Page 13

Not that she wanted to be drawn into whatever theatrical performance was unfolding between Mr. Darcy and the other woman. Even so, being the curious creature she was, Elizabeth could not help but wonder.

Chapter 2

Mr. Darcy kept to his apartment, pacing back and forth. He could not believe the audacity of that woman—the way she behaved in front of Elizabeth, the way she behaved, period!

Caroline Bingley’s behavior was beyond the pale—trying to hinder his departure from the breakfast room in such an egregious manner. The last thing Darcy wanted was for Elizabeth to get the wrong impression of the incident, to think that Caroline was an object of his affection—past or present. He was certain Elizabeth would think the worst if she got the wrong idea. She would think he was unfeeling and callous in his treatment of young ladies.

He slumped into a chair and put his hands on his head. What if Elizabeth thinks I am a rake—a seducer of women?

As it was, his conscience already weighed on him, and he felt no gentleman at all for having slept with another man’s betrothed. But she had been in so much pain over her fate. To be trapped in such an arrangement, despite it being of one’s own choosing, was one thing. In fact, it was not an unusual occurrence for people in his sphere to have arranged marriages for purposes having nothing to do with love or affection.

To be young and sensuous and destined for a loveless marriage to a man who was impotent and incapable of fulfilling the promises of the union—its most important purpose of siring an heir—was an entirely different matter.

A question that loomed heaviest in his mind was whether that one night of passion would be enough for the passionate young woman, or would she come to his bed again?

The last thing he meant to do was put added pressure on Elizabeth. He would simply be there for her in any way she needed him. If she came to him, he would be there to welcome her with open arms. He would respect whatever boundaries she needed to ensure her own peace of mind if she did not.

Darcy sprang from his chair and crossed the floor. After Miss Bingley’s ruse, will Elizabeth even trust me enough to want to have anything to do with me? He wondered.

This has the makings of a disaster. A total disaster.

Darcy’s fist struck the polished dark cherry wooded post of his canopy bed. The pain caused by the blow crept up his arm. It eventually reached his heart, which was beating fiercely, making it difficult for him to achieve any composure.

Darcy suspected that he had to make things right. In truth, he did not even have the opportunity to gauge Elizabeth’s reaction before storming from the breakfast room. Perhaps Miss Bingley’s little performance had escaped Elizabeth’s notice altogether.

Surely, he could hope.

Darcy glanced in the direction of the mirror, and his heart skipped a beat when he saw Elizabeth’s reflection. She stood by the doorway, her eyes fixed on him, her countenance noticeably altered.

“Elizabeth! When did you get here?” Darcy asked, turning to face her. “I did not hear you come in.”

“No, I am sure you did not.”

Darcy could feel his face growing warm. He was not sure why, but he found her being there both comforting and alarming all at once. She looked lovely, radiant in her morning gown. Without thinking, he took her in his arms and hugged her tightly, almost too tightly.

* * *

Elizabeth hugged him back. Elizabeth felt the heat of his body and his grip tighten around her. She could not recall a time when she had felt more comforted. Elizabeth simply wanted to bask in the warmth of his embrace. But at the same time, her own fears were getting the better of her. She did not want to be angry with him. On the contrary, Elizabeth needed to know she could trust him. She did not want her memories of their night together to be tarnished by suspicion and doubt. By the same token, she needed to let him know that his behavior towards Miss Bingley was disturbing.

“Mr. Darcy,” she finally spoke, freeing herself from his tight embrace. Elizabeth stepped away from him. “I think you and I need to talk.”

“Does it concern what happened earlier in the breakfast room?”

“Sir, not that it is my place to ask.”

“Elizabeth, after last night, there is nothing the two of us cannot talk about.”

“Then, tell me about Caroline Bingley, specifically, what is she to you?”

“Nothing! She is nothing to me—other than my friend’s sister.”

Priding herself on her keenness, Elizabeth’s senses began to stir. Her pulse was racing, her breath short and labored. Her cheeks were flushed, and it was not due to anger.

“I am afraid your response does not adequately address my question, especially having witnessed what unfolded between you.”

“Then let me be specific. Despite Miss Bingley’s unabashed attention, I have never given her any sign that I feel anything other than friendship for her.”

Before Elizabeth could say more, Darcy took her in his arms again. “Have I adequately addressed your question?” he asked, cupping her chin with his hand, and looking into her eyes.