“I wish you were not so far away from me.” Realising how brazen she had sounded, she tried to explain. “It is difficult to speak to your shadow.”
Instantly he moved into the space beside her, soquickly it was startling—almost as if he had very much wanted to sit next to her.
Well, she thought,since we are married, there is no reason why we should not begin to be comfortable with each other. And so she leant against him, and was gratified when he moved his arm around her and covered her hand with his much larger one. It was an unfamiliar feeling, to be resting in the arms of a man.
It was also sweet, satisfying some need she had never known she possessed.
“I am sure you require explanations,” he said, but then did not offer any.
“Yes,” she agreed.
More silence.
“Who is Anne de Bourgh?” she asked at last. It was the least of the questions brimming in her thoughts—butifhe possessed an affianced bride, one that probably ought to be addressed quickly.
He made a small noise of displeasure. “She is my cousin. I can assure you, we neverwerebetrothed, although my aunt likes to pretend it is so, no matter how often I remind her otherwise.”
“That must be annoying,” she replied. “I?—”
“I am so sorry,” he interrupted, and his words spilled out in a sudden rush. “I am sorry for Wickham’s insinuations, and for losing command of myself so completely that you were forced to witness violence. Further, if there is any way you could forget our argument, the things Isaid to you concerning him earlier today, I would be grateful beyond reason. I meantnoneof it.”
“Your wish has already been granted,” Elizabeth said, after a moment’s bewilderment. “I have no recollection of any argument. My memories are random and erratic, having more to do with events that perhaps occurred earlier in the day? We argued about…Mr Wickham?”
He sighed. “I am unsure you were arguing at all. It was I who…behaved poorly at the mention of his name.”
She thought about this, trying so hard to remember, it almost hurt. There was hardly anything, beyond the vague, nonsensical recollections of her mother, of Mr Collins, of the peppermints, and kissing Darcy.Some parts of the past, I think, probably ought to stay happily buried; no doubt he, too, has had cause this day to be upset. “I truly have no recollection of this quarrel. Mr Wickham behaved despicably this evening, however, and I shall henceforth call him no friend of mine. I suppose it is possible that he might spread rumours about me within his regiment, but my family’s name is a good one. Hopefully he would not be believed.”
“As to that,” said Darcy, “I doubt he will return to Meryton. He does not usually behave so callously before witnesses, but his greed got the better of him, imagining, as he did, that he had caught me in a compromising situation.”
“You were rescuing me! He is a churl!”
“In the end, it was your quick thinking that achieved the rescue.”
Elizabeth could not see how quick thinking hadentered into it, but before she could ask, he continued speaking. “I should perhaps better account for the, er, depth of my hostility. Wickham was a great favourite with my father, but my friendship with him was finished while still a schoolboy.”
“I have heard his claim that your father left him a legacy, a valuable living—but you would not give it to him. I suppose he lied.”
“Only if he neglected to mention that he was paid three thousand pounds to sign away any rights to it.”
She sat up straight, looking at him. “Truly? Why, it is positively criminal to make such claims on you now, then!”
But he only sighed again. “That, along with another thousand my father left him, satisfied the monetary requirements of the will. But he wanted the obligations and commitment of family…to the point of attempting an elopement with my fifteen-year-old sister. I have no doubt of your secrecy on this matter—I only hope you might more fully understand how the very mention of him creates misery for me. I will admit that I have wished to throw that punch for several months now, and was finally given an excuse.”
His young sister?Elizabeth could only gape, shaking her head in disbelief. “No,” she whispered. “He is a monster.”
He hesitated, piercing her with the intensity of his gaze even in the dim carriage, and then added, “Especially when it is you who shows interest in him. There is no excuse for my jealousy—it was never within your power tounderstand how great a scoundrel he is, and I certainly enlightened no one.”
We argued over Wickham because Darcy wasjealous?
“That seems incredible. Before today, you did not even like me.”
He huffed a soft breath of what might have been laughter, and before she could even realise what had happened, his mouth was on hers, his big hands alternately framing her face or his fingertips threading through her hair, stroking her scalp.
At first Elizabeth was shocked, holding still as a trapped bird, her heart beating wildly. Yet, the astonishment could not remain, not with the taste of him, the heat of his mouth, igniting a fervour in her blood. Before she knew she would evenwantto touch him, her own hands were seeking, tracing the breadth of his shoulders, searching, even slipping beneath his coat to find more of his precious warmth and closeness. It was the kiss from her memories except more, even, as if the fire of his passion had kindled ever more hotly in the interim, striking sparks everywhere they touched.
“In case you were unsure,” he said, spreading kisses up her jaw to a delicious place below her ear, “I have been dying for this—to hold you, to kiss you, to make you mine.”
“I cannot think,” she murmured. “I cannot tell whether I am still dizzy or if I have forgotten how to breathe.”
