Chapter III
The Difference Between Daydreams and Reality
The sun shone brightly on his face as he walked under a canopy of trees.
There was a hand on his arm.
Elizabeth's.
She looked up into his eyes and smiled at him. They were doing nothing at all.
And having a marvelous time doing it.
They walked for miles and miles, talking and laughing. He asked her multiple questions about herself. What were her likes, her dislikes, her interests. Eventually, there was a mutual agreement (not so much in their words, but perhaps in their eyes, or perhaps in something more profound like their souls) that they no longer needed conversation. That being together was enough.
Her pale skin and flowing white dress were a shimmering white light amidst the fallen leaves of autumn. She was quite a wonderful contrast to the Dark Shadow of London, he thought.
Then they were running, circling around tree trunks and ducking under their branches. He hadn't ran like this, simply for the fun of it, in years. Clearly it was far too long overdue. Suddenly he could laugh again, smile again the way he used to when he was young, without the heavy weight of responsibility constantly on his shoulders. He was light and free. And he could very well run on and on and on, as long as Elizabeth was alongside him.
As they stopped in their running to breathe, he bent his head so that Elizabeth's exhausted, yet invigorated, face met with his own. Each of their lips were formed into the brightest of smiles. And slowly those lips began to meet as he became physically, emotionally, spiritually, closer and closer to every beautiful part of her.
"Elizabeth…"
Their lips were about to touch…
Dammit.
He was awake.
Hurriedly, Darcy rose from his bed to look at himself in the glass. Perhaps it was for the best that he had awoken. Something almost wild was glowing in the light blue rings of his eyes, and he did not like it. But there was absolutely nothing to fret about! he firmly told himself. There was nothing "wild" in his eyes. He was just…sleepy, that was all. All he was seeing was the effect falling asleep at one in the morning and reawakening at (Here he glanced at the clock.) three in the morning had on him. Yes, indeed. Nothing to fret about.
Yet that did not explain the dream itself. Darcy could not lie, even to himself, and say the dream had meant nothing or that he had felt nothing in having it. But an alliance with Elizabeth (He had long since given up the effort of calling her Miss Elizabeth.) was simply impossible. She was of far too low a station to be met with compliance by those of his high station. After his little spying session behind the oak tree the previous morning, he had recalled this, and had made a strict resolve to think of her no longer. After all, where was the sense in pining for something he could never have? But clearly his subconscious had chosen to defy the decision, and instead chose to make its own decision to torture him with the pretty picture it had painted in his dreams tonight.
But there was absolutely NOTHING to fret about! Dreams were only…frilly nothings the mind makes up when it has nothing better to think of! And what did he really know about Elizabeth? He had barely spoken to her at the Assembly. He had never asked her what were her likes, her dislikes, her interests, as he had in his dream. But damn and blast, how he secretly wished he could remember her answers! That is just the way of dreams, Darcy's secretly pining heart mused, to have you forget the things you most want to remember. But of course, Darcy ignored these secret thoughts and remained focused on the task at hand. In truth, he knew nothing at all about her.
Perhaps that was the key! Engage her in conversation! Once he really talked to her, surely he would realize that she was no woman for him. He would be hospitably welcomed home by his former way of life, and she would be Miss Elizabeth once more. Although there was their mutual opinion of rain to recommend her…
Oh Lord, he was doing it again! Contradicting himself! He had never been prone to doing that before! What on earth was happening to him?
It was the dreams. The dreams, the rain, the…partridge! They were all against him, plotting to turn his entire way of life upside down! And he had had enough.
He would put his plan into action at his first opportunity. All he would need was a strategy.
The carriage made its way down the rocky pathways of Hertfordshire.
They were to attend a party at Lucas Lodge tonight. Darcy remembered the Lucases from the Assembly, especially Sir William Lucas, the silly old man who would happily leave his wife to marry St. James's, if it were possible to marry a building. If he could indeed do such a thing, he would most assuredly hire a minister on the spot and search high and low for a ring large enough to fit his beloved castle, so passionately did he love it. Darcy mentally filed the knight under a long list of the dreaded things to come tonight. On the positive side of the situation, the list of things he hoped were to come tonight, there was only one thing filed. Speaking to Elizabeth. (He only hoped to speak to her in order to rid her from his mind, of course….Indeed.) Sir William Lucas's eldest daughter, Miss Charlotte Lucas, and she were good friends (or at least that was what Darcy presumed by their closeness at the Assembly). Therefore, he deduced, Elizabeth would most definitely attend.
For days he had been plotting how their conversation would go, what he would say, how he would say it. But soon his imagination would take over, and he would find himself lost in a daydream rather than a plan. One completely contradictory to everything he had intended the talk to be.
He may as well go over it once more.
"Eliza-" Blast it. "Miss Elizabeth." He bows.
"Mr. Darcy." She curtsies.
"It is certainly a lively party."
"Yes, it is."
"Would you care for some refreshment?"
"That would be delightful, thank you," she answers with a smile.
Here he would gallantly signal a servant who would come and offer them what he carried on his tray. Sherry, most likely. Although champagne would be far more sophisticated… Well, why not make it interesting? Champagne. After gallantly signaling the servant, he gallantly offers her a glass of champagne at which point she dazzles him with a smile and thanks him. And then, all of a sudden, the servant trips over the corner of a rug spilling champagne all over her…red, green, pink, yellow, violet….blue (He loved blue)- All over her light blue dress. She is absolutely mortified. So what else is he to do but save her from her embarrassment by lifting her into his arms and carrying her outdoors and away from the party? He does so, causing a wave of desire to rush over him. When she rests her head on his shoulder his pulse begins to pound violently within him at the thought of how perfectly they fit together.
Once outside, he reluctantly lets her down and helps her back onto her feet. Her face is the deepest shade of red as she quietly thanks him for his service. He takes her hand and kisses it, saying that there is no cause for her to be embarrassed and that he would always be happy to assist her. Her hand is so soft, so delicate, that he cannot resist the temptation of kissing it, again… and again… and again, each time as slowly as he is able.
"Elizabeth…" He is about to kiss her neck, she is lifting her chin to allow him access, they are both lost in ecstasy, and then…
Then the carriage hit a large bump in the road and slammed his head against the roof.
"AHH, DAMN BLAST IT ALL!"
Upon re-entering reality, Darcy was met with the wide eyes and confused faces of the rest of the Netherfield party. No doubt they were shocked. Darcy was never prone to yelling, especially not so loudly.
"I….uhm…" Darcy struggled to find some sensible words to say while simultaneously fighting the urge to blush in humiliation. "Forgive me, I… It hurt."
The gaping mouths soon closed and returned to their fixed polite smiles. Bingley assured Darcy that it was nothing, and he could not blame him, and he hoped he wouldn't find himself with a large bump on his head. But despite his friend's kindness, Darcy turned his face away, holding his hand to his injured head, positively ashamed of himself. Positively ashamed of his weakness. Firstly, because of his outburst. From youth he had been taught to behave as a gentleman in all companies, yet here he was, screaming like a banshee and cursing in front of the family of his best friend. Secondly, he was ashamed of the fantasy he had just allowed himself to fall into. It had been as if he was under a spell, completely unable to think like a rational human being. He had even picked the color of her dress, for God's sake! And Good God, had he carried her out of the party?
He was losing it. No no, he wasn't losing it. He had already lost it.
He was slowly and surely allowing himself to turn into a fool. But no more. All he had to do was follow the plan. It would be his new motto. Follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan.
And so he repeated it all the way to Lucas Lodge, in the carriage, stepping out of the carriage, stepping into the house, it was follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan. Until he saw Elizabeth. Then it was,
I hope they have champagne.
It took what seemed like an eternity for her to be free of company.
It was quite obvious that the five Bennet girls, though the younger ones were undeniably silly, were quite popular amongst the people of Hertfordshire. Elizabeth had been constantly surrounded by a group of friends for quite some time, while Darcy, not wishing to call any attention to himself, stood in a distant corner watching her, waiting for the opportune moment to approach her. Now, at last, the time had come. The crowd of people that formerly encircled her had finally dispersed, and he was ready to greet her.
Well, almost ready anyway.
With determined strides Darcy left his corner and casually approached her. Upon her recognizing him, she met his gaze, and he (trying with all his might to act as calm and natural as possible) gave a quick bow.
"Eli-" Damn! "Miss Elizabeth."
He could not tell by the look on her face whether she was amused or annoyed as she met his bow with a curtsy. "Mr. Darcy."
"I, uh-" He was beginning to lose his train of thought, and dammit his palms were sweating! "It is certainly a lively party." Excellent. Follow the plan follow the plan follow the plan. But was that scorn shining in her beautiful eyes?
"Yes," she answered, "for some of us I suppose it is."
…What?
"Are you not enjoying yourself, Miss Bennet?"
"Well yes, I am. But I did not think it proper to suppose that you were enjoying yourself, Mr. Darcy. After all, what reason can there be for you, a man of high society, to enjoy an affair so small and unimportant as this?" She had smiled amiably throughout every word. And yet there was something in the tone of her voice, and in the way she looked at him with one brow raised, that was one part sinister…one part strangely arousing…
Was she teasing him? He had never been teased in this way before.
He couldn't decide whether he liked it or not…
And he couldn't decide whether she liked him or not. It was as if she was both content and angry, and one emotion was simply a mask attempting to hide the other. But for the life of him he could not decipher which was the mask and which wasn't.
Unfortunately, he had no time to decide or decipher anything before Elizabeth quickly bobbed a curtsy. "If you will excuse me, Mr. Darcy," she said with a smile he also could not decipher, "I must rejoin my sister." He hadn't even time to say that of course he understood, for she was already gone.
Well…
That had not gone precisely as he had hoped.
But that was the difference between daydreams and reality.
It would have been very considerate of the Lucases to mention that this was a never ending party.
He had probably been sitting in the same chair barely drinking the same glass of sherry for an hour!
Well, that was what it felt like anyway.
And try as he might, he still could not get Elizabeth's singing out of his mind. It had been a magnificent performance. One he was convinced he would never forget for as long as he lived. True, her pianoforte playing needed some work, but that could not effect the joy and love that rang through her lovely soprano voice. Where as Miss Mary Bennet's performance after her, though flawless, was solemn and emotionless, Elizabeth's was full of vigor and life. And the way she smiled earnestly at her listeners was clear evidence that her only wish was to make them happy with her song.
Slowly he rose from his seat in order to stretch his muscles and began to walk about the room. She was so different from the high society snobs he had gradually grown accustomed to. Everything the snobs did was done for their own benefit, all they wanted was credibility, and all they lived for was their pride. Elizabeth was…sweet, kind, generous, the exact opposite of everything the ton loved and Darcy despised. Although he hadn't had the chance to learn more of her through conversation, he had been able to acquaint himself with her simply through observation. His results? She had proved herself to be everything that was kind and lovely.
Lost as Darcy was in his thoughts on Elizabeth, he did not realize when he stopped in his walk that he was extremely close to their object. He may have noticed her presence far sooner than he did, had not his neighbor Sir William Lucas unexpectedly demanded his attention.
"What a charming amusement for young people this is Mr. Darcy," Sir William declared in an overly boisterous voice, gesturing toward the group of young people dancing. "There is nothing like dancing after all. I consider it one of the first refinements of polished societies." Darcy immediately set his "Keep Everyone Away Strategy" into action by answering Sir William with some insignificant set down. He had absolutely no idea what he had said, but Sir William seemed to take no offense and went on to say he doubted not that he was adept in the science himself. And on and on and on they went with this pointless drabble of a conversation. Did he often dance at his beloved St. James's, Did he not think it would be a proper compliment to the place? No matter how insulting the response, the old fool could not be silenced!
"You have a house in town I conclude?" asked the knight in hopes of leading Darcy into a new avenue of conversation. This time, he chose to answer his wretched inquiries with a bow. Perhaps if he did not talk, the old fool would not talk. But there was no such luck. The man considered his bow sufficient encouragement and continued on, saying something or other that Darcy ignored, for he really did not want to know or care to know what Sir Lucas spoke of. Until…
"My dear Miss Eliza," (Darcy was immediately attentive.) "why are not you dancing? Mr. Darcy, you must allow me to present this young lady to you as a very desirable partner. You cannot refuse to dance, I am sure, when so much beauty is before you."
So much beauty. The rosy blush that suffused her cheeks threatened to resurface all his provocative daydreams in a single moment. Already there was a fantasy in progress of the two of them gliding across the floor with eyes only for the other, feeling as if they were the only ones in the room. Though it completely defied the plan, Darcy could not keep the little voice inside of him from yelling over and over, "God bless Sir William Lucas!"
Here Sir William took Elizabeth's hand to give it to Darcy, who would have been most blissfully happy to receive it, had not the lady suddenly pulled it away with a cry of, "Indeed, sir, I have not the least intention of dancing. I entreat you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."
She did not wish to dance with him? In all the times he had asked a woman to dance, though that was a fairly small number, none had ever refused him. Until now. And strangely, he quite liked that. But he still wished to dance with her.
"Miss Bennet," said he in a quiet ardor as he offered her his hand, "would you do me the honor?"
It seemed at first that she knew not how to answer his earnest request. But she was determined, and firmly pressed her lips together before saying, "I thank you, sir, but I could not possibly." Not even Sir William's attempts at persuasion could move her. The old knight declared that Darcy could have no objection, he was sure, to oblige them for one half-hour, at which she flashed said gentleman a saucy smile and replied, "Mr. Darcy is all politeness."
Something told him she was being sarcastic.
Eventually, she could take no more and, only after archly raising her left brow at Darcy, walked away. Despite his disappointed feelings, he could not help but be satisfied at he watched her walk away from him, graceful and feisty all at the same time. She was unlike every other woman in the world. And that soon became one of the many things he loved about her.
"I can guess the subject of your reverie."
Sir William Lucas's pestering presence had been replaced by Caroline's.
Lovely.
But he would not allow Miss Bingley to spoil his joy, and replied in a disinterested voice, "I should imagine not."
"You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in such a manner-in such society…" Blah blah blah blah. Noise noise noise noise.
"Your conjecture," he replied, "is totally wrong, I assure you." Or at least he assumed it was wrong, for he hadn't exactly paid attention…
He followed Elizabeth's every move with his clear eyes as he continued on. "My mind was more agreeable engaged.
I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow." When Miss Bingley enquired what lady had the credit of inspiring such reflections (no doubt thinking it was herself), Darcy slowly curved his lips into the smallest of smiles as he answered with wholehearted pride,
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
