As hard as Darcy had worked over the past couple of weeks to convince himself of Elizabeth Bennet's unsuitability as anything more than a casual acquaintance, few visuals could have shredded his carefully-constructed arguments like the sight he had seen as he had quietly opened the library door. Elizabeth had sat curled up in a comfortable chair before the fire, book in hand and a look of concentration on her face. He could all too easily visualize Elizabeth sitting in a similar chair with an identical expression at Pemberley or his London townhouse.
Envisioning Elizabeth at his homes naturally led to other more intimate thoughts, which were thankfully interrupted when she started talking to thin air. The things she had said had been strange, so he had assumed that she had been crafting an argument to use against someone or, perhaps, interacting with a story by addressing an aspect of the work aloud. He had not been prepared for her response, but considering that he was hardly ever prepared for Elizabeth's words or actions, he felt silly for being surprised at how easily she had discomposed him.
Did she really believe that Netherfield was haunted—and, more specifically, that it was haunting her? She seemed sincere; that twinkle that was often present in her eyes when she was making a witty observation or expressing an opinion that was not her own was absent. How was he supposed to respond to such an absurd assertion from a woman who, in most other respects, had demonstrated herself to have good sense? How did she expect him to respond to her accusations against Netherfield?
"What sort of nightmares does the house send you?"
Her widened eyes told him that he had chosen his words wisely as they were clearly not the ones she had expected. She regarded him cautiously, her eyes narrowing as suspicion of his motives obviously set in.
"Do you really want to know or do you simply want to have another reason to think meanly of me?"
His own eyes widened slightly in surprise.
"I do not think meanly of you, Miss Elizabeth. In fact, I find your devotion to your sister praise-worthy."
"So all of those scowls and glares you have directed my way have been born of admiration? Come, now, Mr. Darcy; there is no need for us to be dishonest with each other. There is enough deception present in Netherfield without our adding to it."
A part of his mind pointed out how unseemly her bluntness was, but another part asked whether he would be bothered by such honesty were she a man. After all, had Bingley not said much worse earlier with no real censure from him?
"I was not aware of scowling while looking at you," Darcy lied, feeling as if he deserved the arched eyebrow Elizabeth gave him but not wanting to reveal his true feelings.
"How could the great Mr. Darcy of Pemberley be unaware of his facial expressions at all times? Members of the Ton have been cast out for smaller flaws-as you surely are aware."
"Are you always aware of your own expressions, Miss Elizabeth?" Darcy asked, strangely relishing this odd conversation.
"Of course I am," Elizabeth asserted, that tell-tale twinkle present in her eyes. "I spend at least one hour a day practicing them so that I can present myself just so to everyone around me. Have I succeeded, Mr. Darcy? Or do you have yet more censures to level against me?"
How does this woman befuddle me so? he wondered in frustration as he struggled for the right words.
"I would never suspend any pleasure of yours, madam."
"And yet you have delayed me from returning to Jane. How ungallant of you, Mr. Darcy."
"I was unaware of your desire to return to your sister's room. If you are finished with your reading, I will do my duty and escort you back."
"I applaud you for your commitment to duty, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said with a look of mock sincerity on her face. "Escorting a woman back to her sister's room is serious business, after all. I, a helpless woman, could never brave the wilds of Netherfield alone."
"But I thought you believed Netherfield to be dangerous, Miss Elizabeth."
"Oh, I do. It is. And yet, there is a sort of method to its madness. I do not believe it will attack either Jane or me right now. I will, of course, be plagued with nightmares tonight. Jane will continue to be watched over closely, but the house will continue to wait for the right opportunity."
"Bingley has been quite adamant about having two maids and a footman guard Miss Bennet at all times—much to Miss Bingley's chagrin."
"I can imagine that she does not place my sister's safety over the completion of her toilette."
"I believe her issue to be more a lack of perception of real danger to Miss Bennet rather than overall indifference."
"Do you see a danger to Jane, Mr. Darcy? Do you believe my account of the events of several nights ago?"
Once again, Darcy was at a loss for words. He did not want to tell her that he did not believe that Netherfield was haunting her and Miss Bennet, but he also did not want to see disappointment and hurt and anger form in those fine eyes of hers.
"You do not have to answer that question, Mr. Darcy," she said flatly. "Your silence speaks loudly enough."
Not wanting to make her even more frustrated with him, he remained silent.
"Now there is the aloof, taciturn Mr. Darcy of Pemberley with which I am most familiar. For a few minutes, you almost seemed...but I shall say no more. There have been enough flights of fancy at Netherfield today for me to add one more."
"Like your marrying Mr. Collins?" he said with a slight smirk.
The glare she leveled at him told him too late of his misstep.
"That you can find such amusement in the desperation of my circumstances warms my heart no end, Mr. Darcy. But of course, one such as yourself could never understand such desperation in the first place. Someday, you will marry a beautiful, wealthy daughter of an earl or a duke who will swell your coffers with wealth and your family reputation with connections. You will, of course, not be labeled as a mercenary or fortune-hunter due to your social status even though you will be marrying her solely for her fortune, her social standing, and—if you are particularly fortunate-her looks. You will produce at least one heir and, preferably, a spare. As to your ultimate happiness, I can only guess, but as a man, if you become unhappy with your choice of a wife, you can still have a satisfying life outside of your home."
"I thank you for such a perfectly accurate sketch of my future—not to mention my character."
"What did I say that was dishonest, Mr. Darcy?"
"You insinuated that I could look elsewhere for...satisfaction should I become unhappy with my wife."
"I merely meant that you could throw yourself into rigorous estate management or glamorous Town living, Mr. Darcy. That you read more into my statement is to say more about your mind than my own."
He clenched his teeth in irritation.
"I meant no insult to you when I mentioned Mr. Collins, Miss Elizabeth. I merely wanted to convey that a woman like you would be wasted on a man like him."
"A woman like me? Ah, yes. I suppose those of us who are tolerable can aspire to much loftier heights than marriage to heirs of our fathers' estates."
Darcy ran a hand through his hair, stopping midway through it in irritation as he realized how much she had shaken him.
"Please allow me to apologize for that rude, unfortunate remark, Miss Elizabeth. I never meant for anyone other than Bingley to hear it."
"I must forgive you, then, good sir. After all, a rude, ungentlemanly remark that is only meant to be overheard by a single person cannot possibly be as bad as one meant to be overheard by many."
"I am trying to apologize, Miss Bennet."
"Yes, I can see that an attempt at an apology is being made. Since you seem to be genuinely bewildered about the source of my ire and I am feeling charitable at the moment, I will enlighten you. The fact that I overheard the remark is not the reason you should be apologizing. The fact that you insulted not only me but my entire town is the reason I am upset. I accept your apology for speaking too loudly, but I have yet to receive an apology for speaking wrongly."
"I did speak wrongly, Miss Elizabeth," Darcy said, dearly wanting to remove those negative emotions from those eyes that sparkled in the firelight. "I never should have said such a thing in public."
"Quite right, Mr. Darcy. Insults as comprehensive as that one should always be shared in private."
Frustration and desire led him to uncharacteristically lose control of his tongue.
"I lied that night, Miss Elizabeth, for I have since come to view you as one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance."
He felt immense satisfaction at the look of confusion on her face, but the disillusionment and cynicism that replaced it were less pleasing.
"I suppose a sarcastic apology will have to do, Mr. Darcy. Besides, were I to try to continue this conversation, then you might come to believe that I was trying to get you to compliment me, and then where would we be?"
Darcy's arrogant mask dropped into place out of mortification and irritation.
"There, now; that is much better, Mr. Darcy. That is the face I most associate with you. The one you were wearing before seemed almost sincere, and honesty would add a degree of oddness to this scene that I simply could not abide. You do not have to pretend to find me some great beauty worthy of the great Mr. Darcy of Pemberley's hand in dancing or in marriage—especially since he is related to the condescending and benevolent Lady Catherine de Bourgh."
He could not stop the small smile that flexed the corners of his mouth in spite of the harsh words that preceded her mockery of his aunt; Elizabeth was an excellent mimic. The idea of her imitating him behind his back stole his enjoyment of the moment and erased the previous expression of amusement.
"As enjoyable as this conversation has been, Mr. Darcy, I need to return to Jane's side. Dinnertime is fast approaching, and you would not want to disappoint Miss Bingley by wearing anything other than your best attire."
Darcy awkwardly nodded and started towards the door. He heard Elizabeth stand up and pace after him.
"Mr. Darcy, please take this if you genuinely want to know the answer to your first question," she said, holding out the modest volume she had been reading.
He once again looked at her with confusion.
"You asked what kind of nightmares the house sends me," she replied matter-of-factly. "If you read the Netherfield chapter, you will be able to know the contents of at least some of them and the nature of the others. Now I really must return; I promised Millie that I would read some Shakespearian sonnets next, and she responded with much enthusiasm."
With nothing more than a small curtsy and a muttered "Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth swept out of the room, leaving him in a muddle of puzzlement. How had the entire conversation gone so awry? He had tried to learn more about her beliefs in the hopes of understanding them better, but she had diverted his attention from that line of questioning only to give him a cryptic answer at the end of their encounter. He had tried to compliment her multiple times, yet each one had been received as if she had believed them to have been given in jest. He had tried to apologize for that unfortunate remark he had made at the assembly, but his words had-as so often happened where she was concerned-not come out right.
Even when he had practically voiced his true feelings for her, she had responded as if she had believed him to have been sporting with her. Did she think so meanly of him? Did she think so meanly of herself? Did she want him to find her handsome or not? Did she not have any positive feelings for him at all or was her aggression a form of flirtation? Was she trying to engage his feelings through dishonest humility? Had he somehow managed to foster expectations in her against his attempts to do otherwise? Had she noticed the multiple ways he had been unable to prevent himself from showing his regard for her and was now scheming her way to force him into an offer of marriage?
Not that I could blame her for being willing to do anything to avoid marriage to Collins, he thought with a shudder. After all, what would I do if I were forced to marry Cousin Anne?
His confused musings had already distracted him from his aim of escorting Miss Elizabeth back to Jane's room, so he decided to do as she had directed. Darcy sat down in the chair she had just vacated and began to read of Netherfield's history, wanting to gain insight into both the house and the woman who continued to captivate and befuddle him.