Alias Thomas Bennet (24 page)

“I am the happiest man in the world.”

“I . . . I want to know your Christian name,” she said.

“It is Fitzwilliam.”

“Fitzwilliam.” She said it slowly and lovingly, rolling each syllable in her mouth, earning another sweet kiss.

“I hope you do not mind . . . I am not quite in control of my rational mind right now . . . I may seem a bit odd. But I assure you, I plan . . . to return to my senses quite soon.” She spoke between short breaths as he continued trailing kisses on her hair, along her cheek and down her neck. She pulled away slightly and smiled. “I have never felt such a way! I have not been kissed before, and no one warned me how I would feel! I must admit, I would like to try it again. Perhaps I will improve sufficiently to keep my wits about me.”

Darcy laughed. “I was always attracted to your wit, my dearest.”

“My father will be surprised at our engagement. After Mr. Bingley courted Jane for a month, I think he expected that you wished to court me.”

“As much as I admire your father’s wisdom, I do not desire a formal courtship. I know my heart, and I feel I have seen enough of yours to know that you are the one to fulfil me, and I am grateful that you have paid me the compliment of accepting my suit. I wish to be married as soon as possible. I fear you will continue to tempt me with amorous kisses while your father insists upon a long engagement!”

“Perhaps you might kiss me again before the others catch on to our secret and insist we are not to be allowed alone together!” she said with such a manner of sweetness and archness that he could not resist. He pulled her body to align with his, parted his lips and encouraged hers open with gentle tugs on her lower lip. He touched his tongue to the inside of her lips and was pleasantly rewarded when she responded by imitation of his movements, moving her tongue to meet his.

Elizabeth experienced all that came with the newness of their relationship, the sense of wonderment from all the feelings in her heart and the unexpected response of her body to his touch. Tension coiled low in her belly as he pressed up against her. She felt him tighten his grasp and run his fingers along the seam of her back until they lightly caressed her buttocks. Her nipples felt tight, there was dampness between her legs, and she felt a hardness moving against her.

At length, Darcy broke the kiss and turned away from her. She stood there confused, knees weak, aching for the feel of his body against hers again, but unable to speak to request it. She gradually became aware of her situation as she relaxed her panting breaths and noticed that Darcy’s breathing seemed as laboured as her own. He returned to her and gently gathered her back into his arms, holding her cheek against his neck.

He murmured into her hair, “I am sorry, my love, I let my ardour overpower us. Are you angry with me?”

“No, no, I love you. Are you angry with me?”

He smiled. “Elizabeth, as much as I would like to continue in this manner, I have imposed upon you in a very improper way. We should not kiss like that until we are properly married.”

“I hardly think that you are correct,” she said playfully. “You must give me leave to
insist
that we kiss like that as often as possible from now on!”

He could not deny so enticing a request, and the moment became more heated. He struggled between his sense of propriety and his baser needs. His hands once again moved to her buttocks, and this time they remained, pressing her body against where his manhood strained his breeches. When he felt her moan against his mouth, somewhere in his lust-fogged brain, he recollected that her father was his friend, and some level of respect was due. With reluctance, he broke the kiss and gently pulled them apart. Once they were able to control their breathing, Darcy took her by the hand to a nearby bench. She snuggled up beside him, and he placed an arm around her.

He recalled what she had said earlier and asked, “What were you about to say concerning Wickham, Elizabeth?”

“I think I saw him near the garden at Hunsford.”

Lines etched into his forehead. “You are sure it was Wickham? When did you see him?”

“Yesterday, after you returned to Rosings, I heard a sound behind me and looked to see what it was. I thought I saw Mr. Wickham, but then Charlotte called to me, and when I looked again, he seemed to have disappeared. I wanted to warn you of his presence in the neighbourhood in case he was once again setting up credit and leaving you to pay his debts. I cannot understand why he seems to follow you wherever you are.”

“Do not worry yourself on my account. I will check with the tradesmen in Hunsford just to be safe. If you see him again, please let me know, but do not allow him near you. He is dangerous.”

“I promise to take care, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth said, gently stroking the side of his face. Her use of his given name earned her yet another kiss, which ended by his threading soft kisses down her neck, effectively distracting her from the topic at hand. After a few moments, Elizabeth recalled something.

“What did you mean about the unsuitability of my family? I know that we move in different circles, but if I had not already been inclined towards you, I would see fit to chastise you harshly for those arrogant words. It seems to me that you might have some improper pride! My first job as your wife will be to teach you to be more benevolent with others that you see as beneath you.”

“I am properly humbled, and I shall look forward to the lessons. I must once again apologise, my dearest; there is no unsuitability of your family. There never was, and you are correct; it was my foolish pride. I just wanted you not to be surprised by what your father is to disclose.”

“But what has my father told you? Why are you to be present at Longbourn?” she asked. “Jane said we must both go home post-haste regarding our settlements, but she did not go into specifics. My father mentioned that you have been privy to some of the legal aspects regarding my inheritance from my birth parents.”

“I have the same information, but I think we should leave it to your father to tell you if there is more.”

With the intention of distracting her from that train of thought, Darcy kissed her again, nibbling, tasting, savouring. This time, Elizabeth was bold enough to slide her hands around his waist under his coat. One of Darcy’s hands moved to cradle her head but when the other once again strayed towards her bottom, he knew it was too much and pulled back to look into her eyes. Her flushed face and lack of words proved his conjecture correct. He leaned close and murmured into her hair, “My love, we have been alone together much too long for propriety’s sake. Are you well enough to return to the others?”

“I will be in a moment,” she said. She adjusted the pins in her hair and smoothed the wrinkles from her gown, while calming her breath.

“It would be best if you go back first while I right myself, and I can follow in a few minutes,” he said.

She arose, looking at him with a glow of sweet animation, leaned over to give him a chaste peck on the lips and then scampered back towards the house. His eyes followed her the entire way.

***

“I do not know why you are so happy at the news!” the young woman said to her lover. “She returns to Hertfordshire the morning after tomorrow! There is no more time!”

“There is still plenty of time to do it,” he replied. “The advantage now is there will be little time between the incident and her departure, thus less time for questions to be asked. You must ensure she does not leave before it happens. Does she still walk out alone?”

“Sometimes, yes. She did just this morning. Mr. Darcy usually arrives to accompany her but he is not always there until she is well on her way. A servant goes to fetch him whenever she walks farther than the garden.”

“I have to catch her once she is no longer within sight of the house, but before Darcy shows. I cannot be recognized or captured when I importune her.”

“I wish you would try one of our other plans. I do not like this idea of your compromising her,” she whinged.

“The other plans will not work if she is in Darcy’s care on the trip,” he said tersely.

“What will happen if she does not report it to her father? I think I should be there as a witness.”

“I disagree. There should be no witnesses,” was his retort.

“How can you be assured that he knows you have retaliated against his ill-use of you? Someone has to tell him, else how will he call you out?”

“I do not wish to duel him, just to have satisfaction.” The exasperation showed in the tautness of his facial muscles.

“Do you want the satisfaction of revenge or the satisfaction of having Miss Elizabeth?”

“Jealous, my dear? Do not worry; as much as she is a delectable creature, I do not plan to fully bother her. Just a little cuddle, maybe a torn dress—enough for her to be compromised.”

“I would be witness to that.”

“No. I will not risk anyone seeing you or me,” he said, with a warning in his voice. “I want her to blame Darcy for the liberties taken against her.”

“How do you plan to do that?”

“I will accost her from behind, wearing Darcy’s coat and cuff links. Even if she turns, she will see Darcy’s handkerchief over my face. I will drop the handkerchief nearby when I make my escape.” He was self-satisfied with his devious plan.

“So Mr. Bennet will call out Mr. Darcy?”

“When she tells her father of the assault, the man will not be able to keep his mouth shut, just as he abused my reputation in Meryton. He will confront Darcy and insist on a marriage. Darcy’s blasted pride will never take the insult, and he will call out Bennet for the slander against him. Then I will have my revenge on both, and Miss Elizabeth will be ruined for her part in it.”

“What happens if she pulls away the handkerchief and sees that it is you? Mr. Bennet will surely call you out, and Mr. Darcy may as well if he knows you were trying to impersonate him.”

“I have no reason to hide from them,” he boasted. “I can best either man with pistols or swords, and they know it. So there is nothing to worry about. Now, can you get her to walk out alone tomorrow morning?”

“I will suggest it to her. She will be in need of fresh air or to say goodbye to the lovely Kent countryside or some such thing.”

“That is a good idea.”

“I could bring her here myself and stop walking with a complaint of a stone in my shoe,” she suggested. “Then I can accuse Mr. Darcy of having accosted her.”

“No, we do not want Darcy challenging you; his word would be taken over yours. Darcy’s handkerchief will be telling enough. Just make sure she walks out and comes here alone. No one will see us here.”

“As no one can see us now, my darling.”

“You would like me to compromise you again, my dear?”

She giggled as he started to kiss and fondle her.

“I would, dear Wickham!”

***

10 April 1812
Hunsford, Kent

Elizabeth felt all the close quarters of the parsonage as she finished packing her gowns for the trip back to Hertfordshire. She was uneasy about dinner that evening and the likely queries from Lady Catherine regarding her hasty return home a week before her intended departure, particularly because she could not respond with any degree of composure given her limited knowledge of the situation at Longbourn, her unannounced betrothal, and her dear wish to hide any and all facts from Lady Catherine.

So with this weighing heavily on her mind, she decided to go for one last stroll through the park. She also hoped to encounter Mr. Darcy. Perhaps they might have a chance to share some furtive kisses before they were to depart.

She looked about her at the budding trees and thought how much spring had taken over the landscape during her short visit. She strolled more slowly than was her wont, taking it all in so as to preserve the memory. She enjoyed the beauty of the park as she ambled along, daydreaming about a warm set of eyes and kisses full of the promise of future passion. She looked about casually for signs of his coming to join her, but saw no trace of him.

She was just out of sight of the parsonage when she heard quick footfalls behind her. She turned, anticipating her betrothed, and recognizing his coat, she smiled but was puzzled that he held a handkerchief over his face. She had no time to process the thought as, in an instant, he darted towards her, and she realized his movements were not familiar.

Elizabeth was caught unprepared by the realization that this was
not
Mr. Darcy. She narrowed her eyes and automatically stepped back, her hands out in a defensive manner. As her attacker advanced, she turned to run but lost her balance and started to fall. He grabbed her from behind, wrenching her arm as he pulled her backwards, trapping her against his body.

Elizabeth’s mind whirled with terror as she struggled for release, grasping and pulling at the arm around her waist, but her attacker held fast. Pain shot through the arm held behind her back, and her fear escalated as she understood the precarious position she was in. She cried out for help without realizing if she were caught in this position, it could compromise her. Thrashing about, she suspected that her attacker was Wickham.

“Unhand me, Mr. Wickham!” she said in a panicked voice, in hopes of frightening him off when his identity was revealed. This had the intended effect, startling her attacker into loosening his hold on her waist, but only for an instant. As she twisted in his arms, Wickham grabbed at her, roughly catching her wrist once more and tearing her spencer. She fought back, scratching at his face and trying to back away, but he captured her other wrist painfully. Her mind was racing, frightened of what he would do next.