Before and After
Before Lizzie Bennet, William Darcy could be reliably counted on to be level-headed and concise. He was talented at being precise, logical, well-spoken, and measured.
Before Lizzie Bennet, there had been girls, albeit not many. Three, to be exact, and all of them perfectly lovely young women with impeccable taste and good families. Gigi was fond of telling him that they were more like business transactions than romantic relationships. They had all ended amicably after running their courses. He had very much enjoyed their company and twice had even believed himself to be in love.
Before Lizzie Bennet, he thought he had known what love was.
Meeting Lizzie at the Gibson wedding was not something he had planned to do. Attending the Gibson wedding at all was not something he had actually planned to do. In fact, staying at home to catch up on work, Skype with Gigi and re-read a classic novel were all things Darcy had been genuinely looking forward to. But Mrs. Gibson was a family friend, she had sent him an invitation, and Bing and Caroline knew exactly how to guilt him into going, and so go he did.
She isn't the flashiest girl in the room – Lydia Bennet in silver and green sequins takes that title. Nor is she necessarily the most breathtaking – the bride and Jane Bennet tie for that one. But for Darcy, she is undeniably the most alluring. Her dress is a deep purple, chiffon and strapless, and her hair is in an elaborate knot at the nape of her neck. She doesn't seem to be wearing much makeup beyond eyeliner and perhaps lip gloss, but Gigi once told him it takes a lot of makeup for a girl to appear like she is wearing little, and therefore on this point he cannot entirely be certain.
What he does know is that there is a cosmic shift inside of himself, one he doesn't know how to describe or define beyond that. This in itself frustrates him, and sets him on edge for the rest of the night. He dances with her, but all of the classes he had been sent to in middle school for ballroom dancing appeared to have been for naught; he can barely do anything more than sway slowly to the music. The next morning, when he is getting information pried out of him over the phone by Gigi, she tries gallantly and reassures him that swaying is dancing, but he knew the truth as soon as he had let go of her, and it had only served to further sour his mood. He is short, stiff, and carelessly saying callous things he doesn't quite mean to mask his discomfort for the rest of the evening, until Bing and Caroline finally agree to return to Netherfield.
The following week, at Carter's, he sees her again. In the corner with Caroline and her snark he is somewhat more relaxed, and allows himself to watch across the room as she gleefully enjoys herself, laughing with Charlotte and teasing Lydia. At one point he even feels brave enough to suggest a round of Just Dance, a game often played with Fitz, Gigi, and Brandon back in San Francisco. She turns him down very primly and rolls her eyes at Charlotte, whom he can hear snickering behind him. For the rest of the night he keeps his eyes glued to his phone, only allowing himself to sneak glances her way every so often.
Darcy is entranced by her during Bing's party not long after, but manages to say very little. He finds himself kicking himself for it, and his normally clear and organized mind gradually becomes more and more cluttered with thoughts of her as days pass.
He would later come to unconsciously categorize this time as "during" and in the back of his mind recognize that the majority of his discomfort throughout was a sign of something greater than social anxiety, but it certainly isn't clear to him at the time. Navigating his own disordered mind becomes a real challenge, one he had never before experienced.
One morning he is in the breakfast nook at Netherfield, eating whole wheat toast with orange juice and responding to work e-mails on his laptop. It is the first morning that he has felt like himself in weeks, and he settles comfortably into the familiar routine. Caroline breezes in past him, a coffee mug clamped tightly in one manicured hand and chatting loudly on her cell phone to Mr. and Mrs. Lee, across the country in their New York City townhouse. This is a regular occurrence and does nothing to strike a chord with Darcy, who felt happily insulated in the corner with his breakfast and his work.
"Yeah, apparently their house is getting remodeled or whatever… No, I don't know if they have a vacation home nearby. It's alright, though, isn't it? It's not as if we don't have the space… I know. Of course. …Oh absolutely, they're lovely, you'd like them a lot, Mom. ...I will, I'll let you know. Love you guys too."
At some point during this chatter, Bing must have entered, as Darcy looks up to find him sliding into the chair across from him. "Morning, man. By the way, Jane and Lizzie Bennet–" as if there are other Jane and Lizzies, as if there could be another Lizzie – "are staying with us for a few weeks while their house gets remodeled. They'll be here with their stuff tonight, I think. Just so you know." His open, cheerful face flashes a signature bright smile before digging into the big bowl of cereal in front of him. From the corner, nursing her coffee, Caroline's face is much more thoughtful and unreadable, not that Darcy is up for dissecting facial expressions at the moment, as his brain has kicked into overdrive. The best response he can muster is a curt nod.
After Lizzie Bennet arrives at Netherfield, Darcy can no longer deny his feelings for her; at least not to himself. Admitting them to anyone else takes time, and he will later wonder whether or not he should have run them by someone before he announces it to her. In the meantime, seeing her walk hesitantly into the cavernous foyer with her suitcase, trailing behind a glowing and graceful Jane, confirms his suspicions: the girl is captivating. She barely says more than two words to him before Caroline steals them away for a tour while he and Bing obligingly bring the Bennets' suitcases up to the guest bedrooms.
After Lizzie Bennet settles in to Netherfield, leaving what seems to be invisible chaos in her wake, Darcy often finds himself at a complete loss as to how to handle any of it. It's not that she's messy; both Bennets are shining examples of houseguests and carefully tidy up after themselves. Lizzie's mess is not a quantifiable one, but Darcy can sense her presence everywhere and nowhere in the house can he escape her – not that he particularly wants to.
After Lizzie Bennet leaves Netherfield, Darcy finds himself missing a scent he had never known before, an intoxicating and deceptively light blend of lavender, roses, and Dove soap. It is this loss more than almost any other that signals to him that he is in love and in far more trouble than he could ever have realized. A sense of loss based purely on emotion and yearning is not a feeling he is accustomed to; it's actually one that is completely foreign to him. She's not his sister or his family or his friends or his colleagues, someone who has a defined and recognizable place in his life, but she is someone he wants and needs very, very much nonetheless. It both confuses him and infuses him with a confidence that he has not known before.
After Lizzie Bennet, he returns to San Francisco, knowing he needs to see her once more. He doesn't know how or when, but he does know that his sense of time and the meaning of the words "before" and "after", of the idea of an era, will never be the same again.