Danger With Darcy, page 4
Her gaze softened, and she leaned forward to press a kiss to his cheek. “You are a true romantic, Fitzwilliam. I would not have expected it from you.”
“I do like to remain in possession of some mystique, dear lady.” He was tempted to pull her into his arms, but he knew if he kissed her, one kiss would not be enough. They would soon find themselves back on that bed, and daylight would be wasting. With a sigh of regret, he forced himself to stand, looking down at her. “We should leave when you are ready then.”
She nodded. “I am ready.”
He strode into the kitchen, finding a dented copper pot on one of the shelves. “Very well. Allow me to fetch snow to ensure the fire goes out. I would hate to burn down the place that offered us sanctuary.”
With a nod from her, he exited the house, though it was a bit of a struggle to open the door. They must have gotten two feet of snow, and it would be difficult to walk through. Once again, he second-guessed himself, but then he heard a wicker in the distance and looked up, calling, “Goliath?”
With a chuffing sound, the horse came running into sight, and Fitzwilliam had never been so pleased to see Goliath in all his life. The black stallion was still clearly a little bit frazzled, but he didn’t seem to be in the throes of panic. Fitzwilliam set down the copper pot so he could examine the horse, determining he was in reasonably good shape.
Maybe he had found shelter somewhere, or he was built better to resist the elements, but the horse seemed virtually unscathed after a night spent possibly in the snowstorm. His saddle was missing, save for one strap that remained wrapped around him, and Fitzilliam wondered how the horse had managed to shred it. He had likely gotten caught in some sort of entanglement, like a tree or bushes, and had jerked until it broke when he was in such a frantic state.
Fitzilliam patted the horse. “Stay, my fine fellow. We shall come to you in a moment.” He bent down and retrieved a pot full of snow and strode back into the cottage. He was suddenly far more confident about finding Longbourn or Netherfield, and he gave Lizzy a cheerful grin as he dumped the snow on the fire he had just rebuilt. “Goliath has found us. We shall make good time on him.”
Her eyes widened, and she seemed shocked. “I had feared he would not fare so well. Is he in shape for us to ride?”
“He seemed fit and fair to me, but he has lost his saddle.” As he spoke, Fitzilliam went to the bed to strip off the thin blanket. “I think this will do for a makeshift arrangement.”
A few moments later, he exited the cottage, and Darcy put the blanket on the horse’s back. He lifted Lizzy up, this time not bothering to apologize when he cupped her buttocks and massaged them for a second longer than necessary once she was seated on the blanket, this time sitting side-saddle, sans saddle, like a proper lady.
The horse was a good sixteen hands, and without stirrups to assist him, Fitzilliam had to bring the horse over to the porch and use it as a makeshift mounting post. Fortunately, Goliath had retained his bridle, so he was still able to help steer the horse in the right direction.
They rode for a while, until a building came into sight. There was still some fog in the air, so it took a little more riding before they could make out for certain that it was Longbourn.
“Oh, we are home.” She snuggled against him and then stiffened slightly. “Things will have to change until we are married though. We will not have any time alone together.” She sounded mournful.
“We shall make it work, my love. Do you have any objection to being wed by special license?”
She turned her head upward so she could look at him. “Do you wish to be so hasty? I fear people will suspect the worst if we marry quickly.”
He put his hand pointedly on her stomach. “Perhaps they have good reason to suspect the worst. Even now, my child could be taking root inside you. I would feel more comfortable if we are wed quickly, and you have the protection of my name that much sooner.”
She frowned for a moment, and then her hand settled over his. “Do you really think it could be true? I might be carrying your baby even now?”
Fitzilliam chuckled. “It certainly would not be for lack of trying if you recall, Mrs. Darcy.”
She tapped his hand lightly. “Must I remind you again that I am not quite the official Mrs. Darcy?” Her voice changed, and she sounded fretful. “Your aunt will hate the idea. Lady de Bourgh called on me in London when I was staying with Aunt Gardiner to assure me that whatever rumors were circulating, you would never offer for my hand.”
“Then Lady de Bourgh was wrong. She will either accept you, or she will be cut from my life. The choice is hers.” Fitzilliam spoke firmly, wanting to convey his sincerity. If there was a choice to be made, there was no choice at all. Elizabeth would always come first, and if Lady Catherine could not accept that, he would withdraw his presence from her life.
It wasn’t as though he wanted to marry his cousin. Neither he nor Anne desired such a union, but it was impossible to convince Lady Catherine of that. Perhaps having a new Mrs. Darcy would finally get the point across like a bludgeon to the head.
“In that case, I shall accept marriage by special license, assuming Papa gives his permission.”
“I am certain I can convince him,” Fitzilliam said as they entered Longbourn.
He had cause to doubt that confidence a few hours later, once all the fussing had ceased, and they had spirited Elizabeth upstairs for a hot bath and time in bed. He now stood in front of Mr. Bennet, who seemed reluctant to accept his suit.
“I understand the circumstances are quite compromising, Mr. Darcy, but I fear I cannot allow Elizabeth to throw away her life on an unhappy match just for the sake of convention.”
Fitzilliam scowled. “You are being naïve, Mr. Bennet. It is not simply a matter of ignoring what happened. She will be compromised. Her loss of reputation will affect Miss Mary and Miss Catherine’s prospects as well. Surely, you must see marriage is the only solution?”
Mr. Bennet leaned back, staring at Fitzilliam impassively. He seemed unbothered by the fact he was seated while Darcy stood in a superior position over him. He also seemed undaunted by Fitzilliam’s higher ranking in society. “I was once a foolish young man and mistook attraction for love, Mr. Darcy. It is a most unhappy state of affairs to end up in such a marriage, and I would not curse any of my daughters with it.”
“But—”
Mr. Bennet ignored him. “Heaven knows, Lydia is likely miserable enough, and though she made her bed and must lie in it, I have sympathy for her situation as well. Under the circumstances, I cannot believe that Lizzy will be shunned for not marrying you.”
Fitzilliam rubbed the bridge of his nose. “You must not spend much time in Society then, Mr. Bennet.”
“Indeed. I spend exceedingly little amount as possible. I much prefer the comfort of my books.” He seemed proud about that.
“You are stymying Elizabeth’s chances of moving about in Society by denying the match.” He shook his head. “After you have died, and the entailment passes to Mr. Collins, Elizabeth will need to be able to move freely in society to find a husband. If you deny her this match, she will never find someone to offer for her.”
Mr. Bennet scowled. “I would not have anyone offer for her out of duty or obligation. She will only accept a love match, and I completely endorse that.”
Fitzwilliam dropped into the chair across from Mr. Bennet, feeling worn down from the arguing he’d indulged in for the last twenty minutes, trying to counter Mr. Bennet’s assertions by other means.
Reluctantly, he played his trump card. “I fear you do not know everything that took place last night, Mr. Bennet. Even now, there is a chance Elizabeth could be carrying my child. I would not have a bastard born, and with Lizzy’s birthday only a few months away, we will elope if you do not give permission. She does not require it when she turns one-and-twenty.”
Mr. Bennet’s face darkened. “You took advantage of my beloved daughter? I thought you were a hero who had saved her. Now I find out you played the villain. Shame on you, Mr. Darcy. No wonder you are so eager to propose, lest your actions come to light. Surely, it is you who will be reviled, not my daughter.”
Fitzwilliam blinked at him. Could Mr. Bennet really be so out of touch with how the Ton functioned? Before he could counter the ridiculously naïve assertions, the study door burst open, and it slammed behind Elizabeth a second later.
She strode across the room, hands on her hips, and stood beside the chair Fitzilliam occupied. “Papa, it was not like that at all. Mr. Darcy had proposed before I surrendered my virginity to him, and I have no regrets. I love Fitzwilliam, and I do wish to marry him.” Her voice softened. “Please, Papa, give your consent. I have often said I would only marry for love, and that has not changed.”
Fitzwilliam stiffened when she reached down to take his hand, pulling it up with both of hers and bringing it to her mouth to kiss his fingers. “My opinion of Mr. Darcy has changed significantly over the last twelve-month, and I fear I could not love another the way I do him. We require your blessing, but if you do not give it, it is merely a delay in our joining.”
Mr. Bennet seemed to be at a loss for a moment. He blinked a bit like an owl, studying the two of them. Then he lifted a hand and waved it. “I shall never understand women. It seems a rather abrupt and insane reversal of position, but I do not doubt you. I know you to be honest and forthright, my daughter, and so if you say you love this man, I have no choice but to believe it. I shall give my consent, and you shall be Mrs. Darcy after the banns are read.”
“We shall be married via special license,” said Fitzilliam quickly. “As I said, there are reasons.” He shot a significant look at Lizzy’s flat stomach.
Mr. Bennet’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Then you must marry in haste.”
“Do not look at it that way, Papa. This is merely the fastest way to seal our union, which I most desire.” Lizzy looked at Fitzwilliam, and her eyes were filled with love.
He blinked to keep back tears at the sight of it, and it was difficult to draw in a deep breath for a moment at the lump in his throat.
“I do love him so, Papa.”
“And I love you, Lizzy.” He barely kept himself in check, resisting the urge to kiss her in front of her father. He had already made a grim enough impression on Mr. Bennet, but he hoped years of loving devotion would be enough to prove to his future father-in-law that he truly loved Elizabeth and would do his best to make her happy and care for her.
“In that case, I suspect we must have a celebration. No doubt, your mother is also listening at the door, and she shall soon…” Mr. Bennet trailed off with a sigh.
“Hill, bring the champagne,” called Fanny Bennet about that moment.
Mr. Bennet shook his head. “There we are.” His expression softened. “Truly, if you are happy, then I am happy for you, darling Eliza.” He looked at Darcy, making Darcy stiffen. “And I hope you will bring her as much happiness as she brings you.”
“I shall spend every day of my life endeavoring to do so, Mr. Bennet.”
That promise seemed to be enough to satisfy Mr. Bennet, and they were soon out of his study and joining the others in a celebratory glass of champagne. No doubt, word had reached Netherfield by now that they were safe at Longbourn, so there was no reason to worry or despair. Elizabeth would soon be his wife, and Fitzwilliam was positive it would be a happy life with her.
About the Author
Abbey is a diehard Jane Austen fan and has loved Fitzwilliam since the first time she “met” him at age thirteen upon borrowing the book from the school library. He is the ideal man, though Abigail’s husband is a close second. Abigail enjoys writing various steamy Jane Austen variations, but “Pride & Prejudice” (and Mr. Darcy) will always be her favorite.
Abbey North, Danger With Darcy
