Darcy & Elizabeth: A Season of Courtship (Darcy Saga Prequel Duo)

  Then, as he hesitantly stepped closer, she detected a tentative light warming his eyes and a faint relaxing of his facial muscles. Never removing his gaze from her face, he inhaled shakily, his voice husky and tremulous as he continued with his declaration. Shivers raced up her spine as he revealed his love for her, claimed with conviction that his body and soul were bewitched by her, and divulged his wish to never be apart from her.

  Some might argue that a proper marriage proposal it was not. To Lizzy his words were the sweetest music.

  Perfection.

  So perfect that she was overcome with the desire to freeze the moment, ensuring she would never forget the tiniest detail or nuance. It was the nakedly pleading expression on his face that made her gasp through the paralysis affecting her lungs and feet. Suddenly she needed to be near him. Three short steps brought her so close that the impact of his presence—impossibly handsome and utterly male—combined with the welter of emotions flooding his face once again overwhelmed her senses.

  Abruptly dry of throat and devoid of words, Lizzy glanced downward to restore a semblance of control. Accidentally, perhaps, her gaze fell on his hand where it hung limp at his side. Inexplicably, a mingled surge of sadness and protectiveness pierced her heart. In that moment, she saw his empty hand as symbolic of his loneliness. It was a loneliness she understood, even if the emotion was not one she would have admitted feeling hours before. Instinctively she pressed his cold hand between hers and lifted it to her lips for a gentle kiss.

  There was a minuscule pause before he gently squeezed her fingers. His understanding of her acceptance was conveyed in that simple gesture. No more than three heartbeats had passed, yet the strength flooding her body from the simple connection of their hands was enough to dispel her nervousness. The pages of words etched within her heart tickled her tongue with a yearning to be spoken aloud. All of them were lost the moment she lifted her face and met his eyes.

  He looked honestly stunned! His parted lips and wide eyes comical if in a different situation. Lizzy’s smile was a bare upturn of the corners of her mouth, yet enough to flood his face with relief and light his blue eyes with joy. So enraptured was she by the transformation in his countenance that the tentative touch of his fingertips to her cheek and the exhilarating cascade of sensations ignited by his feathery touch astounded her.

  Instinctively, Lizzy leaned into the warmth of his palm and closed her eyes to better feel the wonder. When he bent and tenderly rested his forehead against hers, his sigh of contentment wafting over her sensitized skin, Lizzy could almost hear the walls of past misunderstanding and distance disintegrating.

  Magical.

  The connection between them was instantaneous, even though no words had been uttered. There was a dreamlike quality to the event augmented by the sunlight shining upon them as a benediction. Entranced as she was, a flash of clarity shone through, and of all the words she knew must be said eventually, the three vital ones rose to the top.

  “I love you.”

  Darcy inhaled sharply and jerked as if stuck by a pin. His eyes flew open; they were so close she could note the individual flecks of colors in them.

  “Say it again.”

  “I love you…Fitzwilliam.”

  He shut his eyes again and released a sibilant moan. Then the brilliant smile she had so rarely seen burst forth, and he opened his sparkling eyes.

  “Elizabeth. Lovely, precious Elizabeth,” he breathed as delicate fingertips traced a line of fire across her jaw and chin, finally lingering on her lips.

  Lizzy’s breath caught in her throat, and her muscles trembled from the raw emotion written on his face.

  Kiss me!

  Her silent plea echoed within his crystal-blue eyes, and she honestly did not know if living through the disappointment of him not kissing her would be worse than the drowning bliss if he did! She could see the harsh struggle he waged, his desire as strong, if not stronger, than her own. Somehow he conquered his urges and, with a visible shudder, withdrew a pace. He clasped her small hands between his broad ones and gazed at her with such intensity of love and thankfulness that any shreds of disappointment Lizzy felt at evading a kiss were dissolved.

  “Elizabeth, there is much to say, much for me to apologize for, although I do not deserve your forgiveness. I did not plan this…rendezvous, and it is not how I intended to proceed in winning your affection. I wanted to court you properly, allot you time to improve your opinion of me, and maybe, if I was so blessed, have you love me. I never entertained the notion, even after my aunt restored my hope, that you felt a fraction of what I do.”

  “I do,” she murmured with a nod and smile.

  Darcy exhaled a happy sigh and shook his head in amazement. “Elizabeth, clever phrases and spontaneous conversation are not my forte, as you can attest. Luckily, fate has gifted me with this opportunity, and considering how atrociously I botched my well-rehearsed proposal, fate has also proven to be wiser. Simplicity appears to be its recommendation. Therefore, on that note—”

  Without releasing her hands or diverting his gaze for a second, Darcy bent onto one knee. “Miss Elizabeth Bennet, I love you fervently and with all that I am. Will you honor me by becoming my wife?”

  “Yes! Oh, yes, you know I will!” A wavering sob accompanied her shout. Lizzy was powerless to stop the tears or the launch into his body. He nearly fell, but rallied and stood while encircling her with his strong arms. His rumbling laugh vibrated the broad chest she was instantly pressed against.

  Never had she experienced this level of intimacy with a man. Never had she felt such protectiveness, belonging, and unity. Never had anything, or anyone, felt so right. Remaining thus entwined longer than propriety would dictate, the sensations educed by the embrace were indescribable. He radiated heat, his heart beating powerfully under her ear, and his arms firmly but tenderly encompassed her body. Combined, it created a haven she never wanted to leave.

  “Elizabeth,” he whispered hoarsely, as his lips brushed the top of her head and warm breath tingled across her scalp. She recognized reluctance as he clasped her elbows and gently pushed her away from his body. Looking up, she noted his joyous smile and gleaming eyes. He wiped a lone tear off her cheek, eliciting a fresh wave of heat that made her gasp. The smile did not lessen, but a hint of sober intent muted the brightness within his eyes.

  “Miss Elizabeth, is your father currently at home? With your permission, I would like to speak with him as soon as possible.”

  “He is at home, yes. And you have my permission, Mr. Darcy—wholehearted and unwavering.”

  He was taken aback at the vehemence in her voice, she could tell, and before he glanced away, she detected a flash of—Doubt? Disbelief? Fear? Instantly she understood his conflicting emotions. Goodness knows she had given scant reason to anticipate her exuberant response. Perhaps patience and time were required to wholly convince him of her love, but there never had been a challenge Elizabeth Bennet did not rise to.

  A good place to start was eagerly taking the arm he offered and steering determinedly toward Longbourn and Mr. Bennet. It was difficult to collect her thoughts, however, due to the closeness of his body as they walked. She did not feel shy or uncomfortable. Rather, her senses were acutely aware of his presence—the musky cologne and faint smell of horse emanating from his jacket, his exposed neck and glimpse of chest, how the damp linen shirt clung to his muscles, and the sheer height and breadth of his figure were more than enough to hamper logical thinking. Add to that his constant sidelong glances that clearly had him as captivated and addled, and it was easy to fathom why her head spun.

  “Do you prefer to be called Fitzwilliam, or do you have another name?” she inquired abruptly, as startled as he by the unexpected question and interruption to the silence.

  “My full name is Fitzwilliam Alexander James Darcy,” he replied calmly. “James was my father’s name, and Alexander was his brother. Fitzwilliam was my mother’s maiden name. It is the surname of my uncle, t
he Earl of Matlock. Consequently there are quite a few Fitzwilliams about at family gatherings.” He laughed, the sound beautiful to her ears, and she mentally noted to tell him so. “My cousins are often addressed as Fitzwilliam. Colonel Fitzwilliam is my cousin. Did you know this?”

  “You mentioned it once. In your letter.” She murmured the last, gazing momentarily at the ground before shaking off the unpleasant remembrances.

  “Richard, that is Colonel Fitzwilliam, is two years my senior, but we grew up together and have always been friends as well as relatives. To answer your question, my family all call me William. It is what I prefer, although I think you, dearest Elizabeth, could call me by any name and I would find it delightful.”

  “Your family is so illustrious. Mama will be pleased,” she teased, ducking her head to hide the rosiness that had risen in her cheeks at his last statement. “Lords and ladies abounding!”

  His smile faltered and tone grew somber. “Yes, although, I fear my Aunt Catherine has proven how a title does not indicate worth—or an assurance of proper manners. What she did was unpardonable, Elizabeth, and I apologize for any pain she caused.”

  “An apology is not necessary, especially when the event led to this positive conclusion. Besides, it livened up the dreariness of a normal day at Longbourn. Nothing quite as effective as an argumentative confrontation to upset the boredom!”

  “Indeed,” he chuckled, his expression both amused and proud. “Fortunately, you will discover my uncle and his wife quite different. They will adore you, I am certain.”

  The radiant smile breaking over his face rendered her breathless, her rapt attention to his countenance distracting from careful attention to her steps over the uneven terrain. She faltered, Darcy immediately steadying her, with one hand gripping her elbow while the other slipped around her waist. The rescue brought her even closer to his body.

  “Are you well, Elizabeth? Steady now.”

  Neither moved. His eyes were inches from hers, Lizzy unable to do more than nod. She had always been captivated, even in her annoyance and pretended indifference to him, by how penetrating his gaze was. His vividly blue eyes, fierce as a raptor’s and burning with intelligence, never failed to intrigue her, especially in how they would darken when fixed on her—exactly as they did now. Previously she had erroneously decided it was disapproval and disdain. Now she understood the staring and the reaction were about his enthrallment, love, and…passion? Desire for her?

  Blushing from the heat surging through her body, Lizzy tore her gaze away and resumed walking. Injecting a normal, jesting tone, she said, “Proper manners or otherwise, having peers of the realm as relatives will win you points with my family! Mama, especially, will likely faint dead away, so be sure you lead with that fact.” Her laugh faded when she glanced to see him trailing a step behind, his expression grave. “Mr. Dar…William? Whatever is the matter?”

  “I love hearing you speak my name, Elizabeth,” he whispered.

  “How providential that you do, since you will be hearing it so uttered for the rest of my life!” She unthinkingly lifted a finger to the tiny furrows between his brows, rubbing lightly. “What troubles you, William?”

  Catching her hand and kissing her fingers, he held on and resumed walking. After some minutes of silent contemplation, he spoke slow and deliberate. “I am well aware of the fact that I made a poor impression on the citizens of Hertfordshire, aided partially by Mr. Wickham but primarily due to my own surliness. Frankly, I remain dumbfounded that you have not only managed to see past my errors and attitude, but have also grown to…care for me.”

  Lizzy frowned at his pause, sensing he started to say love but caught himself.

  “Mr. Bennet has no reason to approve of me as a suitor—wealth or family connections notwithstanding—nor do I wish him to render his approval based on those inconsequential facts. It is imperative, Elizabeth, that he knows I love you and deem your happiness of the utmost importance.”

  She touched his chin with her fingertips and forced his gaze to hers. “Mr. Darcy, my father is a reasonable man. Be honest, as I know you only can be, and say to him what you have said to me. He will not refuse you, especially after hearing my feelings on the subject.”

  He searched her eyes, still frowning. “Does he know what happened…with us…at Rosings?”

  “No one knows about that but me and you.”

  His brows arched. “Not even Miss Bennet?”

  “No, I never told anyone. Did you?”

  “My cousin suspected and knows pieces. Only Georgiana knows fully. She extracted the information as only she can. In truth, I was a bit of a wreck after Rosings, and she was worried.” He shook his head, but before Lizzy could ask what he meant by being a wreck, he laughed.

  “What do you find amusing, sir?”

  He caressed one fingertip over her cheek, eyes sparkling with mirth. “It is humbling. I manage a vast estate and intricate affairs of business, domestic and abroad, without flinching. Yet, here I stand, daunted by the prospect of a confrontation with a country gentleman. Of course, not one of those ventures has ever been as critical to my existence as this one.”

  “I suspect you are brave enough to handle my frightening father, Mr. Darcy.”

  “We shall see. It will be a test of my worth as a husband to someone as brave, forthright, and independent as you, Miss Elizabeth.” He lifted her hand for a firm kiss, his eyes amused and serious at the same time. “Elizabeth, I love and respect you more than I can express. It is vitally important that you understand how valuable your opinion is to me. I want to talk to you, at length and honestly, about Rosings, my letter, Lady Catherine, Bingley and Miss Bennet, my abominable behavior, and the rest, so there will be no further miscommunications or…discord between us. Presently we do not have the time, as I dare not keep you alone for much longer. If you have any doubts or wish to wait until we can discuss—”

  “No,” she interrupted emphatically. “I have no doubts. Nor do I need to consider further or discuss unpleasantness from the past. I know my heart, and I do love you, Mr. Darcy. The rest can be dealt with, if it must, later. For now, the only important task is to face my father. I shan’t let you back out simply because he is a terrifying individual!”

  Darcy chuckled at her jest, his relief evident even if he still looked mildly amazed. Then he squared his shoulders purposefully, squeezed her hand, and turned toward the house visible through the trees. “Come then, Miss Elizabeth, my love. Our destiny awaits!”

  * * *

  Lizzy waited in the empty corridor while Mr. Darcy remained closeted with her father in his library. They have been talking for nearly an hour! She bit her lip nervously, paced several steps down the hall before turning to pace back, glared sternly at Kitty and Mary—who were peeking through the parlor doorway—and attempted to ignore her mother’s incessant declarations of shock.

  By a miracle, she and Mr. Darcy had entered the house without encountering a single Bennet. They made it to Mr. Bennet’s library door undisturbed, and it was as Lizzy knocked on the door, after squeezing the hand of the nervous man she hoped to soon be officially betrothed to, that Mrs. Bennet rounded the corner. Her gasp jolted both of them, but before either could respond or release the hand they clutched, the door was pulled open to reveal an equally astonished Mr. Bennet.

  His gaze lowered to their hands—Darcy dropping Elizabeth’s as if it were a hot brand—and the stunned expression rapidly evolved into a stern glare.

  “I see you have matters of importance to discuss, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet flicked his gaze to Lizzy’s flushed face and then back to Mr. Darcy’s composed one.

  “I do, sir. If it is not an inconvenience, I beg your indulgence in granting me an audience without delay.”

  “Without delay, is it? Hmm. Very well. Elizabeth, stay close. I will be talking to you next.” And after only the barest of glances from Mr. Darcy, she was left standing in the corridor.

  The silence lasted half a second befor
e her mother shrilly asked what was going on. Only the fear of Mr. Darcy overhearing Mrs. Bennet’s confusion over Lizzy choosing that man, with his arrogant attitude and unpleasant personality, prompted Lizzy to leave the area. Jane was the only one who made any attempt to listen and support, but even she was clearly flabbergasted at the idea of Lizzy and Mr. Darcy. Finally, after some fifteen or twenty minutes of questions and berating from her mother and sisters, Lizzy threw up her hands in defeat and ordered them to stay in the parlor.

  Nervousness at what was transpiring behind the closed door mixed with dismay over her family’s reaction to the news. Furthering her anxiety were bleak thoughts as to what it portended.

  Lizzy had all but forgotten the general opinion of Mr. Darcy in Hertfordshire. Even when he alluded to it while walking back to Longbourn, her happiness overrode the concerns. The majority of local citizens she had known since birth, some especially dear friends. Thus it was a worthy goal to convince them of Mr. Darcy’s excellent character and the truthful reasons for marrying him. Hopefully she would succeed, but if she failed, so be it.

  When it came to her parents and sisters, indifference was not an option. Based on the immediate reaction to her news, gaining their acceptance and understanding might prove tougher than she’d imagined! As for her father, Lizzy knew of his preference for her and anguished over causing him distress. Would he believe she was unwise in choosing Mr. Darcy? Would he easily grant approval, as she had assured Mr. Darcy?

  Abruptly, the door burst open. Mr. Darcy breezed out, and Lizzy was so tightly wound that she sped right past him. Halfway through the door, she turned. He smiled wanly, his expression indecipherable. He did not appear distraught—nor overjoyed. His general demeanor was one of exhaustion. She smiled encouragingly, mouthed I love you, and shut the door.

  Mr. Bennet was agitated as she had rarely seen him. The first words out of his mouth made her wince. “Lizzy, are you out of your senses? Mr. Darcy? Have you truly accepted his proposal? Have you not professed your hatred of him time and again?”