This story has been sitting amongst my files for far too long, screaming to be published. Finally, I granted its desire; how could I not since it's my first and only P&P fanfiction. A little fluffy, a little OOC here and there but overall satisfying to my not-so-objective eyes.
P.S.: Constructive criticism rocks!
Elizabeth walked down the street deep in thought. At the sight of the Darcy siblings she was extremely nervous and would gladly have escaped the room before they came in. Now, however, that the visit was over and they were gone, she felt a strange void inside. She wanted to see them – him – again, and she could hardly wait until the next day when she and her aunt would return the visit. She had professed a need for some fresh air and had immediately stepped out to dwell on her newfound feelings undistracted. Mr. Darcy had been delightful during the course of that half hour; he had conversed with her and her uncle on both serious and frivolous subjects with complaisance and respect for his conversation partners. He had even made a joke that got her so near laughing that she was sure her surprise and pleasure were both visible enough for her observant aunt to perceive.
She stopped in front of a bookstore. She had passed it several times during walks the days before but since she was in company she could not have gone in. This was as good a time as any, and it would help, she thought, to ease her troubled mind, even temporarily so. She could fil it with fictional characters and imaginative stories so that the disturbingly intense thought of someone real would escape her for a while. She soon found by walking down the small corridor between the large bookcases that her purpose would not be fulfilled, since she immediately spotted the man with the familiar tall figure standing with his back turned, gazing through the pages of a large volume. She could have turned back and leave- he would never know she was there- but she could not. She wanted not. She approached him quietly and put a hand on his shoulder.
He seemed a little startled but he turned gracefully and on seeing her, his face was overspread with a smile of delight she had begun to like very much.
"Miss Elizabeth! What a pleasant surprise!"
"Surprise indeed! I did not expect to find you here! Did not you return to Pemberley?"
"I left Georgiana and Charles to return on their own. I have not been in the area for quite some time, and I must confess I miss this bookstore almost as much as I miss my home."
"I did not know you were so attached to new books. Miss Bingley will be delighted to know you are adding more to your library!" She immediately regretted bringing up Miss Bingley, for she saw his countenance darken for a while as he quietly replied:
"Miss Bingley is ready to compliment me for whatever I do, but it does not give me one moment's concern. Are you looking for a particular book?"
"Well, no, maybe you could recommend one?" She asked his advice hoping this might lighten his mood a bit. And it did. His smile returned when he jokingly told her:
"Are you one to desire some light reading while travelling or can you endure the weight of a philosophical work?"
"I do not know a person who would be able to concentrate into a significant or enlightening reading while in the discomfort of a carriage drive or the enjoyments of a trip. I'm afraid I cannot currently make use of your most meaningful suggestions."
"I understand. For my part I can only read what is important in the tranquility of my library or garden. May I suggest a Shakespearean comedy?"
"I have read some of his works and I would like to read more."
"Have you read "Much ado about nothing" ?"
"Indeed I have not"
"He reached for a shelf on his right and retrieved the book. "It is one of my favorite comedies. It does not have the dramatic overtone that makes his other works so renowned but it still very clever and enjoyable. Beatrice actually reminds me of you."
"How so, sir?"
"Well, she has a sharp wit and great loyalty toward the people for whom she cares, and she is also unmoved by society's conventions and will not bent in light of its demands."
"Elizabeth blushed and replied "You flatter me, sir, but I do not think I possess the value to be as memorable or celebrated as a Shakespearean heroin. Perhaps there is a character in here that resembles yourself?"
"He seemed a little confused when he replied: "Sure, if we are talking about one who appears arrogant and indifferent for the feelings of others". He averted his eyes during that speech and his grave countenance that he had shaken before immediately returned. Elizabeth could have perceived his words as accusatory toward her for having misjudged him, but the sadness that was so apparent in his voice prevented her from being offended but rather made her bestow a tender look on him that made her embarrassed.
"After a short silence, her companion reached for another book and revealed it to be one of poetry.
"I suppose that a poetry book could be pleasant enough." He opened the book at a random page and read aloud:
"Bid me to live, and I will live
Thy Protestant to be,
Or bid me love, and I will give
A loving heart to thee.
A heart as soft, a heart as kind,
A heart as sound and free
As in the whole world thou canst find,
That heart I'll give to thee.
"Bid me to weep and I will weep
While I have eyes to see:
And having none, yet will I keep
A heart to weep for thee.
Thou art my life, my love, my heart,
The very eyes of me,
And hast command of every part,
To live and die for thee." *
"Elizabeth was almost ready to admit that she would prefer a novel or a play when she was entirely consumed by the passion in his voice. He spoke in a quiet deep whisper, his voice trembled momentarily as he went through the final verse and she remained there staring at him feeling her heart swelling with an emotion she had yet to come to terms with. When he ceased he looked in her eyes and stared back at her for a minute, though they both felt it to be much longer. At last she recollected herself and tried to appear joyful when she exclaimed:
"I never really cared for poetry before."
"Me neither." Darcy made no other comment and put the book back on the shelf. "So, are you decided on reading Sir William's words?"
"Why, of course, his recommendations are impressive after all."
"Allow me then." he said and took the book from her hands.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy, you do not have to-"
"Please, I insist."
"You have not chosen anything yet."
"There will be time enough some other day. Right now, I must make my return to my sister and my guests." He paid for the book, after engaging in some friendly banter with the bookstore owner that made Elizabeth wonder yet again for this new side of him she was a witness to, and they went outside. He insisted on escorting her back to the inn and Elizabeth had the pleasure of his company for a while longer. She had the opportunity to admit to herself that their discussions were exactly as she wished them to be- on a high intellectual level, with mutual respect and good will. She also had the chance to see how he was viewed by the people of the town, and realized, with no small satisfaction, that he was well liked and some of the inhabitants seemed to be also comfortable in speaking to him as they would speak to anyone with half his consequence. She knew that this kind of intimacy could only exist because he allowed it and was delighted that he was actually that much less proud among his familiar surroundings. At last, they reached the inn where he took her hand and bestowed a small kiss on her knuckles.
"It was a great pleasure to have met you, Miss Elizabeth."
"The pleasure is all mine, sir. Thank you for the book and your company."
"Not at all. I wish you a good afternoon." He looked in her eyes again and turned hesitantly away.
"Mr. Darcy!" she called him back, though she hardly knew why. She blushed and continued: "How are you going back to Pemberley? Do not Mr. Bingley and your sister have the carriage?"
He stood in momentary wonder at her question, but calmly replied that he too was fond of walking and he knew the way very well. Elizabeth hesitated. One look at the sky made her fear that it was going to rain and she simply could not stand the thought of him out there. Nevertheless there was not much she could do, so she contented herself to whisper a distraught "be careful" and went inside, leaving him even more astonished.
Darcy walked away with his mind even more full of her than before – if that was even possible – and he let himself for the first time to form a small but strong hope. The next days would be critical, he was sure, but today he felt a little closer to fulfilling his wish. Just a little.
*Poem by Robert Herrick (1591-1674)