By the time the rest of the Bennet household arrived home, Elizabeth had snuggled on the couch in her pajamas, with a copy of War and Peace in her hands. Hearing the commotion in the hallway, she thought of walking down to greet her family, but finally decided against it. She was not in the mood to discuss what had happened at the soiree.
Apparently, others did not share her opinion. "Elizabeth Claire Bennet!" She heard her mother's piercing voice. Resigned, Liz sighed, put her book down, and walked downstairs to meet her family. She immediately took in her mother's indignant look, her father's and Jane's concerned gazes, and the curious eyes of her younger sisters.
"What happened?" Mrs. Bennet cut straight to the matter.
"What do you mean, mother?" Elizabeth replied as calmly as she could.
"What happened with Mr. Darcy?" Mrs. Bennet was becoming increasingly irritated. "Why did you leave his side at the dinner table? Everything was going so well until then! And then he kissed that classy elegant girl instead! God, Lizzy, can't you do one thing right? Running away is not the right way to keep a man's attention!"
"There, there, Frances, that's quite enough," her husband interrupted her. "I'm sure Lizzy had her reasons for walking away from Mr. Darcy. Seeing his subsequent behavior, I dare say she was right." He patted Liz's shoulder reassuringly. "And now, I think we are all quite tired. It's certainly past my bedtime." With that, he swept the room with an expressive look, and the entire family dispersed.
"Lizzy," Lydia came up behind her as Liz was brushing her teeth. "Surely you'll tell me what happened with Mr. Darcy. God, he was so attentive to you it made me green with envy. Such a gorgeous man! And then you left, and he – ew! – kissed Caroline Bingley, and I just don't understand anything…"
"Lydia, do not concern yourself with that. Lets go to bed." Liz clearly did not feel like talking about what had happened. Yet she looked at her sister's dreamy gaze, and apprehension renewed in her, leading her to speak. "Lydia, you don't know Mr. Darcy, but I do. I was only a child when he lived here, but I observed him carefully, and I know what he is capable of. He is ruthless, cruel. He attracts impressionable young girls and then scorns and hurts them."
Lydia was fifteen, and acted her age. She was unwilling to believe that the incredibly handsome man who had caught her fancy was anything short of perfect. "And how can you be so sure?" she asked spitefully.
Lizzy sighed. "I've seen him do it to a very dear friend of mine. Believe me, Lyddie," she implored, "it was painful to watch."
Lydia could not argue with such a heartfelt explanation. Instead, she decided that she would make the best of the situation and get what she had wanted. "So, what happened at the party?"
Releasing a heavy sigh, Lizzy answered: "He did not act entirely proper at the party, and I thought it best to leave his side. Seeing him make out with Caroline only confirmed my suspicions." She paused for a moment, and gave her sister a very earnest look. "Please, Lydia, be careful. And watch out for Kitty and Mary too. I don't want any of you to get hurt."
Lydia was flattered by the way her older sister asked her to watch out for her other siblings. She felt like she was being addressed as an adult: Lizzy had told her the truth, and seriously asked her to watch out for herself and her sisters. Lydia smiled and nodded. "I'll do my best. I promise you, Lizzy."
With that, the two girls wished each other goodnight, and went to bed.
The following morning, Lizzy was startled with the delivery of a magnificent bouquet of pink roses. The deliveryman insisted it was for her, and Lizzy felt no surprise at the knowledge. She was beautiful, and fully aware of it. She was used to receiving presents, and largely enjoyed them. Yet this particular bouquet caused her to frown. While there were several young men in Meryton who could send her flowers, the bouquet was clearly expensive, and for some unknown reason she suspected that it might have been sent by the one man from whom she wished to receive no presents.
'Calm down,' she told herself with irritation. 'There is no reason for him to send you anything. You scorned him and he kissed another woman, for God's sake! There can be nothing further between you.' Calming herself, Lizzy looked for a note. She found one hidden in the brilliant bow around the vase.
To Lizzy's chagrin, the note read simply: "I have behaved despicably, and am sincerely sorry. I can only hope that you might begin to forgive me. Forever yours," Instead of a signature, the author had written "whatever you wish to call me."
Lizzy cringed. There was no question about the sender of the roses. It was Fitzwilliam Darcy, and she was incensed at the audacity of that man. 'How dare he! How dare he address anything to me after what he has done! How dare he say he is forever mine, when all he is doing is playing his ruthless game with me? When all he wants is to seduce and to shun me? But that shall never be. I detest the stupid man.'
Glad that her parents had gone grocery shopping for the morning and that she would be spared her mother's inquiries, Elizabeth took the bouquet, stepped outside, and soundly threw it into the garbage bin.
'There, now no one will know about it. Mama and Papa are out shopping; Mary is upstairs reading; Kitty and Lydia are still asleep. No one will know, except Jane.' She glanced at her sister standing in the entryway and regarding her with a peculiar expression.
"They were beautiful flowers, Lizzy," Jane said softly.
"From a repulsive man," Lizzy replied bitterly.
"Oh Lizzy, I know that what he did last night was despicable, but I am sure he had a reason for it. He cannot be so bad. I think he was very hurt when you moved, and it was his pain that caused him to kiss Caroline. Of course, it was wrong of him to flirt with you and then kiss another woman, but he cannot be that bad. Oh Lizzy, I don't know what to think!" She ended exasperatedly.
Lizzy smiled at her older sister. "Dearest Jane, you are too good. You can never think fully ill of anyone. But on this point, there can be no doubts. Fitzwilliam Darcy is the worst of men, and let us think no more of him." She took Jane's hand and proposed a stroll through the park. Delighted, Jane agreed, and the two girls passed a very pleasant morning together.
Just as they prepared to return home, their conversation was interrupted by a loud, merry shout. "Lizzy!" At hearing the bright, sweet voice that called out her name, Elizabeth turned and was surprised to find a smiling young girl rushing towards her.
Liz's brows furrowed slightly, as she remembered her previous meeting with the girl: the pleasant afternoon she spent with Georgiana Graham a few days before, only to discover that her real name was Georgiana Darcy, sister to the infamous Fitzwilliam Darcy. Elizabeth could not make up her mind about the girl. She was vexed that Giana had lied to her, and had been irrationally upset at Giana for introducing her to the despicable man. At the same time, Liz felt ashamed of the unceremonious way in which she had left Giana that afternoon – literally running away. At last, Liz could not help but return the genuine bright smile on Giana's face. This girl was so simple, so sweet, so innocent, that it was impossible not to like her. What a stark contrast with her disgusting brother!
"Giana! It's so nice to see you again." Liz smiled and hugged the girl. "This is my sister, Jane," she introduced warmly. "Jane, this is my friend Georgiana Darcy."
Jane slightly raised an eyebrow, regarding her sister with an expression of surprise, then turned to the girl and smiled broadly. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Georgiana."
"Please call me Giana," the girl replied, extending her hand.
After the greeting pleasantries were exchanged, Giana addressed Elizabeth with concern. "You left so suddenly last time. I was so worried; I hope everything is alright."
Lizzy blushed. "Yes, everything is fine. I'm sorry about running off like that." She frowned. "But Giana, why didn't you tell me your real name?"
Now it was Georgiana's turn to blush. "You spoke so critically of Pemberley… and I really liked you. I didn't want to lose your friendship, so I was afraid of telling you I was a Darcy," the girl finished sheepishly.
"Oh Giana!" Liz exclaimed warmly, touched by the girl's insecurity. "I really liked you too, and no heritage of yours could have made me turn away from your friendship."
"And yet you did," Giana said darkly. "You ran off as soon as you saw that I was Fitzwilliam Darcy's sister."
Lizzy sighed. "It was not that. It's just… Oh, Giana, it's nothing of consequence! I just didn't expect to see Fitzwilliam, and I was confused, that is all." Liz decided not to tell Giana of her profound dislike of the girl's brother. She saw the softness and innocence in Giana's manner, and was certain that the girl knew little of the darker ways of the world, and absolutely nothing of her own brother's despondency.
Giana sighed. "Well, at least we met again. We didn't even trade phone numbers last time. I was afraid I'd never see you again. I even wished I could attend that dreadful party of Fitzwilliam's hoping I would see you there. But I had already made plans to visit my aunt yesterday."
Elizabeth could not help but be glad at the fortuitous turn of events. She was mortified to think of the discomfort the lovely girl would feel at seeing her brother's abominable behavior at the soiree. But then, on the other hand, she mused wistfully, perhaps he wouldn't have behaved quite so inconsiderately if his innocent little sister were nearby. Wouldn't that have been nice…
The girls exchanged numbers, and Georgiana went to meet her brother for lunch, while Jane and Elizabeth cheerfully made their way home.
None of the three girls had known that the illustrious Fitzwilliam Darcy was in the same park, only a few hundred feet away, desperately trying to get away from Caroline Bingley's grip.
He had received a message that morning from Charles's persona phone, asking for a private meeting in the park. While Fitzwilliam was stunned by the unexpected request, he was fond of Charles, and worried that something had happened to his friend to cause him to request such a mysterious meeting. And so Fitzwilliam Darcy agreed, and patiently awaited his friend on a bench in the park at the appointed time of eleven thirty. This would give them half an hour to talk before his lunch with Georgiana, who had just returned to town that morning, and whom he had not yet had a chance to see, since he had a few affairs to take care of in the office, disregarding the fact that it was a lovely, bright Sunday.
Great was his surprise when instead of Charles, he was approached by the other Bingley sibling. Caroline was sporting a bright orange sundress, which revealed more of her smooth silicon-enhanced breasts than he ever wished to behold, a pair of dark red heels, matching the large red-framed sunglasses on her spotless, heavily made-up face, and a large orange Hermes handbag. Fitzwilliam was not a fan of orange, and much less a fan of Caroline Bingley. But even he had to admit that she looked attractive and fairly classy, in a flat sort of way.
He frowned when she sat on the bench next to him, and remained broodingly silent. Caroline pretended not to notice.
"Oh William, what a lovely day it is, don't you think? And so lovely to sit here together," she put her hand lightly on his right thigh.
He firmly grabbed her wrist, and deposited her hand into her own lap. "Caroline," he said at last, attempting to restrain his anger. The weather was indeed nice, and since it was Sunday, the small park was filled with people. It would not do to draw too much attention to himself, and to create yet another scandal involving Fitzwilliam Darcy. He was, after all, only too painfully aware of the fact that the only thing discussed in Meryton that morning was his behavior the night before. "I came here to meet with Charles, and not with you. If he had no intention of meeting me, then I must be going." He rose from the bend and made to leave
"Oh," she said, feigning surprise, and at the same time grabbing his right arm to ensure that he could not escape. "Did I use Charles's phone to text you? Oh God, I didn't realize! You know, we have identical models…"
"Caroline, cut it out," Fitzwilliam said sternly. "You can't fool me. I know that you used Charles's phone on purpose. You are not completely stupid, Caroline, and I'm sure you were fully aware that pretending to be Charles was the only way you could get a private meeting with me."
"William," Caroline whined, seeing that he had seen through her act, and changing tactics. "Why are you being so mean to me?" At this she made a pout that she was sure looked seductive. Fitzwilliam shuddered.
"I am simply being reasonable, Caroline. You draw me from business with a lie, pretending to be your brother. And now you are not letting me return to more important affairs than this useless conversation," he glanced expressively at her clutch on his arm.
"I… well… William, can't we talk?" He did not answer, only continued frowning, which she mistakenly took for encouragement. "William, that kiss last night, it was so… it felt so… right. I've been thinking –"
"Caroline, stop," he cut her off. "I am sorry that I kissed you, and I am doubly sorry if it gave you any wrong impression. I was not thinking rationally."
"Then why did you do it at all?" Caroline spat out.
He regarded her ruefully. "I guess I am one of those people who act foolishly when they're in love."
"In love?!" Her eyes widened. She took a deep breath to calm herself, then continued more evenly. "And who, pray tell me, is the object of that love?"
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet," he said softly, and a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
"That little trollop? The gold-digging little whore?" Caroline's voice trembled with anger.
"What?" Fitzwilliam was too stunned by her words to say anything more, his face gradually darkening with his deep anger.
"Oh come on, William! She's a nobody… a little Meryton slut." She smirked, then added acidly, "So when am I to wish you joy?"
William regarded her incredulously. "A society woman's imagination is far too wild. It jumps from love to marriage in a matter of seconds," he said sardonically.
Caroline suppressed a sigh of relief. "So you don't intend to marry her?" Perhaps this was just a passing fancy, she thought. Perhaps Fitzwilliam wanted nothing more than to sleep with the little wench. That Caroline could live with; she did not require Fitzwilliam's faithfulness or even his love. His wealth would be quite enough.
"If it were up to me," he answered wistfully, "I would like nothing better than to make Elizabeth my wife."
"Well then," Caroline answered coldly, seeing all of her hopes crushed mercilessly, "perhaps my imagination is not so wild after all."
Fitzwilliam let out a rueful chuckle. "The fact that I would like to spend the rest of my life with Elizabeth is no guarantee that I actually will. Remember, Caroline, it takes two to enter a marriage."
As his meaning sank in, Caroline's brow knitted in confusion. "You don't mean to say that you think she'd reject you? Come on, William, who in Meryton would ever reject you? They all worship you, understanding as they well should, that they are nothing to you – nothing to us! She is a small-town nobody like everyone else here. The little gold-digging whore would be only too glad to snatch up Pemberley's CEO. Reject you – ha ha! She'd jump on the chance, knowing that she's not worth you."
"You are wrong, madam. She has already rejected me once," Fitzwilliam answered coldly, wishing to end the unpleasant conversation. Seeing the blank impression on Caroline's face, he added, "I made the unforgivable mistake of taking a liberty with her, of placing my hand on her thigh at the dinner table. I was a fool, and did not realize that not only did she not desire my attentions, but that by invading her privacy, I would only push her further away. When she scorned me by taking her father's seat, I was an even greater fool to try and boost my self-esteem by kissing a woman I felt nothing towards." At this, he quickly extracted his arm from Caroline's fingers, and with a curt "Goodbye, Caroline," began to walk away.
After a few steps, he turned back towards the stunned woman next to the bench, and added icily" "And if I hear you call her anything unflattering ever again, I promise you that you'll regret it."
