Page 18 of Midnight at Pemberley

Elizabeth took pity on Caroline. “He means to be severe on us.” She looked at Darcy without purposeful intent. “The surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing of it.”

But both he and Elizabeth knew Miss Bingley was not so easily deterred.

“Oh, please tell us, Mr. Darcy,” Miss Bingley pleaded with a pout.

Darcy leaned deeper into the chair’s cushions. “I have not the smallest objection to explaining. You either chose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidence and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.” He paused for a dramatic effect. “If the first, I should be in your way. If the second, I can admire you better from here.”

Miss Bingley appeared to be shocked, but he noted how Elizabeth’s shoulders shifted. She was enjoying Miss Bingley’s astonishment.

“How shall we punish him?” Caroline asked Miss Elizabeth.

Elizabeth’s lips twitched in stifled amusement. “Nothing so easy,” she said. “We can all plague and punish one another. Tease him—laugh at him. Intimate as you are, you must know how it is to be done.”

He and Elizabeth were certainly more intimate than he and Miss Bingley would ever be.

“Mr. Darcy is not to be laughed at,” protested Caroline.

Elizabeth inquired lightly, “Then you think him to have no imperfections?” Darcy flinched. It always bothered him to know criticisms.

However, his self-censure died quickly. He felt the intensity of Elizabeth’s eyes on his body, and despite his current angst, he reacted to her scrutiny with an unexpected surge of desire. Elizabeth analyzed him from head to toe, and Darcy felt the tug of his manhood.

“Can a man be so perfect?” she mused. “I wonder what secrets he keeps.”

“I have made no such pretense. I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding.” Darcy attempted to distract himself from his lust. “My temper I dare not vouch for. It is too little yielding—certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against me. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever.”

“I would not wish to be a recipient of your wrath, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth responded. “There is, I believe, however, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.” She started away from him. “Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?”

“Agree, Miss Elizabeth?” He smiled. “We rarely agree.”

“Do you have a need to hate everyone?” she asked with irritation.

Darcy shifted uncomfortably. Hate? All he wanted now was to touch her. “You, Miss Elizabeth, willfully misunderstand me.”

“I will provide you the opportunity, Sir, to convince me otherwise,” she taunted.

Before he could respond, Miss Bingley ended the conversation with a call to her sister for some music. Darcy, reluctantly, returned to his book.

Elizabeth and Miss Bennet would return to Longbourn on the morrow, and Darcy was loath to view his time with the lady to know an end. For their last evening, they took up residence on a settee in the alcove of Charles’s study. The household had been asleep for hours, but they chatted on.

“Do you not see, Elizabeth, Wellesley must make a stand, or Napoleon will march right to King George’s door.”

“But the number of lives!” she protested. “So many men killed.”

“The numbers would be great,” he conceded.

They sat on either end of the furniture. Darcy stretched out his legs before him. Meanwhile, Elizabeth draped hers over his lap. He lightly massaged the arch of her foot. An outsider might think them as an example of perfect marital harmony. After a long silence, he spoke the words neither of them wished to say: “You return to Longbourn tomorrow?”

“Jane is well, and we cannot intrude on Mr. Bingley’s kindness any longer.” Impulsively, she tucked her legs under her and sat up straighter. “We leave after services tomorrow.”

Darcy sat up to straighten his waistcoat and jacket. “I see,” he mumbled.

“We knew the end was near.” The silence filled the space between them.

He removed imaginary lint from his sleeve. “Naturally. It was expected.”

Before they could say anything more, they heard someone in the hall. Elizabeth scrambled to her feet and plastered herself to the wall so no one would see her. Darcy stepped forward into the room and into the light. “Miss Bingley!” he exclaimed.

“Mr. Darcy!” she gasped. “I did not expect to discover you here. I came for a book, but saw the reflection of the candle.”