Falling for Mr. Darcy (15 page)

* * *

Mr. Darcy remained a few minutes to finish another glass of brandy after the colonel left the library before returning to the ballroom in a much lighter mood. He was feeling confident that, except for a necessary conference with Elizabeth’s father, he had done much to protect the people of Meryton from Wickham’s exploits. He strode through the ballroom until he could find a comfortable vantage point that allowed Elizabeth’s beauty as she danced to wash through him and rest his mind.

He did not plan to decide tonight on whether or not to pay his addresses to her. He had detected reluctance on her part and wanted to be certain of her regard before he did. He loved her and had never felt anything like this about another woman. The matter of her family weighed heavily on him, but for tonight, he decided that he just wanted to return to the warmth he felt during their dance and the first portion of their meal. So, with his worries forced to the back of his mind, he looked forward to the last dance of the evening with her. He would not contemplate anything else tonight except enjoying her company. He would consider her family tomorrow . . . or the next day . . . or the next.

Elizabeth’s mind was not so agreeably engaged. She still felt the sting of going from blissfully enjoying his company to seeing him retreat into himself at the impropriety of her family. They had often been a source of embarrassment, but her naturally cheerful disposition had always rescued her from their effect. Now, she could see the very real possibility that their behavior could cost her a love she was only barely starting to grasp with the best man of her acquaintance. When he came to claim her for the last set, she hesitated a moment before addressing him. “Mr. Darcy, I would understand, under the circumstances, if you would prefer to release your obligation to me for this set.”

Her sincere, timid, trembling voice caused him to take an involuntary step closer to her. He turned his back to block the view from the rest of the ballroom and, placing a finger under her chin, raised her downcast eyes up to meet his.

She watched his dark eyes as he spoke firmly to her, “I do
not
release you. I enjoy your company, and I asked you to dance this set with me so that I might end my evening on the most agreeable terms possible. I want the image of your smile to stay with me, and I want the music of your laughter and voice to be amongst the last sounds I hear before retiring this evening.” He paused and looked at her for a moment before adding, “Miss Elizabeth, will you do me the honor of this dance?”

With moisture gathering in her eyes from the relief caused by his declaration, she nodded her acceptance and bit her lip as he removed his hand from her face to clasp hers and lead her to the dance floor. She was more than halfway in love with him already, and she realized, with worry, that a separation now would cause a most acute pain. She looked at him as the music started and thought,
You, sir, are dangerous to my heart.

Their dance was spent in silent intensity as neither felt the need to speak as they had during their first dance. Their thoughts and feelings concentrated on the touch and release of the dance, and the quiet privacy it afforded. When the music stopped, both seemed slightly surprised by the people around them, as the room had seemed to grow empty in their private moment.

With gentleness, Mr. Darcy led Elizabeth off the floor and stood near her in an alcove off of the vestibule as she waited for her family to gather and depart. Their silence was made comfortable by the unspoken feelings surrounding them.

The Bennet family was one of the last to leave, and when a servant came to hand the ladies their cloaks, Mr. Darcy retrieved Elizabeth’s and tenderly draped it around her, tying the strings under her chin. He rested his hands on her shoulders for a brief moment before returning his arms to his side. She was so beautiful that he had nearly lost control. She blushed and was thankful that her family had already turned towards the door during his ministrations.

After one long look at her lovely face, Mr. Darcy bowed elegantly and said in a soft voice, “Good night, Miss Bennet.”

She waited until he finished his bow before smiling serenely up at him. “Good night, Mr. Darcy.”

She turned slowly with him to walk to the carriage. He and Bingley helped their particular ladies into the carriage, and if Mr. Darcy held her hand longer than was proper, nobody noticed in their happy musings of the evening. The gentlemen watched the carriage until it turned out of the drive and then returned to the house. Mr. Darcy immediately took the stairs up to his rooms in a deliberate attempt to avoid Bingley’s sister.

* * *

Mrs. Bennet sat in happy contentment as she mused over the events of the evening. Mr. Bingley was never far from Jane, and Mr. Collins spent most of the evening with Mary, much to her surprise. Mr. Darcy had danced twice with Lizzy, which was more than he danced with anyone else all night. The younger girls had delightful stories to tell of the officers, and she had spent the evening gossiping with the other matrons.

“So, Jane, what of Mr. Bingley?” she asked her daughter.

“Mama!” Jane blushed, but smiled happily while one of her hands reached for Elizabeth’s. “He did ask if he could call on me tomorrow.”

Mrs. Bennet’s excitement could not be contained in the carriage, and she spent the rest of the ride home mentally planning ways to allow the two of them a moment alone the next day.
Certainly all the man needs is a bit of privacy and he will get to the sticking point!

* * *

Mr. Darcy dismissed his valet as soon as he reached his dressing room. He would manage by himself so that he could be alone with his thoughts. He shrugged out of his tailcoat and rested it on the chair. Next, he removed his stickpin and replaced it in the jewelry case. He paused in pulling at the folds of his neck cloth and let his mind drift, bringing forward the sensations of their last dance. He remembered the exquisite twinge he felt as her hand drifted across his shoulders during the turns of the dance. His thoughts led him to the admiration he felt as he watched her pleasing, graceful figure step and turn about the dance floor.

He removed his cravat and loosened the buttons of his shirt as he sank into the chair with a low groan. When he had helped her with her cloak, he had wanted nothing more than to kiss her sweetly. Never had he wanted to kiss a lady good night before, and it had taken all of his control to stop himself. She was just too lovely. Their quiet companionship in the last thirty minutes of the evening had been a balm to his warring, tired mind. His hand drifted unconsciously to lie across his chest over his beating heart. He was pulled from his fantasies when he noticed an irregularity in the folds of the fabric. Curious, he looked down as he reached into his waistcoat pocket and removed the silver flower that had torn off Elizabeth’s shoe.

He smiled as he turned it around in his fingers. He had meant to return it to her so that she could repair her slipper, but he had forgotten. Now he was glad to have a piece of her to keep with him that evening since saying goodbye had been near torture. He raised the flower to his face, pressed it lightly to his lips and closed his eyes, returning to his memories.

After a few moments, he resumed his preparations to retire. He took up the small, silk flower again and looked at it happily before taking his pocket watch out of his jewelry case. Opening the lid of the watch, he kissed the flower before placing it tenderly behind the glass screen of the lid, opposite the clock face where a man might put a miniature of his wife or children. Now, every time he wanted to know the time, he would see the flower and think of her and that evening. He planned on checking the time quite often in the future. He liked the idea of keeping a part of her near him and close to his heart. He placed the watch back into its case and blew out the candles as he allowed that thought to lure him into a comfortable sleep.

Chapter 6

Sitting alone in his library, Mr. Bennet looked over the estate’s account books. Having been absent from the previous evening’s festivities, he relished the rare opportunity to enjoy the quiet of a sleeping household. Mr. Bennet did not usually attend assemblies and evenings out with his family, as he was generally more inclined to prefer the sanctuary of his library than the niceties of society. After settling a column in the book, he sat back in his leather chair, rested his hands behind his head and smiled as he looked towards the bay window and the view of the garden outside. He looked forward to these mornings when his family would sleep long after a late evening and he could enjoy the peaceful sounds of birds chirping and squirrels scavenging outside his study without the brumble of feminine chatter that usually welcomed his mornings.

A knock on the door interrupted his relaxation, and he smiled as he called to his favorite daughter, “Come in, Lizzy.”

“Good morning, Papa.” Elizabeth grinned as she entered and closed the door behind her before going to him and placing a tender kiss on his forehead.

“Good morning, my Lizzy. Why am I not surprised that you are up early this morning, my dear?”

Elizabeth smiled playfully and shrugged her shoulders. She sat on the bay window bench and looked out the window. Neither occupant of the room felt compelled to converse and instead enjoyed the morning sounds together for a while. Elizabeth smiled to herself as she considered her father a moment. She had awoken at first light as usual and stolen away to the library to share a moment with her father. She had done this since she was a little girl; there they would enjoy the peaceful calm of the morning and talk about whatever came to mind. She heard her father take up his quill to work on the books, and the sound caused her to look over her shoulder towards him.

Mr. Bennet was a man of nine and forty years with soft features that disguised his age. She loved the laugh lines around his eyes and mouth that betrayed him whenever he attempted to look stern. Elizabeth liked that she had inherited his eyes. They were always so expressive, and she often understood more from them than his words would reveal. She also had his dark, curly hair, though the years had turned his to a distinguished gray at the sides.

Mr. Bennet, detecting his daughter’s gaze on him, looked up at her and smiled. “Well Lizzy, did you enjoy the ball last night?”

She smiled slightly as she turned her face from him, but not before he saw the blush spread across her cheeks. He wondered at her reaction to such a simple inquiry. Usually, she would laugh and relate the events of the evening. They would chuckle at the foolish antics of their neighbors as she described the humorous scenes from the evening’s activities. Mr. Bennet’s brows rose and furrowed as he looked expectantly towards his daughter.

A soft, “Yes, Papa, the evening was very enjoyable,” came from the window seat.

He waited for more details but nothing more was offered. Elizabeth pretended interest in a particular tree outside the window as she tried to cool her suddenly flushed cheeks after a rush of memories washed over her. If she closed her eyes and concentrated, she could bring to her senses the memory of the pleasant scent Mr. Darcy wore and the vision of his elegant form. The image changed to one of his soft smile with a dimple visible as she sat beside him for supper. Occasionally, their arms had brushed against each other as they ate. The recollection sent a shiver down her spine, and she absently rubbed the goose bumps from her arms. Then she frowned as she remembered the way his dimple had disappeared when her sisters had disgracefully collided with his chair.

Mr. Bennet watched his daughter as a humorous smile played at the corners of his mouth. It instantly faded and his face lost a bit of its color when he caught her whispered question.

“Papa, how do you know if you are in love?”

It was not a question he had anticipated hearing any time soon. He struggled to form an answer as his mind had frozen at her inquiry. She remained turned away from him, and he was glad for it. He shifted in his chair, gathering his thoughts to answer, and looked again at her still form by the window. Immediately, his mind softened and his heart warmed. He stood and walked over to the window seat to sit beside her. Taking her hand, he looked at her until she slowly turned her eyes to him.

“Oh sweetie, I . . . well . . . ” He struggled for words and finally, squeezing her hand, said, “Why don’t you tell me about it.”

As a father, he was not sure he really wanted to hear that his daughter had fallen in love. It was an impossible dilemma. Someday he wanted her to find someone to love and care for her, but he had his doubts as to the possibility of anyone being worthy enough. He was saddened at the thought of his little girl sharing with another man the heart that belonged to her papa.

Elizabeth lowered her eyes and spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her words. “I do not know. There is this gentleman and . . . ” Here she raised her impish eyes briefly to him, indicating she was not yet willing to divulge a name. She continued, her words starting to spill out of her at a quickened pace, “Well, when I am with him, my heart beats wildly, my mind goes from flashing dozens of thoughts to nothing at all and back again, and when I look into his eyes, a tingle surges up and down my spine.”

Mr. Bennet wanted to frown, but he schooled his face to remain indifferent, even as part of him was amused at the delightful way she had waved her hands around in front of her while attempting to describe her feelings. Another patriarchal dilemma: he did not enjoy hearing his daughter relate feelings and
bodily
reactions invoked by a gentleman. He breathed deeply and tried to remind himself that it was bound to happen someday. He had just hoped to be dead before finding out his daughters were attracted to the undeserving opposite sex. And in his mind they were all undeserving. He had been a young man once and, well . . . he just would not — nay, could not — go there.