When Elizabeth retired for the night, she could hear Georgiana’s labored coughing from the next room, and found it difficult to sleep thinking of how she must be feeling. Remembering how she had sat with Jane when she was ill at Netherfield, on impulse she made her way to Georgiana’s room, careful to avoid notice as she was dressed already for bed. Georgiana was in fact very grateful to have some distraction from her ailment, and Elizabeth ended up spending several hours with her in the kind of sisterly conversation that Georgiana had always craved before she finally fell into a restless slumber.
On returning to her room, Elizabeth found that she was now too alert for sleep. She picked up the novel that she was reading, but decided that it was too engaging for her current needs; what she required was some dull sermons or some such that would bring sleep quickly. There would certainly be something to fit the description in the extensive library below.
She debated dressing, but dismissed the idea as too much bother. It was well past midnight, and no one would be up and about to see her, and even if they did, her dressing gown was quite modest. Taking her candle, she slipped out of her room, down the stairs, and to the library. Once in the door, she stopped to find her bearings in the extensive space, recalling from her earlier explorations that there had been some religious books along the far wall. Passing behind a series of chairs, she had just turned the corner to reach them when a light to one side caught her attention, causing her to bring her hand over her heart in surprise.
“Very fetching, Miss Bennet.” Darcy’s familiar voice came from out of the shadows.
She could barely make out his form, lit only by a small candle. She blushed furiously as she recalled her current improper attire, but told herself firmly that she was every bit as covered as she would be by her normal apparel, and, after all, he had the opportunity to see her with her hair down before, so there should be no reason for concern—at least so long as no one knew of this encounter. “Mr. Darcy! I did not expect anyone to be about at this hour.”
“Nor did I,” he replied. He had been drinking in the sight of her, illuminated by the candle in her hand, since she stepped in the door, taking in the glimpses of her nightgown beneath the clinging dressing gown, and her long dark curls in disarray just as he had pictured. Though good manners required that he stand when she entered, he stayed seated, knowing that if he moved at all, he would move much further than he should. They could not be more alone, and he had been sitting here for hours longing for her; his need to take her in his arms and make her his was almost more than he could bear. “What brings you to burn the midnight oil?” he asked, knowing that if she said anything at all about thoughts of him, he would be completely lost.
“Georgiana could not sleep—her cough was keeping her awake—and we sat up together talking,” she said, feeling as if she were babbling. “Then I could not fall asleep, and I thought something to read…” she paused, swallowing hard, as her eyes adjusted enough to make out that he was wearing nothing more than shirt and breeches. “… Something to read might help me sleep.” Her mouth felt dry, and her feet seemed rooted to the ground.
“I believe you might be able to find one or two books here,” he said dryly. “Please help yourself.” Or you could come here to me, and I will happily ensure you do not mind being kept awake, my love.
Far too aware of his presence, she turned and selected a book almost at random—it had ‘Sermons’ in the title, at least. She could feel his eyes running over her. The tension palpable in the air, she said, “I think that this should do.” Her gaze was drawn again to the shape of his shoulders, undisguised by waistcoat and tailcoat.
He could see the look of awareness in her eyes. “Go to bed, Elizabeth, while I can still call myself a gentleman,” he said, keeping the tone of his voice lighter than his words would suggest.
She could not help smiling impudently in response. “Good night, William,” she said obediently, a touch of mischief in her voice as she dropped a formal curtsey before turning to leave. She had not gone more than a half dozen steps before she felt her hand seized by his. Slowly she turned to face him, her heart pounding.
“Say that again,” he commanded.
Her breath caught. He looked even more devastatingly attractive from only an arms-length away. It is time for the coward’s way out, she thought. “Good night, Mr. Darcy,” she said sedately.
With a slight smile, he hooked his fingers through the belt of her dressing gown. “Not quite right. Try again, Elizabeth.”
She ran her tongue over her dry lips before finally allowing herself to meet his eyes, knowing full well that he would be able to read in hers how much she desired him. “Good night, William,” she said softly.
“Not yet, my love,” he said. Dropping her hand, he took her candle from her and set it on the mantle behind her, his eyes never leaving hers. Very slowly he bent his head toward hers, and just before their lips met, she gasped as she realized that while she had been distracted, his hands had been untying the belt of her dressing gown, and were now sliding inside. The warm touch of his hands on her waist through the thin fabric of her nightgown made her forget everything beyond the rush of heat running through her as he captured her mouth in a kiss that seemed to demand her very soul.
She felt as if she were melting as his hands caressed her, slowly traveling around to her back in a thorough exploration of her curves. She moaned, her mouth still against his, as he traced up the line of her spine to her neck where his fingertips crept under the neckline of her nightgown. Unable to control the wild sensations traveling through her, she put her hands to his chest, savoring the shape of his muscles beneath his shirt, and slid them up to his neck, for once unencumbered by a cravat, where the feeling of his warm skin under her fingers excited her yet further.
Darcy tried to focus his attention on her kisses, tasting the passion that was clearly sweeping between them, but the rest of his body remained all too aware of how little stood between them, and as he finally pulled her to him, the sensation of her softness molding itself to him stole away any remaining rational thought. He slid his hands down over her ribs to take possession of the curves of her hips, and as he pressed her against him in an urge as old as man, his fingers made the stimulating discovery that she seemed to be wearing nothing at all underneath the nightgown.
He was lost, and he knew it. He could not wait for weeks; he had to have her. Knowing that she could feel the evidence of his arousal, he began to spread kisses down her sensitive neck in the way that he knew inflamed her, tasting the skin of each hollow as she arched herself against him. He caressed her hips, discovering how this made her writhe against him in a most pleasurable manner. If only he could be sure that she would not refuse him…