Chapter 2

After playing some Italian songs, Miss Bingley varied the charm by a lively Scotch air; and soon afterwards Mr. Darcy, drawing near Elizabeth, said to her -

"Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?''

She smiled, but made no answer. He repeated the question, with some surprise at her silence.

"Oh!'' said she, "I heard you before; but I could not immediately determine what to say in reply. You wanted me, I know, to say "Yes," that you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kind of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I have therefore made up my mind to tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all - and now despise me if you dare.''

"Indeed I do not dare.''

Elizabeth, having rather expected to affront him, was amazed at his gallantry; but there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner which made it difficult for her to affront anybody; and Darcy had never been so bewitched by any woman as he was by her. He really believed, that were it not for the inferiority of her connections, he should be in some danger.

It was rather inconvenient to desire someone who so clearly disdained you.

After the party at the home of Sir William, Lizzy had decided to think no more of Mr. Darcy. By day, such a decision was possible to uphold, for she had much activity to occupy herself, and the gentleman in question revealed often how little he thought of her. He had already pronounced her neither handsome enough to tempt him, nor accomplished enough to admire. She wondered at his asking her, on more than one occasion, to dance, but concluded that he had noticed her admiration and wanted to mock her for it by offering her a temptation that he would never fulfill. Mr. Wickham's sad tale informed her conclusion that such cruelty was not outside his character.

Yet every night, alone on her bed, the memories of their dance and the desires he had conjured within her fiercely returned. She had learned to touch the places she felt him most keenly, breathlessly imagining his fingers in place of her own.

By day, such thoughts mortified her, and thus avoidance, refusal, and arguments became her modes for maintaining her distance from Mr. Darcy. During their recent stay at Netherfield, when she was unable to remain at Jane's bedside, she had chosen to read rather than join the others in a game of loo, return to the house rather than walk alongside him, and to criticize and contradict him at every turn in order to reduce his power over her. By the time Jane was well enough to return home, Elizabeth's efforts had achieved their aim, for Darcy scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.

She eagerly looked forward to the ball at Netherfield and the opportunity to dance with Mr. Wickham, for he was a man who, although not as handsome as Mr. Darcy, bested him in charm and good manners. Surely time well spent in Wickham's company would make her forget these infernal desires! Upon learning of his absence, she quelled her disappointment by making sport with Charlotte of her recently arrived and quite ridiculous cousin, Mr. Collins.

After two miserable dances with Mr. Collins, followed by two delightful ones with a charming officer, she found herself suddenly addressed by Mr. Darcy, who took her so much by surprise in his application for her hand, that, without knowing what she did, she accepted him. When the dancing recommenced, however, and Darcy approached to claim her hand, Charlotte could not help cautioning her, in a whisper, not to be a simpleton, and allow her fancy for Wickham to make her appear unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence.

How little Charlotte understood of the true reasons for her reluctance to dance with Darcy! Elizabeth knew that she would be unable to maintain her hard-won equanimity in Darcy's presence once he trained his beautiful eyes and disarming smile in her direction once more.

And truly it was so! With the beguiling gentleman peering intently at her, the other guests vanished, and only he remained. Both partners seemed content to not speak, communicating through looks and touches the passion they felt within. For in this moment, how could Elizabeth doubt that Mr. Darcy was as captivated as she was? Indeed, when next he touched her hand, he did not release it. Instead, he pulled her away from the rest of the dancers.

Entranced, bewitched, and thoughtless of appearances, she accompanied him as he led her from the ballroom, down the corridor, and into Mr. Bingley's study. Did she really hear him exhale her name as she closed her eyes, waiting, waiting?

His lips, soft and warm, touched her own, and his hands caressed her face and hair. In response her own lips opened, and she sighed as their kiss became much sweeter and more enticing than she had ever imagined a kiss could be. Warmth flooded her, and she pressed herself against him, knowing instinctively that she needed to feel his hardness everywhere, his firm chest against her tender breasts and especially his maleness in the burning, quivering spot between her thighs. Darcy moaned as his lips trailed from her mouth down her neck, nuzzling her delicate skin, suckling her décolletage, increasing her aching desire for him.

They moved as one against a wall, her gowns lifting in his expert hands, and her dreams coming to life as he began to stroke her with his lovely, long fingers. "Ohhhh," she gasped, quivering under his magical touch. She felt his fingers inside her, filling her, warm and burning and enchanting. His hand moved faster, his caresses firmer, until she could barely breathe, until she was filled with such heat and shimmering bliss she had to grip his shirt to keep from falling.

Darcy embraced her and gently kissed her lips. "Loveliest Elizabeth," he murmured.

As her trembling faded to a gentle pulse, she opened her eyes to see this man, this man she wanted to hate but knew she had come to love, staring back at her with such tenderness she wanted to cry. "What shall we do now?" she asked, somewhat afraid of his answer. For now she was not only not handsome and not accomplished in his eyes, but also wanton and corrupt.

Darcy smiled. "We have no choice. I have thoroughly compromised you."

"Not quite," she replied.

He chuckled. "No, not quite." He gently stroked her cheek. "Soon, when you are my wife, I promise to finish what we have started."

"Please don't…" she hesitated. But she had to know, so she continued. "Please do not marry someone you despise out of obligation."

"Despise you? Elizabeth, I love you! I have dreamt of you since the night we first danced together."

"So have I. So why then did you argue with me, and ignore me?"

"Why did you?"

"I was afraid of what I felt. What you made me feel."

"So was I," he admitted. "But I am not afraid any longer. You have awakened in me a love I never imagined I could feel. My deepest desire, dearest Elizabeth, is to make you my wife. But I am loathe to have you marry me out of obligation either. Please say yes only if you feel as I do."

And of course, Elizabeth smiled and said yes, for she, too, was now fully awake.

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