by J Dawn King
"What are you saying, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy was afraid to hope, yet it started flickering in his heart as he gazed upon her tenderly. She was all that was beautiful and appealing to him. As their time in the library passed, his affection for her grew. She was a woman like no other of his acquaintance.
Elizabeth thought carefully how she would word her answer. She did not want to give him hope if there was none. Yet, her emotions were roiling like the eddy that swirled around and around the creek at high water.
"Sir, you are correct when you assumed that I love a debate. I admire a man who can hold his own and even best me on occasion." She was surprised at his chuckle, a sound foreign to her ears. He was most handsome when he smiled, the kind of handsome that made taking more than one breath in a row a challenge. This new approachability made it easier for what she had to say. "I am ashamed to admit that I have suffered from an overabundance of pride myself. For as long as I can remember, I have allowed my first impressions to rule my attitude and conduct towards others. It is difficult for me to admit that I might have been in error. If I have been so with you, might I not have also been unfairly judgmental with others? It is a matter of shame that I have been so unaware of my own limitations."
"Please do not be so hard on yourself, Miss Elizabeth. You are not the first to imply that my reticence translated as arrogance. None of this was your fault." Darcy had not realized he was holding his breath until he exhaled before speaking. Her modesty coupled with her intelligence and concern for others would make her shine as Mistress of Pemberley. He thought back on how she had attempted to corral the boisterousness of her younger sisters and steer them to better conduct and realized that she was the perfect sister to his own. He knew then that he had much to repair with Elizabeth and he vowed to start now.
"May we agree to begin again, Miss Elizabeth?"
She gave this question careful thought. There was a part of her heart that rejoiced in his admiration. He was a great man in England and the thought that he had chosen her ahead of the debutantes of society and Caroline Bingley was balm to her. They had much more to bring to a courtship; wealth, position, titles. She had only her charms to recommend her and Elizabeth admitted to herself that she had made no effort to use those charms on Mr. Darcy.
"Mr. Darcy, we are two people with strong personalities, would you not agree?" At his nod, she continued. "It might be the greatest challenge that either of us has undertaken, but I am willing to start again. The least that can happen is that we will be left with a friend. That is the most I can promise at this time."
He rejoiced. He had hope and he loved a challenge.
CHAPTER FIVE – CAROLINE
Miss Caroline Bingley was feeling very satisfied with the events of the day. Miss Jane Bennet was confined to the upstairs guest bedchamber with ill health that would keep her from her brother, Charles's, presence. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had been all but ignored by Mr. Darcy this morning at the breakfast table. Elizabeth had absented herself from the company that Netherfield Park offered during the afternoon, which delighted Caroline. There was no telling where Elizabeth had disappeared to. Most likely she was wandering the prettyish kind of little wilderness surrounding the estate and would return with her hem covered six inches deep in mud and her hair blown into a frazzle. This thought delighted Caroline and she smirked at the thought of Darcy discovering his favorite in that condition.
The past two days had seen Darcy and Elizabeth often in conversation to the exclusion of the others in the household. This had been a source of extreme irritation and worry to Caroline. It was Caroline's purpose to have Mr. Darcy observe her skills as an elegant hostess, as an attractive companion, and as the future mistress of Pemberley in Derbyshire, Mr. Darcy's ancestral home. Any interference from the Bennet sisters was not to be borne.
Mr. Darcy was a handsome man with a commanding presence. He had wealth and his family name was powerful. In Caroline Bingley's mind, there was no better match for her to be had. She had no clue as to the gentleman's feelings on the matter, nor did his feelings matter to her overmuch. It was the end result that was her goal. Miss Elizabeth was firmly standing in her way and Caroline was resolute in crushing any attraction between the two.
It had been after Miss Elizabeth had retired upstairs the night before, that the campaign to remind Charles and Mr. Darcy of the poor qualifications of the Bennet sisters to be amongst such elevated society had begun.
"Eliza Bennet," said Miss Bingley, when the door was closed on Elizabeth as she returned upstairs to care for her sister, "is one of those young ladies who seek to recommend themselves to the other sex by undervaluing their own; and with many men, I dare say, it succeeds. But, in my opinion, it is a paltry device; a very mean art."
"Undoubtedly," replied Darcy, to whom this remark was chiefly addressed, "there is a meanness in all the arts which ladies sometimes condescend to employ for captivation. Whatever bears affinity to cunning is despicable."
Caroline, in her arrogance, had no clue that Mr. Darcy was referring to her as he expressed his opinion. His apparent agreement with her conclusions fueled her elevated opinion of herself. It was now time to put the next step of her plan into action. Caroline was confident that her words from the night before had planted serious doubts in Mr. Darcy's mind about the suitability of continuing acquaintance with someone so below him. He would be ripe for her to step in and smooth his transition from the undeserving Elizabeth Bennet to the extremely deserving Caroline.
***
Darcy was astonished at all that Elizabeth had revealed about her inner thoughts and feelings. Yes, he could concur that they both had strong personalities. It was one of the many things that appealed to him about her. From there, it was an easy step for him to visualize the future where they might have periods of passionate disagreements followed by periods of passionate atonement. He had not realized that the smile he was feeling on the inside had transmitted itself to his face.
Elizabeth gazed at him in wonder. Until this time in the library, she had viewed him as unable to be anything but somber. The change in his facial features was magnificent. That Darcy could look on the follies and foibles of humanity with pleasure rather than disdain was shocking to her. Yet, it pleased her to find that, in this one thing, she had been blatantly wrong.
Noticing that he had emptied his teacup, she again poured it; one sugar and no cream. The sound of the clock ticking and the need to speak in hushed tones had again taken their rightful place in the library. The storm had settled, and the period of tranquility was welcomed.
Unbeknownst to both Darcy and Elizabeth, Caroline Bingley had arrived outside the door. The russet-headed woman stopped and smoothed her hair, pinched her cheeks and, taking both hands, quickly lifted her breasts from underneath to mound over the top of her plunging neckline. Her assets screamed to be shown to their greatest advantage. Only the footman was eyewitness to her grooming. It took the utmost diligence not to indicate by his facial expression that he had or had not enjoyed the sight.
Caroline had known that Darcy was typically found in the library most afternoons. There would be no one to interrupt them. When she entered the room, she could see the side of his head towering over the back of the chair that faced the fireplace on the right. His cup and saucer were on the table and she easily imagined him absorbed with a book in his hand. The side of his face was partially turned to her and she was captivated by the welcoming smile on his profile. He must have heard my approach. It was heartwarming to comprehend that he recognized the light, elegant tapping of her steps as she floated across the marble floors from the drawing room to the library. He is all anticipation!
"Mr. Darcy," she purred, dropping her voice and rolling the "r" of his surname.
Distracted by the beautiful woman in front of him, Darcy failed to hear Caroline's approach. At her greeting, he jumped to his feet and turned to face her. Not wanting Caroline to know that Elizabeth was seated across from him, he stepped between the two wingback c
hairs and bowed. He had noticed Elizabeth's head pivot toward the sound, but she had not moved from her position other than to pull the cup and saucer she was holding closer to her. The large chair hid her tiny form.
"Miss Bingley, how may I be of service?" Darcy focused his gaze just over Caroline's left shoulder to the doorway. He refused to allow his eyes to linger anywhere on her person.
"Oh, come now, Mr. Darcy." Caroline lightened her voice as she walked closer. She was thrilled to see Darcy taking the steps to meet her in the middle of the room. Her plan of being alone with him was working out better than she had imagined. "We have been friends far too long to stand on ceremony. You may call me Caroline, or, if you are feeling affectionate, Caro." In her dreams, as he drew close for their first kiss, he softly whispered "Caro". She almost shivered in expectation.
"Miss Bingley, I ask again, how may I be of service?" Darcy was frustrated that his time alone with Elizabeth had been interrupted. He felt like he had made some progress, both in determining his feelings and in determining hers.
"Mr. Darcy, I have long known that we are perfect for each other." She took another step towards Darcy. One more step and they would almost touch; her chest to his. She felt warmth creeping up her torso and an itch in the palm of her hands. One more step and she could cup his cheeks and run her hands to the back of his head to capture the locks that rested on the back of his neck, curled in invitation. Her breathing became shallow. "Our being united in marriage would give you what you always wanted — me as your wife and Charles as your brother. We are destined for each other."
Enraptured by her own words and imagination, she made a bold leap forward, catching him around the neck with both arms. Caroline did not expect what happened next.
"Miss Bingley!" Darcy grabbed her arms and, in a move reminiscent of his childhood struggles with his cousin Richard Fitzwilliam, twisted her until Caroline's arm was behind her back and she was facing the library entrance. Before the adrenaline could settle, he marched her to the library doorway, pushed her through, and closed the door firmly behind her. Darcy bowed his head with his forehead resting on the hard oak surface of the door as he identified Caroline's shrieks and stomping feet moving up the main staircase to the family quarters. It took long moments before his breathing returned to normal.
Completely unnoticed was the grin on the usually passive face of the footman.
Darcy shook his head in confusion, feeling the wood grind into his forehead. He wanted to bash it into the hardwood, over and over. How had Caroline Bingley ever come to think that I would return her affection?
It was not until he stepped back from the door and inhaled and exhaled with force that he heard the light sound of Elizabeth's laughter.
What am I going to do now?
CHAPTER SIX – CLARIFICATION
Darcy turned slowly until he faced the fireplace. Elizabeth was peeking around the chair, only her eyes and the top of her head visible. He was captivated by those eyes. They sparkled with laughter and he knew that in his lifetime, he had never seen anything as lovely.
Elizabeth pointed the index finger of her left hand around the chair to a point beyond Darcy. He looked behind him, realized the door was closed, and hurriedly turned to right the situation. It would not do to compromise Miss Elizabeth. He respected her too much to do so and he loved her enough to not force her into a situation not of her choosing.
As he opened the door, Darcy happened to catch the eye of the attending footman. Embarrassment flooded both men at the spectacular showing Miss Bingley had provided. Darcy knew not what would transpire downstairs once the footman had repeated the account of the afternoon’s activities. Surely, it would not be to Miss Bingley’s advantage. Darcy doubted that she was well-liked by the servants of Netherfield Park. When the footman gave him a quick wink, causing the heat to flare under Darcy’s collar, Darcy shrugged his shoulder in a what-is-a-man-to-do fashion. He walked back into the library, the door now wide open.
He was able to maintain his composure as he sat back in his chair. Staring at the fire in front of him, he sought to put his thoughts in order. He knew that to gaze at Elizabeth would be to invite distraction.
He had never used brute force on a female. Ever! That he had done so, even under such provocation, was abhorrent to him. He worried that, once Elizabeth’s mirth had passed, she would worry about his character. He was not a violent man.
Certainly, in his youth, it was common for his Fitzwilliam cousins to join with him and George Wickham in rough play that sometimes resulted in bruises, scrapes, and cuts. As they grew into their teenage years, they practiced boxing and wrestling skills as often as they practiced fencing and marksmanship. It was Richard Fitzwilliam that had taught him the particular hold he had used on Caroline. Darcy had always believed Richard had learned it at the hands of his older brother.
Darcy closed his eyes, suddenly horrified. It had only been the prior month that he had bent Richard’s arm behind his back to prevent him from absconding with a cherished bottle of French brandy. Darcy had stockpiled a few bottles before the embargo and he only had two left. The cousins had been at Darcy House in London and Richard had been caught red-handed. Richard was tall and well-muscled. He most likely weighed close to 14 stone. Caroline Bingley was about half of his size and weight. If that hold was enough to stop Richard from pilfering, Darcy knew beyond doubt that he had hurt Caroline; his shame knew no bounds.
“Mr. Darcy, I cannot guess what is going on in your mind, but I do believe that you are chastising yourself for your actions. Am I correct?” The expressions that were crossing his face were almost painful to watch.
Without looking at Elizabeth, Darcy nodded his head slowly.
“Then you need to stop right now!”
He could not recall a time when a woman had spoken to him in such a manner and was surprised that his immediate response was petulance. How very mature of me!
It bothered Elizabeth to see such a man torturing himself because of actions that were just. And it bothered her that it was Mr. Darcy who was stirring up these emotions. Do I truly care so much that he is upset?
“Elizabeth, you need to understand the kind of man that I am, the kind of man that I have long desired to be.” In his distress, he failed to realize that he had used her Christian name. It was one more fault that he, most likely, would later add to his sins upon reflection of this time spent in the library. Darcy had never tried to put these emotions into words and was having difficulty sorting them out. Gratefully, Elizabeth allowed him that time.
“My father was an excellent man. His sterling reputation of being a faithful husband, a loyal friend, an efficient master, and a caring father gave me the standard that I wanted to grow up to be.”
He was staring at the fire — a look that Elizabeth now knew was one of concentration rather than reproach. She no longer felt disturbed at seeing his eyes so engaged. She caught him running both hands through his hair and realized he often did that when he was unsettled. She was coming to know the man.
“It was not that I merely wanted to be like my father, Miss Elizabeth, I wanted to be that kind of man because I knew that it was the best way to be. I had been raised with fine principles, principles that would never allow for deliberately causing pain and suffering.” Darcy paused, as if having particular difficulty choosing his next words. “I have never admired Miss Bingley in the way that she desires me to. It is a matter of fact that I have viewed her attempts to attract my attention with disdain. I now wonder if my strong reaction just now was in response to that … that disgust that churned inside me at her proposition or if it was because I did not want her to intrude on our time together.”
Elizabeth could not take her eyes from him. This troubled man was a good man, something she had failed to recognize about him before. Though her inclination was to try to tease him out of this dark mood, she realized the inappropriateness of following that path. She determined to respond with all serious.
“Mr.
Darcy, I must ask you to look at matters from my perspective.” She noted his eyes flicker from the fire to her and back. He was listening. “Would you agree that Miss Bingley feels a strong degree of animosity towards me?”
“I would.”
“And, would you also agree that she would have been extremely agitated had she found out that I was an unwelcome eavesdropper on her offer to you?”
“I would.”
“And, Sir, would you agree that her agitation would have been heightened even more had she been aware that we were alone in conversation in her library?”
“I believe so, Miss Elizabeth.”
“Then, what do you think her conduct would be towards me, and possibly my tender-hearted sister, if she somehow became aware of that fact while we are still here at Netherfield Park?”
Darcy thought about that. The series of questions that Elizabeth systematically expounded provided clarity. He knew then what she was about.
“Miss Elizabeth, before I provide you an answer to your final question, I would appreciate hearing your impression of these events.”
At this point, Darcy felt a glimmer of hope in his breast that had grown slightly since just before Caroline had entered the room. He realized that the pain in his heart had been the certainty that the flame had been snuffed out. Darcy finally looked at Elizabeth and was mesmerized as she chewed on her bottom lip in thought. Longing to soothe that lip with his own almost overpowered him. He was distracted when she started to speak, so intense was his gaze on her mouth.
