It's in His Kiss Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title page

  Description

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Dear Reader

  About the author

  It’s in His Kiss

  A Pride and Prejudice Short Story Variation

  By

  Lady Waller

  Copyright © 2017 by Lady Waller

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Lady Waller

  No part of this book may be reproduced by any written, electronic, recording, or photocopying method without written permission of the author. The exception would be in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews and pages where permission is specifically granted by the author.

  This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblances to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.

  §

  Can one kiss melt the frost in Elizabeth Bennet’s heart towards Mr. Darcy? What if instead of writing a letter explaining his disapproval of Mr. Wickham, he’d explained himself further after his marriage proposal and subsequent confrontation with Elizabeth in Hunsford? Take a journey into a reimagined scene with our dear Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.

  §

  Chapter One

  A Bold Explanation

  Darcy pulled the door shut firmly behind him. To shut it in a way that would break the hinges from their place or splinter the edges would admit that Elizabeth had bruised him beyond repair. He had lost nothing in her refusal. There had been no audience from which to rebuke and chastise his offer of marriage other than her. Whilst he did not know the woman as well as he had thought, he knew her well enough to infer she would never spread gossip of what had transpired between them in Mrs. Collins’ sitting room.

  He had lost nothing. Or he had lost everything.

  Her eyes. The eyes upon which he had become so infatuated with had held in him in the lowest esteem. The intelligence, the warmth, all of those qualities had hardened with her anger. The opinion she had of him as a man and as a suitor was of the dregs of polite society. Lower than a swine.

  How was he to know he had caused heartbreak for her sister?

  After several strides towards Rosings, he stopped. If they were to never cross paths again, he wished to see those lovely brown eyes once more, perhaps less the hatred they had possessed. He circled the house twice and worked up his nerve to spy. Ungentlemanly behavior at best, but he admitted he would never break the spell of Elizabeth Bennet and the effect she had over him.

  The light glowed from the tiny window of the sitting room. A warm breeze tickled his nostrils. Please let her still be there. He envisioned her sipping tea and reading a book, comfortable with her objections to his foolish proposal. Instead, he found her in a heap on the floor. Her skirts a blue puddle around her waist. Her shoulders shook with sobs, and her hands covered her face.

  Tightness surrounded his heart and squeezed without mercy. Their passionate confrontation had affected her. His hands twitched at his sides, but he pushed away the urge to comfort.

  What type of monster was he to make her cry so? She had come to her sister’s defense the same as he would come to his own. And what false tales had the unscrupulous Mr. Wickham spread about the Darcy family?

  There was not a chance he could change the past words between them, or the actions he had taken to prevent her sister’s union with Bingley, but he could erase one of his faults from her list. She may not see him worthy of her affection, but he would not allow her to see George Wickham a worthy recipient of that love either.

  He rang the bell for a second time that evening and a maid allowed him access through the front door. They would not have many moments of alone time, and he would need every second to persuade her of Mr. Wickham’s falsehoods.

  He opened the door, and the hinges creaked in an announcement of his presence. Elizabeth hurried to her feet, and her hands moved over the silver serving tray until she found a lace-edged napkin to blot her eyes.

  “You return so soon?” she asked, her chest heaving as she controlled her crying. “Have we not said enough to each other to last many months? Years even?”

  “I do not wish to see you in pain,” he said, closing the door behind him. He held her gaze, her tempestuous eyes reminding him of his task.

  “I assure you, sir that the pain is of my own making. I have never allowed myself to fall into such a disagreement with another person aside from my mother.” After a final blot, she crushed the napkin in her hand and balled her fists together at her waist, the fire in her spirit always present. “Why have you returned?”

  “You spoke of your beloved sister, and while I cannot amend that grievance, I shall speak of mine.” He gestured to the chair. “Please sit and allow me but a few more moments of your time.”

  “If you are to stand, then so shall I.” Her posture straightened, and her chin tilted a fraction higher.

  His lips twitched at her defiance. “My sister Georgiana is sweet and fair and far too trusting.”

  “She lacks your distaste of people? Bravo.”

  “Georgiana has learned in a firsthand manner to hold her trust for those who have earned it.”

  Elizabeth’s shoulder’s slumped, the weariness of their altercation showing through. “And how does this affect our situation, Mr. Darcy?”

  After their last encounter, how could he find it so difficult to express himself? The air surrounding them filled with anxiety. “Your Mr. Wickham lost Georgiana’s trust when he attempted to elope with her hoping to gain her thirty thousand pounds.”

  Elizabeth gasped. “But she is so young.”

  “Fifteen at the time. And was quite vulnerable to his charms. Not to mention embarrassed in the aftermath. I ask that you never speak of it in her presence for it would cause her great shame to know I have spoken of it with you.”

  Elizabeth backed up to the chair behind her and sat down. “Please continue.”

  “I am guilty of every grievance which has passed your lips, save one. Mr. Wickham is indeed a vile scoundrel. There are possible truths to his story even if it is a twisted story he weaved. My father loved him as a second son, and upon his death bequeathed him funds. But this is where the tale goes awry.” Darcy paced the length of the room. “I did not prevent him—”

  “Eliza, dear!” Mrs. Collins’ voice rang out from the outer rooms, preventing him from continuing. “Are you feeling better?”

  Mrs. Collins entered the sitting room, but stopped when she saw him. She curtseyed, and he returned her greeting with a short bow.

  “Mr. Darcy, I did not realize we would be entertaining your company.” Mrs. Collins pulled off a glove and moved to stand beside Elizabeth. Her brow knitted as she glanced between them.

  Elizabeth turned to her friend, her composure belying nothing of her current mood. “Mr. Darcy has invited me for a walk in Rosings Park’s garden tomorrow morning. I have accepted.”

  Darcy drew in a deep breath, elated he had won additional time with her. He bowed to both women, afraid if he stayed a moment longer, she would change her mind. “Until tomorrow, Miss Bennet.”

  Chapter Two

  A Walk in the Garden

  The next morning, her fingers shook, and she tried to make her appearance presentable for her upcoming walk with Mr. Darcy.

  Sleep had not come easy for Elizabeth. More than once she had started a letter to Jane only to rip it in half and throw it into the fireplace. Theirs was a conversation that needed to be held in person.

  “Shall I help you with your hair, dear Eliza?” Charlotte hovered near the door, wringing her hands before her. Her younger sister, Maria
, skipped down the hallway past them.

  Elizabeth pulled at the wild, curly strands. Her anxiety at the forthcoming garden stroll lowering since Charlotte’s continued to be so high. “There is no help for it, I am afraid.”

  “Would you like to wear the new bonnet Mr. Collins bought me a few months’ ago? The gold ribbon will enhance your eyes. He took great pride in presenting me with it. I have yet to have an occasion to wear it. A walk through Rosings Park’s garden would be a perfect debut.” Charlotte dashed down the hall before Elizabeth had a chance to respond.

  How kind of her friend to worry in a motherly fashion, but if she knew the real reason behind her next encounter with Mr. Darcy, Charlotte would certainly dissuade her from attending. Yet, Elizabeth could not stand for half a story. If Mr. Wickam was indeed a vulture in peacock’s plumage, she wanted all the evidence laid at her feet.

  “Here it is,” Charlotte huffed, the exertion stealing her breath.

  Elizabeth thanked her friend and situated the bonnet on top of her unmanageable hair.

  “Mr. Collins and Maria are waiting for us downstairs. They will accompany you to Rosings.”

  Elizabeth gripped the ribbons tight in her hands. “But why? I have met with Mr. Darcy many times on my walks within Rosings with no one to oversee us.”

  Charlotte took the ribbons from her hands and tied them in a neat bow beneath Elizabeth’s chin. Her expression turned chastising. “With such a formal invitation, Mr. Collins couldn’t possibly allow you to attend a walk with Mr. Darcy unattended. Lady Catherine would expect a chaperone.”

  Elizabeth twisted her lips and held in a groan. As a guest, she could not argue against Mr. Collins attending their walk, but would Mr. Darcy continue his story with the parson so close in attendance?

  “Mrs. Collins! He’s in the garden. I see him across the way.” Mr. Collins’ boots made clomps back and forth the through the entryway downstairs. He yelled up again, “Ms. Bennet, I beg you to please not keep the man waiting. Her ladyship would expect better manners.”

  Elizabeth descended the stairs and grasped at Charlotte’s hands once they gathered in the foyer. “Will you attend as well?”

  Her hopes of giving Mr. Collins a distraction faded as Charlotte shook her head.

  “I have been asked to attend Miss De Bourgh this morning. However, I will keep you in my good thoughts.” Charlotte leaned in close to whisper. “Are you positive this is a walk you are interested in taking?”

  “Quite so. I am afraid I have been rather harsh as to Mr. Darcy’s character.”

  Charlotte squeezed her hands tight before releasing them and added a bonnet to cover her hair. “Careful, my dear. That confession sounds as if your affections are turning tide.”

  Warmth spread up Elizabeth’s neck and through to her cheeks. To change her mind once it had been set surprised her as well. There was still the issue of his separating her sister from Mr. Bingley, but perhaps when he finished his Mr. Wickham story, he would have a better explanation for that.

  Charlotte looped her arm through Mr. Collins’ extended elbow. “Shall I walk a portion of the way with you?”

  Mr. Collins glanced at his wife with nervous affection, but affection nonetheless, and gave her a brisk nod. Elizabeth saw the advantage of peering beneath the surface of first meetings although this would be a thought she would forever keep private from her dearest friend. Mr. Collins and Charlotte were well suited, and it gave her an insurmountable amount of hope to see her friend content.

  If all the Bennet girls found contentment in their future husbands, it would be a true blessing.

  Elizabeth followed along behind the couple beside Maria, fervently glancing ahead for a sight of Mr. Darcy. The scandal of his poor sister’s treatment by Mr. Wickham did not intrigue her as much as how Darcy himself had handled it. He had once spoken to her of his temper. She needed to know how a man who rarely bestowed his good opinion on others would bestow his ultimate dislike.

  Mr. Wickham had tricked them all. How could such a pleasing disposition hide such a scheming heart?

  Charlotte broke away from the group and followed the path to the manor. Elizabeth tucked behind Mr. Collins to avoid conversation which would most certainly detail his attributes according to the affable Lady Catherine.

  Darcy met them at the edge of the gardens, and he bowed curtly to Mr. Collins. His gaze captured Elizabeth and the warmth from earlier returned. She’d noticed the intelligence in his eyes the very first time she had seen him at the assembly, but never had she noticed the passion simmering beneath.

  She curtseyed in greeting and Darcy bowed again. An awkward silence fell upon the group.

  Elizabeth glanced at Mr. Collins before she addressed Darcy. “Are you a fast walker, Mr. Darcy?”

  He surveyed Mr. Collins, and Maria’s shorter legs, and finally nodded his understanding. “I have been asked from time to time to slow my stride.”

  Elizabeth slipped her hand above his elbow, bestowing him with a half-smile. “I can assure you, I shall not ask you to slow your stride this morning.”

  They kept a steady gate until they had put a slight distance between themselves and Mr. Collins.

  Elizabeth glanced back to make sure her words were not heard. “Will you continue your story from yesterday, please? I wish to know the truth of Mr. Wickham.”

  Darcy tilted his head towards her to keep his voice low. “I worry that even with the distance between us, I shall be overheard and the story shall reach my aunt.”

  She continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “Let us use nom de plumes then to hide their true identities. Our villain shall be the Fox and our lady in distress shall be the Swan.”

  “Fitting names. Who shall I be?”

  Unable to resist a tease, she sniffed. “You shall be the Stag.”

  He looked straight ahead, his eyes focused on the path in front of them. “I have no doubt you have firsthand knowledge of how easy it is to succumb to the Fox’s compliments. He is all too pleasing in manner and appearance.”

  “I cannot deny your words,” she answered. “Though they have a slight accusation attached to the tone.”

  He continued, “The Swan is more trusting than any girl I have ever met, and I have never known a sweeter disposition. Having sheltered her most of her early years, her mother poorly prepared her for the whims of men.”

  Elizabeth barked out a dry laugh. “I should say most girls are ill-prepared for the whims of men.”

  Both of his eyebrows lifted, wrinkling his brow and merriment danced in his eyes. “Will there ever be a time when you do not immediately say what comes to mind?”

  “I shall keep my lips sealed until you finish the story, but I cannot promise which words shall tumble out after.” She pressed her lips tightly together.

  “The Stag’s father passed no more than five years ago, and since he always held a fondness for the Fox, in his will he left him one thousand pounds. The Stag’s directions were to see him set up in a good profession, or if he took orders, to assist him with a good wage. Only after a year did the Stag hear from the Fox who had decided against taking orders and wished to study law.”

  “Hmm…” She murmured.

  Darcy’s lips almost made it to a full smile. “Holding your words is a challenge I see. But onward with our story. He asked for more than the one thousand pounds granted in the will, and the Stag had the highest hopes for him to take the money and leave them be, and so he agreed to three thousand.”

  “Hmph.”

  A hacking sound pulled their attention to the man following them. Mr. Collins coughed and wheezed. Maria patted him on the back with two hard whacks. When he finished, he pointed to his mouth. “A bug. I think I swallowed a bug.”

  Elizabeth held in her laugh and moved Darcy forward. “Please continue.”

  “Another three years passed, and he wrote again to say he was in dire straits and asked for more money.”

  “I hope you—erm, the Stag refused.”
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  “Yes, and in an attempt to seek vengeance, he turned his sights on the Swan. She had been set up in town with a lady whom we did not suspect had prior dealings with the Fox. The lady in charge of the Swan allowed the Fox to visit her, and he soon convinced her they were in love. If the Swan had not held the Stag in greatest affection, she may not have told of their elopement plans. I intervened, but kept the entire affair private.”

  “I have changed my mind. He is not a fox, he is a boar.”

  They walked in silence for several moments, Elizabeth taking in the story he had presented. How easy to misjudge character when one did not have all the facts. She rubbed her thumb along the edge of his coat. Could she concede that Darcy may have acted against her family with the noblest of intentions for his friend? Even if she did not agree with the outcome?