“Yes, but—”
Her father was shaking his head rather emphatically. “He could be denying a previous betrothal merely to encourage you to believe his intentions are honorable.” His index finger stabbed into his desk for emphasis.
Anger surged through her. “He would not do that!”
Irritation colored her father’s tone as well. “You do not know what men are capable of. See how we were deceived by Wickham!”
“Mr. Darcy is not like Wickham!” She insisted.
“If he cares for you, why has he not requested my permission to court you or asked for your hand? And do not tell me there is nothing between you! Your mother may be blind to it, but I am not!” Her father stood abruptly and spread his hands on the desk. “Mr. Darcy may have some fondness for you, but he has not acted on it. Either he thinks you are beneath him or his intentions are less than admirable.”
“He is not—”
“Lizzy,” her father sounded suddenly tired. He sank back into his chair and rubbed his face. “I have heard of high-born gentlemen who impose themselves on women, compromising their reputations so thoroughly that they have no choice than to become the man’s mistress.”
Indignation coursed through her once again. “Mr. Darcy would never do such a thing!” Her father’s face held infuriating compassion at her ignorance. “I know his intentions toward me are honorable!”
“Then why has he not declared himself? He has had ample opportunity by this time.” Her father looked at her sadly. “I have learned my lesson. We cannot trust that any man’s intentions are proper. I failed to protect Lydia, but I will not make such an error again.”
“He had ample opportunity to compromise my reputation in France and did not take it!” Elizabeth cried, feeling the injustice of the situation.
Her father rubbed his hands together, trying to calm himself. Then he turned and poured himself a brandy before responding. “I am pleased you have such faith in him. I do not know the whole truth of what occurred in France, but I suspect you
are concealing something from me.” Elizabeth said nothing in response. “I hope you know you can always turn to me if you find yourself in distress of any sort.”
The pain and fear in her father’s voice made her wish to confide the truth right then. But she knew she could not do so without talking to Darcy, so she merely said, “I am not at all distressed for myself. I am perfectly content with my situation.” Far from reassured, her father merely shook his head sadly at this declaration. “I am only concerned about Lydia.”
Her father sighed and stared at his brandy glass. “As are we all,” he said. “The poor, foolish girl.”
Elizabeth made a move to depart, but her father stayed her with a hand. “You and Mr. Darcy have concealed the impropriety of your travels in France admirably, but I hope I hardly need to warn you that you must be properly chaperoned here in Hertfordshire.”
She murmured, “Of course,” and walked toward the door, thinking that the definition of “proper” chaperonage was flexible given the circumstances.
Before she exited, her father called to her, “And, Lizzy, I had not realized how ill you were in France. I cannot tell you how grateful I am that you are still with us.” Tears sparkling in his eyes. “And I intend to thank Mr. Darcy for taking such excellent care of you the next time I lay eyes on him.”
Elizabeth smiled and nodded to her father, then left the room.
As Elizabeth set out for her walk the following morning she thought guiltily that she was violating the spirit, if not the letter, of her promise to her father. She would be with Darcy without a chaperone, but, because they were married, they would not truly require one.
The summer days had been warm lately, but the early mornings were still cool. Mist was rising from the fields as the first rays of early morning light shone on the plants. Elizabeth walked more briskly that usual, excited at the prospect of being with Darcy alone.
As she proceeded along the path to Oakham Mount, she soon noticed a tall figure on horseback. When he reached her, Darcy slid quickly off his horse and embraced her so tightly she could hardly breathe. Scarcely less eager, Elizabeth tilted her head up to receive a kiss, responding with ardent desire as he pressed his lips on hers. She never wanted the kiss to end, but at the same time, it only stoked additional desires that mere kisses could not satisfy. Darcy’s hands traced her curves, enflaming desire wherever they touched – every inch of her body ached for him.
When at last they separated, panting, Elizabeth said, “Mr. Darcy, I believe you have compromised me.”
He gave a short laugh. “This location is rather exposed.” His fingers played with one of the curls left visible by her bonnet. “Did you have another place in mind, my love?”
Her smile was impish. “Let me show you one of my favorite hiding places as a child.” He tied his horse to a tree and she took his hand, leading him along the bank of the stream. He followed her into a secluded copse, a grassy area rendered private by the surrounding fir trees. The sun shone brightly through the ring of gray-green branches, creating an intricate pattern of light and shadow.
“This is delightful!” Darcy gasped, turning in a circle to fully appreciate the beauty. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”
“As a child I only viewed this as a perfect spot to hide from my sisters. I never realized what a wonderful lover’s bower it would make!” Darcy laughed at her playful tone.
As she returned his laugh, her eyes lit with pleasure and Darcy thought again how incredibly fortunate he was that she had agreed to be his. Once she was surrounded by family and friends at Longbourn, he had worried she would regret her impetuous decision to marry him. After all she must be thinking that marriage to him would inevitably lead her to leave Hertfordshire and everyone she loved, but she gave no indications of remorse now. Apparently she wished to be with him as much as he wished to be with her; his heart swelled with love all over again.
He kissed her again, pouring all of his love and passion in that one kiss. As he did so, his hands, moving of their own accord, starting to undo the buttons at the back of her dress. Once finished, he realized that Elizabeth’s hands had unbuttoned his waistcoat and were pushing it over his shoulders and down his arms. How had she learned so quickly how to undress me? He wondered absently. Not that I am not grateful. Her eagerness excited him even more.
Darcy turned back to Elizabeth and quickly divested her hair of its hairpins, causing her glorious curls to cascade around her shoulders. “I wish you could wear your hair down every day of your life,” he murmured. “But I want to be the only man to see it.”