Darcy placed the brandy glass to the side, still half full.
He pulled up the tilted writing surface of the desk, and quickly penned a letter to his steward on a matter that he had just remembered. Then setting that sheet aside to dry, after he scrawled his signature on the bottom, Darcy embarked upon the production of a longer letter to Georgiana.
He began by describing the afternoon party. The rooms, the chief persons of the neighborhood, and that there was dancing — somehow it seemed more pleasant in the letter than it did in Darcy’s memory. His pen had a mind of its own, and within a few minutes what flowed from it was a detailed accounting of the dancing and flashing eyes of Elizabeth Bennet, her dark hair that had a tint of auburn in the sunlight from the window, her long eyelashes, knowing expression, excellent figure, and the way she smiled at him confidently when she challenged him or disagreed with his words.
When the page was full — both sides — Darcy yawned and picked up what he had just written to study.
The deuce.
This all made him sound like he was half in love with Miss Elizabeth after one proper conversation with the creature.
He wasn’t.
Nonsense. Deuced nonsense.
She was a pretty thing… light figure, fine curls falling over her hair, the black slippers she’d worn, with just a hint of white stockings and ankles visible. The way that her evening dress had shown off a modest expanse of her chest, the line and curve of her leg underneath the dress.
That letter… no. He’d need to begin it again, and write something different to his sister tomorrow. He could not sendthis.
By George, he was fagged.
Blown out candles, rubbed eyes, and a return to bed. Darcy quickly fell into a sleep filled with dreams of taking Elizabeth Bennet in his arms and kissing her while they talked upon all sorts of topics. Dreams that while more pleasant by far, were in their own way as disturbing as the nightmare that had awoken Darcy from his first slumber.
Chapter Four
“No, no, no — I do notadmirehim.”
Elizabeth laughed merrily as Charlotte raised her eyebrows skeptically. “No!Mr. Darcy? The man who is too far above us to see any politeness as a personal requirement? The man who will discourse at proper length upon how he has no need to speak to those beneath him, if he does not wish to, and that it is not their place to judge him — Imight, maybe, perhapshave admired him if he were not so arrogant, if he were not so… Gah!”
Elizabeth threw her hands up and laughed again. “No, no, no — I do not like Mr. Darcy; I do not admire him; I do not wish for his esteem. There is no intention to set my cap towards him, as you seem to suggest. My bonnet shall remain straight.”
Charlotte pulled Elizabeth out of the way of a deep puddle left by the early morning rain. Elizabeth shook her head bemusedly glancing back at the muddy water. She’d nearly walked right through it in her distraction, and her petticoats would have ended up six inches deep in the mud.
“So we both agree that with his fitted coat,” Charlotte slyly winked at Elizabeth, “and the wide shoulders and his very tall form, that Mr. Darcy is a fine looking figure of a man?”
“Well, yes…” Elizabeth replied to her friend dreamily. The sun caressed her face, and she saw a sudden vision of Mr. Darcy, holding himself high on his crutches, with that sort of boyish smile that he got as he talked to her last night and teased her back. His arms bulged as he held himself up.
“I’d never have imagined,” Charlotte said, “that a man could appear so much the sportsman, so capable, and so entrancing…” Charlotte licked her lips and dreamily sighed. “So entrancingly attractive while having such a disability.”
An odd, twisted jealousy arose in Elizabeth upon hearing her friend talk about Mr. Darcy in such a way.
Whoops!
She tripped on a stick disguised under the piles of leaves that lay deep on the side of the road where the two of them walked. Elizabeth laughingly ran forward waving her arms to keep her balance.
“I’m fine, I’m fine!” Elizabeth replied when Charlotte worriedly caught up with her.
“Are you certain — I doubt you would manage to be such a compelling vision as Mr. Darcy if you could not walk.”
Elizabeth stuck her tongue out at Charlotte.
Shewasjealous to hear her friend speak with such lewd intensity about Mr. Darcy. And Elizabeth realized that she very much wanted Mr. Darcy to admire her.
Likely he did, because he had complimented her in a way that she suspected was unusual for him.
And he had apologized for insulting her — before of course explaining that he had been wholly right to disdain everyone.
“He does apologize.” Elizabeth said, “Not everyone is willing. I admirethat.”
