Page 19

“I did see your family, as a matter of fact, but as soon as I learned you had not arrived with them, I made my excuses and escaped the room.”

Elizabeth bit her lower lip. Thoughts of what he must think, knowing she was engaged to a man like Mr. Collins, could not help but intrude. She also remembered what Mr. Collins had said earlier about Mr. Darcy’s late wife.

“Sir, you know doubt encountered Mr. Collins. He told me about your late wife. I am so sorry for your loss.”

Mr. Darcy nodded. “I wanted to be the one who told you. I fear your learning about Anne’s death from anyone other than me might lead to misunderstanding.”

“Mr. Collins spoke of your late wife having died from complications during childbirth and your being by her side until the end. He said you were quite distraught, as one must well imagine. What is there to misunderstand?”

“It is true I was by her side until the very end. It is also true I was distraught. Anne was my cousin, and I loved her dearly. However, it is not true that she died during childbirth, for she was never with child. As I told you last night, our marriage was never consummated. I did not want you to think I had misled you.”

“Why would Mr. Collins spread such a falsehood?”

Darcy shrugged. “I do not know that I can blame him. People tend to believe what they wish to believe. Lady Catherine could never countenance that her only child was of a sickly constitution. It was easier for her to attribute Anne’s death to something that would not render her the subject of anyone’s pity. It was more palatable for Lady Catherine to embrace the lie and allow others to do so.”

“But—but, you said you loved her, did you not?” Elizabeth asked, feigning more interest in a large potted plant than was warranted. The thought of Mr. Darcy having loved another, even a deceased wife, was oddly disconcerting.

Mr. Darcy nodded again. “I did—perhaps, not in the way a man ought to love the woman with whom he chooses to spend his life, but love her, I did. As one would love a dear relation. Anne and I were cousins. We have always been close. Our family desired the union. For as long as I can remember, I was told that our marriage was the favorite wish of her mother as well as my own. When I learned how much Anne herself was depending on it, too, even as her life was slipping away, I did what I had to do. I married her.”

By then, Darcy was standing directly beside Elizabeth. So close that she reached out and placed her hand on his chin. “I am so sorry.”

He covered her hand with his. “You are very kind.” Then he threw a glance about his surroundings, taking in the scenery. “So, this is your own private sanctuary?”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth said, lowering her hand and looking about at the parade of plants and flowers her father had curated over the years. The lush greenery abounded and lent scarcely a view of the outside world, save bursts of sun shining from up above. She took such joy in maintaining what she deemed her late father’s legacy. This was yet another reason she wanted to retain her place as mistress of Longbourn. “Shall I give you a tour?”

Mr. Darcy laid his jacket on a nearby worktable and accepted Elizabeth’s outstretched hand. He listened with keen attention as she pointed out many of her favorite plants and shared knowledgeable insights along the way. After a while, Elizabeth stood on the tip of her toes to reach a hanging basket with flowers that needed immediate tending. Mr. Darcy stood behind her and placed his hand on the small of her back. Then, he reached out with his free hand, “Let me help you with that.”

His body brushed against hers, sending a frisson of desire straight to her core. Then, turning, she found herself in his arms. Their lips met, and their passions soared.

* * *

Mr. Darcy swept Elizabeth up in his arms and carried her to a place at the farthest end of the observatory—a sort of work area, he supposed. He sat in a chair and persuaded Elizabeth to sit astride his lap. He meant to please her in such a manner she would not soon forget—one that negated the need to shed their clothing. He kissed her passionately, coaxing her along—her softness pressed against his growing hardness, repeatedly until she moaned and cried out his name.

Parts of the lovers’ attire were becoming drenched from the intoxicating heat. At length, he whispered in her ear. “Are you planning to return to Netherfield Park later, perhaps to spend the night? I hope you are.”

Elizabeth sighed—a sigh of relief mixed with something else.

Thinking it was uncertainty that she was feeling, Mr. Darcy said, “What is the matter?”

“I do not know,” she began, “After observing Caroline’s behavior this morning, I’m not sure I am in the mood for a repeat performance of her antics.”

“Surely you are no stranger to her antics by now.”

“True. Suffice it to say, we have little tolerance for each other.”

“Then what has changed?”

“Seeing her possessiveness toward you is troubling, to say the least.” Elizabeth let her hand glide over the bare skin of Mr. Darcy’s chest. It slid across his ribs and along his sternum until it came to rest against his heart.

“I do not know how to describe it,” she said in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “I fear she will do something rash to garner your attention.”

Elizabeth’s fingers lingered on Mr. Darcy’s bare chest. His heartbeat was strong, steady, and comforting. “I can well imagine her spending the bulk of the evening chasing you around the room. After what just happened between us, I cannot say that I would blame her.”

“Pray do not let Caroline Bingley be your excuse. In fact, if you are in want of an excuse, let it be your desire to rescue me from the likes of such a woman that compels you to come and save me.”

Mr. Darcy swept his hand through Elizabeth’s long, dark hair. “Come to Netherfield tonight, and we shall finish what we’ve started here in your sanctuary.”

“I shall think about it.”