A Lady’s Choice Page 14

  The sound of approaching hooves and low conversation startled Elizabeth out of her examination and her chest tightened at the thought of being discovered. What would she say? She flattened herself against the wall and peeked out into the stableyard.

  The young boy she had seen before was speaking to a tall gentleman who led a black gelding. Elizabeth’s eyes widened as she recognized Mr. Darcy’s voice, but what she did not recognize was the jovial tone of it, or the smile upon his face as he spoke to the boy.

  Mr. Darcy handed over the reins and moved around the horse to unbuckle the saddle and Elizabeth watched as he removed the saddle in a smooth, practiced motion that spoke to the amount of time he spent with his horses. Another mystery to unravel. Had she really known this gentleman well enough to judge him by a first impression.

  But his proposal at Hunsford was not a first impression, she scolded herself. That had been Mr. Darcy at his cruelest, and that was the last impression she had of him.

  “Shall I take that for you, sir?” the boy chirped.

  “No, no. I shall take it myself. You see to Ember.” Elizabeth could hear the smile in Mr. Darcy’s voice, and she was sure she had never heard this tone of voice from him before. A jovial Mr. Darcy? Impossible, surely.

  Mr. Darcy waited as the stableboy removed the horse’s bridle and handed it over, and then the thought struck her—if he were to return the saddle to the tack room…

  Elizabeth looked desperately for a place to hide, but there was nowhere to go. She would be found no matter what, all she could do was try to look as though—

  But there was no time to plan any elaborate story, or excuses, as Mr. Darcy strode through the door of the tack room. Elizabeth’s fingers twisted together in front of herself, and she pried them apart and smoothed her skirt instead.

  Mr. Darcy stopped dead and his expression was a mixture of surprise and something Elizabeth could not quite determine. Was it anger? Resentment? A mixture of the two?

  “Mr. Darcy.”

  “Miss Bennet.”

  They had spoken at the same time, the words jumbling between them and Elizabeth tried to hide her nervous laughter behind her hand.

  “I am sorry to have startled you,” Elizabeth said quickly.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Darcy replied shortly. “Of all the places in England, I did not expect to see you in my stables, Miss Bennet. What brings you to Pemberley?”

  “My aunt and uncle.” Elizabeth felt a blush of embarrassment climbing up her neck as she realized that Mr. Darcy’s dark hair was damp and fell across his forehead in unkempt waves that almost begged to be brushed back into place. His linen shirt was open at the neck and she watched his pulse thud at the base of his throat. She swallowed thickly and dragged her eyes back to his. This was the most disagreeable gentleman of her acquaintance, how could she be feeling this way about him? “We are touring the countryside, and… we were told that the house was unoccupied. You were not expected back—I am sorry, if we had known—”

  Mr. Darcy smiled disarmingly, and Elizabeth was shocked once again at the man standing before her, so entirely unlike the one she had known in Hertfordshire, and indeed, so different from the gentleman who had offered such an insulting proposal at Hunsford.

  “It is true, Mrs. Reynolds was not expecting me until the morrow,” he said with a note of chagrin in his voice. He stepped into the tack room and hung the bridle upon a hook before lifting the saddle onto an empty beam the protruded from the wall.

  He plucked a linen cloth from a basket on the floor and began to polish the saddle, but it did not take long before Elizabeth began to suspect that he did it to avoid meeting her eyes.

  “How do you find Pemberley?” Mr. Darcy asked suddenly.

  Elizabeth was taken aback, she did not know quite how to respond. She expected that everyone who had seen the great estate would reply in the same manner. They would say that it was very grand, and very beautiful with a pleasing aspect, but he would have grown used to hearing such things.

  “I like it very well,” she began. “The gardens are beautiful, and the roses—your mother’s roses, Mrs. Reynolds told us—are a triumph. I should very much like to learn how to cultivate such beauty in my own gardens at Longbourn.”

  Mr. Darcy was looking at her strangely, and Elizabeth felt self-conscious for the second time that day. “Mrs. Reynolds was very kind and gave us a lovely tour of the house. The pianoforte—”

  Mr. Darcy smiled again. “A gift for Georgiana, my sister, I do not think even she has seen it yet.”

  “A generous gift, to be sure,” Elizabeth observed.

  “She has earned it,” Mr. Darcy replied seriously. “She is dedicated to her teachers, and her practicing has yielded excellent results. My mother was fond of the pianoforte, and it is wonderful to have music echoing in the halls once again.” He sounded so melancholy, but hopeful as well, and Elizabeth’s heart lightened just a little.

  Perhaps Mrs. Reynolds had not been exaggerating in her descriptions of her master. Perhaps the Mr. Darcy she had met in Hertfordshire had been a poor copy of who he really was.

  “I—” Elizabeth began but she was interrupted by Mr. Darcy as he dropped the linen cloth upon the saddle and stepped forward to take her hand in his.

  “Miss Bennet, Elizabeth, I cannot bear the thought of being so near you without begging for your forgiveness.” His eyes searched hers earnestly, and Elizabeth felt something twist inside her chest. It may have been her heart, but she could not be sure. “I thought I would not see you again, in fact, I had been convinced of it and made my peace with the knowledge that you would despise me for the rest of your days.”

  Elizabeth blinked in surprise, stunned that he should have even given her feelings any thought after that terrible day. “Oh, Mr. Darcy, I do not—”

  “If you cannot forgive me, I would know now.”

  Elizabeth narrowed her eyes at him and pulled her hand from his grasp. “You are very demanding, Mr. Darcy,” she said crisply. “It was not so many months ago that you demanded another answer from me, and it did not meet with your approval.”

  Mr. Darcy had the good sense to look aggrieved by her words. “You are correct, Miss Bennet,” he sighed. “In my haste to rid myself of those emotions which I had convinced myself I should not have possessed, I offended you, and wounded you deeply. For that I am truly sorry.”

  Elizabeth stared at him in stunned silence, but when she opened her mouth to reply, he stepped closer and took her hand in his again.

  “But once more I find that I must tell you everything that is in my heart, instead of what is in my head.”

  “Mr. Darcy, I—”

  “I had hoped that in the months since our last meeting, and indeed the time between the writing of that letter and this morning, that I would be able to shake the memory of your laugh, the sound of your voice—your eyes… from my mind.” He shook his head and chuckled ruefully. “But, alas, I have failed as miserably at that as I have at my attempt at a proposal.”

  “What are you saying?” Elizabeth managed to choke out.

  “That my thoughts and wishes remain unchanged,” he said simply. “But, at one word from you, I will abandon my suit and we shall speak of this no more. My heart seems determined enough to punish me for the folly of my pride longer than I had anticipated.”

  Elizabeth blinked in surprise, and the sudden rush of heat that flooded through her chest was surely due to the warmth of the day, and not the proximity of the gentleman who, until very recently, had occupied a place of abject scorn in her mind.

  “I will not press you for an answer,” he said quietly. “For you have reminded me of the price of my haste.” He looked up at her with those dark eyes and Elizabeth felt an unfamiliar twist in her stomach, or perhaps lower. She could smell the leather and sweat upon his skin, and the familiar freshness of the wet grass he had surely lain upon at the edge of the lake.

  “Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth said finally, but her voice was quiet. “I wil
l give you the forgiveness you seek.”

  Elizabeth did not have time to say anything more as Mr. Darcy closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against hers. Elizabeth stiffened for only a moment, but Mr. Darcy’s mouth was gentle and his lips were warm and soft. His fingers tightened around hers and drew her closer, and Elizabeth sagged against him and allowed the bonnet she clutched in her hand to fall to the ground.

  Sensing her capitulation, Mr. Darcy’s other hand tailed over her hip and gripped her waist gently. She fought to keep a moan from escaping her lips, but could not, and her mouth opened under his, inviting him to deepen the kiss and pull her closer to his chest.

  Without hesitation, he did so, and Elizabeth’s arms came up around his neck. Her fingers tangled in his damp hair and curled against his skin as Mr. Darcy’s hands began to rove over her body and the pressure of his lips became more insistent.

  What they were doing was wrong, and Elizabeth knew it with every desperate beat of her heart, but she wanted to know this Mr. Darcy, wanted to know the man who was master of Pemberley and was so utterly changed from the man she had known.

  His hand came up over her breast and cupped it gently through her gown and Elizabeth moaned again as she felt her nipples tighten with the intensity of wanting his touch.

  Mr. Darcy’s mouth dragged away from hers and he kissed a fiery trail across her jawline and down her neck, pausing at her collarbone as he groaned deeply and inhaled the scent of her sun-warmed skin.

  “Elizabeth, will you have me?” he asked huskily, and Elizabeth shuddered at the words. Mr. Darcy’s hand was at the small of her back, pressing her close to him, and she could feel the impossible hardness of his manhood pressing against her stomach.

  “Yes,” she whispered. “With all my heart.” She surprised herself with the boldness of her own words, and Mr. Darcy’s deep groan only solidified her emotions in her mind and her wayward heart. She had not been able to chase him from her mind since that day in Hunsford, and where she had once believed it was because of her dislike for him, she knew now that it had been something deeper. Something so much deeper.

  Elizabeth gasped as Mr. Darcy’s fingers tugged at the ribbons that held her gown in place and the neckline sagged to reveal her breasts and the aching tightness of her nipples to his hungry fingers and hot mouth.

  She tangled her hands in his dark hair as he bent his dark head to her breasts and suckled at the taut peaks of her breasts, teasing her and inflaming her desire with his tongue and teeth while his other hand trailed down the front of her gown and applied pressure to that secret place between her legs to make her gasp in surprise. He chuckled against her breast and Elizabeth gave herself over to the sensations that thundered through her trembling body.

  Elizabeth moaned and her head fell back. Her legs weakened under his touch and she held tightly to his neck. “Elizabeth,” he murmured. “My own Elizabeth.”

  The world began to spin, and Elizabeth’s breath was coming in short gasps as a heat began to build deep inside her when all at once there was a sharp noise outside the door; that of a metal bucket striking the ground. Elizabeth moaned at the loss of sensation as Mr. Darcy lifted his head from her breasts to look over his shoulder. As though he had only just remembered that they were in the stables, an pained expression crossed his features as he looked back at her. His eyes were dark with desire, and the promise within them made Elizabeth’s already strained breath catch in her throat.

  He kissed her quickly and released her from his grip. “Wait here,” he said softly. But as he turned to investigate the source of the noise, Elizabeth suddenly realized that she should not be here at all. Her aunt and uncle would surely be wondering where she was, and if she were discovered—

  Elizabeth adjusted the neckline of her gown frantically and re-tied the ribbons that held it in place. Her flushed cheeks would be hard to explain, but she would have to hope for the best. The fluttering of her heart in her chest, and the inexplicable heat and wetness between her legs only served to remind her that whatever had passed between herself and Mr. Darcy was something that should only be shared between a husband and wife. No matter the circumstance, if they were discovered it would mean ruin for her and her family.

  Elizabeth ran trembling hands over her hair and tried to tuck the curls that had escaped back under the velvet ribbons that circled her head. Her bonnet had fallen to the floor of the tack room and she plucked it from the hard-packed floor and brushed the dirt from it as quickly as she could. She could hear Mr. Darcy’s voice as he spoke to the stable boy, and without hesitating, she fled the small room and walked as quickly as she could toward the forest path that would lead her back to Pemberley’s gardens.

  She heard her name called but instead of waiting as every fibre of her body begged her to do, she quickened her pace and rushed through the oak trees and into the gardens. She ran past the roses and out into the courtyard where Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner were speaking with Mrs. Reynolds.

  “Lizzy! There you are,” Mrs. Gardiner said brightly. “We were just coming to look for you. It looks as though a rain storm is approaching and we must return to the Inn.”

  Elizabeth nodded in agreement and frowned at the dark clouds on the horizon. “We shall have to hurry,” she murmured. But it was not just the impending storm that worried her, it was seeing Mr. Darcy while she was in the company of her aunt and uncle.

  Her lips still burned from his kisses and her heart was still pounding with the teasing desire of his touch. She pressed her lips together and tried to ignore the way she was feeling. More practical thoughts should prevail. She knew that now. He had extracted her forgiveness, but what she feared now was that she had overstepped the line of reason. That she had opened herself up to the possibility of scandal—to ruin.

  “You are quite correct,” Mrs. Gardiner said. She mistook Elizabeth’s nervousness for something more related to the weather than anything else. “Mrs. Reynolds, thank you for your hospitality and your kind guidance. Pemberley is, indeed, as beautiful as we have been told. Is that not right, Lizzy?”

  “Yes, of course. Breathtaking. Thank you, Mrs. Reynolds.”

  “You are most welcome,” the housekeeper replied warmly. “I only wish that you had come on a day when my master was at home. He would be able to tell you much more about the history of the estate than I.”

  “Another time, perhaps,” Mrs. Gardiner said with a smile.

  Their carriage waited in the gravel of the courtyard and after saying their goodbyes, they walked quickly toward it. Elizabeth stepped up into the carriage and sat across from her aunt as Mr. Gardiner gave directions to the driver to return them to the Inn. He had just settled himself into the seat beside his wife when a shout from the far side of the house drew their attention.

  “Wait!”

  Elizabeth’s stomach twisted as she saw a figure appear from the gardens.

  Mr. Darcy.

  He jogged toward the carriage with his arm outstretched in greeting. “Lizzy, is that Mr. Darcy?” Mrs. Reynolds asked quietly. Elizabeth could only nod in agreement, her tongue was rooted to the roof of her mouth.

  He approached the carriage with a smile upon his face and Mr. Gardiner greeted him warmly. “Mr. Darcy, your housekeeper was kind enough to give us a small tour of your estate, I must ask if there is good fishing in your waterways.”

  Mr. Darcy smiled broadly at the question and Elizabeth felt the knot in her stomach loosen somewhat. He was so handsome when he smiled, and she wondered at the fact that he had not done it more in Hertfordshire. She had decided that she liked this version of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy more than the one that had been so rude to her at the Meryton Assembly. This Mr. Darcy was disheveled and relaxed, more himself than he had been in Hertfordshire.

  “Well stocked with brown trout, Mr. Gardiner,” he replied jovially. “However, I have been away for so long that I fear I have neglected the stocks. You are welcome to return and test your rod and reel any time. Perhaps if this rai
n blows over, you could return tomorrow as my guests.”

  The invitation was so casual, but Elizabeth’s breath caught once more as his dark eyes flickered to hers before focusing on her uncle once more.

  “A splendid idea,” Mr. Gardiner exclaimed. “I could not think of a more pleasant way to spend an afternoon. What say you, Mrs. Gardiner?”

  Elizabeth’s aunt nodded as she agreed and Elizabeth could not argue with their decision.

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes sparkled with an emotion Elizabeth could not identify but that familiar heat flared in her chest once more. “Wonderful,” Mr. Darcy said. “We shall expect you at tea time. I am eager for you to meet my sister, Miss Bennet,” he said to Elizabeth, “and you, Mrs. Gardiner. I know Georgiana will be glad to have company visiting from London.”

  “To be sure,” Mrs. Gardiner said warmly.

  Mr. Darcy bid them good day and whistled sharply to the driver. The carriage lurched forward as the man snapped the reins and Elizabeth sat back against the seat as they rolled away through the courtyard toward the road. Elizabeth kept her eyes on Mr. Darcy as he spoke with Mrs. Reynolds and then disappeared inside the house.

  She tried to control her breathing and the frantic beating of her heart. She would see him again, tomorrow, and he would no doubt renew their discussion—and perhaps more. Elizabeth was not sure if she would be able to bear it.

  “How wonderful, Lizzy,” Mrs. Gardiner gushed brightly. “To be invited back to Pemberley, and to meet Miss Darcy! Wonderful indeed.”

  Elizabeth’s uncle looked inordinately pleased with his invitation to partake in the fishing Pemberley offered, and Elizabeth did not wish to dampen their spirits at all. But some part of her hoped that the threatening clouds and the smell of rain in the air would mean a sustained storm that would foil their plans for the next day.

  But there was another part of her, somewhere deep in her heart that hoped the clouds would burn away with the rising sun and allow her to see Mr. Darcy again, if only for a moment.