Elizabeth Bennet was not a woman to be trifled with.
However, she was a woman who could and did enjoy trifles, and so she partook on her skip through the woods to Netherfield Park quite willingly, at the request of her mother, whom needed Mr. Bingley's shoe size for whatever reason.
"Because the colour has to match with Jane's wedding dress, Eliza," Mrs. Bennet had proclaimed in her usual loquacious manner when Elizabeth demanded the reason for the visit. Elizabeth only sighed and wondered at what other colour than white the wedding dress would be and what possible colour the shoes could be that wouldn't match with white, of all colours.
All the same, she thought mischievously as she dodged a rivulet, she wouldn't be so distressed to see Mr. Darcy; in fact, she was positive that his shoe colour and size would be most sought after as well.
Mr. Darcy. Now there was a subject that could render Elizabeth happier than anyone else on earth. He had commented once that these days, she smiled even more than Jane, to which she had raised her eyebrows and said that he was looking considerably more cheerful himself.
"It's something about heartbreak," he replied. "It makes one extremely somber and depressed."
Lizzy's heart leaped further into the skies of love, and she picked up her pace, arriving at Netherfield in absolutely record time. After paying her greetings to Miss Bingley, who was inconveniently waiting in the foyer, perhaps in anticipation of her visit, she had to say hello to the housekeeper and chef before she could forge on ahead. In all reality, she was quite vexed with Miss Bingley. However syrupy she seemed now, Elizabeth had the continuous notion that she was in every way trying to get between the two and break up their engagement. Elizabeth was very careful with what she drank nowadays.
As she skipped leisurely up the stairs on her way to Mr. Bingley's bedchamber, where the housekeeper had said he would be, she took care to not underestimate Miss Bingley. Perhaps she really had changed for the better.
And perhaps Mr. Wickham really does love Lydia, thought Elizabeth, and as both subjects were undefined, she rendered the case moot.
There were really too many doors in this place, she thought upon reaching the top of the stairs. Doors to the left, and doors to the right—and which way had Gayle said Mr. Bingley's room was?
All in good time, she thought resignedly, and started working her way down the left hand of the corridor, hoping beyond hope that she didn't run into any unexpected guests.
The one at the end of the hall was obviously a bedroom, but no one was in it as far as she could see. Sighing, Elizabeth stepped inside and began her search, never pausing to entertain the thought that it might not be Mr. Bingley's chamber.
No one was in the immediate vicinity of the room, but there was a door at one end of the room. Elizabeth smiled in triumph and twisted the doorknob.
As it turned out, it wasn't Mr. Bingley's room. To the contrary, it was the room of someone else that she knew very well. And as it happened, that someone else was dressed in nothing but a dressing gown and had the look of a deer that saw the gun tilted at it right before it fired.
"Miss Bennet," Mr. Darcy said civilly. Lizzy tried very hard to move her mouth, but it was already down by her feet, and there wasn't much she could do about it. Instead, a slow blush spread across her cheeks as she groped for the doorknob.
"I'm… dreadfully… sorry," she said, her hand finding empty air. "Extremely… extremely…"
"Extremely extremely—now, there, I didn't know adverbs described other adverbs. I must be horribly out of fashion. Beg your pardon." He bowed jerkily as she remained gaping at him.
Technically speaking, the view wasn't half bad…
"I can't find the doorknob," she admitted plaintively, hand hitting wood for the seventh time. A smile tugged at his lips.
"I don't know if I should tell you where it is," he confessed. "On one hand, it's terribly awkward having you staring at me like a goldfish while I'm wearing nothing but my dressing gown. On the other hand, I must admit that your lovely countenance will be sorely missed."
"If I must be a goldfish, Mr. Darcy, I would like to make the conjecture that you are a worm, and an easily digestible one at that, although I confess you may pose some threat to my stomach."
"I remain deeply offended, Miss Bennet," he said with another bow. He gazed at her with some indistinguishable expression in his eyes, which Elizabeth rather felt she was instinctively returning. She was suddenly very curious as to whether he kissed well or not, and although she might not be the best judge of it, never having been kissed before, well, it was an interesting prospect.
Upon her completion of this reflection, he crossed the distance between them and, in an anticlimactic way, opened the door. Lizzy glared at him, and he smiled, in a good-humoured fashion.
"Are you much bemused with my current state of dress?" he inquired.
"I would have thought I was granting you the privilege of regarding my 'lovely countenance' awhile further," replied Elizabeth. "I wonder if you really are so unprideful as you think you are."
"You do me ill," Darcy responded readily. He tilted his head out the door, motioning her to leave, but there was something in his eyes that made her stand fast.
"Apparently my dressing gown is of some consequence," he noted. "In the future, I shall wear it to all banquets, and hope profusely that all women as accomplished as you in nature will enjoy it as much as you."
He obviously expected a witty reply, perhaps dealing with how the colours were quite out of fashion, but Elizabeth was fed up with wondering about kissing him, especially since he seemed unlikely to kiss her in the near future. Thus, she rose to her tiptoes quickly and pecked him chastely on the mouth. She then lumbered back, unable to decide whether now was the moment to laugh or apologize.
Darcy, in turn, looked the epitome of confusion.
"Er…" was the best he could manage, and Lizzy raised her eyebrows.
"If you so much regret kissing me, then I shudder to find how inept you will be when we marry," she noted. "Perhaps it is best to break it all off, to prevent further discomfort, and I'm sure Lady Catherine will not regret having you back in the slightest. Indeed, Miss Bingley will be much gratified to learn that she did not have to put much work into ending our engagement; I fancy that she rather thought she was going to have to break a nail in doing so."
Darcy let out a short laugh as he glanced at his fiancée, whose eyes were sparkling with unchecked laughter.
"My God, Lizzy, we'll never get on, now, will we?" he sighed, reaching out to wrap an arm around her waist and draw her closer to him.
"Oh, I fancy that it's all in the quarrels," Elizabeth declared readily, tilting her head upwards as he let out a throaty chuckle and touched his warm mouth to hers.
"Oh, Lady Bennet! Master Darcy! I don't mean to interrupt, but won't you please come down to luncheon?"
*
Teehee. That was fun.