Chapter 11: Reflections and Decisions

Climbing the grand staircase on his way up to his bedchambers, Darcy heard Bingley call out to him. The grin on his friend's face spoke of satisfaction.

"Are you too tired for a drink, old man?"

He had intended to partake of a glass of brandy in his chambers himself, but having one with his friend sounded very good as well. He would have time later on to contemplate the last few hours. Not that it needed much thought, for Darcy already knew what it was that he wanted to do.

Sitting in the study, they toasted to a successful event.

"Caroline has certainly outdone herself." Bingley leaned back in his seat. "I expect she will be wanting some trinket or another for her efforts, but I must say, it is worth it."

"There was definitely nothing wanting." Darcy thought of his time with Elizabeth and smiled. Definitely nothing wanting.

"My sister behaved herself, thank the heavens!"

When Darcy remained silent, Bingley leaned towards him, a frown creasing his forehead.

"She did behave herself, did she not?"

Not looking at his friend, Darcy decided not to mention the small shoe dilemma, for no real harm had been done. And in truth it had served him by way of a stated excuse for keeping company with Elizabeth out by the gardens. He answered his friend in the affirmative, but Bingley studied him further.

"You will inform me if she is up to her tricks, will you not, Darcy?"

Darcy nodded, and Bingley was satisfied. He returned to his relaxed posture and smiled. After a while, he spoke again, this time with a solemn bearing.

"I know you think me fickle, Darcy, for I have certainly thought myself in love a number of times in the past."

"You have been quite eager in sharing your feelings before." Darcy said in a droll voice.

Bingley was quiet as he studied the contents of his glass, making Darcy look more closely at his friend.

"I love her, Darcy." He put the glass of brandy down on the table. "I have told you before, all those other feelings, they—they are nothing, nothing compared to what I am feeling now. I would move mountains for Jane." Then looking directly at Darcy, he spoke emphatically. "I intend to ask for her hand."

Here, his expression changed to one that was almost challenging. When he was met with an earnest, quiet nod, Bingley frowned.

"You-you will not tell me that I am too hasty? That I do not know of what I speak? That I am making a mistake?"

Darcy frowned. "Why should I?"

Bingley was thoughtful. "Indeed, why should you?" Then more to himself, "Why should anyone?"

Darcy reached over and clapped him on the back. Bingley grinned, nodding.

"I wish you the best, Miss Bennet is indeed a woman to be highly esteemed."

"Thank you, Darcy." Bingley's smile never left his face, in fact he looked like a man who was eager to take on the world.

They were quiet for a moment, then Bingley spoke again.

"But you have gone back to being reserved." He looked at Darcy slyly. "You have been all amiability and pleasing manners the whole of the ball. Is it because she is no longer here?"

Darcy coughed.

"Do not pretend with me, old man, I may have been preoccupied but do not think that I did not notice. You have paid Miss Elizabeth every attention since she departed Netherfield from her stay here with Miss Bennet."

Darcy hid a smiled in his brandy.

"And tonight you were especially attached to her. Caroline noticed for sure, everyone must have!"

"And rightly they should, for I kept it not a secret." Darcy raised his glass to Bingley. "You are not the only man lost, my friend. If Miss Elizabeth will have me, I will be the happiest of men."

"She is an exceptional woman."

"That she is." Darcy smiled.

Bingley's triumphant laughter buoyed even more Darcy's already high spirits. Grinning like schoolboys, they shook hands.

"But we are getting ahead of ourselves, we are not even certain of being accepted." Bingley said nervously.

"I will risk any mortification if there is even part of a chance that Miss Elizabeth will accept me."

"It appears that we are on the same boat then, old man."

They both took a large gulp of brandy and stared ahead.

"Well." Bingley said. "Did I not tell you that coming to Hertfordshire was an excellent decision?"

Darcy's assent could not have been said with any more spirit.

When Elizabeth woke, the sun was well above the horizon, indeed it appeared close to noon. Not used to waking up so late, Elizabeth was disoriented. She stared at the ceiling until a giddy smile formed on her lips, memories of the night before came flooding back to her.

The brush of Darcy's fingers against hers, his nearness, his quiet company, the way her body moved while dancing with him, his teasing, his warm gaze holding her entranced. Elizabeth sighed happily, last night was a moment in her life that she would remember forever.

Giddy, she pulled the covers over her head and squealed. Her toes curled as she remembered their night.

They had stayed out by the garden for a long time. Indeed, Kitty and Lydia, with their friends, had finished their tour of the gardens and had returned to find them still sitting together. The young ladies had passed them with greetings of a good evening and barely concealed giggles.

They had been silent at first, content in the intimacy of their wordless exchange. And then Darcy had spoken softly, engaging her in easy conversation. They spoke of anything and everything. Elizabeth had found herself telling him stories of her childhood, of her favorite memories. Darcy had listened intently and had laughed at her depicting her scrapes. Then he had in turn shared his own thoughts, his own memories. She remembered the animation in his eyes as he recounted his youthful adventures with his cousin. Indeed, his whole face had exuded youth from his recollections, and Elizabeth had found herself charmed by the young boy and the man before her.

In the whole of their time near the gardens, Elizabeth had been very conscious of the hand that lightly covered hers. There were times when she felt his fingers brush hers tenderly, and then that one moment when his hand had tightened fleetingly around hers.

To any passerby, it would appear that they were just two people talking pleasantly under the stars. But what the hedge hid were two hands barely touching—yet all the more intimate for the promise it beheld.

After the last dance had played, after the last of the guests had left, Darcy walked with her to the Bennet carriage. Their night had come to a close and although Elizabeth was loath for it to end, she could not wait for the solitude of her bedroom. She had much to think of, much to dream of.

As they had stepped onto the driveway, Elizabeth heard her mother talking animatedly and not quietly, she was painfully aware that her mother had been preening;

"I declare! How beautifully my daughters danced! Especially my Lizzy and my Jane!"

To Mr. Bingley, who had stood nearer to her, she had asked.

"Did not Jane dance beautifully, Mr. Bingley?" And then without waiting for an answer, she had turned to Darcy. "Did not Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth had been torn between embarrassment and mirth, for how could a man say no to questions laid in such a way?

Darcy had smilingly answered, "Indeed, madam, very beautifully."

Bingley himself had nodded eagerly in reply.

Leaning towards her, Darcy had spoken to her in a low voice.

"Might I call on you later today, Miss Elizabeth?"

Surprised at the formal request, she had nodded.

His smile was tender. "Until later then."

Darcy handed her into the carriage, and Elizabeth had looked at him from under lowered lashes. Suddenly and unaccountably shy, she had thanked him demurely.

Thanking the stars that Lydia and Kitty had fallen asleep, for she was sure they would have been giggling again, she had heard her father, who sat beside the coachman, give the order to proceed.

She had peeked out the window as the carriage moved forward. Darcy and Bingley stood side by side, watching the carriage depart, the gray dawn outlining their figures. Darcy watched with a contemplative expression, the latter with an openly longing one.

How could she miss him already?

Elizabeth had leaned back against the carriage seat and sighed. Beside her, Jane rested her head on Elizabeth's shoulder asleep. Looking around, she saw that indeed, all her sisters had drifted off. She closed her eyes for a moment, but found her mind was too active to follow her sisters' example. When she had opened them again, she found her mother looking at her with an expression of sudden realization. Her mother's lips had softened and her eyes had misted.

"Oh my dear child, oh my Lizzy." She whispered, smiling. "You love him."

Caroline Bingley's lady's maid hurriedly closed the door to her mistress' bedchambers. She met the eyes of a the chambermaid who was about to enter the door, carrying fresh linen. With wide eyes, she shook her head.

"Best do that later, miss is in such a fit!"

Both maids scurried away as they heard their mistress scream inside her rooms yet again.

Inside her bedchambers, Caroline Bingley's vanity set lay strewn on the floor where she had flung them.

She had a task that must be done, therefore she needed a cool head. But the control she sought was beyond her grasp at the moment.

She looked at her reflection in the dressing table, red blotches marred her face. It was the curse of her coloring, high emotions were very unbecoming on her. For that reason alone, she strove for calm. She needed to control her emotions, she needed to see her plan through.

If I can not have Fitzwilliam Darcy, then neither can she.

She had seen them through the window of her bedchamber last night. At first glance, Caroline Bingley had been irritated to see them sitting together. It was bad enough that her duties a hostess prevented her from dancing with Darcy, but to have seen them dancing together and then dining together was infuriating. Curse Elizabeth Bennet with her country airs and her impertinent eyes! What Darcy saw in her she would never understand.

But she knew the ways of these gentlemen—knew that Darcy only needed to scratch that itch. Men were such predictable creatures. Especially with such insignificant country misses who had no fortune nor connections such as Elizabeth Bennet. She had actually wished that he would have it done with so that he could finally move on, it was getting tiring, really.

And so when she had gone up to her bedchambers for a quick rest, she was almost glad to see from her window, Darcy approaching Elizabeth Bennet near the gardens. Forgetting her sore feet, she had watched them. She had crushed the jealousy that made her grit her teeth, she had known it was for the best, once the conquest was done, he would finally move on. And she would be there. She could forgive him these indiscretions, for the man and his position in society would be well be worth it. Yes, the sooner it was done, the better, then Darcy would be reasonable again.

But, as the minutes passed, she had seen Darcy attempt nothing, they merely sat on the stone bench. He had not invited her to stroll in the gardens, had not persuaded her to tour the hedge maze. What was he doing? He was wasting time! Such a handsome and virile man must know his way around females? Surely he knew how to employ his charms? The longer he had tarried the more Caroline Bingley had worried.

And then she had seen it. Seen as Darcy's hand moved slowly until it touched Elizabeth's, and had remained that way for a long time, neither of them moving.

Caroline Bingley felt the blood drain from her face. No, this could not be. He had just wanted to hold her hand.

Darcy had every opportunity to lead her away, to seduce Elizabeth Bennet, but he had merely held her hand. Even Caroline could comprehend what that signified; Darcy had serious and honorable intentions towards that chit.

She had felt tears run down her cheeks, she had felt all her hopes for ensnaring Darcy melting away. So much time and effort wasted on such a stupid man! Yes, for that was what Fitzwilliam Darcy was if he preferred Elizabeth Bennet over Caroline Bingley!

She had gone to her desk and in a rage swept its contents to the floor, then she ran to her bed and had pulled at the sheets, flung the pillows. Anger had surged through her, anger at both of them for making a fool out of her.

When the edge of her rage had dulled, she had sat at the bed. She closed her eyes, she let all her anger and frustration simmer. When she opened them again, her eyes had been cold as ice.

She had walked calmly back to the window and watched the couple still sitting on the stone bench, hands touching.

If she could not have Fitzwilliam Darcy, she would make sure that Elizabeth Bennet would not either.

Now in the daylight, she clutched at that thought, gripped it until she felt calm settle over her.

It was a very lazy afternoon for the Bennet household, having only just risen from bed a few hours ago, they all took their time. For everyone knew that callers would only come late in the day after such a ball.

Elizabeth and Jane sat on the settee in the Longbourn sitting room giggling and whispering to each other. Mrs. Bennet had just left them, after such exaltations of "Lord bless me! Ten thousand a year! Five thousand a year!" Elizabeth and Jane both tried to temper their mother's excitement. They had stated general statements to discourage her from such talk.

"Mama, Mr. Darcy is but my friend."

"Mr. Bingley is an amiable man, he merely wishes to be pleasing."

But to no avail. Her mind was set, an offer from both gentlemen to her two eldest daughters would come very soon, of that she was sure.

Outwardly, Elizabeth and Jane kept modest towards the gentlemen's intentions. But secretly, between them, they dreamed.

"Can you imagine it, a host dancing two dances at his own ball! Why, if that does not declare his feelings for you then I do not know what will." Elizabeth told Jane, grinning the whole time.

"I am afraid to hope, he is such an amiable gentleman, might it not be that he only meant to be pleasing?"

"Jane, when he could not be with you, he was openly staring at you." Elizabeth smirked.

"And how would you know? Mr. Darcy had you engaged in conversation at every turn." Jane countered, smiling as well.

"Not at every turn!"

"And Mr. Bingley said, that he had never seen Mr. Darcy dance so many dances in all the years he knew him."

"He did not dance merely with me."

"True, but he danced with you twice. And then ceased altogether dancing after he exhausted all possible dances with you."

"He was perhaps tired after so many dances."

The sisters stared at each other, and then burst into giggles.

"Oh, Jane, I—I have never felt this way before."

Nodding, Jane took her sister's hand.

"I know what you mean, Lizzy." Taking a deep breath, she bit her lip. "It is almost the same feeling of being lost, is it not?"

"Yes!" Elizabeth breathed. "To give your heart to someone and then hope and hope that he will accept it, and perhaps give you his own, it is—"

"—frightening." Jane continued.

They looked at each other, understanding in both their eyes. Then Elizabeth's turned mischievous.

"Perhaps we should call on them, declare ourselves just to end this uncertainty!"

Jane giggled, imagining such a scenario.

"We will have them running for the hills with our forwardness!"

The sound of an approaching carriage was heard from outside, ending their silliness. Jane and Elizabeth stared at each other, eyes wide, reflecting their nervousness. They had not expected visitors until later in the day, this only added to their jumble of emotions.

Sitting up, they straightened and smoothed their skirts. After a while, the butler entered and announced the visitor.

"Miss Caroline Bingley."

Jane and Elizabeth looked at each other surprised, but before they could say anything else, the lady walked in.

"Good afternoon." She curtsied.

A/N:

I really loved reading your comments on my last chapter, thank you so much for leaving them! I'm glad you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

For the next chapter, I hope you'll bear with me a little, as we do need a problem to complete the elements of our story. I promise that we will have a happy ending (otherwise what's the point? ;D)

Right now, I am on a writing high. Sometimes I just wake up in the middle of the night with ideas or dialogues in my head which I note, then I fall asleep again. I've been jumping from one story to another. I hope this lasts because I feel great when I get to finish a chapter, as I'm sure fellow writers can attest to.

Levenez, to answer your question in the comments, I do all that you said:

I have a scene in mind and build a story around it. (check)

I write in chronological order. (check)

I go back and forth between different parts of the story. (check)

I'm sure there are some that prefer more order, but so far, this is how I've been writing. ;)

Please stay safe and healthy!