The Road to Pemberley Read online

  “I suppose my mother forgets that I, too, have a wedding to plan,” Elizabeth said softly beside him. They sat together in a Longbourn drawing room. As was typical, after the evening meal, Mr. Bennet had retreated to his study to read. Kitty examined the latest fashion plates, and Mary practiced her music. Mrs. Bennet had demanded that Jane Bennet and Bingley join her in the sitting room to finalize plans for their wedding breakfast. So although others remained in the room, he and Elizabeth might as well have been alone.

  Darcy was not sure whether she had meant for him to overhear her muttering. With a deep sigh, Elizabeth turned to him. “It is abhorrent of me to complain after all your ministrations on my sister’s behalf. Forgive me, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy watched carefully, expecting Elizabeth to turn her moment of envy into another disparagement of her own failings, but she did no such thing. Evidently, this was a private moment: Elizabeth would show him a face that spoke the truth: Her mother’s preference bruised his future wife’s feelings. “I would forgive you anything, Elizabeth, if we could move beyond your calling me Mr. Darcy. Could you not call me by my given name?”

  She smiled broadly. “You wish for me to call you Fitzwilliam? I would enjoy that, sir.”

  “Then say it, Elizabeth,” he whispered hoarsely—his breathing suddenly constricted. Her eyes mesmerized him. The effect she had on him always took Darcy by surprise.

  Elizabeth leaned in closer, unaware of what she did to his composure. “Fitzwilliam, have I told you how happy I am to become your wife?” she murmured softly.

  Desire shot through Darcy. He had planned to kiss her this evening—had actually dreamed how it would be. His finger now traced a line from her temple to her chin. “You, my dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, do not know how long I have waited for you to say so.”

  Realizing their impropriety, Elizabeth blushed and leaned away from him. “May we speak of the wedding, sir?”

  Darcy sighed but he said evenly, “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. What do you wish to settle?”

  Elizabeth turned to him again. “We must agree on the ceremony’s date. Do you favor a long engagement?”

  Darcy straightened his shoulders, a posture he automatically adopted when completing business transactions; and, after all, among his society, marriage was a business. “I have waited to claim you for a year. I must admit that I am of the persuasion to finalize that claim as soon as possible, but I am not insensitive to the fact that this is a greater change for you. You must leave your home and family behind to start a new life with me. And although I wish to have you on Pemberley’s staircase when I return from my trips, I will understand if you insist on a longer waiting period.”

  Elizabeth blushed again. “You have thought of me with you at Pemberley, Fitzwilliam?” she asked sweetly.

  Darcy smiled. “You would be shocked, Elizabeth, at how often each day you enter my mind.”

  “How often?” she prompted.

  “Too often,” he growled quietly. “And in too many ways.” Then he was silent, willing away his arousal with a mental recitation of multiplication tables.

  “Oh!” she said and gasped. A long pause followed. Elizabeth glanced at Kitty, who was sketching a fashionable dress pattern. “Except for my father, I do not believe anyone here will realize I am gone,” she murmured. Her face was sad for a moment, and then she turned to Darcy with a smile. “A shorter engagement seems advisable,” she said with more confidence. “Mr. Bingley tells me that the North Road can be hazardous in winter. If we are to Derbyshire, it would be judicious to do so sooner rather than later.”

  “Mr. Bingley is correct. Derbyshire winters can be cruel. Plus, I would wish to celebrate the holidays at Pemberley. Georgiana and I have spent the past few Christmases in London. It is my dream to take you to my home and for you to share it with my sister. With your acceptance, I will instruct Mrs. Reynolds to open up the house for a winter ball. We have not held one at Pemberley for more than a decade. I can introduce my new wife—the estate’s new mistress—to my close family and friends.”

  Darcy saw Elizabeth’s look of apprehension, although she tried to hide it. “Then after the calling of the banns…how much longer after that?” she thought aloud.

  Darcy’s lips curved upward. “If it were my choice, the very next day after the third calling.”

  “My sister and Mr. Bingley have chosen the Monday after our third Sunday for their date. Do you wish for a double wedding, Mr. Darcy?”

  He frowned. “I had not considered a double wedding, nor had I foreseen our final banns would be called so close to Miss Bennet’s chosen day.” His voice took on an encouraging tone. “Despite my close association with Bingley, I would not be pleased to share the day of our joining with his and Miss Bennet’s. I would rather have you, not your sister, be the center of attention in your first hours as my wife.”

  Elizabeth expelled a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Fitzwilliam,” she whispered, “for understanding. I love Jane, but the day I become Mrs. Darcy is not a day I would want to share with another.”

  “Then a week after the final calling,” he declared. “That is a month from this Sunday. Is that sufficient time, Elizabeth?”

  “It is perfect, Fitzwilliam. The first week of November,” she said wistfully.

  “Your hat, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said teasingly as she clung to his arm.

  “Walk me out,” he said softly. He caught her hand and tugged Elizabeth along behind him. As soon as they were away from the lights of Longbourn’s windows, Darcy pulled her into his embrace.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she said and giggled. But she willingly leaned against him, resting her head on Darcy’s chest. He wrapped his greatcoat about her, both to keep her warm and to keep her in his embrace.

  He bent his head to speak into her ear. “Elizabeth,” he rasped, “it is my intention to kiss you.” He felt her stiffen. “If you do not want this, then you should return to the house immediately.” Darcy waited for her decision. When she remained in his arms, he felt exhilaration. Elizabeth would accept his kiss. He lifted her chin and lowered his mouth to hers.

  He kept one arm about her to steady her. With his other hand, Darcy cupped her chin, tilting her head gently upward. Elizabeth was an innocent and he took his time. He brushed his lips across hers before adding some pressure. He skimmed his tongue along her lip’s line, and she opened for him. Even then, Darcy did not deepen the kiss—just enjoyed the possibility. After a few moments, he reluctantly removed his lips from hers. “You are delicious,” he whispered.

  Elizabeth clung to his coat’s lapels, but she breathed the words, “So are you.”

  Darcy recognized her blush’s heat as he bent to kiss the tip of her nose. “We will take my curricle and see some of the countryside tomorrow,” he declared.

  “Orders, Mr. Darcy?” she taunted as she released her hold and prepared to move away.

  He slid his hands down Elizabeth’s arms, capturing her hands in his. Darcy chuckled. “My dear, our relationship is new. Of course, you will not object if I issue orders. It is only after we marry that you will voice your opposition.”

  Elizabeth stepped back. “Have you learned nothing of my nature, Mr. Darcy? There is a stubbornness about me that the will of others cannot quash. With every attempt to intimidate me, my courage always rises.”

  Darcy laughed warmly. “Now there is the Elizabeth Bennet who has plagued my every waking moment for a year.” He caught her hand again and led Elizabeth to where his horse stood waiting. “I will call for you at ten.”

  “Yes, Fitzwilliam,” she said a little too sweetly to be sincere. “I shall be anticipating it.”

  Darcy kissed her forehead. “Good evening, Elizabeth. I, too, will anticipate the day and hour.”

  She sat quietly beside him as Darcy deftly worked the reins to turn the curricle toward Oakham Mount. They had walked there the day after his second proposal, but Darcy had seen nothing but the woman he loved. Today, he had hoped to actually take in the
Hertfordshire countryside, spend time with Elizabeth, and maybe steal another kiss. “Have I offered you an offense, Elizabeth?” Ten minutes had passed since she had spoken.

  Elizabeth looked reluctantly at him as Darcy slowed the horse to an easy walk. “No, sir,” she said and gulped.

  He brought the animal to a halt and turned to her, before availing himself of her hand and removing her glove. Elizabeth looked away when he began to trace circles on her palm. “Elizabeth, I can count on these pretty fingers how many sentences you have spoken to me today. Can you not trust me with your thoughts?”

  “Trust?” she echoed softly as he raised her chin to see her eyes clearly.

  “Do you wish for me to return you to Longbourn?” Darcy watched as a flash of recognition crossed her face. “Is that it, sweetheart? You did not want to accompany me today?”

  Elizabeth flinched when he reached for her cheek. “Not exactly.”

  Darcy returned her hand to her lap. “Then tell me exactly. I will not be angry, no matter what it is.”

  “We … we have not been…been alone like this before,” she confessed.

  “Like what?” he encouraged. “Did you think I had plans to seduce you?” Frustration played through his tone.

  Elizabeth stifled a sob. “No.”

  “Sweetheart, you must tell me what disturbs you. I will not look at you, and you may look away if you wish, but I would hear what brings you sorrow.” He turned to face forward.

  Silence—broken only by a bird’s call and a rabbit’s race through the underbrush. Finally, she cleared her throat. “Yesterday evening…when I returned to the house…my mother had observed our embrace.” Elizabeth paused again, but Darcy forced himself to look straight head. He had given his word. “My mother chastised me for my behavior and wondered aloud if my so-called wantonness was the source of your proposal.”

  Darcy mumbled a curse. “I apologize if my action has brought you humiliation,” he said through gritted teeth. “Did you object to my kiss? Did it make you uncomfortable?”

  “No.” Her face flamed. “I enjoyed it.”

  How her family treated Elizabeth incensed him. “I will not live my life by the standards established by others.” Mrs. Bennet, Darcy reflected, had shut the barn door after the horse escaped. If she had exercised some control over her youngest, he would not have been forced to lay out several thousand pounds to entice George Wickham to marry Lydia Bennet. “We are engaged and an expression of our affection is natural.” Without looking at her, he picked up Elizabeth’s hand and brought it to his lips. “I will not demand more of you than what you are comfortable with. But we must spend time alone, Elizabeth. How else are we to really get to know each other? At Pemberley, we must be of one mind on how to keep the estate successful. And we have an obligation to an heir. Both of those require that we become familiar with each other prior to exchanging vows. I hope that we can consult with each other—act as partners in running our estate and raising our family.”

  Elizabeth sucked in a sharp breath. “You wish your wife to be your partner also?”

  “I do. I could have chosen a woman as Pemberley’s mistress long ago, but I needed something more than a pretty figure. I am not saying that your figure is lacking! But your mind is impressive, too, owing in part to your extensive reading. When I speak of railroads or crop rotation, your eyes do not glaze over, nor do you simply nod. You challenge, and you puzzle, and you demand.”

  “I see.” Elizabeth was silent a moment. “You appreciate me for who I am, Fitzwilliam.”

  “I do.”

  She looked at him broodingly. “I shall speak to my father. Perhaps he can persuade my mother to curb her tongue,” she announced.

  “And if he cannot?”

  “I shall ignore her remarks. In a month, you will be my husband.”

  They had left the carriage behind, making the last part of the summit’s climb on foot. “I love the view from here,” Elizabeth said, turning in circles, taking it all in. Darcy’s watched her with pleasure. “See.” She pointed off to the left. “Past that second tree line is the steepled roof of Netherfield.” Darcy’s eyes followed her arm’s line as he stepped behind her. “And that patchwork field is part of Sir William Lucas’s land.” Elizabeth shifted to stand closer when Darcy snaked his arms about her waist and kissed the nape of her neck. He heard the quick intake of her breath. “And ... and over there … to the right, one can see Longbourn’s entrance.”

  “All I see is your beauty,” Darcy whispered. “I did not see these sights when we visited this overlook most recently.” He kissed behind her ear. “I suspect we will need to be married many years before I will see Longbourn’s entrance from this point.”

  Elizabeth turned in his arms. “I never realized, Mr. Darcy, that you were capable of sweet courtship words,” she teased, sliding her arms about his waist.

  One eyebrow rose. “You think me capable of only mundane or scholarly conversation, Miss Bennet?”

  Elizabeth laid her cheek against his chest. “No.” She shook her head slightly. “No, Fitzwilliam. There was a time that I would have said so, but not now. Your letter’s genuine adieus and then our time at Pemberley showed me otherwise. I was foolish to have so misjudged you.” She sighed deeply and closed her eyes.

  Darcy grasped her to himself more tightly. “Elizabeth, you have no idea how right this feels.”

  “Yes, I do.” She moved closer as Darcy lowered his head for a kiss.

  “We should return to Longbourn, Elizabeth!” he called as she skittered ahead of him, turning down another pathway.

  She smiled joyously. “You must see this, Fitzwilliam. Please. Really, you must.”

  “No,” he asserted. “It is past the hour that we agreed to return. Mr. Bingley and I are to call on the vicar today.”

  Elizabeth walked backward along the trail, teasingly motioning for him to follow. “My family is accustomed to my being late, and Mr. Bingley will not complain about more time with Jane.”

  Darcy folded his arms across his chest and gave her his sternest look. “I insist, Elizabeth. Do not play games today.” The controlled cadences of his voice indicated his irritation.

  “Games?” Her voice lost its playfulness. “It is not a game, Fitzwilliam. When I wish to share something important with you, it is not a game. Not an hour ago, you declared that in our life together we would be partners. You asked to know more of me, but at your first chance to do so, you shun the opportunity.”

  “I have a responsibility to Bingley, and I gave my word to your father that we would return before the afternoon meal.”

  She shook her head, willing his words away. “I absolve you of fault for my tardiness. Return to Longbourn and your appointments. I shall find my own way.”

  “Elizabeth, be reasonable,” he pleaded. “I will not leave you alone. A gentleman would never do so.”

  She laughed but it was a bitter sound. “Have no worry, Mr. Darcy. As you so eloquently expressed at Rosings, my connections make me inferior. I am not a lady. You have recognized the degradation of your association with me. Of my family obstacles.” Tears stung her eyes. Elizabeth turned on her heel and strode away.

  “Be that way!” he shouted to her retreating form. Frustrated, he returned to the waiting carriage. “If she thinks that I will chase after her,” he growled under his breath, “she has another think coming.”

  Elizabeth rushed forward, desperate to put space between her and the most infuriating man that she had ever known. Thoughts of him—of his demanding tone—spurred her on. She had expected pangs of anguish, but only annoyance arrived. Ignoring her tears, she broke into a run.

  Darcy sat, impatiently waiting for her return. What if that trail is not a dead end? he asked himself. Then I am sitting here, making an even bigger fool of myself. Reluctantly, he stepped to the ground. Taking a deep breath to regain his composure, he started off at a leisurely pace along the trail Elizabeth had followed. He would not run after her. Elizabeth was q
uite capable of handling the uneven terrain and the encroaching foliage, which narrowed the path. But then the path became even narrower. Is this even passable? he wondered as he pushed a low-hanging branch aside.

  Then he saw her, standing perfectly still. Her back to him. Instantly, he regretted their argument. She had acted impetuously, but that was no reason that they should argue. “Elizabeth,” he said softly, stepping into the small clearing.

  She refused to acknowledge him. Her anger, obviously, remained.

  “I am sorry that we had words. I was insensitive to what you tried to tell me.” He edged forward. She remained eerily still. Darcy circled to her side. “Please, Elizabeth, can you not forgive me? We should be celebrating our happiness.”

  By now, he was in a position to see her profile. Dried tear tracks showed, but something else remained. Fear. Pure fear. Carefully, he examined her whole body. Every nerve was on alert. “What is it, sweetheart?” But her answer never came. Elizabeth did not even breathe. Then he saw it. Darcy swallowed his own fear. “Do not move!” he rasped.

  Part 2

  Her right foot rested at an awkward angle in a rabbit’s hole. That was a problem, but not the crisis that had sent his blood racing. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, “I will get you out of this.”

  She did not respond, but he saw hope flicker in her eyes.

  “Sweetheart, without moving your foot, I need for you to loosen your cloak’s hook. I cannot chance that your garment will catch one of the snakes against your leg.” She had stepped into a hibernating nest of adders. He could see three moving slowly about her half boot. Their backs’ brown zigzag patterns and their large heads clearly identified their species. “Can you do that for me?”