NOTES: Darcy's POV. Conversation and... well. I don't want to spoil it. I'll post again very soon, with Lizzy's POV next.
Also y'all, I'm so sorry for not posting yesterday! I was feeling sick and tired (bad night's sleep combined with headache, nothing major), but today I'm much better, and hopefully will be able to post at least once more today.
Anyway, thanks for reading, and have a great day/night! ❤️ ~Vinny
It was about 90 minutes into the two hour drive that Fitzwilliam Darcy finally had the sense to say to himself, Hey, she asked for space— maybe driving to her parents' house to bring her flowers isn't such a good idea.
But he was already almost there anyway.
And she needed him. And he needed her. There was an aching pull in his stomach, urging him to keep driving, to keep going, as long and as far as it took to reach the woman he loved.
And dammit if that was selfish, he wanted to be there for her. In good times, and in bad.
He had just reached Hertfordshire when his second problem occurred.
The town, despite being relatively small, was still a TOWN. And he had no idea where to go, or how to get there. And, to top it off, Darcy had left his (now broken) phone back at Pemberley Studios.
It was truly incredible, his luck that day.
On the way into the town, he took a wrong turn, and ended up going through a small country neighborhood. By pure chance, he caught sight of a familiar looking car— a beat-up olive green mini-cooper, with a sticker of a coffee cup on the back.
It was the same car Lizzy had used when they drove to laser tag.
His heart-rate picking up, Darcy pulled over into the driveway. The house was small, dirty, and not the kind of place he had pictured Lizzy would live. Frowning, he got out of the car, and surveyed a lawn overrun by lawn gnomes and dandelions.
Darcy walked up to the screen door, clutching a bouquet of sunflowers and parsley in both hands.
This was it. He was going to see her. He was going to apologize, and ask her to come back with him. Wait, no— she was staying to help with her dad. Jesus, Darcy, don't be selfish. YOU offer to stay with HER. Damn your job. Lizzy is infinitely more important. She always has been.
Taking a deep breath, doing a quick prayer to whatever deity may be watching him, Darcy knocked soundly on the door. Twice.
A few, long, agonizing seconds later, the door opened.
An older man with a receding hairline and yellowing skin stepped out. Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it again. The man's bloodshot eyes flicked over him with an inscrutable expression.
"So," he said, pleasantly, "you're the sorry bastard that broke my daughter's heart."
Darcy could only blink.
The man— Mr. Bennet— scratched his gaunt, bony cheek with a wayward grin. "Come on now! Don't be shy! I'm not mad at you."
"Oh, thank you sir," he said, relieved, before the older man interrupted him.
"Just if you ever come near my Lizzy again I'll break your spine like a toothpick."
He gaped at the man. "Wha—"
"I'm not kidding," Mr. Bennet said, a gleam in his stoic eyes. "Lizzy is my pride and joy. The strongest person I know— and I've never seen her as broken as when you left her."
Darcy's stomach felt like it was dropping several stories. He gripped the bouquet tighter. "Please, sir. I'm— You have no idea how much her pain hurts me. I was an idiot—"
"Damn right."
"—and I'm willing to do anything to make it up to her," Darcy continued firmly, passionately. "I love her, sir. I'm not ready to let her go. I- I'd do anything for her."
"Except give her space, apparently," Mr. Bennet remarked affably.
Darcy's eyes dropped. His heartbeat rose. All sound faded into the background of his mind. This… this wasn't the end. It couldn't be. He needed her in his life— he didn't care who stood in his way, he would—
A bony finger poked him in the chest.
He looked up in time to see Mr. Bennet sigh and roll his yellowing, bloodshot eyes up to heaven.
"Look, son," he said, slowly, "I don't discount the fact that you love her. One look and your face, and— well. Anyone would know. But the fact of the matter is.. you hurt her. Badly. She's shaken up, and needs time away from… she needs time away."
Darcy nodded, feeling his lungs constrict a little more with every word. Mr. Bennet wasn't finished. His hands migrated to his hips as he stared down the younger man.
"Frankly, Fitzwilliam, I don't trust you. I don't want you near Lizzy." Then his aged face slackened, and he somehow looked even more sickly than before. "But this is not about what I want. This is about Lizzy. And if you can make her happy, well… who am I to stop you?"
Darcy's face started to lift, and he cried out, "Thank you, thank you sir—"
"Ahp." Mr. Bennet held up a shaking hand. "Don't thank me just yet. All I'm saying is that I won't stop you from being with her if she's happy with you. And, from what I've heard, SHE is going to be the one to reach out."
Ouch. Well. At least he was honest.
His head bobbed automatically. His mouth was set in a hard line. "Thank you for the honesty, sir. I appreciate it."
Slowly, Darcy turned around and began walking back towards the car. Then he stopped, hesitating.
"Will you—," he faltered, "Will you give this to her? Please?"
Mr. Bennet smiled slightly, and raised a bushy eyebrow. "I'll have to lie to her about where it came from, of course."
"Of course," Darcy said, as if it didn't hurt.
He handed over the bouquet of sunflowers and herbs. Mr. Bennet hefted it with a funny expression. He pointed to it, cocking his head. "Parsley?"
"Yes. Lizzy… she told me that imagining an herb garden calms her down. I wanted her to… feel better."
Mr. Bennet looked at him, and this time, his sickly eyes grew a bit softer, and bit less biting. "I'm sure she'll appreciate it. Thank you."
Darcy inclined his head, and the older man gave him a little salute in acknowledgement. Then the door closed, and with it, Darcy's chance to make up with the love of his life.
As he walked back to the car, he couldn't help but linger on the pavement, as he heard familiar voices from inside.
"Who was at the door, dad?"
"Oh, no one," Mr. Bennet's voice said, faint and dry with poorly concealed amusement. "Just some do-gooder Boy Scout."
Then her laugh rang out. Darcy had to stop and savor the sound, knowing it may be the last time he heard it. It was just as bright and loud as he remembered, and it caused his poor heart to flutter just the same.
His only consolation was that her laugh wasn't as free or as sparkling as it used to be.
His only consolation (that he hated to admit) was that Lizzy was just as hurt by all of this as he was.
That meant she still cared. There was still a chance to make things right.
Now, he would have to do the hardest task of all: wait.