What Would Mr. Darcy Do? (pemberley variations)

by Abigail Reynolds

  “I have had the best time! You know Mary and Kitty, don’t you? We have had such fun. Mary likes to practice a great deal as well, and we have been helping each other with our music, haven’t we, Mary? We’ve prepared a new duet that I think you will like.”

  “I am very glad to hear it. Georgiana, would you care to greet your new sister?”

  Georgiana’s eyes grew wide. “Lizzy!” she squealed, throwing her arms around her. “At last! Oh, I’m so happy for you both! I’ll be so glad to have you as a sister. It will feel like getting a whole family of sisters,” she said, glancing at the others.

  She continued to chatter on to Darcy about everything she had done during her visit, with assists from Mary and Kitty. Darcy gave Elizabeth an inquisitive but not displeased look as he took in his sister’s altered behavior.

  * * *

  As dusk was approaching, Darcy, whose good temper was starting to fray from the social demands of the Bennet family, took the opportunity to ask Elizabeth to walk out with him, which she gratefully accepted. They were mostly silent as they walked; after all the emotions of the day, Elizabeth felt more agitated and confused than happy, and Darcy found he had much to think about. At the top of a rise which would afford a view of the upcoming sunset Elizabeth led them to a small arbor with a rude bench carved from a fallen log. She settled herself and invited him to do the same.

  “Georgiana seemed in a remarkable mood this afternoon,” Darcy said thoughtfully.

  “I had been under the impression she tended to be quiet and shy, but we have seen very little of that here, to say the least. Of course, I have not spent as much time with her as I expected, since she and my sisters have been so taken with each other—to the benefit of all three, I might add—but she has been quite talkative and playful since she settled in.”

  “That is indeed remarkable. Although she was quite animated as a child, after our father died she seemed to become more serious, and since the events of last summer, has been somewhat withdrawn as well. Perhaps she needed to escape from all the reminders of the past.”

  She considered this. “I think the company of girls her own age is helpful as well. Perhaps she tried too hard to be an adult before she is ready. She also spoke to me about Wickham at one point; I was impressed with her insights into the situation.”

  “I confess I am relieved to hear she talked to you about it; I have worried she keeps too much of her feelings to herself.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “She worries about you, as well. I think she may be feeling relieved she can turn over the task of worrying about you to me.”

  “Shall you worry about me, then?” he teased.

  “I am certain the occasion will arise at some point.”

  He shifted closer to her and gathered her to him so her back rested against his chest. She leaned her head back against him, enjoying the comfort of his closeness.

  “Have you thought any further about the question of our wedding?” he asked, playing with her fingers.

  Elizabeth sighed. “A little; it is confusing, though. There is much to be said for next week, yet at the same time I know how much needs to be done before I could leave Longbourn… it is an intimidating concept. There are many farewell calls I will need to make, as well as all the preparations for moving.”

  “Would you prefer to wait, then?”

  Elizabeth hesitantly asked, “Would you mind terribly if I did want to wait until after Jane’s wedding?”

  He gently kissed her hair. “My love, as long as you marry me, all else is unimportant.”

  “Thank you for understanding. So, Bingley could be willing to be imposed upon to delay their trip a week—perhaps we could accept that offer and marry just before they leave. It would need to be a small, simple service, but I am not sure I would not prefer that in any case.”

  “I would much prefer it that way, if I have a say in the matter. I have spent enough time dreading just standing up with Bingley.”

  She leaned her head back to look up at him in puzzlement. “Why would you dread that?”

  “I always dread being in large gatherings of people—had you not noticed?”

  Elizabeth shook her head as she took his words in.

  “I always thought it must be embarrassingly obvious how I feel—I speak to no one, I attempt to stay as far away as I decently can, I leave as soon as I can—I would rather be any place in the world, as long as there are fewer people there. I confess I am surprised you did not know.”

  Suddenly a good number of things began to make sense for Elizabeth. “I had noticed you kept somewhat apart, but I am afraid I quite misinterpreted it.”

  “Pray, how did you interpret it, then?” he asked with some amusement.

  Elizabeth found she would really much rather not tell him that she had thought him exceedingly proud and disagreeable. “That is of no matter, now that I understand better.”

  “No, now I am curious as to what you were thinking, my sweet Elizabeth.”

  Elizabeth closed her eyes and gave a sigh. “I fear it does not reflect well on me, although I suppose it should be no surprise that I misconstrued yet one thing more about you. Very well, I thought you felt we were all beneath your notice.”

  Now it was Darcy’s turn to look surprised. He said slowly, “I suppose it is little wonder, then, that you thought me so arrogant.”

  Hearing a degree of pain in his voice, she hastened to add, “But that was only when I first knew you. Your behavior at Pemberley showed me you were nothing of the sort, and I never saw any evidence of it in Kent, either, now that I think on it.”

  “You never saw me in a large gathering at Rosings or Pemberley. You may feel differently when you have.” His voice was guarded.

  She turned to face him. “I shall feel no differently at all,” she said, and to punctuate her statement she raised her head and brushed her lips lightly against his.

  As she withdrew, he immediately placed his hand behind her neck and drew her back to him for a much deeper, more lingering kiss. As they broke off, he said somewhat ruefully, “This may be a very long two weeks.”

  Elizabeth found herself with an unwontedly serious reaction to his comment. In two weeks he will be my husband, she thought. In two weeks, we will be alone together and he will not stop with kisses. She felt a peculiar lurch deep inside her at the thought of the unknown. Before Darcy could note her change in mood, she said lightly, “Patience is a virtue, Mr. Darcy.”

  “One I am afraid I do not possess when it comes to you, my dearest,” he said. “But you still seem averse to calling me by my name, even when we are alone.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “And do you not know why, Mr. Darcy?”

  “Please enlighten me.”

  She looked up at him through her lashes. “As you wish, Fitzwilliam.”

  A familiar light ignited in his eyes as he reached out to trace his finger across her lips and the line of her jaw. He smiled slightly as he shifted to allow her to lie in his arms. Elizabeth’s breath caught as he slowly bent his head to capture her mouth. His tantalizing kisses distracted her from her purpose, and she gave in to the temptation to taste the pleasure he offered.

  After a moment, though, she laid her fingers over his lips, and smiled mischievously up at him. “Do you still wish to know why I do not use your name? I have noted it seems to have a most peculiar effect on you, much as it just did. But I promise you, when we are safely married, I shall call you by it frequently.”

  He thoughtfully nibbled her fingertips, causing Elizabeth to feel a distinct loss of interest in discussing the matter any further. He noted to himself that it was true that, during the many times he had imagined her calling him by name, it was often in one very particular setting, with a particular response on his part. A slow smile came over his face. “You are a very wicked woman, Miss Bennet,” he murmured. He began placing excruciatingly light and slow kisses on the soft, uncovered skin of her shoulder, while whispering, “Very, very wicked.” By the time he had found h
is way to the sensitive hollow at the base of her neck, Elizabeth had given up any pretense of resistance, and allowed herself to tangle her fingers in his hair in encouragement. He continued to enjoy tantalizing her until her rapid breathing and arched body became too much for him, and their mouths met hungrily.

  He lifted his face to allow her to meet his passion-darkened eyes. “Say my name, Elizabeth,” he commanded softly. Shaking her head playfully, she attempted to pull his head back to hers. “Oh, no, Miss Bennet,” he murmured. “No more kisses for you until you say it.”

  She raised her eyebrow. “I am very wicked,” she said with a playful smile, and began reciting his name as rapidly as she could, with an inflection of mirth. With a mock glare, he nipped lightly at her neck, causing a squeal and fit of laughter. They smiled contentedly into one another’s eyes, enjoying the game, until without warning the lighthearted moment shifted into a more serious one of deep attraction and desire.

  Darcy slid one hand to her head, allowing his fingers to caress the silky curls he had longed to touch for so long. His thumb traced circles on her temple, and his breathing became shallow as he watched her eyes darken and her lips part. “Elizabeth,” he whispered, making the syllables of her name into a caress.

  “Fitzwilliam,” she responded, her voice warm with passion. “Oh, Fitzwilliam.”

  It was far too close to his fantasies. He tried to assert control over his response, only to realize he had left it too long. He tasted her mouth, first lightly and then with burgeoning passion that stole away his senses. He knew that he must withdraw, but his lips would not cooperate and began to explore downward along her neck, then lower to the tender skin exposed by the neckline of her dress where he was not supposed to even allow his eyes to rest. He was even further inflamed by her gasps as this new sensation built in her to an excruciating tension.

  Afterward Elizabeth would wonder what part of her had finally responded to her spiraling desire with a sense of panic that made her push him away. For a moment, Darcy looked at her uncomprehendingly as she withdrew from him, then he rose and took several rapid strides away from her. Facing away from her, he gripped one hand against a tree and stood in tense silence, staring unseeingly across the countryside.

  Elizabeth also looked away, sobered by what had happened, and even more so by the realization of how far she had allowed her behavior to stray. How had it come to pass that she was allowing, nay, participating in the liberties he had taken? What was it about Darcy that tempted her to flout every rule she had ever known? She looked up to see him framed against the sunset, his unmoving form still in the attitude of painful tension. It hurt her to see him so, far more than she could explain to herself, and she realized the true question she should ask herself was how she came to love him so much that nothing else mattered.

  “Mr. Darcy?” she said gently. Without turning, he held his hand up in a clear request that she desist. She bit her lip, not knowing how best to address his current distress, her own concerns forgotten in her apprehension for his. She waited briefly, then spoke his name again.

  “Miss Bennet, please be so kind as to allow me to finish castigating myself before you take your turn; you may rest assured I am doing a very thorough job of it.”

  Hearing the bitterness of his words, she recognized what she was witnessing was similar to Georgiana’s description of another time when he failed to meet his own strict standards. She saw this was where she would need to begin thinking like a wife, for she would certainly need the capability to handle these situations in the future. Georgiana had indicated that offering sympathy was not productive, so a different approach was required. A thought occurred to her of how to draw him out of himself. “Perhaps what I am lacking, sir, is not an opportunity to castigate, but to receive comfort,” she said.

  He stiffened visibly, and for a moment Elizabeth thought her words had only served to make him blame himself yet further; then he approached her and, kneeling in front of her, took her hands in his. “Forgive me, my dearest; I was selfishly thinking only of myself, and not of you. Thank you for drawing my attention to the obvious.”

  She gave a slight smile. “Thank you for listening.”

  “Elizabeth, I shall always come when you ask, and no doubt more often than you would wish! Please do not distress yourself over what happened; it should not have happened, but given that it did, we can only remember that in two weeks we shall be man and wife, and none of this will matter.”

  She squeezed his hands. “It has been a rather emotional day, has it not?”

  “Indeed,” he agreed, “and I am sure that we are both somewhat overwrought at this point. I will not allow it to happen again.”

  “For two weeks.”

  “Yes,” he said with a smile, “For two weeks. Then you must take your chances. But I note that the light is fading fast, and we should be returning to the house.”

  As he stood and moved to offer her his arm, she gave in to impulse and embraced him. In the circle of his arms, she thought to herself that perhaps her instincts would not serve her so ill with him after all.

  Chapter 9

  The next day proved to be just as busy as Elizabeth had anticipated, between a visit to the mantua-maker’s shop in Meryton to select fabric and a model for her wedding gown, the arrival of the Gardiners and Jane, and the excitement of sharing her news. Darcy joined them for much of the day, and though Elizabeth felt the lack of time alone with him, she had the satisfaction of seeing her father taking pains to get acquainted with him. She was also pleased to notice Darcy in close conference with her uncle at one point. It was of great satisfaction to her to see their mutual respect.

  That evening, after she retired, Elizabeth was not surprised to hear a knock on the door, as she had expected Jane would want to hear more about the recent events in private conversation. Her surmise was incorrect, however, in that her visitor was in fact Mrs. Gardiner.

  “Lizzy, I wanted to tell you how very happy I am that you and Mr. Darcy have reached an understanding,” her aunt said warmly, taking her by the hands.

  “Thank you. I had noticed you seemed to look with some favor on the idea,” she replied. “But I must thank you for the little pushes you gave us in the right direction.”

  “My dear, that was my pleasure entirely. But as delightful as that subject is, I was hoping to have conference with you on a different matter.”

  Elizabeth, with some curiosity, invited her aunt to sit.

  “The subject is somewhat delicate, and in many ways I feel Mr. Darcy should be telling you this himself, but he requested, I believe out of natural modesty, of your uncle that we be the ones to speak with you of this. He did not wish you to know of it earlier, but feels it is inappropriate to keep it a secret from you any longer, especially as some of the parties to the secret are not particularly trustworthy.”

  By this juncture, Elizabeth was burning with inquisitiveness and more than a little anxiety, wondering what could be so terrible that Darcy would be unwilling to tell her. “You are keeping me in suspense, aunt. What is this dread secret?”

  Her aunt, however, seemed unable to be direct about the subject. “I told you, I believe, that Mr. Darcy called on us at Gracechurch Street several times after our return from Derbyshire, did I not? I did not, however, disclose the true purpose of his visits, which your uncle had, without my knowledge, been expecting from discussion with Mr. Darcy on our last day in Lambton. The first time he called, he was shut up with your uncle for several hours, and it was not until afterward that I learned that he had come to tell your uncle that he had found out where your sister Lydia and Mr. Wickham were, and that he had seen and talked with them both.”

  “He had done what?” Elizabeth asked, in utter astonishment.

  “His goal was to secure and expedite their marriage. As you may have guessed, it was never Wickham’s design to marry your sister, but he was in some rather serious financial straits, and was not proof against the temptation of immediate relief. Mr.
Darcy met with him several times, as Wickham of course wanted more than he could get, but at length was reduced to be reasonable. After they had reached a settlement, Mr. Darcy acquainted your uncle with the situation, and then they spent some time battling out the question of who was to settle the matter. At last your uncle was forced to yield to Mr. Darcy’s demand that nothing was to be done that he did not do himself, and agreed to his one request, which was that no one in your family be informed in any way of his part in this. This went sorely against the grain for both of us, but given how much we owed him, we did not deem it reasonable to refuse, though I will say it put me in quite a difficult position a few weeks later when you told me that Mr. Darcy would never be able to tolerate being in the same room as Wickham! And that, my dear, is the entire story.”

  Elizabeth’s astonishment at this recounting was great, and left her briefly speechless. Finally she asked, “But why did he not want me to know?”

  “My dear, as I understand it, he was in hopes of winning your affections, and was concerned that if you knew of his role in this, you might accept him out of a sense of obligation, which was not his desire. I gather this is no longer a concern.”

  Elizabeth hardly knew what to think. That Darcy would have taken on himself all the trouble and mortification attendant on finding Wickham and Lydia, that he would agree to meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe, the man whom he always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to him to pronounce—despite her high opinion of him, this went far beyond what she could have expected.

  She had many more questions for her aunt, and the next hour was spent in conversation.

  * * *

  The following day Elizabeth, knowing her chances of finding time alone with Darcy were slim, made a point of capturing him as soon as he arrived at Longbourn with Bingley, who was newly arrived at Netherfield. Drawing him off into the dining room, she took some time expressing her appreciation for all that he had done for Lydia and her pride in his actions. Darcy, who was less than comfortable with discussing the matter, made a concerted effort to change the subject, and eventually managed to work Elizabeth around to discussing wedding plans.