This was where that spark of the divine that Elizabeth had promised was in him would be useful.
Jove!
This was wholly ridiculous. He was wholly ridiculous, and worse, he was the sort of fool who could be rightly laughed at.
He loved Elizabeth. Love, care, family, affection — that was what he claimed to himself were the values of greatest importance.
It would be not merelyridiculous, butstupidas well to prefer his resentment towards Miss Bingley to Elizabeth’s love and hand in marriage.
A fat green caterpillar scrunched itself up and then stretched its way forward on the ground. More of the ants they’d admired earlier. A very small black beetle.
It was unfair.
Why did she expect him to choose between his just and honorable resentment at a crime committed against him, and her? He did not like anything which had the foul scent of a demand.
His own words from earlier echoed through his mind: I wish to become someone who is worthy of my own admiration.
What had he really meant?
Elizabeth did not ask him to choose. She asked him a wholly different question:What sort of man are you?
“Mr. Darcy, please say something. I cannot — I do wish to hear you say something.”
“I find that I am not wholly certain who I am. Or perhaps I fear that the man who I am is not the man who I wish to be — or a man who is worthy of you.”
She solemnly looked at him, and she placed her palm on top of his hand.
Darcy laughed. “You really did refuse me for Miss Bingley’s sake! I did not evenconsiderthat at the time. I was terribly jealous of Colonel Fitzwilliam, and perhaps I had this unworthy, unjust, and unspoken sentiment in my breast that no woman would reject a really favorable match for the sake of a friend.”
Elizabeth giggled. “I was supposed to keep Colonel Fitzwilliam distracted so that he would not bother Caroline as she focused upon you.”
“Upon her orders.” Darcy ruefully shook his head. Elizabeth had been quite devoted to her friend’s interests.
He remembered how close he had felt to Wickham. Grown up together in the same house, playing together in the same rooms, educated together in the same school. Such a friendship would be hard for a loyal woman such as Elizabeth to betray.
“Of course,” she replied with a small smile.
“Well, well.” Darcy rose and he extended his hand to Elizabeth to help her stand from the trunk. She looked up at him smilingly, the curve of her bosom was outlined by her tightly buttoned pale pink redingote. “It is too cold to sit out very long without moving.”
She took his hand and rose, standing and facing him. Just a few inches separated their bodies. They almost brushed against each other.
And suddenly everything changed.
Her soft lips, her tanned cheeks, her fine eyes, dark hair, curls falling around the face and framed by a pink bonnet. There were freckles on her nose. Her closeness. Her scent was heady, with a hint of rose water.
Those lips trembled.
Suddenly Elizabeth kissed him, wrapping her hand around his neck and pulling his head down so she could reach more easily.
Her lips were soft, sweet, sensual. Darcy’s heart nearly exploded from the magical experience.
She withdrew, and looked at him with wide eyes. “I did not mean to—”
He kissed her.
Darcy pulled her tightly against his body, cradled the back of her head in one warm large hand, and with the other he held her close to him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his back, and the kiss went on and on.
She placed a hand against his cheek, pulling softly at his ear, and she moaned against his mouth. The sensation continued forever as they explored each other. Touching, slowly kissing, longing for each other, their noses bumping and rubbing.
