Attention forced back to Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth observed the man before her; fidgeting as he observed the time, he appeared as a child waiting to be excused, though his countenance held a momentary flash of some emotion she could not place.Perhaps he fears Jane will encounter Lord Lightcliffe again?
“Mr. Bingley,” she assured him, “you need not wait on my account. If Mr. Darcy is longer than expected, I can find a book to read. Your staff always provide a handsome fare and all the tea anyone might require. I shall be well looked after.”
Standing before her final words were spoken, Mr. Bingley smiled. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. Come to think of it, I do have somewhere to be…” having moved toward the door, he hesitated at its frame, “If you are certain you shall be alright?”
“Of course,” she smiled, though her chest reeled at the thought of being alone; the danger she had placed herself in and the feel of a stranger’s hand upon her cheek unable to be shaken.
“Excellent,” he answered with a light bow, before taking his leave with his usual good manners–hastened though they were.
Drawing her lip inward, Elizabeth turned her eyes about the room, the quiet, impressive size lending force to her feelings of smallness.
If only Darcy would come down,she frowned, her foot tapping rapidly against the floor.How long has Mr. Bingley been gone? At least tea would provide company for a few moments.Standing, she moved toward the window, neck prickling as she envisioned the off-smile of that man as he had stroked her cheek.Did they truly run toward Meryton? Oh, why did she not warn Mr. Bingley? Would those men find her sisters? Attack them or… No, the three men who were helping and Mr. Bingley were all to be in Meryton, if any of them saw her sisters, none would leave them unchaperoned. They would be well. But what if those horrid men came back here instead?
Starting, she whirled toward the library door as Darcy entered, his face a mixture of bewilderment and concern as she clutched her chest.
“Elizabeth?” he questioned, the soft tone of his voice all but breaking Elizabeth as she envisioned the faces of the two men who had confronted her. “Elizabeth?” he questioned again, her name on his lips deep with worry.
Feet unmoving, she turned her face toward the window in an effort to disguise her feelings, yet, the sound of his footfalls coming near could do nothing but draw her out.
“Elizabeth?” he said again, this time softly by her ear as he waited patiently for her to answer, her eyes lifting up to his with uncertainty–she had been a fool.
“I… I fear you shall think less of me, having done as I have. A moment's impulse, a rush of pride, and I was gone. I walked to Charlotte’s first, considering that lane entirely safe, for it is exposed and there is nowhere anyone might hide, or anything which might occur unseen. Yet,” she hesitated, his constant gaze unsettling in her present state of stricken conscience, “I did not return to Longbourn to wait for you as I had planned, instead striking out here, in full knowledge of the danger and the breaking of my word. Forgive me, please… this ordeal has already been more than I can bear.”
“What happened?” he asked; his voice, though maintaining the gentle patience he had thus far given, could not conceal the fiery concern in his gaze.
“When I. As I neared Netherfield’s drive, I felt I was being followed again, so I hurried onto the drive since I could no longer turn back, but a man emerged before me and another behind. One of the men came near and he… he told me to tell you that you had better start preparing the money, or else, well, or else something might happen to your cousin, and my sister… and me,” she admitted, her feet of sudden interest.
“He threatened you?” Darcy fumed, fast footfalls sounding as he began to pace nearby.
Silent, Elizabeth allowed only the briefest of glances at his tall form before returning her eyes to the ground; his concern touching, though a stark reminder of her folly.
The silence lingering until he could bear it no longer, his voice faltered as he asked, “Did either of them harm you?”
Shaking her head, Elizabeth flinched as memory of the man’s fingers over her skin pricked over and over.
Why could she not forget? True it had only transpired, but oh, how delightful to forget.
If receiving the ransom note had distressed her, and believing she had been followed had panicked her, this newest encounter had managed to shake her to her core.Lifting her face to meet the now still Darcy, her heart broke–all she wanted, all she needed, was the safety of his arms.
Drawing near her, Darcy hesitated for several seconds before answering her silent wish, his arms wrapping around her as she buried her head in his chest.
Minutes of silence passed as she relished in the safety and warmth, even the embarrassed warming of her cheeks doing little to lessen her delight.Still, she could not remain so forever.Pulling away from his arms, her eyes drawn to his with all naturalness, Elizabeth motioned to the area where they often sat; the presence of tea and treats causing her pulse to race.
Someone had brought it in while she was in the arms of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy!
Accepting the strength of his proffered arm as they made their way to their seats, Elizabeth feigned nonchalance as she prepared their tea; his own preference as familiar to her as her own.
“I do forgive you,” he said as he accepted the cup, his hand stilling on hers, “Though I ask you to make your promise again, and mean it with all of your heart, for I could not endure the pain should anything happen to you.”
Their hands clasped around the single cup, Elizabeth’s heart beat wildly as she made a solemn vow, “I do. That is to say, I promise, for your sake and mine, I shall not journey out on my own until this danger has passed–save as danger or calamity require–and, if at all possible, to temper my pride.”
Studying her face closely at last he gave a brief nod and accepted the cup in full, his face brighter as he said, “Thank you, Elizabeth. Your word means far more than you could know.”
Face aglow, Elizabeth reveled in their newfound closeness, all memories of having once disliked him overlooked as she came to know the man rather than the disagreeable phantom she had created.
No. That phantom would never have held her in his arms. Too proud and too fearful of scandal the fictional Mr. Darcy had been, but the real one? He had some pride to be certain, and moments where it rose too high for any man, yet, not often. And his other good traits, his compassion, his bravery, his determination, those and all the rest well made up for his flaws.
Had she been told after the assembly that this man, this Mr. Darcy, would make her fly and fall in a single breath, her response would have probably been laughter. Nay, worse. But now?she asked herself.Now she would simply incline her head, a smile forming at the rightness of it all.
