“I do not want to alter my behaviour toward you either.” She blushed, but her voice sounded relieved. After a thoughtful pause, she said, “It is unfair.”
“What is that?”
“That as a man you might parade with a mistress on your arm, and no one would question your honour as a gentleman. But if I were seen in your arms as I was the night of the assembly, even though we are engaged, I would be liable to be called a whore,” she said, whispering the last word.
He well understood that she sought to protect their reputations, but at the moment, all Darcy wanted was for her to love him. His notions of dignity and proper behaviour seemed wholly inconsequential when it came to his feelings for Elizabeth Bennet.
“Say precisely what you want from me, Elizabeth.” He gazed steadily into her eyes with all the affection he held for her. “Do not say what you think I want to hear, or act as you think I believe a lady ought to behave. I have loved you for a long time, and when I recall the sensation of your lips on mine, I feel a white-hot fire course through me. Nonetheless, one word from you, and I promise not to so much as touch you until we leave the church on our wedding day.”
“You do not hold me in contempt for my words or my actions at the assembly?”
He gave her a pleased smile. “It does not make you less respectable in my eyes.”
“And what about the eyes of society?”
Darcy looked around in the stillness and dawning light. “No one else’s opinion matters when we are alone.” He took one of her hands. “What are your true feelings and wishes?”
“My feelings have been in a state of indecision,” she said carefully. She toyed with the buttons on his waistcoat. Darcy’s throat hitched, but he repressed the desire to wrap his arms around her. “A socially correct bride ought to be repressed by delicate sensibilities. But I look forward to making you feel as I did in the tearoom. I know the effect I have on you when you hold me in your arms, and I am thrilled by it.”
Darcy knew, however inappropriate the world might say it was, that they both eagerly wanted the same thing. If her words alone were unclear, then the subtle downward glance of her eyes was far more explicit.
“How…what do you know…?”
She gave a wry smile. “What do you think married women speak of while the men remain at the dining table?”
“That might be fine for the married ladies, but how does that explain your knowledge?”
“The word ‘knowledge’ gives me more credit than I deserve. You have spent enough time with my mother, my aunt Philips, and Lady Lucas to answer your own question. Have you known them to be a soft-spoken and decorous group of women?” A short, dry laugh gave her his answer. “I thought not.”
Still laughing at his expression, Elizabeth took his arm. She was comfortable with him again, and this in turn put him fully at ease for the first time since they parted at the assembly. On such a lovely day, in so secluded a setting, happiness and love were stronger forces to contend with than decorum and proper modesty. The sun was barely above the horizon, and they walked until they found themselves before a patchwork of fields bordered by hedges where a small cottage sat.
“A tenant will inhabit the cottage this autumn, but the roof is damaged,” Elizabeth explained. “Since it need not be done immediately, my father has, of course, neglected to take action. As I am here, I might determine whether it should be patched or entirely replaced.”
“When I asked you to marry me, I did not know that I was also engaging a steward.”
“I am a very accomplished lady, after all.” She returned his smile. “I shall suggest to him what needs to be done, as I am already here. He will be more pleased at being left to his library than irritated that his daughter overstepped her place. He finds me useful,” she added before going inside.
Darcy wondered whether Mr Bennet’s complete contempt for their engagement had less to do with him and more to do with wishing to keep his cleverest and most helpful daughter at home.
He shrugged off his greatcoat as he followed her inside. One step brought them into the sizeable sitting room without any introductory lobby. It had only an uncomfortable-looking sofa and a sturdy table in the room, along with a large fireplace. Darcy offered to go to the next floor to better consider the roof, and Elizabeth said she wished to see it for herself. She led the way to the narrow staircase and, upon climbing, entered the single room with a field bed and an empty washstand. The curtains were gone from the bed’s canopy arch, as were the window coverings, but when properly furnished, it would be a bright and cheerful room.
Elizabeth strode toward the window, and Darcy watched the dust particles float through the sunbeams that came in from the window and the trifling holes above him. His focus then shifted to Elizabeth, and the vision before him stole his breath. He swallowed thickly while she removed her spencer and tossed it aside, looking out the window and saying something about how hot it was. Then she turned around to look up and contemplate the roof. Darcy stared. With the morning sunlight all around her, Elizabeth’s pale gown was virtually transparent.
Darcy could see nearly every curve and shadow, and his imagination had no trouble envisioning the few details still unseen. He abruptly sat on the bed with his back to her and tried to regulate his breathing. The thought that Elizabeth had not been handsome enough to tempt him to dance was unequivocally laughable amid the temptations she now presented. It would require but a slight effort on her part to connect his desires with his actions.
“Fitzwilliam, did you hear me? I think we might repair the roof after all.”
Darcy nodded but still stared at the empty wall. He willed his mind to think about the responsibilities awaiting him in town—anything to distract him from Elizabeth’s pleasing figure and the way her curves would feel beneath his hands. Despite all they said during their walk, years of ingrained modesty and decorum made him adhere to proper behaviour.
Her hand gently touched his shoulder. “Are you well?”
“I am perfectly well, I thank you!” He rose and kept his back to her. He was engrossed in suppressing his passionate desire and could not spare her feelings. Two arms wrapped around his waist. He spun about in alarm and gently pushed Elizabeth from him by her wrists.
“Elizabeth,” he pleaded as he noted the wounded look in her eyes, “you know not what you do to me!”
A smile crossed her features. “Is your resolve to act like a gentleman rapidly failing?”
Darcy nodded.
