Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation

by Massey, Beth

  “I never saw such a woman, and I doubt any with that combination of characteristics actually exist, especially when you add lack of deception and disguise. I rather think being adept at those two skills is at the top of most women’s list of accomplishments. I am sure I will never know one that meets Mr Darcy’s requirements, but then I never visit the markets to acquire a wife or to be acquired. I may be hypocritical about some things, but never about that,” Elizabeth replied.

  Mrs Hurst and Miss Bingley were dumbfounded at where the conversation had gone, and both cried out against the injustice of Elizabeth’s implied doubt. They were protesting that they knew many women who answered Mr Darcy’s description, when Mr Hurst called them to order and insisted they play cards. As all conversation was over, Elizabeth left the room to check on her sister.

  Mr Darcy and Miss Elizabeth both had a great deal of difficulty sleeping that night. Elizabeth had one of her nightmares. This night, she had the variation about the rich gentlemen at their club in London, laughing about the country girl who helped with her buttons. She awoke with a start, soaked in perspiration. There was no one to comfort her, as Jane was sleeping soundly in the room next door. Lizzy was afraid to fall asleep again, so she arose and sat in a chair by the dying fire. After a while, she decided to go down to the library and see if she could find something to read. It was well past midnight, and she assumed there would be no one about. She put on her robe and slippers, and made her way down the stairs.

  Mr Darcy had made his way to the library a short while before. He had been tossing and turning for hours. His mind would not stop thinking about her, and he was anxious to find a way to have a private conversation with her. While going past her door, he heard her talking. She was saying, ‘Please, you do not understand. It did not happen the way you say. Please, stop laughing.’ The pleading pathos in her voice caused him to be concerned. He wondered who was in her room. It seemed an odd conversation to be having with her sister in the wee hours of the morning. He knew he could not intervene, so he continued on downstairs to Bingley’s paltry library. Hopefully there was something there to divert him.

  He had stoked the fire, lit all the candles and closed the door. He found the tattered copy of Doctor Faustus she had been reading earlier in the day. Anne had told him, although she did not understand the reference, that Miss Elizabeth felt she was like Faust, and had sold her soul to the devil. He tried to concentrate, but his thoughts kept coming back to her. Just when he was about to give up reading and return to his bedchamber, the door opened and she was there in the same room with him. At first he wondered if he had dozed off and she was a dream, but her startled look told him she was real. She turned to leave, and he leapt out of his chair and took her arm and pulled her back in the room. The fear on her face made him release her immediately, but not before he felt a surge of annoyance course through his body.

  “Miss Elizabeth, why are you so afraid of me? I do not understand why you enjoy teasing me, provoking me and sometimes even flirting—but are horrified by my touch.”

  “It is not just yours. I do not like having physical contact with any man.”

  Darcy was petulant and did not believe her answer. He said, “You did not seem to mind Dr Wilder touching you, so I have to assume it is only me that you fear.”

  “That is untrue. I assure you, I would have the same reaction to Mr Bingley, and I have yet to allow Mr Collins or Colonel Forster to touch me. I feel affection for both of them, but it does not extend to physical contact.”

  “But why? What caused you to have this fear? You did not seem to be so fearful when we first met, and you let me lift you off the floor the day Bethany was born.”

  His last statement caused Elizabeth to laugh, despite the anguish she was feeling at his probing into her most private feelings… those feelings she had never shared with anyone.

  “Mr Darcy, if I had not agreed to have you help me that day, I would have been forced to have her in that very spot. I was entirely too large to get myself up, and besides, the only thing I cared about at that moment was getting Bethany out of me so that my back would stop aching.”

  Elizabeth looked him in the eyes. She saw jealousy, anger, concern and perhaps even love. She decided to try to explain. “Mr Darcy, if I tell you, will you promise not to press me for more of an explanation than I am able to give you. My reason is something that is very difficult for me to relate.” She waited for him to nod his agreement.

  Lizzy thought about what she could say, and then closed her eyes as she said her piece. She did not want to see his face or his reaction. “Your grabbing my arm was very reminiscent of the incident with your cousin. My ordeal was very unpleasant. I believe it was painful, but I remember so little. The result is that it left me filled with fear. I am afraid if I let a man touch me, it will happen again.”

  “But, I do not… “He stopped when he saw her hand come up to indicate she would not listen.

  “Mr Darcy, you promised.”

  “I am sorry, Miss Elizabeth. You are correct, but I have been hoping to convince you to come to the ball and dance with me. Your fear of being touched makes me quite hopeless that you will agree to my wish.”

  Elizabeth stared at him, dumbfounded. He seemed to her a little boy who had been denied a sweet. What could she say? She decided to lie to him for the time being. “Do not despair. I will consider your request.”

  His smile lit up the room. She could not believe how childish he was, but yet so handsome. Had he comprehended what she had said at all? Unfortunately, she had not observed his face, so she did not know how he had reacted to her words. She worried about how he would take her refusal. His request was impossible. Even if she agreed to dance with him, she could not abide the thought of other men touching her, and that would be required.

  As though he could read her mind, he said, “I have persuaded Bingley to have the last dance at the ball be a waltz. You know with a waltz, you only have to touch your partner. Have you ever waltzed?”

  She shook her head no, and continued to stare at him with saucer eyes.

  “I learned it a few years ago when my cousin Richard and I went to the continent. It is very romantic, and considered both risqué and revolutionary. You and your sister are returning to Longbourn tomorrow. Let us walk out in the morning, and we can talk some more.”

  Elizabeth nodded her head in agreement. She decided they had risked being found alone far too long. She was not concerned about propriety, but she was concerned about gossip. She smiled at him and said, “Good night, Mr Darcy… till it be morrow.”

  As he climbed the stairs, a few minutes behind her, he finished the quot… ‘Parting is such sweet sorrow.’

  33 THE TALK OF THE TOWN

  After breakfast, a curious Mary Bennet retired with her father to his study. Once the door was closed, she asked if he expected a reply to the letter they had sent the day before to Mr Gardiner. They had stretched the truth by indicating more forcefully than was accurate that Mr Darcy seemed to know Elizabeth from her time in Derbyshire.

  “I do not know what to think. I am certain he would not have allowed anything untoward to happen to our Lizzy… yet Mr Darcy definitely is concealing something. Unfortunately, I think your uncle will reply to our letter in his usual noncommittal way, and we will know nothing more than we did after our interview with Mr Darcy. Perhaps, if we go to London to buy clothes for your wedding, we can arrange a private conference with my brother and use the same tactics on him as we did on Mr Darcy… Ask him unexpected questions that will lower his defences and watch his reaction.”

  “Papa, since you do not mind the appellation, I can only say that is a diabolically clever plan. Although, do you not fear Uncle will think it suspicious that you came along on a shopping trip?”

  Mary was successful in making her father laugh. Her smug satisfaction at accomplishing such a feat was soon replaced by a thoughtful look. “I am hoping once I am established at Hunsford to find out information about Mr D
arcy and his late wife that could shed some light on Elizabeth’s mystery. I plan to listen very carefully, since William’s patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is both Mr Darcy’s aunt and his mother-in-law. Lizzy seems to know nothing about the connection. I have watched her when Lady Catherine’s name is mentioned. She has never reacted to it the way she did to Mr Darcy’s after the assembly. Make certain you do not mention the relationship to her. Mr Collins has been warned, and Mr Darcy seemed to want to keep the knowledge secret the night of the assembly.”

  “Mary. I promise I will guard that bit of information with my life. You need to make certain your mother does not learn. That is definitely a connection she would enjoy bragging about to all of Meryton… even though presently she is currently enjoying denouncing Mr Darcy’s arrogance to the populace.” Mr Bennet pondered for a few minutes while he examined their quest before he spoke again. “I want to get to the bottom of this mystery, but every day I become more and more concerned we will uncover something that should remain hidden. Making her unhappier than she is now is the last thing I want to have happen.”

  “Papa what do you make of Mr Darcy being unnerved by Lizzy’s reaction to Rousseau’s Confessions?”

  “That was the most troubling revelation of our discussion with him. I hope his reaction was totally unrelated to Lizzy, but somehow, I fear it was not. His daughter sounded so much like Elizabeth at five. I would defend her honour with a duel, if I found he had seduced her. What kind of woman was Mrs Darcy to allow him to bring his natural child into their home?” Mr Bennet wrinkled his nose with distaste as he pondered the situation. “The Duke of Devonshire did just that. Despite those of the highest circles doing such things, it does not explain why your uncle would not tell me of a compromising situation with that kind of result.”

  Mary’s face took on a frightened look. “She was avoiding him, and then Jane beame ill. They have been in the same house with each other for days. Papa, he had better not hurt her.” Her next musing was said with a half-hearted chuckle. “No need for a duel. I would kill him if he harmed her. I have better eyesight than you and could do more damage—with poison maybe. Do you think Mr Collins would lose his living if I was hanged for killing his patroness’s son-in-law?”

  Even though her statement was said in humour, Mr Bennet could not laugh.

  Mr Darcy waited for Miss Elizabeth in the breakfast room. He hoped she would not change her mind about going out with him. He needed to speak with her, but there was never any privacy with Miss Bingley around. Luckily, Charles’ sisters were not early risers like he and Miss Elizabeth, so he hoped they could walk without being joined by anyone else.

  He had spent some time before he fell asleep thinking about what she told him of her encounter with Edmund. He could not say he understood her fear, but he was convinced she truly felt it. She was left with fear while Georgiana was left with a lack of confidence. Both suffered from sadness. He did not understand his sister’s despair any more than he understood Miss Elizabeth’s fear. To him the natural emotion for Georgiana would have been anger. Wickham did not care about her… he only wanted her money. Miss Elizabeth seemed both angry and fearful. Anne’s explanation came to him. “Edmund told Miss Elizabeth they were of different spheres, and he could not marry her.” He had always assumed that was the source of her anger, but it did not explain why she had been so adamant marriage was not a solution for her being with child. He did not understand either of these women. Why could not women be more like men?

  Anne had told him that their first time together was “very unpleasant” and she had cried out in pain. Why would this reaction, which he had heard was quite common to women, cause Miss Elizabeth to be afraid? Had she not known what to expect? Of course she had not—she had only been fifteen and had never been away from home. It must have been as in the song she sang… ‘he wittily, prettily talked her down.’ Or perhaps, ‘he had teased her and pleased her.’ Beyond that, she probably knew nothing… young ladies were usually told what to expect as they were preparing to marry. Damn his cousin! She had been too young to understand what he was going to do and what she was allowing to happen. She and Georgiana shared that in common. Their age had sheltered them from so many harsh realities, and they became easy prey for the unscrupulous. Still, he did not understand why she was afraid that if a man touched her ‘the same thing would happen.’

  Just as he was turning over her revelation for the tenth time, she walked into the breakfast room. She favoured him with a weak smile. Pouring tea and choosing a muffin occupied her for a few minutes. Her attention was only on her plate and cup as she sat and began eating and drinking. He noticed the trembling of her hand as she sipped her tea. When finished, she finally lifted her eyes to his. This time he saw apprehension and uncertainty.

  In response to his query as to whether she was ready for their walk, she put on her pelisse, bonnet, scarf and gloves without a word. In silence, he put on his greatcoat, beaver hat and gloves. As they set out, he let Miss Elizabeth lead the way, for she knew the estate better than he. No arm was offered, and they both walked with their hands clasped behind their backs.

  When they were a respectable distance from the house, he asked her the question that had been bothering him since his meeting with Mr Bennet, “Miss Elizabeth, your father told me you found it unconscionable that Rousseau had put his five illegitimate children in orphanages. Do you equate what you did with his actions? I promise you, her life is nothing like being in an orphanage.”

  Elizabeth looked up at Mr Darcy and sighed. “I know, Mr Darcy. I am certain hers is a wonderful life, but I have always felt like Faust. I did not go to your townhouse to sell my baby; I was childishly angry and wanted reparations. My uncle and I have discussed that day, and both of us now agree it was unwise to have demanded the money. He had enough to take care of another child and to provide for his sister—my mother—when my father dies. The only thing I really wanted was revenge, but Mrs Darcy thwarted my quest.” Elizabeth stopped briefly and again engaged his eyes. “She was both Portia to my Shylock and Mephistopheles to my Faust. She found a way to deny me my pound of flesh, while she made me an offer I could not refuse… twenty-three thousand pounds. Only in the broadest interpretation am I like Rousseau, but I still fear for my soul.”

  They walked in silence for quite a while. His most pressing need was to ask about the ball, but he was afraid of her answer.

  “Mr Darcy I think it is time we turned around. My father is sending the carriage for us shortly before noon. I need to make sure everything is packed.”

  “Miss Elizabeth, have you thought any more about coming to the ball? I hope I have proven to you that it is safe to be around me. We have spent time together at Oakham Mount at dawn, in the library alone past midnight and today on this long walk. Nothing improper has happened. I would never hurt you.”

  She smiled at him and said, “Describe what waltzing is like. You are right that one of my main concerns with accepting your offer is the fact I would have to touch several men in the course of a set. Exactly how is this risqué and revolutionary dance performed?”

  “May I show you?”

  She searched his eyes and answered warily, “I suppose. You will promise me if I become uncomfortable, that you will desist immediately?”

  He nodded yes. “I need you to remove your bonnet.” He noticed her hands shook as she untied the ribbons and hung the bonnet from a limb. Her entire body continued to tremble, so he stepped close and whispered, “I put my hand on your waist… like this. You put your hand on my arm… here. If you were taller, you would put your hand on my shoulder, but that is too much of a stretch for you to be comfortable. Our other hands touch lightly with your fingers resting on my palm, just so. Please remember, that just as today, we will be wearing gloves. Once in this position, we just whirl around in time to the music. My hand on your waist will be your guide. I will look down and smile at you, breathe in your lovely lavender scent and as we whirl, we will become as one to
the world.”

  The lush sound of his voice as he whispered his instructions had ended her trembling. She kept her eyes fixed on his as they twirled for a few moments. He hummed a tune she had never heard before. For the first time in their acquaintance, she noticed how delightful he smelled. An intense feeling of longing like those emotions she had recently been battling influenced her decision.

  When they stopped, she smiled and said, “That was lovely. I agree to waltz with you; but Mr Darcy, you must be prepared for gossip. I am used to it, but you should not be alarmed at what you might hear. Most of the talk will just be country chatter and with very little basis in truth, but even so, it can sometimes be painful and do great damage. You and I are particularly vulnerable.

  Mr Bingley and Miss Bennet made the most of her last morning at Netherfield. The day before, the two of them had set the date of the ball for November 26. He secured the first set for his ball, as well as the one before dinner. Jane asked his permission to invite her friend Becky Trent, Sir Walter’s daughter, to come for the ball. He agreed and told her of his secret plans for a waltz to be the last dance.

  “Miss Bennet, would you think it too forward, if I asked you for that dance as well? It is the last dance, and as you now know, I am forced to leave for London on business the next day. It would mean so much to me if dancing a waltz with you was my last memory of my time at Netherfield. It would sustain me while I am away from Hertfordshire.”

  Only Bingley saw the joy that lit up her face at his suggestion. Only Bingley heard her breathless, “Oh, I would be honoured to waltz with you, but I do not know how.”

  “As long as you trust me as your partner and follow my lead, you will conduct yourself admirably. You do know it is quite controversial? I must put my hand on your waist.”