Okay yes hello it has been over a year, I missed you all dearly and I am so so so so so so so sorry. There are many reasons I didn't update but you all deserve more than a list of excuses, so I'll just give you the chapter.
I have the next chapter planned out and I hope to update it later tonight or at some point tomorrow, so hold on. Also I updated the previous chapter because I forgot a Major Plot Point. I also now realize that I didn't re-format the new chapter with the Major Plot Point added so I am going to be going in and updating it again.
Hope you enjoy it!
The next day, Gwen was going through her music book.
I know it's in here somewhere… She was looking for the sheet that had the opening bars of Daydream Believer; she'd promised to teach the piece to Charlotte on the pianoforte in the servant's wing at Madam De Burgh's.
She had just found it when the door to the parlour was thrown open by a rather wide-eyed Mr. Darcy. Unable to stop a yelp of surprise, she leapt up.
"Are you going to make a habit out of scaring me witless?" she asked, half laughing.
He gave her a small bow, which she returned with a curtsy. He didn't say anything, worrying the gloves in his hands.
There was a beat of uncomfortable silence. "Um. Would you like to… sit down?" Gwen offered. He glanced at the available couch and chair then returned his gaze to her, the leather gloves creaking in his grip.
What did he want? Gwen had no idea what to do. Offer to make him tea? If he was here for her, what was stopping him from spitting it out? If he was here for the Colins's, what was stopping him from asking after them?
"I… Um… Mr. and Mrs. Collins aren't here…?" she offered tentatively.
He nodded slightly, pausing to take better stock of the parlour.
"My aunt had some work done on this house when Mr. Collins moved in," he blurted out. Gwen had no idea what to say to that.
She settled on "Couldn't have happened to a better guy," with only a slight smirk playing about her lips.
"I don't think I've ever… it's quite charming," he mumbled, finally meeting her eyes again.
"Yes… very blue."
They returned to awkward silence.
"Would you like some… tea? I can call to have some made," Gwen asked, taking a half step towards the door nearest her. Might as well try the other option.
"No, I'm quite alright."
Are you though? Because you're acting very strangely and I don't know what to do, Gwen thought to herself.
She was about to outright ask what he wanted when the front door opened. Thank god Charlotte was back! Maybe she could make sense of what Darcy-
"Good day, miss Gwendolyn," the man in question said. "A delight as always."
With that, he was gone, hardly even looking at Charlotte as he blasted out the door. Charlotte looked after him for a moment before giving Gwen a questioning look.
Gwen threw her hands in the air. "Your guess is as good as mine, honestly."
Gwen stared blankly at the wall in front of her. There was a painting in a gilt frame. A landscape, trees bordering a field, a small village in the distance.
She hated church.
It wasn't religion so much; people were free to believe whatever they wanted, but there was other things she could be doing right now. Like sleeping. Or painting. Or anything other than sitting on a hard bench staring at a weird dreary painting and listening to Collins drone on and on as people around her dozed off one by one.
Gwen glanced around then leaned towards Fitzwilliam, seated beside her. "That man, the big one next to that teeny tiny woman with the tight curls, he's drooling."
Fitzwilliam snorted softly. "That's not even the worst of it. If that child doesn't stop spinning that top, I may have to resort to drastic measures."
Gwen smirked. "I might have to resort to drastic measures even if he does. If Collins drones on for much longer I don't think I can be held accountable for what I'll do."
"If that should be the case, I will join you," he replied. Gwen muffled a giggle in her hand. She glanced across to where Darcy was sitting, separate from everyone else in the private section usually reserved for Madame de Bourgh. Neither she nor her daughter had attended, but Darcy looked bored enough for all three of them. Why he hadn't asked his cousin to join him, Gwen couldn't understand. Maybe it was one of those rules of etiquette she was still so lost on.
They sat in silence for a moment before she spoke again, ignoring the cantankerous old woman sitting on Fitz's other side who glared at her. "Are you staying in Kent for very long?"
"I don't know. I'll stay as long as Darcy chooses, I'm at his disposal."
"Isn't everyone?" Gwen quipped, recalling the previous day when he showed up then left with no warning or explanation. "Hard to believe a treasure like that hasn't been snapped up by some lucky gal yet," she said, going for amused, but sounding more uncertain than she'd like.
"She'd be a lucky woman," Fitzwilliam replied wryly.
Gwen side eyed him. No, he couldn't know that she was questioning her interest in Tall Dark and Broody. No way. "Really?"
"Darcy is the most loyal man I know," he replied. "On our way he, I heard that he recently came to the rescue of one of his friends just in time."
"Oh?"
"From what I understand, he saved the man from an imprudent marriage."
Gwen's blood immediately went cold. Fitzwilliam better not be talking about who she thought he was talking about. "Which man?" she asked, making a point of keeping her voice level.
"His closest friend, Charles Bingley."
Gwen had to take a deep breath to try and calm herself down. "Did he say why he interfered in someone else's relationship?" That was too bitter. Tone it down.
Fitzwilliam looked at her a bit strangely, but answered her question. "There were strong objections to the lady, apparently."
"What was wrong-" Gwen cut herself off as her voice started getting louder. "What was wrong with her?"
"I believe it was her family that was more the issue."
Gwen sat for a moment, staring at the painting across from her again. She could hear the rain hammering on the roof above Collins' mumbled preaching. She didn't have an umbrella, but she couldn't stay there any longer.
"Please excuse me, I don't feel well," she said to Fitzwilliam, carefully standing up and exiting the pew and heading for the door. Most of the people who weren't sleeping watched her exit for lack of a better thing to do, but one set of eyes burned hotter on her back than the rest.
Gwen had been planning on heading straight back to the Colins residence, but she was angry, and now, thanks to the borderline torrential downpour, she was soaked.
Her brain was running a hundred miles an hour when she found herself beneath the cover provided by some sort of gazebo-like mausoleum. She started pacing, knowing she was too restless to settle down in Charlotte's study and wait for her friend to get back from church to vent. She had forgotten her coat on the pew next to Fitzwilliam.
She'd been stomping back and forth for a few minutes, completely lost in thought, when someone appeared in front of her and she slammed into their chest.
"Sorry I didn't-" She stumbled back, the apology already half out, when she realized that she had run into Darcy. They stared at each other in silence for a moment. "Did you follow me?!" Gwen asked incredulously.
"I- what?" He looked surprised at the accusation.
Gwen folded her arms and glared at him, grimly ignoring how his yes darted momentarily to her chest then back up as his face flushed. "Did you follow me out of the church?"
He struggled for a moment before finally admitting it in a rush. "Yes, I- the past few months have been- I came to Rosings with the sole object of seeing you. I had to see you."
Gwen froze. Ten minutes ago she probably would've been happy to hear that. But not now. This guy had impeccable timing. Go from hardly saying five words to… whatever this was just when she couldn't be more furious with him.
He continued speaking, tripping over every other word before she could form any reply. "I've fought against my better judgement, my family's expectations, your strange circumstances and lack of family, I'm willing to put all these considerations aside... and ask you to end my agony..."
Gwen gaped at him. "What?!" she asked disbelievingly. Fought against his better…? What had she missed.
"I love you," Darcy said in a rush. "Most ardently. Please do me the honour of-"
Gwen interrupted him, unable to believe what she was hearing. "You- you love-? We've had maybe five conversations?! The most I got out of you about your personal life was when you were wearing a mask! And I just found out that you're the reason Jane is-" She stopped herself and looked away from him, out across to the nearby pond, clenching and unclenching her jaw. She looked back at him, hoping he couldn't tell the difference between rain and tears on her face. He looked hurt. Good.
"Jane was happy. And you told mister Bingley what? That she was just trying to climb the social ladder? How could you?!"
"She seemed indifferent to him."
"Indifferent?!"
"He was more attached to her than she was to him."
"She's shy!" Gwen cried out in frustration. "Just like you say you are!"
"That's hardly the point!" he snapped, finally losing the hurt expression. "Bingley wasn't convinced of her feelings-"
"Only because you suggested they were lacking!" Gwen raged, fire in her eyes. She angrily pushed back a strand of hair that was plastered to her face, wishing she'd put it up before they had left for church that morning.
Darcy's eyes narrowed. "I did it for his own good."
Gwen snorted. "I'm Jane's best friend and she hardly talks to me about what she's feeling! You thought Bingley's money played into it I suppose?"
"No," he replied immediately and sharply. "I wouldn't do her the dishonour. It was suggested that-" He cut himself off.
"What was? You might as well say it," Gwen said, glaring at him.
He sighed and averted his eyes. "Jane herself was very proper, but I had concerns about the… the lack of propriety shown by her family. Her mother, her three younger sisters…"
"Bingley wasn't considering marrying one of them, was he?" Gwen asked sarcastically.
"No of course not!"
They stood in silence, both upset, both glaring, the only sound the falling rain.
Suddenly, Gwen remembered Mr. Wickham. The man may have made her uneasy, but her willingness to give Darcy the benefit of the doubt had evaporated. "What about Wickham?" she demanded.
Darcy looked like she had just slapped him in the face for a moment before his eyebrows drew together in anger. "Mr. Wickham?"
"You have such a pretty list of reasons as to why you broke up a young couple in love, I wondered what you excuse was for how you treated him." She set her jaw.
"You seem most interested in the affairs of the past," he pointed out bitingly.
"And you seem most interested in being an impersonal jerk! You've always been cold and rude, and I don't know if it is shyness or if you have anti-social personality disorder or what, but the result is the same. You're a callous ass who seems more interested in policing what other people do than living your own damn life or becoming friends with anyone who doesn't meet your long and strange list of requirements! Nevermind the fact that I know next to nothing about you, why would I ever want to marry someone like you?!" She put every ounce of venom she could into her last sentence.
Darcy opened his mouth, then shut it again. She could practically see him building up the wall he so liked to hide behind again.
"My apologies, for taking up so much of your time, miss." He spun on his heel and strode back the way he had come.
Gwen watched him go until her vision blurred. She angrily wiped the tears spilling from her eyes.
