A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) (11 page)

I would tell you of my longing for you, but those words are not suited for a maiden’s eyes; that letter must be fed to the hungry fire, which does not burn as fiercely as my love for you. I could write to you of the depth of my hopeless admiration of you and how it overcame all my scruples, but words of that sort are likely to be as unforgivable as they are unforgettable. I can only tell you of the lessons I have learned from you, my dearest, loveliest, Elizabeth; lessons of the heart, of the error of my ways and my intolerable selfishness in not considering the sensibilities of those I care for, lessons which have made me a better man. They have also made me into a man who will never forget the sparkle of your fine eyes, the delightful turn of your countenance when you spy a victim for your teasing, the extraordinary light you bring into the darkest room; and I will always feel the lack of your presence when I am away from you, even though years and decades may pass. You are a woman in a million, as much for your honesty and sweetness as for your beauty and wit, and it has been my privilege to be a worshipper at your feet. Those are memories I would not surrender for anything, even if they are the only ones I ever have of you.

Now you see what only the flames have seen until now. I will understand completely if you treat me as if this letter had never existed; indeed, I deserve no more, and you need not worry that I will importune you further. Your love is a prize I dare not dream of gaining, one too precious for a mere mortal such as myself, but if you find any small part of yourself that is willing to consider my suit, nay, even to tolerate my occasional presence, I pray you will find some way to take pity on me and show me your forgiveness for these words. I will be in the grove each morning, my thoughts filled with you.

I will only add, God bless you.

Yours, more than my own,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

Elizabeth’s feelings on reading this letter were scarcely to be defined. Her cheeks wore a warm blush provoked by Mr. Darcy’s unexpectedly passionate eloquence. His attachment incited gratitude; his ardour, a sense of near-disbelief. How badly she had misread his behaviour even in Meryton, taking such a pronounced dislike to a gentleman who clearly saw himself as in her power! Her inclination before reading it was already in his favour, and it was impossible not to be touched by the depth and enduring nature of his attachment, and being touched by it, to feel some of the same warmth toward the writer. She read the letter over and over again, until she was in a fair way of knowing by heart. Finally, with a dreamy smile, she hid the precious letter in her reticule and returned to the parsonage.

An agitated Charlotte awaited her. “Lizzy, wherever have you been? We have been invited to tea at Rosings, and are expected in less than an hour. Mr. Collins has been frantic over your absence.”

Indeed, it had grown later in the day that Elizabeth had realized, but the unexpected invitation threw her into a turmoil of spirits. She had thought she had until the next morning to decide on a response to Mr. Darcy, and now she would be face to face with him in a short time – and in front of his family and the Collinses. How could she meet with him in public with the words of his letter ringing in her mind?

She hurried upstairs to change and to bring her hair into some sort of order. She wished she had more time so that she could look her best, but then she laughed at herself. Given what Mr. Darcy had written in his letter, she doubted it would matter to him if she appeared before him in rags. He had forgiven her so many other faults that a hurried toilette could hardly be expected to affect him!

In a short time, she joined Mr. and Mrs. Collins. The walk to Rosings, which might have given her time to calm herself, instead seemed devoted to flutterings of her pulse. Her distraction was such that Mr. Collins bestirred himself to ask if she were quite well, and to caution her on the dangerous of bringing contagious illness into the presence of Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Elizabeth could not help thinking that Lady Catherine would likely prefer a grave illness to the knowledge that she harboured a competitor for Mr. Darcy’s affections!

Elizabeth barely knew where to look when they were ushered into Lady Catherine’s presence. She dared not glance at Mr. Darcy for fear that her embarrassment would be all too easy for that gentleman to read. Fortunately, visits with that lady did not require thought about conversation, since Lady Catherine invariably directed the discussion in whatever direction interested her. On this day her mind turned to the subject of punctuality, owing to her displeasure with the arrival of the visitors several minutes after the hour specified.

Mr. Collins naturally could not apologize to her ladyship enough for this grave sin, though he sprinkled his expression of contrition with many compliments to both Lady Catherine and Miss DeBourgh. “We can all learn from your most excellent example, Lady Catherine, especially my dear cousin Elizabeth, as our deplorable tardiness was the result one of her exceedingly long rambles. Your ladyship has condescended to warn her of the dangers of this behaviour in the past. Today she left at mid-morning and did not return until an hour ago!”

“Miss Bennet, is this true?” Lady Catherine demanded.

“I am sorry to say it is true, Lady Catherine. I was preoccupied with my thoughts and lost track of the time, and it was most inconsiderate of me. I hope you will find it in your heart to exonerate Mr. and Mrs. Collins for this fault, which was solely my own.”

Mr. Darcy’s deep voice came from behind her. “The fault is mine. I encountered Miss Bennet on her walk and engaged her in conversation for some time, which caused the delay in her return.”

Startled, Elizabeth looked over at him, and her eyes met his dark, penetrating gaze. His expression was sober, but she thought she could perceive some signs of concern in the manner in which he held his hands, as if he was uncertain what to do with them. Feeling the more than uncommon awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, she said with a smile, “Mr. Darcy is most gracious, as our conversation was not of such great length that I could not have returned in good time, but the subject of his discourse gave me a great deal to ponder about.”

Lady Catherine frowned. “What could my nephew possibly have found to converse about with you at such length?”

Elizabeth, realizing that private conversation with Mr. Darcy was a worse sin in her ladyship’s eyes than mere tardiness, thought quickly and said, “Oh! It was a matter pertaining to his visit to Hertfordshire last autumn. The people there are unused to contact with a gentleman as discerning and knowledgeable as Mr. Darcy, and could not always perceive his generous motives in offering them his advice regarding the… management of their estates. I assure your ladyship that I now have a much better understanding of the value of Mr. Darcy’s opinion on matters of husbandry - “ at that moment her voice faltered briefly as she realized the interpretation he might put upon her words, “And I intend, on my return to Hertfordshire, to make certain that his most excellent advice is attended to by all concerned.”

Lady Catherine appeared mollified by this. “I am glad, Miss Bennet, to see that you can recognize your betters and learn from them. I am sure my nephew is far more knowledgeable in these matters than the persons with whom you are accustomed to consorting.”

“I cannot argue with your ladyship,” Elizabeth said, giving Mr. Darcy a teasing look. “His eloquence is enough to convince even those of differing opinions.” She was rewarded by the sight of his eyes opening slightly wider in surprise.

To Elizabeth’s mingled relief and disappointment, there was no opportunity for direct discourse with Mr. Darcy during the visit, as Lady Catherine decreed that her nephew should remain by the side of Miss DeBourgh. Elizabeth did not know what she would have said to him had the opportunity presented itself, but she could not deny that she wished it would. Her frustration was eased only when the time came to depart, when, while Lady Catherine was giving endless household advice to Charlotte, Mr. Darcy caught her gaze and his lips shaped the word, “Tomorrow.”

Elizabeth anticipated another restless night, but that did not prove to be the case. Once she was abed, she read Mr. Darcy’s letter one more time, then folded it and put it under her pillow, and almost immediately she drifted off into a deep sleep.

When her eyes opened the next morning, the sun was already well up in the sky. The previous day’s events came back to her, and she realized that Mr. Darcy would have been in the grove for some time already. How could she have overslept, on this of all days? He must think she wanted nothing to do with him. The very thought caused her a sharp pain.

She threw back the bedcovers and began to dress herself as quickly as she could, without even a thought as to what dress she chose. She brushed her hair out from her braid and twisted it into a knot. She wrapped a few tendrils around her finger to give them a touch of curl, and decided that would have to be enough. What would she do if she reached the grove and Mr. Darcy had already left?

She knew Charlotte would be in the sitting room. Not wishing to waste any precious minutes in conversation, Elizabeth crept down the back stairs and out through the kitchen. She headed for the grove at an unladylike pace.

When she arrived, she did not immediately see Mr. Darcy, and her heart sank. Would she have to wait until the following morning? Would he even return the next day after she had failed to meet him today? Then she noticed a dark shape leaning against the trunk of the twisted oak. It was him; his eyes closed and a pained expression on his face.

She spoke his name, and his eyes flew open, a becoming expression of heartfelt delight diffusing over his face. Elizabeth smiled – she could not have done anything else, as her lips seemed to have taken on a life of their own.

Darcy closed the distance between them with a few long strides. “Elizabeth?” he whispered. “I was afraid you were not coming, that I had misunderstood yesterday.”

Her mouth suddenly dry, Elizabeth shook her head. “No, I was merely…. delayed.”

“Thank God,” he said, his voice rough. Before she could realize what he was about, he took her into his arms and pressed his lips to hers.

She had not known that a man’s lips could be so warm and tender, and a surprising heat suffused through her. Her entire being seemed to be concentrated in her lips and on the fortunate spot on her back where his hands pressed against her. Her head swam in a sudden delight.

When he finally released her, his breathing ragged, she could do nothing but stare into his eyes. Despite the novels she had read, she had never realized a kiss could make the entire world a different place.

Her stunned silence apparently worried him, as he took her hands in his and said with concern, “Elizabeth? Are you well?”

A smile bloomed on her face. “Quite well. Very well indeed.”

His expression relaxed, and he looked younger and happier. “Elizabeth, tell me you will relieve me from my misery and agree to be my wife.” When she did not answer immediately, he added with a smile, “Or must I kiss you again until you agree?”

Elizabeth touched her finger to her lips. “You say that if I refuse you, you will kiss me again, so I must assume that if I accept, it would then follow that you would
not
kiss me. You are an unusual gentleman indeed, sir! This presents me with quite a dilemma.” She tilted her head as if in deep thought. “Well, I am afraid you leave me no choice but to refuse, since I would be very sorry if you did not kiss me again.”

A multitude of expressions passed over his face, first disbelief, then understanding, then a look of deepest happiness. “In that case, Miss Bennet, I look forward very much to convincing you to change your mind.”

With a smile, she closed her eyes and tipped up her face. She did not wait long before Mr. Darcy began to practice his skills at persuasion.

This story is a variation on a variation. I originally wrote two separate versions of
Impulse & Initiative/To Conquer Mr. Darcy
with different endings, depending on the outcome of the scene in the Pemberley library. The publishing world doesn’t look kindly on publishing two versions of the same book, so I had to make a choice, though it meant leaving behind some of my very favorite scenes. I’ve taken this opportunity to provide an excerpt from it. You don’t have to read I
mpulse & Initiative
to enjoy it. In brief, Colonel Fitzwilliam convinced Darcy to woo Elizabeth. He wins her heart, employing a great many kisses along the way, and the newly engaged couple travels to Pemberley along with the Gardiners.

One particularly fine morning Darcy invited Elizabeth to join him in a walk through the park, a suggestion which she immediately accepted with a smile. She knew from experience that they would wander as far as possible from the house, and that he would share some of his preferred places with her, and that they would not return until she had been thoroughly kissed.

As usual, it did not take long for a delightful tension to develop between the two as they descended among hanging woods, to the edge of the stream where it was crossed by a simple bridge. It was a spot less adorned than many in the park, and a particular favorite of Darcy's. Elizabeth paused on the bridge to look down the glen, which allowed room only for the stream, and a narrow walk amidst the rough coppice-wood which bordered it. As she admired the view, it was with no particular surprise, but a great deal of pleasure, that she felt her betrothed's arms slide around her waist. She leaned back against him with a happy sigh, enjoying the feel of his strong body against hers, and thought of how amazingly far they had traveled in the months of their acquaintance with each other, and how astonished she would have been only a few months ago had she known that some day she would find some of her greatest pleasure and comfort in his embrace.

Darcy's thoughts, as often seemed to happen these days, were not far from hers. He nuzzled her hair, enjoying its softness and sweet scent, and thought of how impossible this scene would have once seemed. The idea of a lifetime without the woman in his arms was be a bleak one indeed. “Did you know,” he said softly, his mouth at her ear, “that this was one of the places I used to picture being with you, during those months when I did not expect to see you again, but could not bring myself to forget you?”

She tilted her head against his shoulder so that she could look at him. “Very foresightful, I must say,” she teased.

He nibbled gently on her ear. “Are you laughing at my suffering, my love? It was not my fault that I was so bewitched by you.”

“Does that mean that you believe it to be mine?” she asked archly.

“Completely and totally.” He allowed his lips to drift behind her ear, and then down the line of her neck until she shivered in response. “If you had not persisted stubbornly in being so lovely, so witty, so lively, and so generally enchanting, I would never have had such a problem.” He remembered the heated dreams he had first experienced during her visit to Netherfield when Jane was ill, in which he had done so much more to her attractive body than he dared think of at the moment.

She smiled playfully at him, and, taking his hand, tugged him to continue on their walk. “I should have realized that such a beautiful day would put thoughts in your head,” she teased.

“And you would be correct that the thoughts were there, but personally, I would lay the blame on the loveliness of a certain lady, rather than the day.”

“I am not in a position to argue with your understanding of the situation, sir,” she said with a laugh.

“My understanding of these matters is excellent, Miss Bennet. After all, I
understood
that you should marry me long before you did.” He picked a sprig of light yellow flowers from a nearby bush and tucking it into her hair.

She gave him a sparking smile. “Yes, but had you courted me like this at Rosings, I might have agreed sooner.”

“Which part of this courting should I have used then, madam? I somehow imagine that you might have had some objection had I, on one of our walks through the park, taken you into my arms and kissed you passionately,” said Darcy, demonstrating his meaning as he spoke.

She was once more breathless when he released her. “I might have found it somewhat surprising, to say the least, if the severe and stern Mr. Darcy were to have behaved in such a manner,” she said lightly, “though it likely would have convinced me that I was somewhat mistaken about your impression of me.”

“And what would you have done?”

She decided that it would be impolitic to say that he would have found himself on the receiving end of a tongue-lashing that would have made her response to his proposal look temperate. “Before or after the shock caused me to feel faint?”

“Oh, before, definitely; afterwards I would have been far too involved in taking advantage of you to give my attention to anything else.”

“I cannot believe that the proper Mr. Darcy would have had such thoughts,” she teased.

“The proper Mr. Darcy was having thoughts at Rosings that would still shock you, my love,” he said. “Were you not aware that you were living a double life then? During the day, you limited yourself to the occasional impertinent remark, but late at night, my dearest, your behaviour was truly scandalous.”

“Really?” Elizabeth laughed. “And am I to assume that you took advantage of my shocking conduct?”

“Assiduously, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. It appears that you have also forgotten the times on our walks when, instead of walking silently at your side, I was doing this.” He turned, trapping her between him and the trunk of a large tree, his hands resting to either side of her, and leaned in to press kisses along the lines of her neck, sending exquisite fiery sensations through her. She shivered as his lips explored the tender skin below her ear, haunted by the urgent desire to feel his body against hers. Finally their mouths met; he kissed her lightly but enticingly, tempting her to deepen the kiss. She slid her arms around his neck and pulled him to her as her kisses turned teasing in return, and she felt his fingers tangle themselves in her hair, doing battle with the formal styling until it slid down across her shoulders in a mass of unruly curls.

He ran his hands through her hair, letting himself explore the pleasures of her mouth. “You were not quite so delightfully responsive then; my imagination did not range that far - if it had, you might have found yourself in dreadful straits indeed, my beautiful Elizabeth,” he murmured, leaning into her so that her back rested against the tree.

The feeling of his strong body against hers sent intoxicating waves of desire tumbling through her that his kisses could only begin to address, and she gasped her pleasure as his lips again began to wander down to the hollows of her shoulders. With one hand firmly ensconced in her hair, he trailed one finger of the other along the neckline of her gown in a manner which left her making small, inarticulate sounds of pleasure. “Oh, God, Elizabeth,” he groaned as his lips began to explore further. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

“William,” she whispered, half unwillingly, “you mustn't.” Somehow she found the resolve to put her hands to his shoulders to urge him away even as her body clamored for more. Reluctantly, he withdrew, only to slide his arms around her waist, letting her lean against him, her head against his shoulder.

“My love,” he said with a deep sigh. “You are such a temptation.” After a few moments, he pulled away, taking in her disheveled appearance. “My wood nymph,” he said with a smile.

She raised an eyebrow. “I must confess, I do
not
recall you behaving in that precise manner when we were in Kent,” she said with a saucy smile, beginning to search through her hair for displaced hair pins.

“That simply demonstrates how little you knew of what was in my mind then.”

“No wonder you were so silent, then; your mind was quite busily engaged elsewhere, it seems.”

“Well, it should be clear now why I felt obligated to propose, after behaving in such an ungentlemanlike manner.”

Elizabeth greatly enjoyed his playful mood, and was pleased that he could now tease her about her hurtful words at Hunsford. Perhaps that piece of the past could indeed be put behind them. “We had best return to the house, I believe,” she said lightly, but with distinct meaning, pausing to put her hair up again.

“As you wish,” he said with rueful amusement. They walked on for a short time longer, and as they drew nearer to Pemberley House, he paused to enjoy a last few moments alone with her. With a smile, he removed a small twig from her hair. “While I am more than happy to have you be my wood nymph, my dearest, I believe that I prefer to reserve that look for when we are alone,” he said warmly. Their eyes met in a lingering gaze. “You are my very dearest love, Elizabeth; I do not know how I ever managed to survive without you,” he said, caressing her cheek lightly.

“So long as you do not try to survive without me now, I am content,” she responded. It seemed as if she were always wishing to be in his arms these days; it was a constant sense of loss when they were in company and had to keep to a proper distance. She had truly never imagined the powerful force that love could be, that she would ever reach a state where he would be in her every thought, and that she would want nothing more than to be with him, when love itself would be a physical sensation that filled her whenever he was near.
It is an excellent thing,
she thought,
that we do not have to wait for months to marry; it is too hard to be separated already.

She did not know the extent to which her heart was in her eyes, but the impact of what Darcy saw in them was powerful. After all of the trials of the last year, the separations, the misunderstandings, the long waiting, and the gnawing need he had felt for her, these few days since she had declared her love for him had been like manna from heaven. He was in a constant state of elation; the pleasure that a mere glance from her could give him was beyond his imaginings. He would have been more than happy to send everyone else away from Pemberley, yes, even Georgiana, so that it could be just the two of them, together always, so that he could always feel her near him, her gaze upon him.

Finally they tore their eyes away from one another and entered the house, where the butler informed Mr. Darcy that the post had arrived, and with it two letters for Miss Bennet. She and Darcy glanced at each other regretfully, neither truly wishing to part from the other, but acknowledging that the time had come. “Until later, Miss Bennet,” he said with a formal bow.

“Until then, Mr. Darcy,” she responded before finding her way to the sitting room to enjoy her letters. She had been a good deal disappointed in not finding a letter from Jane on their first arrival at Pemberley; and now she had two. One of the letters was marked that it had been missent elsewhere. Elizabeth was not surprised at it, as Jane had written the direction remarkably ill.

The one missent must be first attended to; it had been written five days ago. The beginning contained an account of all their little parties and engagements, with such news as the country afforded, as well as her sister's raptures over her dearest Mr. Bingley; but the latter half, which was dated a day later, and written in evident agitation, gave more important intelligence.

Since writing the above, dearest Lizzy, something has occurred of a most unexpected and serious nature. An express came at twelve last night, just as we were all gone to bed, from Colonel Forster, to inform us that our sister Lydia was gone off to Scotland with one of his officers; to own the truth, with Wickham! So imprudent a match on both sides! But I am willing to hope the best, and that his character has been misunderstood. Thoughtless and indiscreet I can easily believe him, but this step marks nothing bad at heart. His choice is disinterested at least, for he must know my father can give her nothing. Our poor mother is sadly grieved. My father bears it better. How thankful am I, that we never let them know what has been said against him; we must forget it ourselves.