Six Inches Deep in Mud

Chapter 10

I am eagerly waiting for Elizabeth, leaning against the old oak. We met yesterday and the day before, and we should meet again today. I feel as amazed and bewitched as a young boy who is just discovering the world, and I wonder at the intensity of feelings aroused in me with each and every interaction with Elizabeth.

Yesterday, we only talked. About anything and everything. I cannot remember ever being so at ease with anyone, including my closest family. I have no doubts that she enjoys my company too; I can see how the smile on her face changes every day, how her eyes sparkle when she laughs at me. Yesterday, as we walked back home, I offered her my arm, and she took it, although I knew she needed no support to walk.

For some reason, she seems pleased with the idea of me calling at Longbourn but not that I might accompany her home. I suspect she does not want to reveal our friendship to her family, and I wonder why.

“Mr Darcy?”

I step forwards to greet her. “Miss Bennet.”

“Forgive me for being late. Things are a little busy at home. We have received a visit from my father’s cousin, Mr Collins.”

“You are not late since we did not fix upon an hour to meet. Your presence is a joy and a privilege, regardless of the time.”

That might have come out too formally, but it is how I feel. I see her smile and blush, which I absolutely adore.

She stops near the oak and leans against it to rest, mirroring my earlier position. I look around quickly and see a stump a short distance away. I am much taller, so by sitting in this way, we are almost the same height.

“I assume the prospect of a walk is more pleasant than that of your guest?”

“Absolutely. Especially this walk,” she says, and I believe her simple words make me blush.

“Mr Collins is a…very peculiar sort of man,” she continues. “My father is exceedingly entertained and equally annoyed.”

“Ah, yes. I am well accustomed to such a mix of sentiments,” I say.

“I would be most curious to see your response to Mr Collins, but I cannot expose you to such torture,” she teases me.

“That is most considerate of you, Miss Bennet.”

We are both friendly, and our conversation is light, but there is an awkward tension between us. For my part, I know why. I wish nothing more than to touch her, hold her hand in mine, and take her in my arms and kiss her. I have been yearning for that for weeks now. Out of repressed frustration, I fidget.

“This stump is rather uncomfortable. Quite wet and slippery. It is either the dew from last night or there was a frost,” I mumble.

“A frost, I expect. But we might have a shower later today,” she replies. “The clouds are coming from the southwest, and that is usually an indication of rain.”

We speak of the weather, but all I can think of is that, because of it, we might not be able to meet again tomorrow.

“I finished the book and loved it,” she declares. “I shall bring it to you tomorrow.”

So, she just arranged another meeting. I smile, relieved.

“If it rains, I shall visit Mr Bennet. You may return the book to me if you wish, but there is no rush.”

She smiles back. “I am in a rush to ask you to recommend another one.”

“Oh…I shall think about something and bring it to you tomorrow when we meet. Or at Longbourn, if it is raining.”

“Excellent. Thank you, sir.”

Suddenly, her closeness creates a warmth in me that I can hardly bear. I stand up and take a few steps forwards, for a better view over the valley, though everything I want to see is behind me.

She comes to stand next to me, and I feel my heart race. Silly heart.

“Does Mr Bingley still intend to go to London after the ball?” she asks.

“Yes. He has mentioned no change in that regard. I shall help him with his business so he is able to return within a week.”

“That is very kind of you. I know his sisters are not willing to return to Netherfield. Will he be here alone?”

Can she mean what I hope she does?

“He does not seem bothered by the notion of being alone at Netherfield since he does not feel lonely. But I might return to keep him company.”

“That would be lovely,” she says, glancing at me. “Though I am sure you wish to spend Christmas with your sister.”

“Yes, but our plans are not fixed yet.”

My plans depend entirely on her, but I do not dare say that.

“We should return home. I believe it will rain soon,” she says, and I reluctantly agree. Another lovely time spent together causes me equal delight and frustration because I wish for more but do not have the courage to ask. I am scared I might ruin what we already have, but I know I must take a further step soon. Perhaps I might move the conversation in that direction during our walk back to Longbourn.

I offer her my arm, and she takes it without hesitation, with more confidence than yesterday. I can think of nothing but her presence. I can feel her warmth, catch her scent, detect each movement of her body; I can hear her breathe, but even more, I can hear the beating of my own heart.

We take a few steps, and I am ready to speak. I am not sure what I should say, but twenty years of education with some of the best teachers in England must help me to sound reasonably articulate. Or at least not completely ridiculous.

“Miss Bennet, I…”

She lets out a loud cry, and I look at her, but suddenly something happens, and my feet are not on the ground any longer. I desperately try to keep my balance, but instead, I fall onto my back and feel a blow to my head. For a few moments, all is dark, then I realise I cannot breathe. When I finally open my eyes, my head feels whole again and my senses recovered, and I discover the reason for my breathlessness. Elizabeth has fallen with me, her face only inches from mine, her body atop my own. My mind is still hazy, but my arms close around her instinctively. I still cannot breathe, a sharp pain is cutting at my head, but I care about nothing but the sweet burden that pins me to the ground. I feel her warm breath on my jaw and — although I am not sure whether it is real or not — I sense her lips touch my skin.

“Mr Darcy! Oh, dear Lord, I am such a fool! Mr Darcy, are you hurt?” I feel her trying to move away, but I shamelessly take advantage of the confusion and hold her tight a little longer.

“I am well,” I finally reply. “I have never felt better in my life. I am not sure whether it is real or not, as I have dreamt of this moment so many times.”

Now I can see her lifting her body and looking at me from only a few inches away. Her eyebrow is arched in challenge.

“I am glad you are well enough to tease me, sir. You have dreamt of losing your footing and falling in the mud?” I finally open my arms, and she struggles to lift herself onto her knees.

I do the same, but I still feel dizzy, and standing up is more difficult than I estimated. I glance around; my hat has been thrown in the grass, and my horse is a few steps away looking at me, pulling at his reins and neighing restlessly. Elizabeth stares at him, pressing her hand to her chest. She looks frightened, but before I have time to respond, she lets out another cry.

“You are injured! You are bleeding!” she exclaims and leans towards me. We are both now on our knees, and she stretches her hand out to me. She touches my temple, then glides her fingers into my hair.

“Let me see,” she says, moving even closer. In doing so, my head is close to the junction of her neck, and my cheek is almost touching hers.

I hold my breath again. Who needs air when her scent is so intoxicating? I feel blessed for any injury that has brought her so close to me and allowed me to be spoilt by her care.

“I need something to clean the dirt off,” she says and removes her gloves. “These are dirty too,” she mumbles with distress.

“Perhaps my neckcloth will do,” I whisper, attempting to untie it.

“Allow me. Your gloves are wet and muddy,” she claims decidedly. I allow her to do as she pleases. I would allow her everything…

My entire body is burning at the sensation of her fingers fumbling with my neckcloth, touching my chin, my jaw, and my neck. She finally succeeds and says, “Can you please send the horse away? I am sorry for being so silly, but it came nearer to us and…I did not realise, and it touched me on the shoulder. I startled and that is why we fell…”

I make a gesture to my horse but, since he is confused about what has happened, I need to stand up — with some difficulty — and order him again before he obeys. In the meantime, Elizabeth has moved to my back, and she asks me to stay still. I can feel her gently brushing her fingers through my hair, then across my temple and my nape.

“I am so sorry…” she whispers. “There is a small wound… When you fell, your head must have hit a rock under all this mud. It has bled a little. I shall press the cloth to it to stop the blood. Is it painful?”

“Do not worry. It is not painful… Please do not apologise. I am sure it is nothing and will pass soon. I certainly had worse when I was playing as a boy with my cousins.”

“I do worry, and I need to apologise,” she whispers again, mostly to herself. “Silly me…”

She is still pressing the fabric to my head, and I turn slowly. We are now facing each other, her hand on my face. She is not wearing gloves, and my lips are close to her wrist, brushing over it as I move.

“I was not teasing you,” I say. “It is I who should apologise if I make you uncomfortable, but I cannot take my words back. I have dreamt of such a moment many times. Not of falling over but of holding you in my arms. Being so close to you.”

Our eyes are locked, and I can see the surprise on her face. She blinks a few times, and her lips part as if trying to reply.

“I might sound like a rake to you, but the truth needed to be said. When we fell, I intentionally held my arms around you longer than I should have. I could claim I was feeling dizzy, and I was, but it was mostly from your nearness rather than from the fall.”

“Oh…” she whispers.

“And…since I am confessing everything…a few days ago, in the Netherfield library…I was asleep, but I woke up when I kissed your hand. It began as a dream, but I knew it was real.”

She blinks again as if trying to understand my words. Her face changes colour, and her eyes seem dazed by confused feelings. She rises to her feet, her hand still pressed to my head, and I struggle to stand along with her.

“Please forgive me for being so blunt. I have been selfish and inconsiderate in saying so much without being certain that you wished to hear it. Please know that I value our friendship, and one word from you will silence me forever on this subject. We can pretend it was never mentioned.”

“I did not expect so many blunt confessions at this moment,” she finally responds in a trembling voice and with a little smile. “It was a surprise but certainly not one for which you must apologise. Quite the opposite.”

She moves her hand and says, “Let me see how serious your injury is.” She rises onto her toes for a better view, and I lean my head to the side.

“The bleeding has stopped,” she says, and we are facing each other again. “You should ask your servant to clean the blood out of the white cloth as soon as you arrive at Netherfield,” she continues. I take the fabric from her with my other hand, and in doing so, our fingers touch and entwine. I expect her to withdraw her hand, but she does not. I grab the cloth with my other hand and push it into my pocket. Looking at her carefully for a sign of opposition, I close my palm, capturing her fingers inside.

She remains still, her hand in mine.

“I do not wish you to be silenced on this subject, Mr Darcy…I believe we should discuss it at length in the next few days. Perhaps when we are sure that you are not injured or dizzy from the accident,” she whispers.

The joy I feel at her words makes my heart pound in my chest, and I am almost afraid to admit the meaning of her statement.

“I shall be grateful for any chance to speak again — today, tomorrow, whenever you wish to, and only as much as you wish to…”

Our hands are still entwined and our gazes locked. I feel her fingers moving in my palm.

“I wondered whether you were truly asleep, that day in the library,” she says.

“I was at first. When you put the blanket around me, I believed it was also a dream. Just like this one…”

“Do I cause you to fall in all your dreams, Mr Darcy? It certainly appears so,” she teases me.

Her eyes are now sparkling with a smile that turns her lips up too. If only she knew what sort of dreams I had, she would likely never speak to me again. I might tell her one day if the future allows me to reveal to her the intensity of my love.

“Not in all my dreams, Miss Bennet. And while you remember the falls, I remember only the happiness of being close to you.”

From an impulse that I cannot control, I open my hand, freeing hers, which remains in mine.

“But I am now fully awake,” I say. Slowly, allowing her time to protest or to remove her hand, I lift it and place my lips upon her palm. I hear her gasp, but she makes no attempt to prevent my tender gesture. Our eyes still locked, I move my lips and press them to her wrist. I dare to taste her skin for only an instant. My lips linger there for another sweet moment.

“We should return home now, Mr Darcy. It will rain soon, and we have stayed longer than usual.”

“Yes…my perception of time is different from reality,” I admit.

“So is mine,” she agrees.

“Come, let me escort you to Longbourn.” I put her hand on my arm, then place my other hand over it. Again, she does not oppose it.

“As always, we shall separate at the crossroads. We cannot allow anyone to see us in such a terrible state.”

This time I agree; anyone who saw us wet and covered in dirt would assume the worst.

“I feel so silly for being scared of your horse.”

“As selfish as it sounds, I am inordinately grateful for your fear of horses,” I confess.

“Strangely, I am too,” she agrees with laughing eyes.

“Bingley said he would call at Longbourn tomorrow. I would like to join him, so we might not have time to meet in the morning.”

“I shall be happy to see both you and Mr Bingley at Longbourn.”

We walk in silence until we reach the place where we had agreed to separate. I do not know what to do. I wish to do and to say so much more, but should I?

She withdraws her hand from my arm but still seems hesitant to leave.

“Sir, please promise me that you will ask your valet to examine your injury and send for Mr Jones if it bleeds or hurts again.”

“I promise.”

She is still hesitating, even though the sky has filled with clouds and rain is threatening.

“Mr Darcy, there is something I must reveal to you too. I am already ashamed of my words, and I shall deny that I ever said them.”

I am sure my surprise is obvious as I wait for her to continue.

“Earlier, when we were on the ground and you held me tight…I thought you would kiss me.”

My mouth is dry, and I feel my eyes widen in disbelief, while her cheeks colour crimson. Then, to my utter and complete amazement, she lifts up onto her toes and places a quick kiss on my right cheek. I move my head, and her mouth brushes over mine for a moment as short as the beat of a heart. Then with a last impish look, she turns and runs away from me.

Stunned, afraid of my own joy, I stand still, watching her until her silhouette disappears. Then I climb into the saddle and turn my horse — what a wonderful ally he proved to be! — towards Netherfield, indifferent to the rain that is now pouring down. I am quite sure that I have never enjoyed anything so exquisite and tasty as the flavour of Elizabeth’s lips, and whatever the future brings us, nothing will be more valuable than her first kiss, generously granted to me.