Christmas at Darcy House

“Not terribly angry, but still somewhat angry,” she replied. He nodded his understanding. “So how did you come to be outside my uncle’s house just as I was departing? I find that a happy coincidence.

“Er…” He licked his lips, glancing around the park before answering. “I…ah…was lingering outside…on the street…hoping you would leave the house.” He shrugged sheepishly. “Your uncle’s neighbors gave me some puzzled looks.”

He must have wanted to speak with her quite desperately. “For how long?”

Was he blushing? “Not so long. I arrived this morning.”

“At what time?”

He was suddenly, intensely interested in a duck paddling in the pond. “At about seven or so.”

“Seven?” It was now close to noon! And Mr. Darcy was a busy man.

He shrugged. “I did not want to miss an opportunity to talk with you.”

She could not prevent a smile. “It is customary if one wishes to speak with a person to knock on the door. It does offer a certain efficiency.”

“I did not know if you would receive me.” His face was stony.

There was that. Elizabeth might not have spoken with him before Miss Darcy’s visit, but now…

She took some time before replying. “After your sister’s visit, I realized that our acquaintance has been one long comedy of errors. I have not acquired a good understanding of your character or conduct, and I daresay you have not received a complete picture of mine.”

“No. I—” He spoke as if each word rubbed his throat raw. “Before…In the garden….I believed you…recognized my attentions for what they were, and you welcomed them.”

This admission must have been difficult to make. Elizabeth fought a most ridiculous and inappropriate impulse to hug him. How her reaction yesterday must have hurt him! She had stabbed him and twisted the knife without realizing it.

And the fault was hers. She had allowed her own prejudice toward the man to cloud her normally good insight into people. “Apparently, I am too obtuse for a subtle approach, Mr. Darcy. You would have done better to hit me over the head.”

He smiled. “I would not wish to injure you.”

She found herself smiling in return. “You could use a bouquet of flowers.”

His lips were pressed together, suppressing a laugh. “That would be quite messy and a waste of perfectly good flowers.”

“And I suppose it would be rather confusing without any kind of explanation. Very well, forget that idea. I shall remain a hopeless case.”

“Do not say that,” he murmured in a tone so strangled that Elizabeth glanced at him in alarm. He took a step toward her. “I alone created this catastrophe. I alone should suffer for it.”

She was shaking her head before he finished speaking. “You are not alone, and I am not blameless. I misjudged you badly.”

He lifted his head and stared into her eyes, his lips parted slightly. “I pray you, tell me I am not too late. That I can unwind the damage I have done to your estimation of me.”

This poignant plea struck a chord deep within Elizabeth’s chest. No woman could fail to be moved by such a request. However, her feelings for Mr. Darcy were hopelessly tangled by now. Freed of obligations to Mr. Wickham, Elizabeth could finally admit her attraction to Mr. Darcy, but he had mortified her in the garden the previous day. Would he always be so high-handed? Was it really possible that such a man could be violently in love with her? It seemed inconceivable. But he was behaving much as a suitor would, and there could be no possible motive for him to pretend an admiration for her that he did not feel.

Nor could she imagine another motive to kiss her the way he had. He did have a feud with Wickham, but surely he would not sacrifice his own marital happiness for its sake.

“You are not too late,” she assured him. He breathed out a sigh of relief. “But I am confused, Mr. Darcy. My aunt and uncle insist that I have no choice other than to marry you after your actions yesterday.” He had the grace to blush. “Do you believe differently?”

He looked out over the pond, his expression pensive. “At the time of the kiss, I believed you would welcome the opportunity to become my wife, and that would persuade you to overlook the…unusual circumstances of my proposal. I am hoping to persuade you to marry me, which wo

uld avert any scandal. But if not…Perhaps I could pay off the servants…” He did not seem happy at that prospect.

“I told my aunt I would consider a convent.”

A side of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I hope I can persuade you that life with me would be preferable.” He took a step closer to her. An errant breeze wafted his sandalwood scent toward her, a scent she had always enjoyed. “I hope I can persuade you that life with me could be very good indeed.” His voice had grown husky and deep, setting something humming inside Elizabeth.

His eyes, darkened with desire, locked on hers, mesmerizing her. She could not pull her gaze from his. At that moment she had no difficulty imagining how good life with him could be.