I apologize for the long wait. If you follow me on a03, you'll have noticed I've been much more active there. Posting on this site, for lack of better words, is an absolute pain in my ass. Posting and editing on a03 is much much easier - if you've left me a kind comment or message about a misspelling or editing issue, I do appreciate it, but the documents on this profile no long exist, so if I want to edit it would mean retyping the entire chapter. I am simply unwilling to do that. That being said, I'll try to catch up here as much as I can, but if you wish to be fully caught up, I would suggest taking a trip over to that neck of the woods.
Please note the rating change! Nothing too explicit yet, but I have plans, my friends.
He had not rode more than a mile when he saw a figure atop the hill ahead. They were stalking quite vigorously away from the road. He recognized the stride and the familiar autumn spencer, the same color as the changed oak leaves. She was headed toward Netherfield, and every few moments she thrust her hands down in obvious frustration. With a kick to his horse, he was after her. She startled to hear horse hooves draw quickly near, but did not turn to look at him. She kept her determined and unyielding pace. Once he had swung down from his horse, he exercised his long stride to meet her.
"I need a moment, Fitzwilliam," she spoke sternly as he came to her side, "I am much too agitated at present to say anything of sense." And so he walked on with her silently, leading his horse by the reigns. She kept her eyes forward, but his gaze was trained on her face. There was always something he missed, something he hadn't seen before, and the discoveries were endless. Had he known her better when they were first acquainted, he would have known how clearly written in her expressions were her true emotions. He fancied that even if she wanted to lie to him, he would be able to discern any falsehood by the way she tightened her gaze in consternation, distress hidden in her brow.
Now, she scowled fiercely, that very brow knitted together and her lips pursed in an unforgiving frown. Darcy had seen something a kin to this look during their only dance together, and - the even less desirable recollection - his first proposal (he would never forget that look). Whatever it was that angered her must have been beyond diversion. He had left her the day before in high spirits and with promises to return on the morrow as he did every evening while stealing quick, quiet words of affection by the door before he departed. The longer she stewed in this agitation, the more his anxiety crept upon him. Her silence, though he knew he must allow her time, was beginning to make his skin crawl. He yeared to be in her confidence, to become so lost in companionship that she would not hesitate to run into his arms for comfort and support. More than anything, he wanted her to look at him so he could glean from those expressive eyes the depth of this anger.
Soon she slowed, moving closer to him, and erelong with a sigh she reached for his open arm. Darcy let out a breath as her arm curled around his, and he could see that her shoulders were not so tense as they had been a moment before. Her head fell to his shoulder and she began, "It is peculiar; I knew not that I had the power of summoning you." He saw her effort to give him some sort of an affectionate look. He could not help smiling. Hers was a valiant effort.
"How might I be of assistance, my love?" They halted, any semblance of a feeble smile gone from her face as she turned away.
"Oh, I could not ask of you what I wish you to do." She huffed heavily in frustration as she looked back toward Longbourn. "Seven days cannot pass quickly enough." He ran a finger affectionately along her cheek before taking her balled fist and gently pried it open. With a heavy sigh, she opened her palm.
"Tell me," he said. She still did not meet his eye and fixed her gaze somewhere off down the hill.
"It is as if she has learned nothing," Elizabeth grumbled dangerously and with such exasperation, his sympathy expanded tenfold. "To harass my father as she does, trying to persuade him to allow Lydia and that man to stay at Longbourn - of course he refuses every attempt - oh, then to pester Jane to accept them at Netherfield once she is married! She is always praising Lydia's marriage, conveniently omitting the manner in which it manifested!" She began a quick pace, breaking away from his arm. "And to think she had the presumption to insinuate - ugh, that she even thought to speak you name as she did! I could not stand to hear any more of it, I left my father with her after explicitly expressing my vexation."
"I do not understand," Darcy replied, quite puzzled. Elizabeth stopped and turned to face him. The exasperation returned, her features contorted into some kind of defeat.
"I do not wish to offend you or burden you with such trivial improprieties." He knew Mrs. Bennet (for it could be no one else whom Elizabeth could be referring to) would crow about her Lydia. There was no escaping the association, and he had long ago settled with that; but to his knowledge, Mrs. Bennet did not know of his involvement in bringing about the marriage. Why his name should have been mentioned in regards to the matter, he knew not. It was clear that whatever had passed between Elizabeth and her mother was most assuredly not 'trivial'.
"And I shall insist you explain," he said, reaching to lift her chin with a gentle finger. Surely she knew him well enough after weeks of familiarity that he wished to look her in the eye to truly understand her. "You could not burden me with anything. You must know I would have you always confide in me as I know you would wish me to confide in you. Please, tell me what pains you, Lizzy." There was a twitch of her lips before she gave him a small smile and she reached out to affectionately adjust his hat.
"Truly, I do not wish to say any of the particulars. My mother disrespected your name abominably and tried to make ridiculous comparisons regarding you and... well, that is all that matters." Her expression turned cloudy once more, but before she could turn away, he pulled her by the hand, insisting she remain in front of him. He didn't need to know what was said, her insinuations were sufficiently clear. Elizabeth's vexation was palpable enough and she was always one to find some diversion in the ridiculous. He ducked his head to meet her averted eye. How helpless he felt, wishing to take on the burden for her and soothe whatever ached, to eas the pain in the gaze she kept away from him. When she averted him further yet, he caught sight of her lip tucked under her teeth, her hands tightening in his.
"Elizabeth?" She gave an uneven sigh, betraying her emotions. He turned her face with gentle but firm insistence. He was startled to find tears in her eyes. She hurriedly swiped at them, shaking her head.
"Forgive me, it is silly, is is not so bad as this," Elizabeth said with failed assurance.
"No, of course -"
"It was not so different from anything I have heard before. I do not know why..." Darcy waited for her to meet his eye again and when she did, tears overflowing and cheeks bright pink, he tried to give her the most encouraging smile he could muster.
Elizabeth looked back at him so fiercely, he felt again the power she held over him as acutely as ever. She had once told him how his looks had disarmed her from their first acquaintance, and with the engagement, she admitted it had begun to thrill her when they were together at Pemberley. He thought that the thrill she felt must pale to the raging exhilaration that overwhelmed him to look in her eyes then, the pain and tears giving way to clear-eyed unbridled determination. She had found a way to see into him, to recognize that which precious few could, and in her eyes he saw her sentiments and felt her proclamation before she spoke.
"I will not allow anyone to speak wrongly of you, Fitzwilliam, and most assuredly not in any context that involves Wickham." The name was uttered with venom, but she touched his cheek with such deliberation that spoke of her protection, her promise that she had so reverently given him. Her hand wandered to the sweel of his chest where under cloth, skin and bone, his heart beat as if to reach her palm. He lowered his head until his brow rested upon hers, his hands moving to encompass her waist.
"My fierce love," he whispered, and his lips brushed softly against hers. In a breath, she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him to her, deepening their kiss as her lips parted. He fell into sensation, into pure want and desire to give, to share, to please. It felt so good, too good to press her wholly to him, his arms wrapped entirely around her as she stood on her toes. The taste of her, the soft warmth of her lips, the way she fit against him in his arms. She pressed herself to him as if they could get closer, that the embrace could only be the surface of what they could reach. She gasped between kisses, "One week and I will have you to myself." He smiled against her lips.
"Can you endure it, Lizzy?" He kissed across her cheek, grazing her ear with his lips. "Or will you continue to boldly bait me as your patience runs thin?"
"Oh, I will bait you regardless of the circumstances." Her mouth was on his again and he groaned softly to feel her tongue lining his bottom lip. He never thought he would be so lost in a woman as to allow such behavior to occur in the open, not far from the road where anyone could happen upon them. But he would not stop, could not stop for fear his heart would cease beating. It beat for her; for these moments alone together, for the feeling they shared and the home they found in each other's arms, for those teasing remarks that made him think of wicked, wicked things.
"I will have my vengeance, you know," he said in a low rough voice. He felt the exhale of her soft chuckle on the skin of his cheek.
"And here I thought you were a gentleman. I believe it is impolite to threaten your wife."
"Indeed, a gentleman does not threaten his wife, but he can and should retaliate against his wife who teases him at the most untimely moments. Particularly in a drawing room, nearly in the plain view of all company."
"I was sure to affirm we were not being watched."
"And surely, the two of us stationed at the pianoforte called for no on-lookers. What excuse would have given for your hand resting a little too high on my leg?"
"Well, a gentleman would always act to protect his wife from scandal." He barked out a laugh as he shook his head.
"Oh, I will enjoy exacting my revenge on you. Consider yourself warned, wife." She shivered, and her hands grasped at the lapels of his coat as he dipped his head to claim the delicate skin of her neck. Her choked whimper nearly sent him into delirium. Never had a sound been so delicious. He would coax that sound from her again and again to taste it on her lips, to devour it. Dear God, he was going to go mad with wanting. His thoughts were full of ways he would take her in that very spot, how the cold would nip at their skin and hers would blush all over. How he would haul her into his arms and prop her against a nearby tree to rock into her relentlessly. She would cry out his name, wrapping her legs around his waist as she begged him not to stop. And he wouldn't, not until he helped her reach her peak and he filled her -
Elizabeth suddenly broke away rom the kiss, her eyes going wide. It was so abrupt, as if the breath had been stollen away from him and every inch of him screamed to reclaim those drugging kisses. But she was opening her mouth as if to speak, then shutting it again, her face taking on that contemplating look of hers. He was breathing hard, his chest heaving against hers as he ground out, "Have I overstepped?"
"Lord, no," she said, voice unsteady. "I just..." Her eyes lowered and she was looking down between them. She was blushing from her hairline down into the neck of her spencer when she looked into his eyes again. "I did not expect to... feel that you want me." His brows knit together.
"Elizabeth, of course I want you, am I not -"
"No, no, forgive me, that is not what I meant," she assured him hastily. "I was... what I meant was... well, I had not expected to feel how much you want me." She looked pointedly down between them again and, heaven help him, her hips pressed against him. He had lost control. He had been so enraptured by her and gave himself to those moments of fantasy, the consequence of his desire was hard against her hip. Before he could make to move away, as if she knew how he would react, she kept her grip on the lapels of his coat and brought her lips to his ear. "I will not have you feel shame for this, Fitzwilliam. Am I not to be acquainted with as much of you as possible before you take me to your bed? That hardly seems fair." Her voice was the smoothest caress, so wicked he could have fallen to his knees and begged her to elope with him to end this torturous burning. Oh, she was going to be the absolute death of him. He wondered just how many of his inhibitions would evaporate when he did finally take her to his bed. He would hardly be his own person by then, so filled to the brim with anticipation that he would lose all sense as he had begun to moments before.
"Dear God, Lizzy," he rasped, his hands gripping the fabric of her dress, "a man can only endure so much. That I must wait seven abhorrent days..."
They felt the first patters of rain, the beginnings of an autumn shower. It was nature's gentle tap on the shoulder to bring them firmly back to the present. Darcy allowed them a long moment to rein themselves in before he reluctantly stepped away from her and reached to throw the reins of his horse over its neck.
"We are nearer Netherfield." He brought her to his horse's side and gestured as he said, "We can make it there before the rain begins in earnest and I shall have the carriage readied to bring you home. If you'll allow me..." With her nod, he firmly gripped her waist and he lifted her upon the saddle, swinging himself up behind her. He wrapped an arm securely around her and adjusted their seat. "Comfortable?" He asked soft and low in her ear. She inched closer, fitting herself perfectly between his legs.
"Oh, quite, Mr. Darcy," she gave him an arch smile.
"Good," he said as he tightened his hold and pulled her to him, "because the next time you with me like this, we will be in my favorite chair in my chamber." Her breath rushed from her as her head fell to his shoulder. He could not stop his incredibly satisfied grin as he kicked his horse into a trot.