"I believe you desire me."
"I do."
The answer came without hesitation, and the force of it sent heat into her face.
"But you believe that is all I feel?" he demanded. "That I would take what you offered and leave you to bear the consequences?"
Elizabeth looked away. "What else am I to think?"
He stepped towards her, then stopped himself. "Do you truly think me so base? That I would use you so ill?"
His anger struck her harder than any denial. It was not the anger of a man whose intentions had been exposed, but of one who had been deeply insulted. For one terrible instant she wondered whether she had misunderstood everything.
Darcy's voice lowered, though none of the feeling left it. "Whatever you may think of my pride, I have never treated a woman's honour lightly. I would sooner cut off my own hand than take advantage of you."
Elizabeth's throat tightened. "Then why did you suggest this morning that we forget what happened?"
"Because I believed it was what you wanted." Darcy dragged one hand through his hair, his composure nearly gone. "You broke away from me. You were angry with yourself, and when I offered you the means to put the matter aside, you agreed. What was I to conclude?"
"I thought you regretted it."
"And I thought you did."
The words fell between them, but Elizabeth could not bear to remain and examine what they meant. The shame of her accusation, the force of his anger and the confusion gathering around them were suddenly too much.
"I cannot do this."
She turned before he could stop her and hurried towards the doors.
"Elizabeth."
She did not look back. She crossed the drawing room with several faces turning towards her and left through the opposite door before anyone could stop her.
Chapter Seventeen
Darcy knew that Elizabeth would not come to breakfast before Miss Bennet offered any explanation. Her chair remained stubbornly empty, and although he had told himself several times that she might merely be late, he had ceased to believe it by the time Lady Hortensia asked after her.
"My sister has a migraine," Miss Bennet said. "She hopes that a quiet morning will improve it, but she does not feel equal to joining us."
Lady Hortensia immediately instructed that a tray should be sent upstairs and appointed Lady Frances to act as captain until Miss Elizabeth recovered. No one appeared to find the arrangement unusual. Darcy kept his attention upon the coffee before him, aware that Miss Bennet had glanced in his direction several times over the course of the meal.
He had caused this. The anger he had felt upon the terrace had not survived the night. Elizabeth's accusation had wounded him, but he could no longer pretend that it had been entirely unreasonable. He had drawn her away from the others, kissedher until neither of them possessed much sense and spoken to her with an intimacy he had no right to claim. He had thought of marriage, but he had never told her so. He had expected her to understand the seriousness of feelings he had taken considerable pains to conceal.
He loved her. He had known it the previous evening while she danced, her eyes bright and one loose curl falling free as she turned beneath his hand. Watching her come back to him at the end of each figure, he had understood with sudden certainty that he could never willingly accept another partner, in dancing or in life. That knowledge had been with him when he led her onto the terrace, though he had still behaved as though desire were something separate from feeling. A man who loved a woman ought to have made her feel safe in his regard, not left her frightened of his intentions and too distressed to face the company the following morning.
???
The third day of the Challenge was devoted to artistic merit. Lady Hortensia assembled them in the long gallery after breakfast, where easels, paper and drawing materials had been arranged beside the windows. Two points would be awarded for the individual drawing contest and three for a dramatic performance to be prepared during the afternoon.
Miss Lacey was selected at once for the ladies. The gentlemen were less decisive, and after several minutes of evasions and exaggerated modesty, Darcy agreed to represent them. He had received instruction in drawing at the request of his mother and had once possessed some skill, though he had not practised seriously in years.
Lady Hortensia did not provide the still life he expected. Instead, she announced that each competitor was to draw a figure from imagination. "Not a portrait," she clarified. "I do not wish to spend the next hour watching you study one another's noses. A person of your own invention, placed in whatever setting you choose."
Darcy began with the outline of a woman seated beneath a tree. He did not consciously decide upon the turn of her head or the loose curls escaping beneath her bonnet. They appeared beneath his pencil before he considered them. By the time he added the curve of her mouth and the brightness suggested in her eyes, the resemblance had become impossible to ignore.
He paused and looked towards the door. Elizabeth did not appear. Darcy considered beginning again, but too much of the allotted hour had passed. He altered the line of the nose, darkened the hair and attempted to make the face less familiar. The result remained unmistakably Elizabeth Bennet.
Miss Lacey worked at the next easel with much greater confidence. Her drawing showed an elderly woman seated in a kitchen while three children attempted to steal cakes from the table behind her. The figures were lively, the expressions distinct and the whole scene possessed an ease which Darcy's careful work entirely lacked.
