A Tender Moment, page 1
Table of Contents
Title Page
A Tender Moment (Darcy and Elizabeth Short Stories, #3)
Part 1 ~ Something So Wrong
Part 2 ~ Not How I Feel
Part 3 ~ Undeniably Real
Enjoy Other P. O. Dixon Books
Acknowledgements
About the Author
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Further Reading: As Good as a Lord: Pride and Prejudice
§ Darcy and Elizabeth Short Stories Series
(Stand-alone books you may read and enjoy in any order)
Pride and Sensuality
Expecting His Proposal
A Tender Moment
Author’s Other Books
Everything Will Change Series
Lady Elizabeth
So Far Away
A Darcy and Elizabeth Love Affair Series
A Lasting Love Affair
‘Tis the Season for Matchmaking
Pride and Prejudice Untold Series
To Have His Cake (and Eat it Too)
What He Would Not Do
Lady Harriette
Darcy and Elizabeth Short Stories Series
Expecting His Proposal
Pride and Sensuality
A Tender Moment
Standalone
Impertinent Strangers
Bewitched, Body and Soul
To Refuse Such a Man
Dearest, Loveliest Elizabeth
Still a Young Man
Love Will Grow
Only a Heartbeat Away
As Good as a Lord
Matter of Trust
Almost Persuaded
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“Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her.”
Jane Austen
Part 1 ~ Something So Wrong
Elizabeth gazed in astonishment at the size of the party assembled at Sir William Lucas’s that evening. As Lucas Lodge neighbored her father’s estate, Longbourn Village, Elizabeth and all her sisters attended. In fact, everyone who was anyone in the town of Meryton and its surrounding villages was there, for this was yet another occasion to better his or her acquaintance with Mr. Charles Bingley. The young man had recently let Netherfield Park. Handsome and exceedingly agreeable, he was a single gentleman from the north of England who happened to be in possession of a rather large fortune.
Indeed, he and his party—his friend Mr. Darcy of Pemberley and Derbyshire, who was far richer and the far more handsome of the two, Bingley’s eldest sister, Louisa, her husband Mr. Hurst, and Bingley’s sister Caroline—had garnered everyone’s curiosity from near and far.
With varying degrees of enthusiasm, the Bennet daughters had looked forward to the evening. For one, it promised the youngest daughters the possibility of such merriment with the officers of the militia that had recently encamped outside of Meryton. Miss Mary Bennet, who, in consequence of being the only plain one in the family, worked hard for knowledge and accomplishments, always welcomed such occasions as another chance to display her talent.
Elizabeth’s eldest sister, Jane, though she would never confess it, was particularly keen on seeing her Mr. Bingley, as those closest to Jane had begun referring to him. Although Jane had known him only a fortnight, her times with him were the making of some of the happiest memories of her life. She danced four dances with him at Meryton. That alone sufficed to excite her eager mama’s hopes. She saw him one morning at his house when the ladies of Longbourn waited on those of Netherfield, and had since dined with him in company four times. Though hardly enough time for her to understand his true character, it was enough to give rise to talk of a pending and most advantageous alliance.
The promise of seeing her dearest sister’s delight in being once again in Mr. Bingley’s company was enough to cause Elizabeth to anticipate the evening with pleasure. How Elizabeth’s heart sang merely recalling her sister’s praise of the young man and their mutual agreement that he was indeed everything a gentleman ought to be.
If only I might say the same of his friend, Mr. Darcy. Just as she did whenever she allowed her thoughts to wander from her sister’s future felicity to the disagreeable Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth silently chastised herself.
To say that the man vexed her at every turn was putting it mildly. Rarely had he spoken a few words to her since first meeting her when he failed to coat his sentiments with condescension and thinly disguised disdain. Why does he even bother speaking with me at all if he only means to be unpleasant and dismissive?
Then, too, were the disquieting bevy of sensations that flooded her being whenever she and the haughty gentleman had the misfortune of being in close proximity—be it sitting next to each other in a crowded room, the incidental brush of either of their arms against the other’s, or the touch of his hand when he deigned to greet her with a modicum of civility. Such dizzying sensations are a consequence of our mutual dislike of each other, no doubt. Elizabeth reminded herself of said reasoning regularly of late.
Not giving much thought to where she was going, Elizabeth soon found herself directly behind Mr. Darcy and Miss Caroline Bingley. In consequence of being so close to the last two people in the room she wanted to speak to, she overheard him remark that he would sooner call Mrs. Bennet a wit.
How dare he level such an insult! Elizabeth was livid and for good reason. The woman of whom he was speaking was her mother. Despite hearing only the end of his speech, and thus having no basis of understanding as to the true extent of his offense, such an affront was unwarranted and would not go unchallenged. Besides, if she said nothing and rather pretended she did not hear his unkind remark to Miss Bingley, the proud man might begin to suspect she was afraid of him.
Elizabeth approached the couple and directed her ire towards the gentleman. “How dare you speak so callously about my mother? You know nothing about her!”
Standing there with an air that proved him wholly unmoved by any feeling of remorse, Darcy said, “I know enough about her to know that she failed to teach you proper decorum. How dare you remark on a conversation clearly not intended for your hearing?”
The second eldest daughter, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was fiercely loyal to her family and friends. It was not that others had not disparaged her mother. Elizabeth’s father, Mr. Thomas Bennet, who was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humor, reserve, and caprice, prided himself on his wont of making light of his dear wife’s deficit of sensibilities and often derided all his daughters as being the silliest women in all of England. However, it was different with family. A family’s liberty always trumped a stranger’s prerogative.
Ignoring the amusement stamped upon Miss Bingley’s face, Elizabeth erased the distance between Darcy and herself. Her argument was not with the silly creature who was supercilious in her treatment of everyone, but with the gentleman who fancied himself above his company.
She strained her neck upward in order to look him straight in his haughty face. She balled her hands by her sides and raised her voice. “Perhaps if you were not so inclined to think meanly of others in comparison with yourself, you would have apologized to me for your poorly chosen words rather than chastise—more accurately—further insult me, Mr. Darcy.”
Unwilling to concede his point, he folded his arms over his broad chest and laced his voice with cool civility. “What did I say that is untrue?”
“This has nothing to do with truth, sir, and everything to do with decency. Not everyone has all your advantages—your wealth and status. I dare say not everyone wants them, especially seeing that they have done nothing to make you a better man. A true gentleman would never utter such unkind words about those who are less fortunate than himself, nor would he look down upon others merely due to the circumstances of their birth.”
“You know nothing about me, young lady, and for you to assume otherwise reflects a fair amount of presumption on your part, does it not?”
“Presumption perhaps, but I know enough about people of your ilk to be certain that I speak the truth, whereas you, sir, will not be bothered to know anyone whom you deem beneath you in consequence.”
“How does that explain my standing here conversing with you?”
“On the contrary, sir, we are not conversing. We are arguing! You would know the difference were you a true gentleman. But as you are not, I find it beneath me to carry on with you in this manner for a second longer.”
Turning hastily, Elizabeth stormed off, leaving Darcy standing there, his mouth agape.
Offending Miss Elizabeth Bennet was the last thing he wanted to do and yet he had managed to do it again.
Ever since I arrived at this place, the notion of seeing her is what gives me hope each day. Yet, every time he opened his mouth around her, the words that fell out only served to annoy rather than enamor her. At first, he had thought it was stimulating: the verbal repartee, her witty responses, her teasing wit and, oh, the teasing turn of her lips and spark in her eye, all with a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner that made it difficult for her to affront anybody.
However, their latest exchange was decidedly different. The teasing turn of her lips had taken on the shape of a definite grimace, and the spark in her eye had borne the unmistakable flash of disdain. Thoughts of just where he had gone wrong accompanied him to the terrace, where he leaned against the railing.
When will I ever learn? It is better to say nothing at all than to say something that puts me further at odds with her or to utter something idiotic just for the s ake of conversation. I’ve grown quite accustomed to fending off women, but I have no wish to do that with her. She is quite unlike any woman I’ve ever known.
This was always happening to him, a consequence of being hopelessly drawn to her but afraid of what would truly happen should he allow himself to get too close. His nights of late had found him falling asleep with aching thoughts of her light, pleasing figure, and awakening each morning with the throbbing hope that soon he would be admiring her remarkably fine eyes—utterly and completely lost in their expression.
Still endeavoring to sort through what had just happened with the bewitching young woman, Darcy turned and gripped the rail. Why is it that I always manage to say the wrong thing to her? It is no wonder she does not bestow her smiles as willingly upon me as she does towards the other gentlemen of her acquaintance.
Darcy folded one arm over the other and stood tall and proud. I do not often find myself in such a state.
No one had ever leveled such egregious accusations against him. She said he was no gentleman—arguing it takes more than wealth and status to deserve the word and a true gentleman would never utter such unkind words about those who are less fortunate than he is or look down upon others merely due to the circumstances of their birth.
What am I doing?
Indeed, a wealthy gentleman of seven and twenty, he had lived his adult life fending off the advances of young ladies whose interest in him he attributed primarily to his wealth. Not that he was successful. His carefully donned mask of indifference they interpreted as mysterious. His condescension and disdain they interpreted as commendable. On the other hand, did they? Maybe the prospect of being the next mistress of Pemberley was enough that they would suffer any manner of obstacles he erected before them.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, on the other hand, was quite unlike any woman he had ever known. She pierced his armor without even trying and, considering her attitude, apparently without even wanting to.
It was true that Darcy had spent the past weeks trying to deny it made a difference what Miss Elizabeth thought of him. Who was she in comparison with him? Even if he secretly admired her charms and her amazing eyes, she was too far below him in consequence for any serious consideration. The last thing he ever wished to be accused of was raising her expectations, he reminded himself.
Bingley has already given rise to talk of Elizabeth’s eldest sister, Miss Jane Bennet, being the future mistress of Netherfield.
The last thing in the world Darcy wanted to do was stoke the flames of speculation that he too was taken by one of the Bennet daughters. One did not simply dally with a gently bred woman. Any interest, any long looks, any show of kindness was pretty much regarded as a proposal of marriage in such a small town, especially coming from a single man with a large fortune.
Darcy drew a long breath of the warm night’s fresh air. Other than myself, whom am I fooling?
Shaking his head, he recalled his purposes for the evening. He had counted the hours to this evening, as all those who espied the alacrity with which he consulted his pocket watch would attest to. This was meant to be the evening he would lower his guard in her presence and encourage her to reciprocate in kind, the evening he would make amends for not dancing with her at the Meryton assembly when they first made each other’s acquaintance, as well as any other slights since then.
His mind wandered to when he had purposely sought her company earlier that evening. As she was conversing with her friend, Miss Lucas, Darcy contented himself with admiring her rather than joining the ladies. How her eyes sparkled and what great energy she exhibited when teasing the head of the local militia, Colonel Forster, to give a ball at Meryton. He’d been standing close enough to appreciate the sweet smell of Elizabeth’s perfume—the fragrance of rose petals, which he would associate with her alone forever more.
That was before Miss Bingley found him and dragged him away, ostensibly for the purposes of having someone by her side among a crowded room of strangers. What a difference there was between the two young women. Miss Bingley he’d learned to tolerate solely for the sake of his friendship with her brother, Charles. In truth, he often found her rather unpleasant despite her habit of hanging on to his every word. Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, had an uncanny propensity willfully to misunderstand his every word—or so it seemed.
Perhaps I should leave things as they are. Having never felt this way for any woman, he commenced wondering what becomes of an attraction denied. Do such feelings as these dissipate with time or merely recreate themselves as unrelenting anguish over what might have been?
Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The prospect of leaving things as they were with her did not sit well with him. Even if he were uncertain whether a meaningful future with her was a possibility, he was sure he wanted her good opinion. For reasons he had yet to comprehend fully, earning her good opinion was everything. Perhaps it had to do with that very thing that threatened to keep them apart and made a real future between them an impossibility: her loyalty and strong defense of her family.
Darcy’s own family situation left him wanting. His mother had died when he was little more than a child and too young to comprehend that it was not abandonment. Of course, she did not abandon him, but tell that to a boy whose world felt rendered upside down. Bereft of a mother’s love and not fully grasping the dispassion inherent in the care of a grieving father, Darcy did not have a strong and lasting impression of what it was like to be loved unconditionally. Owing to his wealth and standing, his views were fashioned by a general expectation of love and affections with strings attached.
Now, for the first time in his life, he had met a woman who wanted nothing from him. Yet, he was drawn to her. Somehow, he had to make things right. Tired of berating himself and not content to leave things as he had, he set off to make amends.
Part 2 ~ Not How I Feel
Darcy caught Elizabeth completely off guard when he asked if he might have the pleasure of dancing with her at some point during the evening. Her eyes opened wide. If I say no, then I will be obliged to forgo any other requests the rest of the evening, for once a lady denies a gentleman’s request to dance she has no choice but to decline all subsequent entreaties. To do otherwise surely would be fodder for gossip and ridicule. I do not wish to watch everyone else make merriment. I want my share of excitement. Oh, you selfish, selfish man! How dare you put me in this position?
Elizabeth uttered the only thing she could in such a situation as this. “Yes, you may.”
Darcy bowed, she curtsied, and he soon disappeared into the crowd gathered across the room.
Needing time to fret over what had just happened, Elizabeth headed out the double French doors to take in the night air.
What is he thinking in asking me to dance given the manner of our separation just half an hour ago? Does he mean to torment me? Did he expect me to say no, knowing that, if I did, he would have the satisfaction of watching me forego the pleasure of dancing with other gentlemen, gentlemen who are not so wealthy as he is—certainly not so handsome but who are far more kind and considerate?
Having been the one who was standing next to Elizabeth when Mr. Darcy approached them and requested the next set, Elizabeth’s intimate friend, Charlotte Lucas, found Elizabeth standing alone outside. She tried her best to console Elizabeth. “Take heart, dearest Eliza. For what it’s worth, you did the right thing in accepting Mr. Darcy’s petition.”
“As though I had a choice in the matter,” said Elizabeth. “No doubt the sole reason he asked is because he was hoping I would say no; thus ruining what’s left of my evening.” Had it not been for her friend’s opening the instrument in the first place and prevailing upon Elizabeth to perform, perhaps her sister Mary might not have succeeded her and commenced a long concerto. Subsequently, at the request of her younger sisters, Mary had been persuaded to play something conducive to dancing. Some of Charlotte’s family and two or three officers eagerly joined them in dancing. Elizabeth had seen in Mr. Darcy, who stood near them, the silent indignation at such a mode of passing the evening and yet he had prevailed upon her to stand opposite him.
A kind, unpretentious woman, Charlotte shook her head. “I don’t suppose that was his reason at all.”
