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She extended her gloved hand to him as she approached, and he took it, lifting it to his lips and bestowing upon it a kiss. His eyes never left her lovely face.

Elizabeth found herself blushing as his ardent gaze almost seemed to reach inside to caress her very soul. After several long minutes of silence, she managed to find her voice. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I trust you are well today?” she asked with a touch of her usual archness.

Darcy did not relinquish her hand and quietly replied, “I find I am very well this morning, Miss Bennet… now that you are come.”

She broke into a beautiful smile. “Why, Mr. Darcy, I remember a time when I had not believed you capable of such pretty compliments.”

He was immensely pleased by her teasing and so answered honestly, “There was a time, Miss Bennet, when I will admit I had not the proper inducement, nor the desire, to bestow such heartfelt sentiments, but it seems my existence needed only the addition of a particular lady of my acquaintance, whose intelligent eyes have bewitched me, along with her wit, her vivacity, and her unrivalled beauty.”

A lovely blush colored Elizabeth’s cheeks, and she said merrily, “Well then, sir, I should very much like some day to meet this lady of whom you speak. Certainly she must be a rather remarkable creature to inspire such a proper gentleman as you to boldly profess such feelings!”

Darcy’s eyes gleamed, and he said in a low voice, “Truly, for it is she, and she alone, who has taught me how to be alive and not just merely to endure. Now I know such a woman exists for me, here, on this earth, and not just in my dreams; I shall never again be the same as I once was, nor would I ever wish it. I wish only for her…always for her.” His voice was now hardly more than a whisper. “Elizabeth, what you have done to me?”

Elizabeth could not help but be affected by his words and his emotion, and stood entranced, unable to tear her gaze from his. As Darcy held her in thrall, drawing ever closer, one hand sliding up her arm to rest upon her shoulder, the other still grasping her hand, she felt his warm breath against the coolness of her skin and shivered in anticipation of what she knew was surely to follow. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and her lips parted. Her heart beat rapidly in her chest. It was but a moment later when she felt the exquisite sensation of his lips as they tenderly pressed upon her own. She returned the gentle pressure with feeling, and Darcy deepened the kiss. Elizabeth could not prevent the soft sigh of pleasure she breathed into his mouth as Darcy’s fingers made their way from her shoulder to the delicate flesh of her neck. She felt her knees begin to grow weak, and before she knew what she was about, she found her hands slipping to his broad shoulders. She was beginning to understand what he meant.

Chapter 7

The two unmarried gentlemen from Netherfield were prevented from meeting with the two eldest Miss Bennets until the very evening of the Netherfield ball. In addition to a seemingly endless succession of cold rain, which had lasted a full four days, both households were thrown into somewhat of an uproar—Netherfield with final preparations for food and flowers, decorations and dancing; and Longbourn with the preoccupation of gowns and gloves, slippers and silk.

Darcy, who had long been in the habit of riding out nearly every morning for the sheer enjoyment of the exercise and, lately, to meet with Elizabeth—to say nothing of the added means of escaping Caroline Bingley’s effusive attentions—instead found himself imprisoned by the inclement weather. Unable to take any pleasure while indoors at Netherfield so long as Elizabeth was, likewise, confined to Longbourn, he spent the bulk of his time avoiding his friend’s shamefully persistent sister, seeking refuge in the library or the billiard room, where he was able to commiserate with Bingley in relative safety.

Elizabeth had never derived enjoyment from remaining indoors for prolonged periods of time, particularly in the trying company of her mother and younger sisters, and found herself longing for the solitude and opportunity for quiet reflection her early morning rambles often afforded her. She sighed with frustration every time her mother scolded her for hiding herself away in her room, insisting, instead, she spend her time more productively by sitting with Mr. Collins and encouraging his unwanted attentions.

At times like these, Elizabeth could not help but think wistfully of Darcy, with his soft lips, his penetrating eyes, and his intelligent discourse, knowing full well she would much rather be encouraging his attentions. With no hope of escape, she endured her confinement with such forbearance as she could manage under the circumstances, though her patience was certainly pushed beyond its limits when a simpering Mr. Collins solicited the honor of her hand for the first two dances the following evening.

*   *   *

Happily, the morning of the Netherfield Ball dawned clear and crisp, promising an evening very much the same. Carriage after carriage rolled up to Netherfield’s front entrance, which had been illuminated by torchlight, to deposit several hundred elegantly attired guests with great efficiency. Nearly the last of the parties to arrive, the Bennets were greeted graciously by Bingley and less so by his sisters. Positively beaming, their host wasted no time offering one arm to Jane and the other to Elizabeth. Without further ceremony, he ushered them into the ballroom.

As a guest in Bingley’s home, Darcy felt it would have been inappropriate to stand with the members of the family as they greeted each of their arrivals in turn, and so chose instead to await Elizabeth’s arrival in the ballroom. Though he had been learning to mix more agreeably in the somewhat smaller drawing rooms of Hertfordshire Society, he still found it difficult to move easily among larger crowds. Darcy had never felt completely at ease in a ballroom, and as such, he reverted, however unconsciously, back into his more reserved and haughty self, taking up a station in the farthest recesses of the room, where he hoped he might garner the least amount of notice.

When Darcy saw Elizabeth finally enter on Bingley’s arm, he froze. Wearing a low-cut gown of creamy silk that seemed to cling to her inviting curves in a most flattering manner, Elizabeth was breathtaking. Her hair was arranged in a far more elaborate style than she usually wore, and intertwined throughout the mass of dark curls piled high upon her head, there were silk roses that had obviously been fashioned with great care to complement her gown.

Darcy felt he would be content simply to gaze upon her all night, but as Bingley approached and presented her to him, he somehow managed to shake off his stupor and step forward to receive her, applying a gentle pressure to her gloved hand as he raised it to his lips.

“Good evening, Mr. Darcy,” she said quietly, with a small, enigmatic smile.

“Miss Bennet,” he murmured, unable to tear his gaze from the vision of loveliness she presented, “you look absolutely stunning this evening.”

Elizabeth felt a familiar pull deep within as she returned his admiring gaze with equal feeling. “Thank you. You look very handsome, as well.” She spoke the words softly, her throat suddenly dry.

Bingley, grinning with satisfaction, left Elizabeth staring at his friend while he escorted Jane to the middle of the room to open the ball.

The first half of the evening, save for Elizabeth’s obligatory dance with an incompetent and overzealous Mr. Collins, afforded the couples much pleasure.

Bingley, who was far more captivated by Jane than he was by his role as host, threw caution to the wind by dancing as many dances with his angel as the space of one evening would allow, while trying not to cause overt offense to any of the other young ladies in attendance.