Darkness Falls Upon Pemberley Read Free Page A

expression of utmost distress.
    Elizabeth raised one hand to her neck, where her trembling fingertips sought the garnet cross nestled at the hollow of her throat. She swallowed thickly, caressing the pendant in an almost methodical fashion before grasping it tightly in her fist. The expression she wore as she turned and addressed her father simmered with defiance.
    “While I will always understand your concern and Jane’s, and can even appreciate your interference on occasion, I assure you, sir, both have been entirely unnecessary this evening. There is no danger to be found here. Mr. Darcy is perfectly safe.”
    Before either man could so much as blink, she had turned—a whirling dervish of dark silk, pale skin, and raven locks as she strode across the room and out of the door.
    In that moment, Darcy wanted nothing more than to turn on his heels and follow her, to soothe and console her, and to contradict her preposterous presumption, for he knew perfectly well that, so long as he remained in her vicinity, she was far from safe with him.
    But she was not the only one in harm’s way, for Darcy had known for some time that he was in very great danger himself: in danger of falling completely and irrevocably in love with her; but propriety—and a drawing room full of people, including Elizabeth’s father—kept his feet rooted to the floor.
    Propriety, propriety… Damn propriety!
    Darcy silently cursed himself. So far propriety had afforded him nothing but vexation, discontent, and misfortune. His frustration and anger—at Mr. Bennet; at his own intolerable situation and his utter uselessness to Elizabeth—peaked. If anyone deserved to be reprimanded for impropriety, it certainly wasn’t the slip-of-a-woman who’d managed to turn his entire world upside down in a mere handful of weeks.
    Elizabeth had conducted herself with decorum during every single encounter they’d ever shared, and Darcy respected and esteemed her highly; but the thoughts and desires she unwittingly provoked in him were another matter entirely. Although he’d never voiced or acted upon them—nor would he ever, he knew, unless she willingly gave her consent to be his—he could not deny that his powerful inclinations toward her were…ungentlemanly, to say the least. His intentions, however, remained nothing but honourable.
    Throughout the course of his lifetime Darcy had felt passionately about many things, but that passion was always tempered by an equally strong desire to remain in staunch control of his emotions; to think, and speak, and act in a rational manner at all times and in every circumstance. As a child, self-control was something he’d taken great pains to master; something repeatedly insisted upon and ingrained in him by his parents. Self-control was something the master of Pemberley prided himself on and possessed in abundance—prior to setting foot in Hertfordshire, that is.
    Seemingly without ceremony Elizabeth Bennet had captured his notice, claimed his heart, and caused his inherently passionate nature to flare hotter than a bonfire. With each passing day, whether Darcy had the pleasure of her company or not, she’d managed to make his careful self-control wane to a disturbing degree. Some might even call it perilously close to non-existent. At times it was all he could do to keep his head on his shoulders and his ardency for her in check.
    The unwelcome sound of Mr. Bennet clearing his throat returned him to the present. While Darcy could hardly fault any father for being vigilant with his children, he felt Mr. Bennet’s circumspection was, in this instance, severely misplaced. The man had mortified, demeaned, and injured one of his few truly respectable daughters when his efforts would have been far better employed endeavouring to prevent his youngest two—and occasionally his wife—from flirting so shamelessly with the officers.
    With a dark countenance he turned toward Mr. Bennet. Though determined to remain