He laughed suddenly, reminding her that she quite liked the sound, and inspiring her to tempt him to it often. “I had not thought of that! Shall you be avoiding the fruit in the future, my Lizzy?”
“I should say it is quite too late for that.”
“I am glad to hear it.” He stepped close again, cupping his gloved hand over her cheek. “I would not wish to entrap you, my queen.”
Elizabeth blushed vividly at such a bold endearment. Her gaze faltered, but her smile grew. He tipped her chin back up to meet his eyes.
“I have something for you before we part, my love,” he murmured. “It may be a bit premature for your uncle’s liking, but I wish to give it to you all the same if you will allow it.” He slipped off his gloves, then brazenly tugged the gloves off her hands. Elizabeth watched him with widened eyes as he reached to the inner pockets of his clothing to withdraw a small item. He pulled away the case to reveal the stunning ring.
“An engagement gift,” he bashfully explained, sliding the jewel up one of her fingers. “I had not thought this to be your wedding band, although it can be if you like.” He clasped her fingers, sensitive to her overwhelmed expression. “It was my mother’s and my grandmother’s before her,” he continued softly. “Georgiana thought you would like it.”
Elizabeth swallowed hard and nodded wordlessly. Darcy’s wealth she had suddenly come to take for granted. It was some ephemeral trait he had possessed upon their first acquaintance, now thoroughly forgotten in the light of the tender heart he wore for her alone. The weighty bauble on her finger was a tangible reminder that he came from a world vastly different from her own—a world where one was judged by the size of the ring his wife brandished or the modishness of each dazzling new gown. It was a world where appearances mattered more than substance, connections could make or break a fortune, and honour could be bought for a trifle.
Women—scores of them—far more pretentious and ambitious than Caroline Bingley would be forever vying for her husband’s attention, and she was not naive enough to think that would cease with his marriage. Every move she ever made would be constantly scrutinized and whispered over by those who might desire her fall from grace. This would be her future!
A fist curled in her stomach. What chance had a simple country girl against all the finery of London? She began to blink rapidly. She could not—would not!—be merely a wife of fashion, a healthy young woman required only to produce an heir while her husband slaked his desires elsewhere. A small sound choked from her.
“Is it too much?” he asked hesitantly. He feared that she might feel he was flaunting his riches, though that had not been his intention.Brash idiot, he castigated himself. He had only just overcome her dislike of his pride, yet he could not stop himself from pressing her with what now surely appeared an ostentatious display. His shoulders drooped in defeat and annoyance with himself.
But Elizabeth was shaking her head, her gaze still lowered. “No… thank you, William, it is beautiful. It is just… are you certain you want me?” Her eyes rose to his in earnest appeal. “I will surely seem unsophisticated and shabby in your world. I do not think I could bear it if… if I lost your regard. I feel quite unworthy.” Secure, self-assured Elizabeth Bennet trembled slightly with doubt.
He let out a breath of relief. “You, my Lizzy?” He took her in his arms again. “Did you never wonder why I am yet a bachelor? Why I have never even dared to give any woman a second glance before you stole my entire attention? It was not for want of ‘elegant and sophisticated’ females, I assure you. It was because, until you, I had never encountered a woman of true worth, one I could wish to share my life with. I cannot fix the hour or the spot, but I was well in the middle of my devotion to you before I even knew it had begun. You have grown so steadily in my heart that I do not believe I could ever be content without you, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth. There could never be any other for me.”
He touched her face with his bare fingers, gently tracing each little crevice and groove and delighting in the tickle of her warm breath on his hands. Beneath his tender fingertips, the corners of her mouth lifted once more. Smiling, he tipped his own face near to lightly caress her lips with his own. He nearly came undone when he felt her velvet fingers reach for his own cheeks, teasing his chin.
Elizabeth released a long breath. She began at last to appreciate the struggles Darcy had faced in theton, and yet another mysterious layer to his character peeled away. He was a man without peer, to have been relentlessly pursued as he had and to still emerge unscathed by the temptations and expectations of high society. She pulled a little closer, trusting in his embrace.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered lovingly.
“Hmm?” was the muffled reply.
“I should wish to remain all day as we are, but there is something I must tell you.”
“What is that?” she lifted her mouth from his to nuzzle his cheek.
“Your hands are cold. And so is your nose.”
She drew back with a start, removing her hands from his face and stammering an apology. He laughed easily. “I was not concerned for my own comfort. You, however, must get back home before you take a chill.”
“And before I offend my uncle!”
“Yes, that too.” He returned her gloves, helping her to tug the one over the large ring and enjoying her smile as he did so. “Will there be any objections to us calling around ten?”
“None whatever. I shall tell my uncle you will be desiring a private conference.”
“Thank you.” He pressed one last kiss to her cheek, then swung up on Pluto. “I shall see you shortly, my Lizzy.” With a broad smile and a click to his mount, he galloped away.
Ithadbeensomelong while since Caroline Bingley had been obliged to ride rear-facing in a carriage. Herowncarriage, no less! Lady Catherine had not left that avenue available to her when the four ladies had set out from Darcy House that morning. Anne de Bourgh was bundled and swathed with hot bricks and a bevy of quilts, consuming most of the forward-facing seat, but her spindly mother had managed to find herself a niche, nonetheless.
Caroline cast a dispassionate eye on the great lady. She wondered at the woman’s obtuse lack of discernment. Even in the short while it had taken Darcy’s staff to help the ladies to the carriage, it was obvious to her where their sympathies lay. All treated Anne and even her companion with gentle deference. The highest honour and care were paid to the sickly young woman and her quiet attendant, but Lady Catherine’s machinations were deliberately frustrated at every turn.
Caroline had scarcely refrained from laughing out loud when Lady Catherine required not one but four separate footmen to procure her travelling cloak. “Misplaced, with sincerest apologies, my lady,” had been the dry butler’s excuse. Great had been the tongue lashing she imparted as he had helped her into the carriage, but the butler had merely bowed in simple deference with a quiet, “As your ladyship pleases.” Lady Catherine had exchanged her flushed scarlet countenance for one of flaming violet at the butler’s words. It had been a scene that Caroline was likely to relive with amusement for years to come.
“I say, Miss Bington,” Lady Catherine began.
“Bingley,” Caroline corrected her, indiscreetly omitting the proper address.
Lady Catherine’s eyes narrowed. “MissBingley,” she intoned heavily. “You say your brother has an estate where we shall be welcomed to pass the night. Is it near this… Bennet place?”
