Page 29 of Desired By Mr Darcy
“Good morning, Mama. How nice of you to join us.”
Mrs Bennet huffed and puffed as she took her seat, directing the maid serving breakfast how she took her tea. The rest of the party sat in stunned silence; the pleasant conversation they had been making prior to her arrival scuppered.
“I do hope the London modistes are as good as I have heard them to be. We have a very fine little shop in Meryton. The seamstress there used to work in Paris, if you would believe it, before all the nasty business erupted.”
Colonel Fitzwilliam, who might have disputed warfare being called ‘nasty business’, leant forward and drained his tea cup, standing up.
“Well, ladies, I best get on with the day. I wish you all luck in your endeavours at the modiste.”
“I shall join you,” Darcy said, rising too. “Elizabeth, would you be so good as to call into my study before you depart?”
He looked straight at her, and still she found herself avoiding his gaze.
“Of course.”
She tucked her head down and continued to pick at her breakfast, ignoring the conversation between her mother and Jane. Miss Darcy joined them, and still Lizzy made little contribution to the conversation.
“Well, we must be on our way. Lizzy, go to Mr Darcy as instructed, but see that you are not long,” Mrs Bennet said as they departed the breakfast room. “And the door is to remain open, of course.”
“Of course, Mama. I will be only a moment.”
She trudged unhappily towards Darcy’s study, retracing her steps from the previous night. Now, the hallway was floodedwith light and the house filled with people. Yet she could not help but recall the way her heart had raced, the way she had ached for him…she could not help but want him desperately. It was wrong, surely, to feel lust so intensely.
“Elizabeth, is that you?” his voice called to her.
She had been so lost in her thoughts that she had not realised that she now stood just as she had last night, outside the slightly open door of Fitzwilliam’s study. Now, she pushed the door open and walked in. He was in much the same place as the night before, but wearing considerably more clothing. He rose to greet her, handing her a small envelope.
“Would you see that the modiste receives this?”
She looked down at the note, closed with the Darcy wax seal.
“Of course.”
“I would ordinarily have a servant deliver it but…I must confess I wished to see you before you left.”
“I see.”
“I apologise if my actions last night caused a disagreement with your sister. Unskilled as I am in the subtilties of the fairer sex, I gained the impression that she was most displeased. I fear if it was so transparent to me, the displeasure she was suffering was significant.”
“It was nothing. Do not concern yourself.”
“It is my duty to concern myself when matters concern you, Elizabeth,” he said softly, stepping forward. “Forgive me, for I know I ought to know better, but might I have a kiss?”
Her heart fluttered at his boldness, for he had never before asked for affection. Though she still felt shame to her core, she reached up and pressed her lips to his. The kiss was entirely chaste,and yet she could not help that familiar burning that returned between her legs.
“I must go,” she blurted, stepping back from him as though she had been burned.
She turned, envelope clutched in her hand, and ran from the room.
Chapter Nine
Darcy
Something was wrong.
He could not understand the change in Elizabeth’s demeanour. Last night had been intoxicating, the sweet stolen kisses igniting his soul. What had happened after, though another soul would never know, was his greatest shame. What a wretch he was, unable to control himself in a public room. Anyone could have stumbled upon him in his study, hand around his cock as though his life depended on it. He had been desperate in his search for relief, the stolen kiss igniting the passion he had tried so hard to quell.
Whatever had transpired between them last night had clearly affected Elizabeth, for she could scarcely look at him. She had kept her eyes firmly fixed upon the breakfast table, not even daring to look at him for a few seconds. The kiss they had just shared was devoid of any real passion, quite unlike any they had shared before. She must be angry at him; he was supposed to be a gentleman, and he had risked her reputation. He owed her a thousand apologies for his indiscretion.
