“Everything is in order, sir.”
“And you are prepared to sign a generous settlement?”
“Naturally.”
“Good. I trust you are a man of your word. Then you have my blessings.”
“Are you not curious to know if I love your daughter?”
“That is for you and Lizzy to sort out.”
Mr. Bennet took his top hat from its perch on the cane and plunked it firmly on his head. With a finger to his lips, he unlocked the door, careful to make no sound.
“I would appreciate it if you could distract Mrs. Bennet while I can get away.”
“But sir—”
“I am sure you will find a way, Mr. Darcy. Use your imagination. I would suggest falling to the ground in a faint. That always succeeds in drawing attention.”
And with that, Mr. Bennet sneaked out through the servant’s entrance, leaving Darcy to handle Mrs. Bennet.
***
LUCKILY FOR DARCY,Mrs. Bennet ploughed past him as soon as he opened the door, searching for her husband. He had already left the room, and Mrs. Bennet did not even glance in Darcy’s direction before running out to waylay him before the carriage left.
Darcy, trusting that Mr. Bennet could take care of himself, looked out of the window to see if he could spot Elizabeth outside.
He located her sitting on the swing, a book in her hand, completely indifferent to the pandemonium that had broken out inside.
He smiled.
Even if she was not waiting for him, he would not allow this opportunity to slip through his fingers.
He approached her with trepidation. Now that it came down to it, he did not have the slightest inkling if she had any feelings for him. In the maze, when he had kissed her, he had felt she might, but she pushed him away so quickly he may have imagined it.
She looked up as he approached, the crunching of the gravel alerting her.
“Is the furor over yet?”
He shook his head, unable to answer, caught by the mischievous laughter dancing over her lips.
“Has Mama sent you to fetch me? Because I swear, if she wants me to marry Mr. Collins now, I will—”
There was only one sure way to know how she felt, he thought. He took hold of the ropes of the swing and pulled Elizabeth towards him. The wet rope soaked through his gloves, but he ignored it.
“Mr. Darcy—” she sputtered.
His lips sank down into hers. As they connected, he felt a shudder that reached into his very soul. His need for her demanded more, but he forced himself to be gentle. He savored the moment, taking his time to woo her, giving her time to make up her mind. He did not press her. He wanted to give her a chance to move away if she wanted to.
He held back, and he waited.
She was motionless. She was breathing fast, but her eyes were shut tight, and, apart from a small murmur, she did nothing to reciprocate. He began to despair. What if she did not love him? What if he was wrong?
Then finally, she gave a cry and sank her fingers into his curls, pulling his head down. Her lips pressed against his, asking, demanding, searching for his very soul. He leaned into her hungrily, an insatiable yearning about to cut loose.
Is it so very strange that I would wish the gentleman who is my husband to love me?
The words broke through the daze of desire. She deserved to know the answer. He dragged himself out of his drunken joy and into the real world. He had promised her nothing. He had not even told her he was planning to stay. He was appalled. No wonder she had hesitated.
