DARCY'S BIG WISH
Summary: What if Darcy made a life-altering wish at the Netherfield ball? Inspired by Pride and Prejudice, and Big, (the 1988 movie starring Tom Hanks).
Disclaimer: "Pride and Prejudice" is the creation of Jane Austen (1775 –1817). This story is property of the author. © 2017
Note: This is a preview only.
Jane Austen Quote: "He began to wish to know more of her…" (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 6)
Chapter 1
Never had Fitzwilliam Darcy been so bewitched by a woman. From the moment she entered the Netherfield ballroom, his gaze followed her as she greeted the other guests. Her eyes sparkled and her melodious laugh echoed throughout the hall. She made her way slowly through the crowd with her older sister and he felt compelled to follow, drawn like a moth to a flame, taking no notice of the other guests' attempts to greet him. His sole focus was the only woman who had ever gained his notice.
When he first had met Miss Elizabeth Bennet, he thought her pretty enough though not a great beauty. Now that he had become better acquainted with her, he found her personality so lively and her eyes so expressive that he considered her quite beautiful. There was no denying that she had captured his attentions and presented a considerable danger. He had frequently cautioned himself in the past few weeks that an alliance with her was entirely unsuitable and to raise her expectations would be inappropriate. But those warnings were pushed back into the furthest recesses of his mind as he watched her glide from room to room, gracing her acquaintances with her warm smile. He chose, too, to ignore the troublesome thought that he was behaving like a schoolboy with a hopeless infatuation. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire was a man of the world; he did not suffer from infatuations.
Despite the hazards she presented, he lingered behind her as she greeted her friend. Miss Charlotte Lucas had been out in society for several seasons and was only a year younger than Darcy but her prospects were quite limited in this tiny community; for that matter, so were Miss Elizabeth's. The only other eligible gentlemen in Meryton besides himself and his friend Charles Bingley was her cousin, Mr. William Collins, a foolish parson.
He noticed Collins now as the parson made his entrance and greeted the Bennet family. His mannerisms were so exaggerated that he appeared as a bumbling fool, bowing and scraping to the other guests with much more reverence than propriety required. Miss Elizabeth smiled uneasily as Mr. Collins hovered near her, waiting for the first set to be announced. Could he have already requested the first dance with her?—Darcy wondered.
Charles Bingley, Darcy's closest friend and the host of the ball, announced that the first set would begin momentarily. Charles took his place with his unmarried sister Caroline while his married sister Louisa took hers with her husband, Henry Hurst. Other couples approached the dance floor and Darcy cringed as the bumbling parson grasped Miss Elizabeth's hand and strutted to the set, then plodded his way through the steps as the music began. She smiled cordially but Darcy sensed that she must be mortified to stand up with him, even if her gracious manners gave no hint of her displeasure. But Darcy felt his annoyance rise each time the parson grasped her hand. His gaze drifted to Mrs. Bennet who was standing nearby watching their progress with great interest. Is she conspiring for a match between them? Darcy shuddered at the thought of such a beautiful, lively and intelligent woman encumbered by an alliance with the gauche oaf. He resolved to ask Miss Elizabeth for a dance at the first opportunity.
~~o~~
When Elizabeth Bennet entered the great hall at Netherfield, she felt as though she had been transported to a shimmering faery wonderland. Crystal and silver glimmered in the flickering candlelight. The guests were elegantly coiffed, dressed and bejewelled, while members of the local militia milled about in their brightly coloured regimentals. The general splendour was awe inspiring.
Elizabeth herself was in the highest spirits that night. She had already decided that nothing would diminish her enjoyment of the evening; not her odious cousin, Mr. Collins, whose fawning attentions had become quite disturbing of late; not her hostess, Miss Caroline Bingley, whose displeasure with Elizabeth was unmistakable; nor Mr. Darcy, whose disapproving glares had discomposed her on many previous occasions.
No, the single pleasure she sought this evening was the attentions of the handsome and charming Lieutenant Wickham, a new acquaintance attached to the local militia. She had been in company with him on a few occasions and he had impressed her with his good manners and amiable demeanour. She looked forward to becoming more acquainted with him and where better than on the dance floor?
The orchestra played in the background as she walked into the ballroom amidst a crush of people, straining for a glimpse of him through the crowd. Each nook and corner of the room was filled with guests except the one she sought; but she would not allow her hopes to diminish. She found her dear friend, Charlotte Lucas in good spirits and together they wandered to the parlour. Perhaps she might find the lieutenant there.
Unfortunately, Mr. Collins chose that moment to claim her hand for the first set. He had asked her days ago for the dance, making it impossible for her to refuse; she could not very well claim a prior engagement when they had only that day received the invitation to the ball from Mr. Bingley. Elizabeth steeled herself for an unpleasant dance, knowing that standing up with the pompous, status seeker would be mortifying in the extreme.
As she had feared, he regaled her with stories of his connections to the first circles of society, as if some of their importance and prominence had magically been bestowed upon him. He attempted to impress her with his attentions and she did everything in her power to avoid his foul breath, leering eyes and clumsy feet. She knew that he had spoken to her mama of a possible match between them but the very idea made her skin prickle. Her eventual match, she was certain, would be for the deepest, most enduring love, and certainly her troll-like cousin could never inspire such a romantic notion. The moment of her release from the dance was ecstasy and she exited the dance floor with Charlotte, relieved to finally be away from him.
Colonel Forster applied for her hand for the next set and she cheerfully agreed. Unlike Mr. Collins, the colonel was an excellent partner, never making a false step, never leering, never assaulting her senses with malodorous breath. He was in every way agreeable.
During their dance, she learned that Lieutenant Wickham had been called away on business to Town. She immediately suspected that the presence of a certain gentleman from Derbyshire was the real cause of his absence. Lieutenant Wickham had confided a most disturbing tale of their history and unfortunate dispute; since Mr. Darcy was a powerful and influential man, Mr. Wickham must have stayed away to avoid an unpleasant encounter. Elizabeth could scarcely blame him. Mr. Darcy had insulted her and refused to dance with her last month at the Meryton assembly and from that moment on, she herself had resolved to avoid the disagreeable man.
After the second set, she unexpectedly encountered Mr. Darcy who inexplicably applied for her hand for the third. Why he would request a dance when he clearly disapproved of her was a mystery to Elizabeth, but if she wished to continue dancing for the remainder of the evening, she had no other choice but to accept. Even though she had once vowed never to dance with him, Charlotte reminded her that he was a man of great consequence. She accepted her fate with outward good humour but looked forward to the end of the set.
To be sure, when he escorted her to the dance floor, she was fully aware of the honour to stand up with such a distinguished gentleman, disagreeable as he was. He was quite handsome, too, and she had noticed that his smile made him even more so; but a smile was an infrequent adornment for the overly proud gentleman. If only his manners were as charming as his appearance—she thought. Of course one could not very well smile while disapproving of all the world and its occupants, now could one?
She attempted to engage Mr. Darcy in conversation and failing this, decided to taunt him with the mention of Mr. Wickham's name, knowing perfectly well of his dispute with the lieutenant. While she made no direct references to his offence against Mr. Wickham, she made no hesitation to elude to it. Someone should take him to task for his malevolence. His response was icy and before she knew it, they were quarrelling in the middle of the dance floor.
Tonight was the night on which she had placed so many hopes – to see Lieutenant Wickham, to dance with him, to discover if he shared a similar regard – but it was all for naught. When she was finally released from her insufferable partner, she escaped to a balcony for a breath of fresh air and to collect her thoughts. She never could have predicted that the evening she had anticipated with such great delight would turn into a grim disaster. She had only danced three dances and wondered if she might do better to sit out the remaining sets.
~~o~~
Although Darcy had not initially intended to dance with Miss Elizabeth that evening, their dance had not gone at all the way he would have planned. It had begun well enough and he had enjoyed the pleasant sensation of holding her gloved hand and guiding her through the set. Then she had mentioned Wickham's name and he had lost his temper. She obviously held the misguided opinion that Wickham was graced with an upstanding moral character and Darcy was the one deficient in that regard. He had not the inclination to disabuse her of that notion and had declined to engage her in further conversation about the blackguard. The protection of someone dear to him was of the utmost importance. However, now that his temper had cooled, he could not allow the blackguard to prevail in her opinion; he would correct her misapprehensions as discreetly as possible. He would seek another opportunity to dance with her later in the evening.
Miss Bingley hovered nearby, quite obviously waiting for him to request a dance. He had no desire to encourage her affections; her adulation and fawning, flirtatious manners were abhorrent. He had never given her the slightest encouragement but she made no secret of her desire for a match with him. Spending the last month with her as a guest at Netherfield had taken every ounce of his forbearance; he had resorted to evading her whenever possible. However, she was the hostess of the evening and he could not very well avoid dancing with her at least once. He prepared himself for an unpleasant encounter, applied to her for the next set and was instantly accepted, with a deep curtsy and fluttering lashes.
The set began without exception until he noticed Miss Elizabeth dancing at the other end of the ballroom. Her partner was Mr. Denny, another officer and friend of the detestable Wickham. He wondered if Denny had the same proclivities—gambling, womanizing and idleness—though he did not appear to be using the dance as an opportunity to touch his partner inappropriately as Wickham was wont to do. Rather, he conducted himself in every way that a gentleman ought and Miss Elizabeth seemed to enjoy Denny's company. She smiled in her easy manner and showed no hesitation as she had done when dancing with the parson.
Darcy was captivated by her flowing movements; she seemed to glide through the dance as though her feet never touched the floor. But it occurred to him that she had not offered her smiles once during their dance together. To be sure, he had offered no smile of his own; his sister, Georgiana had often chided him for his habitual sternness, telling him that his frown made him appear more severe than he realized. However, his smile had always produced unfortunate dimples in his cheeks which he abhorred and he sought to avoid the absurdity at all costs. Such a childish appearance would never do for the master of Pemberley.
"Do you not agree, Mr. Darcy?" Miss Bingley asked.
"Agree with what, Miss Bingley?" He turned his attentions to his partner, somewhat annoyed at being interrupted from his observation of the lovely Miss Elizabeth.
"That Charles is making a fool of himself tonight, following Miss Bennet like a puppy," she said with an air of disdain. She had made no secret of her contempt for the Bennet sisters, especially Miss Elizabeth whom she must consider a rival for his affections.
When Darcy had made the mistake of revealing his regard for Miss Elizabeth to Miss Bingley, citing his appreciation of her fine eyes, Miss Bingley had immediately reminded him of Miss Elizabeth's inferior standing and unsuitable connections. However, despite Miss Elizabeth's reduced circumstances, they far surpassed anything that Miss Bingley could aspire to. Although she refused to admit it, the Bingley family had their roots in trade while the Bennet family was of the landed gentry; Miss Elizabeth was superior to Caroline in that regard. "Charles is a grown man, Miss Bingley, capable of making his own choices," he said. He had no desire to discuss Charles' affairs with her or to converse with her at all, for that matter; he would much rather watch Miss Elizabeth.
Is she enjoying her dance with Denny more than her dance with me?—he wondered. Of course, he had to concede that she had most likely not enjoyed her dance with him at all. It had started out well enough but then she had mentioned Wickham; he had become so enraged, he had been obliged to bite his tongue to gain control of his temper. She in turn had challenged him and argued with him during the dance and finally walked away with a defiant expression. Denny, however, seemed to have evoked no such response from her; she was smiling and to all appearances was enjoying herself immensely.
At least the blackguard has shown the good sense to decline the invitation to this evening's event—Darcy thought, glad of Wickham's absence. He would have been unable to vouch for his own behaviour if he had been forced to observe the despicable Wickham dancing with the fair Miss Elizabeth; gazing at her fine form and allowing his hands to linger on hers longer than allowed for by the dance. He felt the heat rise to his face as he recalled that he had employed those very same devices during his own dance with Miss Elizabeth. But surely his intentions were more honourable than those of the blackguard; were they not? What were my own intentions?—he wondered.
He was vaguely aware of Miss Bingley's constant attempts at conversation but was unable to tear his attention from Miss Elizabeth. Why do I insist on seeking her out like a love-sick school boy? He chided himself for such foolishness, grasping Miss Bingley's gloved hand and they made their way down the dance together. As they passed by Miss Elizabeth and her partner, he noticed she was wearing her most enchanting smile and he wondered what they were talking about. She seemed to be in the highest spirits, so it was obvious they were not quarrelling. How vexing it was to watch her enjoy the company of another man. He turned and grasped his partner's hand again as they went back up the dance; unfortunately, he was unable to observe Miss Elizabeth from this vantage point.
"I hope you are enjoying the evening, Mr. Darcy," Miss Bingley said.
As well as can be expected—he thought to himself. "Indeed, you are to be commended for the success of the evening," he replied. The other guests seemed to be enjoying themselves so it was not much of an exaggeration. He, on the other hand, looked forward to the end of the ball; he spent the remainder of the set planning his escape from Hertfordshire. That day could not come soon enough for Darcy.
After he had escorted Miss Bingley off the floor, he was accosted by the bumbling parson, who introduced himself under the guise of his connection to his esteemed patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh. Mr. Collins informed Darcy that his aunt and cousin were in good health; the fool seemed under the impression that he had been remiss in relaying this information earlier and bowed in a ridiculously servile manner. Darcy had wondered how Aunt Catherine had seen fit to offer a living to such a buffoon though as he continued to speak, it became quite clear; she was overly fond of commanding respect and adulation from the lower classes and this minion was proficient in his display. "I am so well convinced of Lady Catherine's discernment that I am certain she would never bestow a favour unworthily," said Darcy in a caustic tone. Of course, this response had the opposite effect and the parson thanked him profusely and took his leave with a low bow.
~~o~~
© 2017
