She could not imagine a room more suited to happiness than the library at Pemberley. Chairs situated apart to discourage conversation, a roaring fire, tables to write letters or study, and shelves upon shelves of books. Books of such a variety that Elizabeth could not fathom how they all fit in one room. Egyptology, the writings of Socrates, poems of Lord Byron, plays of Shakespeare. She could read for years, a decade and still not have opened the cover of even one-sixteenth of the knowledge stored therein.
"How were these books acquired? They are of such eclectic taste." Elizabeth felt him move closer.
"The library began with the first Darcy at Pemberley. It has been a duty and honor for each thereafter to contribute."
She turned to see him a few feet from her, clasping his hands behind his back. "And which subjects did you contribute?"
He looked to the side. "My latest contribution was a book of poems by the second Earl of Rochester."
Elizabeth stared. She had expected a treatise on the husbandry of animals, or land management, but poetry? "Do you enjoy poetry?"
Mr. Darcy looked back to study her, his eyes intense. She swallowed as he continued to stare, her heart beating faster.
As she had just opened her mouth to ask why he was behaving so, he moved towards her. Then he pulled a thin book off a shelf and held it out to her. "I found this inspiring yet frustrating. Here is my copy if you would like to read it."
A slight smirk on his visage gave Elizabeth pause. Was he taunting her, daring her to read the book? Why should she not read a book of poetry? "Thank you. I have enjoyed Lord Byron's poems and I will probably enjoy these as well."
Mr. Darcy rose an eyebrow. "You did? I had once heard you mention that one good sonnet would starve any love."
Elizabeth accepted the book, astonished that he had remembered what she had said at Netherfield. "Not any love, just a slight inclination of love. I believe I am in no danger, especially as I do not know the second Earl of Rochester and he did not write these poems for me."
She turned her eyes from the thin book to Mr. Darcy's visage. The intensity of his gaze was such that she stepped back, bumping into a chair.
"I imagine if he had ever met you, Miss Bennet, he would have dedicated this book of poetry to you."
She swallowed, aware that he was standing too close and that they had no chaperone. Nor had they during the entire tour of his house. Elizabeth moved away and walked to a shelf several feet away.
She knew he was proper, strict about following society's rules, so she could not fathom it had slipped his mind to have a chaperone. Why they had even dined without a chaperone. She could not remember a footman standing in the dining room. Elizabeth clenched her fists, then remembered she was holding the poetry book. She looked at the title to distract herself from disappointment and burgeoning despair.
The Works of the Right Honourable John, Earl of Rochester. She opened the book at random and began to read.
Thy nobler Part, which but to name,
In our Sex wou'd be counted Shame,
By Ages frozen grasp possess'd
From their Ice shall be releas'd:
And, sooth'd by my reviving Hand,
In former Warmth and Vigour stand.
Elizabeth gasped and closed the book. Then she checked the title again and opened it to the front. No, a book of lurid prose had not been accidentally placed inside this book. The Earl of Rochester had actually penned this. She turned around and held the book out to Mr. Darcy, stretching her arm as far as it would reach. "I believe this book has ended up in your library by accident."
She could not understand why his smirk grew.
He made no move to retrieve the offending book from her outstretched hand. "It was no accident."
She gasped and slowly lowered her arm. "How dare you, sir! I am no lightskirt or demimonde that would find this disgusting work amusing." She tossed the book on the nearest chair. "I will be leaving in the morning."
Never had she been so angry and yet with such disappointment and sadness.
"Where will you go? Your reputation is ruined."
Elizabeth stopped, then continued towards the library door. "It is of no concern of yours."
"You will ruin the reputation of your relatives in London? The ones with several children that have employed your older sister as a governess?"
She paused again. He was correct in his supposition, as she had come to that conclusion already. But just a sen'night or two until she found employment would not hurt the Gardiner's reputation.
"Where will you find employment? Your hands are still raw and you are far too thin to have lately been living the life of the genteel poor."
Elizabeth looked down at her hands clenching her dress. The truth of her situation stated so boldly by Mr. Darcy stung like a bee.
"How many travelers visited that inn since you were there? Your manners and speech gave you away that you were of a higher station than the usual maid. Your beauty would have imprinted itself in any man's mind."
She continued to look down, not seeing the Persian rug on the floor but instead seeing the many men that had looked at her the way Mr. Darcy did now.
"What will you wear?" His breath caressed the back of her neck, sending shivers through her body.
She had not even noticed him walking closer.
"How will you travel to London and to your relatives?"
She swallowed and turned to face him while stepping back to put distance between their bodies. "I am sure my uncle will be able to remunerate you for the cost of my wardrobe and travel by post." Elizabeth raised her chin. "If you as a gentleman demand payment for helping the daughter of a gentleman."
"You will travel on the post, with those that have no means for a private carriage, in that dress?"
She flushed and narrowed her eyes. "A wrap would be sufficient."
"To hide the quality of the fabric, of the modiste that created it? Your fellow passengers would wonder at your employment with such fine dresses but no funds for a carriage."
Elizabeth flushed and yet also felt faint. How dare he? She stepped back but could go no further for she was at the library door.
Mr. Darcy followed her.
If she were to turn and open the door, she would have to push him away first, a feat that would most likely not occur. She stared at him as she spread her hands against the solid wood behind her. "Why do you torment me?"
"I want to help you. You do not deserve to be destitute, trapped in a seedy brothel, and deceased in a few years."
Elizabeth faced him straight on, though his words were farcical and he was behaving worse than he ever had in Meryton. "What help do you offer?"
Mr. Darcy did not answer but continued to stare intensely.
She licked her lips and stilled as she heard a sound emanate from him. Her mouth dropped open at the heat in his eyes.
"I want you to be my mistress."
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.