Chapter Two: Darcy House, London
Darcy awoke with a gasp. He groaned aloud as his head throbbed. Is it not enough that memories of her torment me during my every waking hour? Must she invade my few hours of rest as well? He pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed slowly. This is a special kind of torture. No man deserves to be treated thus. He got out of bed, knowing from experience that any further sleep this evening would be highly elusive.
He made his way to the one place that occasionally brought some small solace, the library. Sadly, his house in London was no match to the one at Pemberley. But there were many favorites here and he finally chose Macbeth in hopes analyzing political schemes would chase other emotions away. Even there, he saw her face appear in the witches and then in Lady Macbeth. He closed the book in disgust when the witches gave Macbeth the final prophecies, the ones Macbeth would misinterpret to his doom. Always women know more than the men and always our manly hubris deludes us!
"Gads, Darcy, you look awful."
Darcy grimaced at his cousin Edward's entrance. "If you wish to drink my brandy, I must insist you leave off the personal insults."
"All right, old chap – but I say, you may wish to ring for the apothecary. I am surprised your valet has not done it against your will. I do not like the look about you."
"'Tis nothing more sleep and less drink would not cure," Darcy said, having no intention of revealing his concerns to his cousin.
"So you said the last time I visited and the time before that. No, no, I shall not be put off longer – have you had the apothecary visit already?" Edward's tone became slightly panicked. "You'd tell me if you were sick, wouldn't you, Darcy?"
"There is nothing wrong with me a doctor could cure, nor any reason to believe Georgiana will be left to your care in the near future."
"Well, what is it, then?"
"Leave it, Edward."
"Darcy – come on. Don't make me set Aunt Catherine on you."
The look this earned Edward almost sent him back into the street. But he was not a military man for nothing. He did not retreat. And, at last, Darcy was the one who broke.
"Fine. Fine. Fine. You want to know what's wrong, Edward? I will tell you, but it will bring you as little comfort as it has brought me." Darcy took the drink of brandy offered him and downed it without pause. After a moment, he said, "There is an image that haunts me by day and in the few hours of repose it grants me, it chases me in my dreams. Everywhere I go, the vision comes: in the halls, in the library, and especially my bed. Everything I read reminds me of it. Every second I draw breath, it afflicts me. I have never felt anything like this, never had anything like it happen, and I am convinced, as I am convinced of the king or scripture, that it will never pass from me."
"Good lord, Darcy," Edward said, clearly in awe. "What vision is it that haunts you thusly?"
Darcy drew a ragged breath, then another, and another. "It is the face, the mind, and the person of Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
"Oh, you poor sot – you're in love."
"You think I don't know that?" Darcy roared. "If this torture is love, the poets can keep it! I want it not!"
"For all I've read of it, love is not so easy to dismiss. You must know that by now."
"Yes, I do – for all the good it does me."
"Have you told the woman of your torment and begged her to take pity on you?"
Darcy's groan undoubtedly told Edward he was getting closer to the issue at hand. "Oh, God, pray do not remind me of that."
"You bungled it?" Edward was astonished.
"I don't know – would you consider an offer you made to the most wonderful woman in the world, believing she is expecting and awaiting your addresses, but then receiving instead a reply that you are the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry a positive development?"
Edward whistled. "I say, old chap, that's rather past bungling it."
"I am well aware, I assure you. I made the mistake of saying exactly what was on my mind in the moment – a trait that has always served me well in the past! But she took it most ill."
"She did give a reason for her refusal then?"
"In fact, she gave four. She was not pleased I separated her sister from her love and a man of good standing, she was not pleased I had a hand in the great misfortunes of Wickham, and she apparently also found every single part of my character to be based in objectionable pride, a conviction that, I assure you, was not helped by my having spent half my proposal in telling her that I was great enough to marry her despite the terrible match of fortune and family it would be. As the coup de grace, she also mentioned that she did not love me and that, therefore, nothing I had or said could have enticed her anyway."
Edward gaped at Darcy for a long moment. Then, from somewhere, he began to laugh. "I am glad you find this amusing," Darcy said, darkly. "For I could very well decide to leave all guardianship of Georgiana to you, then disappear to the Continent or, perhaps better still, the Colonies."
"Darcy! Please tell me that was a joke of an exhausted man, deep in his cups!" When Darcy allowed it was, Edward said, "I'm sorry for laughing, truly. I met Miss Elizabeth, remember? If I had fortune enough, you and I might have been on fighting footing! I know it's not a laughing matter to fall in love, especially not with a woman like that. I was laughing because for as long as I can remember, you have always been the best at everything and usually with very little effort. You took prizes in studies, archery, horse riding, fencing, chess, and Lord only knows what else – it was really sort of disgusting, sometimes. I was laughing because this one thing that, frankly, I have never heard anyone make such a terrible hash out of is also something you cannot buy, nor can you use the influence of others to obtain it! The great Fitzwilliam Darcy at last experiences what it is like to be the rest of us mere mortals, grasping for something unobtainable, instead of having all he desires handed to him on his silver platter."
"Is that truly how I come across?" Darcy at last asked, his hollow gaze staring into nothing. "That I am lord of all the earth and all should bow to me?"
"I wouldn't go quite that far – but to those who don't know you, I can see how you might come off a bit high handed. And to someone like Miss Elizabeth – well, really, Darcy, surely you know you can't parade around a woman like that. You have to use a gentler, softer touch. Excuse the metaphor, but it would be like trying to tame a wild stallion. Brute force never works on that kind of creature, only unexampled kindness and mutual respect – and even that is not a guarantee that the horse won't kick you, just because it can."
Darcy sighed. "Well, as you have so eloquently put it, I have made such a terrible hash of things, she will never willingly come near me again." He sat awhile longer, then finally rose. "I will try to sleep again. I am for Pemberley tomorrow – unexpected business with my steward."
"Do try not to hide there forever, Darcy. Eventually, it will pass – or at least fade away and make life bearable again."
Darcy snorted. "I do not know if it will fade – nor whether the torture would indeed be less if it did. But I will attempt sleep – perchance not to dream – at least, not of her."
