Maintaining Order
A Lizzie Bennet Diaries one-shot from Darcy's perspective set after (and during) episode 47, "It's About Communicating." I wanted to post this before episode 48 came out last Thursday, but this needed a lot more work than I expected. I hope this is still relevant.
I have never seriously written fanfiction before, and I'm not really sure about this. I found myself thinking about the situation from Darcy's point of view, and it all started from Lizzy's more-than-usually subjective description of the party and their dance particularly. And then I began thinking of how, in the story, Darcy and Caroline convince Bingley to leave because of all the impropriety, the conceived money-digging, and the fact that Jane smiles too much, just not more at Bingley than everyone else. (And, of course, I was doing this while I was supposed to be working). So I decided to write this from Darcy's point of view, especially since I love the scene in the book. I'm just not sure about it because I had all these ideas but then went to sleep, so I couldn't remember what they were. And I feel like Darcy may sound more unpleasant than I intended him to be. In any case, I posted it anyway, and I really hope you guys like it. And please do review! Thank you for reading, fellow LBD fans! You're all seriously wonderful!
I don't own The Lizzie Bennet Diaries or Pride and Prejudice or even the Hunger Games (which is mentioned here), or any of the characters in all of these wonderful stories.
Darcy had never thought that the thick Los Angeles summer air could feel this refreshing. But it did, and as he stepped off the plane, he realized that it was almost medically effective. With it came a surge of relief, the sense of a weight dropping from his shoulders as he watched Bing walk off the plane (after he let everyone else pass in front of him). Caroline caught his eye and smiled triumphantly.
Leaving that small, inconsequential town had been a difficult decision – who would've thought! – but necessary. Darcy had had his own misgivings, but Caroline, along with the last few weeks they were there, assured him that they were more than just misgivings. Bing was about to throw his future away just because a girl with a pretty face had batted her eyelashes at him. At first, they had laughed at the whole thing; Bing had a tendency to fall in love with the first pretty face he saw, but it soon started to look serious. He was talking about staying, making things more permanent, and he wouldn't listen to their words of caution.
And Darcy ignored it all, despite Caroline's constant hints (and very loud speeches) that they should do something to help Bing where he couldn't help himself. He thought he was in love, and Jane was a nice enough girl. So Darcy allowed it to go on (and he may have been slightly distracted as well, but that is not the issue here). He even didn't find it too drastic that Bing asked Jane Bennet to stay at Netherfield for a month.
But at the end of that month, Bing himself came to Darcy for advice: he was unsure about the relationship, doubting whether Jane was as invested in the relationship as he was, or if she even liked him in particular. Yes, she smiled a lot, she was really nice and attentive, but she didn't seem to care about him in a particular way, any more than she did about everyone else. Darcy was horrified: how had he not noticed before? Was he really that distracted by… never mind. So he watched her from then on. And Bing was right. Jane was using him: he drove her to work, entertained her only when she had nothing else to do, and he was playing the role of the anxious lover waiting by the phone. And he watched her at Carter's Bar (that horrid, dingy dive) when Bing wasn't there. She flirted with every guy who approached her! She smiled and simpered, even though he and Caroline were right there! Of course, his observations had to be cut short with the arrival of – he didn't want to think about it. Another good reason they were leaving. The entire bar should be burnt down and the town put under quarantine for that parasite's presence there.
He might have felt slightly guilty for his influence over Bing if Bing was even the slightest bit happy in the relationship or the town. What had started off as a vacation from the stress of their careers (something Darcy never managed to escape in the end), was becoming too permanent, and they now even needed time off from this vacation. Not that it had ever been a vacation for Darcy. A vacation is never unstudied and impulsive, as their sojourn to this place could attest. A reasonable person didn't just up and leave somewhere when he didn't know whether the place could offer any entertainment or good company. And this town definitely did not. And he had made sure that Bing knew what his opinion was, even if he hadn't listened, but Darcy made sure not be childish and say "I told you so" at the first sign of trouble. Though he really wanted to, especially with the presence of the one person he could not bear to see, a man he wanted nothing but to punch in the face, then stand back and smile (but those were uncivilized thoughts, and he ignored them), making him edgier.
Bing's birthday party was the last sign they needed. The tickets were bought, the bags packed, but Bing was the last unsure thing. But what Darcy witnessed at the party was appalling enough that even if Jane Bennet had confessed her love to Bing in his presence, if she had sacrificed herself to save him from a falling ice sculpture, he would have carried Bing out of that place himself.
He had known that the Bennet family was not the most… respectable. He really wasn't so high-nosed or self-important, but there are certain standards of public behavior, an etiquette, if you will, and the Bennets certainly did not meet them. He had ignored the younger sister's open displays of… well, her behavior, and tried to shake off the thought that she was the same age as Gigi out of his mind. And he ignored the mother's interference and loudness. But the party seemed to be one final curtain of their "Bennet Bonanza," and, after one small moment of distraction (which really wasn't his fault), Darcy witnessed the horrors unfold before him. Lydia Bennet seemed louder and more intent on making sure she left no one untouched by her flirting, Mrs. Bennet walked around like a definite future member of the house, introducing herself as the mother of the bride, boasting about how many cars her daughter would have and the jacuzzi that she would install have in her guest bathroom, and, worst of all, Mr. Bennet sat in the corner, allowing it all to happen while he played Words with Friends (yes, Darcy had sneaked a peak at the screen) on his wife's phone.
So Darcy and Caroline had another quick discussion, agreed on battle tactics, and attacked Bing after the final guests (the Bennets, of course) had left. They confirmed his fears, reminding him of how Jane hadn't bothered to find him all night, spending the entire evening with his college buddies (probably to find someone with more money, Darcy thought). Bing had protested, insisting they give her more time, that the family was going through some problems. But no. The combined efforts of Darcy and Caroline's will was enough to sway him in the end, which was how Darcy found himself, very soon after, on a plane with his friend, sure that memories of the Bennets, along with all the mediocre drama associated with the place, were trickling away as the plane lifted off.
Although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, he was also, frustratingly, thinking about a few things he had left behind. He couldn't doze off to the sleep of a relaxed and satisfied person, and as he clutched the book in his hands almost to shreds at the thought that she had followed him here, he thought he knew exactly what it was, or who, that made it impossible for him, as it was for Bing, to leave. He had been kinder to Bing than himself, saving him from an anchor of a relationship. He had not said anything (well, almost nothing) the whole time he was being ensnared by those eyes that kept him there. He hadn't tried to save himself by leaving because he saw that his friend was happy. And all the while, he had been in danger as well! He could feel a headache building up behind his eyes as he remembered that only last night, at the party, he had forgotten what he was supposed to be doing for a few moments when Elizabeth Bennet came in. He was in the middle of a conversation, and, naturally, the Bennets made a lot of noise at their entrance, but that wasn't what distracted him. It was, again Elizabeth, who forced him to ignore the fact that her younger sister was louder than usual, that her mother was eyeing an expensive painting, that her father was carrying a newspaper, and that Jane was smiling – again. But Elizabeth, or Lizzie, was distracted too. She was looking around anxiously, craning her neck to see above the heads of the crowd that was filling the foyer. For a single, foolish second, Darcy's heart stopped as her eyes found him, and he felt himself begin to smile with excitement and his hand raise to wave at her; he even began to take a few steps in her direction. But she moved on, didn't even notice that she had looked at him, and, like a love-sick teenager, his heart sank with disappointment – and, that unfamiliar but newly-found feeling, jealousy. Who on earth was she looking for? A thought nagged at the back of his mind, but he shook it off furiously. No, absolutely not.
He tried to keep away from her during the party, and it would have been easy enough if he had actually wanted to. And, in any case, there was no harm in having a little fun this evening, especially if he ignored the fact that he was actually only slightly dreading leaving because of her. Who was he kidding – she was the only reason he had stayed. He hated this place from the start; Bing's idea of renting the house was beyond ridiculous and ill-advised. There was absolutely nothing to do. He might have told Bing that he wasn't interested in Elizabeth Bennet during the wedding, but the next time he saw her, he definitely was interested. There was something about how she stared at you so defiantly that made a person look back and listen to her. Her look had an almost physical effect on him; he had to stare, listen, just watch her. And he found it oddly distracting to watch her at first as she made every conversation an issue of importance, her eyes growing wider and brighter with her interest. He kept his distance at first, even when he wanted to take part; he couldn't think how to join in. But he then found himself defying his own discomfort and walking into a conversations she was having, trying to blend in, feeling again that his height made him more awkwardly obvious than he wanted to be, but then found he had to take part. He knew what he was talking about, and he had strong opinions too. But once she turned her eyes on him, challenging him to challenge her, it always turned into a game. And as much as he enjoyed them, he never seemed to win. He was either outwitted by her or said something he meant which just came out wrong. And almost always, he was left standing, wanting to shake her, whether for her infuriating willfulness or how much he enjoyed it.
And he wasn't this type. He enjoyed nothing of the sort. He enjoyed order above all and, if he needed to enjoy company, it was only select friends – because he had selected them. It wasn't out of vanity, but confidence: he knew what he wanted. Unlike Bing! Darcy chastised himself for the thought. That was unfair, especially now. Bing might have wanted to give everything up for a girl, but he wasn't any better. He had wiled the summer away in a God-forsaken half-formed notion of a town, managing to do infuriatingly inconsequential bits of work, when he should have gone back home. Or, better yet, to Georgiana's side. The thought of Gigi only made his already muddled mind worse. And it brought back thoughts of that George Wickham. And his face, which he still wanted to break.
And Elizabeth! He might have been a little too distracted last night, what with her accepting to dance with him (he wanted to dance, what a ridiculous idea!), and the fact that she was so close, her hands warm, her face there…. He needed to snap out of it. But he hadn't forgotten that moment of irritation, utter alarm, that had, even then with her seemingly unwilling presence in the dance, shaken him out of his ridiculously pleasant reverie. He had tried to converse – he wasn't stubborn enough not to try, especially after he had been so silent the first time (though, really, what did people expect from a stranger?). And suddenly, very abruptly, the conversation had moved to Wickham! Did that man really have to follow him into every nook of his life? It was Elizabeth who took a sharp turn in the conversation, her tone not just challenging this time but accusatory, waiting for him to trip.
She said something about how bad or sad (something that rhymed with mad – how mad he was for getting into the whole thing) that they had not all "hung out" since George Wickham had come to town. It might have been difficult to concentrate with her so close, but that certainly caught his attention.
He didn't want to take the bait. Really, he didn't. So he clenched his jaw, physically restraining himself from profanity, and said, "Is it?"
Lizzie's expression had turned unpleasantly pleasant. "Oh, but I thought you knew him. At least that's what he told me." The breeziness with which she mentioned their apparent intimacy made Darcy wish Wickham was there, just to be able to knock his teeth out. But that was slightly barbaric, and perhaps too territorial. He didn't know or care which.
Trying to ignore the bitter taste at the back of his mouth, that now too-familiar flavor of jealousy, he said, "Oh? You two have been… talking?" Not the most eloquent of comebacks, but it was the best he could manage.
Lizzie smiled, her teeth hidden in contempt. "Yes, we've had the pleasure of hanging out a few times."
Darcy scoffed, even rolled his eyes. "Yeah, well, George Wickham has a gift for making friends; they're a dime a dozen to him. Whether he can keep them, or if he cares to unless he needs something, is another story." Darcy bit his tongue. He really needed to stop before he slipped up.
Lizzie's face fell, now openly sour. "It's too bad he's lost you as a friend. He could have used a friend like you, especially when he needed one."
Darcy didn't reply, only watched her face, while her eyes started intently, as though studying him. "What are you trying to say?" He didn't know whether he was should be insulted.
"Nothing, just trying to understand."
"What? I'd be happy to help if you could clarify." He really was unsure where this was going.
Lizzie continued to look at him, her eyes searching his face, and he felt slightly nervous and flushed. Finally, she smiled. "Never mind. I've got all I need."
Darcy opened his mouth to interrogate her further, but the song ended, and she slipped out of his grasp and his sight, leaving him infuriated, fascinated, and completely out of breath.
He would have continued in his rut, or perhaps even sought her out again, impulsively tried to explain himself, but, unfortunately, the rest of the Bennet family occupied the rest of his evening. On his way away from the dance, and still quite dazed, he was shaken again but now by a more high-pitched and self-important monologue.
"Oh, my dear Jane has done what I always knew she would," Mrs. Bennet was crooning to a friend of hers, who looked, to Darcy's eyes, ready to kill herself or her companion. He wasn't the least bit surprised. "Did I tell you how she managed it?"
The other woman sighed openly, waving her arms in exasperation. "Yes, yes, you have. You have."
Mrs. Bennet didn't seem to hear her or care. She tossed her curled hair, and her large rings shone obnoxiously as she continued. "All she had to do was flash that beautiful smile, bat those long eyelashes, naturally so, mind you, from my side of the family of course, and Bing Lee was in the palm of her hand. Now all we need is a certain step forward." She winked and wiggled her ring finger, and Darcy felt himself choke. "And that's coming any day now, trust me. Then my perfect spring wedding will be a reality. And everything I ever wanted… for my daughter, of course! I mean, look at this house! I wouldn't mind one of my own…"
Darcy left when a wave of nausea hit him, reeling past guests who turned to talk to him, but seeing none of them. This was more serious than he thought. Mrs. Bennet, he had learned, was not the most subtle of gossips, but she was determined. Bing had told him enough about how she had cajoled a lunch invitation out of him. And if Lydia was any bit like her mother, then the rest of the daughters were not any different, and Bing was walking into a trap. Of all the gold-digging, conniving – Darcy stopped. He had wanted to grab Bing, drag him out of the party, and onto a plane as fast as possible. But he was with Jane. Well, in a group in which Jane was standing. He was staring at her like a loyal puppy, and Darcy looked at him worriedly. Then guiltily when he noticed Jane. She wasn't heartless, no matter what her mother's speeches might imply, but she didn't seem as love-sick as Bing. She wasn't even looking at him. He stood by the wall, waiting before making a decision. But Bing left, and Jane didn't even look after him. Darcy sighed. It would hurt, but it was best for Bing.
The rest of the evening did nothing in the Bennets' favor. Where the mother was loud and vocal about her plans to redecorate when her daughter was mistress of the house, the father was painfully silent. He said nothing to quiet his wife, even when she embarrassed her daughters. He seemed sensible enough, which should have been enough to balance the relationship, but it seemed he, too, was indifferent to how his family looked and acted in public. While his youngest daughter slid barefoot on the floor, dragging behind her a train of equally intoxicated people, he seemed to notice nothing beyond the newspaper he had unabashedly opened. The Bennets seemed to have forgotten, or never learnt, how to behave in public, or in a party that was any class higher than a college dorm party.
The thought only stopped at Elizabeth, even slightly at Jane. Whenever he saw her, he felt a burning urge to walk up to her, talk to her just a little longer and maybe even dance again. She was animated, bright, and just so riveting. But, thankfully or not, the behavior of the rest of her family counterweighed any pull she had by completely revolting him.
Bing had eventually yielded to Darcy and Caroline, and Darcy felt triumphant and satisfied. It was for his own good, after all. But he couldn't help thinking, as he clutched his newly-purchased copy of the Hunger Games (a book he had seen Elizabeth absorbed in at Netherfield and had, on a whim, bought), whether it hadn't been for his own good as well.