“Forgive this intrusion. Has no one warned you not to stray into kitchens during a crisis for fear of conscription into menial labor?”
Fitzwilliam’s solemn features remained unmoving, save the muscle flexing along his lean jaw. Gently ignoring my deflections, he searched my face with those fathomless dark eyes that seemed to see straight through to my soul. I sucked in a swift breath, my pulse skittering under such sudden scrutiny. Had he always affected me so profoundly without my conscious realization?
“You ought not to shoulder every burden without relief.” His gravelly voice wrapped warmly around me, hinting at unplumbed depths beneath that stoic reserve. This was not the Fitzwilliam I once knew. Or had the awkward boy of memory merely ripened into this compelling man without my noticing?
I shook my head, trying unsuccessfully to ignore his nearness. “I am not the one laboring and in need of care. Truly, I am perfectly well...”
But words faltered as I noted the smudges of dirt on his shirt and sleeves. Before my better judgment could intervene, I yielded to the impulse. Stepping nearer, I wrapped my arms about his solid form. Unthinking, I nestled close, softly burrowing my face into his shirt and feeding on the strength I could feel pulsing through his chest.
Fitzwilliam stilled briefly, surprise palpable beneath my cheek. New awareness arced hotly between us. Then his hands slid slowly upward, tentative yet undeniably intimate, as he cupped my shoulders. My senses swam dizzily. Surely, he must feel the wild stutter of my heart where my breast pressed to his?
We remained thus for a moment, just… being near each other. And I could not think of a safer place to be in the whole world. At length, I eased slightly away, abashed by my behavior, yet finding no judgment in the tender eyes searching mine.
“What was that for?” he asked in a husky voice.
“Just… thank you for always knowing precisely when you are needed most.”
But Fitzwilliam Darcy was not so easily fooled. He sensed it—hemusthave—the hunger in the way I had thrown myself at him like the veriest wanton! But if I had acted on feeling, he had scarcely done less. His darkened gaze held more longing than censure for my forwardness. Casting about through the pleasurable disarray of my wits, I seized upon the trifling evidence of fresh mishaps on his shirt.
“Just how did you come to be so very decorated again?” I reached, unthinking, to flick a bit of dried yellow muck from his shirt before my fingers froze midair. Our eyes locked and held, simmering tension suddenly pulsing the space between us. I could not tear my gaze from his lips. What mad impulse had me poised mere inches from embracing potential disaster?
“I…” His throat bobbed. “I confess, I had a small run-in with some rebellious poultry...”
His rough admission broke the charged moment at last. I sputtered a surprised laugh, then gulped a breath that seemed suddenly difficult to draw as I took a careful step back, clasping nervous hands tightly behind my skirts. What was happening here between us? Forces beyond understanding threatened to break every prudent vow. Uncle Gardiner had made me promise!
I gulped. “Well!” False vivacity trembled only slightly through my attempted smile. “Egg yolk, is it? That puts me in mind of why I came into the kitchen. Are you hungry? My stomach is rumbling like an earthquake.”
I turned hastily back to the waiting tea things, grappling to compose reactions Fitzwilliam’s nearness provoked. I could scarcely meet his eyes now without heat flooding my cheeks. When had his presence begun undressing my very spirit? This new air flickering between us defied understanding.
Fitzwilliam lifted the tray, his warm looks speaking beyond platitudes. “Now come, lead on before this band of desperate wanderers forfeit all sustenance.”
A breathless laugh escaped me. Whatever had changed between us, his caring support remained a steadfast foundation beneath my feet. “Well, sir, thus the student surpasses her teacher, for I never aspired to such a lofty turn of phrase! But heaven forbid you spoil me for other men’s attentions now.”
His smile turned boyish and familiar once more. “Perhaps I shall make it my chief ambition henceforth.”
Impetuously, my hand sought his where it rested upon the silver tray. No matter uncertain outcomes or goodbyes looming, just now, Fitzwilliam Darcy was the only friend I wanted in the world. “Then I consider myself in very best care before whatever future brings.”
Hourslater,thedoctorhad come at last to pronounce Mrs. Westing beyond immediate danger. I bid Fitzwilliam and Mr. Bingley farewell at the door, scarcely trusting my voice to remain steady facing fresh parting with Pemberley’s master. No matter that necessity rather than caprice dictated our separation. Gazing into those fathomless eyes, still scintillating with banked warmth from tender moments past, my restless heart cried out against the dictate of reason. What new sorcery had this man unwittingly woven to bind me thus helplessly to his side though miles and duty must shortly intervene?
I watched long after the gentlemen turned their mounts toward distant Pemberley, clinging still to precious final glimpses. Had ever parting smiles held such wealth of unvoiced yearning? What bitter twist of providence or malice tore beloved faces from my reach no sooner than found again?
But silent rebellion mattered little when time and authority conspired as they would regardless of individual wishes. The bills soon must be paid for golden hours stolen out of keeping with prosaic reality’s demands. Head high, I turned resolutely back toward candlelit halls and companions awaiting, endeavoring to steel my own wavering poise.
Twenty-Six
Darcy
Bingleywassinging.Blastthe man. Singing like an intoxicated swain, his head tipped back and his laugh merry as we rode back to Pemberley that evening. I watched him in envy as misery clawed at my throat. His golden dreams mocked my dread-filled heart.
I had never planned for love’s cruel trap when I first pursued Elizabeth. This was supposed to be abouthercourage and sense of self-worth, and fortifying her against whatever charms George might level at her! Yet her smiles intoxicated my starved senses beyond reason. Now, terror mounted with every hoofbeat, taking me farther from her.
Damn fool! My traitorous heart refused to shield itself from fresh wounds as wisdom had urged. Those bewitching eyes had snared me in mere moments. And she was not even eligible for me!
Hot fury simmered—what new separation would Mr. Gardiner enforce? Would he forbid all contact? Even an occasional letter, as a… a brother would write to his sister? And why, in heaven’s name? I vowed I would have answers this time. I knew how to find her now, and even if I could not make her mine in the way my soul longed for, I could at least know that she was well.
But railing changed nothing. Soon, her angelic smiles must fade from memory. What right had I to demand she remain? Yet my spirit screamed in protest, unwilling to surrender her again. Could fate not relent this one time? Had not duty already consumed enough of my life without demanding this ultimate sacrifice?
I passed a haunted glance toward carefree Bingley. Would that I could share such untroubled certainty in new love conquering all sorrow. But providence had granted me no such mercy. The brief hours of joy were already bleeding away into the night.
