Stolen Moments
Summary: Remember that rainy proposal scene in the 2005 Pride & Prejudice movie? What if that scene had a different ending?
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Jane Austen.
Chapter 1: Post-Proposal
"…I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed upon to marry."
Darcy saw the fury flaming in Elizabeth's eyes and his rational thought process came to an abrupt halt. What was it about her that made him lose his senses? She apparently despised him but he had never desired her more than this moment. She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined. Her damp curls clung to her face. Her familiar lavender scent seemed intoxicating. Her face was inches away from his; her lips tempting him. He leaned in and softly kissed her lips, closing his eyes for a brief moment to relish the feel of her; so soft, so sweet, so beautiful. He braced himself for the slap that was sure to follow.
It did. He watched her eyes change from fury to regret.
She reached up to gently touch his cheek where she had just slapped him: "I am terribly sorry, Mr. Darcy," she told him, regretting her immediate response to his kiss.
He placed his hand over hers, still on his cheek: "You were quite correct to strike me, Miss Elizabeth; I deserve much worse. I had no right to take such liberties with you," he told her, softly pressing her hand into his cheek.
She withdrew her hand and stepped back. "I would think that a gentleman so concerned with the propriety of others would exert better control over his own behavior, Mr. Darcy," she replied, recalling his harsh assessment of her family members' lack of propriety.
"Yes, I should have done so but for some reason, unknown to me, I lose control of my senses when you are in close proximity," he admitted.
"So then, am I to blame for your lack of decorum, Sir?" she asked, wiping the rain away from her face.
"No, I am solely to blame, Miss Elizabeth," he admitted remorsefully. He offered her his handkerchief to dry her face, which she accepted.
Dabbing her face and neck with the handkerchief she wondered what had come over him. "Forgive my confusion, Mr. Darcy, but I have trouble comprehending why someone not handsome enough to tempt you has evoked such a lack of control," she said angrily, recalling his harsh comment on her appearance at the Meryton assembly.
He was mortified at hearing his own severe words repeated from the woman he loved. He reached down to grasp her hand but she withdrew, hiding her hands behind her back. He finally realized; that remark had been one of the causes of her poor opinion of him. "How you must hate me for that remark; I beg you to forgive me, Miss Elizabeth. I spoke in haste and was not in my right mind that evening. Miss Elizabeth, I sincerely apologize," he told her with the utmost sincerity.
"Are you in your right mind now, Mr. Darcy?" she asked.
"That is somewhat unclear but I can tell you with most certain clarity that you are indeed handsome enough to tempt me; tempt me, enchant me, entrance me, bewitch me, bewilder me – you have indeed done all of these to me and more, unconsciously as you say. I can only imagine what you could have done to me if you had applied conscious thought," he told her, feeling helpless.
She gazed into his eyes, filled with so much emotion. "Mr. Darcy, I know not how you have so successfully managed to change the subject. I believe we were arguing – about something."
"Yes and I believe you have formed a poor opinion of me based on our first meeting. I would like the opportunity to correct that, if you will permit me." He stood close to her once again, inches away from her face. He gazed into her eyes and felt himself losing control, losing his senses, getting lost in those enchanting eyes, her lavender scent fueling his desire.
"Mr. Darcy, you must not kiss me again unless I give you permission," she warned.
"No. Of course, you are right," he said stepping away then quickly stepping close again. "Does this mean that you might allow another kiss?" he asked hopefully.
She considered this possibility: "I may or may not – but certainly not until we have resolved our differences," she replied, trembling slightly.
"Miss Elizabeth, may I escort you back to the parsonage? I should never forgive myself if you should be taken ill. The rain has somewhat subsided; I think it best if we leave now," he suggested.
"Thank you, Mr. Darcy," she replied as she walked toward the road.
Walking beside her, he longed to make amends as quickly as possible, "May I have the opportunity to clarify my history with respect to Mr. Wickham? I believe you may have received erroneous information on past events." She glanced at him sideways but did not respond. "If I may call on you tomorrow with my cousin, he will verify the story. I know you consider him to be an honorable gentleman," he suggested.
She did consider Colonel Fitzwilliam an honorable gentleman. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I believe that is acceptable," she concurred.
She had been holding her hands behind her back to prevent him from grasping them. He offered his arm, she accepted and he covered her hand with his own. He relished the feel of her soft, warm skin. They walked in silence for a few minutes as he helped her to navigate the mud puddles. The rain had started again and it became increasingly urgent to reach the parsonage as quickly as possible. "I sincerely hope that I have not lost your good opinion, Miss Elizabeth," he told her.
"No indeed you have not, Mr. Darcy. I only regret that I may have lost yours," she replied with her eyes cast down, recalling his past statement about people who commit offences against him.
"Certainly not! Nothing could cause me to lose my good opinion," he replied in earnest, attempting to reassure her. "I realize that you have rejected my offer, Miss Elizabeth, but I would like the opportunity to clarify my position. If there is any possibility that I may secure your hand, I will do anything in my power," he told her.
"Mr. Darcy, I must apologize for being so harsh. I was so angry that I spoke in haste," she told him. Recalling their brief history, she realized that, other than a few conversations, she knew very little about him. "I must admit that I was so set against you that I never really took the time to know your true character," she told him.
"I have never had my character questioned before," he admitted.
"I have many questions," she replied.
Squeezing her hand, he responded: "I give you leave to ask me anything of your desire."
As they arrived at the door of the parsonage, she told him: "I believe I shall take my usual morning walk in the park tomorrow morning, Mr. Darcy."
He smiled; gratified that she was offering to meet him again so soon: "I also enjoy a morning walk, Miss Elizabeth" he replied, stroking her hand.
The front door was thrown open and Charlotte emerged in a state of alarm: "Lizzy! There you are!" Charlotte exclaimed. "Mr. Darcy! You must come inside immediately," she insisted.
Mr. Collins was aghast at the sight of a soaking wet Darcy, despite the fact that Elizabeth was also soaking wet: "Mr. Darcy! Lady Catherine would never forgive me if I allowed her nephew to leave my abode soaked to the skin!" he exclaimed.
"I am quite well, Mr. Collins," Darcy replied, hoping to avoid the attentions of the parson. Despite his objections, Charlotte pushed him inside and shut the door. Mr. Collins pushed him closer to the fireplace.
Elizabeth was rushed upstairs, leaving Darcy alone with Collins. The parson gushed effusive praises upon Darcy for his gallantry in escorting his lovely cousin through the rain and the mud, his elegant cousin who was born to be a duchess, his distinguished aunt who had bestowed such gracious favors to someone so undeserving as himself, and his brave cousin who risks life and limb to preserve the honor of the country; but Darcy heard none of it. He could only hear Elizabeth's voice and, closing his eyes, saw her lips so close to his. Perceiving the gentleman to be ill, Collins placed a warm blanket around him and guided him into a chair. When Darcy recovered from his reverie, he stood and thanked the parson for his kind attentions and inquired if he would be permitted to call on Miss Elizabeth the following day, to check on her health and well-being. Being assured of his welcome to the parsonage whenever he was inclined to grace them with his company, he left the cottage and returned to Rosings.
He knocked on Richard's chamber door. Richard was surprised to see him. "There you are Darcy! Where did you disappear to? I was planning to formulate some excuse to explain your absence at dinner," he said in his usual, amiable wit.
Darcy entered the chamber and Richard closed the door behind him. "I need a drink, Richard," Darcy told him, without answering the question.
Richard observed Darcy's damp hair and clothing and his worried countenance. "Yes, it seems you would benefit from a drink," he said as he poured and handed a glass to Darcy. He accepted the glass and sat in the chair near the fireplace, sighing deeply. "Is it Miss Elizabeth?" Richard guessed.
Darcy closed his eyes and shook his head. "You know me far too well, Richard; however, what you do not know is that I made her an offer today and she refused me – quite vehemently."
Richard was taken aback. "I think I shall join you," he replied, pouring himself a drink and siting down opposite Darcy. "Drink, then tell me," he ordered. They both downed their drinks in one swallow.
Darcy closed his eyes. "She quite despises me," he said.
"But…" Richard began but Darcy held up his hand to stop him.
"She has good reason. I have behaved quite despicably." He went on to explain that the woman he separated from Bingley was Elizabeth's elder sister. "I thought I was doing Charles a great service but it seems I have done both of them and myself a great disservice. I promised Miss Elizabeth that I would go to London to set things right with Charles. Will you accompany me?" he asked.
Richard readily agreed. "Of course! It is a small thing to ask if it pleases Miss Elizabeth."
"That is not her only complaint against me," Darcy continued. "It seems that Wickham is spreading falsehoods about me in Hertfordshire."
"That blackguard! I should like to have one minute alone with him and see which one of us comes out alive!" Richard scowled.
"As would I," Darcy agreed. "Will you accompany me to the parsonage tomorrow afternoon? I wish to relay the entire history to Miss Elizabeth and I know that she trusts you."
"It should be my pleasure. I should like nothing better," Richard replied. "Will that satisfy all of her complaints against you?" he asked.
"I am afraid not," Darcy replied, shaking his head. "Besides insulting her by pointing out the inferiority of her circumstances," he hesitated a moment, "I kissed her. Or rather, I stole a kiss from her," hanging his head with shame.
Richard reacted with shock, which then slowly transformed into amusement. "I can well understand how any man would lose his senses over one so lovely as Miss Elizabeth," he said with a knowing smile.
"Yes, that is exactly what happened, but Miss Elizabeth was not as understanding," Darcy told him.
"No, I can imagine not. I have no envy for you, Cousin. You have your work cut out for you," he said with sympathy.
"I shall rely on your assistance tomorrow," Darcy reminded his cousin.
"You shall have it," Richard said resolutely.
"You may have to endure the endless praises of the parson," he cautioned.
Richard laughed heartily: "I find the sycophantic parson quite amusing. I shall enjoy his praises while you use your charms to woo the lovely Miss Bennet!" he replied. "You do know how to charm a young lady, do you not?" he teased.
"My skills are not as well developed as yours are, I fear," Darcy replied awkwardly.
Richard laughed. "Oh yes, I think I shall quite enjoy myself tomorrow afternoon," he said as he poured each of them another drink. They would need fortification to endure dinner and an entire evening with their aunt.
(Author's Note: Reviews / Comments?)