AUTHOR NOTES: First of all, I would like to apologize to everyone for the delay. I know excuses will not change anything, but I was busy these last weeks and I could not find any time to write. To be honest, what takes most of my time in this story it is the editing. It is difficult to try to write in a language that it isn't your own, much more for me that I always end up confused with the other two languages I know. Nonetheless, I decided to write this story as a challenge to myself, and I will continue it until the end. I only ask for your patience to stay with me in this story until I finished it.
Going back to this chapter, I know that maybe many, if not all of you, are expecting to read now the following scenes after the incident at the ball, but I have decided to make this chapter as an answer to some of the comments I've read. I saw that in some comments, people asked me to write in the perspective of Mr. Darcy. Well, in fact, I wanted to do this story only in Elizabeth's perspective, but after having read these reviews, I realized that I wanted to get into Mr. Darcy's mind, too. Especially in the moments before the Netherfield Ball, which as we already know, were part of Mr. Darcy great fight against his feelings for Elizabeth.
This chapter explored the situations that could have happened before the Netherfield Ball. It will not change anything in the previous chapter, as I mentioned, I just wanted to explore Mr. Darcy's feelings before the beginning of the ball, and some circumstances with the other characters that lived in Netherfield Park. I enjoyed very much writing in Mr. Darcy's perspective, but if I got carried away by the emotion and I committed some grammar mistakes, I apologize profusely for it. I ask for your comprehension again because I am new at this and I continue learning. Before you ask, you don't have to worry, the next chapter will focus on what will happen after the ball's incident.
With nothing more to say, I only hope you enjoy this chapter.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Pride and Prejudice" or its characters. They belong to Jane Austen, that amazing English writer who created beautiful masterpieces of literature more than two centuries ago, I only wish I could have met her.
" She attracted him more than he liked (...) He wisely resolved to be particularly careful that no sign of admiration should now escape him, nothing that could elevate her with the hope of influencing his felicity."
"Pride and Prejudice." (Chapter 12)
Forty-five minutes before the beginning of the ball...
Three of the inhabitants of Netherfield Park were ready for the ball. Mr. Bingley, Mr. Hurst, and Mrs. Hurst were expecting in the drawing room for the other two inhabitants of the house. The voice from the master of the house and Mr. Hurst's snoring were the only things that were heard in that room.
"And I tell you, Louisa. The moment I see Miss Bennet, I will ask her for a second dance, too!" Mr. Bingley exclaimed enthusiastically, with his always present smile. "Of course, one of our dances had to be the supper set, so in that way, I will spend all the supper in her company. Will that not be great, Louisa?"
Mrs. Hurst rolled her eyes in disgust at her brother's words and started whirling slightly with her wrist a glass of brandy that she was holding in her hand. Mr. Bingley was so focused on his thoughts, daydreaming and counting minutes until he will see Jane Bennet again, that he was oblivious to the reception that his words had from his sister.
When he turned around to ask for his brother-in-law's opinion in the matter, he lifted his eyebrows in astonishment at seeing Mr. Hurst deeply asleep on the couch.
"Hurst fell asleep!" Mr. Bingley declared surprisingly. He had been talking so much time without paying attention to his surroundings, that he had not realized until now, that his brother-in-law had been asleep for more than half an hour.
"How much time has he been sleeping?" He frowned in consternation.
"Forty minutes," Louisa responded mechanically as she brought the glass of brandy to her lips to take a gulp of it. She closed her eyes and grimaced as if the liquid had burned her throat.
"No more brandy, Louisa." Mr. Bingley warned with a severe look. "The ball has not even begun."
"That is precisely the reason why I am drinking." She defended herself purposely and looked at her sleeping husband. "I am preparing myself for this night."
"Do not talk nonsense, Louisa." He took the glass from her sister's hands to put it on the table. Then, looking again at his brother-in-law, he added. "I think that it will be wise if we wake up Hurst now, the guests can arrive at any minute."
"Let him sleep and rest, Charles." She reclaimed with a groan. "He is hardly snoring."
Just to prove the truth of her words, her husband's snoring became even more intense. He shook up even the ceilings with his powerful snoring.
"Great." She spoke under her breath, and her brother sent her a knowing look, which exasperated her further.
"It does not matter! I want him to sleep now. What will happen if he falls asleep at the ball?" She proclaimed advisedly and her face changed to a look of horror, just imagining that situation. "Oh, no! If that happens, it will be in that moment when I will probably die of shame. Do you want to see you sister dead?"
Mr. Bingley merely smiled at her statement. Just like Caroline, it seemed that his sisters were prone to exaggeration. He crossed his arms and raised his eyebrows in challenge. Mrs. Hurst grumbled; still not ready to give up. However, her husband's snoring continued increasing in volume and force at each minute, and after a heavy sigh of resignation, she reluctantly acceded.
"Alright," She eyed her brother with a face of little friends. "Let's get him up."
Mr. Bingley lost no more time in contemplation and began shaking his brother-in-law to wake him up. Unluckily for him, he spent a long time moving Mr. Hurst, without any results. In fact, he made things worse because Mr. Hurst's snoring became more unbearable.
"Will you let me try?" His sister asked with a pretended sweet tone, after many failed attempts to wake Mr. Hurst up. Without any objection, Mr. Bingley gave readily the task to his sister.
"It will be difficult to wake him up the way you are doing." She explained wearily to her brother. "However, I know a way to make things easier. For this, I need brandy."
"No more brandy, Louisa." Mr. Bingley spoke in admonishment. "You only have to shake him to wake him up."
"You do not understand! He will never wake up in that way." She responded truthfully. "Just give me the brandy, it is not for me." Her brother sent her a look that clearly said he did not believe her.
"Please, trust me." Louisa pleaded her brother. "He will not wake up in any other way."
A little unwillingly, Mr. Bingley gave his sister a complete bottle of brandy. Mrs. Hurst took it for a moment to her husband's face, directly to his nose, and then pushed it away quickly. A moment later, she approached to her husband's ear to say.
"Oh, no!" She proclaimed with a pretended sad tone. "There is no more brandy for Hurst."
Her husband woke up with a start and yelled in an irritated tone.
"What! How come there is no more brandy!" Mr. Hurst cried impatiently. Still a little disoriented, he was shouting to the empty chair next to him. "I want brandy! Where is my brandy?"
"He came back." Louisa sighed in relief and leaned back on the seat with a triumphant smile.
"Excellent solution, Louisa." Mr. Bingley approved with a wink. "I could not have thought of anything better."
"My brandy, Louisa?" Mr. Hurt asked his wife as a child asked for a candy, and she concentrated in serving a glass of it to calm him down.
"You have finally woken up, Hurst! You seemed in a dream enchantment like the sleeping beauty type." Mr. Bingley jested with a smirk. "Do you not believe it, Louisa?"
His sister sent him a look that clearly told him to leave the matter aside. Mr. Bingley assented, but the smile on his face could not disappear. After giving her husband a glass of brandy, Mrs. Hurst sat down and her face adopted her usual bored expression.
"My knee is trembling." Mr. Hurst commented after some minutes of silence, touching the referred knee.
"Do we have to know what is going on your body?" Louisa reproached in a whisper.
"You do not get my meaning! My knee is trembling to tell me that it is going to rain." Mr. Hurst signaled his knee with pride.
"Here comes again." His wife put her hand on her forehead and closed her eyes in languishment.
"This knee has always warned me about the rains before they happened." Mr. Hurst declared as if he had not heard her.
"What are you talking about, Hurst?" Mr. Bingley frowned, slightly concerned. "Is it going to rain?"
"Yes, I am pretty sure. This knee has never failed me." His brother-in-law patted his knee with fondness. "Did I not predict that it was going to rain two weeks ago when we went to that reunion with the officers?"
"We all saw it coming." Mr. Bingley argued, presenting a point. "The sky was cloudy that day, but tonight..." He saw through the windows to confirm his idea. "... It does not look as if it is going to rain."
"We are going to see who has the reason at the end, Bingley." Mr. Hurst raised his hands as a truce to close the subject.
"Changing to more important things," He eyed his wife again. "I hope it will be ragout for the supper, Louisa."
Louisa inhaled heavily as she prayed to Heavens to give her the patience to endure all of this.
"For the thousandth time," Mrs. Hurst repeated in a weary tone to her husband. "The ragout was the first order I made for the supper. You do not have to worry about it."
"Of course I worry about it!" He cried out accusingly. "The last ball you made, there was no ragout at the supper and I had to content myself with a white soup."
"What!" Mrs. Hurst focused her eyes on him, clearly offended. "You continue blaming me for it. How many times do I have to tell that it was not my fault? You are going to chase me with it all my life!"
When Mr. Bingley noticed that Mr. Hurst was about to reply, he rose from his seat and began walking towards the exit. Another of their married fights started and Mr. Bingley did not want to be a witness of that. He could not help but yearn for the ball to start once and for all, although his other sister and his friend were still missing.
"I wonder what takes Caroline and Darcy so much time." He murmured as he took his hand to his chin. Behind him, he could only hear his elder sister and her husband's shouting.
In the meantime...
"More feathers! I want much more feathers on my hair!" Miss Bingley squealed loudly to her young maid, who had been bearing her complaints about more than two hours.
The poor maid was very tired of the situation and a severe headache was accumulating in her temples every time she heard her mistress' irritating voice.
"Have you not heard me?" Miss Bingley continued her tirade without rest. "I want more feathers! Much more feathers! Go and bring me more, incompetent girl!"
Caroline almost spat her words and looked at her maid with an unkind look, that the efficient servant was trying her patience. Lest she disrespected her mistress and responded as she wished, the girl simply retired from the room to bring what Miss Bingley requested. Even though in her mind, she kept repeating to herself. 'When she gets into that mood, something that happens almost every day, there is no one who can stand her company.'
The moment her maid disappeared from her sight, Caroline looked at her image in the mirror and moved her head from one side to another to see her profile in both directions.
"Excellent. With a little more feather," She smiled almost satisfied with her image in the mirror. "... I will be just like a queen."
She was far from thinking that, contrary to what she believed, adding more feathers to her head, would make her look more like a stork than a queen.
"Tonight, I am going to get all Mr. Darcy's attention to myself." Caroline declared with absolute confidence and sufficiency. "I will not be surprised if he is thinking about me at this moment. I got him pleasantly surprised and fascinated with that turban I wore last night. He could not take his eyes from me!"
In fact, the reason why Mr. Darcy had been looking at her at the time was because he could not avoid thinking about what stupid fashion notion could have induced Miss Bingley to wear that horrible color so unbecomingly to her complexion. He had almost flinched in distaste the moment he first saw her.
"Not even a moment he thought about that Bennet girl," Caroline said her last words with venom; she detested the mere mention of that name. Just thinking about that upstart, put her in the worst of her moods.
"No, I do not need to worry more about this." She told herself to cool her anger. "I am completely perfect for him and Mr. Darcy is realizing it now. I am sure that he is thinking about me at this moment."
If only she knew how far were her thoughts from the reality.
In Mr. Darcy's room...
"It is too tight, Jones!" Mr. Darcy exclaimed in an annoyed tone, at the same time that with extreme nuisance, he tried to disarrange the complicated knot of his cravat.
His valet, Mr. Jones, did not reply to his complaint, and simply concentrated in arranging the supposed tight knot with his usual serenity.
Despite his gestures of weariness, Mr. Darcy let his valet mend his cravat without uttering a single word. The man only adopted a quiet attitude, and the valet did not comment anything about his continuous mood swings.
As a perceptive man, Mr. Jones had noticed that his master had not seemed himself these last days; he had been irritable without any apparent reason. The servant had obviously been curious about the cause behind his master moods, however, as an efficient valet, he merely did his work as if he did not notice anything at all.
Arranging the cravat proved to be a task less complicated than it was supposed to be. So, the good servant finished it in minutes and retired one moment to bring the coat his master was going to wear at the ball.
It will be a waste of time to describe how great was Mr. Jones' surprise when at returning, he found that his master's countenance had changed completely in the brief time he had been gone. Nothing remained from the frown and the hard look of moments before, his face had relaxed and his eyes had acquired strange warmth as he looked absentmindedly at a point in the distance.
"Those fine eyes." Mr. Darcy whispered, without realizing that his valet was beside him. "So, so beautiful."
Mr. Jones cleared his throat to capture his attention. The moment Mr. Darcy noticed his valet's presence, was the exact moment he widened his eyes and stiffened almost imperceptibly. Nevertheless, one moment later, as if he had not had that lapse, Mr. Darcy hardened his features to his usual facade of indifference.
As if Mr. Jones had not seen or heard anything at all, he began to put the coat on his master without saying a single word, and when Mr. Darcy was fully dressed, Mr. Jones let him check his appearance in the mirror as he always did before a ball begins. After a short scrutiny of himself, Mr. Darcy nodded his head in approval and stood up from his seat.
"Do you need anything else, sir?" Mr. Jones asked him before retiring.
The alluded limited to shook his head as a denial and focused his eyes in the watch from the wall as if it was the most extraordinary thing in the world. Examining the continuous change of the watch hands, he let out a deep sigh.
Well, it was not strange to Mr. Jones that Mr. Darcy simply limited to answer with gestures or looks; he was a man of few words after all. However, for some reason, tonight he appeared to be quieter than was his usual habit. Ignoring his own warning to not to be prying, Mr. Jones decided to speak.
"Will you go down now, sir?"
Mr. Darcy, who had appeared so attentive to the passing of time, turned his eyes to him sharply and frowned slightly at his question. His eyes could very well intimidate anyone, but not Mr. Jones, who had been working with him for over ten years. The servant just stayed impassible to his master's reception, and Mr. Darcy had to blink a couple of times to erase every trace of his early disturbance before talking.
"Not yet." He only murmured after a moment of silence, and then, as a deliberate act, he started walking to the windows at a calm pace. Once there, clasping his hands behind his back, he concentrated in admiring the night sky through the window's glass.
"You can retire now, Jones." He talked without turning his head. "I will call you before I go to sleep."
Taking the hint that he was not wanted, Mr. Jones started his retreat after a brief bow of farewell. The good valet was almost near the door when he heard Mr. Darcy's voice again.
"Jones!" That command made him stop his steps immediately and twirled around. He found that his master continued in the same position as before, looking through the windows with extreme attention.
"Sir?" Mr. Jones said expressionlessly.
Despite the valet expected his master would explain quickly the reason behind his call, he had to wait for a long while before Mr. Darcy answered. Mr. Jones felt a certain tension in his master's posture, but he could not see his face. If he could have done it, Mr. Jones would have been able to see how hundreds of emotions crossed Mr. Darcy's features as he struggled with himself before responding.
"I have decided that I am going to London tomorrow." At last, Mr. Darcy declared, with his deep voice echoing through the room. He moved slightly in his place and tightened more forcefully his hands behind his back as a way to assure to himself his own words.
Although the news astounded Mr. Jones, he did not let any of his surprise to show up on his face. His master was not a person who did things so improvised, but lastly, he had been changing the date for the departure to London at every turn, as if he had not made up his mind about the trip yet. Now, it seemed that he had already decided it.
"So, we are going." Mr. Jones stated the fact, at the same time he was asking for a confirmation. "I suppose that we will be going with Mr. Bingley."
Mr. Darcy answered with a curt nod, still without deigning to twirl around.
"Very well, sir." Mr. Jones continued despite his master's silence. "I will have everything packed for tomorrow."
His master did not answer him, he was already lost in thoughts that the good servant could not understand. Noting that what Mr. Darcy wanted most was to remain alone, the valet decided to retire as soon as possible.
"I will be downstairs communicating your departure to the house servants, sir." Mr. Jones announced and bowed. "I wish a good evening." He retired quickly without saying much more, leaving behind him a very confused Mr. Darcy to ponder on his own thoughts.
When his valet closed the door, Mr. Darcy closed his eyes and exhaled heavily.
"It is for the better." He murmured to himself. "It is the best solution, the only solution."
Mr. Darcy repeated and repeated those words in his mind so that they remained engraved in his head. Although he echoed this mantra many times, he could not get out of his chest the feeling that he was not doing the best.
"I... I want to go... I do not have..." Mr. Darcy spoke hesitantly, "... reasons to... to..."
His voice went away and he could not finish. He opened his eyes quickly and released his hands behind his back in frustration.
Annoyance. That was what he felt. An absolute annoyance! He was annoyed at himself for not being able to finish that simple sentence. Why was it so difficult to say? Returning to London was the only possible solution for his present situation.
"Decidedly, Darcy!" His head resonated with that phrase, "You have to finish that sentence decidedly."
Taking a breath to control his tension, he looked out the windows to the horizon resolutely.
"I do not have reasons to stay in Hertfordshire any longer."
He finally pronounced that statement slowly, trying to convince himself of the veracity of his words.
'Are you completely sure?' An exasperating voice responded in his head. 'Well, it seems to me that you are not so sure.' Mr. Darcy wanted to groan because of the direction that his thoughts were leading to. 'You do not have many reasons to stay in Hertfordshire. The truth is that you only have ONE special reason why you want to stay here.'
Mr. Darcy shut his eyes anew and shook his head in denial. Why were not even his thoughts on his side at this moment?
'Think, Darcy,' His inward voice continued despite his denial. 'You could have gone some days ago if you had presented some excuses to Bingley. Right now, you would have been very calm hearing your sister playing the piano at your townhouse in London.'
In retrospective, Mr. Darcy knew he should have done that when he had the opportunity, but his indecision did not let him. At this moment, he had to face the consequences of that stupid indecision.
'You would not have to attend this ball; you would not have to be with those people, bearing everyone's eyes on you, examining each one of your moves.' That voice kept drilling in his mind restlessly. 'Unluckily, you cannot go back now, you are here and you have to face what is going to come. The real question in this situation is why you are here.'
Mr. Darcy had been asking himself the same question all the time. Why was he still here? Whatever Mr. Darcy did, he still had not found the answer to that question.
'Accept it once and for all, will you? There is a reason why you continue here, and it is also the same reason why you are going now,' The voice in his head asserted. 'You are running away from that reason. More specifically, you are running away from her.'
His breathing stopped that very moment, leaving him in a bewildered state, completely speechless. As a last resource to calm him down, he squeezed his eyes with much force and leaned his forehead against the window as if he wanted to escape from his thoughts.
"No, it cannot be." He hit his forehead against the glass over and over again. "No, no, no."
'What I said.' His inner voice declared in triumph. 'You are running away from your feelings for her.'
Pulling his forehead from the window, he turned around his place to look in astonishment at his reflection in the mirror. As if Mr. Darcy had been carried by an unaccountable force, he started walking toward the mirror and did not stop until he was directly in front of it.
"My feelings for her?" He inquired at his reflection with trepidation. He saw his lips were moving, but he could not hear his voice. His heart had started to beat in an implacable pace and that was the only thing he could hear in his ears. Mr. Darcy stood paralyzed, frozen in his place without moving a single muscle.
"It has no sense." He voiced tensely, looking to his reflection. "I cannot... I cannot have feelings for her. It cannot be!"
Mr. Darcy was so confused for the truth that was trying to come out from him at last. He simply did not understand it, much less accepted it. It was impossible to him that after all these years of being pursued by the most beautiful women, with splendid dowries and lineages, he ended having feelings for this one. That was illogical. She was just a simple woman, wasn't she?
'Elizabeth Bennet? Simple?' His inward voice answered immediately. 'You know more than anyone else that it is not true.'
Releasing a profound sigh of acceptance, Mr. Darcy replied with sincerity.
"Yes, it is not true." He felt a strange warmth filled his breast, just thinking about her. "Simple is not a word that can describe her. It will never make her justice."
It would have to end the earth, it would have to stop the world from being the world and that everything that exists no longer made sense, so that one day someone might qualify her as simple.
"Elizabeth Bennet will never be simple." He whispered and felt each cell of his body vibrated uncontrollably at having pronounced her name at last.
Unbidden, her image appeared next to his reflection in the mirror that he could not believe his eyes. She was there, her face with one of her brilliant smiles directed at him, and that mischievous dimple on her left cheek in all its splendor, the dimple that always made its appearance when he least expected. He gaped at her, compelling his eyes not to blink once, fearful that she would disappear.
She raised one of her eyebrows and her eyes sparkled challengingly to him. Her delightful arch manner intact, so sweet and playful at the same time. If only she knew how that simple movement of her eyebrow, joined with her bewitching smile made his treacherous body react, in ways he was too ashamed to admit.
Her fine dark eyes were as bright as always, those fine eyes that made the stars looked as if they were not shining. Beautiful dark orbs with golden flecks surrounded by thick and incredibly long eyelashes. They were the only eyes that made him lose the sense and direction of his thoughts just by looking at them.
And those lips she had, they seemed to call him, almost begged him to be kissed. If only he could touch them. If only he could kiss her!
It was then when all reason came back to him like a bucket of cold water, ruining his reverie in just a second.
"Excellent! You have done it again, idiot!" He scolded himself as Elizabeth's image disappeared from the mirror. "Back on the subject, you should be avoiding."
Expelling another exhale of annoyance, he diverted his eyes from the mirror and started to walk about the room. His breath quickened as he was coming and going across the room in a perturbed state.
Weeks and weeks struggling in vain against his will, against his reason and even against his character, in essence, struggling against himself had left him completely weak.
"I do not know what to do more." He exclaimed desperately as he took his hands to his hair. "I had tried to control for so much time this... this..."
Mr. Darcy stopped abruptly his pace and looked at the ceiling in consternation. "How could I call it? What is what I feel?"
It was not a simple attraction, that much he was sure, although he refused to accept it. In all these years in society, never a woman had stayed in his thoughts more time than Elizabeth Bennet.
His breathing grew heavier each second from all the emotion he felt in his chest. Mr. Darcy felt he was going to explode at any moment. All of this was uncontrollable!
"Elizabeth." He kept saying that word in his mind over and over again. "Elizabeth."
It had been a long time since he had given up trying to call her Miss Bennet. It would have been impossible to call her in that way now. She will always be Elizabeth in his mind and that was another point that dazzled him even more.
When had he been so devoid of decorum to call a woman unfamiliar to him by her Christian name? Never! Never in his life! He had never had the audacity to do so with another woman. Why did all his actions change with Elizabeth?
Mr. Darcy watched as if in a fog of memories, each one of the situations he had lived since he met her, passed directly in front of his eyes. All he did, how he responded, how he reacted, everything passed in his mind. And it was incredible, completely incredible. He had been behaving like an inexperienced schoolboy!
"Lord in Heaven!" He declared breathlessly. "I am losing the battle!"
Mr. Darcy was more confused than ever, he could not understand his reactions to her. He, who had always been a man in control of his actions and feelings, had been behaving against his nature because of her.
Why did all his efforts seem to disappear when he was near her? What happened with his years of practiced self-mastery? What happened with all his renowned self-control?
It seemed they had been rendered completely useless at his present situation, and that... that could not be. That simply could not be!
"I am Fitzwilliam Darcy!" He cried out with his breathing more agitated than before. His hands turned into fists as he looked with impotence around his room. "I am master of Pemberley in Derbyshire. I am master of the people who depend on me. I had always been master of my own destiny. But, when.. when...?"
Taking his hands to his temples, he closed his eyes and voiced brokenly the question that was drilling in his mind with so much energy.
"When did I cease to be master of myself?"
That was the question that most tormented him. Mr. Darcy did not know why, but he believed that the answer to that question would bring him the peace he needed.
His mind was already tired of this entire situation. It was not just the internal battle that he was struggling, but it was also that his mind was a tangle of unanswered questions which filled him with uncertainty. Everything in him was a mess, an absolute disaster. Confusion. Confusion and more confusion was all he felt. Would it ever end?
Why did his life seem such as a whirlwind since he met her? Everything began at that point. It was because she was constantly in his mind.
"Why can she not leave my mind?" His voice seemed to reflect vulnerability, it was quivering. "Why?"
All of this surpassed him, it was beyond him. What could he do if nothing seemed to work?
Although more and more questions appeared in his mind, he could not find any answers that satisfied him. Would he never know the answers?
Uncertainty and more uncertainty! Mr. Darcy was so familiar with uncertainty at these last times, that he was almost accustomed to that sensation. However, growing accustomed to it did not mean that he accepted it. In fact, it was the contrary, that uncertainty made him desperate. Which person did like to live in uncertainty in what he really feels?
It was unbearable! What he needed most were clarifications, and clarifications he will have. That meant explanations to his reactions and actions, even if he spent all his last hours in the county in his room.
Still tense with these thoughts, he made his way to his bed with a determined step, more desirous than ever to determine once and for all what he really felt.
As soon as he arrived, he remained admiring the bed, still unwilling to initiate that introspection in himself. It is difficult for someone who had always tried to hide his emotions, pains, and thoughts, to open up that way, completely. Years and years had taught him never to reveal feelings and emotions, but now he would have to do it, at least with himself. He had to understand what was happening to him.
His face and all his body had contracted in a deep tension that seemed not to want to leave.
Nevertheless, a moment later, he dropped his shoulders, as if he had been abandoned by all energy and sat heavily on his bed. He swallowed hard and rested his elbows on his knees to lean his face on his hands.
"Think, think." Mr. Darcy muttered. "What is what fills me with uncertainty?"
Was this anticipation he felt when he knew he was going to be in her presence? Were these joyful feelings he felt when he was with her? Was that deeper need to know her, to learn what she liked or loved?
Reasons, he wanted to know the reasons behind all of this. Why did his life seem so different since she came into it?
"My life seems different now because..." Mr. Darcy raised his head from his hands and gazed at the wall in front of him, searching for the answers he wanted.
It is strange how after spending so much time looking for them, you realize that at the end that you had the answers to your own questions in yourself.
"... my life had always passed by, almost empty and without emotion. It was a deeper current of emotions that drew me to her. She brought to my life emotions I did not know that existed."
The difficult part from all of this did not only focus on recognizing what he felt, but the hardest test was also to accept it.
Although accepting that alleviated some of the tension he felt, it could not relieve him completely. He felt there was something more missing. What could be still missing?
As if he had been taken by an epiphany, Mr. Darcy answered to himself that question.
"Loneliness." The words sprouted from his lips steadily. "I had been lonely almost all my life."
Although he had his sister and his cousin, not even they had been able to understand him completely. Mr. Darcy used to lock himself in those barriers he created all the time because he wanted to protect himself from being vulnerable to the others. He tended to be lonely; it was in his nature to keep people away from him as a way of self-defense; especially, these last few months after the Ramsgate debacle. Mr. Darcy had never felt more alone than at that moment when he had locked himself in that bubble of self-deprecation and did not let anyone get into it.
What can be more pitiable than feeling so unworthy? Could be something more painful than knowing he had disappointed everyone? Could he bear the blame at seeing how the results of only one of his decisions caused damage to the most important thing he had in life, his sister? How could he feel well when he knew that he did not deserve to be happy? How could he be happy when someone was suffering because of him?
Blinking many times, Mr. Darcy tried to calm him down. He was overwhelmed by a great oppression in his chest, all the guilt he still felt from Ramsgate. Everything had appeared so dim at that time.
"Perhaps it is just that." He pronounced absentmindedly.
He had met Elizabeth at the moment of his life when he felt he was the worst of men, the moment he was completely miserable. If Mr. Darcy could not avoid thinking about her, it was because she was a complete contrast to what he was not. She was so full of joy and vivacity that he got drunk on these emotions just by looking at her. Maybe, he felt attracted to her just for this reason. Maybe, that was his answer.
"It is not just that." Mr. Darcy whispered against his will. He knew there was something more in all what he felt.
Years and years of knowing himself and he still could not understand his own heart.
Mr. Darcy could not avoid thinking about her as the most beautiful and intelligent woman of his acquaintance. Her beauty enthralled him and her sharp wit intrigued him. Her delightful arch manner made him want to smile. Her passion for defending what she firmly believed made him want to argue with her, just for the pleasure of seeing her eyes sparkled challengingly. And her way to show affection for those she held dear, that only way of loving she had, that made him wish against reason she could look at him in the same way she did at her loved ones. In short, it was the way she was, that was what had captured him entirely.
It was all those characteristics in her that made her so capable of filling him with all those strange emotions. Even though he was afraid to admit it, at times he seemed to feel in his grasp a happiness he had known so little in life.
"When was the last time I have been truly happy?" It was a question that came out from his heart.
The truth was that he did not have many memories in which he had been truly happy. Perhaps the last one went back to the time when his family was complete. The time he enjoyed a picnic with his parents when they still lived and together with 4-year-old Georgiana, they formed a beautiful family picture. Who would have said that his delicate mother would die soon after? Who would have thought that his father would never be the same after that, locking himself in his pain until the last day of his life? Who would have said that his family would never be the same after that event?
Could he avoid longing for that? A little true happiness. Longing for something he cannot have anymore because all of that was buried in the past.
In the end, it was just that. His life was a continuous remembrance of his past, from the last memories of true happiness he had.
But since he got there, after having passed these weeks in Hertfordshire, something had changed. Why did true happiness seem a possibility? Why did he feel it so near that he could count it almost like a reality?
Despite that, he feigned not to notice it; his heart was screaming to him that it was her, only her. Elizabeth influenced his felicity in some way.
"Influencing my felicity?" Mr. Darcy asked hoarsely to himself. He shook his head repeatedly, denying that simple notion, he was dumbfounded. The poor man could not even breathe because he had the air trapped in his throat.
"It cannot be!" Mr. Darcy's widen eyes were looking around his room as if he did not recognize his surroundings. "It cannot be!"
He could not let Elizabeth influence his felicity in any way. Mr. Darcy could not do it when he knew perfectly well she could not be a part of his life. He had a duty since his birth to his family and his estate.
He had to marry well, with an heiress and if she was a part of the nobility much better. It was his responsibility, and Fitzwilliam Darcy always did his duty, no matter what he felt or thought about it. He could not connect Pemberley with Elizabeth's family. He simply could not have her.
That was the cause why leaving Hertfordshire was the most reasonable thing to do; it was the best for everyone. It was the right thing to do, the only thing to do.
"I have to leave this place," He proclaimed, clenching his jaw. "To never see her again." Despite the resolution of his thoughts and his words, his treacherous heart, that was pounding in his chest restlessly, felt a sharp twinge in its core.
Why did he feel something inside him revolt at the very idea of leaving her? The idea of not seeing her again, the idea of not seeing again her bewitching smile, her fine eyes, almost made him despair.
"But, I have to forget!" He started to hit his palm against his forehead. "I have to forget everything about her."
Easier said than done. How can he forget every detail that had been so vividly marked in his mind since he had met her?
How can he forget the way each cell of his body felt alive every time he was in her presence? How can he forget her if every sensation he sensed had been marked in his skin with fire? How can he forget if he had been attracted to her practically since he had met her?
"And to think about what I said the first time I saw her." He remembered the words he said the first night they met.
"She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me."
"Ha! I had never said something more false than those words." He made fun of himself at the irony of the situation. "I had never known a woman more tempting than her."
So tempting that he could even forget who he was and what his duty was, just for her.
From the first moment he saw her, he could not help looking at her every time. His eyes were drawn to her like bees to honey; it was an involuntary act of which he was not even conscious. Not much time passed before he did not care more about being discovered in this pastime of his. He found a rare pleasure at seeing her, how her gestures changed, the way she conducted in society, how she acted with other people. He kept every detail of her with an almost obsessive precision. It was so ingrained in himself that all of this seemed to have no way out.
How can he stop all this if every time he thought about her, his heart filled with a warmth so little known to him that not only confused him, it also terrified him?
No more rumination on the matter! Whatever it was, it had to end. She could not have that power over him. She could not influence his life this way, his happiness was his and his alone. It had never depended on anyone but himself. Fitzwilliam Darcy had always been the master of himself and he must continue being.
The previous conclusion was the same, it could not be changed. He would have to leave Meryton as soon as possible.
When you fought against yourself, there is always a continual battle between your heart and your mind. Each one tried to overcome the other.
"But if..." His heart began exploring the possibility that it was beyond reason. "If only..."
"Stop!" He ordered himself before he lost his mind in forbidden thoughts. Thoughts that could never be. "The reflections are over. No more of them."
Focusing his ideas with a cooler head, he returned to the starting point.
"I will leave tomorrow." He pronounced with a conviction that bordered stubbornness. "It is the end!"
There is no decision that you can take that does not come with some kind of balance or sacrifice. Although Mr. Darcy was determined to do so, he knew perfectly well that this would be a great sacrifice for him. But when he had already made a decision, there was nothing in the world that could take it away from him. Absolutely nothing would make him step back.
The only thing left for him was to face the ball that was coming and to leave unharmed of all the calculating glances of the people in this town at the end.
'What are you going to do tonight?' His inward voice questioned after some time. 'Are going to walk as always around the ballroom and saw the others enjoying the night? Another of your typical Darcy habits?'
Well, the truth was that he had a wish he wanted to fulfill before leaving tomorrow. It was a wish that had already been denied to him twice, but he was sure that on the third opportunity, it will happen at last.
He wanted to dance with Elizabeth Bennet and it would have to be tonight because there would not be another chance to do it.
"It will only be a dance." Mr. Darcy excused his desires. "It will be the first and..." He swallowed hard before continuing. "...most probably the last dance I will have with her. What harm could a dance do?"
'That is what really worries me because you do not only want a dance.' His inward voice answered with caution. 'What you most want is to hold her in your arms.'
"Holding her in my arms." His entire body trembled just imagining it. It was a forbidden notion, of course, one in which he should never think.
"As if that could have happened." Mr. Darcy shook his head in resignation. "No, I will have to contend myself only with a dance."
Completely determined, he got up from the bed and walked towards the door of his room. At last, it was time to go down.
The first thing that received him and accompanied him as he was descending the main stairs, was the constant sound of the servants who were coming and going through the corridors to arrange the last details and to make every part of house presentable for the great event.
"Darcy, you came at last." Mr. Bingley exclaimed from the drawing room entrance. "I was about to call for you and my sister. Did you not happen to meet Caroline over there?"
'Thanks to Heaven I did not find her.' Mr. Darcy thought with complacency, he almost expelled a sigh of relief at realizing from what he had been saved. 'She would have taken my arm as an excuse to help her descending the stairs, and she would probably be glued to me from this moment until the end of the night.'
Mr. Darcy only shook his head as an answer and was getting in the drawing when he was stopped by Bingley.
"I do not think it will be a good idea to get into the drawing room, Darcy." Mr. Bingley warned with mock gravity. "Louisa and Hurst had been arguing for almost twenty minutes. It is all the time they used in these situations. So, I suppose by now, they must be in process of reconciliation." Trying to hide his smile, he added. "Would you want to interrupt that, Darcy?"
With the weary step, Mr. Darcy went to the windows without saying more. Silence lingered between them for a long time, but Mr. Bingley could not remain silent.
"You seem very quiet, even for a quiet man such as yourself, and a little distracted, too." Mr. Bingley inquired with worried eyes. "Are you well?"
"I am well." Mr. Darcy continued looking through the windows, and everything was silence between them again. Nevertheless, Mr. Bingley's patience and curiosity made him ask again.
"I am sorry, Darcy. But you really look strange tonight. Is it for the ball? It has not even begun."
"Yes, in a part. However, I was just admiring the sky with concentration, can I not do it?" He said in a reproaching tone. With his eyes focused with interest in the night sky, he continued. "Besides, I think it is going to rain."
"Do not tell me you too." Mr. Bingley pleaded with a groan. "Do you also have a knee specialized in these topics?"
Mr. Darcy turned around to look at him expressionlessly.
"I do not have any idea what you are talking about, Bingley." He replied without humor. "I just said it is going to rain because it seemed the sky is clouding."
"You and Hurst seemed to think the same." Mr. Bingley pursed his lips in contemplation. "I just hope it is only a false alarm. If it is not, the ball can be interrupted and perhaps ruined."
"What did you say, Charles?" Miss Bingley's voice from the beginning of the stairs captured everyone's attention.
At that very moment, all the servants in the hall and corridors stopped their actions, tensed their shoulders and held their breath in unison, each one fearful for the possible reaction from their mistress.
"Nothing important, Caroline." Mr. Bingley explained nervously. "My nonsenses... er... you already know me."
Miss Bingley did not pay more attention to his brother's words and started descending the stairs. She was looking very regal in all her elegance as she rejoiced in the feeling of all eyes over her, having everyone's attention. Well not everyone, when her eyes searched for Mr. Darcy's, the one whose attention she most desired, she found him looking attentively at his pocket watch. She almost fell on the stairs for her anger. His inattention was as if she had been slapped.
'Why is he not seeing me?' She fumed with annoyance. 'I look absolutely breathtaking.'
"What did make you take so much time, Caroline?" Mr. Bingley asked when his sister arrived at the end of the stairs.
"I had to look at my best." She responded with an enchanting smile to Mr. Darcy. "As always."
"Is all of this for the neighbors?" Her brother asked in confusion, signaling her elaborate hairstyle with feathers.
"Of course not!" She replied offended as if the merest idea was an insult. "This country folk could not matter less to me."
Looking at Mr. Darcy, she added with a seductive smile.
"All of this is only for the present company."
Mr. Darcy was feeling absolutely uncomfortable with the situation. He had always endured with patience the not so subtle looks and attention addressed to him by Miss Bingley. Everything because he valued Bingley's friendship more than any other and did not want to lose it. However, lately, Miss Bingley's actions were already pissing him off more than usual, it had almost become like harassment.
Miss Bingley was clearly expecting that he answered her flirting, but luckily for him, Mr. and Mrs. Hurst chose that moment to leave the drawing room, each one with a silly smile on their face, clear evidence that they were reconciled.
It was not too long before a servant came to tell them that the first carriages were sighted close to the manor.
Mr. Bingley, with his typical enthusiasm, almost ran to the main entrance, taking Miss Bingley with him to greet the guests. He did not realize how his sister gave him a furious glance because he had taken the chance she had that Mr. Darcy can escort her. Even though Caroline was angry, she remained silent for everyone's sake because the guests were about to arrive. Later, she would charge her brother for what he did to her.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst followed them behind, and Mr. Darcy was the only one who remained in the principal hall.
"Well, it is official. The ball has begun." Mr. Darcy pronounced at hearing the sounds of carriages signaling the arrival of the first guests. "Who knows what surprises tonight can bring us."
More surprises than he would have thought. All his previous resolution will be affected. He really did not know what was coming.
MORE AUTHOR NOTES:
Thanks for taking the time to read. Please, do not forget to comment, I want to know your opinion about this chapter. In the next chapter, it will be developed the circumstances after the incident at the ball, that means the situations after the end of chapter 1. If I'm lucky, it will not take me so much time to update the next.
Sunny =P
05/05/2017