Chapter 9

Looking around the study, Lizzy understood why this room would be a sanctuary for Mr. Darcy. In the corner, there were French wines and fine Madeiras next to a crystal brandy decanter and snifter glasses. Despite the wars raging on the Continent, Mr. Darcy had somehow managed to procure wine and brandy from France, or, more likely, Mercer knew someone who had bought the banned spirits from smugglers slipping into the numerous coves on the Channel coast.

Next to the sofa, there was a table reserved for The Times of London as well as some French newspapers. Another table had a stack of newspapers published by Cambridge University, his alma mater, and she wondered how he had managed to attend university without someone taking notice of his disappearances. She knew that he often attended cricket matches, but surely it was not possible for him to have been a regular player on the Cambridge team or someone would have noticed his fur coat.

That is not funny, Lizzy, she thought, chiding herself.

She then walked over to examine the jewel in the crown of Mr. Darcy’s study: his book collection. One whole wall was floor-to-ceiling bookcases, and after picking up a candle, Lizzy scanned the titles. The collection included the complete works of Shakespeare, the Iliad and the Odyssey, Isaac Newton’s Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica, bound copies of Poor Richard’s Almanacs, and the collected works of Cicero and Ovid. Sharing the shelf with the work of poets from Pindar to Cowper was the fiction of Sterne, Defoe, Richardson, and Fielding. One of Fielding’s titles, An Apology for the Life of Mrs. Shamela Andrews, was unfamiliar to her.

Taking the first volume out of the case, Lizzy inquired of the absent Mr. Darcy, “Perhaps I could borrow this book when you are busy doing other things?” Lizzy started giggling. Her silliness was a result of nerves, fatigue, and fear of the unknown. What could she possibly say to a man returning to hearth and home after spending two nights in the woods as a werewolf?

“Maybe a glass of sherry would help to steady me.” She was reaching for the bottle when she heard a noise on the far side of the room. There was a sliding sound and then another, and Mr. Darcy stepped out of the shadows. He was barefoot, his hair unkempt and his shirt open to his waist. In other words, he was magnificent.

As soon as he saw the fire and candles, he froze, and Lizzy froze as well. His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the room, and her heart went into her throat. She barely managed to croak out, “Mr. Darcy, it is Elizabeth.” But rather than her voice reassuring him that he was in no danger, her presence seemed to displease him, and he told her to come into the light.

“What are you doing here?” he asked in an emotionless voice that contrasted sharply with the fire in his eyes.

“I am very sorry, sir. I have made a mistake.” She started to walk backwards away from him, but before she could reach the door, he grabbed her roughly by her arm. Now she was truly frightened. “I want to go,” she said, and after seeing the fear in her face, he released her.

“Please do not go. I did not mean to hurt you. It is just that it takes some time to stop being one thing and to start being another. I usually have a brandy and wait for a half hour or more before I go upstairs to bathe.”

“Shall I get you a brandy before I leave?” This had been a terrible idea, she thought, as she tried to calm her racing heart. She had no idea what was involved in his transformation from wolf to human. Maybe it was exhausting or painful. Why hadn’t Mercer warned her? Probably, because he did not know. He would rightly have waited for his master to come to him.

“Thank you, but I will have a brandy later. Right now, I would prefer to talk to you.” He gestured for her to sit down, but she shook her head no. Understanding her nervousness, he tried to calm her. “You look very pretty. I don’t think I have seen that frock before.”

“It is just an everyday dress—not something that your sister would ever wear,” she answered while trying not to act frightened.

“Regardless, you still look pretty in it.” He looked at her sideways and stepped closer to her. “Your hair is wet.”

“Yes, I took a bath. What I mean is, I took your bath—the one Mercer had prepared for you.”

“Well, that is a pleasant image.” Darcy could hear her take in a gulp of air. “In this flickering light, I cannot be completely sure, but I believe you are blushing.”

Every inch of Lizzy was blushing. Why had she told him that she had taken a bath in his tub in his room? Not knowing how to respond, she answered, “You smell like mint.”

After he stopped laughing, he explained that he always ate mint before he returned to the house, but he did not mention the reason. It was to cover up any lingering odor from a kill. But that was not the case tonight, as his anxiety about Elizabeth had resulted in a loss of appetite, and even when Nell had offered him some of her rabbit, he had declined.

“So you look pretty, and I smell nice. Now, what shall we talk about?”

Lizzy bit her lip. What should she say? “On the terrace, we said that we needed to talk,” she answered, looking away from him toward the fire. “Perhaps later today.”

“Your memory is faulty, Elizabeth,” he answered, refusing to follow her gaze. He would not be distracted. “You placed your head on the back of my neck and said, ‘Mr. Darcy, what are we to do?’ Not ‘you’ and not ‘I,’ but ‘we.’ So now I ask you, can you accept me for who and what I am?” Then he hesitated. “But, perhaps I already know the answer. There was no candle in the window last night, and I know that because when I was not with you, I kept that window in my view from dusk until dawn.”

That statement sounded very much like an accusation, and if it was, he was being unfair. How could she possibly have signaled him that all was well when it was not?

“I still do not understand. Why me? When we first met, you found me so unappealing that you could barely tolerate my company.”

“Quite the contrary,” he answered, shaking his head. “I was completely taken in by you and your impertinence, and it was because of my attraction to you that I pushed you away. I did not want to fall in love and risk being turned down when you found out about my altered state. I had imagined so many times how you would look at me when you found out, and, yesterday, I saw it for myself. You were repulsed, and I cannot blame you. But you must remember that I did not choose this way of life. It is a hand I have been dealt, and I do the best I can under the circumstances.”

“But your proposal at Hunsford Lodge? If you wanted me so badly, why were you so insulting?”

Darcy put his hands on both of her arms and pulled her gently toward him. “After being with you in Hertfordshire and seeing you at Rosings, I wanted you more than I have ever wanted anything in my life, and it took every ounce of my courage to go to the parsonage that day. But in the back of my mind, I knew that you would reject me because I was a werewolf, and so I went on the offensive.”

“So you made that obnoxious proposal so that I would reject you?”

“Yes, in that way I would not have to reveal that once a month I become a creature of the night. Logic is not my strong suit.”

“I should say not.”

Darcy started to laugh. “You see this is why I love you. You have such spirit and independence. You will not be put down by anybody—not by me or Caroline Bingley or my aunt Catherine. You are fearless, and after love and loyalty, that is what I prize most. So now I will tell you that I love you, and I always will. But if you cannot accept this reality, then we shall say good-bye, and even though I risk losing a good friend in the bargain, I shall not call on Charles Bingley at Netherfield Park for fear that I might see you. I may be part wolf, but I am still a man with a heart, and it can be broken.”

Lizzy closed her eyes and felt the stillness of the room, and in the quiet, she could feel his love filling every part of her being. And then she knew—beyond a doubt she knew—that she would stand by this man no matter what.

“There is no window in this room, Mr. Darcy, but here is the candle.” She picked it up, and it illuminated them. With a shaking hand, he took the candle from her and placed it on the table, and he brought her to him. But as he felt her body against his, his passion overtook everything, and he picked her up and took her to the sofa and lay on top of her. As he moved against her, his warm lips kissed her mouth and neck, and then his fingers reached for the buttons on her dress. While he was attempting to open the tiny pearl buttons, she pushed him as hard as she could, and he fell off her and onto the floor. Although she was nearly panting from passion and exertion, she managed to sputter, “Mr. Darcy, you must not. I am a maiden.”

“I know. But I don’t mind.” He tried to get back on the sofa, but she stopped him with her foot.

“No, it is not all right. It is my intention to leave this room in the same way I came in. And what do you mean you don’t mind? You would never marry someone who is not a maiden.”

“I would if the former maiden was you, and I was the reason you weren’t.” There was that half smile that had so charmed her—the reason she had forgiven his objectionable behavior at Hunsford and why she had allowed him to come to Longbourn time after time even though he would depart without making her an offer of marriage.

“You see, it does not matter,” he said, and the fire in his eyes returned. “There are few advantages to my situation, but one of them is that I am the freest of creatures when I transform, and because of that, I see how stupid society is with its suffocating rules. In my world, I am bound only by my loyalty to my pack, that is, my family. All of this nitpicking nonsense invented by people who need something to fill their idle hours does not matter.

“In the wild you deal with the reality of the moment. There are no such things as artifice and lies, and so I speak what I feel. Right now, I want to tell you how much I love you and need you and want to make love to you. I want to taste and touch every inch of your body and…”

“Mr. Darcy, please,” Lizzy said covering her ears, but placing her hand over her ears did not stop what was happening to her physically.

“Mr. Darcy!” he cried. “Mr. Darcy! There is another damnable convention—no first names are permitted,” he said in extreme frustration. “Call me Fitzwilliam or William or Will, I answer to all three, but do not call me Mr. Darcy, especially when we are alone together as we are now.”

“Very well. Fitzwilliam, William, and Will, I am going to bed.”

When she started walking toward the door, he called after her, “Would you like to see my scar?”

That statement caused her to stop, and she turned to look at him. “Your scar? Do you mean from when you were bitten? But you said the bite was on your, um, your rump.”

“Yes, it is. Do you want to see it?” And there was that devilish grin again.

Lizzy’s mouth dropped open. “Certainly not.”

“You are not curious?” Lizzy shook her head vigorously. “Elizabeth, before you say anything else, there is something you should know. Because I am part wolf, all of my senses are heightened, and I can tell what you are feeling and where you are feeling it.”

“Oh, my God!”

“Exactly. I know that you want me as much as I want you.” He started to close the distance between them.

“Yes, I would like to see your scar,” she quickly said in order to stop his advance, and when he started to open his breeches, she closed her eyes.

“You may look now. You see, it looks fresh, but if you touch it, it is smooth.”

Lizzy looked at his muscled buttocks, and she felt a jolt go through her, and after looking at his smirk, she knew that he was aware of her physical response, and she tried to focus on his scar.

“There is not much to see, is there?” she said, trying to modulate her voice. The scar was bright red, and barely a half inch in length, and without thinking how inappropriate her action was, she placed her finger on it and found that it was as smooth as he had said it would be. “I do not understand. It has healed, but it looks as if it just happened.”

“I know. It is a curious thing.” After pulling up his breeches, he said, “Now where were we?”

“I was making good my escape,” she said as she moved closer to the door. “You may not care if I remain a maiden, but I most certainly do.” Lizzy scooted past him, opened the door, and practically ran across the foyer. She was halfway up the stairs, when he called after her.

“Lizzy, I have not yet proposed.”

“Oh, my love,” she sighed, “that is the first time you have called me Lizzy.” She started to go downstairs, but then stopped because she knew what would happen.

“Will you not come back so that I may ask you properly?”

“No, I shall not. Ask me after breakfast when you have shoes on and your breeches buttoned.” She blew him a kiss before running up the stairs, and Darcy fought the urge to go outside and let out one of his loudest and longest howls.