Returning to Mr. Darcy

by Sheena Austin

  In unison, they wished her a happy birthday and clinked their glasses in honor of her. The aroma of food wafted in the air. Just in time; she was famished. She just wanted an excuse to stuff her face and to avoid eye contact and conversation.

  The first course was a delicious roasted butternut squash soup along with sautéed asparagus and pigeons in white sauce. She was unsure about the pigeons and politely declined. However, she did not decline a glass of wine. She needed to get drunk to make it through this train wreck.

  The duke, in between bites, attempted to make conversation, and Elizabeth’s responses were curt. She did not want to encourage the man. Handsome as he was, she knew he was no good. He was like a dog ready to hump her leg, and she would have to try harder to shake him off. Maybe with a baseball bat. She giggled at this a little too loudly.

  “What is so amusing, my Aphrodite? Am I finally breaking down your walls, and you find me devastatingly amusing?” His eyes twinkled with hope and lust.

  “No, Duke, I was just thinking that you remind me of a greedy dog with a bone, and you want to hump my leg,” Elizabeth said loud enough that it echoed.

  Everyone gasped; she could have heard a pin drop. She tried to ignore them, and greedily drank the rest of her wine and requested more. Her inhibitions were thrown out the window, and her lips were loose.

  Mrs. Bennet was the first to comment. “Elizabeth, how dare you disgrace our family? Do not speak to His Grace like that. You first drag us in the mud with Darcy abandoning you; now, you do this? You are such an insufferable child.”

  Elizabeth stared her down. “My dear woman, if speaking my mind makes me insufferable, then I am. However, you do not have the right to speak to me as to an insolent child. I am a grown woman.”

  Mrs. Bennet’s face turned red, and Elizabeth could have sworn her eyes were bulging. “How dare you speak to me like that, Eliza? Mr. Bennet, you need to keep your daughter in line. No mother should take such abuse, and my husband should not stand there while she dishonors me.”

  With this, Elizabeth stood up, Mr. Bennet joined her, and he escorted her out of the room. “Father, please do not fret over me, I shall be fine. I need some fresh air,” she lied. She wanted to find Lydia and wanted to run away.

  He did not want to leave her alone; she saw the concern in his eyes and hugged him. “Again, please don’t fret, I will only be over there on the terrace.” He smiled and reluctantly let her go.

  Alone, she tried to guess where the library was. How the hell did I get myself into this mess? I wish Darcy was here. Her world had felt empty since her aunt passed away, and Darcy filled the void. Her world had never revolved around a man before, and it was frightening and exhilarating.

  “Darling, why are you alone out here?” She spun around to see Worthington; he had startled her. She did not know she had company. She grimaced, and he placed his hand over his heart as if he was wounded. “My dear, please pretend you are happy to see me. I apologize; I have come on too strong.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Sir, if you had been more of a gentleman and not a dog in heat, I might be thrilled to have your company and find your company pleasurable. Alas, neither feeling do I harbor at this moment.”

  He sauntered closer. His eyes smoldered, and he took her hand and led her to the terrace. “My dear, please let us start all over again. I promise to be a gentleman.” He bent down and kissed her hand; his lips lingered far too long.

  ****

  Darcy approached Netherfield. He was fashionably late, but he did despise gatherings. He put on his best face and went inside. Wickham greeted him, and he was so happy to see Darcy.

  “Hello, old chap, it was nice to see you show up at your wife’s party. We were afraid you were not going to show.” Darcy wanted to punch his smug face but decided not to lower himself.

  “Good to see you as well, Wickham. I would not have missed this party for the world. Speaking of my wife, where is she?”

  Wickham sprung like a viper and feigned concern. “She is on the terrace. I am afraid she and her mother got into a fight, and she is frightfully upset.”

  Darcy’s face turned stone cold; that insufferable woman. “If you would please excuse me, I shall go comfort my wife.” Without skipping a beat, Wickham joined him. Darcy was vexed, as he was not up for Wickham’s company. “Wickham, you need not accompany me. I can manage on my own in finding Elizabeth.” Darcy quickened his pace and left Wickham trailing behind.

  As Darcy approached the terrace, he heard Elizabeth’s voice, along with that of a man. As he came closer, he could make out a man holding Elizabeth. He cleared his throat. “Elizabeth,” he said coldly. Charles spun around, unblocking Elizabeth, and she pushed Charles away. She ran to Darcy to embrace him. Darcy stopped her. “Do explain why this man was embracing you.”

  “Darcy, it’s not what you think,” she began.

  His eyes raged with anger, and Wickham finally caught up with him and spoke. “Darcy, it is exactly what you think. She has been fawning over Charles the whole time you were away.”

  Elizabeth went over to Wickham and raised her hand to slap him. Darcy stopped her and held her still. “Woman, know your place!” She was outraged, and her face turned red. “You have spoken Charles’ name in your sleep. I know of your secret rendezvous. After all, I have done, this is how you treat me? I am gone, and you run into your lover’s arms?” He spat in anger, alcohol mixed with rage clouding his judgment. His mind sprang into action, disregarding any logical explanation.

  Charles stepped in, and Darcy punched him. Darcy turned to face Elizabeth. “You are an abomination, and you both disgust me. You are not to see myself nor our daughter ever again.”

  He turned on his heel and stormed out. She ran after him. “Darcy, do not toss me away like a whore. It is not what you think!”

  He spun around. “Again, woman, know your place; do not speak to me.” He walked out the door.

  She ran out after him. It was pouring rain; she could not catch up with him before he reached his coach. She fell onto the ground and cried. Charles came out, and she spat at him. “Why did you not tell him the truth?”

  He helped her up. “Because it brought me pleasure to think you would be mine, and he does not deserve you.”

  She refused his hand, and he laughed. “Your pride has already been hurt; no sense in trying to redeem yourself. We do not want you mucking around in the mud.”

  She was furious, and no words came. She decided to give in and take his hand. He led her back inside, to where her mother and father stood. Her mother’s eyes bulged with rage and embarrassment, and she ran off like a madwoman, searching for a servant. She grabbed the first unsuspecting victim and told them to put the tray down, usher Elizabeth upstairs, strip her down, and dress her in one of Jane’s dressing gowns.

  Jane and Bingley were two steps behind while Elizabeth was being ushered upstairs.

  Once ushered into a room, Elizabeth spun around. “Bingley, go fetch Lydia and make sure she goes unseen from Wickham. Do not let him near her.”

  Bingley nodded. “Do not fret, dear sister. All will be taken care of.”

  Jane gave Elizabeth a quizzical look. “What is this you speak of?” She turned to her husband. “Darling, what is going on?”

  He kissed her hand. “As I said to our dear Lizzie, do not fret yourself.”

  He left without another word, leaving Jane and Elizabeth alone together.

  “Lizzie, tell me now,” Jane said with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed in a thin line.

  Elizabeth feigned a headache and pretended a fainting spell. She collapsed on the floor.

  “Oh, Lizzie, are you all right? I am dreadfully sorry for causing you undue stress.”

  Jane helped her to bed. Elizabeth, wracked with guilt, smiled weakly. “Do not worry. It was just a fainting spell. It has been a long ordeal and I grow tired and weak.”

  Jane tucked Elizabeth in. “Rest, my dear sister. Please forgive me.”

&nbs
p; Elizabeth nodded. “You did no wrong. I shall see you in the morning.”

  “Good night, Lizzie.” Jane blew out the candle on the nightstand and left Elizabeth alone in the dark. Thoughts swirled her mind, and anxiety gripped her heart. A faint whisper echoed in the darkness. “I’m on my way.”

  She shot up in bed. “Aunt Jane, is that you?” She strained her ears for a response, but none came. Exhaustion seeped into her bones. She lay back down and fell asleep with no trouble.

  ****

  Once in the shelter of his coach, Darcy could not calm down. He was furious at how the night had gone. Darcy had been planning to propose to Elizabeth, in hopes of giving her a proposal to create new memories together and to renew their vows. The ring in his pocket grew heavy. He wanted to fling it out the carriage window and into the mud, so he would never see it again and be reminded of his moment of weakness. He did not want a hanging reminder of the pain he felt as he saw Elizabeth in the arms of another man. Darcy was convinced that love was for the weak, and he did not want to be weak.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Several days had passed since Elizabeth’s altercation with Darcy, and she was spiraling into a dark abyss of pain. To make matters worse, she had gotten sick from sitting in the pouring rain in the mud. She was running a fever, and she felt like she was going to die. She wanted to anyways; then again, she did not care, for perhaps she was already dead, in purgatory or Hell. She was delirious with fever and refused to eat anything. When she slept she dreamed of Darcy, and his vile and hateful words echoed in her dreams. She stood motionless, unable to move as she stood before him. She was paralyzed as she tried to run after him. She called out for him, and he burst into flames. When she finally was able to move, she found herself trapped in the fire and in the car. When she would awake, her father was at her side, and her sister Jane, as well as Lydia. Lydia would place cold compresses on her forehead to try to break the fever. However, Elizabeth knew it was pointless because she did not want to live without Darcy.

  When she wasn’t dreaming of Darcy, her Aunt Jane haunted her dreams, speaking riddles. She also dreamed of Wickham and Lydia, and what could have happened to Lydia after the party. Lydia was not safe in her dream and Wickham found her and beat her to a bloody pulp, leaving her to die in the street alone.

  She was a zombie and unresponsive, and it was decided by Mr. Bennet himself that Elizabeth should return to the Bennet household. Wickham had insisted, and if Mr. Bennet denied the request, he would have been exposed for his sordid affair and drained of all his life savings.

  ****

  Lydia was fraught over Elizabeth’s condition. Through delirium, Elizabeth called out for Darcy and Lydia. Lydia soothed Elizabeth with a cold compress and sang to her. When their father and Jane weren’t at Elizabeth’s side, Elizabeth opened her eyes for a brief moment.

  “Lizzie, you’re finally awake!”

  Elizabeth cracked a smile. “And you’re alive. Wickham didn’t kill you after all?”

  “What a peculiar thing to say, Lizzie. You’re overcome with fever.”

  “You are safe, he did not harm you?”

  “No, thankfully after the party Bingley whisked me back home safely. Wickham is none the wiser. He is unaware that I am here. He would be furious to find me that I am sure of.”

  Elizabeth weakly grabbed Lydia’s hand. “Stay away from him, Lydia. He is pure evil. Please tell me what he whispered to you.”

  Lydia bit her lower lip and lowered her eyes and mumbled incoherently. “He told me if I did not act properly he would cause you and me great harm.” Immediately regretting telling her, Lydia got up and dropped some medicine in her water and handed her the glass. “Drink this, Lizzie; you will feel better.”

  Elizabeth’s brain was fuzzy with fever. Her mouth felt dry as if she had swallowed cotton. Her brain couldn’t register what she thought Lydia mumbled incoherently. All she caught was something about causing both of them harm. She shook her head, trying to clear the cobwebs. She didn’t refuse the water, but gladly drank it, and fell back to sleep.

  ****

  Darcy was the worse for wear; he ambled in and out of taverns and drank himself into a stupor, hoping to erase the possibility of losing Elizabeth forever. He struggled with his accusations and how he had treated Elizabeth once he caught her in the arms of another man. The angel on his shoulder chastised him. The nagging thoughts would not subside. Was I wrong to accuse her? Did she not catch me in the same position with Anne? And she has forgiven me. Then the alcohol would cloud his better judgment, and he would remember how she kept calling out for Charles in her sleep.

  As Darcy sank deeper into his alcoholic funk, roaming restlessly from one tavern to another, bar wenches tried to catch his eye, but failed to seduce him. He would push them aside when they tried to press their bosoms against him as they filled his mug with more ale. Eventually, when they realized they were getting nowhere, he was left alone to his own devices. He did not have Elizabeth or Anise to fill the void with their warmth and smiles. Dreams still plagued him. This time he stood before Elizabeth, in the pouring rain, just as he had left her. Instead, it was as if he were outside looking in at himself arguing with her and storming out of the manor. As a shadow, he watched the scene play before him. He could not move; it was as if his feet were glued to the ground. He tried to force his body and feet to move, so he could intercept himself, and stop himself from making the biggest mistake imaginable. His throat burned with screams that would not come out. His fists clenched in anger as he watched himself get into his carriage. He focused on Elizabeth, but he still could not move. His heart shattered into a million pieces as he heard her cries. Anger swirled as he watched Charles help her from the ground. Once she was on her feet, he watched her look straight through him. Her eyes pierced his very soul, and then she turned away and walked back into the manor. Rain mixed with tears blinded his eyes. Fat raindrops pelted his skin; he cared not, because it did not compare to the pain he felt deep within his core.

  A voice behind him caused the hair on his body to rise. “You made the biggest mistake of your life to assume she would ever cheat on you.”

  He attempted to turn around to see the source of the voice, yet he still could not. “Turn and show yourself.”

  His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when a specter materialized before him. “Who are you?”

  She smiled. “Aunt Jane or Lady Agatha Christie, whichever you prefer.”

  Blood drained from his face. “Impossible; I know of no Aunt Jane. You are a figment of my imagination.”

  “Elizabeth tried to tell you the truth that she is from another world. What she failed to mention is that you are too.”

  “Witch! You speak lies. I drank too much whiskey; you are not real.”

  “Darcy, you really need to shape up and stop denying the truth. You both are in trouble.”

  Darcy snickered. “Go away, witch; you are not welcome in my thoughts.”

  “Big mistake. I’ll be back, whether you like it or not.”

  “Begone,” he yelled as he watched her disappear. Lightning struck, and the impact jolted him awake.

  ****

  The morning after his vivid dream, every nerve in his body was on fire. He wanted to jump out of his own skin. Am I losing my mind? Have I lost Elizabeth? Defeated, he went on another bender and drank the day away. That night, in a drunken stupor, Darcy walked through the streets. He needed a distraction, and drinking drowned out his thoughts. There was a chill in the air; he pulled his coat closer around himself and continued to walk as if he had a mission, and he would find answers amidst a sea of faces.

  Then he saw her, the woman who had been plaguing his mind and dreams; she surely was the liaison between Elizabeth and Charles. “You, woman, you haunted my dreams last night and spoke with my wife at our party. I heard you both talk about going home, and about Charles. Pray to tell, who are you?” He slurred his words and got close to her face. He wanted to shake her, for she was
a witch and a viper, helping Elizabeth continue her affair with Charles.

  “I would not worry as to who I am,” she said grimly. “Instead I would worry about drinking yourself to death and finding yourself lying face down in a gutter. I would also worry about your relations with Elizabeth and change your opinion about her.” She paused. “Set your pride aside, Mr. Darcy, or you shall lose her. Throw away the notion that a good opinion once lost is lost forever, because your perception is skewed and drowned in whiskey.”

  Darcy sneered at her, his hot whiskey-laden breath inches away from her face.

  “I save you, and this is the thanks I get?”

  “So, you are a witch haunting my dreams?”

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy. You need to go back to your wife. You both are in danger; neither of you belongs here. You both were to go to London, but your stupid pride got in the way. Instead, you toss her aside while she is in grave danger. Now you are the one who must save her. You ruined everything.”

  Darcy fumed. “Ruined what? Your plans to help her to leave me for Charles?”

  Jane’s lips pursed in annoyance. “You’re a complete ass. What Elizabeth sees in you, I haven’t a clue.”

  “How dare you speak so with me and how dare you call me names. You do not know my life, nor shall I allow you to comment on my marital affairs. You are but a lowly spinster. Know your place, woman.”

  “As it may be; you are no better than me or anyone in this world, Mr. Darcy. It is you who should know your place, not I.” She waved her hand, causing Darcy to witness Elizabeth being pulled into Charles’ embrace. He watched her resist Charles, who gripped her arm forcefully, attempting to kiss her. His heart pounded against his rib cage, and he barked, “What spell did you cast upon me, you witch?”