Mr Bingley was able to bring Darcy with him to Longbourn before many days had passed after Lady Catherine's visit. The gentlemen arrived early; and, before Mrs Bennet had time to tell him of their having seen his aunt, of which her daughter sat in momentary dread, Bingley, who wanted to be alone with Jane, proposed their all walking out. It was agreed to. Mrs Bennet was not in the habit of walking; Mary could never spare time; but the remaining five set off together. Bingley and Jane, however, soon allowed the others to outstrip them. They lagged behind, while Elizabeth, Kitty, and Darcy were to entertain each other. Very little was said by either; Kitty was too much afraid of him to talk; Elizabeth was secretly forming a desperate resolution; and perhaps he might be doing the same.
They walked towards the Lucases, because Kitty wished to call upon Maria; and as Elizabeth saw no occasion for making it a general concern, when Kitty left them she went boldly on with him alone. Now was the moment for her resolution to be executed, and, while her courage was high, she immediately said,
"Mr Darcy, I am a very selfish creature; and, for the sake of giving relief to my own feelings, care not how much I may be wounding yours. I can no longer help thanking you for your unexampled kindness to my poor sister. Ever since I have known it, I have been most anxious to acknowledge to you how gratefully I feel it. Were it known to the rest of my family, I should not have merely my own gratitude to express."
"I am sorry, exceedingly sorry," replied Darcy, in a tone of surprise and emotion, "that you have ever been informed of what may, in a mistaken light, have given you uneasiness. I did not think Mrs Gardiner was so little to be trusted.'
"You must not blame my aunt. Lydia's thoughtlessness first betrayed to me that you had been concerned in the matter; and, of course, I could not rest till I knew the particulars. Let me thank you again and again, in the name of all my family, for that generous compassion which induced you to take so much trouble, and bear so many mortifications, for the sake of discovering them."
"If you will thank me," he replied, "let it be for yourself alone. That the wish of giving happiness to you might add force to the other inducements which led me on, I shall not attempt to deny. But your family owes me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe I thought only of you."
Elizabeth was too much embarrassed to say a word. After a short pause, her companion added, "You are too generous to trifle with me. If your feelings are still what they were last April, tell me so at once. My affections and wishes are unchanged, but one word from you will silence me on this subject for ever."
Elizabeth, feeling all the more than common awkwardness and anxiety of his situation, now forced herself to speak; and immediately, though not very fluently, gave him to understand that her sentiments had undergone so material a change, since the period to which he alluded, as to make her receive with gratitude and pleasure his present assurances. The happiness which this reply produced, was such as he had probably never felt before; and he expressed himself on the occasion as sensibly and as warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed to do. Had Elizabeth been able to encounter his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him; but, though she could not look, she could listen, and he told her of feelings, which, in proving of what importance she was to him, made his affection every moment more valuable.
They walked on, without knowing in what direction. There was too much to be thought, and felt, and said, for attention to any other objects.
After a measureless passage of time, they found themselves in a small clearing in the woods, away from the well-trodden, familiar paths. Elizabeth at last turned to face Darcy. She now saw the warmth which his eyes bestowed upon her. Her own dark eyes flashed and her cheeks suffused with a heat that matched Darcy's.
Elizabeth was fortunate to be possessed of a fine figure. Her slim waist had no real need for the corset which all young ladies wore. But the whalebone stays pushed her breasts upward in a way that she knew most men found delightful. (Her dressmaker had confided to her that this season all the society ladies in London were wearing their décolletage so revealingly low). Her breasts were neither too large nor too small; round and perfectly formed, with palely translucent, flawless skin.
Elizabeth was well aware, facing the tall Darcy, that his view could not help but be drawn to her bosom. Placing her hands firmly on her hips she drew herself to her full height, which had the effect of revealing the pale pink aureoles of her nipples strained against the fine lace trim of the taut bodice of her dress.
Darcy seized her by the arms -- a precipitate action which added a further stress to her clothing and caused her breasts to be released, with a springing bounce, from their constraint. Mortified, Darcy stepped back, but Elizabeth, having come so far and through so much turmoil of emotion in the ebb and flow of her relations with Darcy, would have no more of his reluctance. She wrapped her arms around him and pressed her naked breasts against his manly chest.
"Dearest Miss Bennet," stumbled Darcy. "What must you think of my intentions?"
