Begun By France (alfresco) Saturday, December 7, 1996
It had been one of those days when Darcy wished he'd been born Wickham: his aunt Catherine had sent him a letter of such length and threats about Miss Elizabeth as to stir his indignation and desire. He moodily rose from his favorite green armchair and went to the fireplace to stir the embers and his own feelings into a blaze. If only Elizabeth didn't look so well in her muslin, I might never have noticed her bewitching eyes above, he thought. If my aunt won't approve of a marriage with her, I wish I were George enough to simply steal her away and enjoy her fiery spirit in an elegant little hideaway.
The thought shocked him: he, sink as low as devil-may-care Wickham? Never! Still, the scoundrel had a certain slick charm that captivated the ladies, whereas he...well, except for Caroline they seemed to think ill of him. He dragged himself upstairs to his room, disrobed, and stared at the mirror. No sense of adventure or humor, he mulled, and then it hit him--- a risky but game way to prove himself to his love. It was Christmas Eve; he would prepare and then ride to Longbourne, asking to see Lizzie by way of the kitchen help; a little tip to the staff there would suffice. He smiled grimly (as only a man desperately in love can), then set to work.
At dusk he rode, humming the Netherfield dance tunes to buck up his courage. At eight he arrived at the back of the Bennet house, quietly dismounted and strode up to the door, knocking. An obliging cook smilingly vowed to get the young lady, and Darcy waited, assuring himself with sheer bluster that Lizzie would like the new Darcy as much as that old Wickham. A moment later, an astonished Lizzie appeared in the doorway. "I had not thought...that is to say," she bit her lip in confusion and secret delight at his visit. "I come to bring you tidings of comfort and joy, and a look at the new me," he began. "This is on the recommendation of Misses Cheryl, Cecily, and other brave new world women, as to the perfect gift." Without much ado but much anxiety, he opened his coat. Just then the entire Bennet family came up behind the dumfounded Lizzie. "Oh, a red and a green one!" babbled Mrs. Bennet. "I do love a well-wrapped present."
Lizzie, however, merely slammed the door behind her in their faces as she ran to catch up to her now primally screaming lover as he raced to his horse. "I've always wanted to pull a Lydia [stunt]," she murmured in his grateful ear. "Let's wave in the window at Rosings before heading up to Gretna Green." As they drove out of sight, "Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!" Darcy shouted at Jane waving to them from her room.
Continued By Jake (fen) Monday, December 9, 1996
epilogue...
A piercing beam of sunlight awakened a most groggy Darcy. He shielded his eyes from the glare, then embraced the tousled bedclothes next to him. "My loveliest Elizabeth," he murmured, sleepily. A sudden realization all he hugged was his kingsized pillow forced him awake. "I hope Bingley never dreams like that," he muttered to himself as he washed his face in the silver basin. "It's enough to drive a man mad." On second thought, Darcy decided that a bouquet and strictly courteous holiday note would n't be disliked by Miss Bennet on this Christmas Day; he would do so and send them by special messenger posthaste. Comforted with this gentlemanly resolve, he went down to breakfast.
The End.