Inspired Reflections

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Jane Austen Quote: 'Miss Bingley immediately fixed her eyes on his face, and desired he would tell her what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections. Mr. Darcy replied with great intrepidity: "Miss Elizabeth Bennet."' (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6)

Chapter 1

Jane Austen Quote: '…he scarcely spoke ten words to her through the whole of Saturday, though they were at one time left by themselves for half-an-hour, he adhered most conscientiously to his book, and would not even look at her.' (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 12)

Elizabeth Bennet was disgusted with Mr. Darcy. That high and mighty gentleman had not seen fit to acknowledge her presence in the Netherfield library. When she had entered the room, he had pretended to read, never looking up from his book even once. Now almost thirty minutes later, he still had his head down, refusing to give her the slightest notice. No matter – that suited her perfectly well.

In the past month since he had come to live at Netherfield Park, he had made his feelings about her abundantly clear; she was not handsome enough to tempt him. Ha! As if she wished to tempt a scowling, ill-tempered man.

Unfortunately she and her sister Jane had been obliged to stay at the neighbouring estate while Jane recovered from a sudden illness. Being in the same house with Mr. Darcy had proven quite disconcerting over the past four days. She found his disapproving glances and superior attitude unsettling. What had she done to evoke his scorn? Did he find her too outspoken? Had she offended him in some way?

Whatever the reason for his churlishness, for the sake of civility, he might at least say hello or nod his head. But no — he had chosen to ignore her almost entirely. Insufferable man! What the lady of the house saw in him was beyond her understanding. Certainly Elizabeth had no desire to gain that particular gentleman's notice. Miss Bingley, however, had made no secret of her desire for a match with him; fawning over him and complimenting him at every opportunity. Elizabeth could not deny that he was extraordinarily handsome and blessed with immense wealth, but she could not fathom why any woman would aspire to spend the rest her life with such a cold fish.

Thank the heavens she and Jane would return home in the morning and that would be the end of the acquaintance.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was suffering through possibly the most boring book in the Netherfield library. He had chosen the volume on modern shepherding, in the hope of diverting his attention from a certain fair guest in the house. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, with her fine eyes, chestnut curls and pleasing form, was staying at Netherfield and it was driving him to distraction; he had found himself spending an excessive amount of time admiring her. Indeed, she was lovely in every respect, except of course for her inferior circumstances. It would be far better if they were not in company too often or heaven only knew what would become of him. Falling for a lady of meagre fortune was not in his plans. No—he would find a lovely heiress and after a suitable courtship, would offer his hand and set up his nursery. Fitzwilliam Darcy would not deviate from the plan just because a pretty country miss had turned his head.

As it was, he was only in Hertfordshire for a short time. Charles Bingley had invited him to stay at his new property and, as the owner of a large estate of his own, Darcy had plenty of advice to offer his closest friend. They had already been in residence for a month; were it not for the presence of two marriageable young ladies, one unpleasant and one quite alluring, he would have enjoyed the respite immensely.

Charles's younger sister Caroline was a calculating social-climber who frequently imposed on his notice. Even if she were not a tradesman's daughter, he would never consider her as a suitable match; her imperious nature was abhorrent.

Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, was an enchantress.

Feeding, shearing, lambing, diseases, predators, and herding dogs; the topic was so dull he struggled to keep his eyes open. Worse, he possessed extensive knowledge of the subject already, and yet he persevered, determined to keep his mind engaged. Anything was better than envisioning the bewitching lady and her mesmerizing eyes.

Unfortunately, Miss Elizabeth decided to make an appearance, plopping herself into his lap in a most unmaidenly-like manner.

"Why do you stare at me, Mr. Darcy?" she inquired, her eyes lovelier than ever.

He dared not touch her. "This is highly inappropriate, Miss Elizabeth. Do you intend to force my hand?" he inquired. It would not be the first time a young lady had attempted to place him in a compromising position.

She straightened his cravat, though he was quite certain it required no adjustment. "You need not fear me, Mr. Darcy. I have no designs on you and besides, no one is about."

His gaze shot to the door. No sound came from the hallway but he did fear being discovered alone with her. "I insist that you remove yourself this instant." If anyone were to see them, her father would no doubt insist on an immediate betrothal. His plan of finding a well-connected heiress would be all for naught.

"Do you never smile?"

Her fine eyes had been the first thing he had noticed about her; now he was taken aback by their mischievous twinkle. "I have been known to smile once or twice in my life."

"I have yet to witness it." She shook her head and frowned. "And why do you avoid me?"

He wished she would not wiggle quite so much in his lap. Being this close to her was more temptation than he might withstand. "I am having trouble avoiding you at the moment."

"Yes, I have imposed myself on your notice, have I not?" she said with an impish giggle.

Since that was rather an understatement, he made no reply.

"Do you disapprove of my impertinence? Or is it my tendency to wilfully misunderstand that offends you?"

He could not help smiling at her cheekiness. "That is to say nothing of the wild manner you are used to at home," he said, repeating a comment her mother had made when she had come to call two days before.

She lowered her lashes but offered a smirk. "Yes, my faults are too numerous to mention."

It was impossible to be offended by her sweet, playful demeanour and, to his surprise, he was able to relax. "But you play piano-forte and sing quite well, and you are a gentleman's daughter."

"That is true, I suppose. So you should have little reason to dislike me."

"Oh no, I do not dislike you in the least."

She released a great sigh. "I am relieved, Mr. Darcy. Now we can be comfortable with each other."

She reached up as if to kiss his cheek but he recoiled at the scent of her breath. What on earth was that smell?

"Petunia!"

Suddenly jolted to his senses, he opened his eyes to discover Caroline's little dog liberally spreading liver-scented saliva on his chin. He must have dozed off; he had no idea that the creature had jumped into his lap.

"You naughty doggie! Come away this instant!" An apologetic maid scurried in and out again, leaving Darcy alone and rather perplexed.

He retrieved his handkerchief from his pocket. That was disappointing—he thought, as he wiped the foul slobber from his chin. He would have much rather had a lovely young lady's company instead. Though if he was being practical, he must admit that compromise was not the best way to gain a wife. He had at least avoided that misfortune.

Even more disturbing was that the lady in question had entered his senses more than he had realized. Yes, he would have to take particular care while they resided under the same roof. There could be no hint of his attraction, ill-advised as it was.

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