Georgiana looked surprised, but when Kitty politely asked for her assistance, they left together. Now only Jane and her mother remained, and after sitting still for five minutes, Mrs Bennet got up and demanded her eldest daughter speak with her in private, taking her from the room. Elizabeth, who had been sitting in the window seat with Darcy, shrugged, forcefully leant her head back, closed her eyes, and let out a sigh of exasperation.
Although Darcy could never condone Mrs Bennet’s contrived spectacle, he kept his silence and instead watched as the sunlight brightened Elizabeth’s complexion. Her dark eyelashes swept across her cheekbones, and he admired her sun-kissed ringlets. His arm was resting on the window casing, and almost of their own volition, his fingertips stretched out to stroke her cheek. Elizabeth visibly relaxed and smiled as she reached out her hand, placed it on his knee, and slowly stroked her fingertips back and forth.
Darcy’s face grew warm, and his tongue appeared to be fixed to the floor of his mouth. He considered the possibility that Elizabeth’s gesture was an innocent display of regard and wished he knew the manner in which to proceed that would give the least offence. Their first kisses were impulsive actions in an emotional moment, and he was uncertain how receptive she would be if he attempted to repeat that wonderful experience.
Her eyelids opened, and when her eyes fixed so expressively on his, Darcy could see they plainly denoted how well she understood him.
He was unsure who moved first, but in a heartbeat, his hands moved to hold the sides of her face while she brought her hand around his neck. This kiss differed from the ones they had shared before. There was nothing timid about it, and excitement shot through Darcy when Elizabeth parted her lips and gave herself freely to the passion of his kiss. She leant in closer, and Darcy easily lifted her onto his lap. When his tongue explored her mouth, he abandoned himself to a rush of delightful sensation. Her hand lifted from where it lay across his shoulder and he moaned in delight when she ran her fingers through his hair.
Darcy did not know how much time had passed—minutes, hours, days—he could not be sure. Raising his mouth from hers, he gazed into her eyes and willed her to know how much he loved her. He felt a small stab of guilt as he looked down on her swollen lips and remembered he had yet to obtain her parents’ consent to marry. After he had finally earned Elizabeth’s respect and affection, he could not allow his desire for her to frighten her.
“I am sorry for being carried away.”
She refused to move from his lap. “A woman’s reputation of virtue is one of her most precious possessions. I hope I have not lost your respect because I wish to kiss you as much as you wish to do the same to me.”
Darcy shook his head. “Elizabeth, you must have prayed for me to be punished for my thoughtless words at that assembly,” he said. “You have been duly avenged. I am certain that I shall always find you to be handsome enough to tempt me.”
“But will you think me handsome even when I am old and nearly past everything but tea and quadrille and cannot see without spectacles?”
“Always, dearest Elizabeth.” His voice was ragged, and she caressed his cheek. “As tempting as you are, I am surprised at being left alone for so long.”
“I am certain my mother wants to give you ample time to petition for my hand, Mr Darcy.”
“You have always called me Mr Darcy. It is so formal.”
“What do those closest to you call you?”
“Darcy.”
“That is hardly a relaxed form of address for your wife to use.” They both grinned at the word “wife.” “How does Georgiana address you?”
“She stands so much in awe of me that I wonder whether she would not prefer to call me Mr Darcy.”
She laughed. “I would like to call you Fitzwilliam when we are alone.”
“I have no objection.”
“Well then, Fitzwilliam, will you kiss me again or go to my father to obtain his consent?”
“The former is more to my liking, but I should like to kiss you anytime I wish.” Darcy shifted her off his lap and rose. “I must go instantly to your father. You might speak to your mother. She has been gracious to give us ample time.” He parted from Elizabeth with a kiss to her hand and purposefully strode toward the door. Upon opening it, he halted, for Mrs Bennet, having dawdled about in the vestibule to watch for the end of the conference, was directly in front of the door.
“Will Mr Bennet see me, madam?”
Mrs Bennet quickly rang for Mrs Hill to enquire where Mr Bennet was and was told that he had retired above stairs with specific instructions that he would see no one.
“What do you mean? Mr Bennet has no compassion for my poor nerves.”
“Mr Bennet said he would not see Mr Darcy, and neither was there any reason for any ladies to bother him.” The housekeeper then gently suggested that if Mrs Bennet wished the master to be available, she might ask him herself. Darcy stood in silence as the bizarre scene unfolded.
“People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking! Mr Bennet cannot wonder at Mr Darcy’s desire to see him. Why must I make Mr Bennet speak to him?”
At the sound of her mother’s shrill voice, Elizabeth came into the hall, and no sooner had she seen her daughter than Mrs Bennet congratulated Elizabeth on her good fortune. Elizabeth attempted to silence her mother as she prattled away about pin money and carriages in front of him. Mrs Bennet then left with Mrs Hill, complaining all the while.
“What has happened?” she asked when they were alone.
“Your father will not see me.”
“What!” she cried. “Why ever not?”
