Free Truth about Mr. Darcy by Susan Adriani

mother’s high-handed machinations just yet. There was much she felt she needed to learn about Darcy, and she was determined to discover it away from the prying eyes and embarrassing scrutiny of her nearest relations.
    ***
    The late November morning was a particularly fine one. Elizabeth, now well past the pale to the entrance of her father’s estate, broke into a run as she hurried toward Oakham Mount. She should have set out a full quarter of an hour earlier but had found herself unhappily detained by Mr. Collins, of all people. To her growing irritation, with the passing of each week he spent in Hertfordshire—and, indeed, his initial plan had been to spend only one—the odious parson somehow managed to extend his stay. How his patroness could possibly spare him for so long baffled Elizabeth exceedingly; though, if Lady Catherine found her clergyman’s ingratiating attentions half as offensive and tiresome as the young ladies of Longbourn did, it was no wonder she would encourage his absence. Thank Heaven for dear Jane and her unending patience with that man! Elizabeth sent up a silent prayer of gratitude for her angelic elder sister, all the while hoping Darcy would still be waiting when she arrived.
    Elizabeth was surprised to admit the last fortnight had been one of the most enjoyable she had ever spent. She had faithfully—and secretly—managed to meet with Darcy every morning, and on many occasions, they found themselves reunited again in the afternoon or evening, either at small, informal gatherings or at dinners given by one neighbor or another.
    At first, Darcy was hesitant to approach her when in company and reluctantly resigned himself to the possibility that he would be forced to find consolation in the form of his old standby—staring at the woman he loved with undisguised longing from across the room—but, to his immense delight, Elizabeth no longer seemed to be of a mind to stay away.
    Having gained a better understanding of Darcy’s taciturn disposition and his haughty composure when in company, Elizabeth made every effort to draw him into conversation with her friends, her neighbors, and the few truly intelligent members of her family.
    Much to Darcy’s surprise, he discovered that under Elizabeth’s keen and solicitous guidance he was beginning to relax his stoic mien and even enjoy himself with the people of Hertfordshire. But Darcy found he was never so much at ease—he had never felt so accepted nor so valued for his own merits and contributions—as when he was alone with Elizabeth on their early morning rambles.
    Elizabeth turned onto the path leading to Oakham Mount and immediately discerned the familiar figure whose presence she had come to welcome, even anticipate, as he leaned against a tree. She took a moment to study him while he twirled a strand of dried hay between his fingers, seemingly lost in thought. Even in such an informal setting—or perhaps in spite of it—Darcy presented a striking picture. Elizabeth raised her hands to her hair, smoothing any stray curls that may have escaped the confines of her bonnet. She struggled to calm her breathing and then, repressing a smile of pleasure, made her way toward Darcy.
    A wide smile overspread his face as he beheld her—her cheeks aglow from the exertion of her morning exercise. It took less than an instant for his mind to begin contemplating how she might look after having partaken of another form of exercise—that of writhing beneath him in ecstasy as he plundered her lips and pleasured her body, claiming her as he so fervently wished to do, forever as his own.
    She extended her gloved hand to him as she approached, and he took it, lifting it to his lips and bestowing upon it a kiss. His eyes never left her lovely face.
    Elizabeth found herself blushing as his ardent gaze almost seemed to reach inside to caress her very soul. After several long minutes of silence, she managed to find her voice. “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. I