Longbourn's Songbird

by Beau North

  He knew that Elizabeth could not be bought. Her respect, her love, had to be earned. He had to consider the possibility that she was still in love with Richard. He looked out the window, watching them dance together. Richard smiled down at her with a soft look Darcy had never seen on his cousin’s face. He said something, and she laughed, looking up at him. God, but they spark. How could I compare with that—great lumbering dullard that I am?

  He slammed the shutter closed a little too roughly, suddenly furious. In that moment, he might have even hated her. The thought gave him new energy. Yes, he could hate her dark eyes filled with secrets, her cautious smiles. He hated the weakness she wrought in him. He hated her for Richard, cursing her for being a stupid, lovesick girl. It felt good to hate her. It felt a lot like giving up.

  That was how Caroline found him several minutes later, sitting forward on the couch with his head in his hands in the dimly lit room: giving up.

  “There you are.” Darcy looked up, bleary-eyed and exhausted. Caroline leaned in the doorway, a glass of scotch in either hand. He was ready with a retort when he took in her flimsy dress and knowing smile, and he reconsidered, wondering whether he had it in him to fully commit to giving up.

  “Come here, Caroline.”

  She slinked over and sat down close enough to press herself against him, her musky perfume filling the air. Darcy thought it was too heavy, too obvious. It was perfectly Caroline.

  “I thought I’d bring you a little something…for the pain.” She nodded at his knuckles, but he knew her meaning. He took the glass she offered and raised it in salute.

  “To the pain,” he said, knocking it back in one swallow.

  Warmth filled his throat and chest, spreading like liquid fire to his limbs. His mind floated for a moment, happily numb, before the iciness in his chest brought him back down. He took her glass without asking and drank it down as well, for a second forgetting his traitorous heart and his vow to never drink again—made only that morning.

  He shifted on the couch so that he faced her. The soft light in the room shadowed her eyes, but that suited him fine. He did not need the light to know what Caroline was thinking. She licked her lips, looking at him expectantly.

  Darcy reached out and put his hand on Caroline’s shoulder, fingering the thin strap of her one-shouldered dress. One quick, hard twist was enough to snap the wispy material. The top of her dress slid off her shoulder and fluttered to her waist, exposing her bare breasts.

  He took in the sight of her, feeling resigned. Her skin was creamy white, the tips of her small breasts a delicate shade of shell pink. His hands reached out and touched her halfheartedly. Leaning down, he kissed the base of her throat. Caroline moaned and started to unbutton his pants. He moved forward to allow her more room. Neither of them heard the door open.

  A sharp gasp made him look up. Elizabeth gripped the door handle as if it were the only thing holding her up, her eyes huge in her face. To say his heart sank would never do it justice. Looking into Elizabeth’s shocked eyes, in that moment he felt every cruel thing he had ever done, every sin, great or small.

  He moved back immediately, causing Caroline to turn around to see what was distracting him. He did not miss the way she smiled at her rival, a shark smelling blood in the water. She gathered the front of her dress up to cover her nakedness.

  “You really should learn to knock, Eliza.”

  ***

  Elizabeth felt her gorge rise. She wanted to run—or sink into the floor. Instead, she erupted into a fit of nervous laughter.

  This clearly wasn’t the reaction Caroline had hoped for. Her scowl only made Elizabeth laugh more hysterically until she noticed Darcy hastily buttoning his pants. Her laughter died suddenly, and she turned and ran from the room as fast as she could. She kept her eyes down, her mind spinning.

  She almost ran headfirst into Richard, who put a hand on either arm to steady her.

  “Whoa, easy there!” He took in her face, her tear-bright eyes, and knew that something was wrong.

  “What’s going on?” He looked over her shoulder to see a frantic Darcy coming out of the study. A moment later, Caroline appeared in the half-open door behind him, barely covering herself. Richard’s face darkened, and he looked back at Elizabeth.

  “Are you all right?” he asked as Darcy approached, calling for her to wait.

  “Can you get me out of here?” she asked Richard desperately.

  “Can you still ride?”

  “God, yes. Right now I’d flap my arms and fly if I could.”

  “Elizabeth, don’t go!” Darcy shouted from behind her. She closed her eyes, tears cutting through the makeup she’d applied so carefully for the party.

  “Leave it, D.”

  She couldn’t see what was happening behind her, but she didn’t dare turn around. How could she have let this happen again?

  Richard put his arm around her shoulders, whisking her away to the garage. She climbed up behind him on the back of his motorcycle as easily as she had three years ago. Her arms went around Richard’s waist as the bike came to life beneath them. He was solid and reassuring, the smell of him familiar and not. She felt safe to put her face against his back, succumbing to her tears as he carried her away into the night.

  ***

  Darcy stood at the door for several long moments after watching them ride away. Looking at things now, it was probably the wisest course. He had a thousand hurtful things he wanted to say to them both, but the worst he reserved for himself. How would he ever redeem himself? He didn’t see how he ever could. There was no going back. He shook his head and rested it on the cool window glass.

  This was what he thought he wanted less than ten minutes ago—to be free of her. His mouth was dry and tasted of booze and Caroline. Her hand on his arm reminded him that he was not alone.

  “Should we pick up where we left off before we were so rudely interrupted?”

  Darcy shrugged her hand off and turned around to look at Caroline. He sighed wearily. There was nothing stopping them of course, except for himself. Everything about it would have been wrong. He had condemned himself to loneliness, and his conscience spoke up at last.

  “It’s never going to happen, Caroline.”

  “Don’t tell me you care what that little farm girl thinks,” Caroline said uneasily.

  “I care. More than ever, I care.”

  “It can’t matter now.” Caroline hissed. “I know all about her and that cousin of yours!”

  “Oh?” Darcy turned and looked at her sharply. “And how did you come by this information, seeing as how neither one of them has ever spoken of it?”

  Realization struck him. Of course. He felt as if he found the missing piece of a puzzle.

  “That’s why you invited him, wasn’t it? You wanted Richard to come here and sweep her off her feet. Or at least darken her reputation a little.”

  The guilty look on her face was enough confirmation. Darcy shook his head and laughed. He could not help it.

  “You played a good game, Caroline. You should be running companies instead of throwing parties.”

  “I wasn’t playing a game,” Caroline said heatedly. “This is what I want.”

  Darcy only smirked, leaning against the wall.

  “We all want what we want, but let’s you and I not pretend. You’ve never given a damn about me. It’s my money you love. I’ve known you a long time, seen the men you target—wealthy men.”

  “Well, I have better taste than some.” Darcy went back to looking out the window. He felt a strange lightness in his mind like a hard decision was being made. They had all been stuck in limbo since Richard arrived. Now the path forward was clear.

  “Don’t worry, Caroline,” he said absently. “If it makes you feel any better, I didn’t win either. You and I just saw to that. A woman like that comes along once in a lifetime, I’ll bet. Someone to fill the gaps you didn’t even realize were there until you knew her.”

  “Oh, spare me.”<
br />
  “Good God, are you still here? Never mind. It’s late. I’m off to bed. I’ll be leaving first thing tomorrow, though I think Richard may stay on a bit longer.”

  Caroline stood alone in the dark hallway long after Darcy left, shaking in fury. She’d played herself into a corner, and she had no clear way out. Eliza Bennet was taken care of, for all intents and purposes, but Darcy still would not have her.

  He’d been right, of course. She’d chosen him because he seemed like the kind of man who would be perfectly happy to leave her to her own devices once married. Her extravagant tastes were depleting the money her father had left her, less than half of what her brother had received.

  Bingley had taken his money and grown it, while Caroline’s dwindled. Not that her brother wouldn’t do anything for her or Louisa; he’d proved that more than once as children, taking the beatings meant for his sisters. What Caroline wanted was freedom—freedom from being shackled to her brother or her father’s money.

  She stalked angrily back to her room, holding up the ruins of her dress. The party was entirely forgotten.

  ***

  Richard drove them for over an hour, speeding along back roads, past houses and swamps and fields full and fallow. Elizabeth had almost forgotten what it felt like, sitting on the back of a motorcycle. With her face pressed against his warm back, it came back to her in a rush. She still loved the feeling of flying close to the ground, the wind whipping her hair around her face. Time slowed down and she began to hope that they would never go back, never stop. She liked the thought that they would always be there, riding along country roads on an endless moonlit night.

  When he did return her to Longbourn, its occupants still three miles away at Netherfield, she took his hand and led him wordlessly to a path in the garden that ended under the canopy of a weeping willow. She turned, resting her back against the tree, and grabbed handfuls of his shirt, pulling him to her in a heavy kiss.

  Richard was more than happy to return the favor. Kissing her now brought back memories he thought he’d buried with the bones of his former self.

  Bed-rumpled but still fully dressed, he removed the last of her clothes. He sat back to look at her, all of her, and while the color rose to her face, she didn’t try to hide herself from him. His voice shook as he asked,

  “Who are you, you beautiful girl?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Jane had always disliked the hard, uncomfortable furniture in Longbourn’s sitting room. It was the only room in the house that was kept spotlessly clean without the kind of clutter that came from having a house full of women. The fact that they were in this room spoke volumes about what was happening between the other two women present. Jane saw their location as a purely political act on her sister’s part.

  Charlotte Lucas sat in one of the stern wingback chairs across from her while Elizabeth chose to stand looking out the window, her arms crossed over her chest in a way that struck Jane as very Darcy-like.

  “Lizzie…” Charlotte began quietly, but Elizabeth didn’t give her the chance to finish.

  “You can’t go through with this, Charlotte.”

  “Lizzie, really,” Jane said. “This is hardly appropriate.”

  “Everything is settled,” Charlotte said in the smallest of voices. Elizabeth turned and looked at her with narrowed eyes.

  “What do you mean? Are you saying you’ll call it off?”

  “No, Lizzie. Everything is already settled for me to marry Mr. Collins. I can’t go back on it now.”

  Elizabeth came forward, kneeling in front of her friend, gathering Charlotte’s hands in her own.

  “You don’t have to, Charlotte. You’ll meet another—You’ll meet someone else—someone who can make you happy.”

  “And what would you propose, Lizzie? I’m not like you, any of you. You and Jane have more chance of marrying for love than I ever will, and you know it.”

  Jane stepped forward at that. “Charlotte, you mustn’t think that.”

  “Jane, please.” Charlotte took a deep, shuddering breath before continuing. “You couldn’t understand… You’ve always been admired, both of you. I never held it against you, any of you…but you can’t understand what it’s like…”

  “I wouldn’t say that.” Jane was surprised to feel a bit of heat in her voice. “You think I’ve had men lining up? How many suitors did I have before Charles? None. They might like my face, but they’d never want a wife with my…condition. And if you think Lizzie’s had it easy, let me be the first to tell you how wrong you are. She has suffered, and for you to just assume—”

  “That’s enough, Jane,” Elizabeth said, a small smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. She turned back to Charlotte with imploring eyes.

  “Please, Charlotte. Don’t do it. If your father won’t let you back in the house after that, you can live here at Longbourn with us.”

  “And do what, Elizabeth? Live off your parents’ charity for the rest of my life? Be the laughingstock of Meryton? Die an old maid, without children?”

  “I had no idea you wanted children so badly.”

  “Why would you think that?” Charlotte closed her eyes, taking a deep breath.

  “Charlotte.” Elizabeth pleaded. “I am begging you not to do this. Please. He’s not good. I’m afraid that you will be mistreated!”

  “Of course,” Charlotte said, her voice heavy with sarcasm. “Eliza Bennet is the only good judge of character in all of Hertford County. How silly of me to forget!”

  “Char, he can’t make you happy, and you know it!”

  “What would you know about it?”

  To Jane’s astonishment, Elizabeth gathered herself and leaned forward, kissing Charlotte on the mouth. Jane had seen the two exchange light kisses before—in greeting, in friendship—and this one was neither.

  Charlotte pushed Elizabeth away from her, yanking her hands out of Elizabeth’s grip. She stood shakily, looking down at her best friend. Every line of her face was livid with betrayal.

  “How dare you!”

  “I’m sorry, Charlotte! I had to try!” Elizabeth said miserably.

  “Try what, exactly? What could you be thinking?” Charlotte started to storm out but stopped and turned back to them. “I’m actually glad I came here today, do you know that? I might have felt badly about my marriage, like I was disappointing you somehow. Now I won’t bother.”

  “Charlotte, really!” Jane said beseechingly, stricken by the other girl’s harsh words.

  “You will never speak of this to anyone. Either of you,” and with those parting words, Charlotte left, slamming the door behind her.

  Jane rushed to her sister’s side, holding her as she cried, stroking her hair. She was worried about how much more Elizabeth could handle in such a short span of days.

  “My dear Lizzie. What was that all about, hmm?”

  “I guess…I guess we’ll never know for sure,” Elizabeth said between sobs.

  ***

  Though she loved the old farmhouse, the stairs were becoming more of a challenge to Fanny Bennet than they had been in years past, so much so that, two years prior, she had begged her husband that they renovate one of the rooms downstairs into a new master bedroom. At the time, she claimed that the girls were too noisy and she wanted a room on the other side of the house. Thomas had raised an eyebrow at her but said nothing, and in the end, he had agreed.

  Now she found herself slowly making her way up the stairs for the first time in months, her knees protesting all the way. She spent a restless night tossing and turning. Now that everything between Bingley and Jane was settled, Fanny had taken a good look at her second eldest, and she was surprised by what she’d seen. She and Elizabeth had always had a troubled relationship, and Fanny knew that her daughter could not shoulder the blame for it alone.

  She had been difficult from the beginning. Fanny had felt more ill and tired when carrying Elizabeth than she had with any of her other children. She’d been so weak that her labo
r was long and astonishingly painful. When the doctor had finally put Elizabeth in her arms, perfect and healthy and pink, all Fanny could feel was relief that the ordeal was over and a shameful resentment that this beautiful child had caused her so much trouble.

  She reached the tidy little room Elizabeth once shared with Jane before their parents had moved downstairs and given Jane their old room. Mr. Bennet had made Elizabeth several bookshelves, which she had easily filled over the years, giving the room the hint of musty book smell. The bedroom windows were closed and the curtains drawn, making the room hot and close. Elizabeth lay on her back in her bed, looking listlessly up at the ceiling. She sat up in surprise at her mother’s appearance in her room.

  “Is everything all right, Mama?”

  Mrs. Bennet shut the door behind her and walked over to the other side of the room, raising the window. It was a gray day with a light rain pattering against the heavy leaves of the magnolia tree outside the window. She turned around to face her daughter.

  “You tell me if everything is all right, young lady.”

  Elizabeth’s put-upon sigh was every bit her father’s, and Fanny knew perfectly well how to handle that. She sat down on the bed next to her daughter.

  “Which one is it,” she asked. “Mr. Darcy or the lanky fellow?”

  Elizabeth looked at her mother in surprise. “Mama—”

  “You must think your old ma is blind as well as silly, Elizabeth. Your father might have the brains between the two of us, but in matters of the heart, he’s no wiser than any other man.”

  Elizabeth started to smile, impressed with her mother, when her face crumpled into tears. Mrs. Bennet pulled her daughter into her arms and rocked her gently, rubbing little circles on her back.

  “You let it all out, Lizzie. And then we’ll talk.”

  When Elizabeth felt she had cried herself out, she haltingly told her mother a heavily edited version of events, beginning the day she almost fell to her death in Charleston and ending with catching Darcy necking with Caroline Bingley.