author's note: many thanks for the lovely reviews, i have a happy smile on my face every time i notice one has arrived:) i had a bit of trouble writing this next one, i had it all planned out but then it turned out that making it work in writing was much harder than making it work in my head. i hope it doesn't disappoint:)
Part 2
"No?"
Realizing that the entire room was waiting with baited breath for him to continue his outburst, Darcy suddenly felt uncomfortable in the extreme. What on Earth did he think he was doing? His brain was telling him to sit back down and shut up, but his traitorous mouth seemed to have other ideas:
"N- no."
Gone was the angry confidence of his previous proclamation and he sounded almost meek now. Just shut your mouth, man! Sit back down and put on the haughtiest expression you can manage and no one will dare to question you further. But he could not help it. The idea of Elizabeth… his Elizabeth, married to that toad of a man was simply too much to bear. Something had to be done.
His brain racked for a solution, something to extricate himself from the awkward situation and save Elizabeth from the impending marriage to her cousin. He realized the room was still stunned still and he would have to say something soon. And then, he took one look at her face and suddenly the overwhelming need to wipe away the anguish he saw there seemed to override all rational thought. He was stupefied when the simple lie dropped from his lips, with such ease and confidence that even George Wickham and his tales of woe would have paled in comparison:
"What I mean to say is this: It is impossible for Miss Elizabeth to wed her cousin because she is already engaged to me. We- " here he paused for an infinitesimal moment, his abhorrence for disguise fighting a lost battle against saving Elizabeth, "we have kept it a secret because my family will obviously disapprove of my choice, but I spoke to Mr. Bennet on the morning of the ball and he was kind enough to give us his blessing."
If Darcy had listened, he would have heard the entire room gasp in unison. If he would have looked, he would have seen Mrs. Bennet, gasping for breath, calling for her salts. He would have noticed the stunned face of Mr. Collins who looked much like he had been hit on the head with something blunt and heavy. He might have been amused by Caroline Bingley, moments earlier engaged in a game of cards with her sister, now gaping at him, her mouth hanging open, her face taking on a rather unbecoming shade of red. But Darcy did not look around. He only had eyes for one person and she was still sitting where she had been a few minutes ago, her eyes on him, an unreadable expression on her face.
Mrs. Bennet, having finally recovered her powers of speech, turned to Elizabeth:
"Good Heavens, child, what is the meaning of this? Is it really true?"
Darcy was relieved when the attention of the room turned from him to Elizabeth, but soon became anxious when she said nothing, merely continued to stare at him. The idea that she might object to his ruse had not so much as crossed his mind. He was saving her from that odious man, sacrificing every principle he had ever held dear, offering her a chance for a life she could never have dreamed of. So why did she not say anything?
And then, lifting her chin, she turned her eyes from him to the rest of the room, her voice trembling slightly when she replied:
"It is."
With that, she turned and left the room, despite her mother's orders to stay, leaving Darcy to deal with the general shock and amazement.
It took some time before Darcy managed to make his own escape and all this while his mind reeled in utter confusion. What he had done had felt so amazingly right the moment he had done it, but as soon as Elizabeth disappeared from his vision, the full impact of what had happened started to sink in and he found himself feeling a little faint. Mrs. Bennet's unadulterated shrieks of joy – what carriages, what pin money for her daughter – reminded him painfully of what he was connecting himself to by marrying Elizabeth. The mere thought of ever introducing Mrs. Bennet to any of his London acquaintances left him thoroughly mortified.
Mr. Collins, in high dudgeon over having been so unceremoniously thwarted in his plans to marry his fair cousin, declared that his noble patroness Lady Catherine de Bourgh would be most seriously displeased by her nephew's intentions and announced his plans of writing to Her Ladyship immediately. Darcy thought for a moment that he should try and do something to stop him but then thought better of it, resigned. His aunt was going to find out sooner or later, he might as well let the odious man save him the trouble of informing her himself. He could only imagine the onslaught that would follow when she found out.
But above all, there was one thing that turned in his mind while he stood there, giving clipped, monosyllabic answers to the prying inquiries coming to him from all directions. Elizabeth. Why had she gone? He would have expected for her to stay, to somehow express her gratitude over his sacrifice. But there had been nothing, no private smile, no thankful look. Just her back as she disappeared behind the door. In the end he decided that she had probably just been too overwhelmed by it all to act rationally. Was not he himself in some sort of a state of shock? No matter. They would have time to talk about it later. All the time in the world. The thought felt strangely pleasing.
Later, Darcy found himself sitting in Bingley's library. After he had managed his escape from the drawing room, he had walked around the house for some time, looking for Elizabeth, but she was nowhere to be found. Finally, he had given up, assuming that she was either in her own room or in her father's and if either was the case, he had no wish to disturb her. When, at one point of his search for her, he had heard the voices of Bingley and Mrs. Bennet approaching, he had quickly hid in the library, knowing that it was the one room in the house where anyone other than Elizabeth was unlikely to venture. He had no wish to talk to anyone else before he had had the chance to discuss the whole affair with her.
Alone in the library, Darcy tried to summon up his indignation over his own conduct, to remind himself of all the reasons why he had been so determined to stay away from Elizabeth Bennet. But no matter how he tried to concentrate on the vulgarity of her mother or the incessant flirting of her younger sisters, he found himself always distracted by other, more pleasant thoughts. At that moment, no amount of uncles residing in Cheapside could dampen his joy over the fact that she was to be his. His wife. For the first time in weeks he let his mind roam freely over all the implications those two little words held behind them.
His happy musings were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. Opening his eyes, he saw Elizabeth, standing at the door, eyeing him with an expression on her face that could only be described as wary. Was she afraid that he had changed his mind?
"Good evening, sir."
Darcy rose from his chair and bowed stiffly, feeling very awkward all of a sudden.
"I-" Elizabeth seemed to hesitate a little, "I have asked my sister to stay a little longer with my father today. I believe you and I have something we need to discuss."
She stepped in and closed the door behind her and Darcy suddenly realized that this was only the second time that he was alone in a room with her. Secretly engaged indeed. He felt himself flush a little and was glad that the light in the room was relatively dim and she probably could not notice. And then, to Darcy's surprise, Elizabeth started pacing. She was wringing her hands and her brow was creased in distress. Suddenly, she cried:
"Oh, what is to be done?"
To be done? About what?
"Forgive me, madam, I do not catch your meaning."
Madam? After the thoughts he had entertained just a few moments ago, madam did not seem quite the proper choice of words. Dearest, loveliest… But she was talking again.
"Surely half of Meryton knows about it by now, how am I to explain to them that there will be no wedding? That it was all a lie? What, may I ask, were you thinking? And what was I thinking, confirming it all! Oh, a wretched, wretched thing!"
For a moment, Darcy was puzzled by her outburst, but then it dawned on him: He had been right. She thought he had changed his mind. He should have understood that she would be clever enough to realize how very unlikely it was that a man of his position would ever offer for a woman like her. No wonder she was so upset, it would indeed put her in a difficult situation if he were to change his mind. To explain away a lie of such magnitude would be by no means easy. He should have been more determined to look her up as soon as he left the drawing room and convince her of his intentions.
Intent on correcting his mistake, he stepped closer and in a bold move that surprised even himself, reached his hand to gently cup her cheek. She stood still as a statue, her eyes as wide as saucers.
"Forgive me, I should have found you sooner. It seems you have been labouring under a misapprehension. I realize how it could have happened, to be sure I almost did not believe it myself! Trust me, I have fought against this. It was not my intention to offer for you. Day after day I have tried to remind myself of my duty to my name and my family, of the obvious inferiority of your circumstances and the reprehensible manner in which your mother and your youngest sisters conduct themselves. But this afternoon showed me that it simply will not do. All my struggles have been in vain. Elizabeth, I said I would marry you, and marry you I will!"
And then, with a sudden clarity of passion, he bent down and kissed her, before she could offer any reply. To be sure, the moment lasted no more than a second, two at most, but it seemed to him that it stretched on forever. The way his nose brushed her soft cheek, the little whimper that escaped her when his lips touched hers. His hands, cupping her cheeks, fingers brushing the curls around her face. Her hands, on his chest...
Before he realized what was happening, the door burst open and he felt Elizabeth push him away with all her might. But it was too late. In the doorway stood Elizabeth's two youngest sisters, dissolving in to a fit of giggles at the sight they had discovered, followed by a footman who discreetly turned his head after taking in the scene inside the library. Darcy straightened his lapels angrily, frustrated by the interruption.
"Did you not consider knocking?"
This seemed to only increase the amusement of those insufferable girls and it took them a moment to gather themselves enough to speak.
"Lizzy," the other one – Miss Catherine? – finally said, catching her breath, "It's papa. He's awake!"
At this, Elizabeth rushed from the room, with one last strange look at him, leaving him standing alone in the middle of the room, considering the ramifications of what had just happened. Mr. Bennet was awake.
Outside, he heard Elizabeth's mother's shrill voice echoing in the hallway:
"Hurry, child, where have you been? Your father is awake! But it is the strangest thing, he seems to have gone out of his wits! He does not remember a thing about your engagement to Mr. Darcy! Oh, where are my salts?"
