Chapter 9 - distance / dancing

Elizabeth knew that William had been intentionally ignoring her, given the next time that she saw him was late Friday morning. He arrived early to pick her and her sister up from Charlotte's, where the bridal party had been getting ready together, to drive to the venue.

His careful composure faltered momentarily when he saw her for the first time in her wedding finery.

Charlotte had strongarmed one of her friends into making over all of her bridesmaids, and it showed. Lizzy's features were accentuated but not spoiled by a well-executed painting of natural make-up. He thought privately that her dress must have had some kind of built-in bodice - if the way it lifted her chest and hugged her waist were anything to go by - and he admired the shapely leg which escaped a long slit up to her thigh. Her hair was styled elegantly, with a few curled flyaways framing her beautiful face, the rest pinned up with an arrangement of pearls which contrasted beautifully against her dark curls.

He had previously struggled to keep himself in check around her perfectly tailored suits and formal dresses, but her adherence to traditional proprietary standards in the office had meant that he seldom saw her so exposed to him. This dress, though. Damn if it wasn't revealing. Seeing her like this, finally outside of the confines of Pemberley Digital and semi-bared to him, he was intoxicated. She was intoxicating.

"Lizzy, you look-" he trailed off, unsure of himself.

"Beautiful," Jane finished for him, pinning a pearl back in place where it had fallen as she sensed her sister's discomfort at his open admiration. Charles smiled good naturedly and commented idly on the excellent choice of dresses for the bridal party.

William echoed Jane's sentiments with his expression, and Elizabeth smiled quietly back at him. He loathed that this is what they had been reduced to, tight smiles and unbearable distance.

He fought to regain his composure, certain they had all noticed his wandering gaze but also sure that he could play it off as pretending for Jane and Charles, who entered the car first. He was dismayed when they climbed into the back and a cold distance fell heavy on the empty middle seat between them.

When they arrived at the venue, he was sad but relieved to part ways and find a seat with Charles at the back. The deliberate distance was easier to stomach than the tantalising closeness of the car ride.

For all of William's discomfort, the ceremony passed uneventfully, with both men admiring from afar. The car ride to the hotel for the reception was equally painful as the last, but it too passed eventually. William thanked his good-natured driver and informed him of his anticipated solo departure much later in the evening.

Thankfully, there was no real requirement for them to actively participate until they joined the Bennet table for the dinner. William, true to his word, played the part of 'new boyfriend' extremely well. He tempered his displays of affection, but not so much that people would see through their ruse. Given they had refrained from any physical intimacy, especially since the added complication of her working with Pemberley, he tried to not react overenthusiastically to any touch she permitted now.

He was largely successful in his endeavour, at least externally. So what if his heart lurched every time she looked at him. As long as he tempered his blushes, they were in the clear. Jane and Charles - with their month-long budding relationship - were willing to shoulder most of the attention from her parents in any case.

~.~

When the time came for dancing, the cracks in his resolve started to show.

"Dance with me," she had asked in a low voice after they were a few rounds of champagne past the dessert course, and conversation had been dropped in favour of the newly-cleared dance floor. He heard the hint of a promise in her tone, and tried futilely to not get his hopes up.

"Gladly, my love," he said in front of her family, sadness colouring his surface pleasure at accepting her with the realisation that he could not call her that in truth. He nodded in feigned chivalry, offering her his arm. She blushed to hear the endearment, and shared a broad and genuine smile with him. She reached for his arm and pulled him towards her as they made for the floor. He did not know if it was the champagne or the general good humour of the night, but he was glad to see her back with him, over the horrible distant clone of the past week.

It was some Radio 1 pop number that blared through the speakers when she pulled him onto the floor. Her hand burned in his again, as he allowed himself to relish the joy of her touch. He could tell she was leaning on her experience at the zumba classes and from regular pole dancing at home. And he was thrilled to be her own personal pole on the dance floor. Despite his experience in the wider field, he was not completely comfortable with this style of dancing. She laughed breathlessly as he tried to keep up with her energetic moves.

"This is fun," she breathed into his ear. She had leaned over his shoulder to make sure that he heard her, and he felt the gentle press of her chest against his arm where she had overbalanced slightly from the alcohol. He placed a steadying hand at the small of her back to prevent her from toppling, and she leaned imperceptibly towards her touch. He swayed slightly, but whether it was from the alcohol or the thrum of the music, he could not tell.

"Are you having a good time?" She shouted when he didn't reply.

"Yes," he said, elaborating the half truth. "Yes, I am glad we are doing this."

"Yeah I guess it has been quite serious recently, hasn't it?"

He arched his brow as if to say are we doing this, here?

"I didn't mean to make you sad," she said, halting her dancing to take a step to him.

"It's ok," he replied, though his heart told him it was not. She wobbled another step towards him, eyeing him carefully as she did so, and placed her hands on his shoulders. It was almost as if she was hearing a different song to the loud, bass-heavy piece that was playing. Like she was inviting him in for a slow dance over a gently savoured bottle of Merlot with one of his soft jazz records playing in the background. He could see the picture she painted with her unassuming actions, he could see it clear as day. God, he wanted it.

"What if we… that is…" why was it so hard to say what she wanted?

He waited patiently, not wanting to interrupt her endearing inability to form a sentence. He did not think her that drunk, but perhaps she was.

"I mean-" she continued. She stopped herself just short, her nerves choking her. In spite of her trepidation, she wanted to tell him how nice it had been to have him by her side for the evening. Despite having thought about him near constantly for the past six weeks, she hadn't anticipated how much she would love showing him off to her family and friends. And fuck, her heart had fluttered when he had undressed her with his eyes during the car ride over. She was only human.

She guessed she shouldn't have been surprised to find how much she enjoyed his public displays of fake affection, given how much she had enjoyed their private friendship. And sure, she was drunk, but she felt the sober thoughts she had been harbouring for a few weeks now bubbling on the tip of her intoxicated tongue.

In that moment, she was certain she had held good reasons for why this couldn't happen, and she knew vaguely that there was a lot at stake. But she still hadn't forgiven herself for the way he had appeared so dejected last Thursday at lunch. If there was anything she could do to stop him feeling that way again, she knew in that instant that she would do it.

Sod it, she thought.

"I want to kiss you," she said simply. And at his dumbfounded expression, she clarified. "Now."

He could see her considering his face with such laser focus and his heart was in his throat. He wanted to lean into her words, but he felt obliged to remind her of the stance she had repeatedly taken when she had been sober. He couldn't live with himself if she came to regret him.

"We don't need to, it's not part of the pretending," he reassured her, protecting himself.

He couldn't breathe with the anticipation and the terror that her next words would bring.

"Fuck pretending," she all but breathed, closing the space between them and pulling his face down to hers. He waited on the precipice, trying to capture the moment in his memory. He felt her lips brushing feather light against his as she finished her sentence. "I don't want to pretend any more."

Hungrily, and yet with infinite care, she captured his open lips with her own. She felt his hands, urgent at her waist, pulling her even closer until there was no space between them. She moaned into him and he felt the vibration of the sound against his lips. Encouraged, he palmed her soft curves under his hands. He could not hold back, moving one hand up to her neck and halting just shy of disturbing her carefully arranged curls. She had no such reverence for his carefully styled hair, tugging at it in a way that threatened to undo him.

He vaguely noticed the song change into a slower number. Perfect, he thought, no one will notice if we just carry on-

Elizabeth chose that moment to lick his bottom lip in a manner that demanded he deepen the kiss, and all of a sudden he wasn't thinking about the music any more. He was lost in the joy of feeling her, breathing her in. It was quite unlike anything he had ever experienced.

They only broke apart when the song changed once more, and even then they smiled nervously as she remained in the safe circle of his arms.

She smiled affectionately at him and shouted over the loud music.

"You suit my lipstick, Will."

"It's my new favourite makeup," he shouted, equally loudly. His good-natured response caused a humming under her skin that she recognized as liquid happiness.

"So you're not mad?"

"Lizzy, why on Earth would I be mad after something as exquisite as that?"

"I don't know, I kinda jumped you there," her voice was quieter now. "And I don't want you to regret-" she trailed off, seeming genuinely apologetic. He couldn't bear it. He eyed her for a split second before pulling her face to his and kissing her passionately.

"There we go," he shouted when they pulled apart. "Now we're even, and I am not in the least bit mad about any of it."

She laughed at his high-handedness - this marvellously playful man who still took her infinitely seriously. She couldn't contain it.

"I think I am falling in love with you," she said quietly, and he was grateful for the disco lights which allowed him to lipread. He would not have missed her gentle confession for the world.

"Surely you must know, Lizzy - there is no 'think' about it." He paused, to make sure she was watching him.

"I love you," he said softly.

Her whole face lit up with the knowledge that despite her best efforts to push him away, she had been unsuccessful - and now here he was, telling her that he loved her. And it was so genuine and unpretentious, and she wanted to kiss him.

And she did. Several times.

~.~

"This is fun," he echoed her earlier words, when they had all congregated outside some time later to watch the fireworks that signalled the departure of the brides.

"Yeah, I always loved fireworks," her eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning at the promise of incendiary entertainment. He had procured a sparkler each from one of the waiters and handed them to Jane and Charlie, saving Elizabeth until last.

"She used to try to sneak past Dad to see if she could light them, little pyromaniac," her sister laughed. It felt so good to join in again, sharing the easy camaraderie he had settled into before it had all got complicated.

"Should I be concerned?" He asked good-naturedly.

"Oh she's not so fiery any more," Jane gave her sister a teasing look.

"No, no-" Lizzy pleaded, but her drunk sister did not heed her.

"Well, at least not in that way," she said suggestively.

"That's it, I might as well combust," she said, head in hands. William waited until her sister and her beau were busy lighting their sparklers before he gently prised her hand from her face.

"Have you considered that I might like fiery?" He said. She felt like his tone had dropped a whole octave, and it was so intense that she was sure he would hear her heart stutter.

"Fuck," the expletive was back, though hungrier this time. "In that case-" there was fire dancing in her eyes, and he was feeling far too hot to be appropriate standing so close to her family.

He had been cautious for so long, and it had not gotten him anywhere. So he decided to throw caution to the wind and kiss the smug look off of her face.

He was aware of Charles and Jane whooping in the distance, so he kept the kiss fairly chaste, his expression contrite when he opened his eyes and pulled away.

"Sorry," the knee jerk reaction was back.

"Nothing to be sorry for, Will," she reassured him, placing a gentle peck to the corner of his mouth. "I like kissing you. Even when it's in retaliation. Perhaps especially then."

She paused, considering her previous statement. "And besides, I love you."

"In that case-" he echoed, heart soaring. He kissed her soundly again. They broke apart soon after coming together, when the countdown for the fireworks began.

He only half-watched the display, for he had seen many before in his lifetime and was not particularly enamoured by them. Besides, there was only one Elizabeth Bennet, and he had not even come close to his fill of watching her. He savoured her excited reactions to each successive round of pyrotechnics, heart thudding merrily in his chest whenever she turned to him to express her heartfelt delight at the lights and colours. So beautiful, he thought. Thank goodness I came.

He had considered bowing out of their agreement, unsure whether he could stand the gut-wrenching challenge of pretending all evening. Now, of course, he was delighted to have forced himself to come. Such happiness he had never allowed himself, and yet here they were.

There was a slight chill in the air, which he was grateful for - for the simple reason that it gave him the perfect excuse to hold her closer. And they were not pretending! He could not believe the turn that the evening had taken. And hey, it may have been partly due to the excessive amounts of champagne they had drunk, but he could not shake the feeling that she and her wonderful warmth were the reason why he didn't feel the cold.