Mr Hurst
∞∞∞
Darcy was dumbfounded. Mr Hurst, the eldest Bingley sister’s husband, had never felt the need to send him a note of such urgency. Indeed, they had never had occasion to write at all. The only time they ever spoke was when Mr Bingley saw fit to invite his eldest sister and husband to visit at the same time Darcy was visiting. And he was a sour fellow, indeed.“How very odd,” he mumbled to himself. It must be dire indeed if Mr Hurst felt the need to send him a note and ask for a private meeting.
He headed to the library, which lay in the opposite direction of the grand salon. The further he went, the less crowded the halls became, until there was not a soul to be seen.
The library at Netherfield was a grand affair — or at least, it had been in bygone days. The shelves had been neglected for some time, and he knew that Bingley would rather be outside riding or shooting than staying in to read a good book. If he married well, perhaps that might change. Bingley was such a pleasant fellow that he would certainly read to please his wife, if she asked it of him. But if Jane Bennet were to be the woman, he was far from certain that she would care whether her husband ever opened a book.
He frowned at the disturbing thoughts rushing through his mind. Darcy was far from convinced that the depth of Miss Bennet’s feelings matched Bingley’s. And Caroline Bingley was against the match entirely. Little as he trusted the woman’s judgement on most matters, it must be hoped that she at least had her brother’s best interests in mind.
As Darcy walked through the shelves, he ran a hand over the spines of books on one of the middle shelves, wondering if Elizabeth had read any of them when she had stayed at Netherfield to help care for her sister a few weeks prior. Whenever she had come downstairs to join the company, she always seemed to have a book in hand. He let a small smile crease his lips, wondering if Elizabeth would enjoy exploring the library at Pemberley. Perhaps she would love it as much as he did.
When he looked up, Darcy nearly exclaimed in his surprise. There, across the sitting area, was Elizabeth herself! Was he seeing things, or had his thoughts conjured her? His heart picked up its pace. Darcy ducked into the shadows, wondering what in the world could have brought Elizabeth into the library at the precise moment he had also entered. Was she hiding from Mr Collins? Perhaps not, for she looked confused, as if she was waiting for someone. He waited a moment longer, watching her. Darcy could have watched her forever, but it was hardly mannerly to do so. What was she doing here?
He ought to speak to her, to be sure she was well. Accordingly, Darcy wove around the seating area and began walking through the shelves toward Elizabeth. She looked up and saw him when he was only a few feet from her.
“Mr Darcy — ” she said in surprise. But she was unable to finish her thought. When he had almost reached her, Darcy tripped, pitching violently forward. Elizabeth’s eyes went wide, and she tried to back up a step, but it all happened much too fast. He knew he could not catch himself in time, and his horror was complete as he rammed into Elizabeth, falling for what seemed like ages to the floor.
Darcy was afraid he would crush her, or she would smack her skull on the bookshelf, or even on the hardwood floor. Just before they landed, however, he wrapped an arm around her waist and the other to brace up her head. He landed hard on his elbows. Shocks of pain laced up his arm and into his shoulders, and he could not suppress a grunt of pain with the force of their fall.
Elizabeth yelped as they landed, then groaned, her hand flying to the back of her temple. She closed her eyes, and he sucked in a breath of horror at the thought that he might have injured her. The pain in his elbows was nothing compared to the surprised of being pressed against her in such an intimate embrace. The situation was hardly romantic. Surely, he had nearly crushed her with his clumsiness. But her closeness was doing things to him he knew he should not feel.
When she opened her eyes, he finally found his tongue.“Are you all right, Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy said. He stopped, looking deeply into her eyes. From this vantage, he could not help but think again how beautiful she was.
“I believe so,” she whispered. Her chest heaved with every breath, and the feel of her palms on his chest made his heart race all the more.“I am well. Only a little surprised,” she replied.
“I cannot express how embarrassed I am,” Darcy said hoarsely. “Indeed, I am very sorry.”
That was not quite true. Embarrassed, he certainly was, but he could not be entirely sorry. At least, not about holding her in his arms, near enough to kiss. Elizabeth was more beautiful than ever. Loose tendrils of her hair lay loose around her face, and he tucked one of them behind her ear.
But that was a liberty he should not have allowed himself to take. Darcy quickly drew back his hand. He must make sure she was not injured. All other concerns paled in comparison. He studied her eyes — those large brown eyes that had so bewitched him from the first moment he had arrived in Meryton.“Are you hurt?” he asked again, tenderly. Utterly forgetting himself in the love and concern that filled his heart, he brushed his fingertips down her jawline, and stopped at her mouth, tempted to run his fingers over them as well. And not only that. He longed to know what her lips tasted like…
Chapter 3
It must surely be a dream. Or a night terror, more like it. But as she opened her eyes, Elizabeth was all too aware that this was no dream, but horrible reality. Here she was, laying on the floor of the Netherfield library, with Mr Darcy of all men on top of her.
She had never been this close to a man before. It was altogether scandalous and terrible. And yet…and yet…was there not something rather wonderful about it, all at the same time? She quickly chastised herself for the thought. No proper young woman thought of such things, things like the sensations travelling through her, filling her whole body with warmth as he had touched her cheek. When his eyes had travelled to her lips, she had almost thought that he might kiss her.
“Miss Elizabeth, you must let me know if I have hurt you. Are you well?” He asked it again of her, since she had forgotten to answer. Indeed, she had forgotten to breathe. She blinked slowly. For the first time, she allowed herself to really look at him. His face was handsome, to be sure, just as Charlotte had said. Being this close to him, Elizabeth could hardly deny it now. He had a strong, square-cut jaw and hazel eyes that reminded her of a misty forest. And his lips —
No. She could not think of them. She was already experiencing too many conflicting, confusing emotions as it was.
“I am well,” she said. His chest was pressing against hers, but that was not what was making it difficult to breathe. His closeness was cutting off her air supply, sending a heady mix of emotions all over her. But though it had been only moments, it had felt like they had been laying prone here for an eternity. It was highly improper, even though it had been an accident.“I suppose you should get off of me now?”
Mr Darcy blinked, as though astonished at his position. “I am terribly sorry,” he said huskily, quickly hauling himself to a sitting position.“Here, now. Let me help you.” He offered her his hand, and she took it, still rather shaken.
But when Elizabeth attempted to sit up, she suddenly felt dizzy, her eyes going wide as she tried to keep the darkness from overtaking her. He knelt beside her, embracing her to keep her from falling.“Careful. Take it slowly,” he coaxed.
She looked into his eyes, their faces just inches apart. Did his eyes move down to study her lips? No, she must be imagining things. This was Mr Darcy, surely the last man to be interested in her.
“Elizabeth —” he whispered. There was so much contained in that one word, her name. And oddly enough, it had never sounded like that on anyone’s lips. Her heart fluttered.
Before she could say a word, there was a rush of people who stood at the doorway. Elizabeth’s heart sank as she saw easily a dozen of her friends and neighbours gaping at her, covering their mouths with their hands. Though they had done nothing improper, she could easily imagine what their position looked like: utterly indefensible.
Mrs Stratland, a notorious busybody, pushed her way through the crowd, exclaiming,“We heard a crash! What in the world has happened?!” Her tone held a mixture of excitement and concern. But when she reached the front and saw their prone position, she gasped and started whispering to one of the other ladies.
“Look away, Mrs Stratland,” a gentleman said, and place his arm under hers to help her turn. Elizabeth caught Mrs Stratland looking over her shoulder at the shocking scene, giving a small smile in Elizabeth’s direction. Her cheeks grew warm as Mr Darcy helped her to a standing position. She smoothed her skirts, then looked at him to see if he knew what they ought to do. They had done nothing wrong, but unfortunately, it looked anything but innocent.
