Mr. Darcy's Bad Day: A Pride & Prejudice Novella

by Christie Capps

  “Sir, you assume far too much.” She did the same finger-poking thing her mother had just done. Had she actually jabbed Mr. Collins’ chest, it would have hurt even through the layers of clothing. Darcy refused to feel sorry for him. “You have not offered for me, nor have I given you an answer. Nonetheless, to save you the trouble, I would not marry you if you were the last man on earth. Any man who thinks physical dominance is appealing to a female is a fool, and you, Mr. Collins ARE A FOOL!”

  She turned to her mother, her hands fisted at her hips, face flushed, chin lifted, and her eyes flaming.

  “You are seeing what is not reality, Mama.” Her voice softened, though her words were clear. “As stated before, there has been no compromise. Mr. Darcy needed assistance. Had you been inside the room, you would have rushed to do the same, I know this of you. Your care and attention to guests in our home is unparalleled in all of Hertfordshire. Why, not even Mr. Bingley’s sisters offered the level of hospitality I know you routinely provide.”

  Mrs. Bennet preened under the praise. Darcy shuddered involuntarily at the thought of being clasped to Mrs. Bennet’s ample bosom. Why had Miss Elizabeth suggested something so horrifying? He barely kept from shuddering.

  “Pray, do not force Mr. Darcy’s hand.” Miss Elizabeth’s voice was so soft that Darcy had to lean forward to hear. “He is destined for greater connections than we have to offer, Mama. His affections are attached to Miss de Bourgh. To attempt to steal him away would be the mark of an inferior woman, and while you seek the best interests of your children, you are not the type of person to put your desires above those of others.”

  Darcy had to admit it was a valiant effort. Did Miss Elizabeth actually believe what she was saying? Hmm!

  Mrs. Bennet appeared to rethink her demands as her daughter’s words flowed over her soul like cooling water on a warm day. Then, she shook her head briskly.

  “No, no! You will not distract me. I have decided and will not change my mind.” Mrs. Bennet’s grin looked positively evil. “Since Mr. Darcy cannot easily maneuver downstairs to visit your father, I shall send him up.” She clapped her hands and squealed, sounding like a sow giving birth to a litter of overweight piglets. “One daughter married and soon another engaged. How can I bear being so happy.”

  Spinning, she vacated the room as quickly as she had entered—a whirling dervish leaving a path of devastation behind.

  “Mr. Darcy…” Both Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Collins spoke at the same time.

  He had no doubts as to his response. Standing carefully, grabbing at the crutch he had not noticed before leaning against the bed’s headboard, he looked at the clergyman.

  “Mr. Collins, I cannot imagine Lady Catherine being aware of your propensity to violence.”

  The rector sputtered.

  He cautiously took a step closer to the man. “Have no doubt that I will share your conduct towards Miss Elizabeth with Lady Catherine at the same time I share the news of my betrothal to your cousin, not mine.” Standing over the much shorter clergyman, he fisted his hand in the same manner the oaf had done to Miss Elizabeth, shaking it in his face. “You will not touch Miss Elizabeth.” He growled. “You will not look at her. You will not speak to her.” Each word was articulated plainly, his voice gaining in volume with each syllable. “Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Came the immediate reply, whereupon the oaf bowed to him at least three times before begging leave from Darcy’s presence. Mr. Collins ignored Miss Elizabeth as he departed the room. Darcy forgot about him as soon as he turned back to her, his eyes now focused intently on the woman next to him.

  She had captured his attention early on in their acquaintance and had kept it solidly fixed on her. He now understood it had not been done by design. Nevertheless, she had it anyway. He was not displeased with the current circumstances. There was much he admired about Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  She was not mercenary or she would have been as quick as her mother to insist on a marriage between them. She was well-read, conversant with subjects interesting to him, calm under pressure, efficient when needed, and polite to her elders, even when they were vulgarly wrong.

  The rector’s claims that Darcy was to marry his cousin, Anne de Bourgh, were the wishes of Lady Catherine, not him or Anne. They had little in common and held no affection other than what was common among family members. She had no desire to take on the task of mistress of Pemberley or wife to Fitzwilliam Darcy. He had no desire to…well, he could not even begin to contemplate a physical relationship with his frail cousin.

  Miss Elizabeth? Oh, yes. He had no trouble contemplating…he could feel his face getting red.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy started, though immediately wondered where his tongue was leading him as his brain had nothing to offer in the way of wise words, charmingly stated utterances, or sublime conversation. Even without his embarrassment at his wayward imaginings, he had never been gifted as a conversationalist.

  “Yes, Mr. Darcy?” Her left brow raised just as he had known it would. He smiled, hoping she would ignore the fact that his hair was, undoubtedly, standing up at odd angles from the pillow. Her pillow. Lavender.

  “I…I…I thank you for rescuing me and for, again, coming to my aid.” He wanted to slap himself in the forehead. That was all that came to mind?

  “You are welcome.” He heard her hesitation.

  His closest friends, Charles Bingley, and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, would not have been surprised at him desiring to get directly to the point. Once he decided upon a pathway, he pursued his goal with single-mindedness.

  “Marry me?”

  Four

  “Mr. Darcy, pray speak to my father before asking for an answer. He is a reasonable man who cares for the happiness of his daughters.” She sat in the chair next to the bed, ostensibly to await the presence of the man in question, while he attempted to do the same on the edge of the bed with as much grace as possible. In truth, not much was possible.

  Miss Elizabeth looked to his valet. “Sir, would you assist Mr. Darcy to find comfort? These past few minutes cannot have helped his injuries.” Then she quietly waited until Thornton had done as bid.

  “I thank you, and I am sure Mr. Darcy does as well.” With that, she again looked to the man who had been the cause of her removal from her own chambers, her head tilted and her eyes wide.

  “I cannot imagine a responsible father not insisting a marriage take place.” Darcy felt the need to tread cautiously. “Miss Elizabeth, can you not see the possibilities?”

  “Humph!” She lifted her chin. “So, you say.”

  “And you do not?” He was starting to get irritated. Having his ankle in a constant throb was not helping the situation.

  “Sir, if I wanted to marry to improve my family’s circumstances, I would have accepted Mr. Collins when he eventually offered. He is the heir to Longbourn. As his wife, I could see my sisters and mother remain in our home, if needed.” She hissed out a breath. “I refused his claim for the same reason I will refuse yours. I feel no more affection or respect for you as I do my father’s cousin.”

  “Those are harsh words you might wish to rethink before your father walks through that door.” He pointed to the opening to the hallway with his chin.

  “Why are you pushing for this, Mr. Darcy? You do not find me attractive? You have shown disdain to all I know and love. You can barely tolerate my company and look to find fault, which I am certain you are able to do with success.” Miss Elizabeth raised both hands, palms up, with her shoulders lifted. She looked to his valet. “By chance, did Mr. Darcy hit his head when he fell?”

  “There is nothing wrong with my head or my thinking, Miss Elizabeth. I am sensible of what I asked of you. I also am sensible of what your mother and that toad, Mr. Collins, witnessed when you attempted to break my fall. For a certainty, many marriages have happened because of far less physical contact. We were…” he coughed. “We were pressed against each other from our shoulders to
our toes.”

  “We were not!” She stubbornly insisted. “My shoulders are several inches below yours, to be exact. Do not exaggerate the situation, for I do not appreciate it at all.”

  “You are splitting hairs, my lady.” He insisted, a feeling of desperation filling his chest. What if Mr. Bennet did not insist on a marriage? What would he do then?

  “Yes, I am.” Boldly, she looked him straight in the eye.

  Her comment put him off balance, as it was the last thing he expected. “You do not fight fair.” He delighted knowing she would keep him off-kilter. He could easily perceive a future far less dull than the marriages of most of his friends and acquaintances.

  “Do you waltz, Mr. Darcy?”

  He shook his head, discerning he had no clue how her mind had traveled from the dividing of the tresses on her head to dancing. “I do.” He was burning with curiosity, though he still felt the sting of her comment that she had no affection or respect for him. Lumping him in with that imbecile had been an insult. He was Fitzwilliam Darcy, not some ignorant nincompoop. “Why do you ask?”

  “How can you tell if a dancer has never danced the waltz before?”

  Good! An easy question. “They stumble and do not move in concert with their partner.”

  “As a practiced observer, is it a pleasing sight?”

  Had she watched him watching others? “No, it is difficult to see.”

  “Do you believe it is any more pleasant when you see a husband and wife continually pushing and pulling against each other, moving out of harmony? For, I cannot imagine anything more unsightly.”

  He understood. He had yet to see Mr. and Mrs. Bennet together at a social event. He had never seen them in a room together. Miss Elizabeth’s mother was loud, while her husband closeted himself away in his book room. He did not blame the man. Neither could he blame Miss Elizabeth. To a young woman of discernment, she would long for a different sort of match, where peaceful harmony would be the order of the day.

  “I comprehend the metaphor.” He paused, pondering how he should make his point. “However, how is a couple to learn the moves unless they practice?”

  “Mr. Darcy. I will not belabor the matter.” She leaned towards him. “You cannot truly wish this.”

  A deep voice from the doorway interrupted. “Whether he wishes ‘this’ or not, Lizzy dear, it appears you are engaged to marry, for your mother and my cousin have both invaded my lair with reports of a most scandalous nature.”

  “Papa!” Miss Elizabeth pleaded with the man, her eyes limpid pools of distress. “Do not make me do this, I pray you.” She stood and walked to him as he entered, clasping his left hand with both of hers. “I do not love him.”

  Mr. Bennet patted her shoulder with his free hand. “I know, my daughter.” He sighed and Darcy felt victorious. Miss Elizabeth’s father would support his petition. His relief was immense.

  Thornton provided a chair, placing it next to Miss Elizabeth. As soon as her father sat, he began again.

  “I have no doubt of your innocence and have pieced together the events as they most likely happened.” Mr. Bennet reassured them both. “Nonetheless, your mother has already requested the carriage and is off to spread the tale…”

  “Did you not tell her to keep silent? Did you keep the carriage from her?” Miss Elizabeth begged with her words and her pained expression for her sensible parent to provide reassurance.

  “You know as well as I, Lizzy, that your mother will do as she wishes.”

  “But…” Elizabeth pleaded.

  Darcy could feel her frustration even though her father appeared to ignore his beloved daughter’s concerns.

  “No, Lizzy. Your mother will not stop speaking of this until she has satisfied herself that her friends will envy her the match.” He chuckled, and Darcy was immediately angered. There was nothing humorous when belittling the concerns of his intended.

  “Mr. Bennet,” Darcy bluntly caught the man’s attention. “You had a choice the minute your wife and cousin began speaking of something so inappropriate, something with the power to ruin the reputations of each one of your children. Your failure to act, to use your authority as husband and head of this household, has placed the daughter who I have heard referred to as your favorite in a position against her wishes and her very nature.”

  Mr. Bennet looked out from under his bushy eyebrows with a steady gaze. He seemed unfazed by Darcy’s criticism. His response proved this to be truth.

  “You are undoubtedly correct, Mr. Darcy.” Mr. Bennet crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in the chair, his posture seeming relaxed and unaffected. “Nonetheless, you are not married to Mrs. Bennet. I am.”

  “It happens that Mr. Collins is the rector of a living held by my aunt Catherine.” Darcy stated with clarity. “I have no doubts he is penning a missive which will bring her running to your door in an effort to overthrow your wife’s desires. She is unused to being denied. This engagement will be unacceptable to her. She will challenge your authority to make this happen and your wife’s gossip as being the stuff of lies. I have no doubt you and your family will suffer grievously because of her interference.”

  “Then I expect you to stop her.” Mr. Bennet replied.

  “As you stopped Mrs. Bennet?” Darcy snapped back.

  “You are quick, my boy.”

  “I, am not a boy, Mr. Bennet, and have not been for a long time.” Darcy hissed. “You may find fault with my discomfort in the company of strangers, and in speaking without thought on occasion, but you will never fault me for caring diligently for my responsibilities. Should Miss Elizabeth and I find ourselves married, I will care for her, protecting her with everything I possess. She will never worry that I would abandon her to scorn or censure for I have no doubt we will partner in making decisions for our family so we have peace and contentment rule our home.” His voice rose. “Never would I abdicate my authority to make her an object of ridicule, for a wife reflects the quality of man she marries. I will spend my lifetime striving to make her proud to be married to me.”

  Mr. Bennet clapped, and Darcy’s ire grew exponentially.

  “Well said, Mr. Darcy.” He turned to his daughter, lifting his brow. “Your young man is able to speak well when he chooses. This should give you reason to believe your home will not remain silent as a tomb.” He stood and moved behind the chair, not making eye contact with Miss Elizabeth or offering reassurance in any form. Instead, he stared at Darcy. “You are a guest in my home, one who is not here by invitation. You openly condemn my marriage and the care of my household. You have managed, in one afternoon, to compromise my most precious child, tying yourself to this same household. Despite these insults, you are seeking my consent and blessing to this union, am I correct?”

  “You are.” He knew what he wanted more than he had that morning. He would take Elizabeth Bennet from this zoo to a home where she would be treated with dignity. If she had not yet reached her majority, it was Mr. Bennet’s consent or Gretna Green. At that moment in time, either would do for him.

  “I am astounded at your arrogance.” Mr. Bennet shook his head. “Lizzy, you have been unusually quiet. Do you have anything to add?” Her father finally looked at his daughter. Darcy did as well.

  “I have much to say, Papa. Are you willing to listen?”

  “Elizabeth, I have been married to a woman I did not love for almost one quarter of a century. Has it been worth it?” His question was rhetorical. “Absolutely. I would not have had you to adore for the last twenty years had I not wed your mother. Every day I choose to be contented with the few joys I have, rather than the many miseries. You and I are of a similar nature, Lizzy. I doubt it will take much for you to see beyond his offensiveness to the benefits of marriage to this man. Therefore, no, I do not need to listen to your complaints or comments, my daughter.”

  With those few words, he dismissed Miss Elizabeth, crushing her heart in the process. Mr. Bennet walked to the doorway. Turning back, he said,
“The bishop is visiting our shire. He is a favored chess opponent and frequent guest. I will send for him so you can purchase a special license. You will marry on the morrow.”

  He left the room in stunned silence.

  Darcy had never witnessed disappointment on Miss Elizabeth’s face. She was rarely seen without a kind smile. This hurt his heart to see her pained.

  A tear trickled down her cheek.

  He thought to reassure her. “I will attempt to be a good husband.”

  She sobbed, burying her face in her hands.

  Could this day get any worse?

  Five

  In his almost eight and twenty years, Fitzwilliam Darcy had rarely felt sorry for himself. He had mourned the loss of each of his beloved parents, lamented the necessity to leave his home and cherished little sister to live away from his family at Eton and Cambridge, and suffered the traitorous deeds of his former friend. Each event, though causing intense anguish, had molded him, strengthened him into a man his parents would have been proud of. Of this fact, he had no doubt.