Love Calls Again Read online

Panting for breath, he attempted to penetrate her mouth with his tongue until she parted her own lips and allowed its entrance. He inspected every corner of her mouth, measuring his own spicy flavour for her to taste. He tasted her, too. Both his manhood and his tongue seemed to be employed in the same occupation – to enter her. Only, the first was prevented from its endeavour by the massive protection of her gowns and the concealing effect of his trousers. He furthered his ministrations until, in an uproar, both of them moaned and sighed and trembled all at the same time.

  ~•~

  Mary and Mr Forester had inspected every corner of the ball room, when Mr Bennet approached them from behind.

  "Mary?" her father called out.

  "Papa. May I introduce you to Mr Forester? Mr Forester, this is pa… my father, Mr Bennet."

  The young man bowed to the older man who was introduced to him, his air grave and stately, his manners very formal.

  "Delighted to make your acquaintance, sir."

  Mr Bennet looked up at the tall man uncomprehendingly. It was the first time in his life that he had seen his daughter, shall we say his exceedingly boring and plain daughter, Mary in the company of a gentleman. Mr Forester was, as already stated, a tall, heavy-looking man of five-and-twenty, with pleasant eyes and a grave voice. A most conscientious and polite sort of person, well disposed to make new acquaintances but rather pompous in his style, which reminded Mr Bennet of Mr Collins.

  "Papa, Mr Forester is…"

  "Yes, yes," her father interrupted her. "You must excuse us, sir. May I have a word with you, Mary?"

  He took his daughter by the elbow and directed her towards a secluded corner.

  "I am afraid your sister is not in the ballroom, Mary. I fear she is somewhere in the garden," He whispered, sounding rather disturbed by the possibility.

  "In the garden? But it is freezing outside."

  "Indeed it is. But for some reason unbeknown to us, Mary, some people find cold an insufficient excuse to keep them indoors. Your sister seems to be one of them. It must be so for we have checked everywhere except the garden."

  "Do you fear she might catch a cold, papa? But so shall I if I go in her quest in such cold weather!"

  "It is not cold I dread she might catch, but fire, my dear."

  "Fire, papa? I fail to comprehend your meaning."

  "It is of no consequence, my dear. Just go and find her."

  "Do you wish me to go and inspect the surrounding gardens, papa?"

  "Aye, do, do. I will ask your sister Jane if, by any chance, Elizabeth is indisposed in one of the upstairs rooms. Do you think your new friend could be persuaded into a stroll outside?"

  "I think he might."

  "Well then. Tell your friend you wish to have some fresh air. Something is telling me he would be delighted to oblige you. Let us go, now." He began to walk towards his daughter Jane, when he stopped and, stepping back, he whispered to Mary's sole hearing once more. "And Mary. I trust in your absolute secrecy."

  Mr Bennet was right. Mr Forester was too happy to oblige Mary with a stroll outside.

  "Are we still in quest of your sister?" he inquired in a hushed manner.

  "As a matter of fact we are. Though there is nothing to fear. 'Tis only that my father wished to have a word with her and could not wait till later. Perchance she felt suddenly indisposed and asked my sister Jane to lie a bit in one bedchamber upstairs. My father is checking on that."

  "So, your eldest sister is Mrs Bingley, I gather. Then, we are related in a way."

  "Are we? How so, sir?"

  "I take it you are acquainted with Mr Hurst. He is Mr Bingley's brother-in-law."

  "Only a little bit."

  "That gentleman is my mother's brother."

  "Oh, I see. He is your uncle. So, I imagine in a way we are related."

  Mr Forester and Mary soon forgot the reason that had taken them to walk in the cold weather, so engrossed they had become in their conversation. Soon, Mary found the crook of his arm a source of warmth for her freezing hands. While they rambled about the garden, Mr Forester endeavoured to ask Mary's permission to call on her in the following days. Mary was happy to accept.

  ~•~

  Ever so slowly Mr Darcy relinquished his grip on Elizabeth's body and kissed her softly behind her ears and her neck. Her feet reached solid ground, and he placed his strong arms around her waist.

  "My love, my sweet love. Elizabeth, I love you so dearly," he breathed tenderly.

  Her generous bosom was heaving wildly, and in rising and falling at breathing it afforded an enticing sight, tempting Darcy to succumb to its charms. It was like an open flower full of pollen to a bee. He could no longer resist the call of his predatory instincts and he plunged into the fantastic adventure of her cleavage.

  So enchanted, so excited was he by the sweetness of the moment, so much the delicate perfume of her skin had got into his senses that he forgot about the grave perils of such an inducement. In the cold room her pert nipples were easily guessed under the silk of her dress, and it took a slight movement of his fingers to reveal the hardened orbs into his full view. Time, propriety, decency, all these were shamelessly cast aside while he was holding her in his arms like so. She was all that his heart had ever desired.

  He was all that her heart had ever dreamt. Kissing ravenously, gently sucking, licking the soft skin of her breasts took Darcy to the point of no return. Elizabeth arched her body in a complete surrender, throwing her head back to allow him a more comfortable access to her bosom.

  He was thus most agreeably engaged, when a sudden movement of his arm dropped a vase which fell on the floor with a violent crack, startling the lovers for an instant. That was enough to break the spell.

  She immediately covered her naked bosom while he fought to regain composure. The embarrassment of the moment was too much for Elizabeth. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever imagined she would allow a man to go so far. Least of all a married man. When she looked up at him, she could not repress the tears welling in her eyes. Softly, she began to cry.

  "My love, please do not cry. I cannot endure it. Please, Elizabeth. I love you. Please!"

  In her inability to contain her sobbing, Elizabeth tried to hide from him. Turning around, she put both her hands over her face and cried bitterly.

  "Why?" she said softly. "Why did you do this to me?"

  "Elizabeth, I love you. I am sorry. I was only…"

  "If you loved me, you would have never done this! You are not my husband no matter how much I should wish you were!"

  "Elizabeth! You could have been my wife. You… You rejected me!"

  "Indeed, sir. It was I who refused to be your wife. Yet you came back to me."

  "Yes, I did. You know perfectly well why I did. I came back because I loved you then as much as I love you now."

  "If that is so, then why, may I ask, did you not tell me of your love before you married? What made you so shy of me when you first called, and afterwards dined at Longbourn? Why, especially, when you called, did you look as if you did not care about me? You made me love you, only to leave me."

  "Elizabeth, you would not even look at me, how was I to know? You were grave and silent, and gave me no encouragement."

  "But I was embarrassed."

  "And so was I."

  "You might have talked to me more when you came to dinner." "A man who had felt less might."

  She did not answer that, but stared intently, painfully into his sad eyes. She understood the truth of his words and could only feel hurt and mournful at her stupidity.

  "What did you come down to Netherfield now?" she inquired, rather mystified, though she knew the answer only too well.

  "My real purpose was to see you," he confessed, "and to judge, if I could, whether I might ever hope to make you love me. I understand of the iniquity of my musing, and ultimately made up my mind to abandon such an idea and merely endeavour to see you, to catch a short glimpse of you at a safe distance. Still, when I caught sigh
t of you, I compleatly lost myself. I am sorry if I caused you pain. I still love you, with all my heart. You know I wished to marry you."

  "You married your cousin," she stated coldly. She was just about to add: And now I am to marry Colonel Fitzwilliam, but words failed her and she spared him the pain.

  "You…" he did not know what to say. She was right. He had come back, wooed her, but gave up in fear thinking she was not responding to his attentions. Defeated, he took a step back, lowering his head in silent acquiescence.

  In the end he gained composure and tried to explain. "I was unsure, terrified that you would say no again. I guess my pride would not tolerate your rejection a second time. I chose to suffer from your absence rather than acknowledge you did not love me. I made a terrible mistake."

  "Indeed, sir. A most unfortunate mistake," she said bitterly.

  "Elizabeth. You love me?"

  "Sir, I cannot afford to love you. You are a married man and I am not ready to add to the shame my family has already been subjected to by the unrestrained behaviour of one of my sisters. No, sir, I cannot afford to love you."

  "I did not ask if you could afford to love me. I would never risk your honour in a shameful relationship. I know we have little choice but to part and live our lives best as we can. Yet knowing that you loved me would make it tolerable at least."

  "Mr Darcy, I see no good in answering your question."

  "Then you do not deny you love me?"

  She was silent for a while, looking studiously. "No, sir, I do not deny it."

  Twelve

  —

  Regrets and Mortification

  Mr Darcy had never been more confused in his life. Evidently, his brain was swimming in a pool of alcohol, and it was getting increasingly difficult to follow the thread of the conversation. Still, his own voice sounded convincingly sober to his ears, though discerning reality from dreams was a daunting exertion. He believed he had heard Miss Bennet say something of great importance, yet he needed confirmation.

  "You do not deny it," he repeated, seeming doubtful.

  "You must understand this does not change our situation," she explained demurely.

  "You love me," he concluded in amazement.

  "Please, sir. Allow me remind you that we must regain composure. I cannot permit you any further intimacy with me. I… ayyy!"

  "You love me!" he pulled her to him and whirled her around in dire happiness.

  "Mr Darcy! Put me down!" she protested, struggling in an endeavour to make him lower her.

  "Elizabeth. You have made me the happiest of men," he finally said while restoring her to the ground.

  "Mr Darcy, you do not know what you are saying." Elizabeth brushed her lap nervously, trying to undo the serious wrinkles in her skirt.

  "Probably not," he admitted lightly. He reckoned he was too much in his cups to be able to consider the seriousness of his actions. Still, he continued with his admission. "Yet the mere notion that you hold me in your regard, Miss Bennet, that alone shall pronounce me a happy man." He pulled her even closer to him and kissed her fully on the lips, this time without passion. A sweet, tender kiss of love.

  Truth be told, Elizabeth was melting in his arms. She simply seemed to belong there, in his melting embrace. Much as she had resolved to put a stop to his endearments, she had not the ability to find the strength to bridle either her or his emotions.

  "Pray, Mr Darcy, I beg you. This is not correct," she implored demurely. Breathing with difficulty, her whole body trembling, Elizabeth struggled with her inner passionate self.

  "Release me. Please, sir." she said unconvincingly.

  While absorbed in a delightful trance, Darcy concentrated on placing feathered kisses on her cheeks; his lips temptingly brushed the corners of her mouth. He entangled his fingers in her curls, playing dreamily with them, as he continued administering delicious kisses on her neck.

  "You love me," he whispered to himself, still mystified. Darcy's breath came in short gasps and words began to stumble with his tongue, drowsy in his amorous ardour. "My love. My sweet Elizabeth." Elizabeth pushed him lightly placing her hands on his chest.

  "I am sorry. I feel I must be ashamed of my behaviour."

  Darcy looked shocked. "I cannot feel ashamed of mine."

  "Mr Darcy, you must let me go. Please. Someone might see us, sir. What will become of me then?"

  He immediately released her. She was absolutely correct. Inebriation notwithstanding, Darcy could still appreciate they were not wearing their masks any longer. Although it was pretty dark in the orangery, the light from the full moon promised to reveal their identities to any passer-by.

  "I am awfully sorry, ma'am… Elizabeth… Miss Bennet. These months have been intolerable to me. I came here with the mere prospect of contemplating you at a safe distance. But you see what has happened. The moment I saw you, I compleatly lost myself."

  "Sir I… I fear I must go."

  "Eliz… Miss Bennet. Please stay. You must allow me to beg your forgiveness. I feel I have become the man I used to abhor. Yet you must know my feelings. The agony of your absence can only be compared with the torment of your tantalising presence. Neither am I ready to face." He had lost his dark gaze now and was looking at her intensely with puppy eyes, begging insistently for the bliss of the moment to continue at least a short moment longer. His demeanour was tearing Elizabeth's heart.

  "Mr Darcy, you must understand this conversation is not taking us anywhere. There is nothing we can do to remedy the situation."

  "I am well aware of that," he sighed profoundly. "Still, dearest Miss Bennet, I believe I owe you. You must know, surely you must know of the depth of my affections for you. I confess I meet you in my dreams every night. This is not the first time I have kissed you." His dark eyes came back to her visage, and Elizabeth felt he was undressing her shamelessly with them. "I make you mine every night. You never leave my bedchamber at night." Yet again with a pitiful voice he wailed: "And in the morning when you are gone, I found you in every corner of the gardens we have been together when you visited me in Pemberley."

  "Oh sir, stop. Please, for my sanity, stop!"

  "Elizabeth, I beg you. Say… say you love me. I must hear the words from your lips. I beg you." His voice pleaded, and his eyes urged her. "I shall never lay a finger on you again. But please, tell me that you love me." He took one step back to show her that he had said that in earnest.

  "No! You do not understand! This is intolerable. How can you expect me to live with this!" She managed to dodge him and headed for the door, tears trickling down her cheeks, sobbing bitterly.

  Darcy darted towards her and grabbed her elbow, deterring her from exiting.

  "Please! Let me go!"

  "Miss Bennet!" there was urgency in his voice, and he let go of her. "Pray, do not misunderstand me. I do not mean to detain you. You can go if you wish. 'Tis only it is not prudent for you to go out unless you are wearing your mask." His voice was calm and soothing. He handed her said piece of cloth and his handkerchief. She looked at both items in confusion. Taking the handkerchief, Elizabeth wiped her tears, breathing deeply in and out, endeavouring to relax.

  Darcy watched her mournfully, shifting from one foot to the other in a nervous gesture. When she was finished and her sobbing had subdued, he resumed his speech.

  "Before we go out, however, let us part on good terms. We have friends in common and surely will see a lot of each other in the incoming years. We must…"

  "We must refrain from seeing each other, sir," she interrupted hastily. "It will not do. I shall endeavour to keep myself as far from you as possible."

  Darcy fixed his eyes on hers apprehensively. "That will be unsupportable. I must see you. For my sanity. I beg you, I shall depend on at least hearing from you often, Eliza," he implored.

  "Mr Darcy. You have just said you would not endeavour to make a mistress of me, yet you are planning to see me in the near future… Oh Lord! What you must think of me!"


  "Ma'am! I am not planning such a thing. You are the only woman I have ever loved. I shall never love any other. I would never offer a relationship of that kind to you, my love. I am here to protect you from any harm or pain. You must understand I wanted to marry you. To make a mistress of you is unthinkable."

  Elizabeth lowered her visage and stared intently at the hem of her dress. Darcy leaned his gaze in search of her eyes. He locked his hands at his back to refrain from touching her again.

  Darcy took a deep breath before he continued talking. "Miss Bennet, I only wish to see your face from time to time, to be apprised of your whereabouts, to have a notion of your welfare. 'Tis all I ask."

  "Sir, it will be our ruin." Goodness, if only you knew… After what had transpired between them, to think merely of being compelled to face both Darcy and Fitzwilliam together was paralyzing. No, she must make him see reason. They must not see each other again, especially after her nuptials.

  "Pray, Miss Bennet, I beg you."

  "No, I beg you! Promise you will not seek my company again. Promise you will refrain from talking to me! You must promise me you will not come to me any more!"

  "I cannot promise that!" he cried out. The mere prospect of being deprived of any intelligence of her was unsupportable. "Do you not understand what you are asking from me? You can just as well ask me to promise not to breathe any more, not to taste water to calm my thirst! You are dearer to me than my own my life. Without you I can no longer live."

  "Mr Darcy, you have said enough! I must beg you to stop addressing me in this manner. You must see reason!"

  Even in his drowsiness, Darcy realised he was losing ground. He decided a change of strategies was mandatory.

  "Very well. I am at your mercy. What do you propose?"

  Elizabeth tilted her head in surprise. At long last he was being reasonable. She clasped her hands in a nervous tic and bit her lower lip while pondering what to say.

  "We must avoid each other as much as possible," she almost spat out.

  "I understand. Shall I detach myself from Mr and Mrs Bingley, too?" he asked with a patronising smirk.

  "Yes. No!"