Page 167

His eyes pored over Elizabeth’s light and pleasing figure. A second earlier and I would have been the one by Elizabeth’s side, instead of her loquacious aunt. It was all he could do to master his sensibilities when they were as close as this. Indeed, our wedding night cannot come soon enough.

Every moment spent apart from his betrothed, he best described as lonely. Such were the sentiments of a man who had never thought of himself as missing out on anything, at least not until he met her, and never more than during the span of time between his ill-worded marriage proposal—which Elizabeth rightly spurned—and that glorious day when she accepted his hand.

To think it had been nearly three months ago when, believing he had lost her forever, he had endured the lonely journey back to town after he had done his part in reuniting her sister Jane with his friend Charles Bingley. A thousand happy thoughts accompanied him on his return trip to Hertfordshire once he had received the life-changing intelligence from Lady Catherine de Bourgh, teaching him to hope for a future life with Elizabeth as he dared not allow himself before.

Setting aside his outrage that her ladyship had broken every rule of decorum in coming to Hertfordshire and accosting Elizabeth, he realised what she had to say upon confronting him in town had met with his ardent appreciation. According to his aunt, Elizabeth’s words bore a hint of regret that she could not declare that she was indeed engaged to him as his aunt had accused, and what was worse to her ladyship’s way of thinking, Elizabeth had adamantly refused to promise she would never enter into an engagement with him should he ever make her an offer. How could he help being encouraged by this astounding turn of events brought about by his aunt’s meddling? He knew Elizabeth’s disposition well enough to be certain that had she been absolutely, irrevocably decided against him, she would have acknowledged her sentiments to Lady Catherine with unrestrained frankness and unequivocal forthrightness. On the other hand, even if he had read more into his aunt’s declarations than Elizabeth’s words truly had signified, he knew in his heart he had to give the matter of winning Elizabeth’s hand one last chance before he could silence himself on the subject forever.

Despite all his aunt’s dire prognostications, having surrendered his heart to Elizabeth so long ago and having won her heart in turn, for Darcy, no amount of mortification proved unbearable, even the near-constant society of her Hertfordshire friends and acquaintances.

Darcy crossed his legs. I can well imagine that Elizabeth would find evenings in company with the likes of Lady Catherine as equally discomforting as I find spending time with Mrs. Philips. At least, Mrs. Philips gave no appearance of disdaining him whereas his aunt openly despised his betrothed. Her letter to him decrying the folly of his marital plans had been scattered with language so abusive, especially of Elizabeth, that he determined should he never lay eyes on his aunt again, it would be just as well.

My, how things have changed, for I recall the time when I never thought I would find myself in such a place as this. Yet, here I sit. What’s more, there is no place on earth I would rather be if it meant being separated from my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

His eyes met hers from across the room. Her amazing dark bewitching eyes. Darcy shifted in his seat as an arousing sense of anticipation washed over him, and he wished they were not merely betrothed, but already man and wife.

Then she tore her eyes away from his, and she hastened out the door. Where is Elizabeth going? Whatever had been the impetus, watching Elizabeth bolt from the room sent his heart racing. A notion of following her consumed him.

Does she truly mean to abandon me—forcing me to endure her insufferable aunt alone? What have I done to warrant such an unenviable fate?

PART TWO

THE KEY TO HIS HEART

Elizabeth stood behind the partially opened door, which afforded her just enough seclusion to espy her betrothed without drawing everyone’s attention. Will my heart always sing this same sweet serenade each and every time I behold his striking person? He had that certain air about him that distinguished him from every other person in the room.

Everything about this man excited her: the soul-piercing look in his eyes, the velvety rich baritone of his voice, the way he moved across the floor. Elizabeth’s mind wandered to the time she first saw him at the Meryton assembly and that intense moment when their eyes met from across the crowded room. What intrigue had surrounded his entrance: Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the young master of Pemberley in Derbyshire—tall, handsome, and most importantly, he was a single man with more than ten thousand pounds a year. Then, everyone soon discovered him to be proud and above his company. Elizabeth had been on the receiving end of the sternest of his disapprobation when she overheard him tell his friend Charles Bingley that she was fairly tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. Oh, what a mistake that had turned out to be, subjecting them to conflict and drama as Elizabeth swore she would hate him for all eternity. How she had despised him for his arrogance and what she had once believed as his indifference towards the feelings of others.

What a thin line it is between love and hate indeed, for his having since proved himself to be the best man she knew, she was certain that her love for him would last for all eternity.

Elizabeth, now fully aware that this man who might have any woman he desired did not look at her to find fault but out of love and affection, could say with certainty that he was decent and kind. His selfless generosity on my sister’s behalf is a testament to his goodness. Falling in love with Mr. Darcy became so easy once she had made a start.

She would not venture to say he was without fault. However, her aunt Gardiner had it right upon first making his acquaintance at Pemberley when she said he had not an ill-natured look. She went on to say there was something pleasing about his mouth when he spoke. And there was something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart.

A wave of heat spread over her body when, after a moment, her eyes met his. Mischief graced her countenance as Elizabeth, with a slight shift of her head, silently beckoned he join her. Darcy uttered a few imperceptible words to Bingley, who sat next to him, and then stood and walked to her. Undetected by the room’s other occupants, Elizabeth captured his hand and started leading him down the hall.

“What are you about?”

“You looked as though you needed rescuing. Pray follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“For once, I find my aunt and my mama gave voice to reason. You, sir, appear in great need of sustenance. I have been busy taking measures to redress their complaints.”

“I wondered what I had done to cause you to abandon me earlier.”

“Apparently, you did not hear my mama decrying your emaciated state.”

“I dare say one would have had to be deaf not to have heard her.”

“Mr. Darcy, your abundant power of ignoring the ridiculous amazes me.”

“Actually, my mind was more agreeably engaged, contemplating the number of days until I am allowed to sate my desire for sustenance of a different kind.”

Elizabeth bit her lowered lip to mask her astonishment. “Well, sir, I do hope you will enjoy what I am offering instead.”

Darcy’s expression upon entering the room and espying the arrangements Elizabeth had made was just what she had hoped it would be: wide-eyed with a stunning smile that unvaryingly unleashed waves of joy in her heart.

In the short time she was away, Elizabeth had exercised extraordinary measures overseeing the preparation of a small feast of seasonal fruits, assorted breads, cheeses, and wine for Darcy’s pleasure.