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

by Christie Capps

  In due time.

  Frustrated, he set things in motion. Thornton plied him with the drug after making him as comfortable as possible. Elizabeth sent a note by express to the Darcy House staff to prepare for the master and his new wife’s arrival that evening. Mr. Bennet walked into Longbourn and chose not to look back. Mr. Collins stood outside the carriage window and wrung his hands, muttering. Elizabeth’s sisters, especially Jane, wished them well, then moved into the house to get out of the chill. The couple raced off to town before Mrs. Bennet could remove her bonnet.

  Thornton would see to the collection of his possessions from both residences in Hertfordshire and then hasten to London in the servant’s carriage to see everyone settled. In the meantime, Elizabeth was in charge. With that last thought, and what was probably a silly-looking smile on his face, Darcy slept.

  The trip was made with minimum discomfort to him. He did not wake until hours later when he was ensconced in the master’s chambers with pillows tucked in the appropriate places. Had that been him snoring? Certainly not!

  Looking around, he was disappointed to find he was alone. Where was his wife? Was she pleased with her new home? Did she find her new chambers to be a place she would want to reside? Did she like him yet?

  Eight

  Darcy woke the next morning ready to rally the troops. Elizabeth first needed a tour of their residence with an eye to updating any of the furnishings, should she desire. A modiste would be summoned to provide the new mistress of Pemberley and Darcy House with a complete wardrobe—something appropriate for her new position in society. Jewelry boxes needed removed from the safe to study each piece to see if it appealed to Elizabeth, or not. The Darcy family jeweler could be called to have the pieces she rejected redesigned or reset. Nothing was too much work for his bride. Notices would need to be sent to the circulating papers and letters needed to be written to his family to inform them of his marriage. He had much to do on this first morning of having a wife.

  Nonetheless, his first task was to safely get out of bed. He still had a bit of a fog left over from the laudanum. Before he could extricate himself, someone tapped on his outer door. Elizabeth? He was intensely disappointed to find it was his housekeeper, Mrs. Drummond.

  “You asked to see me, Mr. Darcy?”

  I did? Perhaps, he had issued the instructions the night before. The housekeeper was a no-nonsense woman who ran his Darcy House efficiently. She could be kind when needed, but brooked no laziness in any member of the staff, including herself.

  “I did.” He had no reason not to agree. It was time to put his plans into action. “Pray return in a half hour, Mrs. Drummond. We have much to discuss.”

  While Thornton attended to him, he inquired as to the staff’s initial impression of the new mistress.

  His valet, as was typical, had much to share.

  “Molly was assigned to assist her last evening and this morning. She reported how your wife offered sincere comments of appreciation when each task was done. Cook was pleased to receive a kind word about the tastiness of the creamed peas, and Mrs. Drummond’s nerves have settled and she is ready to proceed with any instruction Mrs. Darcy might have.”

  “Has Mrs. Darcy broken her fast?”

  He hated to admit he had no clue where his wife was, if she was still lying in her bed next door—tucked under the covers enjoying the space of her new bed. It was made for two, not like the one he slept in at Longbourn. Her bed. Lavender.

  “Yes, she was downstairs early and is now in the library, seated before the fire with a stack of books on the table and a cup of fresh tea in her hands.” Thornton smiled, and Darcy was happy to see him pleased. “Mrs. Darcy was offered a tour of the house, but has decided to wait until you are up and around. She asked only about the reading room and the music salon.”

  He nodded. How like his Elizabeth.

  “Mrs. Drummond did as you requested, sir, and explained to Mrs. Darcy that she had complete oversight of the premises. She offered to review the accounts and give her the keys to the linen cupboards.” Again, the valet smiled. “Mrs. Darcy politely declined for the moment, saying she wanted to settle in first and that your health was her first priority.” Thornton dropped his voice almost to a whisper. “I was most happy to hear this, sir, though it was not unexpected.”

  Darcy nodded, delighted with the report.

  When Mrs. Drummond returned, orders were given for a modiste. He was surprised to find he had already given instructions soon after their arrival. It seems that even in a daze, Darcy managed his household well. Georgiana’s dressmaker would be at Darcy House within the hour.

  “Master William,” Mrs. Drummond addressed him as she always had. “I am as pleased as punch with the mistress and know I am overreaching by reporting a private conversation to you, but, in my delight, I cannot keep silent.”

  “What is this?” He was curious. His housekeeper had never before commented on personal matters of the family, so this was highly out of character.

  “When I did as you asked and offered to deliver the jewel boxes to Mrs. Darcy’s sitting room for her to survey all she now owned, she declined. It was then that she asked about the library.” Mrs. Drummond practically bounced in her pleasure. “Your dearly departed mother, Lady Anne, would be pleased that you made a love match, sir. Of that I have no doubt.”

  The housekeeper had served under the authority of his mother for years and had known her well. Darcy smiled and laid back against the headboard, where Thornton had put him when he woke.

  Suddenly, Darcy was excited. He anticipated a new beginning with his wife where he could reveal all they would share. Wait until she saw the library at Pemberley and the multitude of walking trails. She would love the gazebo to the east set at the edge of a lake where she could take a book and a picnic while she enjoyed the afternoon breeze. He would lay it all out for her to relish. Imaging her joy at learning what her life was to be, he could not contain his own happiness. He felt full of relief. They would be happy. She would love him as much as he loved her. He loved her?

  Yes, he loved her. Contentment filled him, chasing out all fear of having his heart exposed to harm should she continue to not return his affections. He would love her enough for the both of them until she caught up. Until then, he would be the gentleman his parents raised him to be, someone she would long to spend time with, to enjoy companionship with, and to learn to cherish. His smile was unrestrained.

  Disturbing his pleasurable thoughts, the front door suddenly slammed back until it hit the wall and a voice of doom yelled so loudly he could hear each individual word—which was no mean feat with the distance the sound had to travel to reach his ears.

  “Where is my nephew and where is the trollop he married?”

  Lady Catherine de Bourgh had arrived.

  He wanted to throw something, preferably his fist. Blushing at his disrespect for his mother’s sister, he stood with the help of the crutch and his valet. Manipulating his way to the doorway, he started down the long hall, cursing his slowness with each painful step.

  Elizabeth had reached Lady Catherine first.

  “I understand you are from Kent?” he heard Elizabeth ask. Whatever she had intended to say next was rudely cut off by his aunt.

  “I know where I am from, you impertinent girl! I demand to see my nephew. Where is he?”

  His aunt was in fine fettle. Before he could shout a response, his wife answered, much more calmly then he had intended.

  “Lady Catherine, you may be aunt to my husband, but this is my home. Your making demands is highly inappropriate and unwelcomed.” Elizabeth kept her tone soft. He heard his aunt start to interrupt. Elizabeth continued, “You may make all the demands you feel you deserve and you may stand out here at your leisure, or you can be welcomed to Darcy House as the guest you could be. As I see it, Lady Catherine, you have two choices. Remain here and shout, or allow the staff to see to your comfort. Your outer clothes will be gathered, you can follow Mrs. Drummond
into the drawing room where you can warm yourself by the fire, and enjoy refreshments with me while we discuss this situation in a refined manner. The choice is entirely up to you.”

  He hurried as fast as he could, frustration mixing with his ire. His responsibility was to protect his household and his wife from harm. He felt powerless and useless. Finally giving in, he dropped the crutch to the ground and bore the pain. Moving much quicker, he arrived at the top of the stairs in time to hear, “I will not be spoken to in such a manner in my sister’s home,” Lady Catherine insisted. “Do you know who I am? I am the daughter of an earl, the sister of one of the most superior women who ever walked on this earth, and the mother of a child perfectly formed to be the mistress of this household. Who are you? Who is your mother? Who are your people? Can you claim a superiority of birth to justify attempting to coerce me to your bidding? I ask you again, who are you?”

  With each word, his aunt had inched closer to Elizabeth. His wife stood her ground. In fact, she leaned closer as soon as Lady Catherine finished her offensive cross-examination.

  He watched in awe, impressed with her bravery. His wife was younger, smaller, and had far less experience with confrontation from someone with strong opinions like his aunt. He was proud of her.

  Grabbing the bannister, Darcy descended as quickly as his ankle would allow. By the time he got to the bottom, he was hopping on one foot and hopping mad at the same time. Before he could open his mouth, his wife spoke.

  “Lady Catherine, poor manners will not be tolerated in our home. Not by you, and not by anyone related to me. Your nephew chose me to be his wife long before he asked for my hand. Who are you to question his judgment?” Elizabeth pointed her finger at Lady Catherine’s chest, her voice still sounding serene. “You stated one fact I agree with …”

  Elizabeth stopped speaking, leaving the thought in mid-air. Even he wondered which portion of his aunt’s tirade she considered truthful. Lady Catherine waited. Then she waited some more, her irritation increasing with each passing swing of the grand clock pendulum. Finally, she could stand it no longer.

  “Out with it!” she demanded, her head thrown back and her nose elevated as high as her opinions. “What fact could we ever have in common? You are a simple girl, one who used her arts and allurements to capture Darcy. Your mercenary nature has been told me in minute detail by my own rector. He shared how you abandoned your interest in him as soon as a wealthier man came into the shire. You do not deserve to live in this home. You do not deserve to enter through the front doorway. You have done nothing to earn a place in this household and in the Fitzwilliam family.”

  “Well, that is a shame, Lady Catherine.” Elizabeth shook her head. Darcy wondered what she was up to. She was not intimidated by his aunt’s outrageous lies. She stood her ground and he finally stood right beside her.

  She turned to him.

  “William, your aunt and I were speaking of your mother.” She grabbed his upper arm and stepped closer to him so he could lean against her. “Pray, let us move into the drawing room so you may rest your injured leg. The trip from your chambers to here must have been exceedingly painful.” She smiled at him, ignoring his aunt. He wanted to embrace her or applaud. “Come, let us see to your comfort, husband.”

  Leaving his aunt standing in the entrance hall with her mouth hung open was priceless. She sputtered. She hissed like an old barn cat. But no words left her mouth.

  When they reached the drawing room, Elizabeth looked back.

  “Lady Catherine, are you coming or not?” His wife’s left brow lifted, and he was enchanted. How could she do that? Take him from explosive anger to pleasure?

  “What?” the question burst from his aunt.

  “You were hoping to tell me of Lady Anne, were you not? I would love to hear about such a superior woman and think to know my husband better by hearing of the woman responsible for his birth and the development of his character.” Elizabeth waited.

  Lady Catherine followed. Darcy would have bet his fortune on her not doing so—and he would have lost.

  Nine

  By the time Lady Catherine was finally shown the door, several hours had passed. Elizabeth had kept her dignity the whole time. Lady Catherine? He sighed. There had been a few instances where he thought he would have to step between her and Elizabeth to protect his wife. However, his aunt was not immune to good manners and an uplifted eyebrow. They did not part as friends, but he doubted Lady Catherine would try to abuse his wife again.

  “Elizabeth, I find it difficult to comprehend what happened in our own home.” He leaned closer to her, being thrilled she had placed herself at his side when they were first seated. “What did happen here?”

  He did not expect her mirth.

  “Do you not know? Can you not see the similarities?” Elizabeth asked. When he shook his head stupidly, she continued. “What drives your aunt is fear. Fear of change. Fear of losing her place in society. Fear for her daughter’s future. Does this not sound familiar?”

  “Your mother?”

  “Yes, my mother.” Elizabeth did not pull away when he moved closer so he tried it again. “There is no sense shouting back because they cannot hear beyond the turmoil in their own minds. There is no sense getting angry because a certain amount of their concerns are based on truth. Your aunt is much older than my mother. She must worry about dying and leaving your cousin alone, unprotected. She must worry about her name being forgotten when other family members start having children and growing families of their own, making it almost impossible for her to be involved in their lives. Yes, I noted too many similarities to ignore. Therefore, I treated her like I do my mother, and she responded the same.”

  “Well, I am amazed.” He moved his hand to hers and clasped her fingers in his. Again, she did not pull away, so he entwined his fingers with her own. They were palm to palm. Why that made his breathing hitch, he thought he knew—though he did not feel it was the proper hour to pursue the topic. “And, I am proud, Mrs. Darcy.”

  “Did I prove my worth, sir? Am I to be rewarded for my good behavior with closets of new clothes, heaps of diamonds and pearls, new carriages, and your ten-thousand a year?”

  He loved that she could laugh at him. He loved her. Taking a chance, he moved ever closer, tilting his head as she responded by tilting her own.

  Her lips were full and lush, red where she had teased the corner of the bottom with her teeth. Oh, what it did to him when she bit her lip. He vowed, then and there, that he would kiss that bottom lip every time she bit it.

  He moved closer until he could feel her breath on his chin. Closer until he could almost touch her. Closer still …

  “Ee-Haw! Ee-Haw!” Instead of Elizabeth’s mouth being gently pressed against his, a cold wet donkey tongue slathered him with saliva from his chin, up his left cheek, and into his dark, curly hair, knocking his hat off.

  “What?” Darcy looked around. Instead of being cozied up in his drawing room at Darcy House in London, he was in the pasture leaning up against a boulder with Longbourn in his sites.

  “Ewww! Stop!” He pushed against the animal’s muzzle to get Benedick to move away from him. The stubborn animal had no intentions of moving. Darcy wanted to lash out at the four-legged creature, but knew how self-protective donkeys were. The throbbing in his ankle inside his boot rapidly informed him he was injured. Reaching behind his head, he found the large knot at the bottom of his skull. He must have hit the rock on his way down.

  Darcy looked up at the sky as his hand moved of its own accord to Benedick’s nose. He scratched, then pushed the donkey’s head away when its mouth opened and his tongue reappeared. Yuck! Darcy tilted his head and wiped the side of his face on the sleeve of his coat. The fabric was dry. It had not yet rained.

  Darcy looked up at the clouds covering the muted sunlight and had no idea how long he had been in the field. What he did know was that he needed to seek assistance and that everything that had occurred had resulted from his own ima
gination, not reality.

  He sighed. What a shame! He had not compromised Elizabeth. No, she was Miss Elizabeth. He had already met Mr. Collins so that occurrence was also untrue.

  Darcy pulled at a blade of grass and crushed it in his hand. He was not married. More specifically, he was not married to Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

  His heart hurt. He scoffed. He should be grateful. He should be rejoicing at not being tied to her ridiculous mother and sisters and her indifferent father who would keep such an animal, most likely for entertainment. But he was not grateful and he certainly was not rejoicing.

  “What do you think, Benedick?” He rubbed the donkey’s nose again. “Is Elizabeth the Beatrice to my Benedick?” Hearing his name, the donkey whinnied. “Not you. Me?”

  Whimsically, he thought about the characters in Shakespeare’s play and compared them with his current circumstance. Both Beatrice and Benedick claimed to have no interest in the other. They worked hard to leave the impression that they were not the least bit interested and vowed never to marry, especially each other. Yet, by the end of the play, they had found their happily-ever-after. Would the same happen with him and Elizabeth?