Darcy & Elizabeth: Hope of the Future: Darcy Saga Prequel Duo Book 2
“I can find no fault in the request, Mr. Darcy. Even if I did, Lizzy would scold me most vehemently for impeding the giving of a present. A scolding by Lizzy is a rather fearsome thing, as I suspect you know. A rousing challenge, most of the time, but I’m not up to it tonight.”
Indeed, Darcy knew of Elizabeth’s temper all too well! And, like her father, he wasn’t in the mood to fight tonight either. Far from it. Emboldened by Mr. Bennet’s approval, he decided on the spot to seek helpful illumination on a nagging anxiety.
“May I ask a question, Mr. Bennet?” At the older gentleman’s nod, Darcy forged ahead. “Miss Elizabeth has expressed her reluctance in receiving gifts from me. We have discussed the topic, and to a degree, I understand her rationale in preferring to wait until after we are married. However, what I am uncertain of is if her very nature is such that she is disinterested in gifts overall. Or is it that she would only want books or similar items, which I am delighted to bestow, as reading is a passion we share. Would jewelry, perfume, and…other feminine wares offend her in some way?”
Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Don’t let her fool you, Mr. Darcy. Lizzy may not be as outwardly effusive about gifts or enamored of pretty trinkets as some, but she isn’t blasé either. I am completely confident that anything you choose to give her, tonight and in the years to come, will be abundantly appreciated and cherished. Lizzy is surprisingly maudlin underneath her prickly exterior.”
He clapped Darcy on the shoulder and started to turn away. Then he paused, adding almost as if an afterthought, “The foyer is fine, if you wish, but you might consider the terrace. Lizzy has a fondness for starry skies and fresh air. You may have learned that already.”
Mr. Bennet winked, and then, with a grin in place, he moved to join the others, leaving Darcy practically gaping. All throughout dinner he felt as if Mr. Bennet was secretly laughing at him. About the time he concluded it was his overworked imagination, he’d catch Elizabeth staring at her father speculatively.
Did the older gentleman know of the liberties he’d taken with his daughter?
The question lingered in Darcy’s mind, but he relinquished dwelling upon it. His impatience to be alone with Elizabeth overrode everything. After interminable hours at the dining table, then the gentlemen in the library, the regathering of the genders in the parlor for socializing, and then the ascension to the first-floor game room for entertainment, Darcy reached the end of his endurance.
Casually strolling to where Elizabeth sat beside Georgiana, he ignored the manners he’d had ingrained in him which taught never to interrupt two women sharing a hushed conversation. Standing behind them, he leaned down and touched Elizabeth lightly on the shoulder. She startled but smiled when she gazed upward to meet his eyes.
“Eavesdropping, Mr. Darcy?”
“Not this time,” he responded blandly, smiling when she chuckled. “I wondered if I could steal you away from the riveting conversation with my sister.”
Elizabeth’s eyes widened and dropped to his mouth. It was a mere flash, followed by a rosy flush tinting her cheeks. “As you wish, sir.”
Addressing the group as Elizabeth rose, Darcy informed, “Please excuse us. I have been granted permission to speak with my betrothed privately for a matter of some urgency. I promise not to keep her for too long.” He inclined his head in Mr. Bennet’s direction, the older gentleman absently returning the gesture from his chair at the chess table. Mr. Gardiner didn’t even look up from his serious study of the pieces.
Satisfied, Darcy offered his arm to Elizabeth, but they were halted before reaching the door. “Take the time necessary to complete the business properly, Mr. Darcy,” Mr. Bennet said while staring at the chessboard. “I am confident all of us can entertain ourselves in the interim, securely within the walls of this well-appointed room. I can think of no reason to bother you.”
“What did he mean by that?” Elizabeth asked once they were outside the room and descending the stairs.
“I am beginning to suspect your father is not as oblivious as we have surmised. He may become distracted by my library, and he clearly has a soft spot for his favored daughter which leads him to turn a blind eye and trust implicitly. This does not, however, mean he is unaware of moonlit terrace embraces, solitary dalliances in the private rooms of the townhouse, or the host of stolen kisses and caresses at Longbourn.”
“Oh my! I thought we were so clever.”
“Apparently not. Fortunately, Mr. Bennet does not seem to be overly disturbed and may be encouraging the activity. Speaking for myself, this is tremendously relieving and gives me all sorts of brilliant ideas. Does this suit you as well, Miss Bennet?” The rosy blush spreading over Elizabeth’s cheeks was utterly delightful, as was the frankly welcoming expression on her face. Darcy steered her to a bench in the foyer, waiting until she sat. “Hold that thought for now,” he quipped, touching one fingertip to her nose. “Don’t move an inch. I will return momentarily.”
Hurrying to his office, he retrieved the two boxes sitting on his desk and hastened back. Elizabeth hadn’t budged, as commanded, her eyes trained on him as he approached and brows lifting at the sight of the boxes in his hand.
“I thought I was forced to wait until our wedding night.”
“You are, for the gift I bought today. These are something else. Here, come.” He extended his hand, Elizabeth taking it and rising. “The terrace is an enchanting location for our discussion. Today I was informed that you have a fondness for starry skies and fresh air. Who knew?”
“I shall never be able to face my father again.”
Laughing, they exited through the double door onto the wide terrace. The fountain bubbled musically, drowning any sounds coming from the townhouses surrounding. It was a chilly evening, but the sky was clear and air fresher than usual for London. Darcy selected a table and chairs directly in sight of the patio doors, which he left wide open. The terrace torches had been lit per his directions, so between those and the lights inside the foyer, there were no immediate shadows to hide them. While this did fulfill Darcy’s promise to Mr. Bennet that they would be within eyesight, another purpose was to reveal what was inside the boxes, both of which he set on the small table.
Clasping her hands, he scooted his chair until their knees were touching. “I have two special items to give you, Elizabeth. First, I must apologize for the delay in bestowing them. Both have been kept securely locked at Pemberley, requiring two trusted staff members to deliver safely. They are priceless in several ways, as I shall explain. Then, I wanted them cleaned, polished, inspected for any damage, and resized in the case of one. You see, they have years of wear but also many years of sitting undisturbed, so I was unsure of their condition.”
Pausing, his fingers traveled to the ring on her left hand. The gold band with the seven gemstones spelling out the message “dearest” had been given to her three weeks ago, and he had never seen it off her finger. Smiling, he went on, “If you recall when I gave this to you, I said it was not the betrothal ring I most desired to bestow.” He pulled it from her finger, noting the involuntary flinch and breathy gasp with pleasure, and swiftly slipped it onto the ring finger of her right hand. Kissing the skin above the sparkling band, he murmured, “I trust this ring will always hold a special place in your heart, as it does in mine?”
“For all of my life.”
The catch of emotion in her voice was nearly his undoing. Only the task he needed to complete stopped him from drawing her into his arms. Taking the smaller box into his hands, Darcy peered intently into her love-drenched eyes. “This is the ring that has waited, patiently, for me to place on the finger of the woman I promise to love, cherish, and be faithfully devoted to for as long as I draw breath.”
Slowly he lifted the lid, watching as her eyes reluctantly left his face to peer downward. Her gasp was sharp and loud this time.
“William! It is exquisite!”
Inside the box was a ring of shiny gold, the narrow band adorned with a one-car
at star sapphire of vivid blue, centered between two round half-carat diamonds.
Inhaling shakily, he explained as he slid it onto her finger, “My father designed this ring for my mother. As the story went, he searched far and wide across England for the most perfect, magnificent sapphire. It was her favorite jewel, you see. Each time he told the story to me and Georgiana the search took longer, and the traveled miles grew.”
Darcy laughed softly in remembrance. “We know he exaggerated, but also know the basics are accurate. He waited four years to marry Lady Anne Fitzwilliam, until she was of the proper age, according to the rigid rules of old Lord Matlock, Colonel Fitzwilliam’s grandfather,” he clarified. “My parents were passionately in love, and nothing but the very best was good enough for her. This is how my father felt about my mother, and why I have dreamt for the same passionate love.”
Kissing the skin above the ring, as he had on her right hand, he then enclosed both hands between his palms. Pouring every ounce of his adoration into his gaze, he proclaimed confidently, “Giving you this ring, Elizabeth, isn’t just my personal wish. My mother wanted you to have it. She, and my father, may not have known you, but at various times before they passed, each of them assured me that their heart’s desire was for me to find a love like the one they shared, and when I did, this was the ring that woman should wear.”
Tears were swimming in Elizabeth’s eyes, and after twice parting her lips as if to speak, Darcy smiled and reached for the other box. Sliding it to the edge, he attempted to ease the overwhelming emotions they were both experiencing by making a joke.
“Might as well move on to the next part so we can completely lose all ability to verbalize.”
She released a tremulous laugh that was equally an emotive sob, so his jesting worked a little. Palm atop the flat, wide box, Darcy launched into the second bit of family history.
“This belongs to you, Elizabeth, as will all the jewels at Pemberley. For reasons you will understand in a moment, this was one of my mother’s favorite pieces, although it has been in the family for I honestly have no idea how many generations. My reason for gifting it now isn’t out of extreme sentimentality or as a request from my mother, as it was with the ring. This wish is all me, and simply because I have always loved it. It is also important for me to stress that while I would greatly adore seeing you wear it on our wedding day, I do not want you to feel obligated to do so if you have a Bennet family heirloom or if this does not properly match the gown you have chosen, or—”
He stopped talking when she pressed two fingers against his lips. “William, I am honored to wear this on our wedding day. Whatever it is. To please you and express my incredible happiness in becoming your wife, I…would do anything.”
Slowly grinning, he asked, “What if it is hideous?”
Laughing aloud, she shook her head. “Somehow I doubt that is possible.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure,” he warned with mock severity. “There is a certain brooch I recall in one case that should have earned the jewelry maker a trip to the gallows. Or maybe my taste in jewelry is frightfully bad.”
“Just open the box! The suspense is now killing me.”
Suddenly feeling rather giddy, Darcy opened the lid dramatically slow. No heightening theatrics were necessary, however. Nestled on a thick pillow of white velvet was a stunning necklace of sapphires and diamonds in various shapes and sizes, masterfully crafted and woven into a spiraling arabesque style. The lights bounced off the polished metal and gemstones as Darcy lifted it off the velvet.
He draped it over his palms, Elizabeth reverently brushing her fingers across the sparkling stones. After a minute of awed inspection, he slipped it around her slender neck. Securing the clasp, he gently laid his hands on either side of the necklace, fingers caressing the nape of her neck.
“Beautiful. Almost as beautiful as you.”
Elizabeth was staring at him, her glowing eyes round as saucers and teeming with emotions almost too intense for him to bear. With her left hand, she nimbly stroked the teardrop sapphire lying below the hollow of her throat. Her right hand floated upward, making contact with his chin as her thumb traced a lazy circle, before gliding up to his lips. The pressure was light, yet it sent rivers of fire over the surface of his mouth. He parted his lips, tongue moving toward the sensitive pad, but her thumb was gone, brushing across the corner of his mouth before drifting up toward his cheek.
The warm splay of her entire palm against his face intensified the delicious sensations racing through his skin. Darcy instinctively tilted his head to increase the pressure. Doing so, he realized how far he had already unintentionally leaned toward her. Her luminous eyes were inches away, still open although her eyelids had grown heavy. In the remaining seconds, before he bridged the gap to kiss her, Darcy noted everything. The eager lifting of her face, the tongue sweeping between parted lips to moisten, the sound of rapid breaths, the rich flush infusing her cheeks, and the increasing heat burning the hands still resting on the curve of her neck.
Then, an inch from the paradise of her mouth, she whispered, “I love you.”
He groaned, the sound low and guttural yet surprisingly loud in the silence, and without knowing who closed the final distance, they were kissing. Considering the ardency he was fully aware they both felt, the kiss was astonishingly delicate and tender. Pervasive and passionate, yes, yet, with a controlled tempo. He wanted to enjoy every second, cognizant that the interlude could only last for a short time. The temptation to draw her to his body and repeat the wild embrace from two nights ago was difficult to resist, especially given Mr. Bennet’s oblique jesting about it. Nevertheless, Darcy didn’t think it wise to test the limits of what Elizabeth’s protective father would allow.
A small part of his brain—a teeny, tiny sliver—stayed focused and clear. One kiss was permissible. A fiery, inclusive, protracted kiss…but still just one kiss. He even managed to keep his hands in a safe place, cradling her swanlike neck and delicate shoulders, and going nowhere near the swell of her breasts.
All in all, a job well done, he thought, as they gradually lessened the kiss before pulling apart. He was rather proud of his regulation and gratified that their sweet intimacy—while far, far from the level he hungered to reach—would tide him over. For a few hours, at least.
Elizabeth appeared to be of the same mind. For want of a better phrase, she looked as if she had been kissed quite thoroughly and thrilled in the experience. Apparently, he must have presented a similar picture, based on the smug smile curving her plump lips as she studied his face.
“I needed that,” she blurted, dropping her eyes for an embarrassed second before joining Darcy in soft laughter.
“As did I, my love.” He drew in a rasping breath. Pulling away from her enticing lips, he turned his contemplation to the stars. “We should return, although waiting a few minutes more is probably a wise idea, particularly for me.”
To his amusement and relief, rather than blushing over his remark and the obvious meaning, she covered her mouth and burst into muffled laughter.
2
Unforeseen Complication
The following morning, Darcy left his quarters whistling lowly. As on the previous day, he sought out his sister and found her in the parlor playing the pianoforte. For several minutes he stood in the foyer listening. Georgiana’s nimble fingertips glided over the ivory keys, the music issuing forth in a lyrical cascade. Her skill never failed to amaze him, and pride swelled his heart.
Then, he detected a subtle imperfection in the familiar piece written by Mozart, and a peek past the jamb revealed her posture abnormally stiff. Chuckling, Darcy strolled into the room.
“Brother!”
“Blessed morning, my sweet. As always, I appreciate being greeted with your talent. What better way to begin my day?”
“Better than coffee and eggs?”
Darcy bent and kissed her rosy cheek. “Indeed, it may be a draw between coffee and your playing. I cannot deci
de.” He playfully pinched the tip of her nose. “Now, answer truthfully. Am I correct in my assessment that Herr Mozart’s concerto lacked your usual precision? Can it be you are distracted by nervousness?”
Georgiana bit her lip. “I know very well I should not be nervous, yet I am. Please do not lecture.”
Darcy feigned astonishment and pointed at his chest while mouthing Me? Lecture? His drama worked. Georgiana smiled, if a bit wanly.
“I have never hosted a tea party all on my own and admit that doing so unnerves me. Why I initiated the idea is unfathomable! What if I spill hot tea on Miss Elizabeth? What if I drop a blob of jam onto Miss Bennet’s dress? What if I embarrass us by saying something inappropriate? Or what if my tongue refuses to move at all and I stare dumbly for hours? What if I—”
“At the present, I have difficulty giving credence to your worry over your tongue refusing to move,” Darcy interrupted.
Georgiana clamped her lips tight.
“As for your other concerns, you are far too graceful to spill anything on anyone, and I can assure that any embarrassing utterances by you will never trump the ones already delivered by me. Have no fear, Georgie. If I were to wager, my money would be on the three of you laughing away the afternoon with gossip and whatever else females blather on about.”
Delivering another tweak to her nose, he turned away and walked toward the servant’s bell. Georgiana jumped up, suddenly cheerful.
“Then I suppose I can enlighten Miss Elizabeth about you when younger, yes? Should I tell her about the time you were half carried into Pemberley by Mr. Vernor because you stumbled on the carriage steps and twisted your ankle? Why again was it that Father said you were ‘pickled enough to feel no pain’? And I am sure she would be amused by the time you and Cousin Richard lost your way while hunting in the woods a mile from Rivallain. Or should I start with describing the tragic outcome when you attempted to fashionably curl your hair?”