Mr. Darcy the Confidant

Chapter 1

Elizabeth's nightdress slipped from her shoulder exposing her porcelain skin underneath. She was practically glowing in the candlelight; it made her eyes glimmer with a love and passion he had never seen before. Love? Is that what it was? His breath hitched as the hopeful thought crawled into his head. Darcy's breathing quickened as she took a few steps towards him. He couldn't believe his eyes, she looked like the very incarnation of beauty itself. Her gown was held up by one shoulder, and her long, brunette hair, which was usually pinned up in a bun, was cascading down her back. Several tendrils of hair were framing her face; caging in those fine, dark eyes. And then when he thought he could take no more, she slowly lifted her hand, and ever so slightly touched his neck. He was sure she could feel his neck quiver under her touch and gaze, he tried to quell the desire in his heart, but it was to no avail. He wanted her. Every piece of her, her heart and her soul, her mind and her body. He wanted to hold and treasure her forever. To make her life wonderful, and in doing so to make his own incredibly marvelous. His wondrous thoughts were interrupted as she began to speak.

"Fitzwilliam." He shuddered at the use of his Christian name, never had it sounded so nice. He stared intently at her, not wanting to miss anything that escaped those beautiful lips. She moved forward so that her lips were resting on his ear.

"I love you." She breathed barely audible. He didn't move. It was what he had been waiting to hear. He had yearned for this moment, and it was here. He turned his head ever so slightly, and lifted his fingers to her chin. She lowered her eyes, and her black lashes met at a contrast with her ivory skin. He smiled at her coyness, before slightly lifting her head. Her eyelids fluttered open, and for an intense moment they stared at each other, memorizing every feature and feeling. He dropped his eyes to her lips, and trembled with anticipation. She closed her eyes once again as consent to his silent question. They each leaned forward….

Darcy jolted in his bed, and took a sharp intake of breath. He had done it again. For the third night in a row he had dreamed of Miss Elizabeth Bennet in a most inappropriate way. He let out his shuddering breath as disappointment set in. He was so close. So close to kissing her, and showing her how much he cared. Each night he had dreamed the same dream, and each night he woke up right before the best part. He rolled onto his side, and looked at his window; the moonlight was pouring in. A gentleman does not dream of a lady in that way, he mentally scolded himself. Tomorrow would be his last day at Netherfield, and he would endeavor to put Miss Elizabeth out of his mind.