This chapter should be read at the beginning of chapter 37.
Darcy's proposal fails miserably. He gives Elizabeth a letter the following morning explaining his actions. Then he and Colonel Fitzwilliam leave Kent the next day.
Chapter Text
"In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."
Darcy stood unmoving, his elbow resting on the mantle, measuring the dreadful silence as he awaited her answer. Contrary to his expectations, she did not smile, nor did she blush. Instead, he watched as her expression slowly shifted from astonishment to anger.
"From the very beginning, from the first moment, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such that I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry."
Elizabeth's biting words echoed for the hundredth time in Darcy's memory as he stared, unseeing out the carriage window. How could he have been so self deceived, so woefully ignorant as to the true nature of her sentiments? In his arrogance he'd mistaken mere politeness for preference, kindness for interest, obstinance for flirtation. He'd been so foolish as to actually imagine she'd been anticipating his proposal, when in truth nothing could have been further beyond the bounds of possibility.
He was completely engrossed in self-reflection when the Colonel suddenly proclaimed, "She rejected you, did she not?"
Darcy looked up, frowning at his cousin, annoyed at the interruption of his private thoughts.
"I have no idea what you are speaking of," He responded coldly.
Colonel Fitzwilliam scoffed. "It all makes sense now. Your changeful manner, the constant attention you paid her, the multiple delays in our departure, your behavior towards Lady Catherine, and your jealous antipathy to me. I am certain you were in love with her before you left Hertfordshire."
"You are mistaken."
"Darcy, don't be nonsensical, you are more familiar to me than my own brother. Had I been blind, I would have perceived your partiality for Miss Elizabeth."
Darcy refused to engage further on the subject. Instead, he rested his chin on his hand and resumed staring discontentedly out the carriage window.
The Colonel sat forward, thoroughly intrigued, he continued his efforts to goad Darcy into a confession.
"What, was she too poor? Too inconsequential for the great Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley? How fitting that when you finally found the sense to pull your head out of your own arse, she refused you. I knew when you returned to the house that evening in a mood more ominous than I ever used to see in you, that something dire must have occurred. Ha, I wish I had seen it. How did she do it? What did she say?"
"What purpose would it serve to tell you? So you may continue to mock me?"
The Colonel sobered at this remark. He perceived genuine remorse in Darcy's tone.
"I seldom get the chance to nettle you, it was only a bit of fun, but Darcy, you know I would go to my grave defending you. Forgive me, I will be serious now. As I've told you before, I greatly admire Miss Elizabeth. I believe she is one of the finest women in England, irrespective of her circumstances. Perhaps the only woman who would serve to truly match you. Tell me plainly, is all hope lost?"
"Decidedly. I was…," he sighed in frustration, "I was unkind. In my haste, in the exigency of the moment I confessed that I loved her against my reason, against my better judgment. I meant to illustrate the constancy of my affections, but instead I insulted her. She was livid. Oh, if you had seen her," he half smiled, "she was marvelous sight. She chastised me for my arrogance and delineated my faults. She went so far as to declare, quite poignantly, that I was the last man on earth she could ever consider. But even setting aside the disgraceful manner of my proposal, there was never any chance of my success."
"Why is that?"
"Firstly, for the part I played in separating Bingley from her sister. And second, for my supposed injustice to George Wickham."
"Wickham! What does that blaggard have to do with all this?"
"You recall I wrote to you when I found him in Hertfordshire?"
The Colonel nodded.
"He became acquainted with Miss Elizabeth. I don't know precisely what he told her, but she accused me of ruining his prospects, and reducing him to his current pecuniary state. No doubt the whole of Hertfordshire has heard his tale."
"Ah yes, the poor fellow. All his debts, the gambling, the whoring must be your fault." Fitzwilliam cut in sarcastically.
"I couldn't let such a baseless accusation stand against my character. Yesterday morning I wrote her a letter delineating the whole of my acquaintance with Wickham, including his attempted elopement with Georgiana. I am confident that I may rely on her discretion. I gave her leave to apply to you to verify the truth of it. Did she speak to you when you called?"
"No, I never had the opportunity of speaking with her. I waited over an hour in that dreary parlor, enduring the dreadful prattle of that vicar our aunt enjoys so much, but I never saw her. I paid my respects to the family, but Miss Elizabeth did not return. I left my parting words for her with Mrs. Collins. But enough of that, what does Bingley have to do with this?"
"I know not how she found me out, but she knows that it was I who separated Bingley from her sister."
The Colonel turned pale. "You never told me that it was the Bennet family you were speaking of!" he said defensively. "Can they really be so objectionable as you say?"
"Unfortunately."
The Colonel was about to say more, but Darcy, mistaking his meaning, raised his hand in a gesture that silenced further comment.
"You need not say it. I see the irony in my conduct. The same motives that influenced my intervention with Bingley initially deterred me from considering Miss Elizabeth as well. In his case, I believed Miss Bennet to be indifferent. As for myself, my admiration grew so strong I could not ignore it. Our abrupt departure for London was as much for my own protection as it was for Bingley's. I was grateful that the separation would remove me from a temptation that had proved intolerable. But separation was useless, regardless of the distance, I could think of nothing but her. When I met her again my sentiments were unchanged, they would not be repressed.
"I resolved that I could overlook the evils of a low connection for the remuneration of her presence. The privileges of an old name would insulate me from the worst of society's outrage, but the same protection, I fear, would not be afforded Bingley. At any rate, it no longer matters. She has refused me. I must move on. I must forget her."
The Colonel sat silent for several moments, contemplating all that Darcy had revealed.
"The battle is not lost. You have already corrected the misapprehension she was under regarding Wickham. Now you must repair the damage done with Bingley. You need only suggest that he should return to Netherfield and he will do it. See that they are reacquainted, then you may depend upon nature to take its course. Bingley will decide his own future for himself. Then at least you will have the satisfaction of knowing you have done all you could."
"It's not enough. She loathes me, Richard."
"Because she does not fully understand your character! You forget I watched you with her, you have been too circumspect. Show her the considerate heart you truly possess. Dedicate yourself to this and I am sure you will succeed.
"Do you know I was lately given this description of you, that no man better enjoys having what he likes than you."
Darcy smiled at the veracity of this statement.
"Who said that?"
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
A little while later they reached the crossroads that would separate them, as Darcy was for Pemberley, and Fitzwilliam for Matlock. They dined once more together at an inn before they parted.
Colonel Fitzwilliam mounted his horse, then circling him round, leant down to shake Darcy's hand in farewell.
"I hope you will consider all I've said. Providence has granted you a rare treasure, it would be foolhardy to give her up so easily."
"Thank you, cousin. God keep you."
By the time his carriage had regained the road, Darcy was already calculating how soon he could contrive to see Elizabeth again. He had already neglected his obligations by prolonging his stay in Kent. The spring planting by this time had been completed, and without his customary oversight. He must return to Pemberly and could not soon leave it. Besides, he had no call to return to Hertfordshire unless it was in the company of Bingley; and absolutely no hope of rectifying Elizabeth's misgivings without first repairing the damage done to her sister. Perhaps he would suggest to Bingley that another visit to Netherfield, in the late summer, was warranted. It would be to Bingley's advantage to view the fields prior to the harvest, as he was still considering the property for purchase.
He could not think of Hertfordshire without recalling the accusations Elizabeth had volleyed at him. She had been right of course. He'd behaved abominably. He'd been cold, and dismissive in company because he'd had nothing to gain from their society. Did that also mean they did not deserve his respect? He pictured her sat upon the sofa, straight backed and elegant, as she upbraided him mercilessly for his conduct. He could scarcely think of anyone who dared to speak to him in that way, with so much vigor and vehemence. Strangely, it made him yearn to throw himself at her feet and beg her forgiveness. For all his station, all his wealth, all his self-importance, she would have none of it. She retained the power to subdue him with nothing but a look, and a quick remark. How was it that the thought of her wielding said power excited him so?
He tried to push these unwholesome thoughts from his mind. It was a long journey to Pemberly, made longer still the more he tried to deny himself. Eventually he grew tired of watching the passing scenery. He closed the window curtains, obscuring the view of any passersby. He laid his head back on the cushions, closed his eyes, and abandoned his thought to self flagellation, recalling her chastisement.
"I have every reason in the world to think ill of you." He felt himself growing hard.
"You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner."
Submitting to his base desires, he freed his ready member, and began to abuse himself as he imagined he was again the subject of her tirade. He fancied the events of that evening playing out in an altogether different manner. Now when she'd concluded her speech, he envisioned moving towards her, then falling to his knees, kissing her feet. His genuflection amused her.
Though his heart raced, he spoke calmly, while he untied the ribbons at her knee that secured her stockings. "My faults, according to this calculation, are heavy indeed."
He slid her stockings down her legs until they were bare. Taking one foot in his hand he gently kissed it.
"But perhaps, these offenses can be overlooked."
He nipped at each of her delightful little toes, before grazing his teeth along her sensitive instep. He kissed the pulse point at her ankle.
"Tell me what would please you."
She looked down at him knowingly, drawing her skirts up, "Perhaps if you would behave in a more gentleman like manner."
He proceeded to kiss and caress his way up her calf.
"I comprehend your meaning perfectly, madam."
He continued the same treatment along the inside of her thigh. Just before he reached her sex, he paused. He could see the glistening wetness already forming there. His mouth watering in anticipation, he looked up at her, questioning, would she give him leave to taste?
"I'll do anything you bid," he whispered, his breath teasing her flesh.
She gripped him by the hair and pressed his face into the luscious valley between her thighs.
He drew his tongue along her slit, moaning with gratitude as he devoured her. He was no gentleman. He was a ready supplicant, her servant, desirous to submit to her every need. He returned her earlier tongue lashing with one of his own. He lapped at her eagerly, anxious to hear her breath quicken in anticipation of release. He dedicated his efforts to her pearl, drawing it gently into his mouth as his tongue excited and soothed her in turn. She leant back, letting her head fall against the sofa. Luxuriating in the pleasure that he wrought as he worshiped her.
He felt the graze of her pointed toe as she stroked her foot up the interior of his leg. She used her foot to toy with his cock, pressing its heavy weight menacingly against the taught muscles of his inner thigh.
"Don't stop," she gasped.
"Never," he groaned against her flesh.
She rewarded his devotion with another teasing stroke of her foot. She was driving him mad, he ground against that paltry point of contact, his cock straining almost painfully with need.
"Sweet heaven," she moaned.
She clenched her quivering thighs against his face, smothering him, drawing him impossibly closer. He besieged her with a ferocity he hadn't known he possessed. He felt her tremble and heard her moan with the violence of her release. He stilled, an ardent spectator, as pleasure suffused her.
When her animation ceased he kissed her mound gently.
"Does it please you?"
She looked contemplative as she combed through the hair at his temple, her fingers lightly tracing over the shell of his ear.
"I would spend my life pleasing you," he said quietly.
She smiled at him. A genial contented smile that showed him he had. His heart paused in his chest as her look suddenly turned mischievous. Her foot moved again to tease the mass between his legs. She pulled him up by his waistcoat until their eyes were on a level. She watched his eyes go wide as she ran her hand over the fall of his breeches, feeling the hardness beneath. He released a breath when she gripped and squeezed him through the fine silk fabric.
"Would you please me with this?" she asked, haughtily.
"Madam, it would be my pleasure."
She unfastened the buttons on one side, and slipped her hand underneath. He gasped as her palm met bare flesh. She wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing, stroking, measuring.
"It seems the future wife of Mr. Darcy would stand to benefit considerably from his substantial holdings."
"You perceive correctly Madam," he whispered as he pressed his lips to her throat, "and I can assure you, I am a diligent and attentive manager. No one under my care is ever left wanting."
He quickly unfastened the remaining buttons and gripped his cock, tentatively stroking. A small drop of his seed formed at the tip, he touched it to her bud, watching the thick bead of fluid stretch between them as he drew away. He dipped between her folds, briefly pressing the head to her tight opening, just enough to let her get a taste of the tantalizing stretch he would give her, before retreating again to tease her. She yearned for more, making a small protest of disappointment when he again pulled away. He traced his cock languorously over her swollen sensitive flesh, the broad head glistening as it was coated with her wetness. She was perfection, the embodiment of beauty and desire, he had to have her this instant. He pushed into her slowly, steadily advancing, feeling her warmth surround him until he thought he might die of ecstasy. She mewled against his ear.
He turned his face into her hair and inhaled her scent as he began to move. He gripped her arse for greater purchase, thrusting into her, each stroke harder and more rapid than the one that preceded it. She urged him on, moaning her desire; one hand on the back of his head, fingers tangled in his hair, the other gripped his shoulder. She would make a liar of him, for he now feared he would be unable to fulfill his boast that he would satisfy her. Like Odysseus drawn inexorably to the siren's song she tempted him dangerously close to the edge, as she rocked her body in concert with his movements. He focused his mind, drawing his attention away from the sensations that were driving him to extremity, and instead fixated on her. He tilted his hips and ground his body against her mound with a succession of slow deep thrusts.
"Oh, God, Darcy, Darcy…" she moaned.
Her fingernails dug into the skin of his back as she pleaded with him. He leant over her, driving harder, using the advantage of his superior stature and weight to pin her against the sofa. He took her face in his hand and kissed her hard, his tongue invading her mouth. Her whole body tensed, she shuddered, and she cried out as she found release. Her climax proved to be more than he could endure. He continued to thrust, forcing himself deep as her sex pulsed and constricted on his cock. He was overcome with wave after wave of pleasure as his seed issued forth.
Darcy opened his eyes to the darkened interior of the carriage. Though spent, and panting with effort, he was not satisfied. His fantasies only made his desire for the real Elizabeth more potent. Before the day was done, he vowed he would write to Bingley and propose a visit to Netherfield as soon as possible.
Thank you for taking the time to read my work. I apologize that it is taking me so long to post more chapters, but I would rather take the time to get them right, than to rush and post something I am not happy with. As always comments and corrections are welcome.