What Would Mr. Darcy Do? (pemberley variations) Read online

  “There is nothing you need to say, Fitzwilliam,” she said softly, allowing herself the pleasure of touching his cheek lightly.

  His eyes ignited with a familiar look, and she could see the battle he was fighting with himself. “There is one more thing…” he began, then faltered as Elizabeth, smiling provocatively, slid her arms around his neck, “…which we can discuss later,” he concluded in a somewhat strangled voice as he responded in the only possible way.

  Had Elizabeth thought his passion would be in some way more controlled with his better understanding of her regard for him, she would have had to revise that opinion quite rapidly as his fiery kisses burned her lips with unrestrained ardor. She found that what had begun with an affectionate and intimate gesture on her part rapidly turned into a conflagration in which her passion rose to meet his. She felt lost in a flood of sensation as he explored her mouth, and, as he moved his attention to her face and her neck, she found herself arching her head back to allow further liberties.

  Darcy, having unwisely allowed himself to imagine his nights with Elizabeth, found those thoughts had wrought havoc with his self-restraint. He felt all resolve melt as Elizabeth gave into the temptation to allow her fingers to roam through his hair and over the exposed skin of his neck. His lips fully occupied with investigating the hollows over her collarbone, he found his hands seeking to explore the gentle curves of her spine.

  Elizabeth’s involuntary gasp of pleasure brought her attention back to herself, and, with a Herculean effort of will, she sought to extricate herself from his embrace, and laid her fingers lightly over his lips. Meeting his eyes, dark with passion, almost destroyed her resolve, but she somehow managed to maintain her distance.

  Darcy forced his breathing to slow. “I hope you are not planning to insist on a long engagement,” he said.

  “That would appear to be unwise,” Elizabeth allowed, sounding a good deal calmer than she felt.

  “Then perhaps we should take appropriate steps,” he said softly. He removed a small box from his pocket, and, taking her hand, opened it to show her a ring of sapphire and diamond. “I was carrying this when I called on you at the inn in Lambton,” he said as he slid it slowly onto her finger. “My father gave this to my mother when he asked her to be his wife.”

  The sight of the ring on her hand brought her a new sense of the truth of their engagement, and she found herself thinking of all the changes it would bring to her life. Darcy’s thoughts ran along a similar path; the physical reality of her acceptance of his ring made it true that she would be his, that he had at long last won her love. He lifted her hand to his lips, then held it gently to his cheek in a gesture of trust which touched Elizabeth deeply.

  “Your mother must have been a very fortunate woman,” said Elizabeth shakily.

  “They were both fortunate,” he responded softly. “My parents had an exemplary marriage, full of affection and respect. I have always told myself I would settle for nothing less.”

  Elizabeth’s breath caught in her throat. “I hope I will live up to your faith in me.”

  With a slight smile, he said, “I have no doubts of your success. We do, however, have a few matters to resolve regarding our wedding, and I believe I have a somewhat overdue meeting with your father as well. Perhaps there is a place where we could sit while we talk?”

  Elizabeth gave him an arch look. “Always assuming that we could behave ourselves long enough to resolve anything?” With a smile, she led him to a shaded bench across the garden.

  “I do not recall making any promises about behaving myself,” Darcy said as they sat. Suiting his actions to his words, he took her hands in his and brushed his lips lightly across hers. “I believe I can manage to hold a conversation between kisses, and if it should prove distracting to you, so much the better for making plans to my liking.”

  “And may I ask what those plans would be?” asked Elizabeth.

  A playful look entered his eyes. “I thought the idea of getting married this afternoon had a good deal of merit,” he said with an innocent air.

  Elizabeth laughed. “I fear that is hardly possible, sir. There is no time to obtain a license, and my mother would never forgive me if I married in an everyday dress. I am afraid you will need to wait at least a few days!” she teased in return.

  “I cannot help with the matter of your dress, except to say I would find you beautiful in sackcloth. As to the other matter…” He withdrew a paper from his pocket and held it up teasingly between two fingers.

  Elizabeth looked at him suspiciously as she took the document. Unfolding it, she was taken aback to find it to be a special license, issued in their names the previous day at Doctors’ Commons. “You cannot be seriously suggesting…” she said with some disbelief.

  “I believe I could force myself to wait as long as a week, given proper incentives.”

  “But that is when Jane and Bingley are to be wed!”

  “We could have a double ceremony.”

  “How could we be ready in a week?”

  “You are being far too argumentative,” he replied with a mocking threat in his voice, and proceeded to run his finger seductively beneath her neck. “I see I shall have to distract you after all.” He proceeded to trail a line of light kisses from her ear to the base of her neck. Elizabeth bit her lip in an attempt to deny him the satisfaction of seeing her response. “Now, about that double ceremony…”

  “You cannot be serious!”

  He traced her cheek with his finger. “More so than you think, my loveliest Elizabeth, but not without reason. To explain, however, I will need to ask you to keep a secret from the future Mrs. Bingley.”

  “As long as I do not consider it to be doing her a disservice, you may rely on me.”

  “I rely on you constantly, my sweetest. But to the subject at hand, last week I received one of Bingley’s illegible letters telling me it was his intention to surprise your sister with a honeymoon on the continent—more specifically, spending the winter in Italy.”

  Elizabeth’s eyes lit up. “Oh, Jane will love that! She has always wanted to travel.”

  “Knowing how close you and she are, I knew you would want her to attend our wedding. Since we will not be waiting six months to marry”—he gave her a pointed look to indicate the nonnegotiability of his statement—“this leaves the choice between a hurried wedding attended by Jane now, or a more leisurely one without her later. Hence my trip to London, where I consulted with Bingley regarding a possible delay to their departure plans, and my early arrival here, so as to be able to offer you the choice in the matter. The double ceremony was Bingley’s suggestion. Alternatively, Bingley feels they could delay their departure up to a week after their wedding to give us more time.

  “Next week?” Elizabeth said faintly. It had never occurred to her that Jane might not be at her wedding, and she felt grateful to Darcy for his consideration.

  “You are repeating yourself, my dearest,” Darcy said, allowing his lips to explore her hair with complete disregard for his own ability to concentrate.

  “You were very confident of my acceptance, it seems,” she said.

  “It would be more accurate to say I was hopeful, and I confess to enough impatience that the idea of having to marry sooner rather than later has a certain appeal to me.” He paused to steal a quick kiss. “I understand that you may have other priorities, however; it is more of a change for you than for me.”

  “I don’t know…” Feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the change he was proposing, she let her head rest against his shoulder.

  Darcy’s attention seemed distracted for a moment. “Have you told your mother about us yet?” he asked.

  “No, she has no idea, though I have discussed it with my father.”

  “I fear that she may have just found out,” he said.

  Elizabeth turned quickly to see Mrs. Bennet retreating rapidly toward the house in the company of Mrs. Philips, who was clearly offering consolation to her distressed fr
iend. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “I had best go to her, then,” she said with some trepidation, knowing the scene to follow had the potential to become quite unpleasant and undignified. “Perhaps you could return to speak with my father this evening.”

  “I think there is no time like the present, and I certainly do not wish to leave you to face the inquisition on your own.”

  Reluctantly, she said, “To tell the truth, this is likely to be embarrassing at best, and likely much worse, and I would prefer not to subject myself to the mortification of having you watch it.”

  He touched her cheek. “Elizabeth, I can tolerate your mother. Please have faith in me.”

  This being an approach Elizabeth would have been hard put to reject, she agreed to allow him to accompany her. He paused only to kiss her lightly. “Remember that I love you,” he murmured in her ear.

  She turned and looked steadily at him. “I depend upon it,” she replied.

  “As I depend on you, my sweetest, loveliest Elizabeth.”

  Chapter 8

  “Oh, Mr. Bennet, you are wanted immediately; we are all in an uproar! You have no idea what has happened,” cried Mrs. Bennet. “You must come and make Mr. Darcy marry Lizzy!

  “Mr. Darcy! Madam, I doubt I could make Mr. Darcy give me the time of day, if he were not so inclined, so I would hesitate to believe that I could make him marry anyone, least of all Lizzy, for whom you have always told me he has had the greatest indifference!”

  “Nonsense, how can you talk so! You take delight in vexing me! They are just now in the garden together, and, oh, Mr. Bennet, what shall we ever do?”

  “You may tell him from me, madam, that he has my full permission to be in the garden whenever he chooses, and that should put an end to the matter!”

  Unable to contain herself, Mrs. Bennet cried in vexation. “You have no compassion for my poor nerves! And what shall become of poor Lizzy?”

  The subjects of the conversation chose this moment to make their appearance, having overheard the previous remarks. Darcy, with his most correct social manner covering what to Elizabeth was obviously repressed laughter, bowed most correctly to his hostess. “Mrs. Bennet, a pleasure to see you again. And do I recollect that this is your sister? It has been far too long, madam.” Without allowing time for anyone else to speak, he turned to Mr. Bennet. “Mr. Bennet, would it be possible for me to speak with you privately regarding a matter of some importance?”

  Mr. Bennet looked him up and down. “Well, Mr. Darcy, I cannot imagine what you would have to say to me that would be of any import, but you are welcome to join me in the library, where it is certainly much quieter. I understand you have already taken a tour of the gardens.”

  Darcy cast Elizabeth a look of amused apprehension as he disappeared with her father. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face her mother.

  “Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet wailed. “How could you do this to us! Have you no regard for my nerves? You will disgrace us all!”

  Lizzy pressed her lips together to hide a smile. “I am sorry to hear that. I certainly hope that any disgrace of mine will not dissuade Mr. Darcy, since we have only just become engaged. He is asking my father for my hand as we speak.”

  The effect of this communication was quite extraordinary, for on hearing it, Mrs. Bennet found herself quite unable to utter a syllable. She managed to recover herself under the excited ministrations of Mrs. Philips, and expressed herself in such a tumult of joy as to make Elizabeth exceedingly grateful for Darcy’s absence. She could not give her consent, or speak her approbation in terms warm enough to satisfy her feelings.

  “Good gracious! Lord bless me! Only think! Mr. Darcy! Who would have thought it! And is it really true? Oh, my dear Lizzy! Pray apologize for my having disliked him so much before. I hope he will overlook it. Dear, dear Lizzy. A house in town! Everything that is charming! Three daughters married! Ten thousand a year! Oh, Lord! What will become of me, I shall go distracted.”

  * * *

  “Well, Mr. Darcy, what can I do for you today?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  “Sir, I would like to ask for the honor of your daughter’s hand in marriage,” Darcy said formally.

  “Ah, yes, Lizzy. A bit overdue in approaching me, aren’t you?”

  “Your daughter can be difficult to convince, sir.”

  “By you? Not that I would have noticed, Mr. Darcy. But no matter—the question is why are you asking my consent?”

  Darcy paused, puzzled. He had thought his request perfectly clear. “I would like your consent to marry your daughter.”

  “Yes, yes, you want to marry Lizzy; that shows fine taste on your part, if a certain degree of disregard for your own peace of mind. But I fail to see where I come into this.”

  “Sir, I do not have the honor of following your meaning.”

  “Well, then, Lizzy has told me she plans to marry you with or without my consent, so it seems that there is no need to ask it, is there?”

  “Your daughter says a good many things, Mr. Bennet, but she does not speak for me; I would like to have your consent.”

  “You would like that, would you? And will it stop you if I fail to give my consent?” Mr. Bennet asked affably.

  Darcy steepled his fingers and was silent for a minute. “No, sir, it will not.”

  “Then it certainly seems to be a waste of your time and energy to be debating the issue with a difficult old man!”

  Darcy was beginning to understand the source of Elizabeth’s playful sense of humor. “Possibly, sir, but I consider it good practice for dealing with your daughter.”

  “Point taken, young man. So, why should I give you permission to marry Lizzy? I believe we can skip over the discussion of your material prospects, and I am willing to take your tender regard for her as a given.” Mr. Bennet sat back, clearly relishing the discussion.

  “Among other things, it would improve your family harmony; I speak from experience when I say that Miss Elizabeth can be quite stubborn when she sets her mind to it, and she seems to be quite set on marrying me.”

  Mr. Bennet waved this away. “I am quite accustomed to dealing with familial disharmony.”

  “Perhaps then you should speak to your wife. She seems to feel that I have compromised your daughter, and as such, I obviously should marry her.”

  “Oh, ho, so that is how the land lies, is it? Is there something you ought to be telling me about?”

  Darcy leaned forward, and said with great deliberation, “Only this, sir, that I am prepared to sit here and argue this with you all day and all night if need be, until you give your consent simply to be rid of me.”

  The two stared at each other. Finally Mr. Bennet chuckled. “Very well, young man. I see you have enough mettle to handle my Lizzy. You have my consent.”

  “I thank you, sir, and I believe you will have no cause to regret your decision.”

  “Well, we shall see, I would imagine.”

  Darcy found himself not quite ready to quit the battlefield without having fired a shot of his own. “Sir, I do have one question.”

  “Yes, what is it?”

  “I understand from my friend Bingley that he found asking your permission to marry Miss Bennet a simple and straightforward procedure. This seems rather different from my experience. Perhaps you might explain this to me.”

  “You are not reticent, sir! Very well, if you wish to know, when Jane brings home a puppy dog, I pat its head. When Lizzy brings me a full-grown wolf, I handle it differently.”

  Darcy inclined his head. “I see we understand one other, sir.”

  “Yes, yes, and I am sure you would rather be spending your time with Lizzy than with me, so be off with you!”

  “Sir.” Darcy stood and gave him a very correct bow before leaving.

  He found Elizabeth awaiting him anxiously in the drawing room. “Well?” she asked.

  Darcy sank gratefully into a chair. “There are thousands of fathers in England who would be delighted to have me ask fo
r their daughter’s hand.”

  Elizabeth bit her lip. “He was difficult, then? Did he give his consent?”

  “Yes, he was difficult, and yes, he consented, though only after I had threatened him with family discord, loss of reputation, and holding him hostage. Apart from that, it went quite well.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “You should probably feel complimented; he is truly only difficult when he has a positive view of a matter.”

  “Did you really tell him you would marry me with or without his consent?”

  Elizabeth blushed. “Does that shock you, sir?”

  He gave her a sidelong look. “Terribly. I believe I shall require a great number of kisses to recover from the experience.”

  “Fortunately, I believe that you know where to find them, sir,” she said.

  “Your perception astonishes me, Miss Bennet,” he said, rising to move behind her chair. As she looked up at him, he bent to give her a series of slow, gentle kisses.

  “Is that better, Mr. Darcy?” she asked archly as he released her mouth.

  “Not yet.” He proceeded to feather a series of kisses behind her ear, traveling slowly to the nape of her neck which had so enticed him when he first saw her in the vineyard earlier. She shivered as he moved his lips ever so slowly along the length of the back of her neck and the soft skin exposed by the neckline of her dress, and felt a need she could not understand growing within her. Darcy could clearly sense her growing tension, and when he finally allowed his mouth to approach hers again, they met with a deep hunger that could not be denied.

  The sound of laughing voices raised in lively conversation began to intrude, and Darcy jumped back, straightening, just before the room was invaded by Georgiana, Kitty, and Mary. Georgiana stopped short when she saw her brother, then rushed to embrace him. “Fitzwilliam! I did not expect to see you so soon! What a lovely surprise!”

  “You are looking very well. Your visit seems to have agreed with you, my dear,” he replied.