She turned her head and gazed at him steadily. She did not reply immediately, and when she did, her voice was tender. “Thank you, William. I do appreciate you verbalizing an apology, but not because I needed to hear it. You proved your regret by everything you have done since Rosings. I forgave you long ago. For some reason, you needed to say it. I hope you can forgive yourself now?”
“You never cease to amaze me, Elizabeth.” Darcy shook his head and then sighed. “I think my guilt will never be repelled, and maybe that is beneficial. Your recriminations taught me a hard lesson, and thanks to your humbling, I am improving. I never want to forget how damned fortunate I am to have you in my life.”
“Oh, you do not need guilt for that, Mr. Darcy, as I intend to remind you every hour of every day just how fortunate you are!”
“Please do,” he laughed and tossed the apple core toward Parsifal.
“And, so we can lay this unpleasantness behind us once and for eternity, I apologize for my behavior. All teasing aside, I truly am sorry for misjudging you, for Wickham, for being endlessly rude, and—”
“No, Elizabeth, please. You were not at fault nor rude.”
“I beg to differ, sir! If you recollect in all honesty, I was horrid to you at nearly every turn! Impertinent, uncivil, my sharp tongue seeking to cause you pain. How you bore it all is unfathomable, let alone loving me through it.”
“I fell in love with you in part because of your liveliness of mind. Your wit is refreshing. If you were rude, I deserved much more for how ungentlemanly and unpardonable my behavior.”
“So then, are we to end our lovely interlude at Willow Bench with an argument as to who shares the greater blame for our actions in the past?”
“There can be no argument, since I accept the blame is wholly mine to bear.”
He meant it, but he spoke playfully and smiled. How could he not when she fixed her dancing eyes upon him and saucily cocked her head? She was utterly bewitching! Then she stood, casually crossing the shaded clearing toward him.
“We have two options, sir. The first is to add the topic of whose comportment was most abominable to the list of postponed arguments, after literature choices for women and the deficiencies in the justice system…” Elizabeth paused when Darcy laughed aloud at the last. He had completely forgotten their heated debate over London’s crime problems, that one occurring while she was staying at Netherfield nursing Jane, as had most of their disputes.
“The second choice,” she resumed when he regained control, “is for us to concur the entire matter is in the past. How about a treaty of peace and nullification? Does the latter sound preferential, Mr. Darcy?”
“Indeed it does, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Very well then, we are in agreement. A sweet blackberry to seal the bargain.” Abruptly she closed the space between them, the ripe berry held by her fingertips pressing against his mouth. Instinctively he opened, and the brushing touch of her downy skin over his sensitive lips followed by the burst of juicy sweetness sent a wild bolt of sensual pleasure through his body. It was all he could manage not to moan and crush her into his chest.
“As exciting as it can be to bicker with you, William, I am discovering harmony and obliging communication is richly satisfying.”
A second berry entered his mouth, Elizabeth’s fingertips lingering on his lower lip. If she only knew how that simple touch, and the faintly glazed expression in her eyes as she whispered about being satisfied, affected him!
“I conclude that our unexpected meeting today has been productive. We have forgiven each other and agreed that the misjudgments of the past year are behind us—”
Another berry passed his lips, Darcy barely tasting it with all his focus on her words, the close proximity of her body, and his struggle to remain composed.
“—we have agreed to move forward in honesty and accord—”
A caressing rub of her fingertips as one more berry was placed onto his tongue…God! Please let it be the last!
“—I learned more about you and Pemberley, and took a small step toward liking horses—”
Frantically he snagged the next berry from between her fingertips, and grabbed the handkerchief out of her other hand. Stuffing the latter into his pocket, Darcy masked his ragged inhale behind chewing the final blackberry and kissing her knuckles.
“Thank you for an extraordinarily wonderful morning, Elizabeth. It pains me, but we should say our good-byes for now. I do have some business to attend to before seeing you for dinner.” Praying for tact and grace, no small request considering his raging emotions, he sidestepped away from the tree while tucking her hand into the bend of his arm. “How should I dress for the theatrical tonight?”
“Casual evening attire is sufficient. It is not a formal affair at all. I do hope you are not expecting too much from our community of actors, William. Miss Grant is gifted, but I doubt Mrs. Siddons is fretting in her sleep!”
“My expectations are for a charming country production that will, by its contrast to a Covent Garden play, be delightful. Do not mistake me, Elizabeth. I adore the theatre and prefer a serious, professionally rendered play or opera for the comprehensive experience offered. Nothing can compare, of course. Nevertheless, entertainments presented by traveling troupes or local groups have a value and pleasure that is unique. Wait until you view the plays enacted by the parish children at Pemberley, always for Easter and Christmas, as well as other special occasions. I daresay nothing is more adorable and amusing than children acting out Biblical stories.”
“That sounds enchanting. I am pleased to hear this, and it eases my mind. I feared you would be bored or liken it to the worse torture imaginable.”
“Not at all. I hope to be entertained, but in truth, it will matter little. I shall deem each act delightful whether I attend to it or not because I shall be with you, dear Elizabeth.”
He kissed her knuckles again, added a florid bow and a tip of an imaginary hat, and ignored the frown flashing over her brow when he whistled for Parsifal rather than kissing her offered lips. If only she knew the battle being fought to resist! But it was definitely wiser not to initiate a kiss at this juncture and place.
He kept his promise not to jump the fence, riding on the Longbourn side until reaching the road and circling around. Once alone again in his chambers at Netherfield, he pulled the forgotten handkerchief from the jacket pocket where he had stuffed it. It was plain linen with narrow lace along the edge, and a red embroidered EB in bold script covering one corner. Inhaling, he could smell the blackberries as well as the lavender scent he long ago began associating with Elizabeth Bennet.
Smiling dreamily, he folded the square neatly and placed it onto the table by his bed. A token for our surprise encounter at Willow Bench.
* * *
Lizzy brushed her hair absently while contemplating her dreamy face reflected in the silvery surface of the mirror. The dim candlelight and flames from the fireplace were the only illumination in the darkness of her bedchamber, but enough to reveal her beatific countenance. She sighed, the sound almost a breathy giggle, and closed her eyes as a euphoric shiver rushed through her body.
What a marvelous day.
Waking that morning to a gloriously colorful sunrise and vivid azure sky set the tone, and beckoned Lizzy outside as soon as a hasty breakfast was finished. There, she discovered the air as fresh and crisp as imagined, and walking the trails through tall waving grasses invigorating. Every leaf seemed sharper and brighter than normal. The willows at her favorite secluded spot swayed serenely in the breeze, the autumn-yellowed leaves a vibrant curtain and carpet. An hour of quiet reading with only the scurrying of tiny squirrels and chipmunks or the occasional cry of a bird added another layer of happiness.
Then, the distant sound of hooves registered, and her happiness tripled. An unexpected and delirious interlude in the solitary company of the man she loved surpassed any possibilities dreamt of for her morning. Walking home with the sensation of his lips ting
ling her hands and mouth was sheer rapture, and the feeling held all through the afternoon and up until Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley’s arrival for dinner.
Sadly, the surprising inclusion of Caroline Bingley had dulled her joy. Invited to Longbourn several times since Jane’s engagement to Mr. Bingley, Caroline had extended thinly veiled, contemptuous refusals each time. Therefore, no one anticipated her accompanying the gentlemen on the night of an after-dinner community theatrical. Lizzy’s suspicions that Caroline was attempting to wrest Mr. Darcy away through seductive maneuvers were proven true by her outrageous display at the Netherfield dinner the night before. With her tolerance hanging by a thread, Lizzy barely hid her irritation, and even sweet Jane grimaced and greeted her future sister-in-law testily.
Assuming the evening was doomed to be ruined by Caroline’s harping, sneering remarks, and simpering at Mr. Darcy, it was remarkably fantastic. Oh, Caroline did all that and more, but Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy deflected her barbs, smoothly interrupted, or humorously flipped the comment around. More often than not, they simply ignored her, the Bennets following suit. That alone was enough to lift Lizzy’s spirits.
Best of all, Mr. Darcy held Lizzy’s hand during the performance, whispered questions as to the people involved, and honestly enjoyed himself, just as he said he would. Caroline’s pointless pursuit faded into oblivion.
A knock on the bedroom door brought Lizzy out of her woolgathering. It was Jane, as anticipated, and within minutes they were snuggled close by the fire with a blanket draped over their shoulders. A long-held routine after a particularly interesting day or evening, the eldest Bennet sisters gathered together in one of their rooms to talk and giggle. It was not unusual for one, two, or all three of their sisters to join them, but since Lydia’s marriage and their engagements, it was typically just the two of them, and no matter what topics they covered, their lovers inevitably were the main subject.
So after talking about their neighborhood friends and the comedic farce enacted to enliven an otherwise humdrum season of the year, the gentlemen were mentioned, this time by Jane first.
“Mr. Bingley said it was the most amusing play he has seen in ages. Undoubtedly he was being polite more than factual, yet he did laugh often and comment relevantly.”
“I suspect Mr. Bingley is amused easily compared to some. Not to imply his taste lacking or that he is less cultured. Rather that he possesses a gay heart and light spirit that loves laughter.”
“As do you, Lizzy. Indeed, that is a trait you have in common with my Mr. Bingley to a greater portion than me. I do delight in humor, but I am not one to openly express, as you and Mr. Bingley so readily can.”
“Perhaps in this we are mutually blessed. Mr. Bingley’s ebullience touches you, as mine touches Mr. Darcy. You are not as reserved as previous, and to my constant startlement, neither is Mr. Darcy.”
“I agree that Mr. Darcy appeared genuinely amused. His pleasure annoyed Miss Bingley profoundly. Her mouth pursed as if sucking lemons all night!”
Lizzy laughed out loud and hugged Jane. “Oh! How I do love it when an unforgiving commentary passes your lips! It is such a singular occurrence as to be noteworthy and of substantial weight. If you concluded Mr. Darcy’s true delight in the evening’s outing, then I can rest contentedly that my likewise conclusion was not merely the result of wishful thinking for it to be so.”
“Not at all. It was obvious, Lizzy. In fact…” Jane paused, a faint crease marring her brow. “Correct me if I am wrong or overstepping, but I believe Mr. Darcy, in an odd way, is easier to interpret than Charles…that is, Mr. Bingley.”
“Oh, Jane! I do think it is fine to address him by his given name, with me especially. I am curious what you mean, however.”
Jane hid her flush by adding another log to the fire, finishing the task before responding. “Charles is lively and unreserved, easy with everybody, and unfailingly good-natured. I love these traits, you understand, so am not criticizing—”
“Indeed not! Jane never criticizes. Except for keen observances of Miss Bingley’s puckered mouth, that is,” Lizzy teased.
Jane’s rosiness increased, and she went on as if Lizzy had not interrupted. “Charles’s perpetual amiability makes it difficult to decipher if his mood is less than delighted at any given moment. Granted our lives are steeped in happiness at the present, but even at the best of times, one has occasion to be sad or irritated, yes?”
“Yes, of course that is true. However, my guess is that Mr. Bingley’s natural disposition does not allow for sadness or irritation unless of a significant level, and then the negative emotions would be brushed aside or hidden behind a pleasant smile. In this, you and Mr. Bingley are akin: neither of you wishes to displease others or be displeased, hence the enviable ability to view everyone, and everything, as delightful. You are the optimist whereas I am the cynic!”
Jane smiled at Lizzy’s dramatic declarations, but she shook her head. “You are not cynical, Lizzy. You see the world and the people in it with a clearer vision and are unafraid to label accordingly. I cannot say I wish I were more like you, preferring to live in my sunny cocoon, as you once called it. Nevertheless, I now appreciate that shielding one’s thoughts behind a placid face or gay smile is debilitating and has the potential for misunderstanding.”
“My, you are full of deep intensity tonight, dear Jane. What has brought on this serious introspection?”
Shrugging, Jane answered, “Nothing untoward or of tremendous significance, merely honest observance. I wonder if my relationship with Charles might have followed a smoother path if I had been able to overcome my modesty to convey the depth of my sentiments. I truly never thought to do so and refused to heed Charlotte’s advice, or listen to your assertions of his affections, because my retiring nature insisted on interpreting Charles’s congeniality as universal and not special toward me.”
“In regards to events from the year past, we could forever point to our errors in interpretation and judgment, all four of us. Best for you and Mr. Bingley to leave it be, as William and I have agreed to do. Learn from mistakes, to be sure, then carry on. That is my advice, and since you once before chose to ignore your sister’s remarkable wisdom, you must do so now.”
Lizzy kissed Jane on the brow, both of them giggling like silly schoolgirls. Then Lizzy jumped up, crossing to a small table where a plate of cookies sat. Pouring two glasses of water and grabbing the plate, she returned to their roost by the fire. Two cookies and some idle chitchat later, Lizzy resumed the previous topic, “I do understand what you meant by Mr. Darcy’s moods being easier to interpret than Mr. Bingley. It was not always so, of course. Preconceived conclusions and erroneous translations were the hallmarks for both our relationships, Jane. Yet there were those, myself included, who knew Mr. Bingley cared for you. No one, however, had any idea that Mr. Darcy regarded me with special interest. Least of all me.”
“You did tell me that Charlotte hinted at it.”
“Yes,” Lizzy answered slowly, “she did. Although at the time it seemed highly incredible. I laughed the concept away, and Charlotte came to agree that Mr. Darcy’s demeanor was not consistent with a man in love.”
“Obviously you were both wrong.”
“I daresay we were.” Lizzy chewed a bite of cookie and picked at the crumbs on the plate. “As I grow more familiar with William, I realize his cool demeanor is normal, yet also a façade erected to control, and perhaps hide, his spirited nature. He is a man of uncommon feeling, Jane. Far more passionate than he appears.”
“Why does he hide, do you think?”
“For similar reasons as you, Jane. William is shy, although not to your degree, and he does not desire having attention called to him. Largely I think it is because he despises artifice. Rather than acting contrary to what he may be feeling about a person or situation, he has perfected a neutral, aloof mask. Obviously this has served him well for nigh on thirty years, while also causing troubles. I see this as why he now strives to be cle
arer.”
“Precisely my point. He is impassive a great portion of the time. Thus, when he baldly expresses an emotion, it is transparent. When it comes to you, he makes no effort to disguise his delight and love. He is permeated with good humor and it colors everything, even a county theatrical. No wonder Miss Bingley was annoyed!”
Lizzy emitted a rude sound. “Caroline is an irritation I am fighting to be patient with. You have no idea how often I bite my tongue, and the urge to respond violently is harder to suppress with each passing day. If not for my promise to you and my sympathy for Mr. Bingley, I would have shoved her onto the floor when she sat next to William at the play tonight. The nerve!”
“You have a right to be angry, Lizzy. If it is any consolation, Charles is vexed by Caroline’s actions. I fear his tolerance may soon end.”
“Has he said this to you?”
“No. I do not discuss Caroline with Charles. I have no wish to hurt him, so remain serene and do all I can to assure that I am unfazed by her bitter words.”
“Are you? Unfazed, that is?”
Jane sighed. “For the most part, yes. It is not her actual words that distress, but what they portend for our future tranquility. I harbor no concerns over Charles’s dedication and commitment to our marriage. Caroline is doomed to fail in her attacks on me, and you for that matter—just as she is doomed to fail in changing Mr. Darcy’s mind. So I pray daily her heart will soften before Charles—or Mr. Darcy—is forced to confront it directly.”
“Well, you continue to pray for Caroline while I continue to pray for personal restraint. Frankly, I do not think either of us will have our prayers answered before one of our fiancés takes action. God help her if it is William.”
Chapter Seven
October Showers
Exactly one week earlier, Darcy had awoke from a troubled sleep well before the dawn, his heart heavy and confused. As it turned out, that was the last morning for a long while that Darcy would wake in a depressive state. Within hours, his heart had soared and all traces of confusion evaporated. Elizabeth Bennet had declared her love for him and accepted his marriage proposal. The brilliant sunrise and richly blue sky on that October morning had been unable to compete with the resplendence inside his soul.