His eyes would not obey his order as he stared at her bosom. Clearing his throat, he turned away with difficulty and led her through the dining room doorway into the foyer. Mr. Darcy could not remember anything of what he said. He could be brought up in front of Napoleon himself with a musket to his head and he still would not be able to recall what he had said in the past half an hour. Elizabeth had not complained so he must have been coherent but she did not have the personality to complain. Witty and cutting remarks were more her style.
Mr. Darcy glanced at Elizabeth, his gaze caught this time by her long neck as she looked up at the painting on the ceiling of the drawing-room. He longed to run his fingers down her neck to her breasts on display in that scandalous dress. Mrs. Reynolds had nearly fainted at his request for the type of dress to order for Elizabeth. It was the latest French style of a low bodice which showed the absurdity of fashion. The English were at war with the French and yet the English fashion houses featured the latest French style of dress. It was an insult to their English sons fighting the diminutive dictator, but Mr. Darcy had not been able to stop himself from requesting the quite low bodice of the French fashion.
Elizabeth's hand covered her breasts on display which forced him to avert his eyes. He escorted her to the next room which happened to be the stag parlor. Then the gallery which he walked through quickly as he was embarrassed by his large portrait upon the wall. He did not want to see her thoughts regarding his high opinion of himself, displayed on her countenance. Mr. Darcy longed to tell her that it was tradition, a practice of every eldest Darcy since they first occupied Pemberley. But he said nothing out loud, only to himself about being a coward.
The next room of the tour was the library, his favorite room. By the gasp he heard, it was Elizabeth's as well. Mr. Darcy set the heavy silver candelabra on one of the writing tables then watched her wander among the shelves, running her fingers over the spines of the books. She would stop and murmur at one that caught her interest then move to the next shelf. He wondered what she would do when she saw the ladder. Would she climb it to inspect the books on the higher shelves?
Elizabeth crossed in front of the fireplace causing Mr. Darcy's harsh disappointment. He had expected the firelight to expose her figure but the fabric of her dress was too thick. He turned away to the table that displayed his fine French brandy. It was smooth and far superior to any brandy produced in England. He had the cook's nephew to thank for it. It was the Cook's brother who smuggled the brandy to England, then the Cook's nephew delivered it to Pemberley. He swallowed another finger, emptying the glass.
He held the glass, rolling it between his thumb and fingers, while he watched the beauty that had tormented his thoughts. Finally, she was here in Derbyshire, looking just as beautiful and perfectly at home as he had expected when he had first proposed to her. Sour flooded his stomach so he directed his thoughts back to the present.
What could he do with her? Mrs. Reynolds knew Elizabeth's condition when she had arrived. The housekeeper would keep his secrets, but she would also share her opinion like a close aunt when she needed to. Which had not been for a very long time.
Mr. Darcy thought of Elizabeth leaving, traveling to relatives in London, and his chest tightened. He thought of her spurned from her relative's house, left to fend for herself and Mr. Darcy set his glass on the table before he cracked it. His ire was directed at her situation, the cruelty of society for if she gained respectable employment but her employers learned she had worked unchaperoned at a poor inn, she would be thrown out on the streets.
An intelligent, witty, and beautiful woman who now could only hope for a laborer as a husband. It was society's rule, a society they both belonged to. The question now, was would anyone recognize her from that inn? She no longer resembled a starved ragamuffin. If she were to arrive at her relatives in London, would they allow her to live with them? Could she find employment as a governess or a lady's companion? And now he was back at the thought that had scared and angered him earlier. But instead of the employer throwing her out on the street, what if the lord of the house blackmailed her, forced her favors to be shared instead of publicly ruin her reputation?
He clenched his fist, glared at the crackling fire. That would never happen. He was not willing to risk her reputation, but he was willing to risk his.
Had to take it down as I published it on Amazon. All parts are in one book in Kindle Unlimited on Amazon now! It's Mr. Darcy's Pursuit of Elizabeth Bennet by Demi Monde.