Haunting Mr. Darcy

by KaraLynne Mackrory

  She sat shakily upon the sill again and attempted to gather her thoughts. Warmth settled upon her like a blanket as she replayed the gentleman’s praise in her mind. Though shocking as it was, Elizabeth clung to that warmth, as it was the only thing that seemed to bring life to her heart since she woke. It was quite some time before she allowed her mind to dwell on anything else.

  * * *

  Down the path, Darcy was pulled from his pleasant ruminations by the firm grasp of his cousin’s hand upon his arm.

  “Darcy! For goodness sake man, wake up!”

  Darcy frowned at his cousin and said tersely, “What are you upset about Richard?”

  Colonel Fitzwilliam looked almost close to apoplexy. “Pardon me, Cousin, but were we in the same parlor just now? You hardly spoke to the lady, and I begin to wonder how it was that you managed to make her fall in love with you in the first place if this is the extent of your romantic abilities.”

  Darcy smiled then, infuriating his cousin further. What began as a small chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh as he patted his companion’s back and began walking with great strides towards Rosings again. “I assure you, Richard, I am fully capable of wooing the lady.” At Pemberley, once he committed to go to Elizabeth, Darcy had thought seriously about how he might make her love him, effectively erasing his previous insecurities.

  “You will, of course, forgive me if I have my doubts, Darcy,” Richard said as he caught up.

  “Today I was simply overwhelmed by the pleasure of seeing her again.”

  “Then how are you to win her heart, sir?”

  Darcy stopped and looked at his cousin with bright eyes. “Come now, Richard, you do not expect me to give away all my secrets?”

  By way of response, Darcy was given only a grunt and a shake of the head. Together they continued down the path. Darcy asked his cousin what he thought of Elizabeth, and the rest of the journey was spent in pleasurable conversation as the two enumerated her manifold attractions.

  * * *

  More than once did Elizabeth, in her ramble within the Park, unexpectedly meet Mr. Darcy. She felt all the perverseness of the mischance that should bring him where no one else was brought. Conscious that the compliment of overhearing herself complimented was affecting her rather more than it ought, in the hopes of its happening again, she took care to inform him that it was a favorite haunt of hers. When it happened again thereafter, she hid a secret smile and felt a little guilty for her better knowledge.

  Though she did not mind his company, she knew her perspective on it had been altered positively by knowing, as she did, that his opinion of her tolerability had changed. This little proof of vanity on her part could not make her completely comfortable with her machinations either, but her motives for seeking Darcy’s company ran deeper than just vanity.

  Although she would admit it to nobody, her gratification in his company was also a private one. With him she often felt calmed, with less of that listlessness she had known in Hertfordshire, and though she did not understand why, she felt almost as if theirs was an acquaintance of longer standing than it was. She felt safe. With him, she began to feel a sense of peace that had been missing, and with him her world was reborn. Coming to Kent had been her father’s idea, and in the first few weeks here, she felt an increase of her spirits, but it was not until she began spending a meaningful amount of time with Darcy that she felt any real improvement.

  For the gentleman’s part, he was simply pleased beyond measure to be in her company whenever the blessing could be brought about. The edicts of propriety were against him this time, for any chance with her was limited to a daily walk or call upon the parsonage. Occasionally, his aunt would invite the party from Hunsford to tea or dinner, and he would see her then. On those occasions, he would have to be more circumspect in his discussions with her so as not to draw the attention of his aunt. Colonel Fitzwilliam served as a distraction during these evenings and often went with him to the parsonage to play the same role with Mrs. Collins.

  His avowed plan was to see whether he might get her to fall in love with him, and his strategy was to remind her bit by bit of their time together by talking of the subjects they had shared before. He hoped to spark some kind of recognition in her, and at times he knew that words he spoke affected her rather strongly, for her eyes would become unfocused and her hand would drift gently to touch the side of her head where she had been hurt.

  Though he could not exactly know whether he was successful, and at times found the process torturously slow in bearing fruit, he was gratified that, as the weeks passed, she came often to look forward to his visits. It warmed his heart beyond measure to see her eyes light with happiness upon his approach in the grove or to see that her smile was directed at him when he called upon the parsonage.

  Once Darcy called upon the parsonage. When the door opened, to his very great surprise, Miss Elizabeth — and Miss Elizabeth only — occupied the room. He was astonished to find her alone and apologized for his intrusion by letting her know that he had understood all the ladies to be within. Secretly, he was gratified for this little blessing. They then sat down, and when her enquiries after Rosings were made, they seemed in danger of sinking into total silence. Darcy found himself, due to the surprise of being alone with her, again transfixed with her beauty and at first did not notice the growing awkwardness of their silence.

  “Shall I call for some tea, sir?” Elizabeth’s quiet voice awoke Darcy from his trance.

  “I should not like to trouble you,” he said automatically.

  Elizabeth stood and went to pull the bell, summoning the tea, all the while assuring him in her gentle voice that she was just about to have some refreshment herself and he might stay to share it with her.

  When the tray came, Darcy’s eyes lit upon seeing that the maid had brought coffee as well as tea. He thought at first that Elizabeth was remembering his preferences. When she asked which beverage he would favor, he was momentarily disheartened. His dismay lasted only until she had poured him a cup and then poured herself the same refreshment.

  “I did not think you liked the taste of coffee,” he said immediately.

  This seemed to startle her, and he realized that it would be odd for him to know this about her. Though perhaps a bit confused, she answered him with only the slightest shake to her voice. “I . . . I have developed a taste for it, I suppose.”

  “Since when?” Darcy spoke quickly, his heart beginning to beat rapidly.

  Elizabeth met his gaze and, though she felt a little embarrassed to be sharing any of the strange changes about her since waking, answered him honestly. “Since I woke from my injuries, sir.”

  Darcy smiled brilliantly at her, and at first, he could see she was stunned by it. Shyly, she returned a small smile of her own, wondering at the strange flicker of something she saw in his eyes.

  Elizabeth looked away first and resumed preparing her coffee the way she liked. Her head bowed, she could not see the smile her companion wore as he watched her stir several lumps of sugar into the brew. If she had encountered his eye, she might have seen how well the expression of heartfelt delight, diffused over his face, became him.

  “And how are you, Eli — Miss Elizabeth, since your accident?” Darcy asked, his love for her gentling his voice.

  Elizabeth placed her cup in its saucer and smoothed the edges of the napkin next to it. Though in truth, she knew little about Darcy, she had come to trust him, and his company did bring her comfort. “I have been well, thank you. I . . . ”

  She looked up and saw kindness in his eyes, not the worry she had expected to see or was used to from her family. She continued then, devoid of her usual embarrassment. “I have felt a little strange, to be truthful.” She laughed half-heartedly. “You were correct; I did not always favor coffee. Some things feel different now.”

  Darcy nodded, contented at her candidness and pleased that she felt comfortable sharing this with him. “Such significant events do often change u
s.”

  He could see that his words had made her happy, and he thought she seemed a little more at ease the rest of the visit.

  * * *

  On a particularly warm spring morning, Darcy found Elizabeth walking the groves again, just as he had hoped. She spied him and waited with a smile as he joined her.

  She eyed the parcel in his arms with an amused smile, wondering what he had planned for that day. Their unspoken arrangement to walk the groves each day was exciting and much anticipated for Elizabeth but partially because she came to expect some sort of surprise from the gentleman. On one day, he had brought her a handkerchief full of lemon tarts from Rosings. A few other times, he had brought books with him. The strangest by far had been when he had brought a fencing foil with him, wondering whether she might be interested to see it. His claim that it had just been purchased seemed peculiar, for even her inexperienced eye could see that it was much too small for his stature and meant to fit a smaller student, a young boy just learning the art perhaps.

  Though interested in the piece, she was careful to keep her interest to the degree appropriate for a lady and kept her tone neutral. It confused her then to see in his eyes some expectancy that she did not know how to fulfill.

  “What do you have there, Mr. Darcy? Another of your treasures to share with me?”

  Darcy bowed, and when he looked again at her, she felt a shock fly through her. His gaze was steadfast and immovable and it made her insides twist unexpectedly with pleasure.

  “Indeed, I have brought along with me today a chess set. I thought we might play a game or two.”

  “What? Here in the park?” Elizabeth looked about with a laugh.

  Darcy looked down at the blanket in his arms, wrapped around the travel chess set. Color infused his cheeks as he felt slightly embarrassed by his forwardness; nevertheless, he answered, “I know of a small clearing, not far from here. Would you permit me to take you there?”

  Elizabeth smiled and indicated he should lead the way. Her heart hammered at the thought of being alone with Darcy, alone in the way of a secluded glen.

  Darcy offered his free arm to her, and she took it, color infusing her cheeks. He escorted her down a smaller path she had not previously noticed, and true to his word, a moment later the trees opened to a little clearing, just beginning to bloom with spring wildflowers.

  “Oh what a beautiful little secret Eden,” Elizabeth declared as she let go of his arm. She turned about in the soft grass of the clearing, bending to brush her hands across a few of the flowers peeking up above the green carpet of earth.

  “I am pleased you like it. I used to hide here as a boy with Colonel Fitzwilliam and his brother. We played pirates and other such games.”

  “And were there never any maidens to rescue?” Elizabeth asked with a laugh.

  “Not until now.”

  Unable to say anything at first, she watched him spread the blanket and sat when he set up the chessboard.

  “How do you know, Mr. Darcy, that I even know how to play? It is not exactly one of the accomplishments usually taught to young ladies.”

  She watched him seem to stammer, undecided as to what to say. She took pity on him then and tapped a gloved hand on his bent knee.

  “It so happens, sir that my seminary consisted of my father as teacher, and I have, indeed, learned to play the game. Shall we?”

  Elizabeth looked at him and saw his gaze was fixed upon the light pressure of her fingers on his knee. Quickly she pulled back her hand, embarrassed to have been so forward and appalled that she should not have given it a thought before noticing his distraction.

  He looked at her then, and though she wished she could hide her own eyes beneath her hands, she met his gaze. There was a powerful secret he kept in his eyes. She saw it, and she was drawn closer, as if she could read it — understand it, if only she could see it better. Unconsciously, she allowed herself to lean towards him, mesmerized by that secret within. The gentleman lifted his hand as if to touch her cheek, to guide her closer.

  A warbler’s call snapped the tenuous thread pulling them together, and they both sat back, warmth imbuing their cheeks, and emotion choking any words. Elizabeth pulled at the ties of her bonnet, suddenly finding it excessively tight. She looked down at her lap, and she was grateful that the choking head covering was at least useful at hiding her blush. She did not know what had just happened and dared not think what might have, had not the bird sounded its call.

  She heard her companion clear his throat, and with a little more gravel to his voice than was perhaps usual for him, he softly said, “Shall we play, Miss Elizabeth?”

  She nodded and, when he indicated she should go first, made her move. Their game began at first with heavy silence as neither player attended more to their strategies than they did to the emotions whirling within them. But soon the morning and game progressed, and they regained their normal ease.

  As Darcy packed away the pieces of the chess set, his fingers paused with the last one. Elizabeth watched him play with it nervously, finding him at that moment, much to her surprise, utterly adorable.

  “Miss Elizabeth?” Darcy finally spoke, looking up at where she stood. He was crouched on his knee to gather the blanket and game.

  Elizabeth swallowed, seeing him kneeling before her and knowing in her heart that she was quite in danger of falling in love with him. She forced herself to meet his gaze and raised her brow by way of response since her throat was too thick to speak.

  Darcy stood, bringing himself before her. He looked at her with open tenderness. “Will you walk with me tomorrow?”

  Elizabeth bent her head, unable to encounter his eye. Her heart raced, the knowledge that this was the first time he had so openly asked for her company the cause of its increasing tempo. They had met often, almost daily, but always under the guise of accident.

  “I would like that,” she whispered, finally meeting his eyes.

  Darcy smiled and expressed his gratitude with a nod. He led her out of the grove and back to the parsonage. Slowly, as their visits grew in frequency, their familiarity with each other grew like the spring about them, to be like unto when they were together in London. Darcy was nearing the point where he felt he ought to say something to her of his feelings, if indeed they were not already altogether obvious.

  * * *

  Again, as she was walking in the grove in secret hopes of seeing Darcy, Elizabeth contemplated their time together over the past couple of weeks. She was at times confused by her feelings with regards to that gentleman. She knew her heart was in some danger of falling in love with Mr. Darcy (if indeed it was not already), and yet she also felt a sort of disloyalty to the mystery gentleman who flashed through her mind. During the day when she was with Darcy, she felt elated for such attentions, conscious of the compliment from such a gentleman of his standing. Indeed, she had her doubts that a man of his sphere would even consider someone from hers. Elizabeth found that he was everything charming and, although not as conversant as his cousin or Mr. Bingley, had a pleasantness about his lips when he spoke, and the low rumble of his voice often mesmerized her. She noticed he was altered from the way he used to be in Hertfordshire, though Elizabeth came to understand the difference amounted mostly to reserve. Indeed, Mr. Darcy definitely improved upon further acquaintance.

  During the day, Elizabeth’s thoughts were saved for Mr. Darcy, but the nights were for a different gentleman. Dreams of the retreating form of the unknown gentleman-specter as she followed him through a beautiful house disturbed her sleep. The frequency of the dreams matched that of her time with Darcy during the day. Every night she wished that shadowy gentleman might turn around so she could see his face. If her waking hours were becoming devoted to Mr. Darcy, her nightly hours were certainly for the other.

  Whatever or whoever he was, she knew he also held some property of her heart, for she felt the same feelings of peace and contentment during her dreams as she did while walking side by side with Mr. Darc
y. Indeed, as the weeks in Kent passed and her acquaintance with Darcy became more intimate, she felt this tug at her heart that she could only credit to worry that she was somehow being unfair to one gentleman over the other.

  Elizabeth heard footsteps behind her, drawing her out of her thoughts. She smiled to herself as she recognized the cadence of Mr. Darcy’s strides against the gravel walk. She stopped to allow him to reach her side and curtseyed when he did.

  “Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” he said over a bow as he pulled her gloved hand to his lips.

  Elizabeth flushed, smiled prettily and attempted to be composed despite the riot within. As their familiarity with each other grew, so did the warmth in Mr. Darcy’s eyes and expressions. Elizabeth looked at his hands, noted he wore no gloves for some reason and wondered what it might feel like to have him touch her without the barrier of fabric, his or hers. Cheeks bright, Elizabeth shook her head slightly to dispel the thought and replied, “Good morning, sir.”

  “You looked as if you were deep in thought when I came upon you just now. I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “You certainly do,” she replied with a smile. “But it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome.”

  Together they resumed walking, and Darcy, ever conscious of Elizabeth beside him, looked at her to see her gaze was again faraway. “Might I enquire what it is that you contemplate so seriously this morning, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “Spring, sir,” Elizabeth said to him with a sparkle in her eye.

  Darcy smiled in return, though he raised a brow in question.

  “I was just thinking about how marvelous it is that the ground, the bushes and the trees come to life in the spring.”

  “It is quite beautiful,” he said not fully understanding the marvel in it that she did but enjoying the beauty the subject rendered her expression.

  “After many months of winter, the spring comes and, with it, all the plants — slumbering for so many months — remember their true purpose and come to life.”