Author's Note: Hey you guys! I'm still here, I promise. I have had to go out of town a few times for work and things have been incredibly busy, but I have managed to type up more of the story and I am very curious as to what you guys will think. I think it is time for the turning point of the story, and I am excited for it. Hope you guys are still out there. Hugs to you all. Please Read and Review.
Elizabeth Bennet...
Colonel Fitzwilliam was a wonderful escort—attentive, talkative, even distracting. They were qualities that most women would find stimulating and maybe even attractive, but I found myself consumed instead—consumed with this strange twist of irony that had transpired in my life. He (and yes, I mean Mr. Darcy) was becoming almost like an obsession, filling my brain with thoughts of him. The way he cocked his head to the side when he was agitated, the way he clenched his jaw when he had an opposing opinion, the way his eyes burned when he felt passionate about something. It made me want to scream. Why was I noticing these things? Why should I care? Looking up now, I noticed him across the room, and he was watching me thoughtfully. He wasn't hiding the fact—wasn't hiding behind any pretense whatsoever. He was just openly watching me and it was disconcerting.
"He's an interesting man, our Mr. Darcy," Colonel Fitzwilliam said suddenly from beside me, and I jumped. My cheeks flamed as I realized that I had stopped listening to him some time ago, and I looked over at him sheepishly.
"And why would you say that Colonel?" I asked him curiously as the Colonel shrugged before leading me over to a secluded part of the room.
"He portrays himself as a gruff man at times, Ms. Bennet, but he is truly one of the most noble, loyal, and dependable men. a man could consider an acquaintance. He's proved himself time and again by rescuing those who need it, by sacrificing things for the people closest to him. Look at his friend Mr. Bingley for example." The Colonel pointed out as I scanned the room unconsciously for Charles. What had he done for Mr. Bingley? Charles seemed a perfectly capable man to me.
"What do you mean?" I asked the Colonel warily as he tipped up a glass of bourbon before gesturing nonchalantly with the now empty decanter.
"Well, from what I hear, Darcy freed the man from a certain catastrophic engagement by talking some sense into the fellow. Something about the woman Charles was in love with being crazy as a loon. But then, that's just hearsay." Colonel Fitzwilliam commented in hushed tones as my ears began to roar.
What?
I could practically feel the anger infuse me, could feel my cheeks burn with indignation. Who was Darcy to believe he knew about the intricacies of love, who believed he could decide whether a person was good enough for someone else or not. That's not what love was all about. I may be overly romantic at times, but I desperately favor that over being entirely too overbearing. The…the..ughhhhh!
"Are you alright, Ms. Bennet? You look a little peeked." The Colonel asked as I waved off his concern. My emotions must be flitting across my face like a damn banner or neon flashing sign.
"I'm fine. Just a touch of a headache." I reassured him before excusing myself and dissolving into the small group of people. I could hear my mother laughing, could hear Lydia and Kitty talking about a man that they had been chatting with on the internet before giggling secretly, could hear Mary as she played softly on a piano somewhere probably to escape the mass of people, and yet I continued to walk deep in thought. Maybe I was making an assumption. Maybe I was just jumping to conclusions. Maybe the woman Colonel Fitzwilliam had been talking about was not Jane. I mean, he couldn't possibly be talking about Jane. Could he?
Walking through a door at the side of the parlor, I suddenly found myself in a billiard room and I sighed. The balls laying silently on the green felt that made up the top of the pool table looked too inviting. I wanted to throw them, to break something…anything.
"Is there a reason you're wandering around my house, Ms. Bennet?" A voice asked nonchalantly from behind me and I froze. Any movement would make me explode at this point so I figured it was better just not to move at all.
"Is there a reason why I shouldn't wander, Mr. Darcy." I asked icily in return while staring straight ahead at the wall. I could hear him moving closer to me, and I cringed. I expected to cringe from distaste, maybe even rage, but I found myself cringing from lust instead. Yes, lust. I was attracted to the man. No reason to deny it now.
"Maybe it's best you did come in here." He said quietly before coming now to stand beside me. I didn't even bother to look in his direction.
"I never intended for you to feel like you needed to resign, Ms. Bennet. I would actually rather prefer you stay with the company." He continued while I took in a deep breath before finally turning toward him.
"Why should I stay?" I asked him in a whisper, mocking his hushed tones as if we were both afraid of being overheard. Or maybe we were both just being careful not to crack. His eyes searched mine.
"Because I'm asking you to." He answered unexpectantly, and I knew my eyes must have widened in shock. He what?
"What…why?" I asked him in surprise as he looked at the slightly open door behind us before glancing back at me.
"Because, against my better judgment, I can't keep you out of my head, Ms. Bennet. Because, despite the fact that I am engaged to a perfectly respectable woman, I can't seem to keep my eyes off of you. Why is that?" He asked me suddenly as my heart began to fume. He was maddening! I was so very angry at his declaration mostly because I was so confused. I saw his face lower towards mine and I let him advance because I didn't have it in me to tell him no. It was almost as if we had both been fighting too hard because when we finally did come together, it was with harsh purpose—our lips crashing onto each other with a deliberateness that managed to back me up into the edge of the pool table. His hands found the clip I used to keep my hair pinned to the top of my head and before I knew it my hair was around my shoulders—his hands tangled almost desperately in the mass of curls. The contact of his lips made my lips burn, my breath come short and hurried.
"Dammit Lizzie." He whispered in a husky tone as hips lips broke contact long enough for my senses to come back to themselves, for my head to achieve a sense of normalcy once more and I pushed away from him. He didn't fight me, seemed resigned to the fact that I looked pissed off. My lips still burned.
"You are a hypocrite, Will!" I cried out as his eyes narrowed.
"And what makes you think that, Ms. Bennet?" He asked as I scoffed.
"Even in declaring your attraction or love…or whatever you want to call it for me, you also manage to insult me. How do you do it? How do you manage to tell me that thinking about me is against your better judgment and still manage to make me want to lose myself in your touch. How do you manage to find yourself wanting me when you have a perfectly 'respectable' woman planning your wedding in the next room? I'm floored. Really I am. And, on top of that, I discover you are the reason Charles left Italy!" I scoffed as his eyes darkened slightly.
"It was for his own good, Lizzie." Darcy remarked, throwing away this pretense of using my last name when speaking with me. Both of us were past that point now.
"Just like I'm not good enough for you. Is that what you're trying to say?" I asked him incredulously as Darcy shook his head slowly. I think we were both confused.
"That wasn't the point, Lizzie." He answered as I laughed.
"Then what was?" I asked him carefully as he clenched his jaw audibly. I knew from the way his expression changed that he wasn't going to answer. I don't think he knew how.
"My resignation stands. Maybe you should take the road less traveled by in life, Will. Sometimes it benefits man to do just that." I stated stonily before turning and marching from the room—my body still heated from his touch, from the way his body had melded to mine. He was in my blood now. Dammit! Do you ever just have a moment where the world comes crashing down on you—breaks through this fantastic reverie you have going on and destroys it.