Haunting Mr. Darcy

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  A knock at the door startled Elizabeth and she jumped upright, a bloom coming to her cheeks. It is I whose wits are addled! Grateful for the distraction and eager for some diversion to steer her thoughts to more reasonable avenues, Elizabeth looked towards the door with some anticipation. She closed her eyes only briefly when she heard Darcy’s resonant voice herald the visitor to enter. It was a voice to which she had become attuned, and she had not heard it all day except for the rare occasions he needed to speak to a member of his staff. Adding to her muddled thoughts, she found she missed it.

  “Mr. Darcy, sir. I apologize for the disturbance.”

  Darcy stood then to stretch his shoulders and responded with warm familiarity. “Not at all, Mr. Carroll. I should have taken a break some time ago. What is it?”

  Elizabeth admitted that, the longer she saw Darcy interact with his staff, the more she had to admire his calm, gracious way of managing his estate. He was kind to his servants, and they obviously respected him in return. The familiarity she saw between him and his butler now only added to the evidence that Mr. Darcy was a careful, considerate master. This was as surprising to learn as it was pleasing.

  Good humor reflected in the hazel eyes of the middle-aged gentleman before her. The grey hair at his temples added to his dignified appearance, and the smile lines around his eyes defied it.

  “I came to inform you that Miss Bingley is here, calling on Miss Darcy, sir.”

  Elizabeth looked at Darcy for his response and smiled when she saw his face fall and his eyes roll unexpectedly in a rather juvenile manner. He sighed before asking, “And might I hope to hear that her brother is in attendance as well?”

  The wishful tone of his voice made Elizabeth laugh, for she had never considered that he might not experience pleasure at the acquaintance.

  Mr. Carroll’s mouth twitched in a half smile and responded good-naturedly. “You may hope all you wish, sir. I fear that it will do little good. She and Mrs. Hurst arrived five minutes ago — quite alone.”

  Darcy groaned and, nodding to his butler, said, “Very well. Notify my sister that I will attend her shortly. And thank you for informing me.”

  “It was your wish that I do so, as I recall, sir.” The two exchanged amused smiles and Mr. Carroll went on: “Would you . . . be wanting some fortification prior, sir?”

  Darcy’s brow rose in amusement. “Fortification, Mr. Carroll?”

  The butler smiled, giving way to his good humor. “It is to my certain knowledge that you possess a very fine wine cellar, sir, and at the very least a bottle or two of French — ”

  Darcy’s loud guffaw interrupted the man then, and Elizabeth watched, in heightened amusement herself, as the butler smiled — obviously expecting Darcy’s reaction to his jest.

  “A tempting idea, my good man, indeed very tempting.” Darcy sighed dramatically before finishing. “But alas, I am not so fearful of the consequences of one afternoon tea with the lady. And besides, I promised Georgiana that I should not leave her alone when Miss Bingley calls.”

  Mr. Carroll bowed in acknowledgement and began to back out of the room.

  “To the front, then Mr. Carroll. Lead your troops to battle.”

  Elizabeth laughed openly at Mr. Darcy’s nonsense. She was beginning to find that he improved upon further acquaintance. If this display of comedy was an aspect of his character, it was a welcome discovery to her.

  “Onward soldiers, indeed. The foe is as fierce as she is foolhardy.” Elizabeth chuckled; her smile remaining when she saw that for the first time that morning, Mr. Darcy’s smile stayed, almost certainly in response to her words.

  * * *

  Darcy paused outside the door to the morning room where his sister and her guests were visiting. It was not a visit he anticipated with much pleasure. Miss Bingley’s ingratiating behavior to both Darcys had always been endured with patience rather than pleasure for the sake of his good friend, for Mr. Bingley did not deserve to have Darcy cut his sister.

  “Oh come now, Mr. Darcy, why the delay? Surely you exaggerate the gravity of the situation.”

  Darcy smiled in spite of himself when he heard her words coming from behind him. He had done well enough today at telling himself she was not real. It helped to disabuse him of the need to look upon her ivory skin or react to her impertinent speeches. He waited longer at the door without entering to see whether he might provoke her into talking again. He knew she could not resist teasing him, and it was always with a mixture of anticipated excitement and vexation that he received it. Sadly for him, the vexation was not due to displeasure at being teased but at the realization that he rather delighted in it. Foolish man that I am. His lips pressed together to keep his smile from becoming more pronounced when she spoke again just as he had predicted.

  “They are in fact very fine ladies, not deficient in good humor when they are pleased, nor in the power of being agreeable where they choose, but proud and conceited, I will grant you.”

  Darcy was at first taken aback by this view of his friend’s sisters, for although he had never enjoyed their company, he had always considered them to be well-educated, proper ladies. He found this sketch of them at once profoundly accurate and, to his further displeasure, only highlighted to himself the deficiencies in his previous approbation of the ladies. Their incivility towards Elizabeth in the past had always been due to his admitted admiration of her, he thought, but upon hearing Elizabeth’s opinion of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, he recalled their general behavior towards society in Hertfordshire with new eyes.

  Not wishing to dwell too much on this new discovery at the moment, not entirely because it brought with it recollections of his own poor behavior amongst Elizabeth’s neighbors, Darcy squared his shoulders and — without acknowledging that he had heard, been distracted by, and was provoked by Elizabeth’s speech — ventured into the room. Obviously, the lady followed.

  “Miss Bingley, Mrs. Hurst. May I bid you ladies a good morning?” Darcy said while performing a perfect bow.

  Miss Bingley stood upon his entrance and, abruptly leaving her conversation with the lady she had come to call upon, drew herself next to him. After curtsying with the refinement of any student educated at one of the first private seminaries in London, her cloying smile was aimed at him.

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy, we are having a wonderful tea with your dear sister.” She smiled over her shoulder at his sister; the look now struck Darcy with its insincerity.

  How had I not noticed before?

  Thwarting her attempts to loop her hand through his arm, he held his hands behind his back and smiled tightly at her. Noting the pale complexion of his sister, Darcy walked casually into the room.

  “Georgiana, dear,” he said as he bent to place a kiss on her cheek. Upon straightening, he took up a place behind her seat and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder.

  “Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst were just discussing tonight’s engagement.”

  “Ahh, yes — Lord and Lady Matlock’s winter ball.” Darcy was gladdened to hear his sister’s voice held little distress. Georgiana had confessed some months ago that the Bingley sisters made her uncomfortable with their constant compliments and praise. He had suggested then it was merely their natural admiration of her, and naturally, they should praise her many accomplishments. Nevertheless, he had agreed to accompany Georgiana whenever the Bingley sisters visited. Now he wondered whether their flattery was another attempt at ingratiating themselves with him.

  “Indeed, Mr. Darcy, we were just saying that it is such a shame that Miss Darcy is not out and will not be in attendance this evening. I am certain she would catch the eye of every gentleman if she were,” Mrs. Hurst said with an ennui that betrayed her true sentiments.

  “The way they fawn over your sister, sir, is frankly disgusting. Even I can see that she does not wish for such compliments,” Elizabeth said with such sympathy that Darcy almost turned to look upon her; indeed, the temptation was so strong that his grip on the chair
in front of him tightened in the struggle.

  The warmth in her voice, the perception she showed for Georgiana’s true feelings, and the genuine scorn she attributed to the Bingley sisters only heightened his regard for her. A fissure of calm wove around his heart, melting his efforts to evict her from that portion she owned. Still he schooled himself to give away none of this new turmoil in his breast. It cannot be. He sighed to himself and squeezed his sister’s shoulder gently, glad she had one true champion in Elizabeth, his mental creation of her being as considerate as he would have expected of the real Elizabeth.

  “I thank you, Mrs. Hurst. Georgiana is, indeed, a striking young lady — though, you must admit, perhaps a bit young for society. Of that, I am grateful,” he said looking down at her upturned face. “I should not like to have her leave me so soon.”

  Miss Bingley, tired of a conversation in which she had no share or in which she did not stand in prominence rather, stood abruptly and with exaggerated regret, said, “Sir, forgive me for neglecting your tea. Allow me now to pour.”

  Darcy’s jaw tightened at Miss Bingley’s assumption and transgression of his sister’s role of hostess and mistress of his home, and instead inclined his head at the lady. He must have betrayed his anger for he felt Georgiana place her hand on his tense one upon her shoulder. Immediately he relaxed and loosed his hold. Now it was sister giving comfort to brother.

  “I say, she goes a bit far, do you not think, sir?”

  “Indeed,” he responded to both Miss Bingley and Elizabeth.

  Miss Bingley, gratified by his response was quick to pour the tea and procure him a plate of pastries from the table. He thanked her in stilted tones when she handed the refreshments to him. Taking the opportunity to seat himself, he took up the companion chair to his sister’s when Miss Bingley returned with superior satisfaction to her own seat near her sister.

  Darcy brought his cup to his mouth and tasting the tea, held back a grimace.

  “Not enough sugar for you, Brother,” Georgiana teased.

  “Not enough sugar for you, Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth teased. The two ladies having spoken at once, causing Darcy to almost spew the drink down his cravat and waistcoat.

  “I begin to like your sister, sir,” Elizabeth said with a laugh.

  “Oh I am sorry, William,” Georgiana said with a slight chuckle when she saw him cough. “Here let me make amends.”

  Darcy watched as his sister discreetly switched plates with him and crossed to the refreshment table. He watched her return the lemon pastry Miss Bingley had procured for him and replace it with one of the raspberry tarts he preferred. She knew that he did not like the lemon. When she returned, she easily switched him plates again before the Bingleys could take note.

  “Then again, I may have to question her judgment, Mr. Darcy. She took away that lovely lemon pastry. And it looked so delicious. Such a shame.”

  Darcy smiled at this, knowing Elizabeth’s preferences had always included lemon-flavored delicacies and found himself absurdly wishing for that abandoned pastry despite his sister’s considerate actions.

  He winked at his sister and, wishing to move the visit along to its inevitable and long anticipated ending, turned towards his guests. “I believe you were speaking of the ball this evening. You ladies, I am sure, have many preparations to attend. It was kind of you to take the time away from your afternoon of pampering to pay us a visit.”

  Miss Bingley either did not take the subtle hint or purposely ignored it. “You paint the picture that we ladies spend all day in preparation. ’Tis not kind, sir,” she said coquettishly.

  Her little flirt was purposely ignored as Darcy stood then to place his full cup of tea on the table. He should not have brought up the topic of the ball again, for he was sure she hoped for an invitation to dance, and at the moment, he was not in any mood to request it.

  To his surprise, Miss Bingley followed him to the table under the guise of disposing of her own dish. He looked back at his sister and saw that she was in quiet conversation with Mrs. Hurst, so he could not return without looking quite rude to Miss Bingley. He was tempted to do so anyway, especially when she came closer than propriety allowed and whispered conspiratorially to him.

  “I must speak to you on a matter of delicacy, Mr. Darcy. And as our sisters are engaged, I hope you do not mind that I do so now.”

  Darcy refrained from the cutting remark he wished to give and instead nodded his assent. The quicker she finished, the sooner she would leave. Out of the corner of his eye, he could not help noticing that Elizabeth had drawn closer also.

  “My thanks, sir. I shall be quick, for we have little time.” She stepped yet nearer to him, causing his shoulders to tense at the proximity. “About a fortnight ago I received a letter from a certain acquaintance we both share in Hertfordshire.”

  Her significant pause here caused the tension to spread to his neck because he was conscious of whom they were speaking and also because his Elizabeth was listening. Even mentally claiming Elizabeth’s imagined spirit as his could not calm the disquiet spreading in his mind. He could not explain it, but even though it should not matter that his Elizabeth hear Miss Bingley — being a fabrication of his own creation, her very being was entirely from the recesses of his own mind — he still did not relish the idea of her hearing any of this conversation. A foreboding unequal to any he had ever felt began to weigh heavily on his heart.

  Miss Bingley continued despite his lack of response. “Miss Bennet has written me, sir and the subject of her correspondence is most troubling to our cause. I would wish to hear your opinion on the matter. She informs me that she is due to arrive in London soon for a short duration’s visit with her aunt and uncle in Cheapside!” She said the last with such derision that Darcy winced at her rudeness.

  “Of what ‘cause’ does she speak, sir?” Elizabeth interjected with some heat.

  He could not help himself then; he looked upon her. Her cheeks were gloriously pink, her eyes alight with an angry fire that only added to their brilliance, her beauty positively hitting him with a force he could not deny even in her growing fury. For a moment, he just looked upon her. She raised her brow at his lack of answer, and he watched her cross her arms as she waited.

  “Sir, what should I do? I have not replied, for I wished your counsel. Do you think it wise that Charles risk seeing her at this early stage? I fear all our attempts at separating and protecting him from her will be for naught if he sees Miss Bennet in London.”

  “I should have known; indeed, I think I may have.” Elizabeth’s quiet tone only underscored her growing rage, and Darcy could not help but fear the consequences of this revelation.

  He knew she had understood the matter correctly. He, with the help of Miss Bingley, had separated her sister, Miss Jane Bennet, from his friend. His intentions had been compassionate on the part of Bingley, but he could see that none of that mattered to her. Already, she was refusing to look at him anymore. He watched her pace back and forth across the floor before him, her delicate hands pulling through her hair. He had spent the last few days wishing for his sanity, and now that it looked as if his own actions might cause her to leave him, he feared the pain of it happening.

  “Sir? Did you not hear me?” Miss Bingley’s attempt at pulling his attention back to her reminded Darcy how his staring at nothing across the room must look.

  Though he did not wish it, the words began tumbling from his mouth without regard. It was almost as if his mind, wishing for so long to be rid of Elizabeth had come to a decision and said the very things he knew might make her image leave him.

  “Do not write back. If she comes, you must act surprised at her appearance as if you did not receive the letter. Do all you can to make it clear that you wish to cut the acquaintance.” He still looked at Elizabeth, seeing her outrage and angry tears. With shame, he pulled his eyes away.

  “No, no, no!” she cried.

  He closed his eyes briefly to gain control and, upon opening
his eyes, allowed himself to see her once more — to take in her beauty, brilliance and look of betrayal before adding the final nail to the coffin of this insanity. “And say nothing of this to Bingley. He must not know she is in town.”

  * * *

  “Papa, Papa! Come quickly, it is Lizzy! I fear something is wrong with her!” Kitty exclaimed in such animated tones that her alarm quickly reached the ears of the entire household.

  With everyone converging on her at once, she lowered her head in embarrassment. She never liked when the attention was solely on her, and that was why she usually enjoyed spending her time in Lydia’s shadow.

  “Well, what is it, child?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed, even as all her sisters, her father and even Mrs. Hill began rushing towards her, their bodies propelling her along with them towards the stairs.

  “I...I was just reading to Lizzy, when . . . ” Kitty stammered in embarrassment. Her affections for her sister not always displayed made it difficult to admit to having spent time with Lizzy. Indeed, her cheeks flushed with the acknowledgement of her tender emotions.

  The group en masse continued their hurried ascent up the stairs towards Elizabeth’s bedchamber. When the door flew open, the household poured in. Silence fell upon them all.

  Jane, reaching for Elizabeth’s hand, looked back at her father. “Her heart is racing, Papa.”

  Concern and worry engulfed everyone as Mr. Bennet knelt at the bedside to place his hand at Elizabeth’s cheek. Her face was flushed, and he felt that indeed, her pulse was fast and profound. Turning towards Kitty, he said, “Kitty, child, what is it that happened?”

  Kitty looked at her sister’s still form and bit her lip. She walked carefully to her father’s side as if in a daze as she remembered the startling moment just minutes ago. “I was reading to her, sir.” Swallowing emotion, she continued with difficulty and said, “And she became restless. She was tossing back and forth — oh, it was so frightening! I tried to calm her, to talk to her as Mr. Jones said, but she would not respond to me. And then she stilled and spoke quite forcefully. She yelled, ‘No, No! No!’ I was scared, and then I called for you.” Kitty dissolved into tears, fearful that her attempts to help Lizzy had made her worse. Everyone then returned their eyes to the injured sister who was no longer moving or speaking but deathly still and fearfully quiet.