Evening
I am going to visit him.
I have come to the conclusion that after enough preface I might find bayoneting a perfectly acceptable culmination to an otherwise delightful interlude.
So I am going to visit him. Darcy, that is. In his bed chamber. Tonight.
Just as soon as I find my courage.
Not that I am frightened. Not exactly. It is just a rather decisive step. Once we take that step we can never again claim to be indifferent acquaintances. Then again, perhaps the marriage thing already put paid to that.
His chambers have gone silent. If I am going to go through with this I must do it now before he falls asleep.
I approached the door and considered my options. Should I knock? Yes, of course I should knock. He could be doing anything. He could be undressed! I tapped tentatively at the adjoining door. It was the meekest knock in the history of knocks, but if I had hoped Darcy would not hear me I was sadly disappointed for not a moment after I had ceased tapping I heard, "Enter."
I entered. Standing in the door way I squinted into the shadows, my candle provided just enough light to discern the outline of the four-poster and nothing else.
"Good evening," I said to the darkness.
"Good evening," the darkness, presumably Darcy, spoke back.
I took one step into the room, then halted.
"Have you come to smother me?" he asked his voice rich with amusement.
"No," I replied, taking another step, "I've decided I can forgive the sunshine thing."
"Very tolerant of you."
Another forward step and I was close enough to see him. I felt my face flame as I observed him. I do not know why I should react with such bashfulness. It is nothing I have not seen before. I glanced away with a nonchalant air. I could certainly be in the presence of Darcy's bare-chested glory without ogling.
Certainly.
I drew a fortifying breath. If the exhale sounded very much like a longing sigh it was notmy fault. "Good evening," I repeated, because why say something only once when you can make yourself look like a fool by saying it twice?
"I certainly hope it will be."
Devilish rogue. What reply could I possibly make to such a statement?
Before I lost my bravery I extinguished my light. I placed the candlestick carefully on the floor then threw off my dressing gown in one quick motion.
All right. Now for the difficult part.
"Mind where you place your knee," warned Darcy as I attempted to join him on the bed.
"Sorry," I squeaked before I lost balance and collapsed atop him. Immediately I scrambled off of him, rolling away to the far edge of the bed.
"You're naked!"
With his usual dry tone he replied, "You will forgive me for noticing, but so are you."
"Yes, but I do notsleepin the nude. I thought you were wearing trousers!" It was merely the bedclothes that guarded his last vestige of modesty. If he could be said to have modesty.
"Why would I wear trousers to bed? I have night shirts. I do not like them. I find they bunch beneath one in bed. And, as I usually do not have company, I see no point in enduring the discomfort. Would you like me to put one on?"
"No, it would be counterproductive."
"A most sensible conclusion."
