I Shouldn't Have
"I can't believe he talked me into this," Fitzwilliam Darcy muttered to himself, as he hoisted himself up a boxwood. Charles Bingley had pleaded incessantly all day, and he had finally caved. Last time Bingley had called on the Bennets, he had left his gloves. Bingley, fool that he was, had worn his best, to impress Jane. This was the fourth occasion, and he was simply too embarrassed to ask for them back. Now, however, it was the eve of the Netherfield ball, and he did not have them. Darcy had finally obliged to retrieve them, but, God forbid was he to ask the Bennets for them. Bingley had made Darcy swear he wouldn't ask for them. Seeing as he had left them upstairs, had posed a bit, well more than a bit, of a problem. He could not penetrate the house unless he entered through the door, where he would obviously be seen. He must, instead, climb through the window, and get them- unnoticed, mind you- and return to Netherfield Hall.
He peeked cautiously over the windowsill of the second floor, and what he saw both shocked and pleased him. Jane Bennet was tightening the strings on the corset of a half-dressed Elizabeth. Their backs were facing him, and it took Darcy a few moments to register that Jane was half-dressed as well. He turned away instinctively, knowing that he was in a bad position, should they catch him. But the thought of her was overpowering, and he turned back again. He let out a soft, slow breath as he drank in her soft, pale shoulders, and her loose curled hair. Her bare feet were smooth and slender, her arms graceful and sweet. He was so enamored by her appearance, he did not even listen to her speech, until he was awakened by her voice saying, "Come, Jane, we must do you," and left with her sister. He recovered himself, and remembering his mission, heaved himself inside. Knowing he had little time, he quitted the room and grabbed the gloves, where they lay on a table, down the hall. He practically threw himself out the window, and only narrowly made his escape. Almost as soon as had gotten out, he heard their reentrance. He mastered the urge to look inside again, and climbed back down. He dashed to Netherfield through the most covered paths he could find, and upon his arrival, was greeted by a grateful Charles.
"Darcy! I can think of no way to repay you," Bingley said.
"You're right about that! I have no idea how you convinced me! When did you become so conniving?"
"Conniving? I was merely in desperate need! Perhaps that brings out my skills!"
"Well, you'll never hoodwink me again! Do you know what I saw?"
Darcy went on to relate these things to a beet red Bingley, who snatched the gloves and ran. "Coward," Darcy said under his breath.
Elizabeth laughed. "You truly did that? That is the most hysterical thing I have ever heard! How could you look so grave and solemn that evening after that?" she asked.
Darcy joined in her laughter. " 'Tis my nature! I am always grave and solemn, you know that!"
"I suppose I do. That reminds me of the time I-" She stopped, and blushed. Darcy set down his tea and looked at his wife suspiciously intrigued. "Go on," he said. "No! I will not! I shouldn't have seen it in the first place," Elizabeth said, crossing her arms, in a sort of final manner. "Tell me!" Darcy urged. "Alright. If you really wish to know. It all began…"
