Chapter 38

Elizabeth, in her shock, did not react to Darcy's quiet proclamation other than her ever-speaking eyes widened. Darcy grinned as he turned away to take his leave. She was rooted to the spot, and it took her a while to move. Her steps took her to the very book. As she sat, she tightened and caressed the new shawl around her, and she would not let the book out of her sight, out of her hand. In her distraction, she hardly heard her family rejoice anew at the myriad of gifts they had received. As she looked around, she could not believe that he went to all that trouble and expense. Even if most were bought by Georgiana – as they now called each other by their Christian name – they must have talked about it, specifically, each member of her family. They managed to give the perfect gift to everyone. In her heart, she knew it was all for her. The fact that he went to all this trouble to impress her family showed his respect. She craved to not only be loved but respected as well.

Mr. and Mrs. Bennet discussed the two young men when they retired. They decided to give them some time to go to Mr. Bennet, but not long. They had shown particular preferences and these gifts were because of Mr. Darcy's interest in their Lizzy. Definitely more than a normal acquaintance connection would require. Mrs. Bennet was extremely happy for her second daughter.

'I did not dare give much hope to Lizzy when I had to console her, but I hoped Mr. Darcy would not be able to stay away. She is so… unique.'

'That she is.' Mr. Bennet said with a sigh.

'It only took a month. Young love. He went against all that he had been taught. We have to give him that.'

'You are right, my dear. Men like Mr. Darcy marry heiresses. He did not even know of her real dowry. Not that it would make any difference to him financially, but still. He has come back thinking she had maybe a thousand to her name. There is a lot to this gentleman. I quite like him. He has integrity.'

'And he is very handsome.' Her husband raised his eyebrows.

'Is he? I have not noticed.' He said nonchalantly.

'Well, take it from a woman. He is extremely handsome.' He cleared his voice.

'You are not jealous of a young man, are you, Mr. Bennet?' She asked giggling.

'No, but it would help if you said that your husband is the most handsome of all.' Now she openly laughed.

'Oh, Thomas. Do not be silly. I have to say though that you were a handsome man. I liked your glasses.'

'Did you now?'

'Oh, yes, I imagined you sleeping in them.'

'You imagined me sleeping?'

'Aye, I imagined even more…'

Sweet is what is forbidden. Elizabeth's hands shook as she climbed into bed and took her new book with her. She even tiptoed on the way to the bed to not make a noise. She made herself comfortable in her bed. Tonight she said goodnight to Jane without going into her room.

It was a handsome volume in leather bound. She loved the smell of it. She kissed the book's cover and with held breath, she opened it at the back. She could see an extra sheet stuck to the back. She peeled back the thick paper carefully, and a letter folded in four fell out. Even if she expected it, it still surprised her. She looked around. Her first secret letter. A love letter? She let out her breath. She smelt it; it had a paper smell – she did not know what she was expecting. She cherished the letter by stroking its seal, a simple FD. The letters were elegant and ornate, but just right, very Mr. Darcy. For a moment she imagined ED in the same style, adding a bottom line to the F. Her hands trembling, she slowly opened the letter and started to read.

Her eyes drank in the written words, his words. His writing, like him, was handsome, neat, and tidy. His letters, especially his capital letters, were elegantly exaggerated. As she read, her eyes widened more and more. When she finished, she paused, then lowered the letter… and started to smile, then chuckle, and finally she laughed merrily. She laughed so loud that she had to turn into her pillow so that the noise of it did not alarm the house.

...

24. December 1811

Cornfields of Pemberley

The cornfields surrounding Pemberley

Attract the sun with grace,

I view them along with fleeting

Thoughts of beauty and of peace.

A satisfying constant in my life,

Now full of joy,

A step away from Paradise

For once a simple boy.

Now this joy and contentment combined

Is a true love derived

From meeting You

Spells happiness unheard of

Except for a special few.

Dear Miss Elizabeth,

You do realize that if you do not run away from me after reading my humble offering,
I will know that you have strong feelings for me.

Yours if you accept me,

Fitzwilliam Darcy

...

She laughed and laughed; she could not stop. Her side started to hurt in her merriment. She took deep breaths to calm herself.

He wrote a poem to her.

Mr. Darcy, the haughty gentleman with ten thousand and probably more and a huge estate in the north, wrote a poem to her.

He remembered their silly talk at Netherfield when she was being impertinent and did not want to agree with him to see what he would say. She regretted her argument as soon as she had said it.

He wrote a poem to her.

She could not believe it. She did not care about its quality. It was from him to her. She would save it till she had breath. She read it again and again. She could not stop smiling as she mouthed the words. It was not half so bad if a little corny. It was hers. Her first love poem; she hoped the future held many more. From him. She started to chuckle again.

He wrote that he would be hers if she wanted. She caressed the line with her fingers. Did she want him? What a silly question! She wanted him like sunshine. No life would be possible without it. She felt, now that she knew him and that he had come back, she would wilt without him. Her feelings at this moment were so full of love… Love. Love! I am… in love with him. Oh, my, I am in love! I am in love with the most wonderful, and handsome, man!, she added. She sat up on her knees in her realization. I am in love with Fitzwilliam Darcy! She wanted to scream. She then fell back on her pillows but misjudged the distance in her distraction and hit her head on the headboard.

'Auch!' Silly me. Auch. I do not care. Auch. I am the happiest woman in England, no, in the world!

She closed her eyes and tried to recall what it was like to be in his arms. She shivered as she recalled the memory. How he softly held her head, how his thumb stroked her throat. She touched the place. She had no idea kissing someone could be so powerful. She had kissed relatives before without any extra sensation. This, however, made her tremble, her legs hardly kept her up, so much so that Mr. Darcy had to support her. And when he finally kissed her, her stomach was in her throat, her heart beat so loud in her ears, she was sure he could hear it. Would love make all the difference? She closed her eyes again and imagined him kissing her. It had been the most exquisite feeling. His lips were surprisingly soft to the touch but still made her lips move. Fitzwilliam Darcy had kissed her in front of her whole extended family! Oh, who minds! I was kissed! She would have to thank Lydia. She knew she wanted to embarrass her, but what her sister did not know was that it was worth all the embarrassment she could throw her way.

She had a smile on her face as sleep finally claimed her.

Some miles away someone could not sleep for an entirely different reason. His pour excuse of a bed was nothing more than a bunk bed. Its flexibility came from the fact that it was simply a thick cloth fastened around its frame. Always cold. For a pillow, he had a bag of clothes under his head and on him was a meagre blanket that made one's skin itch. He was cold. He was miserly. Christmas. He thought about it bitterly. How did he end up like this when he was used to the finer things in life? He recalled Christmases past with his small family. He hushed the thought away.

This was not life he thought. He had regretted ever meeting Danny again. What a joke! He should have pressed Darcy more for some money for his silence about his almost success with his sister. He imagined Darcy in his comfortable warm bed in his warm room. One did not even have privacy here when nature called. He hated his lot. He hated Fitzwilliam Darcy even more. What the hell was he doing back in this backwater of a place? Was it a friendly visit or did he come back because of that chit?