Disclaimer: I don't own Pride and Prejudice. I am not that old, and if I were, I'd still lack the wit necessary. It's all Jane Austen's.
Tolerable
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife.
It was supposed truths such as these, Mr. Darcy pondered quietly to himself, that made his life when out in unfamiliar society most tedious. Bingley seemed to thrive on these attentions, which just made it all the worse. Why encourage these presumptuous country folk, set on nothing but acquiring their wealth and superior connections? Who seemed to think that their daughters had a claim on all single men in the vicinity (or at least those with some fortune accompanying their name)?
The daughters in question seemed set on the same goal, from what he could see. They were like sheep, all the same. Their families trying to sell them as livestock and they themselves enjoying it!
This small town in Hertfordshire seemed even worse already, from the little he had seen and heard. Bingley, though a sensible man at other times, appeared glad to be introduced to every woman in the room, and took delight in constantly expressing his good opinion of everything brought to his attention.
Darcy himself, however, stood in the corner and occasionally took a stroll around the room. Bingley would insist on occasionally coming over to persuade him to dance, or attempt to introduce him to some insipid new acquaintance of his. Each time Darcy would bow his head, as politely as he could in the face of such blatant insincerity as their smiles showed, and excuse himself. He did not know any of these people, so how on Earth could he be expected to find a topic worth discussing with them? He despised all forms of small talk unless it guided towards a specific purpose. As the small talk of these people tended towards a design on him on behalf of their daughters – none of which seemed in the least original or intelligent, not even uncommonly pretty – he would just as soon not bother.
There was a shortage of gentlemen at this particular gathering and many ladies, which obliged a few of the young women to sit down during several dances. Bingley's sisters, however, appeared never to be in want of a partner. He therefore did his duty to his friend, and to the only acquaintances of his present, by standing up with both Caroline and Mrs Hurst twice and no more. Obligations fulfilled, he took to standing at the side of the room, attempting to remain unnoticed. Bingley was dancing – for a second time, which did not go unnoticed for a moment by any attending – with perhaps one of the few pretty girls in the room. A Miss Bennett, he recalled, from an earlier ambush by his friend.
He was still standing at the side, trying to ignore the dark glances being sent his way (and, indeed, the mutterings that accompanied them – the main culprit of this being the rather crass Mrs Bennett, the mother of Bingley's partner), when his good friend approached him once more, looking more determined than previously.
"Come, Darcy!" he said, good-humoured but insistent, "I must have you dance! I hate to see you standing about in this stupid manner by yourself. You had much better dance."
"I certainly shall not," Darcy replied, rather coldly, hoping to be rid of him. "You know how I detest it, unless I am particularly acquainted with my partner. At such an assembly as this, it would be insupportable. Your sisters are engaged at present," he indicated the two women dancing in the centre, "and there is not another woman in the room, whom it would not be a punishment for me to stand up with."
This was all too true. What a punishment it would be, indeed, to have to dance (probably in complete silence or else being talked to about trivial and stupid matters) with a girl determined to 'secure' him. What possible enjoyment was to be had from it?
"I would not be as fastidious as you are for a kingdom!" cried Bingley in disapproval and, unless Darcy was mistaken, some amusement. "Upon my honour, I have never met with so many pleasant girls in my life, as I have this evening; and there are several of them you see uncommonly pretty."
Darcy raised his eyebrows at what he deemed to be a blatant over-exaggeration of the merits of such women.
"You," he replied, amused slightly by his friend's enthusiasm, "are dancing with the only handsome girl in the room." He indicated the eldest Miss Bennett.
Bingley's eyes lit up at the mention of his partner.
"Oh, she is the most beautiful creature I ever beheld," he cried joyfully and Darcy's lips quirked slightly in satisfaction. Perhaps now the conversation would shift from him and his inclination (or lack thereof) towards dancing. He was soon to be disappointed, however.
"But there is one of her sisters sitting down just behind you," Bingley continued, and Darcy could have groaned with frustration, "who is very pretty, and I dare say, very agreeable. Do let me ask my partner to introduce you."
Darcy sighed very slightly in impatience. "Which do you mean?" he asked, turning very slightly to catch a glimpse of the creature. Sitting down, closer than he would have assumed, was the young woman to which Bingley referred. She was pretty enough, but nothing remarkable. She was looking at him in open curiosity, mingled with surprise at his turning around to meet her gaze. Unless he was very much mistaken she was taking in every word exchanged between the two gentlemen. He looked at her disinterestedly for a moment and then turned back to his friend.
"She is tolerable," he stated bluntly, showing Bingley exactly how little he was inclined to dance with her, "but not handsome enough to tempt me; and I am in no humour at present to give consequence to ladies who are slighted by other men. You had better return to your partner and enjoy her smiles, for you are wasting your time with me."
Bingley took his advice and retreated, but not without one last reproachful glance at his anti-social friend.
Darcy had forgotten about the young woman – who, he realised much too late, must have heard his rather unflattering comment – until she stood up and strode past him. If he had given a thought to her reaction he would have expected offence, or, perhaps, even upset. He did not expect, however, for her to be wearing an amused and somewhat triumphant smirk while she daintily yet determinedly breezed past him, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
His eyes followed her as she made her way over to a Miss Lucas (whose father had been bothering him all evening). The two women leaned their heads together conspiratorially and exchanged a few words. Both of them glanced up at him once or twice before suddenly starting to laugh together merrily. A few of the women nearby glanced briefly at them, while a few of the men looked discomfited (for when women laugh together, men often suspect themselves to be the subject, which is not at all reassuring to them).
Darcy stared at them in shock. He was in no doubt as to who or what they were laughing about and that made him nervous and somewhat vexed. The girl (Miss Elizabeth Bennett, was it?) had just been slighted, and the natural reaction would be to feel angry or perhaps embarrassed (though that had not been his specific intent, it had only been to rid him of Bingley's interference for a while). Instead, she had managed to make him feel like that! Like she held the upper hand and he was the fool. How dare she laugh at him?
* * *
"And so none of the Hertfordshire ladies could please you, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley inquired (somewhat smugly) that evening, knowing full well his inevitable answer.
"Not even the famous Miss Bennetts?" added her sister, Mrs Hurst, in mock surprise.
"Well," declared Bingley contentedly, "I've never met with pleasanter people or prettier girls in all my life."
Darcy stared at him incredulously while the man's sisters shared a fond and condescending smile at their brother's complete blindness when it came to character and breeding.
"Bingley, you astonish me," Darcy admonished, his look deeply sceptical. "I saw little beauty and no breeding at all." He recalled the behaviour of many of the young ladies as lacking in propriety and (in the case of Mrs Bennett) a few of the married women too. And then there was the lady who had had the gall to laugh at his expense. "The eldest Miss Bennett is, I grant you, very pretty." She was also by far the least irksome of the Bennetts, though not particularly interesting.
"A fine concession!" Bingley protested good-humouredly, a broad smile appearing on his face at the mere mention of her. "Come man! Admit it, she's an angel."
"She smiles too much," said Darcy cynically, smiling as his friend rolled his eyes in frustration.
"Oh, Jane Bennett is a sweet girl," interjected Miss Bingley, as Mrs Hurst nodded her agreement. "But the mother!" She said this last with great disdain and censure, and everyone in the room, even Bingley (however reluctantly), was forced to concede this fault of Miss Bennett's. Nothing could fully make up for the crime of having such a woman as a mother.
Miss Bingley continued, not yet finished (if Darcy was any judge) degrading the Bennetts.
"I heard Miss Elisa Bennett described as a famous local beauty," she said, referring to the subject of Mr. Darcy's vexation. He would not soon forgive her slight, however much he may have deserved it (not that he had). "What do you say to that, Mr. Darcy?"
"I should as soon call her mother a wit," he said disdainfully, as both of Bingley's sisters laughed at his casual deprecation of another woman.
"Oh, Mr. Darcy! That is too cruel!" scolded Miss Bingley light-heartedly, still laughing (perhaps a little more than the comment merited, he felt).
"Darcy," said Bingley, standing up and shaking his head in mock despair. "I shall never understand why you go through the world determined to be displeased with everything and everyone in it."
"And I," answered Darcy with a slight smirk, "will never understand why you are in such a rage to approve of everything and everyone you meet."
"Well, you shall not make me think ill of Miss Bennett, Darcy."
"Indeed he shall not," agreed Caroline Bingley teasingly. "I shall dare his disapproval, and declare she is a dear sweet girl," she eyed Darcy coyly, clearly trying to gain his attention, "despite her unfortunate relations, and I should not be sorry to know her better!"
"No, nor I," agreed Mrs Hurst and then added smugly, "You see Mr. Darcy? We are not afraid of you."
"I would not have you so."
They retired early that night, at least three of them dreading the next gathering that they'd be obliged to attend, and one of them eager to see a certain angel again.
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A/N: I found that pretty hard going. Mr. Darcy is hard to write! This is not as good as I'd like but please tell me what you think, as I appreciate all feedback!
I decided to basically write this as a blend between the book and the 1995 BBC mini-series, picking and choosing bits from each (depending on which captured a moment better). Hope it works.
Does anyone have any tips for writing about Pride and Prejudice fics? If so, I'll love you eternally!