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Authors: Abigail Reynolds
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satisfaction at the success of her plot.
Her playful smile evoked a very different response in Darcy, whose eyes darkened as he gazed intently into her eyes. Elizabeth forgot to breathe, and as he dropped his gaze to her lips, felt a disturbing surge of sensation. She looked away from him abruptly, realizing that she was at a certain disadvantage as to avoiding his advances while she sat with one boot off and one on.
Darcy, seeing her discomfort, had rarely wished so fervently for that happy fluency of speech possessed by Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. How in the name of heaven was he supposed to apologize for the way he looked at her, especially since he could hardly claim that he had not wanted to do more than look. Finally he said quietly, “I apologize, Miss Bennet. I shall endeavor to remember that I must be patient.”
“I cannot argue with that conclusion,” she replied, her eyes still averted. She hardly knew what to say or do; she was becoming uncomfortably aware that there was a rift between the distance she wished to establish between them and her response whenever he touched her or looked at her with those smoldering eyes. She could not but disapprove of herself for having such a reaction to a man toward whom she had no serious intentions. However, regardless of her inner conflict, she could hardly continue staring at the ground until Jane and Bingley returned, so with firm resolve but little self-confidence she looked up at him, only to find that he was now staring off into space.
“Do you suppose Mr. Bingley has realized yet that we have abandoned him?” she asked lightly.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a valiant attempt at a smile. “I would imagine so, since he was hoping for something of the sort. I suspect that he may have been surprised at your involvement, however.”
“Well, you may tell him that I am prepared to injure myself on his behalf whenever the need arises.”
He seemed to reach some sort of decision and turned to look at her. With a question in his eyes, he extended his hand, palm up, towards her. She looked at it, told herself that she would be out of her mind to be encouraging him, wavered, and, deciding that he was in need of the reassurance, placed her hand in his. A shock of sensation surged through her as he closed his hand around hers, and he rewarded her with an expression of unlooked-for warmth, leaving her full of unanswered questions about why she cared about reassuring him, why she was so warmed by his smile, and above all why having his hand on hers pleased her so.
After sitting in a companionable silence for some time, Darcy said, “You mentioned that your tour with your aunt and uncle is delayed. May I ask when you will be leaving?”
“In a month.” She smiled at his transparency. Had it always been this simple to tell what he was thinking, and had she simply never given it a thought before?
“Georgiana will be pleased to have an opportunity to see more of you before you disappear into the wilds of the north.”
“The wilds of the north, indeed,” she said, then, recalling that she had not told him that the new plans involved Derbyshire, suddenly found the entire situation overwhelmingly amusing. She began to laugh, and found herself barely able to stop.
He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—it is the czar of Russia.”
This only encouraged her, and she was wiping tears of laughter from her face when Jane and Bingley reappeared. Jane’s face was shining with joy, and Bingley wore a rather silly smile. Elizabeth, having rapidly extracted her hand from Darcy’s and restored her boot to its rightful location, immediately went to her sister and embraced her, and had the joy of hearing her acknowledge, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of kindness was a fresh source of joy
Her playful smile evoked a very different response in Darcy, whose eyes darkened as he gazed intently into her eyes. Elizabeth forgot to breathe, and as he dropped his gaze to her lips, felt a disturbing surge of sensation. She looked away from him abruptly, realizing that she was at a certain disadvantage as to avoiding his advances while she sat with one boot off and one on.
Darcy, seeing her discomfort, had rarely wished so fervently for that happy fluency of speech possessed by Bingley and Colonel Fitzwilliam. How in the name of heaven was he supposed to apologize for the way he looked at her, especially since he could hardly claim that he had not wanted to do more than look. Finally he said quietly, “I apologize, Miss Bennet. I shall endeavor to remember that I must be patient.”
“I cannot argue with that conclusion,” she replied, her eyes still averted. She hardly knew what to say or do; she was becoming uncomfortably aware that there was a rift between the distance she wished to establish between them and her response whenever he touched her or looked at her with those smoldering eyes. She could not but disapprove of herself for having such a reaction to a man toward whom she had no serious intentions. However, regardless of her inner conflict, she could hardly continue staring at the ground until Jane and Bingley returned, so with firm resolve but little self-confidence she looked up at him, only to find that he was now staring off into space.
“Do you suppose Mr. Bingley has realized yet that we have abandoned him?” she asked lightly.
The corners of his mouth turned up in a valiant attempt at a smile. “I would imagine so, since he was hoping for something of the sort. I suspect that he may have been surprised at your involvement, however.”
“Well, you may tell him that I am prepared to injure myself on his behalf whenever the need arises.”
He seemed to reach some sort of decision and turned to look at her. With a question in his eyes, he extended his hand, palm up, towards her. She looked at it, told herself that she would be out of her mind to be encouraging him, wavered, and, deciding that he was in need of the reassurance, placed her hand in his. A shock of sensation surged through her as he closed his hand around hers, and he rewarded her with an expression of unlooked-for warmth, leaving her full of unanswered questions about why she cared about reassuring him, why she was so warmed by his smile, and above all why having his hand on hers pleased her so.
After sitting in a companionable silence for some time, Darcy said, “You mentioned that your tour with your aunt and uncle is delayed. May I ask when you will be leaving?”
“In a month.” She smiled at his transparency. Had it always been this simple to tell what he was thinking, and had she simply never given it a thought before?
“Georgiana will be pleased to have an opportunity to see more of you before you disappear into the wilds of the north.”
“The wilds of the north, indeed,” she said, then, recalling that she had not told him that the new plans involved Derbyshire, suddenly found the entire situation overwhelmingly amusing. She began to laugh, and found herself barely able to stop.
He raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess—it is the czar of Russia.”
This only encouraged her, and she was wiping tears of laughter from her face when Jane and Bingley reappeared. Jane’s face was shining with joy, and Bingley wore a rather silly smile. Elizabeth, having rapidly extracted her hand from Darcy’s and restored her boot to its rightful location, immediately went to her sister and embraced her, and had the joy of hearing her acknowledge, with the liveliest emotion, that she was the happiest creature in the world. Elizabeth’s congratulations were given with a sincerity, a warmth, a delight, which words could but poorly express. Every sentence of kindness was a fresh source of joy
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