Page 21 of Midnight at Pemberley

He sighed deeply with resignation. “First, we will review the demivolte.” They stood side by side, sweeping the sword through the air while turning. “Now, let us oppose each other. I want you to block my assault. Keep your sword horizontal, not vertical.” He executed the move in slow motion, providing her time to adjust, but she required no pampering. Elizabeth Bennet, were she a man, could take her toll on a dueling field. “Excellent,” he declared after the fourth attempt.

“A new move, please,” she begged excitedly. “I love this freedom!”

“Whatever you wish, Vixen.” Darcy stepped to the side again. Raising his right hand above his head, he arched the sword in a sweeping loop, turning it under and lunging forward. “This is called an envelopment. Follow me.” He stayed beside her and repeated the move several times before she copied it exactly. Then he took his place before her, switching the sword to his left hand, so he could mirror her movement.

“You can use both hands equally well,” she mused in surprise. “Such is a mark of distinction, Sir.”

Darcy bowed graciously. “Permit me to observe the completed fence.” He took up a position along the wall to provide her room to execute the form. She moved with perfect symmetry, using her free arm for balance.

“What do you find so amusing, Mr. Darcy?” Her words brought him from his musings.

He shook his head. He turned to place his sword on the table. “You learn quickly. Soon, my services will not be required.”

“Your services mayhap, but never you.”

Darcy touched her cheek with his fingertips. “I brought a light meal. Will you join me?” He reached for the basket along the wall.

Elizabeth nodded, accepted the blanket he offered, and spread it on the floor. She placed the rapier to the side before assisting him in setting the dishes upon the basket. “Cheese, hard bread, fruit, wine, and apple tarts. It is a picnic in November. How adventurous!”

“You mean scandalous.” He sat on the blanket and pulled her down before him, spooning her body with his, his arm draped over her shoulder. Elizabeth broke off bread and cheese, placing it on a plate they could share. Then she turned and fed him. He licked her fingertips, sucking them enticingly. The world dropped away when they were together.

“Would Georgiana like me?” she asked as she snuggled into his chest.

“My sister trusts my judgment. But I believe she would judge you independent of my affection for you. I wish she had a bit more of your spirit. She is an intelligent girl, yet she lacks sensibility—too naive—too trusting at times.”

“Then you think I am jaded?” she asked mockingly.

He kissed the nape of Elizabeth’s neck and behind her ear. “Do not put words in my mouth, my dear.”

Elizabeth whispered, “You have presented me a world I will never know again.” She turned to face him. “This is another memorable day.”

“It is not over, Elizabeth.” He pressed her onto the blanket, looming over her. “I cannot send you home without kissing your lips properly.” His words were a whisper on her cheek. Then he pressed his mouth to hers. His tongue parted her lips, and Darcy became lost to the moment. His hands caressed her shoulders, and he rolled with her, positioning her to lie on him. Her heat burned his very soul. His hands moved up and down her back. The blood pounded into his senses. At length, she broke the kiss, burying her head into the side of his neck. Darcy breathed her name, “Elizabeth!”

“We cannot let this happen, William.” She spoke the words while remaining wrapped in his embrace.

He could feel his heart thunder in his chest. He turned to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. “It will not. You must forgive me. For a moment, I sought the impossible.” He spoke to the ceiling, unable to turn his head and see the disapproval on her face.

Thankfully, she did not shun him. Elizabeth remained in his arms before reluctantly rolling away from him.

Ahh! She screamed out in pain, cupping the palm of one hand in the other. Blood flowed from a cut across her palm, the result of her hand coming down on the edge of the rapier she earlier placed on the floor.

Although not bleeding profusely, the wound lay open and fresh. Darcy scrambled to his knees, and without thinking, he pulled her hand to his mouth and sucked the blood away. It was an innocent action. Yet the moment the blood touched his lips, something inside him changed. He shuddered, and his eyes closed, as if savoring a fine wine. He sucked again, and his eyes glazed over, an icy coldness, the color of snow crystals floating through the air.

“William!” Fear filled her cry. She attempted to dislodge her hand, but he no longer recognized what he did. Darcy held her fast, his tongue washing over the gap in her skin. “William!” she demanded, pulling harder, but he was lost to the thrill. At length, in desperation, Elizabeth grabbed the sword and swung the butt of the handle against his face, cutting a gash into his cheek.

Darcy fell back, releasing her. To his horror, Elizabeth sprang to her feet, the sword grasped tightly in her hand. She knew fear, but it was remorse that spread through him. He covered his eyes with his forearm. A moan of disgust burst from his lips. He never looked at her, not wishing to witness the disdain in her eyes. “Now,” he said, his lips trembling. “Now, you observe the animal I am.” The hollowness in his voice was nearly as frightening as his actions. “I can never live a normal life.” He lowered his arm to his side. He remained flat on his back while she remained poised with the sword above him. “Put the sword away, Elizabeth, and tend to your wound. I will injure you no more.” He licked his lips, bringing moisture back to them, but still tasting her lifeline there, making her a part of him. “Leave, Elizabeth. We must not meet again. It is too dangerous.”

Tears ran down her cheeks. “I will not leave you, William,” she whispered as she dropped the sword to kneel beside him.

Unable to trust himself, Darcy grabbed her wrist, pulling them both to their feet. “Bloody hell, Elizabeth! I cannot do this! I will kill myself rather than harm you!” He grabbed her cloak and violently shoved it around her shoulders. “Do not return.” He placed his handkerchief into the palm of her hand to stop the bleeding. Then he half dragged—half carried her to the door. “It ends today! I cannot have this life! Fate dealt me a different hand, and I must play those cards.” Bitterness laced his words.

Elizabeth fought him, beating her fists against his chest. “No!” she screamed repeatedly, but when he tugged the door open with one hand and pushed her out the entrance with the other, she quit fighting. Her sudden stillness forced him to react, and Darcy froze. No trace of his temptress remained. Instead, she stood in misery, tears dangling from her lashes. They remained as if in a terrible tableau, muscles flexed for action, yet unmoving. Her words were barely audible, but he heard them. “I do not want to leave you, William. You need me—whether you like it or not—you need me.”

“I need no one!” his voice boomed in defiance.

Elizabeth shook her head. “That is where you err, Mr. Darcy. You never required anyone before, but this is where Life brought you. You may deceive yourself, but you cannot deceive me. This is not the end, Mr. Darcy.” With that, she stormed away.

“Where have you been?” Jane called. Elizabeth hid Mr. Darcy’s handkerchief in her pocket before she entered the house.