The expression of joy she watched diffuse across his face likely had a match in her own expression. Just when she thought she could not be any happier, her betrothed leaned down and gently brushed his lips against hers.
Far too soon, Darcy pulled back. Elizabeth had only begun to enjoy the sensations his kiss elicited. She was not ready for him to stop. He laughed at her expression, which likely showed her consternation. Watching her, he held his hand up and then began to pull at the fingers of his gloves.
“We should return to the assembly, but first,” he whispered after both gloves had been removed and tossed to the nearby bench. He laid his bare hands on her cheeks and leaned in for another gentle kiss, and Elizabeth was certain when she opened her eyes she would be waking up from this perfect, astonishing dream. He then drew her into his arms and deepened the kiss and Elizabeth decided if this was a dream, she would enjoy it as best she could. Sliding her hands across his shoulders, she twined her fingers behind his neck.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered against her ear. It sounded like a plea or a prayer. She was eager to answer either way. A few endless and far too short moments later, Darcy pulled back once more, though his hands remained framing her face. Elizabeth looked up and, instead of waking to discover it was all a dream, she was greeted with those bright brown eyes smiling down at her.
After allowing herself a few seconds more to enjoy the sight of him looking at her that way, the thrill of his fingersgently caressing her cheeks and the wonderful chaos he created in her, Elizabeth spoke at last. “We should return?”
“Return?” he asked as he brought his lips once more to her ear and began to trace a path to her neck. “Return where?”
Though almost all of her was willing, impatient, to let him continue his attentions, Elizabeth knew they mustn’t stay here any longer. With a strength she would both admire and curse when she reviewed the events of the evening, she stepped back, ever so slightly. This seemed to have the desired, or needed, effect. Darcy shook his head as if clearing it, shaking off a fog. She understood the feeling and revelled in the evidence that he was as affected as she.
“You are correct, of course,” he said, his formal tone at odds with his dishevelled hair and heated look.
While Darcy reached for his gloves and pulled them on, Elizabeth put herself to rights as much as possible, straightening her gown and smoothing her hair. With no mirror to assist her, she turned to her companion.
“Do I look satisfactory?” and then she teased, “Have I repaired the damage you wrought?”
“You look frustratingly more than satisfactory, Elizabeth, and I quite enjoy seeing the evidence of the damage I thoroughly enjoyed wreaking.”
Darcy’s hands remained at his sides, fists clenching and unclenching, but Elizabeth felt his words like a caress. She blushed even as she responded, “Well, I thank you for the compliment, but you must help me restore anything that is amiss.”
He studied her for a moment, and she thrilled at the look of appreciation.
“You are perfect,” he assured her even as he tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. When he held his arm, she took it, but he made no move to lead them towards the courtyard doors. Instead, he covered her hand on his arm with his and then leaned down to press a gentle, lingering kiss on her lips.
“I know we must go. I just had to make certain it was not a dream.”
“I have had the very same concern since you first found me out here,” Elizabeth laughed. “Let us determine that if it is a dream, we will stay in it together.”
“A wonderful plan. I agree entirely.”
After one last kiss they returned to the assembly rooms. While Elizabeth danced several dances with the gentlemen who had previously solicited her hand, Darcy planted himself on the edge of the dance floor and watched her until the final set. Mr. Bingley had requested that particular set after they danced their first together. However, when the opening notes sounded and he found her, Darcy by his side, he begged to be excused.
“If it would not be too inconvenient for my friend here to take my place,” Bingley explained. “I seem to have twisted my ankle in the last and would be grateful for the reprieve.” He made absolutely no attempt to hide his amusement or so much as feign the injury he claimed when he walked away. Darcy led Elizabeth to the floor, and they took their place in the set.
For a full fifteen minutes, they said nothing. Finally, as they waited for the second dance of the set to begin, Elizabethsaid, “I believe we must have some conversation, Mr. Darcy. You are a singularly silent dancer. Have we not already canvassed this failing?”
“What you wish me to say will be said, Miss Elizabeth, I assure you,” he answered.
“That reply will do at present, but sir, I expect you to make the next attempt.”
“We could speak of books. I am curious to know what you have been reading of late,” he suggested before they parted down the line.
“No—I cannot talk of books in a ballroom; my head is always full of something else,” she said when they next came together.
“The present always occupies you in such scenes—does it?” said he with a look of doubt.
“Yes, always,” she replied, without knowing what she said, for her thoughts had wandered far from the subject, far from the present and back to a very particular place and a very particular moment, or moments, in time from the not-so-distant past.
He laughed even as he gave a very doubtful look.
After the dance as the musicians packed up their instruments and everyone began to move towards the doors, Darcy pulled Elizabeth to one side.
“I will speak with your father tomorrow.” Her heart thrilled at this, even though she had expected it. His next wordswere almost too much to bear. “I find I cannot abide the thought of waiting until the proper calling hour to see you. Will you meet me on the path between Netherfield and Longbourn in the morning?”
The crush of people swelled just then, but before they were separated, she assured him she would be there.
