Haunting Mr. Darcy

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  “Tsk, tsk,” Elizabeth laughed. “You are still insisting on referring to me formally, I see. I might remind you, sir, that you are the one who first suggested that I call you by your given name.”

  “Even still, you might allow me this one concession to what is proper,” he challenged.

  Elizabeth smiled wickedly at him.

  Darcy’s low chuckle sent a thrill through her spine. She attempted to look serious, but could not keep a smile from pulling at the edges of her lips.

  “I should think that you would know by now that I have ways of punishing you.”

  Darcy crossed his arms, amused at her play of strength. “I am not afraid of you.”

  Seeing that he clearly did not believe her, she raised one hand and daintily waved a little goodbye to him as she allowed herself to acknowledge the softness of the red velvet carriage seat, the strength of the springs beneath and came to rest against the sturdy wood at the bottom – effectively disappearing from his view as she sunk into the structure of the carriage seat.

  “Touché.” Darcy laughed. “You fight valiantly, Miss Bennet, if a little devilishly.”

  The disembodied voice of Elizabeth came to his ears through the empty cushion before him. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy.”

  The gentleman shook his head and looked out the window, amazed at her ability to pluck at him in ways no other lady had before. She could intrigue and delight him in one moment and vex him like no other in the next. Even now, he found her intellect admirable and her humor alluring, even while he felt like grinding his teeth at her stubbornness.

  After another minute, delaying just enough to make her worry, he leaned forward and tenderly called her name. “Elizabeth.”

  His smile grew, displaying the dimples, while he watched, enchanted as she emerged gracefully through the cushion with a slight pinkness to her cheeks. At first, she would not meet his eyes, and her modesty charmed him further.

  Darcy shifted and changed seats so that he was positioned next to her. He looked down and with a grin about his lips, leaned in to speak near her ear. “So what is your plan, Elizabeth? How are we to get you back together with your body?”

  Elizabeth snickered. “What makes you think I have a plan, William?’

  Darcy leaned back in the seat and crossing his ankles on the seat opposite in a casual manner, laughed as he said, “Come now, my dear. The Elizabeth I know would have worked something out. Tell me, what role am I to have?”

  Elizabeth then looked up at him and, with a smile, acknowledged that she indeed did have some ideas. Most of the rest of the carriage ride was spent in huddled conference, carefully considering and discussing their options. Elizabeth assumed her body was in her own room. This necessitated some strategizing, for Darcy would have to get within ten paces of the bed.

  “It might not be necessary after all, Elizabeth.”

  “Of course it is. You know that I am unable to venture far from you.”

  “But have you considered that perhaps coming home to Longbourn might release you from this bond we have?” Darcy asked. It was something that had just occurred to him while they discussed their scheme. He was not surprised to find he did not like the chance of that at all.

  Elizabeth shrugged, unconcerned. “I doubt very much that Longbourn will have much effect on the bond at all.”

  Darcy frowned, intrigued at her confidence. “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because Fate has destined us to be together.”

  Her words were so casually said and with such a frankness that they at once set Darcy’s heart speeding and pounding out of his chest. “I would have to agree. Though would you care to share with me how you came to such a conclusion?”

  Elizabeth could no longer feign nonchalance, and a blush began to spread from her neck to her hairline. She smoothed her dress with one hand and quietly spoke. “It is just a theory, mind you, but there are several instances that point to that conclusion.”

  Darcy could hardly breathe for listening to her words. “Go on.”

  “Well first, before the accident happened, I recall informing Jane that it was my New Year’s wish to see you want something you could not have. I have seen something of that in your eyes when you attempt to touch me but cannot.” She paused; her cheeks flamed further. Though she did not look up to see, his colored as well. Shakily, she began again. “And when the accident occurred, whatever force that caused me to separate from my body placed this part of me, where else, but in your library, tethered by some magical force to you alone. Adding to this, you alone can see or hear me . . . ”

  “Fascinating conclusion,” Darcy said simply. His feelings were warmed to the point that he could say little else. A man who felt less might have said more. For so long he had cared for her, admired her from afar, and despite foolishly trying to fight his feelings, she had come to him and forced him to acknowledge them. He did not deserve such good fortune.

  As if she could read his mind, she said, “And my memory of the accident, thus my way of knowing how to get back to my true state, came only after I had acknowledged to myself that I loved you and was triggered distinctly by your declaration of love for me.”

  “You regained your memory just after I told you I loved you,” Darcy repeated, spellbound.

  Elizabeth nodded. “I believe I was in the middle before I knew it had begun, though I felt it coming on all the while you told Colonel Fitzwilliam of your feelings for me. I have thought of this since, and the only conclusion that makes sense to me is that Fate has intervened to bring us together.”

  Darcy was silent for a while, contemplating her words. He knew but would not say that, if she had not come to his library that evening, he might never have sought her out again. He probably even would have continued to attempt to forget her. Whether or not he would have been successful would never be known. Perhaps they might have met again somewhere, and if that were to have happened, Darcy acknowledged that he would have been just as vulnerable to her as he had been upon discovering her in his library. He thought about her confession regarding her New Year’s Eve wish, and he was grateful to have been given the chance to change her opinion of him. That wish was proof enough that she thought meanly of him before. He marveled at her now, sitting beside him and talking of love and Fate. Darcy knew he owed a great deal to whatever force was responsible — God, Fate, magic — for bringing them together.

  Thinking of her wish reminded him of his own New Year’s wish. He had wished to see her again, and that also had been granted.

  His reply came almost too quietly for her to catch, “And I made a wish to see you again.”

  After a full minute contemplating her astounding conclusion, he turned to her and, with marvel in his voice, said, “I believe you have the right of it, Elizabeth. How have I been so fortunate to have secured your favor? I believe that, between the two of us, you have gotten the sham deal.”

  Elizabeth shook her head with good humor. “I do not quite know about that.”

  “How shall I make it up to you then, my dear?”

  “Help me get by body back, and we can discuss that.”

  “Gladly!” Darcy said as he bent his head towards hers to discuss their plans until the carriage wheels rolled to a stop in front of Netherfield Park.

  Chapter 15

  Jane gingerly knocked on her father’s door as she opened it slowly. Peeking in, she found him at his chair by the fire. He smiled at her and lowered his book, taking off his glasses in the same practiced movement.

  “Dear Jane, have you come to visit with your old father?”

  “May I have a few minutes of your time, sir?”

  Mr. Bennet smiled kindly at his eldest daughter and, in a gesture of exaggerated welcome, encouraged her to come in. It never failed to amuse him that she always asked whether he had a moment to spare for her. He had never denied her, and yet she always asked. It warmed his heart that Jane was such a gentle soul, never assuming and quietly content in her life. She was so differen
t from his second daughter, and their differences were contributing elements to that love that, as a father of two such lovely ladies, he possessed in abundance. The comparison to his Lizzy brought a cloudiness to his eyes as he thought about her lying in her chamber. Though he felt confident that she would recover, the lengthy time was beginning to disquiet even him.

  Jane walked gracefully into the room and took up the seat opposite him. He watched her fingers worry an errant thread on the shawl that was draped about her shoulders. After several minutes, it was apparent Jane wished to speak, but perhaps not knowing how to proceed, he ventured to put her at ease.

  “Come now, dear girl. Tell your father what it is that troubles you so.” He bent his neck a little to catch her downturned head and encouraged her with a kind smile. “You may speak freely with me, as you always have.”

  Jane returned her father’s smile, her blue eyes pure and clear. “That is true, Papa; however, I do not believe we have as of yet had any discourses on the topic heavy on my heart today.”

  Mr. Bennet sat back, surprised by her words and yet concerned by her confession regarding the topic. He had his suspicions, and it was one he knew would be difficult for any father.

  “Your heart is troubled, Poppet, is it not? Well, that is a serious matter, to be sure — one that requires fortifying.”

  Mr. Bennet stood then and went to a chest near his desk, took out a key, and opening the wood paneled door, pulled out a lovely square tin. He turned around and gazed at his daughter; with a twinkle in his eyes, he put a finger to his lips to warn her to keep quiet.

  “Should your mother gain knowledge of this little tin, there will be the end of it, no doubt.” He placed the tin on his daughter’s lap and laughed quietly at her puzzled expression. “Go on, open it, child, but save a few morsels for me. Matters of the heart, especially those of my daughters, affect this old man as well.”

  Jane smiled with humor at her father and bent to lift the lid of the tin. Inside she found an array of the most delicious looking chocolates. Her smile broadened as she looked up in amusement at his merry eyes. “Indeed, mother must not find out about these.”

  She selected one for herself and handed the tin to her father who also took one. For a minute, they savored the sweet melting delights in silence. Jane was warmed by his kind gesture, his attempt at reducing her anxiety having some success, for she felt fortified enough to begin.

  With a nervous laugh, she said, “I would normally speak of these things with Lizzy; however . . . ” She met the eyes of her father, acknowledging their mirrored sadness before she continued. “Perhaps, though, you might advise me. You see I know not what to think or feel about Mr. Bingley’s return.”

  Jane blushed pink, and her father rubbed his jaw.

  “Ahh, indeed, a matter best discussed with your dear sister, but alas I shall not let you down.” Mr. Bennet’s attempt to appear unaffected by the topic was nearly successful, and that which his daughter detected only endeared him to her further.

  “It is most puzzling, for I know not how, in what manner, I shall act around him. He has called now twice, and each time he has been most attentive, and yet I fear at any minute that his attentions along with his presence in the neighborhood might again end as abruptly as they did a few months ago.”

  Mr. Bennet’s jaw clenched; a surge of protective feelings wrapped their fingers around his heart. “Perhaps I ought to speak to the gentleman.”

  “No!” Jane spoke with energy, then collecting herself quickly, returned to her usual gentle tone. “That is, I thank you; however, I would not wish for you to do that, sir.”

  “And why is that, Poppet? I assure you that, with one brief interview with me, we shall know of the gentleman’s intentions in returning to the neighborhood.”

  “Papa,” Jane cajoled her father, noting the softening of his features as she addressed him. “When I sought your counsel, I wished for the ease of a friend, not the protection of a father.”

  It was difficult, but Mr. Bennet acknowledged her words and attempted to restrain his impulses. He listened to her speak of her warm affection, nay love, for the gentleman next. Her revelation was not a surprise, though it did add to his burden of trying to keep his fatherly instincts at bay. Possibly sensing Mr. Bennet’s tenuous hold on his natural reactions, she only shared briefly the feelings she felt upon Bingley’s previously leaving the neighborhood.

  “I fear that I have not ceased to love him at all during this separation. And while I am sure that the business that called him away before must have been important, I do not know whether I have it in me this time to see him leave again.”

  “Has he indicated to you that he has plans to quit the neighborhood again?”

  “On the contrary, he has made it very clear on several occasions that he means to stay in the county for some duration of time.”

  Mr. Bennet was silent for a minute, contemplating his daughter’s words. He took up another chocolate, using it as an excuse to stay quiet as he sorted out in his mind that which he wished to impart to her. Although he understood her wish for him not to interfere with the gentleman, sensing that it would embarrass her, he also knew that the uncertainty was what was most distressing to her. Considering the delicate topic, normally applied to with ease to Lizzy, Mr. Bennet wondered whether that daughter’s plight might also be holding Jane back.

  “Tell me this, dear one. Let us just say that Mr. Bingley comes to call on you again on the morrow.” Jane blushed at the thought, pleasure easily read on her features and also confirming to her father a fair bit more of the state of the matter. “And while he calls upon you, he happens to request your hand.” Here he paused only briefly noting the silent gasp and brightened cheeks of his daughter. “What shall you say to the gentleman?”

  Jane looked up through her lashes, a tender smile about her lips. “I should very much like to say ‘yes.’”

  He smiled too but, noting a hesitation in her words, questioned her. “However . . . ?”

  The lady noted his keen observation with a nod of her head. “However, I would not wish to be so happy when Lizzy is yet so . . . when her health is yet in such an uncertain state.”

  Mr. Bennet nodded, that worried grief filling him again. He leaned back in his chair and lifted his eyes to the ceiling as he thought. “I wonder, however, whether Lizzy would feel the same way.”

  “I beg your pardon.”

  Mr. Bennet then leaned forward and, securing his daughter’s hand in his, looked thoughtfully at it. “We both know Lizzy would wish for you to be happy, and although I do not like to acknowledge it, there may be the chance that our dear Lizzy does not return to us.”

  His voice broke towards the end, and Jane’s eyes filled with tears for her sister.

  Mr. Bennet cleared his throat after a moment and, determining to counsel Jane in such a way that Lizzy would approve — despite his own instinctual wish to lock all his daughters up in towers, away from any gentlemen callers — thus continued, “I would advise you, Jane, to be resolved to act in that manner, which will, in your own opinion, constitute your happiness without reference to Lizzy or to any other person.”

  Before she could voice her protest, disregarding herself in her usual manner, he concluded resolutely, “And with one last note, I shall end my speech so that we might enjoy a few more of these chocolates before we are discovered. Your description of Mr. Bingley’s visits thus far have made me believe that you are in very great danger of making him as much in love with you as ever.”

  * * *

  Darcy turned to await Elizabeth’s descent from the carriage before beginning up the stairs to the entrance of Netherfield. Glancing at his unseen companion, he noted her heightened color and excited eyes, and his admiration grew still further in that instant. His private reverie was interrupted when he heard his friend’s voice. Darcy looked up to see Bingley bound down the stairs to meet him.

  “Welcome, Darcy. I am glad to see you have come.”

&n
bsp; “I believe it would have been impossible not to, Charles,” Darcy said pleasantly, as he again glanced to Elizabeth at his side. She smiled brightly at him, and he watched enchanted as she bounced slightly on her toes in excitement.

  Darcy returned his eyes to his friend, a smile still about his lips from watching Elizabeth. Bingley frowned at him and looked puzzled, but Darcy’s spirits were too high to wonder.

  “Shall we go in, or am I to expect to make up a camp outside. It is my cousin that is the soldier, Bingley, not I,” Darcy said with a chuckle and a friendly pat on his friend’s back. Darcy resumed his ascent up the stairs when Bingley numbly raised a hand to indicate he should continue. His friend’s brows creased deeper.

  The gentlemen — and lady — continued up the stairs then until they were welcomed into the broad entrance hall. Elizabeth, like her traveling companion, was in high spirits as she considered how close she was to being whole again and, having had a pleasant journey, was now even refreshed enough to wish to move forward with their plan. Darcy, too, was jovial after enjoying his time with Elizabeth in the carriage. Her excitement and careful planning created in him a hope of their success that would soon make it possible for him to enjoy such pleasures as lifting her hand to his lips or touching the softness of her hair. The possibilities were numerous and endless in their ability to tempt or torment him.

  Elizabeth looked about her and sighed happily. “It is such a pleasure to be home, or nearly so.”

  “Indeed, it is good to be here.” There was only the slightest pause as Darcy remembered Bingley nearby — especially when his lady gestured toward the bewildered gentleman standing next to him. “Bingley. It is good to be here,” he added lamely.

  A quiet chuckle from the direction of the lady had a smile again pulling at Darcy’s lips for his near error.

  “Darcy . . . might I ask you to join me in the library.” Mr. Bingley’s voice was accented with wariness not typical to his usually carefree tone.

  “I suppose we cannot take our leave for Longbourn immediately upon reaching his threshold, can we, William?” Elizabeth said with amusement. “We ought to be gracious to our host.”