Page 26 of Desired By Mr Darcy
“You are lying! Jane!” Lizzy exclaimed, her indignation tempered by the faintest hint of amusement. She knew her sister too well to believe such a claim.
“Hush!” Jane’s sharp tone cut through the quiet hallway. “A stolen kiss on a walk is expected, but to be alone in a room together late at night? You must control your passion, Lizzy, or your reputation shall be ruined!”
Lizzy’s smile faltered, and she turned her face away, her expression shadowed.
“I fear I am exactly what Mama accused me of, for it feels impossible. When I am near him…” Her voice trailed off; the unspoken words heavy between them.
“No more, Lizzy,” Jane said, her tone softening but still firm. “Perhaps I should ask Charles if we may stay with him.”
Lizzy halted mid-step, turning to face her sister with wide eyes.
“You think me incapable of resisting temptation?”
Jane said nothing, though she picked at the skin of her thumb – something she had always done when she felt guilty.
“It will not happen again,” Lizzy said quickly, her tone pleading. “I promise you that.”
Jane sighed, looking as though she wanted to believe her but wasn’t entirely convinced.
“You must. We have been given separate rooms here, Lizzy, but I think we ought to share.”
“Jane!” Lizzy’s exclamation was half-laugh, half-protest. “What do you think of me?! Do you think I shall wander the halls half-dressed and crazed with lust?!”
Jane’s lips twitched despite herself, though her tone remained serious.
“I did not, but now…”
“Mother has poisoned your mind against me,” Lizzy interrupted with mock severity, folding her arms across her chest. “I am sure I will be quite safe in my room, and I must admit it shall be nice to spread out a little. You always steal my covers.”
“I do not!” Jane protested, her indignation lasting only a moment before it dissolved into laughter. “Very well, as you wish.”
They reached the door to Lizzy’s bedroom, and Jane hesitated, lingering just a fraction longer than usual. Her gaze searched Lizzy’s face as though looking for reassurance.
“Stop it,” Lizzy said, her tone light but affectionate as she reached for the door handle. “Go to your own room and do not worry about me. Goodnight, sister.”
“Goodnight,” Jane replied softly, her voice tinged with lingering worry as she turned away.
Elizabeth closed the door behind her with a soft click, leaning against it for a moment as she let out a deep sigh. The room was warm, the fire burning low in the hearth casting flickering shadows across the richly adorned walls. Its grandeur, previously so delightful, now felt strangely oppressive.
She crossed the room to the vanity, where a delicate porcelain pitcher and basin awaited. Slowly, she removed her earrings and set them on the table, her reflection in the mirror catching her eye. Her cheeks were still flushed, her lips faintly swollen from the kiss she could not forget.
“Oh, Lizzy,” she murmured to herself, shaking her head. “What are you becoming?”
Her fingers moved deftly to unlace her gown, the rustle of fabric the only sound in the quiet room. She changed into hernightgown, the soft cotton brushing against her skin a small comfort. She slipped beneath the covers of the grand bed, the mattress far too large for one person.
Elizabeth lay still, willing her racing thoughts to quiet. Yet no matter how she tried, her mind would not settle. She turned onto her side, then her back, then sat up, fluffing the pillow far more aggressively than was required before slamming herself back down onto the bed. None of it did any good. The memory of Darcy’s touch, his voice, his whispered confession, echoed endlessly in her mind.
When the clock in the hall struck one, the soft chime cut through the silence, and Elizabeth realised she had not come even close to sleep. Her restless energy proved unbearable. She threw back the covers and put on her slippers. Perhaps a walk would help, if only to distract her. Perhaps she would go to the library and find a boring book to send her to sleep.
The corridor outside her room was dimly lit, the faint glow of sconces casting elongated shadows across the floor. Elizabeth moved carefully, her hands brushing the cold banister as she descended the wide staircase.
The house felt different at night, hushed and reverent, as though it too kept secrets. Her exploration began tentatively, her feet padding along thick carpets. She passed by the drawing room, her cheeks heating as she recalled Fitzwilliam’s lips upon hers, and then into the library, its vast shelves towering and silent.
Suddenly, a faint creak of wood from somewhere deeper in the house startled her. She turned toward the doorway, her breath catching. She hesitated for a moment before stepping back into the hallway, drawn now by curiosity. Following the source of the noise, she soon found herself near a room she had yet to see. The door was ajar, and light spilled faintly into the corridor.
She could not help herself; she peered round the door. What she saw made her breath catch.
Her Fitzwilliam sat in the chair near the desk, his head tipped back and eyes closed. Her eyes drifted down to see his hand grasped around…oh.
