Hello. This is my first post here but I've been a lurking reader for years. I love reading and writing JAFF. I write steamy stories, so if if you like your cuppa hot stick around.
Chapter One
Elizabeth sat up in her bed, gasping for air. She had never had a dream like that before. It appeared to be the local assembly again. This time, however, the tall and proud Mr. Darcy did not insult her. He danced with her, his gaze never leaving her eyes. The touch of his hand caused her to shiver. The lively dancing, a great form of exercise, barely concealed the frantic energy building between them. The tension rose and rose, more akin to the energy found in the final movements at a concert hall than to a public ball. Just before she thought she would suffocate from the excitement building in her, she awoke.
Calming her breath, she shook her head. She felt attraction before. Her attempts to lead her youngest sister Lydia down a path decorum came from knowing first-hand the difficulty of having high animal and lively spirits. Tonight's dream felt far beyond what she had ever known before. It felt primal.
Why should she react that way to Mr. Darcy? He did not speak with her, or nearly anyone at tonight's ball. Instead of dancing with her, he insulted. Yet, her fanciful imagination restructured the evening. His eyes had remained on her for much of the evening. In her dream world, she turned his critical stare into admiration. Nothing could be further from the truth, and she knew it. He could never return her admiration. Even now, her mind screamed no while her body betrayed her.
Taking deep breaths, she waited for her racing pulse to slow. She would simply avoid him during his stay at Netherfield. It should not be difficult, he clearly loathed their society. Reassured of her presence of mind, she attempted to find sleep again while praying for no more dreams.
Three miles away from Elizabeth Bennet, a gentleman found sleep difficult. Journeying from London earlier in the day in a crowded carriage should have ensured exhaustion. The company included his closest friend, Charles Bingley, and his sisters and brother-in-law. Only an hour into the ride, Darcy questioned his agreement to reside for several weeks at Bingley's leased country house. How had he ever thought he could tolerate the presence of Bingley's younger sister Caroline for so many weeks? She talked incessantly, constantly seeking his approval of her or her thoughts. In such annoyed spirits, Fitzwilliam Darcy entered the small town of Meryton's assembly rooms.
A quick perusal of the crowd assured no one of his acquaintance or of any importance. Consorting with country folk might have put him at more ease than he felt at a London ball, but he soon overheard himself as the topic of discussion. Well known as sedate but rich and honorable in Town, Darcy experienced the attentions of many who only sought to raise themselves up through the acquaintance. He was not, however, the most noteworthy individual in any room. His father had not passed on a title, and while his relations included nobles, others recommended themselves to strangers far better. Finding himself an object of curiosity set him distinctly on edge.
By the time Bingley approached him and insisted he dance, Darcy could no longer hide his foul mood. Angry at his friend for suggesting such an experience for the evening, he flatly refused to dance with any lady but Bingley's sisters. Thus, he surmised, began his troubled mind.
He lied, and deceit always troubled him. She looked more than tolerable. She heard his insult, and he knew it. How could one apologize to a lady for calling her unhandsome? Even now, her eyes haunted him. What had he seen? A fire burnt within those brown eyes. They held disbelief, anger and hurt. But before he insulted her, in the brief second when their eyes first locked, he perceived something else entirely. She listened to their conversation with curiosity. She felt an interest in his words, in attracting his notice. She did not primp or resituate her bountiful assets to gain his agreement to dance. No, her eyes held intelligence in them. She would never stoop to that. Feeling himself pulled to look deeper into her dark eyes, he shook his head and stated his denial. He spent the rest of the evening following her every movement.
How might the evening had gone if he requested her hand for a set? Would her hand have lingered on his? Would he smell her perfume as she moved around him? He could envision her bouncing to the music, her cheeks growing rosy with the exercise. Her breath would quicken. She smiled on the floor with other men. She might have smiled for him as well. Indeed, he could well imagine the torture he would have felt. Savages across the world danced to their gods and so would he have done. He would have laid himself at her altar and prayed to touch heaven itself.
He felt the bed linen over him tug as the effect of his thoughts made itself known. His hand tingled in anticipation, but he would not oblige what his body so clearly wished. Elizabeth Bennet was a gentleman's daughter. He would not think of her when he saw to his needs. No, in the morning, after banishing thoughts of her, he could indulge. He could not dishonor a lady in such a way, however great the temptation. He awoke as frustrated and aroused as the previous night. She tempted him beyond his wildest imagination.
A week later, Elizabeth entered Netherfield's drawing room; the Bennets had been invited to dinner along with the Lucas family. Mr. Bennet stayed behind, as was his wont. Mr. Bingley noticed only one person. Enthralled by her sister Jane's beauty, he delayed rising at their entrance. Mr. Hurst, likely suffering with gout, struggled to rise. Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley nodded their heads, not quite smiling. Clearly they preferred Jane's company. Elizabeth believed them proud and disapproving of Hertfordshire, no matter that their money reportedly came from trade. Mr. Darcy seemed to rise at a normal rate and executed the civility with perfection. She raised her eyebrow at him, surprised he could perform what he must not feel.
As he stood at Miss Elizabeth's entrance, Darcy realized how bitter he must have felt the night of the assembly. Some would say her eldest sister was the beauty of the family, but Miss Elizabeth's eyes enthralled him. Refusing to allow her bewitchment to continue, he focused on her slightly flawed figure as she walked across the room to take a seat.
Fashion preferred tall and lean ladies. He never understood why, with all the emphasis on Greek naturalism, Society wished to deny a lady's natural shape so evident in the sculptured nudes. A generation before and exceedingly large, false hips were the fashion while breasts were hardly featured. He scoffed at the ridiculousness of it all. As a warm blooded male, he would prefer a truly natural shape. Hips like Miss Elizabeth's were ideal for grasping. Still, her gown should not display them, combined with her full bosom it did not create the slender column every other lady desired to attain. Did not the ladies of Hertfordshire care for fashion?
Dinner was called, and Miss Bingley gripped his arm tightly as they entered the dining parlor. Her fingers felt as sharp as a hawk's talons. Bingley had arranged for Miss Bennet to sit near him. Despite Miss Bingley's best intentions, Darcy had the misfortune of sitting near Mrs. Bennet. In an interesting turn of fate, Miss Elizabeth sat on his right. Unnoticed by either, they put their napkins in their laps simultaneously. Their fingers brushed one another's under the table. Both jumped at the contact.
Elizabeth's breath caught. Surely she had touched another man's hand before? Although unexpected, there was nothing shocking about the contact. Why did her heart race?
Darcy attempted to ignore Elizabeth's presence, but his body would not obey. Never before had a simple touch felt so erotic. Behave, he told himself as another portion of his mind wondered how to recreate the effect.
"Miss Elizabeth," Miss Bingley spoke around him, "I have heard you play the pianoforte and sing."
"A little," she replied. "My sister, Mary, is the gifted musician in the family."
Caroline sneered and said coldly, "Oh, yes. I did hear a remark calling her the most accomplished lady in the county."
She glanced at the lady in question and seemed to dismiss her based on her lack of beauty compared to her sisters.
Miss Mary spoke, seemingly unaware of the inspection. "I do not consider myself vain should I say such a report pleases me to hear it. For, vanity relies on what others think of oneself. Pride, however…"
She was interrupted by her mother, calling nearly half way across the table. "Mary, none of the sermonizing, please!" Without moderating her volume to speak to a nearer guest, she resumed speaking. "You see how he dotes on her already, Lady Lucas? I believe we will have Jane wed to Mr. Bingley before Christmas. Indeed, it all works according to my plan!"
Darcy felt the disgust rising in his throat. Miss Bingley made no attempt to hide her disdain.
"You know I wish with all of my heart each of your five girls were well settled. I often consider the anxieties and pain you must suffer from the lack of an heir and the entailment of the estate," Lady Lucas replied.
Darcy's eyes widened at the backhanded words. Perhaps Hertfordshire cared little for beauty and fashion but their cutting ways were just as severe as London.
Mrs. Bennet was silent for a moment, and Elizabeth trembled in fear. Her mother could be so vulgar! "Mama, Charlotte told me she would bring the recipe for the pies you enjoyed at Lucas Lodge last week so we may give them to Cook."
"Oh, yes! I daresay Charlotte could speak with Cook about the specifics, as familiar with the cooking as she is," Mrs. Bennet nodded her head in perceived triumph. She looked about the table, and her eyes landed upon Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth cringed in expectation.
"Mr. Darcy!" her shrill voice rang out and he lifted his eyes from his plate. "Sir William was just telling us of the Militia regiment that is soon to arrive. Should they give a ball, or should Mr. Bingley, I hope, dear sir, to see you dance more than you did at the assembly."
"Indeed!" Sir William cried. "You were quite adept at the science. There is no greater compliment to give a place than dancing! It is the mark of truly refined society."
"And every unrefined society," Darcy spoke with cold civility. "Every savage can dance. I rarely dance, only when I cannot avoid it."
Beside him Elizabeth scoffed. "I did not know there were human hybrids amongst us."
"Excuse me?"
"You first claimed every human dances and yet claim to not enjoy it and to not indulge. Taken in a different light and perhaps it could mean that you found our ball unrefined, but we know even the King himself dances and surely you could not make yourself superior to him. Even the Bible records King David dancing in victory and the Lord being well pleased. Certainly you do not know better than the Almighty. I can only conclude then, sir, that you are, somehow, inhuman." Elizabeth sat back in her chair and took a sip of wine.
Miss Bingley gasped with indignation. "I…I…I believe you mean nonhuman!" She seemed pleased to find Elizabeth in error.
Darcy fumed, but before he could reply, Elizabeth spoke again while looking directly at him. Her dark eyes held a myriad of expressions. "Unless, of course, you profess things you do not mean and merely looked for some astonishing proverb in order to amaze the whole room."
He recognized her challenge, but also her clemency. He nodded his head and gave a half smile. "I do not have the ease as others do, of speaking well to strangers."
"Then you must practice, sir."
Sir William joined in with the story of his first time visiting St. James'. His wife reminded him of pieces he had forgotten to tell. Mrs. Bennet kept them occupied with all things London related for the remainder of the meal. Miss Bingley attempted to speak with him at every turn about the superiority of her position in London society. Despite Elizabeth's manner towards him, he found himself only wishing to engage her more.
Elizabeth's mind was quite divergent. She would be pleased never to speak to him again. She startled when he leaned in to whisper close to her ear, his breath warm on her skin.
"Shall we call a truce now?"
She took a sip of wine before replying lowly, "A truce to what?"
"This battle of wits. I concede the field."
She raised her eyebrow. "Do you admit to firing the first shot?"
He paused. "Your final assessment was quite correct. I had no intention to amaze the whole room, only to force Bingley to leave me alone."
"Ah, so it is shocking that you would say a lady within hearing distance is only tolerable and not worthy of a dance with you?"
"It is shocking that a man could even think it!" His voice rose a bit, and he received a curious glance from Miss Bingley and Miss Lucas, who were otherwise in their conversations.
"I agree! No gentleman would be so unfeeling and inhuman."
Darcy held back a growl at her misunderstanding. He had no opportunity to reply as the meal ended. Afterwards, Elizabeth stayed with her friend Miss Lucas for most of the evening.
Once their guests left, Miss Bingley could not restrain her opinion. "I have never been more bored in my life! Is there no style, no conversation to be had in this place?"
"I found them very agreeable!" Bingley replied. "The eldest Miss Bennets, especially, are lovely and proper."
"I do like Jane Bennet," Miss Bingley agreed.
"She is a sweet girl," said Mrs. Hurst. "Mr. Darcy what do you think of the Bennet ladies? Do they improve upon a second acquaintance? You would not dance with them at the assembly?"
Mr. Hurst lazily interjected, "They are the reputed beauties of the county. Sir William refers to the second one as a jewel. He fancies a match with her for his son, but I am sure if you prefer her you could snatch her up."
Uncomfortable with the inquisition and any possibility of gossip about nonexistent regard he may have for Elizabeth Bennet, Darcy quickly exclaimed, "She a beauty? I would as soon call her mother a wit!"
Bigley looked at him with disappointment in his eyes, and he could only shake his head. The others in the room erupted in laughter and complimented his wit. Before bed that night his self-loathing doubled. Another evening in Elizabeth's presence and another lie passed his lips. Worse, he had the opportunity to make amends and he had not. The absolute worst, however, was the way his hand yearned to brush hers again. To trail his fingers up her soft arms and to her smooth neck. He desired to stroke her silky cheeks and kiss the mouth that alternately spoke such sharp and teasing words to him. She cared so little for his opinion, something he had no experience with, but he wanted that fire that burned in her eyes to burn for him. It could never be in reality, only in the dark moments of his chambers could he indulge in such thoughts. Denying his longing for release, he attempted to read until sleep finally claimed him.
At Longbourn Jane and Elizabeth conversed before bed.
"He is everything a gentleman ought to be!" Jane exclaimed in reference of Mr. Bingley.
"You said that the other day. Do you know anything more about him or feel anything differently upon a second meeting?"
Jane blushed, and Elizabeth laughed. "We are such opposites. You feel greater attachment to a person at each meeting. For me, the charm of a new acquaintance slips a little away with each meeting. This is why I will be an old maid."
"You will not! Someday someone will catch your eye," Jane spoke through a great yawn.
As Elizabeth blew out the candle, she regretted that she had to admit to herself someone already caught her eye. With his arrogance, however, he could never touch her heart. She decided there was no harm in reliving the jolt she felt as his hand brushed hers.
"Elizabeth, do you not hear me, child? I said go and fetch your father," Mrs. Bennet commanded. Elizabeth jumped at the strident tone. She had been sitting in Longbourn's parlor and staring out the window. The Netherfield party was expected any moment and, curiously, Elizabeth found she looked forward to the evening. She needed to sketch Mr. Darcy's character. Her attraction had nothing to do with it. Tearing her mind from images of his broad shoulders and muscular physique, she left the room for the library.
"Papa, they will arrive any moment. Mama requests your presence." She spoke to where she knew he sat in the back of the dark room. No amount of light could help.
"What use am I?"
"You are our father. We love you," she replied.
"I am nothing anymore!" He cried in rage, flinging his arm to the side and sending a tray clattering to the ground.
Elizabeth felt no fear. Her father's eyesight had been failing for years and in the last few months all but vanished. His books, more beloved to him than his family, were of no use to him any longer.
"You know that is not true." Hearing the sounds of visitors arriving, she walked to his side and helped him stand. "Come, Papa."
"I can do it on my own!" He growled at her.
He grabbed his cane that allowed him to test for things in his path. She knew he also mentally counted the steps to the parlor. Sighing, she stooped to pick up the tray before leaving to return to the parlor.
She exited the dark room and momentarily was blinded by the light from the hallway. Blinking through it, she took another step and collided with a tall, strong form.
"Miss Elizabeth!" Mr. Darcy gasped out. His easily caught her before she fell. "Are you well?"
Discombobulated from the alarm and his presence, she could only nod her head.
He peered into her eyes. "You are certain?"
"Yes," she found her voice at last. "I apologize I could not see because of the light."
"Yes, I am surprised to see you leaving a dark library."
"How did you know it was a library?"
A small smile formed on his lips. "What other room would smell like musty books?"
Elizabeth returned his smile. He reached his hand toward her face, and she felt she could not breathe. Gently he brushed away a curl and then rubbed her temple for a moment. Surely she imagined the entire encounter, especially when his head came closer to hers.
"There, I believe I got it all."
Dazed, Elizabeth questioned, "All?"
"There was a splatter of tea, I believe, here by your eyes."
He continued to look intently at her. Belatedly, she realized his hand still held her waist.
"Oh, thank you." Shaking her head to clear her thoughts she added, "We ought to continue to the parlor."
He slowly took his hand off her waist, it gently trailed down the side of one hip, causing her to shiver.
"After you," he replied. His voice was measurably deeper than it had been.
Confused by the entire encounter, and alarmed at her reaction, she slowly led him to the parlor.
Darcy paused a moment before following, willing his member to behave. Turning to follow he watched as her body moved down the hallway believing her figure may be the death of him.
Upon entering the parlor, Darcy was introduced to Mr. Bennet. He had not been at the assembly or when the family called on Netherfield. Darcy had thought it irregular, but Bingley excused it away. Watching the gentleman now, Darcy perceived something peculiar about him. Each time one Mrs. Bennet or one of the younger daughters began speaking too loudly, Mr. Bennet winced. Darcy understood the sentiment, their voices were shrill and annoying, but only a man with very acute hearing would react as strongly as Mr. Bennet. Darcy also watched Elizabeth, who frequently glanced at her father with a worried expression. When the tea was served, and Darcy saw how Mr. Bennet handled it, he knew for certain what afflicted the man.
As he had supposed would be the case, Mr. Bennet lingered in the parlor and was the last to arrive at the table when dinner was called. Unsurprisingly, Elizabeth sat on one of Mr. Bennet's sides. Smiling at the memories of their last dinner, Darcy harbored high hopes for this evening. As before, Darcy and Elizabeth's hands grazed each other under the table. Again, he noted Elizabeth's shiver. He could not capture her attention as before though. She focused on anticipating her father's needs.
The family did well at hiding it, Bingley and his family did not seem to notice, but Darcy recognized Mr. Bennet's impaired vision from spending time with his aging tutor. As was the case with his tutor, he engaged Mr. Bennet in the conversation of philosophy. Elizabeth joining them and having opinions of merit shocked and pleased him.
At last, dinner concluded, and Darcy realized he had not even cared if Mrs. Bennet and the younger daughters were too rambunctious. Miss Bingley had been seated far away from him, and he was free to enjoy the conversation of Mr. Bennet and Elizabeth.
"Lizzy," Mr. Bennet said as they were rising, "go to my library and retrieve my copy of Augustine. When the gentlemen return to the parlor, you may prove Mr. Darcy wrong from the source!"
Elizabeth smiled first at her father and then Darcy. "My pleasure!"
The gentlemen remained in the dining room drinking their port and smoking cigars. They had been speaking of the war when Bingley and Mr. Hurst began discussing a trading venture they took part in. Mr. Bennet leaned forward to Darcy. "Now that I think about it, I believe the book is on the highest shelf and Lizzy may need help reaching it. I would go myself, but I perceive you already know of my handicap. What set you off?"
"I did not go away to school. I saw my tutor's eyesight diminish. After completing Cambridge, before taking over my estate duties, I spent a long holiday with my tutor, by then retired. He could no longer read the words, but he still argued with me profusely on all things philosophical."
"Indeed!"
"I will go retrieve the book, sir, and we can finish our discussion in the parlor."
Mr. Bennet gave Darcy a smile that reached his eyes. He left for the library and found it still nearly dark. A small lamp was lit, and Elizabeth held a candle in her hand as she precariously stood on an ancient stool. He approached her.
"May I be of assistance?"
He had not meant to startle her, and she nearly toppled from her perch. His hands steadied her hips.
"Mr. Darcy! Did you mean to scare me?" She asked with her heart still racing and short of breath.
"Do I frighten you?" At her current level, he only leaned forward a bit to speak in her ear.
She turned her head a little, in an attempt to look at him. His eyes darted to her throat, desiring to taste it.
"Why should I be frightened of a strange gentleman approaching me in the dark in my father's house?" She nearly added that he should be afraid of her if he knew her mother. She would construe this position as a reason for marriage, and the whole thing would be tied up in a fortnight.
"So, I have returned to a gentleman?" Darcy's hands still held her hips and although he told his body to step back, it had not obeyed. Now his hands squeezed them, just a bit.
Elizabeth's breath hitched. She ought to tell him to release her, but his touch brought tingles all over her body. Still, she could tease. "I thought you quit the field admirably the other night."
"If you recall, I could not answer before the meal finished."
"So the mighty Mr. Darcy, who can reply quickly in the bustle of an assembly, requires additional time to think clearly at a dinner?"
Leaning in closer, his breath tickled her ear. "Perhaps the company contributed to my inability to think clearly."
Elizabeth stiffened. Of course, the behavior of her family affronted him. "Why are you here, Mr. Darcy?" She coldly asked.
Confused by her tone, he stepped back and released her hips at last. "Your father suggest I help find the book as it may be too high for you to reach. May I?" He held out his hand for her to grasp. His body already anticipated the touch of her skin.
"Thank you," she muttered before lightly putting her small hand in his. She was fast becoming addicted to the sensation it evoked.
They stood still looking into each other's eyes for a moment. Elizabeth broke the spell. "I believe you will need the light." She handed the candle to him, allowing another graze of hands.
Mustering all of his strength, Darcy turned to look at the books. The frequent touches and flirting wore his patience thin. He desired so much more. Careful to never be in such a position with other ladies, he found he had little resistance to Elizabeth's charms. He knew his danger, but she challenged him, and he always rose to the occasion.
Finding the book, he turned to her. "Now, I believe your father has ordered a debate." Elizabeth beamed, and Darcy returned the smile.
Later, as the guests took their leave, Darcy turned to Mr. Bennet. "You will understand me when I say I miss reading with my tutor. He insisted I practice my oral abilities."
Elizabeth raised her eyebrows, understanding immediately Mr. Darcy knew her father's secret and offered to read aloud to him.
"You are welcome any time you wish the company of an old man with too many books, sir," Mr. Bennet replied.
"It will be an honor." Darcy met Elizabeth's eyes and smiled.
As she looked into his soft brown eyes, she saw the usual burn replaced by something else: a kind gentleness. Her attraction to him always made her heart race, now she felt a slow burn build within. He was a man worthy of her esteem.
Thanks for reading!
