Title: A Happy Accident
Rating: K+ (PG) – cuz I can't think of any reason why this should be rated higher.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency

Summary: Sometimes we do not say what we mean, other times we mean what we say, but what happens when Darcy says something that he means but never meant to say to Elizabeth? Accidents are sometimes meant to happen. Regency, sweet and clean.

Chapter Two: A Worthy Woman

Sunday, November 17

Knock, knock, knock.

Darcy suppressed his inclination to groan in agony as the sound of someone begging entrance to his chambers reverberated around the interior of his skull. He reclined his head back onto his deeply stacked pillows and gritted his teeth as the resultant throbbing threatened to overwhelm him. More than four-and-twenty hours since his mortifying fall and he was still suffering from it.

"Shall I send them away, sir?"

Darcy began to shake his head in the negative, but regretted the motion at once. Instead, without shifting any portion of his body in the direction of his valet, he made the effort to reply verbally. "Only if it is Miss Bingley again." His hostess had made several transparent efforts to tend to him as one might an invalid, likely sensing an opportunity to pounce while her prey was lamed, but thankfully Bailey's presence had prevented any overt attempts at compromise.

The sound of Bailey's retreating footsteps could be heard softly treading in the direction of the door and then the gentle rattle and turning of a knob. "It is Mr Bingley, sir. Are you well enough to receive him?"

"Yes, invite him in, Bailey."

Darcy carefully turned his head, rotating it slowly against his pillow, as his good friend strode into the room and approached his bedside. Bingley was smiling, of course, though his joviality appeared to be softened by a measure of concern. "How are you feeling, old man? Still suffering from the headache?"

Grimacing, Darcy allowed that it was so. "I feel as if four-and-twenty families are dancing a reel inside my head."

Bingley's chuckle was moderated in deference to his friend's malady. "It is no wonder after the fall you took yesterday. And you still do not recall the accident?"

A few watery images – tall grass, dampness, blurry clouds, a pair of fine eyes widened in horror – skittered across his mind's eye, but none clear enough to be deciphered with any accuracy. The local apothecary, Mr Jones, had reassured Darcy that some memory loss was to be expected from such a bump to the head, but it was still discomfiting to know that he was missing a piece of time. Witness testimony had filled in all necessary blanks, though it was not the same as knowing something for himself. What if he had said or done something mortifying in his addled state? Darcy could only hope that such had not occurred and that his reputation was as free from blemish as his mind was from the details of his accident.

"No, not at all. The last thing I remember is Blackthorne rearing up because some blasted bird spooked him." Cursed horse. In his current state, Darcy was tempted to let the beast out to pasture and refuse to ride him ever again, but rationally he knew that he would forgive his wild mount eventually (and probably sooner than he should). Blackthorne had a talent for groveling when he knew his master was displeased with him that always seemed to purchase him absolution, if not from Darcy himself then Georgiana.

"So you…," Bingley paused, his eyes flicking to where Bailey stood off to the side awaiting his master's pleasure. He coughed a little and lowered his voice to a rasping whisper. "You cannot remember what happened next?"

"No, I am afraid not. I recall nothing before waking in my bed sometime later." Aside from the comely figure of Miss Elizabeth Bennet curled up with a book before the fireplace sometime prior to the incident, though Darcy could not say as much. He shifted slightly and his bedclothes rustled beneath him. Bingley was looking unusually grim, his initial smile melted into a more neutral line. Darcy's concerns over having embarrassed himself in his unguarded state flared back into existence. "Why? Did something happen?"

"Well...you see…" Bingley's gaze darted to Bailey again and his thought trailed off into nothing. "Could we perhaps discuss this in more privacy?"

Darcy's anxiety was beginning to rise precipitously. He had never known Bingley to hesitate to speak on a subject before, regardless of how much caution it deserved or who might overhear it. Darcy himself had admonished Bingley more than once to be mindful of his words with varied results, so whatever he was not saying must be so delicate – or so mortifying – that even his sense of discretion was triggered.

"Bailey," Darcy inclined his head slightly toward his valet, who immediately stood at straighter attention, "leave us. I shall ring for you if you are needed."

Though his valet's face remained professionally impassive, Darcy thought he detected a certain stiffening in Bailey's shoulders which betrayed hesitation in removing himself. He was as loyal a man as one could wish for and Darcy was certain of his discretion – far more than he usually was of Bingley's, quite frankly – but it appeared that his friend would reveal nothing in the presence of a third party. Thankfully, Bailey was as obedient as he was loyal and so, after a staggered moment, he bowed and left through the dressing room with a muttered, "Very good, sir."

Once they were well and truly alone, Darcy returned his scrutiny to Bingley, his face hardening into its familiar stony countenance. "What is this about, Bingley?"

Bingley, after so many years of acquaintance and then friendship with Darcy, knew better than to hedge further once his friend's tone took on that implacable quality. After a deep breath that ended in a heavy exhale, he blurted, "You proposed to Miss Elizabeth after you fell."

"I what – ?"

Darcy bolted upright with a quickness that was not recommended for one suffering from a severe megrim, resulting in a loud groan of agony and an almost immediate return to his previously prone position. Bingley had leaped forward with concern – "Should I call Bailey back?" – but Darcy used the hand that was not grasping at his forehead to wave him away. With his brow crumpled in lingering pain, Darcy snapped, "I did what?"

"You proposed to her, right there on the ground at her feet," Bingley clarified, his eyes roving warily across Darcy's expression. "She and her sister saw your accident, apparently, and while Miss Bennet went for help, Miss Elizabeth ran to check on your welfare. While she was tending you, you woke up and asked her to be your wife before falling unconscious again."

Darcy could feel a deep, offended rage heating up inside him. He had thought that she, of all women, would be different; that Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be too good, too moral, to try and entrap him while he was unable to defend himself. Instead, she was just the same as her grasping, scheming, money-hungry mother, only all the more dangerous because she hid her intentions behind a pair of fine eyes and beguiling kindness! Well, he would not become her victim, no matter how much she attracted his wandering gaze!

"And I suppose she told you this?" he spat once his anger had boiled high enough to spew out of him. He could feel his teeth baring into a feral sneer, his brows drawn together into a fierce scowl, and directed this terrible expression at the messenger who had brought him the crushing news that his Elizabeth was not what she had seemed.

Instead of flinching away, Bingley returned Darcy's expression in kind. It was quite alarming to see Bingley so fierce and Darcy might have reacted to the change in his friend had he not already been so very furious himself. "No, as a matter of fact, I witnessed it myself. You said 'Elizabeth, be my wife,' or something very like it, and then kissed her. Or kissed her first...I do not recall which, but it matters not. Miss Bennet was right beside me."

Darcy's rage melted into a puddle of astonishment. In his feeble state, had he willingly ensnared himself in her trap?

"And...and I suppose that her father wishes to speak to me about this?" Darcy surmised, rather weakly.

Bingley huffed at his friend, still agitated, and crossed his arms over his chest. "You continue to do Miss Elizabeth a great disservice, Darcy. Though she could have pressed for a more formalized engagement – you did compromise her, after all, and there were witnesses to testify on her behalf – she graciously released you from any obligation due to your...altered state. She further requested that I not mention this to anyone, not even her father, to prevent the situation from getting any more out of hand. Far from trying to catch you, Darcy, Miss Elizabeth has been nothing but generous considering the circumstances."

Darcy slumped back into the plush of his bedding, almost entirely disregarding the throbbing stab of pain created by this motion. Far from being less than he had believed, Elizabeth turned out to be even more perfect than he had originally thought. His heart began to pound, the rhythm repeated in dull thuds within his cranium, as the recognition of her true kindness and integrity unleashed the feelings he had been desperately attempting to repress since her arrival at Netherfield.

Darcy was in love with Elizabeth Bennet.

"And that brings me to what I really came here to discuss with you," Bingley said after a long stretch of pondering silence. Darcy, his face slackened in wonder, turned to face his unusually serious friend. "I know that Miss Elizabeth has released you, but will you stand by the proposal?"

o0o

Tuesday, November 19

It had not taken all night for Darcy to decide on his course of action, but the excruciating pounding in his head had not abated in time for him to render a more formal proposal forthwith. In fact, by the time Bingley had paid his visit to Darcy's guest chambers to question him about his further intentions, the Bennet sisters had already returned to Longbourn and the bosom of their hideous family, escorted thither immediately after church services on Sunday as had been the agreement prior to the...events of Saturday. Thus, after recuperating for the remainder of the Lord's Day and attending to necessary business on Monday – including an express letter to his solicitor in Town to request a marriage settlement written up post haste and another to Mrs Reynolds at Pemberley with instructions to retrieve his grandmother Darcy's ring from the vault in his study – Tuesday was determined as the best opportunity to visit the estimable lady to whom he would more officially offer his hand.

Bingley had graciously agreed to accompany his friend to Longbourn for what he termed as "moral support" but which Darcy recognized as a transparent ploy to pay a visit to the elder sister. It seemed that the Bingleys as a whole were almost entirely lacking in subtlety, no matter how much they believed they excelled at it. At least Bingley also had an invitation to issue for an upcoming ball at Netherfield to legitimize his part in the excursion.

"Do you know what you are going to say to Miss Elizabeth?" Bingley asked by way of making conversation as their horses plodded along the rather muddy lane that led from Netherfield, through Meryton and to their ultimate destination of the Bennet family homestead.

Darcy was astride Blackthorne, despite his mount's recent dishonorable behavior, and keeping him tightly reined in lest another unexpected fright and fall finish his master off. The stallion hung his head low as they walked at a slow pace and Darcy suspected that he felt guilty – or perhaps petulant – over his transgression.

"I thought I would begin by thanking her for rendering aid after my accident," Darcy said by way of reply, "and then declare how much I ardently admire and love her."

Bingley was either nodding along or the motions of his own horse, a gentle gray mare, were causing his head to bob up and down with each step. "A good start, I think. Dare I hope there is more to it than that?"

"Of course." Darcy dipped his head slightly so that a sharp shaft of sunlight was not so directly stabbing him in the eye. Most of his aches and pains had resolved themselves with rest and powders from Mr Jones, but his megrim would occasionally flare back up under the right stimuli and strong light was foremost amongst these instigators. He tipped the brim of his beaver forward slightly to increase the amount of shade it provided. "Once I have assured her of the violence of my affections, I will relate to her the steadiness of them by detailing my struggles in regards to the comparative disparities of our ranks, fortunes and general importance in the world. It will be a degradation to me, of course, but Miss Elizabeth with her kindness, integrity and beauty will be worth the hassle created by my relatives and higher society. She will not doubt for a moment that I – what is the matter, Bingley?"

Darcy, belatedly realizing that his friend had stopped in the middle of the road some yards back, turned Blackthorne back in the direction from which they had come to inquire as to why their progression had suddenly halted. Bingley was sitting straight up in his saddle as if petrified, his eyebrows raised so high as to be hidden beneath the brim of his hat and his mouth slackened in what Darcy interpreted as horror. "Are you daft, Man? You are not actually going to say that to Miss Elizabeth, are you?"

His own brows furrowing together in the center of his forehead, Darcy gruffly responded, "Why should I not? I would think a woman such as Miss Elizabeth, one who comes from a lowly upbringing and with barely a penny to her name, would appreciate how I have overcome numerous scruples which have, until now, prevented my forming any serious design on her. She is a rational creature and will surely be honored by how much I have had to conquer in order to make her an offer."

Bingley's expression slowly morphed into one of revulsion as Darcy delivered his speech, spoken with the haughty self-assurance for which he was famous amongst the present neighborhood, and seemed to grapple with what to say in rebuttal. "You...you cannot say those things in a marriage proposal! Not unless you are hoping the lady will reject you." A look of horrified understanding came over Bingley as he further accused, "Is that it? You hope she will refuse you so that you do not have to marry her after all? If that be the case, Darcy, I must say – "

"Of course not!" Darcy snapped, cutting off whatever offensive thing his friend was about to say next. Really! Bingley thought so little of him that he could misunderstand Darcy's intentions so thoroughly? "Were that the case, I could simply leave well enough alone. Miss Elizabeth has already offered me a graceful exit and all I need do is accept it were that my inclination. I would not propose marriage to a lady with the intention of making her hate me enough to reject my suit. What sort of heartless scoundrel do you take me for, Bingley?"

Though it was difficult to discern in the shadow of Bingley's beaver, Darcy thought he saw his friend flush slightly at the admonition. In a more conciliatory tone, his friend ventured, "Then why say such insulting things if you intend her to accept your offer?"

Darcy straightened his spine and hardened his features, his indignation not yet fully abated. "A woman like Miss Elizabeth Bennet would be a fool to reject an honorable proposal from a man ten times her consequence, no matter how it was delivered."

"I will not dispute that," Bingley grudgingly admitted, "but there is no cause to abuse her while simultaneously declaring your undying love and devotion. She would become confused, at best, and more likely very angry as any rational creature naturally would. No one wishes to be told that they are inferior to another, even – perhaps especially – when it is true. And to demean her family, whom she has shown overt fondness for, would only compound the sin and she would despise you for it."

Darcy had not considered it in those terms. He had expected that his declaration of love and adulation would be bolstered by the struggle he had overcome in order to deliver it. However, Bingley made a fair point regarding the delicate nature of their comparative worth in the eyes of society; Darcy was, against all measures weighed by the ton, the more eminent person between the pair of them, but it did not necessarily follow that Elizabeth was without worth. She was lively, witty and charming in a way that his own personality lacked and, therefore, more likable. Beyond these superficial qualities of temperament, she was also innately kind, generous, patient, honorable, loyal and honest – all proven just in the past week she had spent at Netherfield tending her sister and, more telling, her integrity in the face of what had to have been a tempting opportunity. Her refusal to entrap him in a marriage that she must have supposed he would not want due to their social disparity only reinforced his belief in her overall goodness and suitability as a wife. Were it not for the material trappings of a judgmental society, Darcy would have been happy to take Elizabeth to wife for the sheer pleasure of it.

Further, Darcy felt that, in matters concerning the fairer sex, he must concede authority to Bingley who had had more paramours than Darcy had servants (at least in his London establishment). He was far more familiar with the ways of flattery, having been forced to develop them of a necessity due to his status as the son of a tradesman. Had he not been more amiable than Darcy generally bothered to be, he would not have been accepted anywhere and his hunt for a proper wife would have been over before it had begun.

"Very well," Darcy said at length, having pondered his friend's argument before responding. "What do you suggest?"

Bingley's shoulders relaxed and he nudged his horse into motion again with a kick of his heels into her flanks. "For starters, make no mention of Miss Elizabeth's status – you are a gentleman, she is a gentleman's daughter, so you are equals."

Technically true. "Go on."

"Secondly, do not insult her family. It is quite apparent that both Miss Elizabeth and her elder sister are well aware of their faults; you can see it in the way they try to improve their manners at social occasions. To point it out directly would be mortifying to her."

The contrast between the two eldest daughters and the rest of their immediate relations was stark, so Darcy could easily concede that this must be the case. "Very well. Anything else?"

"Yes. Finally, do not focus on any of the reasons that you should not marry Miss Elizabeth, but instead emphasize those that make you want to. Make her feel not as if you are condescending to ask, but rather that she is granting you the honor of her acceptance."

Darcy frowned and raised an objection. "I am not inclined to flattery, Bingley, as it tends toward dishonesty and disguise of every sort is my abhorrence. I am not ashamed of my feelings – they are natural and just! Can you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of her connections? To congratulate myself on the hope of relations whose condition in life is so decidedly beneath my own?"

Bingley rolled his eyes around in a full, dramatic rotation to express his exasperation. "No, of course not, but is there anything to gain by insulting her? There is honesty in your affection for her, is there not?"

"Of course there is!"

"Then do not slight her for things that she cannot help!" Bingley raised his voice a touch to be heard over Darcy's interruption. "I assure you that she is not unaware of the disparity between you nor is she ignorant of the honor your proposal grants her; to belabor the point is crude and ungentlemanly."

Darcy's jaw tightened at Bingley's recrimination. He had been trained since he was a small lad in short pants in all aspects of gentlemanly behavior and prided himself on being one in all circumstances. It shamed him that he had not considered that the mode of his declaration might be considered otherwise by the object of it.

"Very well, I concede the point," Darcy grumbled, invoking a relieved smile in his friend.

"Most excellent, my friend!" Bingley praised as the outskirts of the small village of Meryton appeared around the bend in the road. "Oh, but one last piece of advice; do not scowl at her when you make your offer. Women prefer a more friendly aspect."

Author's Note: And so the plot thickens…

Admittedly, I had a lot of fun imagining Bingley giving Darcy proposal tips as I was pounding out the plot. He might not be as clever as his friend, but I get the feeling that Bingley would be a good wing man in this instance. Darcy clearly needed SOMEONE to tell him "are you out of your mind?" in the original. Weirdly, I guess this means that, between the two of them, Bingley has all the "street smarts" (which is also a riotously funny concept).

Think Darcy will have more success with Bingley's advice in mind? We shall see…

Until next time!

Next Update: March 15, 2020 (my daughter's 4th birthday!)
Expected Completion Date: May 10, 2020 (Mother's Day)

– MrsMarySmythe