage beside Elizabeth and closed the door. No words were uttered, but Darcy was able to read her anguish as clearly as if she had spoken it aloud. Suddenly, Elizabeth reached for him, burying her face in his lapel. He enfolded her in his embrace, one arm wrapping around her shoulders while his other hand moved to cradle the back of her head. He held her while she wept.
It seemed as though an eternity had passed before Elizabeth was once again in control of herself. Darcy produced his handkerchief from his waistcoat and wiped her tears with unexampled affection. When he had done, he drew her back against his chest, his tone soft and filled with concern. “Elizabeth, dearest, please. Will you not speak to me of it?”
Her head was pounding, and at first, she was unequal to saying anything, but after several moments she managed to speak in a low, angry voice, the words nearly choking her. “He saw us, Fitzwilliam. My hateful cousin. He actually watched us last night for some time when we were together in the garden… while you and I… when you were… touching me. He saw it all! I am disgraced! My reputation, my family, all my sisters! We are all sullied because of this! He means to tell your aunt and put an end to our engagement!” Elizabeth fought to control her agony, to prevent more tears of anguish from falling, but it proved a hopeless business.
Darcy continued to hold her close, kissing her hair and stroking her back. He could not stop himself from shaking with the rage rising within his breast at the persistent, unwarranted, and malicious interference of Mr. Collins. Try as he would, Darcy’s anger did not abate. At long last, Elizabeth quieted, giving way almost completely to exhaustion.
When she finally felt well enough to leave the carriage and enter the house, it was to discover her sister had already apprised Bingley of their conversation with Charlotte. After repeating the particulars for Darcy and watching his anger continue to swell to a quiet fury as he paced the length of the room, Bingley rang for a servant to prepare a room for Elizabeth, so she might rest for a few hours. Pausing to take a long, thoughtful look at the woman he had long since given his heart to, Darcy excused himself and strode stiffly from the room.
It was many hours later that Elizabeth opened her eyes to vaguely familiar surroundings. Casting her gaze about her, she was startled to find herself still occupying the elegant bedchamber that Mr. Bingley’s housekeeper, Mrs. Blakely, prepared for her that afternoon, along with a strong cup of medicinal tea the elderly woman insisted would ease the throbbing in her head and allow her to sleep. As her headache now appeared to have gone, and the delicate floral pattern upon the walls was bathed in nothing but the soft glow of a low-burning fire, she could only assume the tea must have worked its magic. She yawned and attempted to pull herself to a sitting position, only to discover she appeared to be restrained by something warm and heavy pressing upon her body.
Panic flowed through her, and she began to struggle against the weight that seemed to be pinning her. Then she heard a muffled voice and felt a warm breath upon her neck, which made her freeze. “Shh, Elizabeth, it is late. Go back to sleep, my love.”
“Fitzwilliam!” she gasped. “What are you doing here? Why are we sleeping in the same bed?” She could not begin to account for his presence there, for such a complete breach of propriety—and under his friend’s own roof!
Darcy tightened his hold on her and, nuzzling her neck, replied in a sleepy voice, “You have nothing to fear from me, dearest. Go back to sleep, or you will surely wake the house.”
Despite Darcy’s reassurance, Elizabeth could not help but worry. “But why has no one bothered to wake me? Where are the Bingleys and Mr. and Mrs. Hurst? And where is Jane? She must be terribly worried about me.” She stopped then, placed her hand over her eyes, and groaned. “Fitzwilliam, please tell me I have not slept all afternoon. Poor Mr. Bingley must think me unpardonably rude.”
At this, Darcy released her and, raising himself upon one elbow, fixed her with a steady gaze full of love and longing. He was lying beneath the counterpane, clad only in his fine linen shirt and, Elizabeth fervently hoped, his breeches. Her gaze traveled over his handsome features, and she inhaled sharply as she beheld the beauty of his neck for the first time, completely unencumbered by a cravat.
Darcy chuckled at her reaction and took pity on her. “As I said, you need not have any fear of me, Elizabeth. Your sister is sleeping just down the hall, and a note has long since been dispatched to Longbourn, informing your family you had taken ill upon your arrival. I am sorry to inform you, however, you have indeed slept, not only through luncheon, but through supper, as well. By the time your sister and Bingley became aware of the lateness of the hour, the weather had taken such a turn as to make it necessary for both of you to spend the night. You are now, and quite to my satisfaction, I might add, stranded by a rather unrelenting storm.”
More than a little mortified by his account of her current circumstances, not to mention most reluctant to credit it, Elizabeth threw back the counterpane and made her way toward the window, muttering irritated words under her breath about Mrs. Blakely and the strength of her tea. Sure enough, upon peering through the curtains, her sight was instantly assailed by a blinding torrent of thick snow.
Turning back to Darcy in astonishment, she found his eyes lingering on her form with a look she had come to know well. It was at that moment she recalled she was wearing only a low-cut night shift she had borrowed from Mrs. Hurst, which clung to her body. Judging from his passionate gaze, he had noticed as well.
“Are you going to continue there all night in the cold, or will you come back to me where I can resume keeping you warm?” Darcy patted the empty space beside him on the bed.
Elizabeth moved to cover herself, but finding nothing near at hand to suit her purpose, she was forced to settle for wrapping her arms securely about her chest. This only served to make Darcy erupt in silent laughter. Elizabeth failed to see the humor in her situation. “I… well… exactly what, pray, are you doing in my bed, Mr. Darcy? I am correct in my assumption this is, indeed, my bed, sir, am I not?” She finished with a raised brow and an arch look.
“Indeed, it is, Miss Bennet,” he said in a voice full of mirth as he rose from the bed to join her by the window. “But I far prefer to think of it as our bed.”
“Our bed? Really, Mr. Darcy.” She was taken aback by his boldness, but not wholly intimidated. “And are you not afraid someone will discover you here, sir, in our bed?” she asked rather impudently.
Darcy was standing directly before her, his body so close Elizabeth could feel the heat radiating from him. “Not at all,” he said in a low voice. “I have taken the liberty of locking the doors.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard at this declaration but found her voice again quickly. “Ah, such foresight, sir, but it seems you have forgotten you will have to return eventually to your own chamber before morning. So how, pray, do you propose you will manage that feat without calling attention to our current, scandalous situation?”
“That, my love, is simple.” He directed her attention to a door she had not noticed, next to the chaise. “Our rooms are adjoined. I need only open that door to return to my own apartment quite undetected.”
Her mouth formed a silent “O,” and her eyes widened.
“Yes, it is most convenient.” He took a deep, steady breath and, with a small smile, trailed his hands down the length of her arms.
Elizabeth closed her eyes and sighed. “I am surprised Mr. Bingley and my sister approved of such an arrangement. You must admit it is highly improper.”
“Yes,” he murmured, “highly improper. If I am not mistaken though, your sister is quite unaware of the close proximity of our chambers. Bingley, on the other hand, would very much like to believe the orchestration of this arrangement to have been an oversight by a careless servant.”
“I see,” she whispered, her pulse quickening. “Yet, it was not an oversight, was it?”
“No,” he agreed, “it most definitely was not.”
They stood in silence for some time, the eyes of each searching the depths of the other, before Darcy spoke again. “Truly, I intended this only for the purpose of slipping into your room undetected to provide comfort to you should you be in need of it, but, forgive me, Elizabeth, once I laid my eyes upon you as you slept so peacefully, I could not bring myself to leave you. I know it was very wrong of me, and indeed, I have no excuse to offer you for my behavior other than a sincere, heartfelt concern for what I know you to have suffered.”
Elizabeth stared at him, her eyes sparkling in the waning light of the fire. She reached out to him then, placing her hands upon his chest. Darcy swallowed, his throat suddenly parched as he forced himself to say, “I believe the time has come for me to return to my own rooms. If you are truly feeling better, my love, I would not wish to put your reputation at risk any more than I already have.”
He placed a chaste kiss upon her forehead and made to leave, but was stopped by Elizabeth as she laid her hands upon his arm. “You do bring me comfort,” she whispered. “Please do not go. Stay with me. No one need ever learn of it.”
Darcy could hardly believe what he was hearing and so closed his eyes, willing himself to remain in control of his senses. Elizabeth’s fingers had begun to move over his chest in the most exquisite manner, robbing him of all coherent thought. He took several deep breaths before finally managing to summon the strength required to remove her hands from his body. She gave him a puzzled look as he released her and took a step backward. “I cannot. You know I cannot.”
She was hurt; he could read as much in her expressive eyes. “You do not wish to lie with me, then?” she inquired, her voice pained.
“No,” he said hoarsely. “It is because I want nothing more right now than to lie with you that leads me to refuse you. Surely you are not so naïve as to believe you would awaken in the morning a maiden still if I were to lie with you tonight? My self-control when I am with you, and especially at this moment, I am afraid, is sadly lacking. I cannot consent to such a thing, my love. Not before you are truly my wife.”
Elizabeth raised her eyes. “My own self-possession, I fear, where you are concerned, also leaves something to be desired. So as you can see, sir, I believe it is a hopeless case.”
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, “you know not what you say. It is not right. You should be my wife.”
“Then make me your wife, Fitzwilliam. Make me your wife tonight.”
Darcy silently stared at her for some time, struggling against the overwhelming urge to surrender his body and soul to the intoxicating woman before him. His heart was already in her possession; it had been so for many months now, from almost the very first moment he had laid his eyes on her.
Elizabeth was gazing up at him, an unmistakable look of love in her eyes, and Darcy felt a searing pang of longing shoot through his breast. Suddenly, such temptation, when presented to him in the irresistible form of the woman he not only loved, but desired above any other, was simply too much. With a shaky breath, he indulged one of his favorite fantasies—that of entwining his hands possessively within her hair.
Elizabeth ran her tongue over her parched lips and quivered in anticipation, unable to deny the desire pulsing through her veins.
“My Elizabeth, I love you so,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “Are you certain, absolutely certain, this is what you truly wish?”
Elizabeth nodded, her eyes never leaving his, and Darcy pressed his body against her own and claimed her lips in a kiss that conveyed the depth of his desire. He deepened the kiss, and Elizabeth parted her lips, welcoming his tongue as it explored her mouth. His hands disengaged her curls to roam freely over her curves, tantalizing her body with firm strokes, his fingers pausing only to loosen the bodice of her night shift before resuming their previous ministrations.
Elizabeth was utterly lost to everything around her save for the man before her, and seemingly without warning, the thin fabric of her shift slid from her shoulders and down to the floor in a cascade of creamy silk, exposing her breasts and hips to his adept touch. It left her gasping as the chill of the room and Darcy’s skilled hands assaulted her bare flesh.
He withdrew just far enough to allow his gaze to devour the vision before him. Elizabeth’s mouth was parted in anticipation of his kisses, her full breasts with their pert nipples heaving, her hips—he dared not think of her hips—so smooth and inviting, waiting for him to draw forth all the undeniable passion burning within her. In the wake of his increasing ardor, Darcy struggled to regain his senses and, so softly he could barely hear his own words, murmured, “My dearest love, you are exquisite beyond my wildest dreams.”
Elizabeth slowly opened her eyes. She had always imagined being completely unclothed before a man would have been, at the very least, disconcerting, to say nothing of embarrassing, but on this night with Darcy, she found it surprisingly natural, utterly pleasurable. His ragged breathing felt hot against the side of her face as he stared at her with a smoldering look in his eyes that she returned with equal emotion. Elizabeth encircled his neck with her arms, burying her fingers in his tousled hair and, standing on the tips of her toes, teased the exposed skin of his neck with her lips and the velvet of her tongue.
A groan rose from the back of his throat, and she felt him shiver as she pressed her naked body against his solid, clothed form. He recaptured her mouth in an urgent kiss, holding her against him with one hand as the other slid along the curve of her spine and around the swell of her hip to insinuate itself between her thighs in the most intimate of caresses. It took her by surprise, and Elizabeth found her senses overwrought by an entirely new sensation. As the tension within her continued to build, her knees weakened, and she found herself moaning her pleasure against his lips.
Darcy could hardly contain his desire as he held her. She was beyond magnificent, a woman surrendering herself completely to her desires, a willing, active participant in his lovemaking. His own arousal was fierce, and he longed to possess her, to bring her to the pinnacle of satisfaction, to make all his dreams a reality. Her breath was coming in fast, shallow pants, and when Elizabeth uttered his name with longing, he begged her for the honor of making her his at last.
She answered him with a smoldering kiss and a breathy “Yes,” and with an inarticulate sound, Darcy lifted the woman he loved in his arms and carried her to the bed, where he made quick work of removing his shirt and breeches before taking his rightful place beside her. Instantly, his lips resumed their ministrations, burning a trail of kisses across her shoulders and neck and the small, sensitive spot behind her ear. All the while, his hands explored her curves in the most insistent manner.
He moved lower, running his wet tongue over her breasts until she could stand it no longer and, with the gentlest touch, barely grazed her nipple with his teeth. Elizabeth cried out as delicious sensations traveled throughout her body.
In an effort to silence her, Darcy returned his mouth to hers while his hands continued to pleasure her body. He ran his fingers lightly along her breasts, over her ribs, her waist, her hips, her thighs, and when her legs parted to allow him entrance to her most private place, he felt a new surge of desire for her and heard her gasp with pleasure as his fingers slid into her moist folds.
As Darcy began to stroke her most sensitive flesh in small, slow circles, Elizabeth lost all sense of everything else, surrendered herself to his fiery touch, and approached the height of her passion.
Darcy lifted his head to look at her. She was beyond exquisite with her hair strewn across the pillows, her eyes closed, her breathing labored, her back arching as he teased her with his finger. When she began to writhe from the ecstasy of his touch, he took her breast in his mouth and suckled her until she cried out for him, as though she were delirious with desire. At last he felt her release. Her body convulsed as wave upon wave of spasms washed over her.
Darcy’s eyes searched hers. In their liquid depths he saw no fear of what was yet to come—only love, fulfillment, and trust. “My dearest, are you quite certain this is truly what you want?” he asked softly, his voice hoarse, all the while praying her answer would be in the affirmative.
Elizabeth reached out to him. Her voice caught in her throat, and she whispered, “Fitzwilliam, make me yours.”
He placed a lingering kiss on her swollen lips, and as he parted her legs with his own, he was very nearly overcome by his desire for her, his arousal hard and insistent as it strained against her warmth. Darcy entered her with care, his eyes never leaving hers, desperately wishing he could gauge her thoughts and emotions. Elizabeth was gloriously tight, lush, and welcoming, and it took every ounce of inner strength he possessed to remind himself to go slowly, so as not to cause her any undue distress. When he met her resistance, he whispered in a strained voice, “My love, this may be painful, but only for a minute,” and in the next moment he thrust deeply, penetrating her last barrier. A small cry of pain escaped her; it could not be helped. He took a great deal of time to kiss her until he felt her body begin to relax around his.
Darcy wrapped her legs around his hips and began moving with slow, deliberate strokes, feeling the delicious heat quickly building to an almost intolerable pitch. He was overwhelmed with the feelings she inspired in him and could not help but marvel at the wonder of her and the tremendous intensity of their love. His need for her increased almost violently, and his motions accelerated to match his insatiable desire.
Elizabeth soon found her initial discomfort replaced by a hot, tingling sensation at her innermost core, and she began to move her body in time to Darcy’s rhythm until, with one final, deep thrust, he sent them both cresting over the edge of their passion, shuddering in a dizzying crescendo of ultimate pleasure.
They lay spent, their breathing erratic, their bodies glistening with perspiration in the waning light of the fire. At length, fearing his weight had become too much, Darcy withdrew to lie beside Elizabeth, pulling the counterpane around them. It was with great tenderness that his lips lingered over hers as his hand played with her curls. “Are you well, Elizabeth?” His voice was filled with love.
She snuggled against him, relishing the communion they had just shared. “Mmm… very well, Fitzwilliam.”
“I am relieved to hear it.” He kissed her again with feeling and whispered, “I adore you.”
Elizabeth smiled contentedly against his shoulder. “I would hope so, after sharing such a profound intimacy.”
Darcy’s voice filled with emotion. “You know not how long I have dreamt of making you mine. Visions of your beauty have haunted my thoughts for months, but none so breathtaking as the vision now before me. Truly, tonight was a gift beyond any I ever imagined.”
Elizabeth allowed her fingers to caress his chest. “Yes. It was very beautiful. I feel as though I am bound to you for all eternity.”
“And I to you, though you must realize my love for you already bound me to you months ago. But I agree. We have become even more, so much more. Nothing can ever tear you from me now, my sweetest Elizabeth.” Their lips met again as they held each other close, their bodies eager to repeat the intricate motions of a dance as old as time.