Blinded By Prejudice by KaraLynne Mackrory

Chapter Twenty

Such a speech could not but draw my thoughts away from scenes unpleasant and towards Mr Darcy. Unbidden, the image of the heated embrace between Mr Collins and Miss Bingley that I had witnessed in the hall came back—but the participants were replaced by myself and Mr Darcy. My face was on fire, and all laughter died deep in my throat, leaving it fiery and parched. What illness had infected my mind to imagine such a thing?

“Might I enquire as to the source of your mirth?” he asked again.

He was looking at me with such an interested and eager expression. His full lips were spread into a small smile, all while his eyes darted in small movements around as if trying desperately to conjure up my image. My mind reflected again on the source of my amusement, and I laughed a little at the memory of the shock in Miss Bingley’s eyes. She could not have liked my witnessing her lack of propriety. My eyes moved, pulled by some force to Mr Darcy’s lips, as I once again was assaulted with the image of the two of us acting with such passion. Curiosity filled me, and on a breath, I leaned forward, closer to those lips, still spread in a small smile. My hand lifted to catch myself against Mr Darcy’s chest.

It was his quick intake of air that shattered the glass of unreality in my eyes, and my nearness to him was at once brought to my attention. I leaned back quickly, tucking a lock behind my ear with an uneasy laugh.

“Damn these eyes,” my companion said in a low whisper.

“Forgive me, I do not know what came over me just then, Mr Darcy.”

“I wish it might again!” He was clearly speaking only to himself but his voice was just loud enough for me to hear it. “You are forgiven, of course, as long as you tell me what it is that had you so delightfully amused. When I heard you enter and then the bewitching sound of your laughter, I could not help but go to you. I wish only that I could have seen the sight also.”

There was real regret in his tone, and I was flattered by it. I took up his hand and, seeing how much it pleased him, placed my other hand atop to enfold his.

“There are some advantages to not having sight, sir. What occurred outside this room is a sight I would wish unseen if it were possible.”

Once again, I was amused at my wit, pleased at the jubilant spirits I was in today and a little surprised that being with Mr Darcy had not changed them; if anything he added to them.

“I cannot imagine anything I would wish unseen if I could have my sight again, rather there are quite a lot of things I would wish to commit to memory should I be fortunate enough to regain it.”

I squeezed his hand, wishing to impart my understanding. “Well, sir. I do hate to contradict you, however even you would not wish to be witness to what I have.”

Mr Darcy smiled broadly, reached a hand behind me, and soon I felt the caress at my neck that always followed. I ought to be immune to it, so often and so practiced a move it was for him now. However, it still caused my heart to skip and the nerves of my skin to come alive in a way only he could command.

“Let me be the judge of that, Elizabeth. I would endure much unpleasantness to see your laughter, so let us out with it.”

I turned a little towards him, eager to see how he would react to the scandal I had just witnessed. I was not aware at first how comfortably, how informally, I positioned myself as I began the story. I was caught up in the recounting of it to such a degree, focused solely on the expressions of his face and anticipating the reactions he would have, that I did not take note of how we were seated.

“I swear Charles and I stood a full minute in shock, seeing them engaged like that! And I assure you, from my vantage, they were both eager participants!”

I shuddered through a laugh, triumphant in my predictive abilities when Mr Darcy’s eyes rounded and his face exhibited surprise and then shifted into disbelieving disgust. One arm still rested alongside us on the top of the sofa. I was turned towards him, my one leg tucked under the other and my hand, to my amazement and surprise, was placed inadvertently on Mr Darcy’s knee. In my recounting, I had placed it there, and now Mr Darcy moved his hand to rest atop it. I recognised my relaxed arrangement as one I often employed with Jane when we would talk freely with one another. How differently this felt, how intimate.

Conscious of our positions for the first time, I began to turn forward on the sofa again, pulling my hand carefully off Mr Darcy’s knee. I was surely out of my mind to have forgotten myself so. Before I could fully withdraw, his fingers captured mine to prevent their escape.

“I am sorry you observed such a scene. Though it does confirm some of our observations in a way that somehow gives little satisfaction for being correct. However, I see you had the right of it earlier. Some things are better left never witnessed.”

“Indeed!” I laughed, pulling myself to stand, full of restless energy. Sitting so intimately with Mr Darcy, the warmth of his leg still radiating up my arm, left me feeling off balance. I was far too attracted to the man I would marry. “I assure you, I have no wish to encounter Miss Bingley or my cousin ever again!”

I walked behind the sofa then, pressing gently on his arm when I saw his chagrin at my departure. “Now, Mr Darcy, what shall I read to you today?” I began walking around the room, putting forth suggestions while he attended me from his seated spot. His objections to my offers made me laugh, for they were all absurd.

“What of poetry?” I chuckled to myself, recalling arguing with him about the inefficacy of poetry in bringing about love.

“I dare not risk it,” was his impertinent reply.

“I feel almost a desire to ask your meaning, sir. But alas, I come to the next section. How should you like history?”

“Not today, Elizabeth.”

“And what, pray tell, have you against history? I observed you preferred that to any other when I came to Netherfield to nurse Jane.”

“I did not realise you were so observant of my preferences.”

He was being playful, and I was in the mood to indulge him. “Well certainly I observed it. As I observed your disapproval of my appearance the morning I arrived from Longbourn.”

“I believe your memory is faulty, Elizabeth. I do not recall disapproval among my thoughts of your appearance that morning.”

I walked along, my hand trailing across leather bindings until I reached the window. The ground outside was spotted with patches of snow not yet fully melted.

“If it was not disapproval, it was close enough to it.”

“I wonder whether you would believe me if I were to say that on that day, the only coherent thought in my brain upon seeing your warm, pinkened cheeks, chestnut curls blown free of your bonnet, and trim figure, radiant with health, was…far from disapproval. I recall thinking, ‘she is exquisite’.”

I chuckled uneasily, my heart beating wildly by such a flagrant thing to say. “I hardly believe you could have observed all that with the shocking amount of mud on my skirts.” Bitterly, I recalled overhearing Miss Bingley later that day, when she thought I was with Jane, speak of them being six inches deep in it.

“I have been the fool many times over, but I am not so foolish as to think I can safely comment on the condition and appearance of a lady’s dress and live to tell about it.”

His easy, dry wit brought me into a more comfortable frame of mind. It was a return to the playfulness of before his warm words, and I was thankful for it.

“Indeed, a good lesson for any gentleman to memorise. By the by, you must never answer me if, in the future, I ask whether my dress does not flatter my figure.”

He laughed, and the fullness of it, the rich hot chocolate, warm-down-my-throat kind of quality to it, was a little intoxicating. An involuntary shiver passed up my spine. I walked nearer to him again, standing behind the sofa where he sat. It was almost as if his free amusement drew me to him.

“I promise to remember that, though I hardly think it will be necessary. I cannot imagine there is a dress in England I would not find pleasing on you.”

Impulsively, I placed my hand on his head, and ruffled his soft curls, laughing. “Very good, sir. You are well prepared for a successful marriage.”

My laughter died softly as the feel of his hair instantly brought me back with vivid acuity to the memory of those curls from our time in the ruins. It reminded me of when I had inspected his head for his injury and placed pressure there with my handkerchief. Mr Darcy had seemed pleased at our exchange before, though he was silent as I was now. My fingers ventured to the back of his head where I expected to feel the bump, but it had long healed.

I withdrew, feeling all the perversity of my actions. Thrice I had forgotten myself around this man and acted without thought. If I were being reasonable, I might have comforted myself with this proof that I was becoming more at ease around my betrothed, but I could not help thinking of Miss Bingley in that moment and wondering how much better I was acting with Mr Darcy. True, we were not behaving so…impetuously, but that meant little when I acknowledged the truth that I enjoyed being so open with him. Other than Jane, there was not a soul in my life with whom I felt as comfortable.

Mr Darcy turned around to me. Neither of us said anything about my breach. It was gentlemanly of him to not mention it, or more deservedly, reprimand me for it.

“Perhaps instead of reading to me, you might just sit with me.”

I nodded, then rolled my eyes at myself before saying, “As you wish, sir.”

I tentatively stepped around his legs and again placed myself next to him. After a few tense and thick moments of silence, he spoke.

“Earlier, you referred to my friend in such a way… You…well I understand he is to be your brother now.”

I marvelled how quickly I was beginning to understand Mr Darcy. He was still an enigma, but sometimes I felt as if I might be able to finish his thoughts before he spoke them.

“I used his Christian name.”

Mr Darcy nodded, and he kept his head lowered as he said, “Might you…do you feel yet as though you could call me by my name, Elizabeth?”

I felt a little ashamed now for waiting as long as I did. It was a privilege I had freely exchanged with Georgiana nearly as soon as I had become engaged to her brother. The colonel made free use of my Christian name, though I did not reciprocate, no matter how often he teased. And as Mr Darcy had so fairly pointed out, Charles and I had done without formalities for some weeks now. Yet I had not granted that same intimacy to my future husband.

“You are correct to request this of me.”

“I only wish it if you can be comfortable.”

I thought about it, and rolled his name around my tongue. It wound around in my head, and I felt each pass bring more warmth to my cheeks. Although supremely disconcerting, leaving me a little flustered, the concession felt right.

“I should be pleased to call you by your given name…Fitzwilliam.”

Heartfelt joy shone quite clearly upon his features, and he brought my hand to his lips for a kiss of thanks. With uncanny accuracy, he reached out and brushed my cheek in a whisper-soft caress. I felt a change in topic necessary, when my thoughts betrayed me once again to examine the curve of his lips with focused attention.

Hesitantly, I began speaking of the weather, finally becoming less discomposed by the sensations skipping along my veins and the feelings drowning me, enough to describe the playful folly my sisters and I engaged in with the snowfall.

He seemed contented in a way I had not often seen in him and genuinely interested in our childish antics. He would on occasion break in with a comment of his own about the snow in Derbyshire, making me curious to see his home. I wondered at when I might have that pleasure, for we had not again broached the topic of a date for our wedding.

At first I did not wish to push it forward, grateful for any opportunity to prolong the inevitable. Only now that I had begun to enjoy my time with Fitzwilliam, I found a small measure of myself eager for that life to begin. I knew he had his reasons for not speaking of a date, but I worried that if he waited until his sight was restored, we may never exchange vows. He attempted to flatter me and make me feel as though he wanted this union, which I think was a kind thing for him to do. It would be prudent for both of us, if we wished to find happiness, to forget the rancour of our previous acquaintance. Though I must admit that a small part of me worried that my betrothed would one day find himself full of regrets.

Charles interrupted us as he entered the library. His hair was askew as though he had been running his hands through it frequently. He apologised for his interruption, and I was thankful his timing was not a little earlier when my own hands had been running through his friend’s hair.

“Elizabeth, I am supremely sorry for what you witnessed an hour ago. It ought not to have happened. Might I hope you have informed Darcy? I should not like to myself, but I would if he is in ignorance of it.”

“I know of it, Charles.”

“Good, good.” Bingley began to pace the room in agitation. Clearly, he had not expected to have such a shocking business to deal with today. “I had thought I ought to go to London tomorrow, Darcy, and procure my sister and Mr Collins a common licence. But I should like your opinion on the matter. The banns have already been read twice for them.”

“I hardly know what to advise you. I would not have guessed Miss Bingley and Mr Collins to be so little trusted.”

“Precisely!”

“I do not believe, aside from myself and you, that they were observed by any others,” I ventured to say. Charles confirmed it, adding only that the maid who cleaned up the vase was told it was knocked over.

“Then, with so short a time before their union, perhaps nothing need be done except a little more effective chaperonage.”

Fitzwilliam chuckled, smiling with admiration at me before nodding his agreement in the direction of his friend’s voice. Charles seemed to settle with relief. I imagined how little he liked having to leave Jane to procure a licence, let alone explain the reason for the haste when their wedding was set for only a week hence in any case.

Charles, apparently satisfied with the conclusion of such a disconcerting topic, stood, eager to quit the room. “I think I shall just get Jane’s opinion, then, if you will both excuse me.”

He hardly waited for our replies before leaving the library. Seeing as how he left the door ajar, I began to wonder at our own situation.

“Do you think perhaps we are being unfair to require proper chaperonage for Miss Bingley and Mr Collins when you and I are often left unattended and without any chaperon?”

“Do we need a chaperon, Elizabeth?”

A few weeks ago I might have laughed at such a question. I might have thought Fitzwilliam was even being insulting. However, no matter when he voiced that question, had he said it with the same low seductive whisper he employed just now, I could not have brushed it off.

I made the mistake of looking at him, and realising how close our heads were to each other, I bit my lip. I felt his breath on my cheeks and knew he could tell my respiration was becoming irregular.

“Well…” the words died in a murmur on my lips. Which was a very good thing, for I did not know exactly what I might have said. Especially since I was once again caught up in wondering about the nature of his lips. Were they as soft as they looked? Good gracious! What has come over me today?

Fitzwilliam chuckled gruffly, turning away towards the room. “Did you know that when you catch a fish, Elizabeth, you cannot reel it in all in one go, but you must loosen the line and slowly guide it to you? The fish must choose to come closer on its own with a little persuasion.”

Confusion certainly, but given the rapid pace of my heart, gratitude, too, filled my mind for his timely change of topic, little though the new one interested me. I almost believed myself capable of needing that chaperon had he not spoken. To think that I might have acted as Miss Bingley did filled me with surprise. It might not have been wrong, in truth, since we are to be married; however, I imagine Fitzwilliam would not have appreciated my forwardness. When that aspect of our relationship came about, I hoped I was not the only interested party.

“I know little of fishing, as you well know from our conversations with my father.”

Fitzwilliam made a fascinating sound in his throat, which drew my eyes there. “Then forgive me for choosing such an uninteresting topic. Please tell me more about the snow creatures you made. Were they very good likenesses?”

I laughed, “Hardly! I think Kitty might have had the most success with her bunny, but then Lydia stumbled right into it, and that was the end of it. My own small dog was not recognisable at all.”

“I wish I could have been there to see it.”

I did too. In so many ways.