Cursing himself for a fool and determined not to misunderstand her, Darcy returned her reluctant gaze, heartened when she returned his slight smile. “Is aught amiss, Miss Elizabeth? Other than what just happened between us?”

  For a moment she did not respond, then she sighed and shrugged. “My family did not just show themselves in the best light, Mr. Darcy.”

  Amazement flowed through Darcy’s veins. “After I just kissed you in front of your family and without permission, you think to concern yourself for my opinion of your family?”

  This seemed to strike Miss Elizabeth as rather amusing, for she laughed even while she gave him a helpless shrug. “When you put it that way, it seems rather absurd, does it not?” She looked up at him, mirth plain in her laughing eyes and added: “You should know, sir, that my aunt is among Meryton’s foremost gossips, and the woman she mentioned when she left is even more loose with her tongue than my aunt. There will not be a person within five miles of Meryton who does not know what happened by dawn tomorrow morning.”

  Shame flooded through Darcy, affecting him to the extent he could do nothing but offer a soft exclamation of surprise in response. Miss Elizabeth turned to regard him, a question on her countenance.

  “Even if there were no one present who would bear tales, you must have known rumors would spread. Why did you do it?”

  Darcy shrugged, uncertain himself. “In truth, I cannot say, miss Elizabeth, except to say it seemed to be the best way to silence them all.”

  Again, this struck Miss Elizabeth as hilarious, for she laughed, drawing Darcy along with her. “Then you seem to have been correct,” said Miss Elizabeth in her mirth. “It was very effective.”

  Then the woman grew pensive, displaying a mercurial change of moods such that Darcy might never have thought she could. When she turned her attention back on him, it seemed to him she was feeling more than a little asperity.

  “I suppose I should be angry with you, sir. Your gambit may have succeeded, but I am unaccustomed to being treated in such a cavalier fashion.”

  “That was the furthest thing from my mind,” replied Darcy. “If you consider it, your mother spreading rumors of our engagement had decided the matter. Being engaged, kissing is now permissible, provided we do not carry it too far.”

  “And you do not think to kiss in such a way before several witnesses is carrying it too far?”

  “Perhaps it is,” said Darcy. “In the future, I shall endeavor to be more circumspect. There must be many paths on your father’s estate where we may lose ourselves enough to avoid being spotted while thus engaged.”

  “If we engage in it again,” said she, a sour note in her voice.

  “Do you mean to torture me by refusing to oblige me until the wedding?” asked Darcy, attempting levity.

  A glare was her response. “Yes. No.” She shook her head, more in confusion than anger, Darcy thought. “I do not know. What I do know, sir, is only this morning you proposed marriage to me, and while I did not accept, I now find myself with no other option than to marry you. It seems you have had your way because of everything that happened.”

  “Yes, it does seem that way, does it not?” asked Darcy, unable to keep smugness from his tone.

  Intelligent as she was, Miss Elizabeth could hear the self-satisfaction in Darcy’s words, and her countenance darkened again. Her expression might have frozen him solid if she could have done so. As it had worked so effectively before, Darcy decided to try it again, leaning down to press his lips against hers.

  At first, she stiffened in shock, her eyes wide, looking directly into his. With the softest of touches, Darcy’s hands rose of their own volition and pressed against her cheeks. As she began to relax under the pressure of his gentle ministrations, Darcy pulled away a little, easing the passion of his previous kiss to the lightest of feather touches. He nipped at her lips, teasing them, reveling in the softness, coaxing her to respond, and when she did, warmth flooded through Darcy, filling his heart with love for this woman. As before, she was untutored, but a quick learner, responding with perhaps more than she felt until he was tasting the sweetness of her mouth.

  It gave Darcy hope, filled him with a resolve to do whatever it took to ensure this precious creature received the best of everything. With such a response, which belied her stated feelings, Darcy knew there was something there they could build upon.

  When Darcy pulled away, he looked down into her face, flushed with their exertions, her eyes hooded, swimming with desire. For a moment, she gazed at him, and Darcy could not quite make out what was in the depths of her eyes. Passion, yes, but while he could detect no love, there was something there, a flicker of emotion and trust. It was enough for now.

  “You have done it again.”

  Darcy grinned. “It seemed like the best way to silence you, and since it worked so well before . . .”

  Those glorious eyes narrowed and flashed with ire. “Do you mean to forever be silencing me with kisses? Am I to lose every argument because you will not allow me to state my opinion?”

  “Miss Elizabeth,” said Darcy, hoping she could see how serious he was, “you may win every argument we ever have, so long as I am assured of your love.”

  The slightest crease formed between her eyes. “I hope you do not expect me to profess my devotion right now.”

  “No, my dear, I do not, for I know your feelings are not the equal of mine at present. But given how you have responded to my advances, my hopes have soared. I can see, at the very least, how much you enjoyed it.”

  Miss Elizabeth looked away, but Darcy caught her chin with one finger and turned her face back to his. She contemplated him, her eyes darting about his face as if attempting to take it all in.

  “You enjoyed it, did you not?”

  With a huff, she stepped back and looked about the lawn, though Darcy could see nothing noteworthy. It seemed her family had made good on their promise, retreating to allow them time alone—even her youngest sisters were not hiding around some corner, giggling at them as they walked the first steps to true understanding.

  “A kiss, Mr. Darcy,” said Miss Elizabeth at length, “does not a marriage make.”

  “No,” said Darcy, stepping closer again and catching one of her hands in his, caressing the back with his thumb. “But passion is not an inhibiting factor between a man and a woman.”

  A shake of her head preceded her softly spoken: “I suppose it is not. And for the record, I am certain you already know that I enjoyed it. I do not believe your ego requires any further stoking.”

  A smile stole over Darcy’s face. Cupping the hand he held, Darcy brought it to his lips, lingering over it, his nose detecting a hint of rose water she must have used on her wrist that morning. Turning it over, Darcy placed another slow kiss to her wrist, delighting in the way she shuddered from his loving care. At the same time, he noted she was becoming rigid and was reminded she was an innocent, one unused to such attentions. Perhaps it was best to pull back, to avoid frightening her with sensations which must be so new to her.

  “Please, Miss Elizabeth,” said he, holding her hand, secured in the crook of his arm, “will you not show me some of this wilderness which is so familiar to you?”

  “I will,” said she, turning her eyes back to him.

  They began to walk, passing through a stone archway into the woods beyond. There was not much to see at this time of year, though he thought it would be fine in the summer months. But such sights as there were could not distract Darcy from this woman by his side. Darcy fixed every attention upon her, along with the vow he had made to see to her happiness. It was with hope that he stepped forward with her, hope he had started on that path.

  It was a relief to Elizabeth that Mr. Darcy had suggested they walk the paths so well known to her. Though Mr. Darcy’s manner was everything loving and tender, it had all been so new to Elizabeth that she had begun to fear him. They were not even married yet, and already this man was taking such liberties with her! Where would it end? Through all their history together in which she had thought the worst of him, Elizabeth had always been of the opinion that Mr. Darcy was a gentleman. Could she have been mistaken?

  As they walked, Mr. Darcy prompted her to speak, asking questions of her home, and listening with careful attention to her responses. Elizabeth did her best to carry her end of the conversation, but her thoughts were clamoring for release, and only half her attention was spared for their conversation. Inside she was a tumbling mass of emotions, a jumbled mess she could not even begin to understand. The thought kept returning to her of a conversation Elizabeth had had with Charlotte more than once—that Mr. Darcy was a man accustomed to getting what he wanted. The question was, what did he want, and did she have the strength to resist him?

  “You have become silent yet again.”

  Startled, Elizabeth turned her gaze to Mr. Darcy, surprised when he once again pressed his lips to hers. But this time he did not kiss her long, his action a mere caress of her lips before he pulled away to gaze at her.

  “I was not aware I had stopped speaking.”

  Mr. Darcy shrugged. “It has happened several times since we began walking. I thought you needed to consider all that has changed.”

  Elizabeth felt a rush of heat to her face as she realized she had not hidden her introspection from him at all. The infuriating man then turned her face to his and captured her lips once again, though again it was a brief interlude. This time, however, it left Elizabeth wanting more and maddened when he pulled away again out of reach.

  “I hope your ruminations were not unpleasant.”

  Though a part of her urged her to inform him of the truth of her thoughts, something held her back. “Not all.”

  “Then do you still hate me?”

  “No,” replied Elizabeth at once. Mr. Darcy seemed to take heart at her quick response, but he did not speak. “I never hated you, Mr. Darcy,” said Elizabeth, realizing at once she spoke nothing less than the truth. “Sometimes you infuriated me, but . . . Well, it seems I have never been indifferent to you.”

  “Thank you, I think,” replied the gentleman.

  Elizabeth felt a little of her usual playfulness returning, and she fixed him with a mock glare. “I hope this will not set the tenor for our interactions.”

  “Because you disliked our activities?” asked Mr. Darcy, his eyes finding her lips. When she huffed in annoyance, Darcy chuckled and said: “It is permitted now, though we must take care to avoid going too far. I hope you realize, Miss Elizabeth, that we shall do nothing without your approval, though I hope you will continue to allow me these small liberties. I find I quite enjoy them.”

  “Like you asked my permission before kissing me the first time?” asked Elizabeth, arching an eyebrow at him.

  “No, that was without consent,” replied Mr. Darcy, shaking his head. “But if you tell me to stop, I shall not kiss you again until we are married.”

  The man appeared sincere, though there was little of contrition about him. Elizabeth considered the matter, relieved he had made her this promise, for it restored a little of her faith in his gentlemanly manners. And she had not disliked his attentions—far from it, in fact.

  “I suppose we may continue,” said Elizabeth, taking care to appear thoughtful with a hint of reluctance. A slow grin settled over his face. “You will stop if I become uneasy with what we are doing.”

  “The last thing I would wish is to frighten you away,” said Mr. Darcy. Turning, he faced her directly, and Elizabeth felt his seriousness was beyond the playful attitude he had maintained since the confrontation in the gardens. “I promise you, Miss Elizabeth, to do everything in my power to make you happy. I am cognizant that circumstance has forced your hand and your feelings at present are not the equal of my own.

  “But I will be patient and show my love for you in the hope you will one day respond with your own love for me. I will love you my whole life, regardless of what happens between us now. Do you think you might one day come to love me in return?”

  Mr. Darcy’s impassioned plea moved Elizabeth in a way she had not known was possible. A stray thought crossed her mind, that Mr. Darcy was plying her with pretty words designed to lull her into a sense of false security. The thought was absurd—why would he do so, considering the situation, being what it was, leaving her no other choice but to marry him? It was unfathomable. Elizabeth had always known that whatever else Mr. Darcy was, the man was honest. These words coming from his heart filled her with happiness, and the determination to deal with him as honestly as he had with her.

  “I believe, Mr. Darcy,” said she, feeling her voice choke up with emotion, “you have begun rather charmingly. Yes, it is possible.”

  A sense of mischievousness fell over her, and she grinned. “Do not suppose that I shall not require you to work for it, sir. You must know I am not a woman who will make matters easy.”

  “That, my dear Miss Elizabeth,” said Mr. Darcy, “would be unfathomable.”

  The gentleman leaned in and brushed his lips against hers again, a feather-light touch to show affection rather than take her breath away. When he pulled away again, Elizabeth kept her eyes closed, allowing herself to relish the feeling for the first time. When she opened them, it was to see Mr. Darcy still close, watching her.

  “Had you kissed me at the assembly, you may have convinced me then.”

  Mr. Darcy laughed, a delighted release of joy. “Then I should have judged better. You may be assured that I shall not make that mistake again and will kiss you as often as possible.”

  “I begin to believe I would like that,” said Elizabeth.

  After a time of this, the house beckoned, the lateness of the year chilling Elizabeth, leaving her longing for the warmth of the Bennets’ sitting-room. Mr. Darcy, it seemed, was of a like mind, for he led them there, entering through a back door, where Mrs. Hill and a maid met them. The housekeeper, who had long thought of the Bennet girls as her own charges, smiled at Elizabeth and motioned further into the house.

  “The rest of the party is in the sitting-room, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Hill.”

  Taking Mr. Darcy by the hand, Elizabeth led him back into the room where it had all started. Had it only been that morning? The gentleman looked about with interest, and Elizabeth was reminded he had not visited before that day and was not familiar with the house. They had almost reached the sitting-room when Elizabeth detected motion on the stairs, noting Mary descending. The girl looked at them, surprised to see Mr. Darcy.

  “Lizzy? What is Mr. Darcy doing with you? And you are holding his hand?”

  Elizabeth’s younger sister gaped at her with surprise for several moments before she seemed to realize what she had said. She dropped into a hasty curtsey to the gentleman with a little cry of surprise, saying: “I apologize for my rudeness, sir.”

  “There is no offense, Miss Mary,” replied Mr. Darcy, flashing her a smile.

  Though she seemed relieved, Mary was still confused. “When last I knew, matters were not friendly between you. What has happened?”

  Elizabeth studied her sister with surprise, reflecting she had not seen Mary since breakfast that morning. “Where have you been, Mary?” asked Elizabeth, though she knew it was not polite to answer a question with a question.

  “After breaking my fast I was fatigued and returned to my room to rest.” Mary fixed Elizabeth with an imperious glare. “Now, what has happened?”

  Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy exchanged a look, and both burst into laughter. Noting Mary’s offense, Elizabeth approached her sister and wrapped her in an embrace. “A great many things have happened, indeed. Let us go into the sitting-room. There, I am certain, all will become clear.”

  It was clear Mary was not certain, but she agreed, accepting Elizabeth’s arm and stepping toward the sitting-room. The chatter they could hear from outside the door ceased as soon as they entered, every eye focusing on them again. Elizabeth tried to give them a smile, but it felt weak to her, despite feeling better about the situation. With such members of Elizabeth’s family who were not accustomed to silence present, she knew it would not be long before the questions would begin.

  “Lizzy!” exclaimed Mrs. Bennet, rising from her chair and approaching them with evident concern. “Have you settled everything between you?”

  An embarrassed Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Darcy, noting the man’s grin with some annoyance. “Yes, Mama. Though I do not suppose there will not be many further conversations and clarifications between us, for the present, I believe we understand each other.”

  “Oh, heaven be praised!” cried Mrs. Bennet. She turned to Mr. Darcy and said: “I hope Lizzy has not been too impertinent, sir. Though she is a good girl, at times she tends to rattle on.”

  “That is one of the things I love best about your daughter, Mrs. Bennet,” replied Mr. Darcy, no one in the room missing his glance of utter devotion. “I doubt I will ever be required to guess at your daughter’s feelings, for she will inform me of them herself.”

  It was clear this overset all Mrs. Bennet’s beliefs concerning the proper behavior of a wife. Though she did not understand, Elizabeth knew she would keep her own counsel, not wishing to give Mr. Darcy any reason to reconsider. Not that he would, Elizabeth knew. But her mother, with years of utter terror of the entail behind her, would take no chances.

  “What has happened?” demanded Mary, sounding cross. “I do not understand.”

  Jane, taking pity on her younger sister, approached Mary and led her to a sofa. “I shall explain all to you, Mary, though you may not believe my account.”

 

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