Once again, I use my all-purpose excuse of this story being written at 4 am. The author had no sleep whatsoever, so please forgive the typos. Damn typos.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN PRIDE AND PREJUDICE.
Having been bestowed the honor (and more often than not, burden) of being the master of a grand estate, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, Derbyshire had duties–duties, which, if he were completely honest, were downright agonizing. His required presence at assemblies, for instance, in which he had encountered thousands of young women and their shameless attempts to court him, or rather, his fortune and standing in society. Not to mention their scheming mothers.
Meetings with Lady Catherine regarding the matters of her estate were also very tiresome. Every rational conversation he tried to engage her in almost always ended with a hint about her daughter Anne and exaggerated flattery of her own person. Her lack of subtlety and manners made him want to hurl the contents of his stomach at the repulsive (and ridiculously expensive) material she might have referred to as décor.
There were quite a lot more of those. But none of those were quite equivalent to the torture that was being in the same room with a Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
Not that there was anything that he disliked about Miss Bennet–quite the opposite, in fact. And therein laid the problem.
Darcy dared not acknowledge it, but he knew that he was forming a deep attachment to her, something that surpassed even affection.
He was falling in love with her.
How could he not? She was exceedingly handsome. Perhaps that might not be one's first impression of the second Bennet daughter, especially in the presence of her sister, the luminous Jane Bennet. However, Miss Bennet's beauty was not something that committed itself into memory. Not like Miss Elizabeth, whose countenance only improved upon further inspection, much like a painting. Subtle, but concealing a complex and vibrant beauty if you only looked hard enough.
And there was her wit.
Her sharp tongue and lively mind were the hooks that had grabbed his attention. She held no pretentions. She was perfectly content on being her own self, which was probably what he appreciated most about her, a refreshing change from stilted society. And not to mention–
"Mr. Darcy?"
Grateful to finally fix his gaze on the lady in question (for trying to appreciate her in the corner of his eye was putting a strain in his retinas), he replied, "What is it, Miss Bennet?"
She stared at him in concern. "I only inquire after your health, sir." Why, Mr. Darcy looked even more uncomfortable than usual! It was no small feat, considering the fact that he always looked to be in some discomfort or other. Now he looked as if he were experiencing some pain.
"I am quite well, madam. I thank you." He tried to sound as indifferent as possible, though the warmth of her fine brown eyes and the genuine worry in her lilting voice was proving that to be very difficult, indeed.
She continued to study him, and he could not help but notice the shadows her dark eyelashes were casting on her face, a contrast with the pristine whiteness of her cheeks. Those enticing lips of hers were pursed, her brow was furrowed in trepidation, and he wanted nothing more that to smooth those lines out of her forehead.
The peculiar image of him physically attending to her forehead created a great deal of amusement. Much to his horror, he could feel the corners of his mouth involuntarily lifting upwards, as if they were being pulled by an invisible force. From Elizabeth's look of astonishment, he could gather that he was actually smiling.
He was most likely displaying his silly dimples, too!
He knew that single smile from him would cause any young lady to take it as a sign of his interest, which was precisely why he had perfected a mask of aloofness. More often than not, those women were already daydreaming about the finest carriages and jewels.
No, he thought firmly, I will not raise her expectations. I shall not continue in this manner.
He tried to replace the expression on his countenance with a more severe one, to no avail. His facial muscles were having a duel, some adamant on forming a smile, the others quite determined to scowl as deeply as humanly possible.
Elizabeth's confusion turned into alarm at the bizarre contortions that were taking over her companion's face. "Mr. Darcy!" She began to rise. "Shall I call for a doctor?"
Finally taking hold of himself, he quickly grabbed her gloved arm and gently pulled her back to her seat. Finally, he allowed the slightest of smiles to grace his lips. "That would not be necessary, madam. I only feel...under the weather." He swallowed, feeling mortified.
Elizabeth sighed, finally giving up hope on the disturbing man she was forced to partake the chief of her afternoon with, and wordlessly returned to her book.
Well, wasn't this just great. The tension in the air was so thick that he could call the cook to come and slice it like a pastry. He cleared his throat. "Miss Bennet?"
"Yes, sir?"
He racked his mind for something to say, before inquiring (rather lamely) about the volume she was reading. She responded in kind, and they lasped into awkward silence again.
Say something, fool, he thought. He continued observing Miss Bennet discreetly behind the pages of his book. "Miss Bennet, I love you," he blurted out.
He was astonished when she closed her book and smiled at him in that arch manner that he loved so much. She leaned forward and gazed into his eyes. "Oh, Fitzwilliam," she breathed, making his own breath hitch, "I thought you would never say that." She placed her delicate hands on either side of his face and slowly lowered her lips to his...
"Mr. Darcy!" Elizabeth all but shouted. He had been staring at her with his eyes wide and jaw dropped, and, if she could be so frank, he looked like a horrified little boy. She wondered if she had anything on her face that would cause such a reaction!
He was harshly pulled out from his reverie. He blinked at her in confusion. "What did you say, dearest Eliz–Miss Bennet?"
"I had informed you that I will be checking on my sister." She bobbed into a shallow curtsy before quitting the room in haste. She shook her head and practically ran to Jane's room. On her way, she noticed the time. She could not believe it.
She was able to endure that torturous stay in the library for half-an-hour!
Haha...yeah. Just a load of pre-Darcy/Elizabeth awkwardness. Please review! :)