Alone with Mr. Darcy: A Pride & Prejudice Variation (9 page)

She swallowed hard, her mouth dry. What
could she possibly say in response? It was a good thing he could not see her
face. It might be all too obvious how he was affecting her.

“There, it is all free now, apart from the
braid. If you can be patient another minute, I will have the ribbon out.”

Another minute might be too much. She
might go up in flames by then.

His arm reached around her and dropped a
ribbon in her lap. Before she could say anything, he resumed combing her hair.
Or was it combing? She felt her hair being raised. He was running his fingers
slowly through it from below.

Shivers ran down her spine, or perhaps it
was a line of sparks. “What are you doing?” she asked, her mouth dry.

“Making certain all the tangles are out,”
he said huskily.

He was definitely taking more time than
was necessary. She knew she ought to object, ought to tell him to stop, but
somehow the words were stuck in her throat. As if it had taken on a life of its
own, her scalp tingled with each movement of her hair. Then she felt something
soft and warm caressing the back of her neck, and an exquisite sensation
cascaded through her from that point. Her eyes drifted closed involuntarily. At
least her face was in shadow; he would not be able to see her expression.

Then she gave a cry of pain as sharp,
stinging pain intruded on the swell of sweet sensation. She clapped her hand
down on her injured thigh, capturing a furry paw.

Darcy dropped her hair instantly. “My
deepest apologies. I had no intention of causing you pain.”

The cat batted at the ribbon hanging down
from Elizabeth’s lap, managing once again to snag her claws through her skirt.
“
You
did not hurt me. That honor goes to your protégée, Miss Snowball.
She seems to think my hair ribbon is a toy and my lap is a pincushion.” She
ought to be grateful. Who knows what might have happened had the cat not
interrupted them? Could she have mustered the strength to tell Mr. Darcy to
stop?

She took a deep breath and turned toward
Darcy, but the words died in her mouth as she saw him staring intently into her
eyes with obvious longing. She had to swallow hard before she could say, “Her
claws are remarkably sharp, no doubt from hunting mice in the woodpile. I… I
thank you for your assistance.”

“It was my pleasure – totally my
pleasure. You do not know how I have longed to touch your hair.”

Forcing herself to break eye contact, she
said lightly, “Likely you did not anticipate dealing with snarls, though!” She
picked up the ribbon and drew it slowly across her lap, hoping Snowball would
claw her again and bring her back to her senses.

Instead, the cat caught the ribbon in her
teeth and tugged it away, then leaped onto Darcy’s lap and began to purr.
Elizabeth would have to find her own courage to resist his charm – but
she wished it was her instead of Snowball he was caressing.

***

Elizabeth entertained herself for the next
half hour or so by trying to recall as many of Mary’s favorite quotes from
Fordyce’s Sermons as she could. Not that it helped her stop wishing for things
she could not have, but at least it kept her mind occupied and provided a
reminder of society’s expectations. Who would have thought she, Elizabeth
Bennet, would ever require such a reminder? Till being stranded with Mr. Darcy,
she had never truly known her own weaknesses.

Finally she could delay going to bed no
longer. She felt inordinately clumsy as she settled herself on the straw
pallet, careful to lie as close to the edge as she could to leave as much room
as possible and facing away from the remainder of the pallet.

Darcy put a fresh log on the fire, then
stepped past her. The straw pallet rustled as he took the place beside her.
Although she could not see him, she was acutely aware of his presence and his
lingering of spice and musk.

It took a tap on her shoulder to make her
look at him. He lay propped up on one elbow, the firelight playing in red
shadows across his strong features. His expression was serious. “Warm or cold?”

She bit her lip. Time out of time. “Warm.”

A smile lifted the corner of his lips as
he lay back and extended his arm. She snuggled in beside him, resting her head
on his shoulder, in the spot which seemed to be made just for that. When she
reached up to brush a lock of hair out of her eyes, her hand touched his,
sending a shock all the way down to her toes.

Darcy wrapped her hand in his, then rested
them both on his chest. It felt natural, and far too pleasing. Somehow she kept
her voice from trembling as she bade him goodnight.

His lips pressed lightly against her
forehead. “Sleep well, sweet Lizzy.”

Although she stayed still, in a feigned
sleep, it was at least half an hour before sleep claimed her as she listened to
the steady beat of his heart, still feeling the spot his lips had pressed. But
it was much longer before Darcy joined her in that state.

The first thing to cross Darcy’s
consciousness was an awareness of the presence of sunlight. Even with his eyes
still closed, he could see it and feel the strangeness of it. He always awoke
before the sun was up. The warmth in his arms was the next thing to register.
He did not need to open his eyes to recognize Elizabeth Bennet. Her arm was
across his chest, and during the night he had apparently captured her leg
between his. Now that was a sensation he intended to enjoy! This was an
excellent way to wake up to a new day.

Except for one thing. If the sun was
shining, then the storm must have ended; and if the storm had ended, he would
have to let Elizabeth go. That was not acceptable. As his arms tightened around
her, he realized from the sound of her breathing she was not asleep.

So she had awakened first, but stayed in
his arms? That shocking thought was enough to make him open his eyes. The room
was more brightly lit than he had ever seen it, and it was silent. No roaring
of the wind, no crackling of the fire. Just Elizabeth in his arms.

She shifted her head as it lay on his
shoulder. “The quiet seems almost eerie, does it not?”

“Who would have thought you would miss the
sound of the wind?” he teased.

“Mmm. Well, I do. It is too quiet.” And
she still made no effort to leave his arms.

No. He was not going to attempt to make
sense of her behavior, and he was most certainly not going to suggest marriage
again. That was how he had landed in trouble yesterday. He should just take the
moment as the gift it was, and not think about the separation which was bound
to follow.

He raised his head enough to see her face.
Her expression was unreadable, but the relaxation of her body against his spoke
of contentment, or perhaps it was something more. His own body was certainly
thinking of things beyond contentment, and was becoming more demanding about it
by the minute, but he did not want to endanger this precious time.

Except for one thing. If he had to say
goodbye forever to Elizabeth Bennet in a very short time, he wanted to kiss her
again first, a kiss which did not end with the image he could not forget of her
pressing her hands over her ears and squeezing her eyes shut to block him out.
No, he wanted a kiss he could remember without pain, that he could replay in
his mind during long, empty nights without her.

He shifted his arm until he could reach
her chin and tip it up with his forefinger. She did not fight him, and her dark
eyes looked steadily into his, her lips slightly parted. There could be no
doubt; she was expecting him to kiss her, neither inviting it nor avoiding it,
just waiting.

That was good enough for him. He tipped
his head towards hers slowly, savoring the anticipation as well as giving her
the chance to pull away, but she did not move until his lips finally touched
hers. Then her hand tightened on his shirt as she met his passion, straining
against him as if she, too, had been longing for this moment.

It did not matter that he was trying to
hold back, trying to limit the intensity of this kiss to avoid the explosion of
passion of the previous night. He could keep the kiss slow, but the power of
tasting her essence made him burn. How easy it would be to drown in her kisses?
He nibbled her lip, exulting in how it made her shiver. 

But he had to stop while he still could.
Regretfully he drew back. “We should be going,” he said gruffly. “There is no
telling when someone might come this way.”

She stiffened, then looked away. “Of
course.” She sat up, flipping her plait over her shoulder. “At least all of our
clothes will be dry to start out with.”

“That will help.” He took one last deep
breath of the air they had shared, then rose to his feet. If he looked at her
now, he would not be able to stop himself from trying to kiss her again, so
instead he started to prepare to depart. First his topcoat, then his heavy
greatcoat. Today he fastened all the buttons on it, as he had not the previous
day when he had shared it with Elizabeth. Next came his top hat and gloves.

How could it take so little to be ready to
leave behind all the hours they had spent together? They were still wearing the
clothing they had arrived in. He chanced a glance at Elizabeth who was folding
the quilt, already in her pelisse and bonnet. It took him a moment to realize
what was wrong. She had not put her hair up, but instead left it loose and
stuffed it inside the collar of her pelisse.

She must have seen his surprised look. “It
is quite improper, I know, but I have no scarf, and it will help to keep my
neck warm.”

“Very sensible,” he said gravely. It would
not
be sensible to go to her and pull her hair free, run his fingers
through the silky length, and kiss her until she was senseless.

He dug in his pocket and pulled out a
handful of silver coins, then piled them neatly on the table. The food and
firewood they had used would likely have lasted the frugal tenants for a week
or more, and they should have fair recompense. He took one last look around the
room, trying to commit it to memory. Something small protruded from the
bedroll. Stooping, he discovered it was a violet hair ribbon. He glanced up.
Elizabeth was facing the other direction and pulling on her gloves. Quickly he
gathered up the ribbon and stuffed it in his pocket.

“I hope you stay warm, Snowball.”
Elizabeth reached down to scratch the cat’s head, then straightened and said
crisply, “Are you ready?”

“Yes.” As ready as he would ever be.

When he lifted the latch, the door moved
inward of its own accord, fluffy snow spilling over the lintel. It must have
piled up by the door during the night. He kicked it out of the way and stepped
outside into a blindingly white world.  Beyond the open fields, trees were
piled high with snow, and he could see ridges which might be buried fences.

A flash of white fur moved past him and
leapt off into the snow. “Snowball!” he called. Was she to die of cold after
all?”

“She will be well enough. Cats are good at
finding places to stay warm, like woodpiles. And she clearly did not care to
remain inside.” Still, Elizabeth looked after her wistfully.

“At least she does not seem to have
difficulty managing in the snow.” He stomped down a small area on the doorstep
and stepped aside to allow Elizabeth to pass.

She peered around him and gasped. “This is
what I imagine the sea would look like, only blue, and in motion.”

“It is indeed a veritable sea of snow.” He
pushed his way through the drift of snow. Even beyond it the snow rose to the
top of his boots.

“I have always wished to see the ocean,
but since I have never been fortunate enough to visit the seaside, this will
have to suffice for me.” Elizabeth lifted her skirts and followed him, picking
her way gingerly in his footprints.

Now what were they to do? It had been
snowing fiercely when they arrived, and any landmarks had been long since
buried. “Which way is the road?”

“It is…” Elizabeth pointed to the right,
but then lowered her hand, her head turning from side to side. “I think…if
those trees are the copse I came through, and that rise is Oakham Mount –
no, that cannot be correct.” She turned in a slow circle. “Of course! There is
the tip of the church steeple, so Meryton is that way, and the road must be
over there.” She shaded her eyes with her hand. “Yes, I believe I can see a
line which might be the hedgerow.”

It all looked the same to him, buried
under the blanket of snow. “We will try it, then. This may be slow going. Tell
me if you see anything you recognize.”

The snow was too deep to step over, so he
had to kick it out of the way to move forward. He could have gone a little
faster by himself, but he had to clear enough space for Elizabeth, who had the
double disadvantage of skirts and shorter legs. The snow must be well over her
knees.

Kick and step, kick and step. Who would
have thought snow could be so heavy? He hoped Elizabeth’s sense of direction
was good.

Fortunately, she was proved correct when
they finally reached the road. Darcy was beyond relieved to see tracks in the
snow where someone had come through on horseback.

When Elizabeth caught up with him, her
skirts kilted high, she said, “I think it may be some time before I feel the urge
to take a long walk on a winter’s day!”

Darcy pointed to the road. “It will be
easier from here, since we can walk in the path the horse has broken.”

Her breath made a frosty cloud. “I assume
it would be best if we proceeded separately from here.”

The words seemed to stab him. “If you
wish. I would feel better were you to go first, so if you run into any
difficulty, you need only wait for me. Would a quarter of an hour be enough
time?”

She cast her eyes down at his legs. “If
you do not walk too quickly.”

“I do not believe anyone can walk quickly
through this snow.”

“Very well, then.” She hesitated. “I
appreciate all you have done these last two days, and your willingness to
protect me, even if it is unnecessary.”

“You will contact me if
there are any repercussions to your reputation from your absence? I can be
reached at Darcy House on Brook Street in London.”

“If it seems necessary.” Still she waited,
as if somehow unwilling to leave him. “I wish you Godspeed.”

He conjured up the image of awakening with
her in his arms, then briefly stroked her cheek with his gloved finger.
“Godspeed, Miss Elizabeth.” The knot in his throat would permit no more. 

She met his gaze for a long moment, then
turned and trudged down the road. Away from him, away from this interlude,
towards a future in which he played no part. After so long in her constant
company, the emptiness she left behind was palpable. But it was no use. All the
arguments he had used in London against making her an offer still applied. He
had been able to set them aside when it seemed to be his duty, but she had refused
him. He could not justify any further effort. Pemberley and Georgiana needed to
come before his lust for Elizabeth Bennet. Besides, she had made her views
quite clear.

The silent, snow-covered landscape seemed
to reflect the bleakness in his heart. He checked his watch three times before
the promised quarter hour actually passed. If nothing else, he would do her
this last service of protecting her reputation. She had said there was a tavern
before the town; he would stay there for an hour or two until his appearance in
Meryton could not be connected with hers. 

His feet began the weary walk. His boots
pinched painfully where they had been soaked and then dried again. When he
returned to London, he would remove these boots and never wear them again. As for
his clothes, his valet would most likely think them beyond salvage. There would
be no reminders – none except a thin violet hair ribbon.

Even with the snow tramped down, the path
was treacherous in spots, requiring his attention to the placement of his feet.
But a flash of a familiar red in an otherwise white world caught his eye.
Elizabeth! Had he caught up to her despite his efforts to keep his distance? He
knew he should stop to give her more time, but he wanted to be with her so
badly his pace quickened. Then he realized she was moving towards him, not
away. 

Had she injured herself? He hurried toward
her as fear flashed through him. He should never have let her walk alone in
this snow, regardless of what she said. As he drew near, he could make out the
anguished expression on her face, and his heart threatened to stop altogether.
“Good God! What is the matter? Are you hurt?”

She stumbled toward him and launched
herself against him, her fingers biting into his shoulders as she pressed her
face against his chest. As his arms closed around her – how could he have
stopped himself? – her body shook, and it was not solely from the cold.
“Elizabeth, what is it? For the love of God, tell me what has happened!”

Her breathing was ragged. “I am unharmed,
but… at the tavern, when I reached it…” She drew in a sharp breath. “I opened
the door to go in, and I saw…there were men, officers, and… and a girl. They
did not see me, and I ran back. I do not…want to walk alone.”

At first he could not make sense of it. It
was a tavern. Of course there were officers and a girl, and even if Elizabeth
had walked in on a scene unsuitable for a maiden’s eyes, he could not imagine
her reacting to it with terror. She was too level-headed for that. Then he
understood. “The girl – she was not willing?”

“I
know
her.” As if that said it
all.

If the girl were an acquaintance of
Elizabeth, she must be gently born. He swore under his breath. “Come. I will
put a stop to it.”

“No! You cannot! There are too many of
them.”

He tightened his arms around her. “Even
so, they will listen to me.”

She shook her head without looking up.
“One of them is Mr. Wickham,” she said miserably.

Wickham! Of course, it would have to be
him. Under normal circumstances, Darcy’s rank would be all the protection he required,
but if Wickham were involved, and particularly if he were drunk, Darcy could
not depend on that. Wickham might take advantage of the situation and leave him
helpless. Whatever else might happen, Darcy’s first responsibility was to keep
Elizabeth safe. He should have been there to protect her from seeing what she
had seen, and instead he had let her go alone.  “Then there is nothing I
can do immediately. Who is she?”