Silence descended, Mr. Darcy staring at her in that strange, undecipherable manner of his. Lizzy, to her utter horror, found her eyes drifting from his face to the open collar of his shirt. She flushed, averting her gaze quickly, mind suddenly revisiting the touch of his bare, warm, and strong hand when he assisted her into the carriage when leaving Netherfield. Anger rose in her chest then, as if it was somehow his fault for the slant of her musings, and she flared. “I imagine you and your sister read von Eschenbach in the original German?” She cringed inwardly at the inanity of her remark as well as the tone but glared challengingly and lifted her chin nonetheless.
Mr. Darcy frowned slightly. “Yes, of course, although Miss Darcy's German is not as fluent as her French. She is improving though.” He trailed off lamely.
Concluding that he must be bored silly and annoyed with the conversation, especially with her, Lizzy declared briskly, “Well, Mr. Darcy, if you will excuse me, I need to be returning to Longbourn and I have detained your horse from his race quite long enough.”
He seemed to hesitate, struggling internally with something, and then bowed his head. “Of course, Miss Elizabeth. Forgive me for keeping you. I pray your day continues to be a pleasant one.” Despite his farewell, he yet hesitated for a moment further then abruptly clenched his jaw and with a curt bow spun Parsifal and cantered off, spurring into a hard run before getting thirty feet away.
Almost a year later, during their engagement, they had met here on two occasions, once by accident and once planned. The accidental encounter had occurred only five days after their betrothal and in roughly the same manner as the first. Lizzy had gone to Willow Bench to read. Darcy was out riding and inadvertently passed by that way, the meadow being flat and lengthy thus perfect to race across. Lizzy had heard the hoof beats and jumped up in hopeful anticipation, heart pounding at the sight of her love whizzing by. She rapidly climbed to the top rung of the fence, waving frantically and quite unladylike, thrilled when he finally saw her.
How altered the confrontation was this time around! Darcy was beaming and relaxed. Lizzy unabashedly admired his windblown attractiveness, although to her chagrin he wore a cravat. He casually directed Parsifal alongside her and without preamble leaned in for a tender kiss. “Miss Elizabeth, what a delightful surprise. Come here often, do you?” Gloved fingertips seared the flesh of her cheek as he caressed tenderly.
They teased and laughed, shared several controlled kisses, as Lizzy told him the history of Willow Bench. The problem of being on opposite sides of the fence was solved by the simple expedience of him galloping full tilt and cleanly jumping over it while Lizzy nearly fainted. She scolded him vehemently and he professed deep contrition, belied by the twinkle in his eyes. Of course, Lizzy had a difficult time maintaining her irritation considering how breathlessly gorgeous he was and the raw excitement rushing through her at the sight of his blatant masculinity.
The planned visit to Willow Bench had transpired on the afternoon before their wedding day. They had walked from Longbourn, initially with Jane and Charles trailing, belatedly discovering their steps haphazardly heading this direction at roughly the same moment they realized that Jane and Charles were nowhere to be found. They shared a knowing glance, nodded and grinned, and by mutual unspoken consent broke into a chase. Lizzy reached the trees first, although it was clear the long-legged Darcy had forfeited. Instead, he grabbed her about the waist, twirling her about while laughing joyously, and then planted a firm kiss to her lips. As had been increasingly ensuing as the day of their nuptials approached, the playful chaste kiss rapidly evolved into a serious breach of all propriety. Within seconds they were fused along every plane of their bodies, hands grasping and seeking, and mouths hungrily tasting. Before long, they were both panting—and not from the sprint.
With tremendous effort they pulled away, withdrawing to opposite trees as they stared at each other with passion imbued eyes. Darcy was totally befuddled, as Lizzy would learn was a typical reaction when his ardor was high. Lizzy was in a similar state, earnestly searching her mind for something to interject into the silence, finally emitting the first words that popped into her head. “I love kissing you!”
Instantly red-cheeked, she stammered, “I suppose you figured that out.” He merely smiled broadly and nodded, rigid hands flattened harshly against his thighs and breathing labored. In the shaded alcove, his eyes were glittering and nearly black. Lizzy noted it all and more, flushed further, and looked away.
Spying the fence and field beyond, she asked, “What were you thinking when you encountered me here that day? The day last year before we were engaged?”
She turned back to him, noting the faraway expression in his eyes even as he stared into her face, as he replied, “I thought my dreams had returned to torment me.” He spoke softly, voice husky, drawn inward in remembrance.
“What do you mean?”
Darcy jolted, met her eyes, and reddened. “Nothing, Elizabeth. I was just surprised, that is all.” He grew stubborn and refused to talk about it.
With all that had transpired since, Lizzy had totally forgotten both instances. Now, she sat on the makeshift bench and wondered afresh what had been racing through his mind. Knowing him as intimately as she now did, she could solve some of the riddles. Obviously he had not disliked her as she assumed but, in fact, was smitten. His confusion, hesitation, and lack of wit she understood now were due to his shyness coupled with the desire to converse with her. What she did not comprehend was the odd emotion on his face when he first saw her and the even odder comment about dreams.
She shook her head, vowed to ask him later, finished her apple, and opened her book.
Back at Netherfield, Darcy and Bingley returned from their hunt, several birds the richer. Georgiana informed her brother as to Elizabeth's whereabouts, and he left with a huge grin.
“Elizabeth… Elizabeth… Mrs. Darcy.”
Lizzy slowly opened her eyes, the hazy figure bent over her gradually focusing. “William?”
He smiled. “Miss Elizabeth, what a delightful surprise. Come here often, do you?”
She laughed, accepting his hand to assist her into a sitting position from the slumped pose she currently occupied in her slumber. He brushed off her skirts as he knelt in front of her. She smiled and caressed his face. “Yes, I come here often. However, the best occasions are when handsome gentlemen intrude.”
“And how often does that occur, pray tell?”
“A dozen or so, over the course of time, naturally.”
“A dozen, you say? That many? Any particular events or gentlemen of special import?”
Her fingers moved to the knots of his cravat as she replied, “Only one gentleman that is burned in my memory. He intruded upon me thrice. On the first occasion I noted he had the loveliest neck and my thoughts were quite wicked.”
Darcy was genuinely surprised. “Truly? I did not suspect. I have been under the mistaken impression that you hated me then.”
“No. At that time I simply thought you annoying and pompous. Also, I had concluded that you disliked me.”
“Foolish girl,” he said as he ran his fingers over her lips.
“Yes, to be sure. Of course, mistaken impressions aside, your neck is quite delectable and I was not so completely foolish as to not notice!” She leaned in to his now bared neck for a smattering of delightful kisses. He sighed happily, a hand encompassing each slender ankle. Murmuring against his skin, “Why were you racing so crazily that day, William, and looking at me so strangely?”