Page 28 of Love Drunk for Mr Darcy

"You have scarcely spoken since we left Hunsford."

Darcy seemed genuinely surprised. "I thought you preferred quiet."

"I do, on occasion."

"I did not wish to trouble you."

Elizabeth frowned. "By ignoring me?"

This answer clearly aggravated him, but she saw him make a concerted effort to smooth out the expression. "By requiring conversation when you may not feel inclined towards it."

"You are allowed to speak to me, Mr Darcy."

His mouth tightened once more. "William. Or at least Darcy. We are not taking tea with my aunt."

Elizabeth looked at him, caught somewhere between amusement and annoyance. "Darcy, then."

He nodded at her and once more turned back to the view. Silence threatened again and Elizabeth sighed. "You might tell me something about Pemberley… Darcy."

The question seemed to catch his interest. He turned from the window and, for the first time since they had climbed into the carriage, some of the solemnity left his expression. "What would you like to know?"

"I hardly know. I have never seen Derbyshire."

"Then I envy you your first sight of it. It is very beautiful, particularly at this time of year."

Elizabeth replied teasingly, "You are perhaps not an entirely impartial judge."

"No," he admitted, a faint smile appearing. "But I have confidence that even you may approve of it."

"Even me?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

His smile deepened a fraction. "I only mean you have never been shy in expressing your disapproval of things that fail to meet your standards."

There he was again. The man from the cellar. The one who appeared to her in flashes of returned memory. The one who could laugh at himself and tease her without malice. Elizabeth felt the tension that knotted in her stomach uncoil slightly.

Darcy told her of Pemberley then, speaking first of the house and staff before moving on to the grounds. There was a path above the lake which Georgiana favoured because it gave the finest view of the house, while he preferred another that wound through a stand of old beech trees and came out near the stream. He spoke easily and without the pride she might have expected. The conversation began to flow more easily between them as she peppered him with questions that he answered warmly and easily.

He began to tell her of a place that very few knew of, a small pool with a waterfall where his mother often took him as a boy. She had told him that fairies danced in that special place and he admitted that he still often went there to feel close to his dear, departed mama. He looked up at her then, his eyes full of such tender feeling that she felt like he had shared an intimate part of his soul. For several seconds neither spoke. The carriage seemed suddenly smaller, the space between their knees far tighter than it had been a moment earlier. Elizabeth became conscious of his hand resting upon the seat beside him, broad and strong, and remembered those fingers sliding into her hair while her mouth moved against his.

Heat rushed into her face and Darcy's gaze dropped briefly to her lips. The carriage lurched over a rut and Elizabeth slid forwards before she could brace herself. Darcy moved instantly. Those broad hands closed around her waist, preventing her from falling to the floor between them. For a long heartbeat, she remained half out of her seat, her fingers gripping his shoulder. Darcy's face was very close to hers. Close enough that she could see the dark shadow already beginning to form along his jaw and the faint crease between his brows. Close enough to feel his breath warm against her skin.

"Elizabeth," he said softly. He leaned towards her and she found she could not move away. More, she did not want to move away. She wanted desperately to taste him and her mind went blank of anything other than that single overwhelming desire.

Darcy leaned towards her, inch by inch as if a sudden move might scare her. Then something flashed in his face—as if he had come back to himself from far away—and he stopped abruptly, placing her back on her seat as if she were no more than a parcel and positioning himself as far away as was possible in the close confines of the carriage.

"Forgive me. I know this marriage was not what you wanted. I would never take advantage of the position in which circumstances have placed you."

Elizabeth stared at him, embarrassment causing her face to flush. She attempted a light tone. "You need not apologise for preventing me from falling in a heap on the carriage floor."

"No. Of course not." He looked down at his gloved hands. "I only meant that I shall take greater care not to presume on our situation in the future."

She had no idea what to say. Her emotions and thoughts were now a jumble of hurt and confusion. Anger at herself, at him, at her father, at the world in general flared inside her.

Darcy continued, apparently mistaking her silence for encouragement. "You have made your feelings quite clear, and I do not wish you to fear that marriage will give me licence to demand anything from you that you do not freely wish to give."

"How very thoughtful," she said, hating the exchange and wanting nothing more than to be out of the carriage and away from the whole miserable situation. She longed suddenly for the wide fields around Longbourn, somewhere she could walk until her thoughts settled and she could breathe properly again. She turned towards the window and fixed her gaze upon the passing countryside.

The carriage rolled steadily north.