Mr Darcy's Fight for Love, page 9
“Mr Darcy’s reaction makes sense now, maybe they were rivals,” Elizabeth whispered, disappointed.
“Most probably,” Sophie said, “but while Mr Darcy has led, since then, a respectable life, the viscount continued his adventures, we have material proof...”
Elizabeth approved, “Lady Roxanne Russell’s cheeks on fire!”
Sophie recounted to Jane many details about their morning visit. When, at the end of the story, she stood up excited and exclaimed, “Officially in seven years this is my first gossip!”—they all three burst into laughter.
“I am sorry to gossip and laugh, I despise Lord Devonshire for his kind of life but I also condemn Roxanne. I do not see any possible circumstance that allows a woman to behave in that way.”
Although she laughed, Elizabeth was not happy. She had felt a certain attraction to the viscount—that could not be denied. He was different from Darcy, he was sparkling and had such a peculiar way of treating ladies…which, in the end, proved to be his weapon, not quality.
Chapter 17
On the way to Darcy’s place, as the evening before, Elizabeth was apprehensive. But, this time, for different motives. They had been so close to confessing how they felt when the viscount’s interruption made her lose confidence in her own feelings. It was disappointing that it took so little to question again her wish to deepen the relationship with Darcy and eventually arrive at a new proposal.
She did not know how to face their meeting, what to say, how to act. She was saved by Georgiana, who welcomed them with such joy that most of Elizabeth’s unease faded away.
She had often imagined Darcy’s London home but never the majestic three-storey building that appeared to be more a palace than a house. She admired the large hall and the stairs in green marble that went to the next levels. They entered a charming parlour with a panoramic view of a garden that took Elizabeth’s breath away.
Darcy used every opportunity to fix his gaze on her, he wanted to guess her state of mind before he had the opportunity to talk. And he did not lose any time. As soon as his sister left her side to chat with the other guests, he approached and offered to show Elizabeth some works of art, statues and paintings, in a hall on the first floor. “Please come,” he said, “Charles also will be there with Miss Jane.”
Elizabeth searched for Jane and indeed she was heading out the door with Charles. Their little escape was approved by Mrs Bennet, who made a gentle sign for them to go. She was glad that the Gardiners were also part of the gathering, promising a pleasant evening as she had so many in the last week. In truth, Mrs Bennet was happy and seeing Mr Darcy’s house she was ready to like him too.
∞∞∞
The two pairs climbed the stairs first Charles with Jane and, at some distance, Elizabeth with Darcy. They were silent, not knowing how they could open the discussion. The last time they shared a significant moment, unfortunately, was interrupted by the viscount. A slight embarrassment was floating between them and it seemed the magic had vanished.
The small and intimate drawing-room they entered was far from the art hall Darcy had promised. It was a woman’s place and the portrait on the wall told Elizabeth it was Darcy’s mother’s room. The young woman from the painting, looking at her child, was so delicate and loving that Elizabeth relaxed, for the first time that evening. Touched by the painting she looked around; it was a nice cosy room with lace curtains and a wide sofa to spend a lazy afternoon. His intentions were clear; he wanted her to see his real life and make her feel at ease. She was still looking around when his voice awakened her from reverie.
“I am sorry, Elizabeth for the other night, please forgive me!”
Although surprised, she felt good; he called her Elizabeth with so much love despite his sad face. He was begging her to forgive him. “I was angry at that man who destroyed our perfect moment, but it is not a way to behave near you!”
Feeling sorry for his torment Elizabeth gently laid her hand on his elbow. They were standing in front of a large window looking outside at the snowflakes that were dancing before landing on the ground. It was not cold enough to settle, but still, the show was marvellous.
“First,” she said, “where are Jane and Mr Bingley, Fitzwilliam?”
She emphasised his first name because everybody else called him Darcy.
Finally smiling, he took her hand to his lips in a slow gesture, not leaving her eyes for an instant. She blinked and slightly flushed, not out of shyness but because of the intense emotion that his lips, on her skin, triggered.
“They are in the painting hall,” he answered, still looking at her.
“And why are we alone here?”
But then it was no longer essential to have an answer; he still had her hand in his hand, so she observed the painting and asked, “What did your mother call you?”
He kissed her hand again. Delighted by her question his eyes blinked with emotion, “Fitz,” he said. “Mama called me Fitz.”
“Fitz,” she repeated, and he could hear in the air his mother’s voice calling him.
“Why are we alone here, Fitz?”
“Because I want you to forgive me, Elizabeth. Do you?”
As she was not answering, he continued, “Enough to let me kiss you?”
She would have never imagined such a powerful emotion that could impede her from moving or talking. It was like her heart was beating in her head while deep down in her body she could feel an unknown answer to his words and his touch. She removed her hand, continuing to look at him, their gaze intense. She did not recognise her voice when she said, “We have to talk first, Fitz,”
The man in front of her nodded, “Yes, Elizabeth.”
“But not now, we have to return, the others will discover us missing.”
“When, then?”
If she closed her eyes she could see the snowflakes gently travelling to the ground; her own feelings were like them moving to a territory where she could finally understand them…she enjoyed the sensation, there was no hurry, in the end.
The doors to the dining room were open, as she entered the parlour alone. She observed the colonel talking to her father, he bowed from a distance as happy to see her as she was to see him. Her father’s face bore no cloud so she could imagine their conversation was on a better subject than Lydia.
She observed the colonel’s quick look at Darcy…at Fitz—she thought. Her body was again inundated by the fever she felt for the first time in Anne Darcy’s drawing-room. She wondered if men shared confidences the way women did. It could be an explanation for the colonel’s gaze to Darcy. If they did confess one to another, Darcy’s cousin certainly knew about his sentiments. But hopefully not about the discussion at Rosings. Then she looked after Darcy. She found him coming toward her to lead her to dinner, this time with no dangers around. He smiled and again her heart galloped in happiness.
“When do you think we could talk?” Darcy whispered as soon as they sat at the table. Elizabeth stared at him with reproach and then looked around to see if anyone had heard his words. But near her was the colonel who was talking to Jane and in fact, nobody cared about them. From time to time, Darcy ‘accidentally’ touched her hand or her elbow when he took a slice of bread or the salt from the table. The first time she really believed it was by chance, but then she understood he was searching for those occasions when her hand was on the table. It was a game she had never played.
“When Miss Elizabeth?” he asked again, and she was sure he would not stop until he got his answer.
“Tomorrow, at breakfast?” she asked, looking at him.
“I could never come to Lady Sommershire’s home, uninvited,” he replied with a worried face. He was searching for solutions as it was vital for him to talk to her.
“Not to Lady Sommershire’s but to my parents, they take breakfast in their dining room. I will ask my father to invite you.”
Just after dinner, she plotted with Jane and both asked permission for Mr Bingley and Mr Darcy to come in the morning for breakfast.
Although Mr Bennet agreed to invite the two gentlemen, he still had reservations. He whispered to Elizabeth “Do you think we can use Lady Sommershire’s kind invitation to have our own guests so often?”
“Yes father, remember it is the duke who decided.”
∞∞∞
While Mr Bingley insisted on leading Jane and her parents with his carriage, Elizabeth and Sophie found themselves alone, happy to share the evening’s events, in complete safety as Lord Montrose was riding near their carriage.
“Where did you disappear to, Miss Bennet?” asked Sophie with a false angry tone as soon as they left.
Elizabeth blushed, but in the carriage’s darkness it was impossible to observe, “He invited me to see his works of art…”
“And…” Sophie was pressing her.
Elizabeth hesitated, she made such confidences only to Jane. However, lately, her friendship with Sophie had grown and she felt she could unveil all her secrets. And even more…With Jane, they had never crossed a certain boundary into the intimacy related to the man they liked or loved. Jane was shy and she could not speak about subjects more intimate than a kiss on the cheek.
“And…” Elizabeth finally said, “…he took me to his mother’s drawing-room.”
In the darkness, Elizabeth could not see her friend’s face, but she heard a “Good for you!” said from the heart.
“And…?” Sophie was eager to learn more. It was so enjoyable to have a friend like Elizabeth and discuss any subject…even the most intimate ones.
“The emotion between us was so strong, it was impossible to talk,” Elizabeth whispered although nobody could hear them.
“I know what you mean,” Sophie whispered in her turn.
“I asked father to invite him tomorrow for breakfast…”
“Splendid!” Sophie cried. “We will have breakfast together, I hope your parents will approve!”
Elizabeth nodded, she knew how to convince her mother.
“And then,” she said already dreaming, “I think we could go for a walk in the park.”
Chapter 18
“I do not remember a time when I was happier,” Sophie declared next morning at the end of breakfast.
She was looking at Lord Montrose who spoke to Darcy and Mr Bennet and dared to imagine they would have a life together in a short time.
“Let us go to the park and walk, as it is the first snow this year,” she said, looking around the table.
It had snowed all night and a thin layer of white covered the grounds. It was a gorgeous sight completed by the trees powdered with snow.
Mr and Mrs Bennet declined the invitation, but they sat near a window to see the young people enjoy the winter.
“It is a nice time for us, my dear!” Mr Bennet said while he sipped his tea.
“Indeed, it is Mr Bennet, and I am glad to find you more relaxed. And all because of Mary…who could have predicted such a thing? If you had told me this two months ago, I would have laughed.”
“I know, I am almost ashamed how little we knew about her; did you see what an accomplished rider she is?” Mr Bennet pointed out Mary and the duke riding in the distance —as they did each morning at the same hour.
“I am wondering what Lizzy is doing,” Mrs Bennet said watching her daughter who was walking near Mr Darcy. “I would have never suspected she liked that gentleman.”
Mr Bennet only nodded, he had meditated a great deal last night about that situation “He is a fine young gentleman, you have to agree.”
“I do,” Mrs Bennet replied, remembering his house and the excellent dinner from last night. “But still I find him less agreeable than Mr Bingley or even Lord Montrose.”
“Maybe we need time to get accustomed to him.”
“I am still wondering what happened to that gentleman who took Lizzy to the table the night of Mary’s engagement,” Mrs Bennet asked with some curiosity.
“Lord Devonshire,” Mr Bennet said, “the best decision is to keep him far from Sommershire. I do not care for the idea of two pretenders to one of our daughter’s hand. Let us hope Mr Darcy has serious intentions.”
∞∞∞
Mr Darcy’s intention was indeed earnest; he had arrived determined to ask Elizabeth to be his wife. He was also decided to avoid any subject that could spoil the wonderful atmosphere that grew between them a day before. He waited for the two other couples to take some distance and then he said in haste, “Let us discuss, Elizabeth!”
Her hand again a happy prisoner of his arm, she felt ready to discuss. She needed to know more about the story between Darcy and the viscount before the wind of happiness would blow between them again.
“Why were you so angry?” she asked.
“Besides the fact that I was on the verge of telling you something vital for me and he brutally interrupted us?”
“Yes!”
“He was completely impolite, indelicate, intrusive…do you want more?”
“I agree,” Elizabeth said, “I also was disturbed by his intrusion, but I was not as upset as you were. What is really between you two, Fitz?”
“Do not call me Fitz please…unless you want to be kissed in front of your family and friends,” he said half-jokingly with a harsh voice that conveyed all his emotion.
Elizabeth’s gaze was so playful that he stopped to look at her, “Should I call you, Darcy, then?” she asked and then she continued, “Come, walk! Before Jane and Mr Bingley approach us and hear what you are saying.”
They strolled in silence for some time, “Speak, Fitz!”
“It is a story ten years old.”
“I suspected,” she said. “Did you love the same lady?” she asked, making it even harder for Darcy to tell her the truth. She was a decent young lady from a more than nice family and environment. He was sure in her world the worst possible story was that of Lydia and Wickham.
“No, it was about a sort of competition he initiated between us, I swear I tried to get out of his game, but he had an obsession.”
Elizabeth thought about the viscount’s friendly smile, which seemed so sincere and wondered if Darcy was not exaggerating again as he did with that anger.
“It is hard to believe, I know because he knows how to look innocent…while I was a mad man.”
Indeed that is the problem—Elizabeth thought. But then she remembered Lady Roxanne and her distress and, at the same time, she recalled all her experiences with Darcy. He could be arrogant, even hurt people, but that was because he always spoke what he thought and felt. He was inconsiderate but not a liar, or a story-teller. He may have many flaws, but she had never doubted his sincerity. In fact, she even loathed his sincerity which had hurt her in the past.
“I do not lie, Elizabeth!” he said like a pledge.
“I know you do not,” she whispered. “Yet I did not like how you reacted.”
“I know, I am sorry, but it was the most important moment in my life and he spoiled it.”
“The most important?” she asked, feeling the emotion mount in her body.
“Yes, Elizabeth!” he whispered, not looking at her. “I was near the moment I have dreamed of for months…the very one when you forgive me and…”
Elizabeth, without reflecting, put her gloved hand on his mouth to stop him from telling more. It took some moments to understand that her gesture could have been seen by all the people around. She looked around in haste, but nobody was looking at them—except at the dining room window her mother, who was smiling. Mrs Bennet did not say a word but wondered when to plan the next wedding as she had already two in the near future.
“Elizabeth, maybe I was an unconventional young gentleman who partied a little too much, but I never crossed a certain line; I never upset people around me. George…”
“George?” Elizabeth asked.
“Viscount Devonshire was a vile young man who took pleasure in intrigue, machinations and gossip. He made my life a hell. If I made a move the next moment, he was in my way trying to prevent me from achieving my goal, stealing my ideas. He copied my way of dressing, he ordered the same ties I wore or the pieces of jewellery I favoured. He was suffocating me with no reason just for fun, in a horrible game he enjoyed. It was my dear father’s death that woke me up from that nightmare. I left London and moved to Pemberley…to take care of Georgiana, building a healthy and enjoyable life, dreaming of a family.”
He paused to regain his breath but then he continued with the same determined tone, “What do you think I felt when I saw him after ten long years near the woman I love…”
“Darcy!” Elizabeth cried, making Sophie turn to see them.
“Yes,” he whispered, “I said it, but it was not a secret. I need an answer Elizabeth!”
“And I need some time, please do not rush me.”
It was what he agreed to do although his eyes were sad and worried for the first time that morning.
At that point, a snowball hit Darcy in the back. Curious he turned to find Bingley and Jane laughing like two silly children while his friend prepared to hit him again. It took Darcy just a moment to enter the game. The two men ran into the middle of the park, leaving their ladies laughing. When Lord Montrose joined them, the enjoyment became general.
Even Mr and Mrs Bennet enjoyed the play while in the distance Mary got off the horse and ran to the happy gathering shouting to her future husband, “Come, darling, come!”
To everyone’s surprise, the duke got off the horse and approached the group. They did not dare to throw snowballs at him, but Mary did, laughing and inviting Thomas to enter the game. And from that moment on, it became clear that Mary could urge him to play in the snow and finally be happy.
It was the most joyous moment Sommershire Palace had seen in years. They played like children and cried and even the ladies dared to throw a snowball at each other.
