To Conquer Mr. Darcy (7 page)

When Elizabeth finally felt mistress of herself again enough to glance at him, she saw the disturbance of his mind visible in every feature, and his face set in the grim lines she had only seen once before, when she accused him at Hunsford of destroying Wickham’s future. What had
he
to be distressed about? He had got what he wanted, after all; she was the one with the right to feel upset about what had happened. His assumption of her compliance reminded her of his proposal at Hunsford, and how he made his offer with the perfect conviction that she would accept him without question. Was it in fact any different now, apart from his going through the motions of courtship? He seemed to assume, at least until proven otherwise, that she would accept his caresses, his kisses, his familiarity—and no doubt his hand in marriage, in good time. And she had allowed it, one step at a time, allowed him liberties she had never expected to give anyone but her husband, and was beginning against her will to allow him inroads into her heart as well. He had changed his outward manner and made his admiration of her overt, and she had fallen into his hand like ripe fruit.

And now he had the presumption to consider himself the injured party! Well, this was as good a time as any to make clear that she would not continue to tolerate his forwardness. For once, though, she recalled her history of losing her temper with him before knowing all the facts, and forced herself to review the situation one more time before she spoke. In all fairness, she had to admit that she was to some extent responsible by her compliance, and that he likely would have respected her wishes had she told him to stop. Also, he did not, as a rule, have fits of the sulks without reason, though as often as not that the reason existed only in his imagination. She was predisposed to being annoyed with him; at least it took her away from her own thoughts, but she had no wish to be unjust to him as she had in the past.

She stopped and turned to him, her arms crossed across her chest. “Please enlighten me, Mr. Darcy,” she said, her impatience evident in her voice. “I have not the gift for leaping to the worst possible conclusion that you possess, so you perforce will have to explain to me whatever terrible possibility you have discovered this time.”

He looked at her in shock. He was quite unaccustomed to being spoken to in such a manner, and he found his temper flaring. In an automatic effort to quell it, he said coolly, “Miss Bennet, I am afraid that the heat of the moment is leading you to flights of imagination.”

He was quite mistaken if he thought that this would intimidate her from continuing her stand. “I am waiting, Mr. Darcy. I have no intention of walking all the way to Gadebridge Hill with whatever black beast you are carrying with you.”

His complexion became pale with anger. “And what of your own black beast, Miss Bennet? If I am not mistaken, you are not best pleased yourself.”

Ever able to see the humor of the moment, Elizabeth found the corners of her mouth twitching. “Mine is naught but a small grey creature of the night, sir. My question stands.”

Darcy came to the disturbing realization that he did not understand the rules of this sort of skirmish where honesty was demanded, and anger was met with wit. He watched her through narrowed eyes for a minute, absentmindedly noting how bewitching she looked with her eyes flashing in anger. “The thought had crossed my mind that you might be tolerating my attentions out of some mistaken sense of gratitude.”

Her eyes widened. “That is, indeed, an impressively far-fetched conclusion. I believe, in fact, that I am insulted.”

“Oddly enough, I am happy to hear that, although I had no intent to offend you.”

Her gaze continued to clash with his for a moment, but Elizabeth found it difficult not to soften when she saw the obvious relief that he felt, and, as they managed to smile at each other, decided that just now she did not want to think any more about what had happened, but merely to enjoy his company and the beautiful day. Recalling his gesture after their conflict on the day of Jane’s engagement, she held out her hand to him.

Although his face showed only a warming of his gaze, Darcy rejoiced at the step she had taken. Taking her hand, he drew her to his side, then raised it to his lips.

Elizabeth colored slightly. “I daresay that your sister will be disappointed if you are unable to tell her of the view from Gadebridge Hill.”

Not to mention that if we stand here any longer, I will end up kissing you again, and then we will be right back where we started,
he thought, as they set off hand in hand. “She will be more disappointed when she realizes that this is likely our last opportunity to walk out before the arrival of Miss Bingley and the Hursts. I fear that it may not be the same afterwards.”

“Perhaps if we select particularly muddy and long walks, we can fend them off, and it will not be so bad,” Elizabeth suggested lightheartedly. “But that is easy for me to say; I do not have to stay in the same house with them. I must remember to rescue Georgiana when I can.”

“She will appreciate it; she is often quite overwhelmed by Miss Bingley. In fact, I may need to be rescued as well,” he teased.

“You, sir, are perfectly capable of handling Miss Bingley with no assistance from me,” she replied, surprised by how content she felt walking so closely to him.

“Just as well, since you intend to desert us to her mercies soon enough. When are you planning to leave for your travels?”

“My aunt and uncle will arrive Monday and we plan to depart the next day.”

“It seems you are quite fond of your aunt and uncle.”

“Yes, I enjoy their company a great deal.”

“I would like to meet them, if I may.”

She glanced up at him, wondering if he realized that her uncle was in trade—she could not recall mentioning it—and if he would be so anxious to meet them if he knew. “If you wish,” she said neutrally.

“I do not believe that you ever told me of your new destination. Do you know where you will go, apart from the wilds of the north?”

Elizabeth colored, knowing that it was impossible to avoid the question once it was asked directly. “My aunt and uncle are setting the itinerary, and I do not know the details. My aunt has mentioned the Peaks, Matlock and Dovedale, and I believe she also plans for us to see Blenheim and Chatsworth. We will also be spending some time in a town in which my aunt spent her younger days. I believe you may be familiar with it; it is called Lambton.”

That Darcy was startled by her response was clear, and she did not doubt that he realized that she had deliberately kept this information from him. “Yes, I know it well,” he said slowly, “it is not five miles from Pemberley.” His mind jumped ahead to further possibilities—
She will be at Pemberley
! He had dreamed so often about Elizabeth at Pemberley that he could picture her there without any effort—it was almost as if she were already in residence there, but the Elizabeth of Pemberley was the one who looked at him with passion in her eyes, who whispered words of love to him, who cried out his name as he made love to her in the great four-poster bed. The idea of bringing the real Elizabeth to Pemberley was enough to make his heart race.

She stole a glance at him, trying to gauge his response, but his expression was distant. She felt a sudden urge to apologize, though what she had to regret in traveling so near his home was not clear, but she was troubled by his apparent withdrawal.
Well,
she thought,
I do not need his permission to enter Derbyshire; I may visit it with impunity if I choose.

She was determined to wait until he broke the silence, but as it went on and on, and she grew more and more uncomfortable to be walking hand in hand with a man who seemed to have forgotten her existence. Finally, she said, “Mr. Darcy, you appear to be miles away.” She did not desire any further conflict, so to remove any possible sting from her words, she tightened her hand around his for a moment.

He came back to himself from his reveries of having her by his side at Pemberley, of awakening in the morning with his hand tangled in her hair, of kissing her sleeping lips until she returned to consciousness with a passion that matched his own. He turned to the real Elizabeth with a rueful smile. “You are absolutely correct, Miss Bennet; my mind was far away in Derbyshire. My apologies for neglecting you.”

“And was your mind’s visit to Derbyshire fruitful?” she asked, her eyes sparkling as she gazed at him, just as he had so often pictured.

Bending his arm, he brought her hand to his lips in a casual manner, and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “That remains to be seen, my love,” he said.

“
Mr. Darcy!
” she said with indignation, ignoring an odd sensation deep inside her. “That is quite enough, I believe!”

He looked at her in startled dismay. “What is the matter?”

“What is the matter? Mr. Darcy, if I have in some way led you to believe that I am willing to accept this level of familiarity, I do apologize, as it was not my intention to mislead you,” she said vigorously, determined not to continue in the passive course she had set to date.

He released her hand immediately, his expression baffled and worried. “Miss Bennet, I deeply regret offending you in any way; it is my sole wish to please you, and I will certainly refrain from any behavior to which you object. I…” He tried desperately to think of further ways to apologize before he lost all the ground he had gained, and then, recognizing that honesty was his only hope, said more calmly, “I cannot say that I completely understand, but if you do not wish me to kiss your hand, you may depend on it that I shall not.”

She was quite surprised that he did not realize that his words were objectionable; in many ways it seemed more atypical of him to violate a social rule than to take liberties. “Mr. Darcy, my objection was to the overly familiar manner in which you referred to me,” she said tiredly.

Darcy, taken aback, immediately began to review the conversation in his mind, and then paled abruptly as he realized what he had said. “Miss Bennet, I apologize, indeed, I ought to grovel at your feet; you are quite correct to upbraid me. It was a complete slip of the tongue; my mind was elsewhere, and I did not realize at all what I was saying. I do know better than that, and I would certainly not have intentionally have embarrassed either of us in that manner, and…”

“That is quite an adequate amount of groveling,” Elizabeth interrupted with a smile, relieved by his obviously genuine embarrassment and regret. “I accept your apology, and shall not think on the matter again.”

Darcy kept his eyes fixed directly ahead of him. This was not going well at all; every effort he made seemed to lead to disaster. It would be a miracle if she was still willing to speak to him at the end of the day. Perhaps he should revert to his safer, old patterns and hold his tongue as much as possible to avoid making a fool of himself again—but no, she would think him uncivil in that case. He certainly needed to control his fantasies of her.

Elizabeth, seeing his struggle, decided to take mercy on him. “Mr. Darcy,” she said with laughter in his voice, “I fear that you are once again honing your skills at leaping to conclusions, and I must insist that you cease at once, and instead acknowledge that I am far too reasonable and pleasant a person to possibly dream up the sort of horrors you are capable of imagining.”

His lips twitched. “Are you laughing at me, Miss Bennet?”

“I would be sorely distressed if I could find no source of humor in you, sir,” she replied lightly. “And we are approaching our destination, and I hope we can remain friends long enough to climb the hill, so that we may save our breath for our exertions.”

Darcy tried to match her light-hearted tones with fair success, and they were able to proceed in accord with one another as they tackled the ascent of the hill. Darcy took full advantage of the roughness of the path to have the pleasure of helping Elizabeth past obstacles, and by the time they reached the summit, his good humor was restored.

Darcy invited her to sit on a flat stone that afforded a view of the countryside. She pointed out various towns and holdings as they sat side by side, Darcy taking pleasure in holding Elizabeth’s hand between his own and caressing it lightly from time to time. Elizabeth, feeling a combination of a warm contentment and an agitated excitement induced by his closeness and the remarkable sensations he seemed able to produce through his lightest touch of her hand, said, “Tell me something about yourself, something that I do not know.”

“What shall I tell you about?”

“Whatever you like. Perhaps you could tell me about growing up at Pemberley.”

He laughed. “Not Pemberley, please, or I will start having ideas you will object to again.”

Puzzled, she said, “Because of Pemberley?”

“I have an excellent imagination, Miss Bennet, and I recommend we change the subject immediately.”

Still mystified, she said, “As you wish. What shall it be, then? Tell me about going to university. Is that a safer topic?”

“Let me see, what can I tell you? I studied at Cambridge, and there were good times and bad. I missed home and my family intensely at first, since it was my first time away since I had attended the first year at Harrow, about which the less said, the better. After that I had tutors at home, since my mother, once she became ill, was reluctant to have me so far away, and I supported her in that for my own selfish reasons. Once I became accustomed to being at Cambridge, though, my studies were fascinating for the most part, and I could think of nothing better than being expected to read all day long. Some other aspects of university life were a challenge given how reserved I can be. I could not enjoy most aspects of undergraduate social life, the fashionable set and the parties. I kept to myself until I found some activities that suited me better. I made several close friends then, men whose company was more congenial to me, and we have remained friends over the years since then.”

“Which were the activities that suited you?”

He smiled in recollection. “I became a devotee of fencing, a practice I still continue when I am able, and which is well suited to me because I am not expected to talk while I am fencing. I also improved my expertise at billiards as well, for much the same reason, a fact that Bingley still has cause to regret.”