She acknowledged him with a restrained smile of her own, but seemed disinclined to make conversation, leading Darcy to believe she was disturbed by the events of the previous evening. He debated how to begin, and finally said, “I owe you an apology for my behavior yesterday.”
Elizabeth colored. “I would prefer not to speak of it, sir.” Indeed, she had spent much of the previous night chastising herself for her failure to stop his advances and worrying about possible complications. She still agreed with her initial assessment that Miss Bingley would likely not expose them for her own reasons, but it had occurred to her that Miss Bingley was capable of seeking revenge in other ways. She was concerned how Darcy might have reacted to her shameless behavior. Would it not reinforce his concerns about the inappropriate conduct of members of the Bennet family?
Darcy was at a loss. How was he to beg her forgiveness if she would not hear his apology? “I have no desire to cause you any distress, so I shall say only that I would far rather hear your chastisement than have this come between us.”
“I am in no position to chastise anyone,” she replied in a low voice.
He looked at her sharply, then stopped and took her by both hands. “Are you concerned that I might be upset with you?” he said with incredulity.
She forced herself to look him in the eye. “My behavior was far from irreproachable.”
With a wordless exclamation he put his arms around her and held her tightly. “My dearest, when you give a man exactly what he has been longing to receive for many months, the last thing that would occur to him is to reproach you for your behavior!”
His endearment and apparent assumption of an understanding between them was more than she could manage after a mostly sleepless night, and she found tears coming to her eyes. The harder she tried to suppress them, the more they threatened to overflow—just like my feelings about this man, she thought, and began to cry in earnest.
Darcy, who was quite enjoying holding Elizabeth in his arms, did not immediately realize she was in tears, and then experienced a moment of panic not dissimilar to what he had felt recently with Georgiana. He should somehow understand what was upsetting her, but had no idea what was the matter, having thought he just reassured her. Clearly it was his fault in some way, and his guilt for causing her distress was great. Unsure as to the best course of action, he tried to comfort her by whispering endearments in her ear and holding her close to him, which unbeknownst to him had the unfortunate effect of fueling the fire of her distress. If only she would share her feelings with him! “My sweetest, please tell me what is troubling you,” he pleaded.
Elizabeth was attempting desperately to think of nothing beyond that he was comforting her. She could never say what was disturbing her without hurting him deeply—how could she tell him how much against her better judgment her attraction to him was? Once she stopped crying, she would need to tell him to cease referring to her in the affectionate manner that he was using. Exhausted with both her constant inner struggle against her feelings for him and the more outward struggle not to accede to the liberties he tried to take, she wanted nothing more than to give up the battle and agree to be his simply to conclude the matter, but she knew full well how quickly she would come to rue such a cowardly decision. Finally she calmed herself enough to respond. “I am simply not ready for this.”
Darcy thought carefully before replying. He could not afford a misunderstanding now. “If I take your meaning correctly, this is happening too quickly for you. Is that it?”
She nodded, her face still buried in his chest.
He kissed her hair, savoring the softness and the sweet scent of roses in it. “We can go more slowly, then; we have all the time in the world before us. I will not rush you.”
She could not help laughing through her tears at his words. “Mr. Darcy, I do not mean to suggest that you are not a man of your word, but I strongly advise that you refrain from promising the impossible. I am afraid that I do not believe you constitutionally capable of not rushing me.”
Her characterization forced a smile from him. “There is perhaps some truth to that. Perhaps I should promise instead to do my best not to rush you, and to listen when you tell me otherwise.”
“That is more credible, sir.” As she calmed herself, she allowed herself to enjoy the feeling of resting her head against him and the comfort of his arms around her.
This lasted only a brief time, though, as Darcy, while far from wishing to give up his current desirable position, was cognizant that he had just agreed to slow down his demands, and forced himself to release her. He consoled himself with the thought that she had, by asking him not to rush her, implicitly acknowledged that she had accepted that they were headed toward further intimacy.
“I appreciate your understanding, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said softly as they began walking again. He looked at her, and their eyes caught in a long gaze.
“I do not ever wish to distress you in any way,” he responded. After several minutes, he added, “There is one matter in which I will need your assistance, Miss Bennet.”
“And what is that, sir?”
“I do not wish to offend you, but in order to keep my word, I stand in need of your advice as to what constitutes rushing you, and what does not.”
Elizabeth blushed scarlet. It was a reasonable question, but she could think of no modest way to answer it, nor, even could she answer, could she have produced a consistent response. On some occasions, one of his intent gazes felt like more than she could bear, but at other times, her tolerance was quite different.
Darcy had to admit that she looked exceedingly appealing when she blushed. Recognizing the impossible position in which he had put her, he sought to obtain the needed information without forcing her to state directly which liberties she would accept. Thoughtfully, he took her hand in his as they continued to walk. “I believe that this is not rushing you; am I correct in that assessment?” She nodded. “Nor this?” He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it, then held it close to his chest, and she nodded again. “How about this?” he asked, placing a series of light kisses in the palm of her hand. She dropped her eyes, but still nodded infinitesimally. “Your pardon, Miss Bennet; I am afraid my question was not clear. Do you mean to say yes, that is rushing you, or yes, that is acceptable?”
“No, that is not too much,” she said quietly, though not without doubts about the accuracy of her answer, given the strength of her reaction.
Tread lightly, now! he cautioned himself. Stopping, he stepped closer to her and allowed his lips to caress her hair. “Is that too much?” She shook her head, eyes still downcast. Taking a deep breath and reminding himself of the necessity of self-control, Darcy tipped up her chin with one finger and permitted his lips to touch hers for the briefest moment.
She closed her eyes at the moment he kissed her, feeling the impossible sensations of pleasure lance through her, and then reopened them to look up at him. “Sometimes,” she said.
He raised an eyebrow. “Sometimes?”
“Sometimes,” she repeated with a smile, then added with an air of impudence, “I never said it would be simple.”
“No, it never is simple, is it? Very well, sometimes then.” He kissed her gently again, but more lingeringly this time, and allowed himself to taste the pleasure of her lips before pulling back. “Too much?”