Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12 Chapter 11 Elizabeth was up bright and early the next morning, feeling the need for fresh air after taking her morning tea with Jane. She had not slept well last night, and more than ever she wished to leave Netherfield sensing they had long since worn out their welcome. While strolling along the garden paths, she happened to overhear two very familiar voices on the other side of the hedgerows, speaking in earnest. “Miss Bennet is more than well enough to return home,” Caroline retorted crossly. “What could be the meaning of her staying on? I’m certain, Mr. Darcy, that after Eliza’s abominable behaviour last night you must surely be tiring of our guests by now.” He made no answer. “I do believe, dear sister,” Louisa said, “that Mr. Darcy rather enjoys a saucy exchange. Could you not tell?” They both laughed. Darcy walked on, staring straight ahead, again without a word to either. His jaw was set firm, and his eyes bore the distinct look of displeasure simmering just below his cool exterior. “Besides,” Louisa added, glancing from Darcy to Caroline, “I’m sure they don’t mean to impose upon your generosity, Sister. For if our mother had been anything like theirs, would you not have wished to stay away for as long as you possibly could? And the younger sisters—always chasing the officers—what do their parents mean by letting them out so young?” Again laughter rang out. Elizabeth drew in a quick breath and clenched her fists. Anger burned in her chest as hot tears stung her eyes, and she seriously considered making her presence known. But then, thinking the better of it, she quietly turned and took the opposite path, making her way for the kitchen so that she might enter the house discreetly. Fortunately, Sam, who was running in the garden beside her, did not give her presence away. It was as if the dog knew and understood her distress. He approached her, wagging his tail with a soft whimper meant only for her notice. “Not now Sam. It will not do,” she said, fighting back her resentment. “I have other concerns occupying my time. Perhaps you might venture to Longbourn someday, and then we can play at our leisure, disagreeable mother and unruly sisters notwithstanding.” She glanced down at the dog, so willing to please. “Oh, Sam! If only your master was as agreeable as you. Then I would not feel half so offended, but he is not. I wonder, Sam, what must he be saying now that he has free rein to speak his mind and with such a willing audience to hear it. Insufferable man!” She stomped her foot, and then paused to stroke the dog’s head. “I wish all men were as good and faithful as dogs, but alas, they are not, and I have arrived at my destination. Goodbye, Sam,” she said with a deep sigh as she reached the back door to Mrs. Ayers’ kitchen. The dog nudged her hand, seeming to understand, and gave one quick bark before he darted away, his attention soon diverted by the scent of a rabbit hopping across the vegetable garden. ~*~ The state of affairs was not at all as Elizabeth had presumed, and had she remained long enough to hear Darcy’s rebuttal, she might have found her feelings less affronted. But unfortunately, as it was, she was neither privy to the pleasure of his response nor the comfort she might have received upon hearing it. ~*~ Darcy’s patience with Bingley’s sisters was wearing thin, to say the least, but for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, he would keep his emotions under good regulation for fear that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley be given something else to talk about should he express what he really felt. Reconciling himself to the situation at hand, he released a frosty breath and attempted to alter the direction of the conversation, which he knew had been for his benefit, by raising it to a higher level. “Miss Bennet,” he said at last, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, “is considerably better, I grant you, but I beg to differ with your assessment of her situation, Miss Bingley. The quiet of Netherfield is far better for her full recovery than the noise of Longbourn.” Darcy paused, and then deciding he would answer some of the Bingley sisters’ accusations, he cleared his throat and spoke, “And as for her sisters early coming out, well, all I can say on that subject is that the manners in the country are vastly different from those of Town, and while they might not be to your refined taste, I see no harm done in the setting in which they reside. What is there in a country dance to be despised—a few flirtations—a small number of smiles exchanged?” He released another deep breath. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will return to the house.” “Louisa, if I did not know him better, I would say he is utterly smitten by Miss Eliza. Surely you do not think—” “Perish the thought! You know as well as I Mr. Darcy will only marry from among his own circle He will not choose a country nobody. His honour forbids it! The future Mistress of Pemberley will be a lady of the highest quality—one who has all the polished refinements which are only available from the finest finishing schools and to those who can afford it, such as ourselves. You, dear sister, must learn to control that sharp tongue of yours, or you may lose every advantage you have gained through our brother’s friendship with such an illustrious man.” The two sisters looked at one another for some moments and then took the more often used path back to the house. Climbing the steps to the portico, they entered and walked towards the breakfast parlour. ~*~ Elizabeth rushed into the kitchen and asked for a tray to be sent to her sister’s room where they would take their morning meal together. She then asked the housekeeper to give her regrets to the family, saying she felt a slight headache and would not be joining them for tea. Before she could leave, however, Molly approached her and curtseyed. “If you please, Miss Bennet, give my regards to your ailing sister. I hope that she’s feeling much better this fine morning, and tell her that I shall have her hot broth to her room directly. Manny had to fetch a fat chicken this morning as the beef bones were all used up.” Elizabeth laughed and smiled kindly. “I shall tell her, Molly, and thank you for being so caring as to ask after my sister. It is very thoughtful of you.” “Oh! It ain’t nothing, ma’am. I’d be just as concerned over me own sister—if’n I had one, that is.” “You have no siblings then?” “Oh, no ma’am! I surely do! Me lot is to have five strapping brothers and all of them younger than me at that. Me da’ says that if the Good Lord is willin’ and the river don’t rise that me ma may yet have another and that one might be me sis, for I so wish for a sis. I would be a good older sis—just like you.” Elizabeth smiled again and shook her head. “I am absolutely sure you would. You are a good girl, Molly,” she said, and then turned to leave the kitchen. Making her way to Jane’s room, she ran directly into the path of Mr. Bingley, who, having just had word from Mrs. Nicholls, enquired after her health. “I am fine; I thank you sir,” she said with a curtsey, “I have only a slight headache which I think some warm porridge and a cup of coffee will soon set to rights. I sometimes feel unwell when I walk out so early with nothing but tea on my stomach.” “But of course, Miss Bennet. I do understand. It is a common occurrence for me as well. Give my warmest regards to your sister, and we shall see you directly.” “Ay, sir. I most assuredly will.” She dropped another curtsey. Returning to Jane’s room, she pressed her sister for an agreement that they should return to Longbourn this very day, though she kept the exchange she had overheard in the garden to herself. “Lizzy, if it pains you to such an extent to stay longer, then I think we should go. I realize Caroline is not pleasant to you. I can see the way her eyes follow you around the room, especially when Mr. Darcy engages you in conversation, but I do not think she means—” “Jane! You do not know the half of it. Miss Bingley is very much opposed to me, as I to her. Let me just say that our feelings are mutual, and she need not worry where Mr. Darcy is concerned; for I am sure he prefers her company to mine any day.” Elizabeth turned and spoke privately, “And she can have him for all I care!” Releasing a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder to Jane as she took a seat at the desk in their room. “I shall pen Mamma a note and send it directly. I must beg that the carriage be sent for us in the course of the day.” After posting the message, an hour had not passed before her letter was answered. Elizabeth tore into it with alacrity. Lizzy, what do you mean requesting the carriage? Nonsense! You and Jane must remain at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which will exactly finish Jane’s week. I will not hear of you returning a moment sooner, and should you come, you can expect no welcome from me. It is by design that I have Jane at Netherfield and by design she shall stay until a full week has passed. Now, find some excuse to remain, for there is no advantage to either of you here. Yours, etc. Mamma PS: if Mr. Bingley and his sister should press you to stay longer, I could spare you both very well. Stay another sennight. Elizabeth shook her head as she folded the letter and placed it in her pocket. In regard to staying longer, she was positively resolved against it—nor did she much expect it would be asked. On the contrary, she was fearful that if Miss Bingley had anything to say about it, the opposite would be the case. Furthermore, from the conversation she had overheard just a few hours earlier, she knew she and Jane were considered to have intruded needlessly long already. She glanced at her sister and released a sigh. “Mamma wants us to stay, but I think we should not. We must leave as we discussed, for I am impatient to be in my own room in our own house. I cannot abide remaining here a moment longer.” “Then we shall request a carriage from Mr. Bingley, for I have a desire to go home as well.” Jane paused and looked away. “Lizzy, I know this is not proper. I feel it keenly, and I cannot accept it any longer. We shall indeed go.” ~*~ After the breakfast tray was removed, Elizabeth descended the stairs and found the party in the morning parlour taking tea and discussing the day. “Mr. Bingley,” she said, approaching him with some hesitation. “Jane is much improved, and I believe the time has now come when my sister and I must return to Longbourn, and furthermore, since my parents cannot spare the carriage, it is my express wish that we may beg for the use of yours.” “Oh, but you mustn’t leave! I will not hear of your leaving and neither will my sister,” he said, turning to Miss Bingley. “Caroline, tell Miss Elizabeth that they must stay longer.” “No, we cannot. I—” “But you must stay till the morrow at least,” he cried with quickness. “Caroline…?” “Yes,” Caroline began with less enthusiasm than her brother, “I would not think of your leaving. Miss Bennet must stay at least another day. I insist upon it,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes. Elizabeth sighed, realizing that, though his sister might not be so charitable of heart, Mr. Bingley’s wishes were genuine and heartfelt. She could not refuse the pleading so vividly expressed in his soft blue eyes. “Well,” she said at length, “if it is agreeable to Jane, then it is agreeable to me, but, for one day only. We are needed at Longbourn to help with the herbs and dried flowers. They must be put away in the herb house with special care, and I’m afraid I am the only one who can oversee the job properly. And then Jane must oversee the distilling of the oils.” Word was sent to Jane who did agree for an extension of one day, and their going was, therefore, deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had acquiesced to her brother’s pleadings and proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other. The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and throughout the course of the day, repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered and should stay another sennight. He stated that the herb harvest could wait another week, but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right. When Mr. Darcy returned from the stables, he found the family in the morning parlour having tea, lamenting Miss Bennet’s coming departure. Filling his cup, Darcy walked away and stood by the window, gazing out onto the front lawn. “Well, it is settled,” Caroline stated. “The Miss Bennets shall depart for Longbourn on the morrow after church.” She turned to Darcy and walked to where he stood. “I suppose,” she said approaching him with glee in her voice, “that you, sir, will be missing a pair of fine eyes.” Darcy showed no emotion as his teacup clattered in its saucer. “No, quite the contrary, I assure you.” Stepping away from the window, Miss Bingley smiled and glanced at her sister who raised her cup to her lips and smiled back. Bingley was engaged with Hurst, who grumbled about another round of sport for the day, but the sky looked of rain and the idea was soon put to rest in favour of another topic which rose to take its place. Standing there alone while the others chattered back and forth, Darcy continued to sip his tea while he watched Sam go out across the lawn on a hunt, nose to the ground, tail to the air. For his part, Darcy was well pleased with the news, as it was welcome intelligence to him; Elizabeth Bennet had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked, and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her and more teasing than usual to himself. He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity, sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the course of their stay must have material weight in confirming or crushing it. Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and even though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look in her direction, yet he was keenly aware of her presence by the lavender fragrance that always followed her. Elizabeth, for her part, was much relieved that Mr. Darcy paid her no particular mind one way or the other. She had long since grown tired of their tit for tat, back and forth, verbal sparring, parsing each other’s words with meticulous detail. Mr. Darcy believed himself to be of superior breeding with worldly experience and intellect that far outreached hers. She would choose to let him think as he desired. Turning the page in her new book, she would not even glance in his direction, keeping carefully to her own volume, though the lingering scent of sandalwood and myrrh followed him, making concentration on her tome difficult to say the least. ~*~ On Sunday, after morning services, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, finally took place. Darcy had observed throughout the course of the morning that Miss Bingley’s civility to Miss Elizabeth had increased very rapidly, as well as her affection for Miss Bennet. In fact, she was positively capricious, and when they finally parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former. Darcy smiled at the duplicity of it all as he noted how Miss Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits. All appeared to be joyful. Only Bingley, it seemed, was not so well pleased as he lamented the loss of Miss Bennet’s company. From his bedroom window, Darcy had watched it all. Never in his life was he so glad to see someone go as he was Elizabeth Bennet. He could not deny that she attracted him, nor would he deny that, with very little provocation, he could have her hand if he wished it, and that was reason enough to put an end to his fantasy, even if she was the flesh and blood replica of the wood nymph that often visited him in his dreams. It was time to put away childish desires and behave as a responsible man of his station. ~*~ Upon entering the gate at Longbourn proper, they were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble to Mr. Bingley by requesting his carriage and not adhering to her commands. She was sure Jane would have caught cold again, but their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them. He missed them dearly and had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation and almost all its sense, with the absence of Jane and Elizabeth. They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough base and human nature, and had some new extracts to admire and some new observations of thread-bare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday: several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married. And so the merry party was once again established at Longbourn. ~*~*~*~ Chapter 12 Soon after the ladies of Longbourn had departed Netherfield Park, Darcy found that he sorely missed Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her pert opinions though he would scarcely admit it to himself, and most certainly not to any member of the household. He aimlessly wandered about the house expecting to hear her merry laughter or the sound of music coming from the drawing room but only silence hung in the air. More times than he cared to remember, he entered the room where they had spent many hours only to find it empty, devoid of anything pleasurable. Unfortunately, Miss Bingley noticed his melancholy, for she and her sister enthusiastically approached him as he stood aimlessly by the pianoforte and begged that he join them in the gardens for a stroll. He declined. Instead, he gathered his volume of Sir Thomas More and left for his room where he could read in peace. But even as he read through the passages of philosophy and critical thought, he found himself wondering what Miss Elizabeth would think of More’s opinion of first one subject and then another, as he knew she most certainly would have a judgment of her own. Finally, bored with Sir Thomas More, he gently laid the volume aside and went to find Hurst and Bingley in the hopes of engaging in some sport. Perhaps shooting would relieve his growing anxiety. ~*~ The next morning, Darcy was even more restless, and after his morning meal, he decided exercise was in order. Taking his gun, he set out with Sam, riding hard and fast over the pasture lands, exploring all they could find. At the border of Longbourn and Netherfield, Sam caught the scent of a deer, which man and dog proceeded to hunt for several hours, but the animal proved too elusive for them and thus was granted a reprieve to forage in the forest for another day. Wandering through the wooded paths, Darcy and Sam soon found themselves atop Oakham Mount. Trotting into the open area where he and Miss Bennet had met once before, he glanced around, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. Sam, he knew, was looking for her as well, sniffing every trace of the open meadow where they had on one occasion played, but Darcy was rather pleased that she had chosen not to walk out this particular morning, for he had no real wish to meet her here and had no idea why he had come, except that he had followed his dog. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head as he dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby low-hanging branch. “Well, Sam, here we are. You miss her don’t you? Well, I suppose I miss her, too, but we must not tell anyone.” Sam barked and frolicked about. Sighting a stick, he fetched it and laid it down at his master’s feet. “So you want to play just as you did with her, do you? Then play we shall.” Darcy reached down and picked up the stick, throwing it as hard as he could across the field. Sam dashed after it. “I cannot marry her,” Darcy spoke chidingly to himself. “It would be unsupportable. I must think of my sister and prospective heirs—my children. With a mother like hers and family in trade, they would never be accepted in the top tiers of society. Am I willing to give up everything it took generations to build…I, the grandson of an earl?” He looked down at the unpretentious dog wagging his tail as he once more laid the stick at his feet. “What do you say, Sam? Would you like to breed with a mongrel—a dog that is not a foxhound? Of course you would take no thought not to. You’re a dog, and if a bitch is in heat, you would most certainly avail yourself of the opportunity.” Sam barked almost angrily. “Yes, I know Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter and not a dog, but what of her mother? That is one woman, Sam, that I cannot abide. Once my circle met her, I’d be the laughing stock of all of London.” Darcy reached over and stroked his dog’s head. “You do not care for such things, do you? And perhaps I should not either.” Remembering what he had thought to himself many months ago, he spoke again. “Yes…I did say I would propose in an instant if I were to ever meet a woman who could fulfil my desires, but when I said that, I did not intend for it to be someone from trade or with Miss Elizabeth’s inferior connections. She is so decidedly beneath me in all things that matter in my world—and need I mention what my family would think? It would be an abhorrence which my better judgment has always opposed. No, Sam,” he glanced at his dog as he tossed the stick once more, “I cannot give over to my own foolish desires with one reckless decision. I have a duty and an obligation to the Darcy name, and I cannot forget it.” Sam did not hear the last of his master’s words as he was long gone once the stick left Darcy’s hand. “It is just as well,” Darcy muttered under his breath while he moved to retrieve his horse. “I’d just as soon talk to you, Calibus. You’d be just as likely to understand my dilemma as Sam.” Darcy chuckled. “I must be fit for bedlam. I have just had conversations with first my dog, and now my horse.” The horse whinnied and raised his head as Darcy turned him towards Netherfield. “Come,” he said, giving a shrill whistle for Sam. “Let’s go home.” ~*~ Five days had passed from the time when the ladies of Longbourn had departed, and since his outing with Sam, Darcy had put away thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet and stilled his emotions, placing them under good regulation while finding other things to occupy his mind. That was during the daylight hours, but at night, in the quiet of his room, it had been another situation entirely. There he could not even open his favorite book without images of Miss Elizabeth and their spirited conversations dominating his consciousness. He smiled softly as he relived each and every conversation while he sipped his brandy and smoked a cigar. There was no way to deny what his heart spoke to him: she was the perfect woman in every possible way. He took a deep breath and raked his hand over his face. “What are you going to do, Darcy? You want her like you have never wanted a woman before.” He glanced around the room as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “Am I in love?” he asked himself. He threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. “The thought has crossed my mind—and more often than I would like at that. Good God, what am I going to do?” “Excuse me, sir,” his man said, stepping into the room, “Could I get you something before I retire for the evening?” Darcy looked up, his eyes fixed on the older gentleman standing before him. “Yes…you can.” “And what might that be, sir?” “Advice,” he answered. “Advice, sir?” “Yes,” Darcy said, matter-of-factly, “advice.” The man cleared his throat, stood straight, and nodded. “Winfred Cunningham, my good man, have you ever been in love?” “In love, sir?” “Yes…in love. Has a woman ever captivated your thoughts so that you think of nothing else but her?” “Yes, sir. I was once in love.” “Did you marry her?” “Yes, sir, I did and was quite happy whilst it lasted.” “And…what, if I might enquire, happened?” “She died in childbirth four and twenty years ago last December—the third to be exact.” Darcy furrowed his brow. “I never knew.” “No, sir, I never told you.” “And you never remarried?” “No, sir. I have never seen the need to marry since my Molly. The thought of replacing her was reprehensible. I could never conceive of it. When you have loved and been loved in return, sir, you will understand.” “Loved…” he breathed out on a whisper. “May I be so bold as to speak freely, sir?” “Speak.” “Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet the object of your affections, sir?” Darcy laughed. “How very perceptive of you.” His gentleman cleared his throat yet again. “Sir, if I may be so bold for a second time, I would speak and offer you my humble opinion on the matter.” Darcy raised a brow and motioned with his hand. “By all means, speak!” Stepping away, his man walked about the room. After several moments of contemplation, he turned and fixed his gaze upon his master. “Mr. Darcy, love is a many splendored thing. It’s like the roses that bloom in Pemberley’s gardens in early summer, fragile and lovely with a sweet fragrance, giving a man a reason to live. It is the costly jewel set in a golden crown that makes a man a king in his own home, and it is also an illusion that many seek but few find. But, however, if you are fortunate enough to find the right female to accompany you through life’s difficult pathways, then you are indeed blessed and should seize the opportunity at once, for love is rare—precious beyond all comprehension. Do not let it slip through your fingers, sir, or be the fool who thinks one woman is as good as another. It simply isn’t true. It is a false assumption.” Darcy threw back in his chair and reached for his decanter of brandy. He poured another drink and set it aside as he gazed at the older gentleman before him. Raking his hand through his thick, dark curls, he released a breath and spoke tersely. “Thank you, Winfred. That will be all.” “As you wish, sir.” Mr. Cunningham moved to the door, but as he put his hand to the latch, he turned and gazed at his master. “Have a good evening, sir. I will see you at six o’clock sharp.” Darcy raised his glass. “Six o’clock sharp.” As the door closed behind his gentleman, Darcy downed his drink and slammed the glass on the side table. He moaned out loud. “What a romantic soul my man has! I must be in my cups to have had such a conversation with Winfred.” He glanced at the half empty decanter of drink and shook his head. “I will regret this in the morning,” he said as he rose for bed. But sleep did not come so easily for Darcy. He tossed and turned all through the night with restless dreams of Elizabeth Bennet. He saw her walking in a meadow, and she would turn to smile at him. He approached to walk by her side and reached out to take her in his arms, longing to kiss the lips that taunted and teased him, but she would vanish just as his fingertips were about to caress her beautiful face. Darcy’s eyes flew open, his heart pounding. He glanced at the clock barely visible in the moonlight streaming in from his window. It was four o’clock, and in the distance he could hear a cock crowing. Moaning, he clutched his pillow to his chest. “Elizabeth Bennet, what have you done to me…and what will become of me if I do not offer for you?” ~*~ The days passed by slowly, and while Darcy could not vouch for his hound’s whereabouts, as Sam had not followed him when he and Charles had ridden out to see about estate matters, he himself had not returned to Oakham Mount since the morning after the Miss Bennets left for Longbourn. And furthermore, though Darcy had managed to keep Bingley’s time occupied with the business at hand: Mr. Goolsby had made good progress on the irrigation ditches, the men had begun to repair the stone walls for the outlying pastures, and Hurst, to his credit, had managed to keep his brother-in-law entertained at night with loo, he knew Charles Bingley felt the loss of the Longbourn ladies most acutely. However, with all that Darcy strived to achieve for his friend, Bingley’s thoughts were still occupied with one object: Miss Jane Bennet. He had expressed on more than one occasion how he sorely missed spending his afternoons with Jane, taking tea in her sick room while they talked. In fact, Charles missed Miss Jane so much that it had been all Darcy could do to keep his friend from galloping to Longbourn to see about Miss Bennet’s health, as he would say, each morning after breakfast. But the various and sundry projects Darcy had used to keep his friend distracted had managed to lessen the necessity of calling on Longbourn…until today. As they rode back from the fields where the men were working, Bingley turned to him. “Darcy, I think it would be fitting and proper to call on Miss Bennet this morning. It has been six days, man! She will think I have no care in the world for her wellbeing. I must call. I insist, and I will not be dissuaded.” “Well, if you insist, then let’s call.” “You mean it, Darcy? You will ride over with me?” “If you wish it, then certainly I will,” Darcy replied with a half-smile as they turned their horses in the direction of the village. Though he would never own it to his friend, he too longed to see a certain lady once more, to catch the mirth in her beautiful eyes as she laughed, to smell the scent of lavender he now associated with only her, and last, but certainly not least, he simply wanted to be in her presence one more time. Darcy smiled a contented smile. Yes…he was more than willing to accompany his friend. Darcy glanced over at Bingley as they entered the main street of Meryton with all its clamour and hustle and bustle. Carriages were going to and fro with people coming and going while they moved in and out of the many shops along the busy street. Riding down the thoroughfare, both gentlemen caught sight of a small party standing on the corner laughing and talking together very agreeably in happy readiness of conversation. Darcy heard Elizabeth’s merry laugh ringing out and instantly recognized her there among those gathered together. She was with all her sisters, several officers he recognized, a rather large man wearing a vicar’s collar, and one unknown person who looked oddly familiar. However, the man’s back was turned to him, and therefore, Darcy could not place the acquaintance. When the sound of their horses drew the assembled group’s notice, they looked up. Darcy and Bingley rode directly towards them and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object. “Miss Bennet!” he spoke, raising his beaver. “How good it is to find you out and about this splendid morning. Darcy and I were on our way to enquire after your health. How are you this fine day?” Jane blushed and lowered her lashes. Glancing up she said in a soft genteel voice, “I am quite well, sir, as you see.” “Well, yes, I can see that you are,” he said, looking in his friend’s direction. Darcy acknowledged the ladies with a bow of his head, determined not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, but before he could school his emotions, they got the better of him; and for one brief moment, his eyes locked with Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s. However, his attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of the man standing next to her. He rose up slightly in his saddle and narrowed his eyes. The man in the blue coat turned slowly and faced him fully. Darcy’s body tensed. Both gentlemen changed colour; one white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Darcy was forced to return. Darcy cast a fleeting look at the expression of astonishment on Elizabeth’s countenance as she glanced between them, and then he turned back and glared at his enemy, hatred most assuredly displayed in his eyes while fear clearly showed in the eyes of the other. Not wanting to prolong the awkward situation a moment longer, Darcy turned his horse and trotted off in the direction from whence they had come. In the next awkward moment, Mr. Bingley spoke a few words and took leave to ride on with his friend. When they had cleared the town limits, Bingley glanced over to his companion. “Darcy, what happened back there? I thought we might visit with Miss Bennet.” “Bingley, if it suits you, you may turn your horse round and return, but I have little use for the company.” “Company?” “Yes. Did you not observe the gentleman in the blue coat standing among them?” “No. I’m afraid he quite escaped my notice. I saw the sisters, Lieutenant Denny, and a parson, but who was that other man? I’ve never seen him before.” “That gentleman, though I use that term loosely, was none other than Mr. Wickham.” Bingley looked confused. “Wickham, man! He’s here,” Darcy spat out. “Wickham…here? Your old friend from Cambridge?” Darcy shot him a look; his lips narrowed in disapproval. “Ah, yes…I do remember you telling me much about him; he was not discreet in his behaviour as a gentleman should always be, but I am sure he has improved. Surely he has. You paid him quite handsomely to study law—that is after he refused the living bequeathed to him by your father’s will. Surely Darcy he has improved since then. I mean—” “You think that do you?” Darcy cut him off in irritation. “Well, let me simply say that though he may have the outward appearance of a deserving gentleman striving to make his way in the world, he most decidedly is not. He has betrayed me in the most infamous manner—one that I shall never forget. I will not give you the particulars at this point in time, but I will say that he nearly brought about the ruin of my family through his treachery. No,” Darcy shook his head, “I shall never forgive his betrayal. We were once close friends, but never again. I was nothing but kind to him, and yet he would betray me—and not just recently, but all through our youth with his lecherous living and gaming debts, and my father, God rest his soul, never knew.” “Darcy, I know not what to say, except I am deeply sorry for the pain he has caused you and your family and—” “That is enough, Bingley, please. If you wish to return to the village, then do so. I will find something else to divert my attention.” “No. We shall return to Netherfield together. I need to speak to Caroline about the arrangements for the ball. Nicholls needs several pounds of mutton and some beef from the butcher’s shop. When that business is seen to, then I shall speak with Hurst. Perhaps he would like some sport. We’ve not gone shooting in several days. The dogs could use the outing, and I dare say so could you.” The two gentlemen turned their horses in the direction of Netherfield Park, but Darcy’s mind was far from shooting and pheasants. He wondered if Elizabeth would be taken in by Wickham’s charms, but it was only a passing thought. If he knew anything about her, he knew she was not so easily fooled. No, Elizabeth, he was certain, could hold her own with anybody. She would not be deceived by the likes of him. ~*~ That evening after dinner, Darcy excused himself from the usual night of cards and conversation. Tonight Bingley’s ball would be the topic of discussion, and Darcy had just as soon not take part in the planning of such an event. The invitations were engraved and preparation of white soup enough to feed the county was well underway. And therefore, Darcy chose a book from Bingley’s meagre selection and retired to his chambers claiming fatigue, although he was not in the least tired. Instead, he was tense and desirous of a hot bath, a good bottle of wine, and to be rid of Hertfordshire once and for all. The sight of his nemesis had opened old wounds, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Elizabeth and her sisters, the two youngest in particular, had appeared to enjoy Wickham’s attentions, and though he did not believe Elizabeth could be taken in by the libertine in the long run, he was not so sure, as he had originally presumed, about the present. As he soaked in the relaxing waters of his bath, his thoughts returned to the scene on the corner of Main Street in the village. He recalled the expression on Elizabeth’s face as she glanced between him and Wickham. She appeared to have been confused. What had that rake been telling her? And worse yet, what would Wickham tell her now that she had seen his own reaction to their meeting? Darcy wondered. Wickham had the ability, with his charming manners, to present a pleasing persona. He was, as men go, handsome, and his words were smooth like honey pouring forth from a silver tongue. She could very well be deceived, caught up in the moment before she knew what had transpired. Only God knew how many other innocent women had fallen for his lies. But if she were so easily taken in, then perhaps she was not as good a judge of character as she presumed herself to be. Only time would tell. Dipping the sponge in the soapy water, he ran it along his shoulder and arm as the soothing steam rose up and filled his senses with its relaxing aroma. “Ahh…” he said aloud. “There is nothing like a hot bath to soothe a man’s body…unless it is a good woman to satisfy his soul and quench his lustful hunger.” Darcy leaned back and breathed deeply as he smiled to himself. Bingley’s ball was to be in less than a fortnight. He would have his dance with her if it was the last thing he did, and then he would put away all thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet forever. ~*~ *~*~ http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83009#msg-83009Sun, 19 May 2013 08:29:24 +0100 Phorum 5.2.19 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83036#msg-83036 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83036#msg-83036
I will try and post weekly, but when I get to a certain point, I may slow just a little. Again, Thank you for reading and commenting.]]> MK Baxley Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 12:42:44 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83030#msg-83030 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83030#msg-83030
Have I mentioned that I love it?]]> Anita Misra Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 08:12:17 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83027#msg-83027 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83027#msg-83027 gio Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 05:10:19 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83026#msg-83026 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83026#msg-83026 Laura M. Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 04:50:26 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83024#msg-83024 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83024#msg-83024
1. She would not have believed him, (remember we also know what she thought about both men at this point in time) and then a real scandal would have broken out, ruining things for Bingley, not to mention the talk and the shame brought to Darcy for making an accusation that the towns' people were not ready to accept.

2. He could have laid himself bare to Mr. Bennet and say her father believed him. Then the story is no longer Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice and becomes just another variation. I don't want that. I've done plenty of those and will do plenty more, but this one I want as close to canon as I can get it. I'll give you the variation next time. Promise! ;)

So...it must play out as it is. Darcy is not without proper feelings. You have seen glimpses of them with Jane and his thoughts concerning Elizabeth. He could have maligned her character to Bingley's sister while they walked in the garden in chapter 11, but he didn't, so goodness is there. His conception of his place in the world is just misguided. Remember what he said to Elizabeth near the end of the book:

Quote

I have been a selfish being all my life, in practice, though not in principle. As a child, I was taught what was right; but I was not taught to correct my temper. I was given good principles, but left to follow them in pride and conceit. Unfortunately, an only son (for many years an only child), I was spoilt by my parents, who, though good themselves (my father particularly, all that was benevolent and amiable), allowed, encouraged, almost taught me to be selfish and overbearing -- to care for none beyond my own family circle, to think meanly of all the rest of the world, to wish at least to think meanly of their sense and worth compared with my own. Such I was, from eight to eight-and-twenty; and such I might still have been but for you, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth! What do I not owe you! You taught me a lesson, hard indeed at first, but most advantageous. By you I was properly humbled. I came to you without a doubt of my reception. You shewed me how insufficient were all my pretensions to please a woman worthy of being pleased.”

My interpretation of Jane Austen's Mr. Darcy is that he is an alpha male. He is very protective of those in his care, whether it be family, friends, or servants. He is not in love with Elizabeth just yet, but he is strongly attracted to her. He is in what Dr. James Dobson would call the first stage of love--physical attraction. But it is not just her looks that attracts him. She has what no other woman he's ever met has. She has a beautiful mind and is not afraid to speak as she sees. Consequently, you have a clash of the titans. Trust me, it can be done. Jane Austen brought this plot along and I am following her lead. I'll see it through, too. :D]]> MK Baxley Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 04:34:00 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83021#msg-83021 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83021#msg-83021 Laura M. Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 03:33:17 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83013#msg-83013 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83013#msg-83013 Elise Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 02:03:21 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83012#msg-83012 Re: Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83012#msg-83012
Love the bit with Sam at Oakham Mount. Dogs know everyone's innermost secrets - good thing they can't tell anyone. Lol]]> Monica P Derbyshire Writers' GuildFri, 27 Apr 2012 01:36:29 +0100 http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83009#msg-83009 Fitzwilliam Darcy: A Man in Want of a Wife, ch 11-12http://www.dwiggie.com/phorum/read.php?5,83009,83009#msg-83009Chapter 11





Elizabeth was up bright and early the next morning, feeling the need for fresh air after taking her morning tea with Jane. She had not slept well last night, and more than ever she wished to leave Netherfield sensing they had long since worn out their welcome.

While strolling along the garden paths, she happened to overhear two very familiar voices on the other side of the hedgerows, speaking in earnest.

“Miss Bennet is more than well enough to return home,” Caroline retorted crossly. “What could be the meaning of her staying on? I’m certain, Mr. Darcy, that after Eliza’s abominable behaviour last night you must surely be tiring of our guests by now.”

He made no answer.

“I do believe, dear sister,” Louisa said, “that Mr. Darcy rather enjoys a saucy exchange. Could you not tell?”

They both laughed.

Darcy walked on, staring straight ahead, again without a word to either. His jaw was set firm, and his eyes bore the distinct look of displeasure simmering just below his cool exterior.

“Besides,” Louisa added, glancing from Darcy to Caroline, “I’m sure they don’t mean to impose upon your generosity, Sister. For if our mother had been anything like theirs, would you not have wished to stay away for as long as you possibly could? And the younger sisters—always chasing the officers—what do their parents mean by letting them out so young?”

Again laughter rang out.

Elizabeth drew in a quick breath and clenched her fists. Anger burned in her chest as hot tears stung her eyes, and she seriously considered making her presence known. But then, thinking the better of it, she quietly turned and took the opposite path, making her way for the kitchen so that she might enter the house discreetly. Fortunately, Sam, who was running in the garden beside her, did not give her presence away. It was as if the dog knew and understood her distress. He approached her, wagging his tail with a soft whimper meant only for her notice.

“Not now Sam. It will not do,” she said, fighting back her resentment. “I have other concerns occupying my time. Perhaps you might venture to Longbourn someday, and then we can play at our leisure, disagreeable mother and unruly sisters notwithstanding.” She glanced down at the dog, so willing to please. “Oh, Sam! If only your master was as agreeable as you. Then I would not feel half so offended, but he is not. I wonder, Sam, what must he be saying now that he has free rein to speak his mind and with such a willing audience to hear it. Insufferable man!”

She stomped her foot, and then paused to stroke the dog’s head. “I wish all men were as good and faithful as dogs, but alas, they are not, and I have arrived at my destination. Goodbye, Sam,” she said with a deep sigh as she reached the back door to Mrs. Ayers’ kitchen.

The dog nudged her hand, seeming to understand, and gave one quick bark before he darted away, his attention soon diverted by the scent of a rabbit hopping across the vegetable garden.

~*~


The state of affairs was not at all as Elizabeth had presumed, and had she remained long enough to hear Darcy’s rebuttal, she might have found her feelings less affronted. But unfortunately, as it was, she was neither privy to the pleasure of his response nor the comfort she might have received upon hearing it.

~*~


Darcy’s patience with Bingley’s sisters was wearing thin, to say the least, but for Miss Elizabeth’s sake, he would keep his emotions under good regulation for fear that Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley be given something else to talk about should he express what he really felt. Reconciling himself to the situation at hand, he released a frosty breath and attempted to alter the direction of the conversation, which he knew had been for his benefit, by raising it to a higher level.

“Miss Bennet,” he said at last, his gaze fixed on nothing in particular, “is considerably better, I grant you, but I beg to differ with your assessment of her situation, Miss Bingley. The quiet of Netherfield is far better for her full recovery than the noise of Longbourn.” Darcy paused, and then deciding he would answer some of the Bingley sisters’ accusations, he cleared his throat and spoke, “And as for her sisters early coming out, well, all I can say on that subject is that the manners in the country are vastly different from those of Town, and while they might not be to your refined taste, I see no harm done in the setting in which they reside. What is there in a country dance to be despised—a few flirtations—a small number of smiles exchanged?” He released another deep breath. “Now, if you will excuse me, I believe I will return to the house.”

“Louisa, if I did not know him better, I would say he is utterly smitten by Miss Eliza. Surely you do not think—”

“Perish the thought! You know as well as I Mr. Darcy will only marry from among his own circle He will not choose a country nobody. His honour forbids it! The future Mistress of Pemberley will be a lady of the highest quality—one who has all the polished refinements which are only available from the finest finishing schools and to those who can afford it, such as ourselves. You, dear sister, must learn to control that sharp tongue of yours, or you may lose every advantage you have gained through our brother’s friendship with such an illustrious man.”

The two sisters looked at one another for some moments and then took the more often used path back to the house. Climbing the steps to the portico, they entered and walked towards the breakfast parlour.

~*~


Elizabeth rushed into the kitchen and asked for a tray to be sent to her sister’s room where they would take their morning meal together. She then asked the housekeeper to give her regrets to the family, saying she felt a slight headache and would not be joining them for tea.

Before she could leave, however, Molly approached her and curtseyed. “If you please, Miss Bennet, give my regards to your ailing sister. I hope that she’s feeling much better this fine morning, and tell her that I shall have her hot broth to her room directly. Manny had to fetch a fat chicken this morning as the beef bones were all used up.”

Elizabeth laughed and smiled kindly. “I shall tell her, Molly, and thank you for being so caring as to ask after my sister. It is very thoughtful of you.”

“Oh! It ain’t nothing, ma’am. I’d be just as concerned over me own sister—if’n I had one, that is.”

“You have no siblings then?”

“Oh, no ma’am! I surely do! Me lot is to have five strapping brothers and all of them younger than me at that. Me da’ says that if the Good Lord is willin’ and the river don’t rise that me ma may yet have another and that one might be me sis, for I so wish for a sis. I would be a good older sis—just like you.”

Elizabeth smiled again and shook her head. “I am absolutely sure you would. You are a good girl, Molly,” she said, and then turned to leave the kitchen.

Making her way to Jane’s room, she ran directly into the path of Mr. Bingley, who, having just had word from Mrs. Nicholls, enquired after her health.

“I am fine; I thank you sir,” she said with a curtsey, “I have only a slight headache which I think some warm porridge and a cup of coffee will soon set to rights. I sometimes feel unwell when I walk out so early with nothing but tea on my stomach.”

“But of course, Miss Bennet. I do understand. It is a common occurrence for me as well. Give my warmest regards to your sister, and we shall see you directly.”

“Ay, sir. I most assuredly will.” She dropped another curtsey.

Returning to Jane’s room, she pressed her sister for an agreement that they should return to Longbourn this very day, though she kept the exchange she had overheard in the garden to herself.

“Lizzy, if it pains you to such an extent to stay longer, then I think we should go. I realize Caroline is not pleasant to you. I can see the way her eyes follow you around the room, especially when Mr. Darcy engages you in conversation, but I do not think she means—”

“Jane! You do not know the half of it. Miss Bingley is very much opposed to me, as I to her. Let me just say that our feelings are mutual, and she need not worry where Mr. Darcy is concerned; for I am sure he prefers her company to mine any day.” Elizabeth turned and spoke privately, “And she can have him for all I care!”

Releasing a deep breath, she glanced over her shoulder to Jane as she took a seat at the desk in their room. “I shall pen Mamma a note and send it directly. I must beg that the carriage be sent for us in the course of the day.”

After posting the message, an hour had not passed before her letter was answered. Elizabeth tore into it with alacrity.


Lizzy, what do you mean requesting the carriage? Nonsense! You and Jane must remain at Netherfield till the following Tuesday, which will exactly finish Jane’s week. I will not hear of you returning a moment sooner, and should you come, you can expect no welcome from me. It is by design that I have Jane at Netherfield and by design she shall stay until a full week has passed. Now, find some excuse to remain, for there is no advantage to either of you here.

Yours, etc.

Mamma

PS: if Mr. Bingley and his sister should press you to stay longer, I could spare you both very well. Stay another sennight.


Elizabeth shook her head as she folded the letter and placed it in her pocket. In regard to staying longer, she was positively resolved against it—nor did she much expect it would be asked. On the contrary, she was fearful that if Miss Bingley had anything to say about it, the opposite would be the case. Furthermore, from the conversation she had overheard just a few hours earlier, she knew she and Jane were considered to have intruded needlessly long already.

She glanced at her sister and released a sigh. “Mamma wants us to stay, but I think we should not. We must leave as we discussed, for I am impatient to be in my own room in our own house. I cannot abide remaining here a moment longer.”

“Then we shall request a carriage from Mr. Bingley, for I have a desire to go home as well.” Jane paused and looked away. “Lizzy, I know this is not proper. I feel it keenly, and I cannot accept it any longer. We shall indeed go.”

~*~


After the breakfast tray was removed, Elizabeth descended the stairs and found the party in the morning parlour taking tea and discussing the day.

“Mr. Bingley,” she said, approaching him with some hesitation. “Jane is much improved, and I believe the time has now come when my sister and I must return to Longbourn, and furthermore, since my parents cannot spare the carriage, it is my express wish that we may beg for the use of yours.”

“Oh, but you mustn’t leave! I will not hear of your leaving and neither will my sister,” he said, turning to Miss Bingley. “Caroline, tell Miss Elizabeth that they must stay longer.”

“No, we cannot. I—”

“But you must stay till the morrow at least,” he cried with quickness. “Caroline…?”

“Yes,” Caroline began with less enthusiasm than her brother, “I would not think of your leaving. Miss Bennet must stay at least another day. I insist upon it,” she said with a smile that did not reach her eyes.

Elizabeth sighed, realizing that, though his sister might not be so charitable of heart, Mr. Bingley’s wishes were genuine and heartfelt. She could not refuse the pleading so vividly expressed in his soft blue eyes. “Well,” she said at length, “if it is agreeable to Jane, then it is agreeable to me, but, for one day only. We are needed at Longbourn to help with the herbs and dried flowers. They must be put away in the herb house with special care, and I’m afraid I am the only one who can oversee the job properly. And then Jane must oversee the distilling of the oils.”

Word was sent to Jane who did agree for an extension of one day, and their going was, therefore, deferred. Miss Bingley was then sorry that she had acquiesced to her brother’s pleadings and proposed the delay, for her jealousy and dislike of one sister much exceeded her affection for the other.

The master of the house heard with real sorrow that they were to go so soon, and throughout the course of the day, repeatedly tried to persuade Miss Bennet that it would not be safe for her—that she was not enough recovered and should stay another sennight. He stated that the herb harvest could wait another week, but Jane was firm where she felt herself to be right.

When Mr. Darcy returned from the stables, he found the family in the morning parlour having tea, lamenting Miss Bennet’s coming departure. Filling his cup, Darcy walked away and stood by the window, gazing out onto the front lawn.

“Well, it is settled,” Caroline stated. “The Miss Bennets shall depart for Longbourn on the morrow after church.”

She turned to Darcy and walked to where he stood. “I suppose,” she said approaching him with glee in her voice, “that you, sir, will be missing a pair of fine eyes.”

Darcy showed no emotion as his teacup clattered in its saucer. “No, quite the contrary, I assure you.”

Stepping away from the window, Miss Bingley smiled and glanced at her sister who raised her cup to her lips and smiled back.

Bingley was engaged with Hurst, who grumbled about another round of sport for the day, but the sky looked of rain and the idea was soon put to rest in favour of another topic which rose to take its place.

Standing there alone while the others chattered back and forth, Darcy continued to sip his tea while he watched Sam go out across the lawn on a hunt, nose to the ground, tail to the air. For his part, Darcy was well pleased with the news, as it was welcome intelligence to him; Elizabeth Bennet had been at Netherfield long enough. She attracted him more than he liked, and Miss Bingley was uncivil to her and more teasing than usual to himself.

He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity, sensible that if such an idea had been suggested, his behaviour during the course of their stay must have material weight in confirming or crushing it.

Steady to his purpose, he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, and even though they were at one time left by themselves for half an hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look in her direction, yet he was keenly aware of her presence by the lavender fragrance that always followed her.

Elizabeth, for her part, was much relieved that Mr. Darcy paid her no particular mind one way or the other. She had long since grown tired of their tit for tat, back and forth, verbal sparring, parsing each other’s words with meticulous detail. Mr. Darcy believed himself to be of superior breeding with worldly experience and intellect that far outreached hers. She would choose to let him think as he desired. Turning the page in her new book, she would not even glance in his direction, keeping carefully to her own volume, though the lingering scent of sandalwood and myrrh followed him, making concentration on her tome difficult to say the least.

~*~


On Sunday, after morning services, the separation, so agreeable to almost all, finally took place. Darcy had observed throughout the course of the morning that Miss Bingley’s civility to Miss Elizabeth had increased very rapidly, as well as her affection for Miss Bennet. In fact, she was positively capricious, and when they finally parted, after assuring the latter of the pleasure it would always give her to see her either at Longbourn or Netherfield and embracing her most tenderly, she even shook hands with the former.

Darcy smiled at the duplicity of it all as he noted how Miss Elizabeth took leave of the whole party in the liveliest of spirits. All appeared to be joyful. Only Bingley, it seemed, was not so well pleased as he lamented the loss of Miss Bennet’s company.

From his bedroom window, Darcy had watched it all. Never in his life was he so glad to see someone go as he was Elizabeth Bennet. He could not deny that she attracted him, nor would he deny that, with very little provocation, he could have her hand if he wished it, and that was reason enough to put an end to his fantasy, even if she was the flesh and blood replica of the wood nymph that often visited him in his dreams. It was time to put away childish desires and behave as a responsible man of his station.

~*~


Upon entering the gate at Longbourn proper, they were not welcomed home very cordially by their mother. Mrs. Bennet wondered at their coming, and thought them very wrong to give so much trouble to Mr. Bingley by requesting his carriage and not adhering to her commands. She was sure Jane would have caught cold again, but their father, though very laconic in his expressions of pleasure, was really glad to see them. He missed them dearly and had felt their importance in the family circle. The evening conversation, when they were all assembled, had lost much of its animation and almost all its sense, with the absence of Jane and Elizabeth.

They found Mary, as usual, deep in the study of thorough base and human nature, and had some new extracts to admire and some new observations of thread-bare morality to listen to. Catherine and Lydia had information for them of a different sort. Much had been done and much had been said in the regiment since the preceding Wednesday: several of the officers had dined lately with their uncle, a private had been flogged, and it had actually been hinted that Colonel Forster was going to be married. And so the merry party was once again established at Longbourn.



~*~*~*~





Chapter 12





Soon after the ladies of Longbourn had departed Netherfield Park, Darcy found that he sorely missed Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her pert opinions though he would scarcely admit it to himself, and most certainly not to any member of the household. He aimlessly wandered about the house expecting to hear her merry laughter or the sound of music coming from the drawing room but only silence hung in the air. More times than he cared to remember, he entered the room where they had spent many hours only to find it empty, devoid of anything pleasurable.

Unfortunately, Miss Bingley noticed his melancholy, for she and her sister enthusiastically approached him as he stood aimlessly by the pianoforte and begged that he join them in the gardens for a stroll. He declined. Instead, he gathered his volume of Sir Thomas More and left for his room where he could read in peace. But even as he read through the passages of philosophy and critical thought, he found himself wondering what Miss Elizabeth would think of More’s opinion of first one subject and then another, as he knew she most certainly would have a judgment of her own.

Finally, bored with Sir Thomas More, he gently laid the volume aside and went to find Hurst and Bingley in the hopes of engaging in some sport. Perhaps shooting would relieve his growing anxiety.

~*~


The next morning, Darcy was even more restless, and after his morning meal, he decided exercise was in order. Taking his gun, he set out with Sam, riding hard and fast over the pasture lands, exploring all they could find. At the border of Longbourn and Netherfield, Sam caught the scent of a deer, which man and dog proceeded to hunt for several hours, but the animal proved too elusive for them and thus was granted a reprieve to forage in the forest for another day.

Wandering through the wooded paths, Darcy and Sam soon found themselves atop Oakham Mount. Trotting into the open area where he and Miss Bennet had met once before, he glanced around, but Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. Sam, he knew, was looking for her as well, sniffing every trace of the open meadow where they had on one occasion played, but Darcy was rather pleased that she had chosen not to walk out this particular morning, for he had no real wish to meet her here and had no idea why he had come, except that he had followed his dog. Taking a deep breath, he shook his head as he dismounted and tied his horse to a nearby low-hanging branch.

“Well, Sam, here we are. You miss her don’t you? Well, I suppose I miss her, too, but we must not tell anyone.”

Sam barked and frolicked about. Sighting a stick, he fetched it and laid it down at his master’s feet.

“So you want to play just as you did with her, do you? Then play we shall.”

Darcy reached down and picked up the stick, throwing it as hard as he could across the field. Sam dashed after it.

“I cannot marry her,” Darcy spoke chidingly to himself. “It would be unsupportable. I must think of my sister and prospective heirs—my children. With a mother like hers and family in trade, they would never be accepted in the top tiers of society. Am I willing to give up everything it took generations to build…I, the grandson of an earl?”

He looked down at the unpretentious dog wagging his tail as he once more laid the stick at his feet.

“What do you say, Sam? Would you like to breed with a mongrel—a dog that is not a foxhound? Of course you would take no thought not to. You’re a dog, and if a bitch is in heat, you would most certainly avail yourself of the opportunity.”

Sam barked almost angrily.

“Yes, I know Miss Bennet is a gentleman’s daughter and not a dog, but what of her mother? That is one woman, Sam, that I cannot abide. Once my circle met her, I’d be the laughing stock of all of London.”

Darcy reached over and stroked his dog’s head. “You do not care for such things, do you? And perhaps I should not either.” Remembering what he had thought to himself many months ago, he spoke again. “Yes…I did say I would propose in an instant if I were to ever meet a woman who could fulfil my desires, but when I said that, I did not intend for it to be someone from trade or with Miss Elizabeth’s inferior connections. She is so decidedly beneath me in all things that matter in my world—and need I mention what my family would think? It would be an abhorrence which my better judgment has always opposed. No, Sam,” he glanced at his dog as he tossed the stick once more, “I cannot give over to my own foolish desires with one reckless decision. I have a duty and an obligation to the Darcy name, and I cannot forget it.”

Sam did not hear the last of his master’s words as he was long gone once the stick left Darcy’s hand.

“It is just as well,” Darcy muttered under his breath while he moved to retrieve his horse. “I’d just as soon talk to you, Calibus. You’d be just as likely to understand my dilemma as Sam.” Darcy chuckled. “I must be fit for bedlam. I have just had conversations with first my dog, and now my horse.”

The horse whinnied and raised his head as Darcy turned him towards Netherfield. “Come,” he said, giving a shrill whistle for Sam. “Let’s go home.”

~*~


Five days had passed from the time when the ladies of Longbourn had departed, and since his outing with Sam, Darcy had put away thoughts of Elizabeth Bennet and stilled his emotions, placing them under good regulation while finding other things to occupy his mind. That was during the daylight hours, but at night, in the quiet of his room, it had been another situation entirely. There he could not even open his favorite book without images of Miss Elizabeth and their spirited conversations dominating his consciousness. He smiled softly as he relived each and every conversation while he sipped his brandy and smoked a cigar. There was no way to deny what his heart spoke to him: she was the perfect woman in every possible way. He took a deep breath and raked his hand over his face.

“What are you going to do, Darcy? You want her like you have never wanted a woman before.” He glanced around the room as he exhaled a stream of smoke. “Am I in love?” he asked himself.

He threw back his head and gave a hearty laugh. “The thought has crossed my mind—and more often than I would like at that. Good God, what am I going to do?”

“Excuse me, sir,” his man said, stepping into the room, “Could I get you something before I retire for the evening?”

Darcy looked up, his eyes fixed on the older gentleman standing before him. “Yes…you can.”

“And what might that be, sir?”

“Advice,” he answered.

“Advice, sir?”

“Yes,” Darcy said, matter-of-factly, “advice.”

The man cleared his throat, stood straight, and nodded.

“Winfred Cunningham, my good man, have you ever been in love?”

“In love, sir?”

“Yes…in love. Has a woman ever captivated your thoughts so that you think of nothing else but her?”

“Yes, sir. I was once in love.”

“Did you marry her?”

“Yes, sir, I did and was quite happy whilst it lasted.”

“And…what, if I might enquire, happened?”

“She died in childbirth four and twenty years ago last December—the third to be exact.”

Darcy furrowed his brow. “I never knew.”

“No, sir, I never told you.”

“And you never remarried?”

“No, sir. I have never seen the need to marry since my Molly. The thought of replacing her was reprehensible. I could never conceive of it. When you have loved and been loved in return, sir, you will understand.”

“Loved…” he breathed out on a whisper.

“May I be so bold as to speak freely, sir?”

“Speak.”

“Is Miss Elizabeth Bennet the object of your affections, sir?”

Darcy laughed. “How very perceptive of you.”

His gentleman cleared his throat yet again. “Sir, if I may be so bold for a second time, I would speak and offer you my humble opinion on the matter.”

Darcy raised a brow and motioned with his hand. “By all means, speak!”

Stepping away, his man walked about the room. After several moments of contemplation, he turned and fixed his gaze upon his master. “Mr. Darcy, love is a many splendored thing. It’s like the roses that bloom in Pemberley’s gardens in early summer, fragile and lovely with a sweet fragrance, giving a man a reason to live. It is the costly jewel set in a golden crown that makes a man a king in his own home, and it is also an illusion that many seek but few find. But, however, if you are fortunate enough to find the right female to accompany you through life’s difficult pathways, then you are indeed blessed and should seize the opportunity at once, for love is rare—precious beyond all comprehension. Do not let it slip through your fingers, sir, or be the fool who thinks one woman is as good as another. It simply isn’t true. It is a false assumption.”

Darcy threw back in his chair and reached for his decanter of brandy. He poured another drink and set it aside as he gazed at the older gentleman before him. Raking his hand through his thick, dark curls, he released a breath and spoke tersely. “Thank you, Winfred. That will be all.”

“As you wish, sir.”

Mr. Cunningham moved to the door, but as he put his hand to the latch, he turned and gazed at his master. “Have a good evening, sir. I will see you at six o’clock sharp.”

Darcy raised his glass. “Six o’clock sharp.”

As the door closed behind his gentleman, Darcy downed his drink and slammed the glass on the side table. He moaned out loud. “What a romantic soul my man has! I must be in my cups to have had such a conversation with Winfred.” He glanced at the half empty decanter of drink and shook his head. “I will regret this in the morning,” he said as he rose for bed.

But sleep did not come so easily for Darcy. He tossed and turned all through the night with restless dreams of Elizabeth Bennet. He saw her walking in a meadow, and she would turn to smile at him. He approached to walk by her side and reached out to take her in his arms, longing to kiss the lips that taunted and teased him, but she would vanish just as his fingertips were about to caress her beautiful face.

Darcy’s eyes flew open, his heart pounding. He glanced at the clock barely visible in the moonlight streaming in from his window. It was four o’clock, and in the distance he could hear a cock crowing. Moaning, he clutched his pillow to his chest.

“Elizabeth Bennet, what have you done to me…and what will become of me if I do not offer for you?”

~*~


The days passed by slowly, and while Darcy could not vouch for his hound’s whereabouts, as Sam had not followed him when he and Charles had ridden out to see about estate matters, he himself had not returned to Oakham Mount since the morning after the Miss Bennets left for Longbourn. And furthermore, though Darcy had managed to keep Bingley’s time occupied with the business at hand: Mr. Goolsby had made good progress on the irrigation ditches, the men had begun to repair the stone walls for the outlying pastures, and Hurst, to his credit, had managed to keep his brother-in-law entertained at night with loo, he knew Charles Bingley felt the loss of the Longbourn ladies most acutely.

However, with all that Darcy strived to achieve for his friend, Bingley’s thoughts were still occupied with one object: Miss Jane Bennet. He had expressed on more than one occasion how he sorely missed spending his afternoons with Jane, taking tea in her sick room while they talked. In fact, Charles missed Miss Jane so much that it had been all Darcy could do to keep his friend from galloping to Longbourn to see about Miss Bennet’s health, as he would say, each morning after breakfast.

But the various and sundry projects Darcy had used to keep his friend distracted had managed to lessen the necessity of calling on Longbourn…until today. As they rode back from the fields where the men were working, Bingley turned to him.

“Darcy, I think it would be fitting and proper to call on Miss Bennet this morning. It has been six days, man! She will think I have no care in the world for her wellbeing. I must call. I insist, and I will not be dissuaded.”

“Well, if you insist, then let’s call.”

“You mean it, Darcy? You will ride over with me?”

“If you wish it, then certainly I will,” Darcy replied with a half-smile as they turned their horses in the direction of the village. Though he would never own it to his friend, he too longed to see a certain lady once more, to catch the mirth in her beautiful eyes as she laughed, to smell the scent of lavender he now associated with only her, and last, but certainly not least, he simply wanted to be in her presence one more time. Darcy smiled a contented smile. Yes…he was more than willing to accompany his friend.

Darcy glanced over at Bingley as they entered the main street of Meryton with all its clamour and hustle and bustle. Carriages were going to and fro with people coming and going while they moved in and out of the many shops along the busy street. Riding down the thoroughfare, both gentlemen caught sight of a small party standing on the corner laughing and talking together very agreeably in happy readiness of conversation. Darcy heard Elizabeth’s merry laugh ringing out and instantly recognized her there among those gathered together. She was with all her sisters, several officers he recognized, a rather large man wearing a vicar’s collar, and one unknown person who looked oddly familiar. However, the man’s back was turned to him, and therefore, Darcy could not place the acquaintance.

When the sound of their horses drew the assembled group’s notice, they looked up. Darcy and Bingley rode directly towards them and began the usual civilities. Bingley was the principal spokesman, and Miss Bennet the principal object.

“Miss Bennet!” he spoke, raising his beaver. “How good it is to find you out and about this splendid morning. Darcy and I were on our way to enquire after your health. How are you this fine day?”

Jane blushed and lowered her lashes. Glancing up she said in a soft genteel voice, “I am quite well, sir, as you see.”

“Well, yes, I can see that you are,” he said, looking in his friend’s direction.

Darcy acknowledged the ladies with a bow of his head, determined not to fix his eyes on Elizabeth, but before he could school his emotions, they got the better of him; and for one brief moment, his eyes locked with Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s. However, his attention was suddenly diverted by the sight of the man standing next to her. He rose up slightly in his saddle and narrowed his eyes. The man in the blue coat turned slowly and faced him fully.

Darcy’s body tensed. Both gentlemen changed colour; one white, the other red. Mr. Wickham, after a few moments, touched his hat—a salutation which Darcy was forced to return.

Darcy cast a fleeting look at the expression of astonishment on Elizabeth’s countenance as she glanced between them, and then he turned back and glared at his enemy, hatred most assuredly displayed in his eyes while fear clearly showed in the eyes of the other.

Not wanting to prolong the awkward situation a moment longer, Darcy turned his horse and trotted off in the direction from whence they had come. In the next awkward moment, Mr. Bingley spoke a few words and took leave to ride on with his friend.

When they had cleared the town limits, Bingley glanced over to his companion.

“Darcy, what happened back there? I thought we might visit with Miss Bennet.”

“Bingley, if it suits you, you may turn your horse round and return, but I have little use for the company.”

“Company?”

“Yes. Did you not observe the gentleman in the blue coat standing among them?”

“No. I’m afraid he quite escaped my notice. I saw the sisters, Lieutenant Denny, and a parson, but who was that other man? I’ve never seen him before.”

“That gentleman, though I use that term loosely, was none other than Mr. Wickham.”

Bingley looked confused.

“Wickham, man! He’s here,” Darcy spat out.

“Wickham…here? Your old friend from Cambridge?”

Darcy shot him a look; his lips narrowed in disapproval.

“Ah, yes…I do remember you telling me much about him; he was not discreet in his behaviour as a gentleman should always be, but I am sure he has improved. Surely he has. You paid him quite handsomely to study law—that is after he refused the living bequeathed to him by your father’s will. Surely Darcy he has improved since then. I mean—”

“You think that do you?” Darcy cut him off in irritation. “Well, let me simply say that though he may have the outward appearance of a deserving gentleman striving to make his way in the world, he most decidedly is not. He has betrayed me in the most infamous manner—one that I shall never forget. I will not give you the particulars at this point in time, but I will say that he nearly brought about the ruin of my family through his treachery. No,” Darcy shook his head, “I shall never forgive his betrayal. We were once close friends, but never again. I was nothing but kind to him, and yet he would betray me—and not just recently, but all through our youth with his lecherous living and gaming debts, and my father, God rest his soul, never knew.”

“Darcy, I know not what to say, except I am deeply sorry for the pain he has caused you and your family and—”

“That is enough, Bingley, please. If you wish to return to the village, then do so. I will find something else to divert my attention.”

“No. We shall return to Netherfield together. I need to speak to Caroline about the arrangements for the ball. Nicholls needs several pounds of mutton and some beef from the butcher’s shop. When that business is seen to, then I shall speak with Hurst. Perhaps he would like some sport. We’ve not gone shooting in several days. The dogs could use the outing, and I dare say so could you.”

The two gentlemen turned their horses in the direction of Netherfield Park, but Darcy’s mind was far from shooting and pheasants. He wondered if Elizabeth would be taken in by Wickham’s charms, but it was only a passing thought. If he knew anything about her, he knew she was not so easily fooled. No, Elizabeth, he was certain, could hold her own with anybody. She would not be deceived by the likes of him.

~*~


That evening after dinner, Darcy excused himself from the usual night of cards and conversation. Tonight Bingley’s ball would be the topic of discussion, and Darcy had just as soon not take part in the planning of such an event. The invitations were engraved and preparation of white soup enough to feed the county was well underway. And therefore, Darcy chose a book from Bingley’s meagre selection and retired to his chambers claiming fatigue, although he was not in the least tired.

Instead, he was tense and desirous of a hot bath, a good bottle of wine, and to be rid of Hertfordshire once and for all. The sight of his nemesis had opened old wounds, and the more he thought about it, the angrier he became. Elizabeth and her sisters, the two youngest in particular, had appeared to enjoy Wickham’s attentions, and though he did not believe Elizabeth could be taken in by the libertine in the long run, he was not so sure, as he had originally presumed, about the present.

As he soaked in the relaxing waters of his bath, his thoughts returned to the scene on the corner of Main Street in the village. He recalled the expression on Elizabeth’s face as she glanced between him and Wickham. She appeared to have been confused. What had that rake been telling her? And worse yet, what would Wickham tell her now that she had seen his own reaction to their meeting? Darcy wondered.

Wickham had the ability, with his charming manners, to present a pleasing persona. He was, as men go, handsome, and his words were smooth like honey pouring forth from a silver tongue. She could very well be deceived, caught up in the moment before she knew what had transpired. Only God knew how many other innocent women had fallen for his lies. But if she were so easily taken in, then perhaps she was not as good a judge of character as she presumed herself to be. Only time would tell.

Dipping the sponge in the soapy water, he ran it along his shoulder and arm as the soothing steam rose up and filled his senses with its relaxing aroma.

“Ahh…” he said aloud. “There is nothing like a hot bath to soothe a man’s body…unless it is a good woman to satisfy his soul and quench his lustful hunger.”

Darcy leaned back and breathed deeply as he smiled to himself. Bingley’s ball was to be in less than a fortnight. He would have his dance with her if it was the last thing he did, and then he would put away all thoughts of Miss Elizabeth Bennet forever.



~*~ *~*~
]]> MK Baxley Derbyshire Writers' GuildThu, 26 Apr 2012 23:53:32 +0100