Jump to new as of February 20, 1999
Jump to new as of February 24, 1999
Part I
Author's note. I had some correspondence with Joanna over her "Tormented Lizzie I and II," and she suggested that I do a "Tormented Darcy."
Fitzwilliam Darcy paced up and down in the rather grand library in his London house. The source of his agitation though, was nothing to do with any of the books therein, but rather how to further his quest to win the heart of one Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
He ruminated over the problem, trying to put together the information at his disposal as dispassionately as a man violently in love can be expected to, but was having very little success of it.
On the face of it, the facts were simple. He was, and had for some considerable time been in love with this particular lady. He had, after a deal of hesitation, proposed to her. Unfortunately his delivery was in a manner both arrogant and ungentlemanlike. She had rejected his suit with a devastating finality, and scathing character analysis that had left him stunned, angry and hurt.
Her rejection, though keenly felt, had not fallen on infertile ground. On recovering from the shock of her dismissal of his suit, he had taken a long and hard look at himself, and at her. In himself, he was less than pleased. In her, he could find no fault. In fact, the more he thought of what had passed between them, the more he realised her worth, and his loss.
This realisation opened to his mind the fact that the qualities that Miss Bennet possessed that had previously attracted him, were well understated. He now knew that in addition to her beauty, her independence of spirit and liveliness, that here was a woman for whom the concepts of love and honour were absolute, and who could not be tempted by money, possessions or material comfort.
He had been confident of her acceptance based on his pride in his own family, fortune and connections. After all, he had reasoned, given the decided inferiority of hers, she would be unlikely to get a better offer. To refuse him would in all likelihood mean a life of genteel poverty, and possibly even never marrying. It had not even crossed his mind, that in the name of honour and love, she would choose to reject him. Miss Bingley he did not doubt, would have suffered any slur on her family to become mistress of Pemberley. He shuddered at the prospect.
Fitzwilliam Darcy now understood the qualities possessed of some women that make men ready to die for them - and despaired.
Over the succeeding months, his mood had moved through despair, to a grim determination to try to forget Miss Elizabeth Bennet, to one of imagining life with her at his side. It was like Christian's journey from the Slough of Despond to the Celestial City - with Caroline Bingley's presence like Vanity Fair, he thought wryly.
He was fixed by the knowledge that Miss Bennet's good opinion was now even more worth the earning. And he wished mightily to earn it. His sole object was to attend to the things that had caused her resentment, rectifying them one by one. His hope, to secure her forgiveness and her love. If he could not, his feelings told him that he would be unlikely to marry - ever. "What then of that proud Darcy name and lineage? What of the family, fortune, and connections? Without a wife there would be no heir; with no heir to succeed to the Pemberley Estates, all would be lost, and utterly so. Here will be the final resting place of the Darcy name, if I cannot marry Elizabeth Bennet."
"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." The warning haunted him. He had had the fall. How now to avert destruction?
As he paced up and down in the library, he realised that even though he had done as much as was within his power, it seemed he still could not be sure of winning her heart. He could put a further proposal, but it would be his last chance. If he failed, it would be the end of him, his hopes, his family, his name. Yet if he dared nothing, the end would be the same. Whichever way he turned, the risks seemed too great. He must do something, but what? Thus were the thoughts tumbling over and over in the mind of the Master of Pemberley.
Suddenly, his butler burst in, and hurriedly announced "Lady Catherine De Bourgh, sir."
The reason for the butler's undignified haste became soon apparent as the Lady herself appeared hard on his heels, and in something of a state, as the butler confided to the housekeeper later that night.
"Fitzwilliam, I must speak to you at once!" she exclaimed with a degree of agitation that Darcy observed was quite remarkable.
"Pray go on Lady Catherine, but surely you would like to take tea first?" he asked moving for the bell.
"Certainly not. I shall be heard immediately." She rejoined impatiently. "A report of an alarming nature reached me a couple of days ago..."
"Alarming?" said Darcy with a lift of an eyebrow.
"Yes, and pray do not interrupt me." She fumed. "Apparently it has been put about that you are to be engaged to Miss Elizabeth Bennet! Well, what do you think of that, nephew? Have you heard anything so abominably ridiculous?"
Darcy stiffened in astonishment, unable to speak at first. Eventually, he collected himself, and said, "Well, Lady Catherine, that is certainly news to me!"
This, however, was not quite the answer that Lady Catherine required. She continued, "I, myself have just come from Hertfordshire where I have confronted that scheming vixen, Miss Bennet."
"You spoke to Miss Bennet?" Darcy was incredulous, but he managed to suppress the urge to correct his Aunt's description of Miss Bennet.
"Yes, and I am most seriously displeased at her reply," said Lady Catherine.
Darcy was now all ears, his voice now becoming calm and measured. "Why, what did she say Aunt?"
"Well, I had at least that satisfaction of knowing that you were not engaged, but she would not oblige me by promising not to enter into an engagement, and that is the reason for my coming here," was the determined response.
"But Aunt Catherine, surely such a refusal in itself does not mean that she would accept an offer. It might only mean that she resented your intrusion, and line of questioning. Perhaps she was as affronted by an idle report of an engagement to me, as you were, but was not prepared to discuss it with someone so wholly unconnected with her family. That, surely, is what a lady of breeding would do." This was delivered with a studied degree of unconcern, but Darcy now directed his mind to Lady Catherine's reply, much as a fox might direct his attention to a hen.
"My dear nephew," she said with some degree of exasperation, and a sniff of derision at the thought of Elizabeth Bennet being a lady of breeding. "I pride myself on my ability to judge the intentions of some types of women. I have taken an especial interest in those around you, and I am sure that you know the reason why." This reference to her hopes for his cousin Anne caused Darcy a momentary flicker of impatience, but she soon continued. "When this Miss Bennet dined with us at Rosings, it only took me two minutes to see that she had no interest in you. There was no danger from her then, and had there been, she would have been on the coach to Bromley the next morning, make no mistake. However, on my visit to Hertfordshire, it was an entirely different matter. She has changed her mind and will have you now. I could see it in her eyes and her voice when I mentioned your name. At that moment, I knew you were in peril. She will not rest until she has snared you Fitzwilliam. Miss Elizabeth Bennet is merely waiting till she can get you on your own, to use her arts and allurements for your ruin. But I knew how to act. You had to be informed to avoid being taken in. I trust that you at least, will know what to do now."
Darcy's heart leapt with hope, as he had hardly allowed himself to hope before, but he retained his composure. If his Aunt's judgment of Miss Bennet's state of mind at Rosings had been so good, then perhaps her judgment of the last day was also correct. He allowed himself a brief anticipation of the pleasures of being drawn in by Elizabeth Bennet's arts and allurements, and reflected that the man that married her must have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to his situation, that he could, upon the whole, have no cause to repine.
"Aunt Catherine, you have been most helpful. I shall go to Hertfordshire the day after tomorrow. I assure you that I shall act in the best interests of the Darcy name and fortune. I shall see to it that Miss Bennet is put in her rightful place, and there will be no more rumours of marriage. Would you now stay for some tea?"
Lady Catherine demurred with a smile, saying that since the hour was late, she must hurry back to her own residence. Darcy bowed as Lady Catherine made an exit that was a trifle more stately than her entrance.
He allowed himself the luxury of looking along the bookshelves for a particular book, one well used and familiar. He opened it thinking that this might be his favourite piece of English literature for the next few months, and the "beati omnes"* his most anticipated piece of poetry.
Darcy sat back in his favourite chair, book in hand, with an expression on his face that bespoke of the cat that had consumed the cream. "Yes!" He thought. "I shall most certainly go to Hertfordshire, and I most definitely intend that marriage between Miss Bennet and myself will be no rumour. Thanks to your information, I hope to put her in her rightful place - by my side as my wife. Thank you, dearest Lady Catherine! I am much obliged."
* Mr. Collins alluded to a line from the "beati omnes" in the book, and Darcy, along with all other hopefuls in the marriage stakes in England at that time would have known it by rote, since it is a psalm said/sung just after the priest has declared the bridal couple to be man and wife.
Part II
Darcy suddenly put the book down with a crash.
"Stupid man!" he shouted.
"Idiot! You are doing it again, aren't you?" he cried, suddenly furious with himself.
The door opened and his butler appeared with a look of alarm on his face. "Is anything the matter, Sir?"
Darcy reddened with embarrassment, realising that he had been talking to himself. "No, No, it is quite unimportant. You may go."
Darcy sat down again in his chair, with a look of thunder on his face. Had he not learned a thing over the last few months? He had proposed to Elizabeth at Hunsford in April, fully expecting acceptance, and what was the result? Yet here he was again, assuming that she would have him, imagining himself half married already. And on what basis? Lady Catherine's assessment - hardly impartial!
He forced himself to picture their last two days together. She had hardly said a word to him, hardly could look at him. Was this a woman wishing to use her arts and allurements? Teasing, teasing woman! As much as Darcy wanted to believe his Aunt's assessment of Elizabeth Bennet's state of mind, he feared that perhaps he hoped too much.
He rang the bell and called for a port before retiring for the night.
As he nursed a generous measure of that treacherous liquid, he reflected a little more on what his Aunt had said. The very least was that Miss Bennet had not decided against him. She was certainly frank enough to have acknowledged it openly if that were the case. With this he would have to be satisfied, and it was enough, along with the port, to conclude that he should go to Hertfordshire.
Darcy's nights had been tormented for several months. Upon retiring, he would think constantly of Elizabeth, where she was, what she was doing, picturing her in his mind, her voice, her hair, her scent, her face, imagining her with him. On wakening in the morning though, his thoughts were more intense and they shamed him, but he could not control them, coming as it were from sleep. He would think of her softness, close, close. He imagined kissing her hands, the insides of her wrists and her arms, her neck, her face, holding her tight, lying with her nested like a pair of spoons in a drawer, and more. It was wrong, he knew, but just as he could not control his love, he could not control these more carnal feelings. One morning after a particularly vivid dream, he observed ruefully that St Paul was right: it is better for a man to marry, than burn with lust.
This night was different though. On wakening, he had a vivid recollection of a very strange dream. He imagined that he was a cat, a tom cat, a very large ginger tom cat. And he had seen Elizabeth in the distance. He wanted her to pat him, to stroke his ears, to sit him in her lap, to play with him. Yet when he ran to her, tail up, she ran away, almost in fear, the faster he ran, the further she seemed to get away. Darcy hoped that this was not an omen.
The next night, Darcy arrived at Netherfield. The journey was uneventful, and Bingley greeted his friend with all the happiness that an engaged man in love normally exhibits.
Over their evening meal Bingley, made no secret of his happiness. Although too much of a gentleman to reveal the particulars of his solitary walks with Miss Bennet, his general demeanor and happiness told Darcy of his satisfaction in that direction. At length, Darcy could stand it no more. "Bingley, I beg you, let me hear no more of this! It is torture!"
Bingley looked at him with a smile, "Yes, Darcy, I know. However, considering your part in separating me from Jane these last few months, it is the very least that I can do for you. Did I tell you how well it feels to hold someone you love very close, the sweetness of her perfume, the softness of her body, the music of her voice?"
Darcy held his head in his hands, "Bingley, have mercy, please?"
"Darcy, I am visiting Jane tomorrow, and we shall wander into Meryton if the weather is fine. Perhaps Elizabeth might join us." Darcy looked up. "But then, perhaps she will not," continued Bingley with an impish grin.
The next morning the two friends set out early for Longbourn.
Bingley continued his discourses on the advantages that engagement to an agreeable woman can bring to a man, much to the chagrin of his companion.
"Oh look!" cried Bingley, "In that paddock over there, that stallion and that mare. Do you see them? What are they doing? Good Lord, it seems that everyone is in love! Perhaps you shouldn't look Darcy, you might become jealous." He teased.
Darcy said nothing, but spurred his horse ahead toward Longbourn, only a few furlongs away. Bingley's comment had come uncomfortably close to his own thoughts, and he did not wish to give his friend the satisfaction of knowing that.
"Stop Darcy!" cried Bingley.
Darcy reined in his horse and turned. "Whatever is the matter?" he said with a little asperity.
Bingley was almost gurgling with laughter. "Look at what you almost interrupted," he said with a laugh, and pointed to something on the side of the path.
Darcy squinted, and there they were. A very large ginger tom cat approaching a young female tabby cat from behind. The tom, whose intentions did not appear to Darcy to be honourable, approached very confidently. The tabby on the other hand appeared very cautious, and crouched down on her forepaws looking at him over her shoulder. He quickly leaped toward her. With that, she hissed, spat, slashed at him with her claws, and ran off at speed. He jumped back to avoid her claws, and mewled with feline disappointment.
"That arrogant young Tom should learn to behave in a more gentlemanlike manner if he wishes to get on." Intoned Bingley with a straight face.
The tom cat looked at Bingley, almost as though he understood him, washed his ears, preened his whiskers and headed off toward Longbourn at a bound.
Darcy winced, "Well that I recognise." Bingley, collapsed with laughter, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Let's go, my friend, before the ewes and rams in that flock of sheep coming down the lane cause you any more torment."
Darcy and Bingley knocked on the open door of the house, and waited. However, no one attended the door. Bingley pushed the door full open to hear Hill's voice at the rear of the house. "Get out you ugly thing, leave my poor tabby alone! Take that!" The ample figure of Hill hove into view, chasing the very ginger tom that they had seen just before. "Get out! Get out you beast!" The tom scampered out of broom range on the polished floor across the front of the staircase, just as Elizabeth ran downstairs to greet Darcy and Bingley. She did not see the cat, and her shoes connected with the tom's nether regions, causing him to yowl in agony and injured dignity before bolting out of the open door. Darcy and Bingley gasped in male solidarity with the tom's pain, as Elizabeth, losing her footing, fell into the surprised arms of Fitzwilliam Darcy.
Darcy had this sensation of lightness, softness and a faint perfume. Elizabeth pressed against him as she struggled to regain her balance. Her curls brushed his face, and he suddenly reddened as he realised that she was not wearing stays....It seemed he had two choices, either to drop her, which would be a terribly ungentlemanlike thing to do, or continue an unexpected, and not altogether proper, lesson in female anatomy. Under this state of confusion in his mind, his efforts to support Miss Bennet were apparently not as expert as they could have been, as she appeared to have a great deal of difficulty righting herself without support.
In all the confusion, nobody seemed to notice the small tabby cat sneak out of the door in the direction that the ginger tom had taken.
Part III
"Are you all right? Asked Darcy hoarsely.
He was scarcely in control of himself, scarcely aware of the presence of Hill and Bingley.
It was all he could do to stop himself from taking her in his arms and devouring her on the spot. He wanted her so badly.
With the last vestiges of control in his possession, he stopped himself. He reminded himself of the fate of the ginger tom in the lane as he had tried to jump at the tabby. That alone prevented Fitzwilliam Darcy, Master of Pemberley from throwing Elizabeth Bennet over his shoulders and carrying her away that very instant, consequences be damned!
He shook his head, trying to bring himself back to reality, to civilised behaviour. He suddenly realised that she was answering his question.
"Yes, yes." She replied confused, "Please excuse me. I need to..., I need to go to retie my ribbons. Would you two gentlemen be so good as to wait here until I can do that, and join my sisters in the sitting room? Hill can announce you then."
Both gentlemen bowed as Elizabeth quickly ran back up the stairs.
Darcy was in agony, and his friend, noticing this said helpfully, "Whoever marries Elizabeth Bennet will be a very fortunate man indeed. I could imagine that she may even be more passionate than Jane. Er...not that I should have any present knowledge of that." He stammered in embarrassment.
A few moments passed and Elizabeth came downstairs, carefully this time, slipping past the gentlemen, with her eyes downcast, into the sitting room.
Darcy had been watching her as she came down. "Why? Oh why did she not look at him? Did she not know how he felt?" He felt sick to his stomach, "How much more of this can a man take?"
Hill then announced them to the ladies in the sitting room.
After the niceties had been attended to, Bingley pronounced it to be a fine day, and suggested a walk to Meryton.
Elizabeth and Kitty agreed. Jane said nothing, but her general demeanour gave the impression that, had there been a raging blizzard outside, she would have willingly accompanied her fiancé.
The party had scarcely reached the gate to Longbourn, but Bingley and Jane had put a distance of two chains between themselves and the others. Darcy made a mental note to thank his friend. Now to get rid of Kitty.
"Oh look," said Kitty. "There is Hill's tabby up there in that tree."
"And there is Morris." Added Elizabeth, pointing to the ginger tom, slowly heading toward the tree, eyes on the tabby.
"Let me get her down." Offered Darcy gallantly.
"I think it better if I do, sir. She knows me, and will most likely let me take her down without protest." Replied Elizabeth.
Elizabeth moved to the tree and the suspended moggy, while Darcy and Kitty sat on a low stone fence close by.
Darcy was mesmerised by the sight of Elizabeth. He drank in the sight of her face and figure, and as she stretched out on tip toe to reach the cat, her petticoat lifted just enough to give him an intoxicating sight of a well turned calf.
This was too much for Darcy. He realised with horror and embarrassment that he would now not be able to stand up with decency. "Heavens! Why can I not control my impulses? What will she think of me?" His mind raced, he desperately tried to think of something else, anything else. "Poetry!" He thought. "Shall I compare thee to a summer's Day?" "No! No! That won't do at all!" A song came into his head, a west country song taught to him when he was twelve by an undergardener. "Lord, that is even worse!"
His desperate thoughts were suddenly interrupted as Elizabeth managed to pull the cat from the tree. Unfortunately, because of the height of the branch the tabby was on, Elizabeth failed to hold the cat, and it tumbled from her grasp, claws extended, right into Darcy's lap.
Darcy's eyes bulged as the claws sunk in through his trousers. The tom cat miaowed piteously in male solidarity with the pained human next to him, and then in surprise as the tabby fell upon him in turn.
Elizabeth gasped, and put her hand to her mouth, partly in horror, partly in amusement.
Kitty too was concerned. "You should take care that you don't get an inflammation there Mr. Darcy. That could be serious indeed."
Darcy did not feel that this was the time or place to reveal that the effect of cats in such circumstances could actually be anti-inflammatory, and that he was in fact obliged to Hill's tabby for solving his own particular problem.
Elizabeth said "You look pained Mr. Darcy. Is there anything I can do for your present relief?"
Under his breath Darcy replied, "Not until we are married, My Dear!"
"I beg your pardon sir, I did not quite hear that." Said Elizabeth.
"Er, I think we have tarried too long, I fear. See, Jane and Bingley are almost a furlong hence."
"Ooh! Look at Morris and Hill's tabby!" cried Kitty.
There was Morris approaching the tabby from behind. This time, he was very slow, very cautious, step by step. She was again looking at him over her shoulder, making a little growling sound. Slowly, slowly Morris lifted his forepaw and touched her back. She didn't move.
The ladies looked on fascinated. Darcy cleared his throat. "I don't think he means her any harm, he seems to be quite gentlemanlike. I suggest we go on our way."
With that he rose and they all continued toward Meryton.
Part IV
Kitty stopped and cocked her head to one side. One of the cats was hissing and spitting. Kitty stood like that for a second or so, then addressed her sister. "Lizzy, did you hear that? It sounded like someone said 'sic semper tyrannis' back there."
Darcy chuckled, "I think Morris and the tabby are coming to some sort of an understanding. I think you should leave them alone." Silently he thought "I wish you would leave us alone."
"Yes but!" said Kitty.
"I don't think either Morris or tabby would appreciate your interference Kitty. Sometimes it is better to leave people to themselves," said Elizabeth.
Darcy closed his eyes for a second, Thinking "Amen to that!" His mind was made up, now was the time to speak to Elizabeth, he could wait no more. Yet wait he must while Kitty remained.
They walked on in silence, Darcy with his mind in turmoil, not knowing what would be his reception, wanting to cast caution to the winds, wanting to hold her, to touch her, to kiss her, to feel her close, her mouth on his, her hair in his face. His thoughts and her nearness intoxicated him, he was losing control of his senses. His consciousness of the world was collapsing to the little part of Hertfordshire in a one foot radius from Elizabeth Bennet. Every part of her mattered, every thing she did, every nuance of her expression he saw, he sensed, but that was all, nothing else existed, nothing. He was now her creature, totally in her thrall.
He suddenly came to as she addressed him. Kitty was disappearing down a side lane. He had not even heard her take her leave, so preoccupied had he been.
She spoke of her gratitude for what he had done for her poor sister, and the debt her family owed. He stood in disbelief, all that effort to conceal what he had done was for naught. She had found out somehow.
No! He thought. How did she find out about his part in the marriage of Lydia and that man? "No Elizabeth, No! I don't want your gratitude. I want your love!" His thoughts shrieked at him.
He made some comment, he hardly knew what, to deflect his feelings of dread that she might not have him. "I must go on. I must!"
He screwed up his courage. "But your family owe me nothing. Much as I respect them, I believe, I though only of you."
"There!" He thought "Iacta est!" He sought her face for a clue, but she was looking the other way.
"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 matter forever."
He did not hear her answer, his mind was now in such a state that direct comprehension was impossible. But what he did understand was that she would have him. He almost cried with relief, was glad that she did not look at him to see the almost obscene look of joy that came over his face. "No one should be this happy," he thought.
After a few moments, they continued on making polite, yet increasingly familiar conversation. Darcy hardly knew in which direction they went. His mind was engaged now in the more pleasurable contemplation of whether he should attempt to steal a kiss. "Courage, Darcy. Courage!" he told himself. "You are engaged now, surely you can ask her?" "Perhaps tomorrow," he found himself thinking. "Coward!" he thought again.
His mental gyrations were interrupted suddenly when Elizabeth stumbled slightly, and fell against him.
His hand came up automatically, and supported her arm.
"Why, thank you Fitzwilliam dearest." She said, not letting go of his arm, her fingers seeking his. She turned to face him, still holding on, and looked him in the eyes with a strange intensity, her chin tilted upward, lips slightly parted.
"Dearest?" He thought, "Did I hear right, did she call me 'dearest'?" His heart leapt. He looked at her almost in disbelief.
Darcy again felt his consciousness of the world collapsing around him till it comprised only of her. He felt her willing him toward her, his lips toward hers, his other hand around her waist, her hand in his hair. As their lips met......
Sic semper tyrannis - lit. Thus always to tyrants. Reputedly said by J W Booth as he assassinated A. Lincoln. It could also be translated - "Please Malini when is the next installment of the eponymous tale?"Iacta est - It (the die) is cast. Reputedly said by Caesar as he crossed the Rubicon. Meaning either the die (as in dice) is cast, I am taking a chance, or the die (as in die casting) is cast, there is now no turning back - take your pick!
Chapter V
There were only four more days left before the weddings of Charles and Fitzwilliam to Jane and Elizabeth, and the two gentlemen were partaking of a port before retiring for the night at Netherfield.
They had just returned from Longbourn and the company of their intended brides, so the smugness and self satisfaction on the faces of both could well be imagined. Especially as on this particular night, Mr. and Mrs. Bennet had been dining out at the Lucases, leaving their daughters home. You will probably be very surprised to learn that no sooner had the parental carriage turned out of the gateway when Mary and Kitty were given obscure errands in the nether regions of the house, leaving the parlour and drawing rooms free. I am assured that no person reading this could be so dull as not to discern the motives of the two eldest Miss Bennets. But no matter how innocent of such things we may be, Darcy and Bingley were not that slow on the uptake, and saw through their flimsy veil of deception. Hence the smug looks of self satisfaction as they prepared to retire for the night.
Well, one of the faces was smug. Bingley carried a look of slight anxiety.
"Er, Darcy," he mumbled, slightly embarrassed. "I have something to ask, erm..." he faltered.
Darcy looked good-naturedly at his friend, although he probably would have looked at George Wickham indulgently in his present mood. Well, perhaps that might be stretching things a little. "Why, what is it Bingley, old chap? After such a night in such congenial company, I hardly think you would need to know anything."
"Well, that is the point. Well, at least I think it is." Bingley turned red.
"Well, what is the point man?" said Darcy, patiently.
"Well Jane, I mean Miss Bennet and I are.. er... getting along famously, er...very famously."
"Well, so am I with her sister. But I see no cause for alarm in that, we are going to be married in four days you know."
"Darcy, the point is, we have been getting on so famously that I am sure that Miss Bennet now entertains some high expectations of ...er...that part of our marriage. Since it has not been my habit to consort with ladies of easy ..I mean..." Here he broke down into an embarrassed silence.
What Bingley was getting at suddenly dawned on Darcy, and it further dawned on him that he was in the same predicament. His increasingly fervent encounters with Elizabeth had assured him that there was nothing wrong with his "wedding tackle" as he had overheard one of his more down to earth tenants describe it. Yet there is a big step, he realised with a rush, from knowing that you want to do something, to knowing exactly what that something is that you want to do. If that makes any sense at all.
Bingley was regarding his friend with an increasing degree of concern. He had thought that Darcy would be able to advise on this delicate matter, so that all would be right in four nights' time, but his friend's confused silence was starting to ring warning bells.
"You don't know what you are supposed to do any more than I, do you Darcy?"
Darcy had to admit the truth of this. However, being fairly clever, he was not going to let himself be defeated quite so easily.
"Well, we must ask someone." He said.
"Who?" Said Bingley. "Our fathers are no longer with us, our married acquaintances are in the country, and the only married man we know in these parts is Mr. Bennet. I hope you have the courage to ask him for instructions on the future comfort of his two favourite daughters, for I have not. The only other gentleman I can think of is Mr. Hurst, and he is yet in London, but in any case, I am afraid that the only thing he could advise on would be the best way to consume the wedding breakfast, if some of my sister Louisa's unguarded comments are anything to go by."
"Shush Bingley, I am thinking!" growled Darcy. "Eureka!" He cried. "In the library at Pemberley, there are some books on the subject. I have only browsed through them, but I know that they cover the field."
"That is no help at all," said his friend in disgust. "In this weather, an express will take three days each way to get to Derbyshire and back, what use is that?"
"Yes Bingley, but you have a library don't you?"
Bingley hung his head in shame. "But I have neglected to equip it so er..comprehensively." Charles Bingley, was becoming acutely aware of the value of a good library.
Darcy was now bent over, his head in his hands. "And the circulating library is closed."
Chapter VI
Darcy looked up. "Colonel Fitzwilliam!" He declared. "He is a soldier, surely he'll know what to do."
With that he announced his intention to go to bed, and leave to see the Colonel first thing the next morning.
Darcy was up at the crack of dawn, and off to London where the Colonel's regiment was stationed.
It was three thirty when he reached the barracks, and luckily, espied Col. Fitzwilliam.
He hailed his cousin. "Fitzwilliam, I say!" The Colonel, who had been speaking with one of his soldiers, smiled at Darcy.
"You are dismissed Sar Major!" Said the Colonel.
Sergeant Major Buffy put his wooden pace stick under his arm, saluted and marched off as if propelled by clockwork.
"Darcy, you look rather anxious. You aren't getting pre-marriage jitters are you?"
Darcy was getting pre-marriage jitters, but as he opened his mouth to speak, so did the platoon sergeant of a platoon of soldiers drawn up in three ranks at two chains distance, completely drowning him out.
"PLATOON! ATTEN.........SHUN! ASYOUWERE! PRIVATE MCMANUS, YOU 'ORRIBLE NASTY LITTLE SPECIMEN! ADJUST YOUR CHINSTRAP OR I'LL 'AVE YOU FLOGGED!
"Ah!" said the Colonel calmly. "Sergeant Haker is in a benign mood today."
PLATOON! ATTEN........SHUN!
"Colonel, I must speak to you about..."
"PLATOON! SLOPE..........ARMS! THAT INCLUDES YOU PRIVATE JENKINS!
Darcy was getting flustered. "...about..."
"PLATOON! WILL MOVE TO THE RIGHT IN COLUMN OF THREES!........RIGHT....WAIT FOR IT PRIVATE JOLING OR YOU'LL BE DOUBLING ROUND THE PARADE GROUND AT THE 'IGH PORT......TURN!
"Colonel, can't we go somewhere and....."
"PLATOON! BY THE RIGHT! QUICK.......MARCH! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! PRIVATE WOLLSTONECRAFT! YOU'RE OUT OF STEP! AND GET YOUR 'AIR CUT, YOU LOOK LIKE A GIRL! THAT 'AIRISSOLONGTHEMANBEHINDISALMOSTTRIPPINGONIT! INFACTTHE'OLELOTOFYOULOOKLIKEGIRLS!!!!!!!LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT! RIGHT! LEFT!
Darcy opened his mouth to say something, but this time the Colonel broke in. "Sorry Darcy, will you excuse me for a second." He turned to face the armed platoon heading past. "Heaven, preserve me!" Thought Darcy, grinding his teeth. "No wonder those colonials in America defeated us."
"PLATOON! BY THE LEFT! EYES............LEFT! After a check pace and on the next, thirty three heads and eyes snapped to the left, with the Colonel at attention, returning the compliment.
"PLATOON! EYES..........FRONT! BY THE RIGHT! PRIVATE RANDOLPH, ARE YOU SQUARE GAITING? CORPORAL MUKHOPADHYAY! MAKESURETHESEMENGETANEXTRAHOUROFDRILLTONIGHT! IWANTTHEMMARCHINGBACKANDFORTHSOMUCHTHEY'LLWEARA'OLEINTHEPARADEGROUNDSODEEPONLYTHEIR'ATSWILLBEVISIBLE!
The Colonel turned apologetically to Darcy. "I'm sorry about that, the British Army has a saying, "If it moves, salute it, and if it doesn't move, you either paint it, or..." at this he reddened.
"..or what, Colonel?" Said Darcy. The Colonel sidled up to Darcy and whispered in his ear. Now it was Darcy's turn to go red. "I see! But now you mention it, it is about that subject that I wish to speak, er...considering my approaching nuptials. Fitzwilliam, since you are a soldier, I am hoping you might be able to enlighten me on the mechanics of the process, so that I shall not embarrass myself three nights hence."
Fitzwilliam frowned, "But I am as yet unmarried myself. Why do you think I should know any more than you?"
"But you are in the army, er.. camp followers and all that, you know." Said Darcy, a little nonplussed.
"Yes! Yes! But it is only the men who actually do that sort of thing! He wrinkled his nose in disgust. Officers are content to merely talk about it over port when there is nothing interesting to discuss. We are gentlemen, you know."
"What in heaven's name am I to do?" Darcy paced back and forth.
"Darcy, all I can suggest is that you visit the married men of your acquaintance in London and ask one of them. Oh, and when you find out, I should be indebted to you if you would tell me." The Colonel then wished him well in his quest, and bade him good day.
Darcy spent the next hour of daylight visiting the houses of his married friends. To a man, they were in the country - he was defeated, his expedition to London a failure. He retired morosely to his town house and slept fitfully.
The next day, he returned to Hertfordshire, and with Bingley, set off to dine with the Bennetts for the last time before the wedding. Both men were now conscious of their ignorance in an essential matter, and it weighed heavily on their minds. As they rode toward the gates, they drew up short, as Hill's tabby cat with four kittens in tow, walked in front of their horses. And there was Morris the ginger tom cat, sitting on the fence, licking his paws, looking at them, mocking them, as if to say, "No one had to tell me what to do!" Bingley and Darcy looked at each other grimly. That cat was no help at all.
They rode on past a group of children who were singing nursery rhymes:
There was an old woman/ who lived in a shoe.
She had so many children/ she didn't know what to do!
As the children sang "..didn't know what to do.", it may have been a coincidence, but they all chose that moment to look at the approaching gentlemen. Bingley whispered to Darcy, "The old woman may not have known what to do, but her husband obviously did!" Darcy merely groaned.
In the house at Longbourn, Mrs Bennet was indulging in the nerves that inevitably accompany the culmination of years of planning. Here were two of her daughters to be married in one day after this, and Mrs Bennett's nerves, never good at the best of times, were being tested on every count, the food, the gowns, the guests, the flowers, the synagogue. Yet she steeled herself. "Only one day after this and it will all be over, nothing must go wrong!" She looked out of the window and gasped. The two suitors were there, but with their long faces, it seemed to her overwrought brain that they were having second thoughts.
"Jane, Lizzy" she cried. "There is something wrong! Darcy and Bingley have faces like thunder."
"Perhaps it is something to do with what happened between them when you were away, dining with the Lucases the other night." Said Mary primly. "Lizzy and Jane sent me off to father's library to read the "Vindication of the Rights of Woman," but I know they were up to something with the Gentlemen."
"And they sent me upstairs to line that new bonnet," piped Kitty with a prurient look on her face.
"Hush, will you!" Hissed Jane and Elizabeth in unison, but it was too late. Mrs Bennett had heard and now feared the worst; two daughters ruined, and their suitors now with ardour considerably cooled.
Mrs Bennett's jaw dropped. "Jane, Lizzy! How could you? No wonder they are having second thoughts! How could you have been so stupid as to let them...let them..." she choked on the words. "...let them know we have a copy of 'Vindication of the Rights of Woman.' What gentleman would ever wish to marry a woman who is just as clever as himself? (At this, Mr Bennett had the decency to look sheepish and disappear into his library). Oh my poor nerves! What is to become of us? It will all come to naught!"
Her outpourings were halted by Hill announcing the two gentlemen. However, for the next hour her spirits sank lower and lower, as neither the two gentlemen, nor their sweethearts said one word past what civility demanded. Finally, she could stand it no more, and excused herself to go to the kitchen to check on dinner.
At length, Hill opened the door and announced more visitors. "Mr and Mrs Gardiner."
Darcy and Bingley looked at each other as do condemned men on the gallows - when the trapdoor fails to work. Mr Gardiner! A married man!! A sensible married man!!! A sensible married man with children!!!! We are saved! Smiles wreathed their faces; and the looks on the faces of Jane and Elizabeth as they regarded Mrs Gardiner, mirrored those of their lovers.
"Er, Mr Gardiner, would you care to join us for a walk in the garden? There is something we would talk with you about."
"Why certainly gentlemen," returned Mr Gardiner pleasantly. He turned to his wife. "My dear?" He said with an easy smile which she returned. Mrs Gardiner opened her handbag in silence, produced a parcel wrapped in brown paper, and handed it to her husband. With that he headed outside, with Darcy and Bingley in hot pursuit.
Elizabeth remarked to her Aunt that the men looked just like Hill's tabby with her kittens.
Mr Gardiner marched purposefully toward a bench with some seats in the corner of the garden.
"Gentlemen," He said. "I just happened to be looking through my library the other day, and I came across this old book with wood cut prints. I know you to be experts on books, so I thought I would ask for your opinion on its value. I should warn you though, the subject matter is a little indelicate." He paused a little, just enough for the import of what he was saying to get through to the two bridegrooms-to-be. "However, since you are soon to be married, I feel sure that you will overlook the indelicacy." With that he undid the wrapping on the book, which he then presented to the gentlemen, bowed and walked away. It is fortunate that he did not look back, or he would have seen Bingley and Darcy crack their heads together in their anxiety to become better informed.
When Mrs Bennett finally returned to her parlour to summon them all to dinner, she was greeted with smiles and cheers. She was rendered speechless. The torments endured by the lovers were over.
In concluding this story, it must be said that with the Gardiners, they were always on the most intimate terms. Darcy and Bingley, as well as Elizabeth and Jane, really loved them; and they were all ever sensible of the warmest gratitude towards the persons who had been the means of uniting them.
The End
"Miaow!"