Author's Notes: Well, I've finally updated this story. I hope all those who read, enjoy.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy was many things, but never was he nervous. There were certain things that he was expected to do to uphold the Darcy family name, such as affability to the poor, and kindness to his tenants, but no one had ever had the inclination to inform him that slighting his neighbors would be a grievous mistake.
Only now when he had a new wife in his home to impress did he feel the error of his solitary ways, realizing most acutely that one spring ball was less than likely to make up for almost a decade of negligence on his part. He could see his future before him, filled with balls, parties, and picnics until the end of his days. His home which had through the years, become a refuge away from the bores of town, would become a funhouse filled with music and drinking and people whose pride he had wounded once in the past that he neither liked nor admired.
And so would be calendar for the entirety of his future existence, all for his darling Elizabeth's happiness, who would undoubtedly have great joy in his sufferings, completely unaware of the pain that being much in the company of his large acquaintance would bring.
He would not admit he was nervous. No, he was not nervous for himself, but for her. He did not know what he would do if she was slighted by anyone. His greatest wish apart from Elizabeth and his sister from becoming great friends was for Elizabeth to be happy in her new home. Mr. Darcy was a man of great courage, and if making his wife happy meant braving the neighbors, then so be it. He was not nervous.
Therefore, despite a hundred things niggling at his mind as to why he should not host a celebratory ball at his home, the carefully written invitations were sent, and the white soup was made. April was of course, not the best month to be gathering friends for an out-of-doors foray, the weather as unpredictable as his behavior was fastidious. If the circumstances had not been so decidedly delicate, he would have waited another two months at least, but he knew now when no one had come to call upon his return to the neighborhood, that like anyone else these people had their pride, which he had wounded to such an extent that he was not sure if he would ever be able to heal the breech.
And so the day came that the picnic was to be. He stood next to his wife outside the doors of Pemberly, pleased to note that she was looking remarkably beautiful that morning, wearing a lavender silk gown that displayed her new found finery and wealth, but did not flaunt it.
Georgiana was also looking lovely, and not as terribly horrified of the whole idea as he would normally suspect. Admittedly, her eyes were still somewhat skittish and her complexion a tad pale, but she was talking and smiling and at least attempting to act like she was perfectly at ease, which was a large improvement. Fitzwilliam Darcy added that fact to one of the many reasons why having Elizabeth Bennet in his life was in fact a very smart thing to do.
As the carriages box, chaise, phaeton, curricle and the occasional cabriolet, rounded the drive Mr. Darcy did his best not to bolt on spot. His mind was eagerly telling him to run like the wind, but his legs were telling him to stay firmly planted to the ground. It resulted in a mild civil war going on inside his body in which neither side seemed to be prevailing. Elizabeth, with a teasing smile gracing her lips, placed a gloved hand on his arm.
"Fitzwilliam," she said in a low whisper, "do try and stop this jittery dance of yours. It is making your sister quite uneasy. And makes you look rather foolish, I confess."
Fitzwilliam took a sidelong glance at Georgiana, noting the fact that she did look somewhat distressed. Whether it was from his odd behavior or the approaching carriages he had yet to tell.
When the first coach pulled up to the drive and halted, he let out a sigh of relief at its passengers. Mr. and Mrs. Dansburry had long been his good friends and childhood playmates. He had not seen him since before he had gone to Netherfield, but his and their delight upon the meeting was profound.
"Good God Fitz." Cried Mr. Dansburry hoping down from the yellow phaeton he drove to assist his lady, "It has been over a year since we last met at least!"
"Indeed," replied Mr. Darcy smiling pleasantly, and sending his wife a furtive glance, "and in that year much has happened."
"Amen to that," replied Mr. Dansburry turning his back to the host to help his wife in a more proper fashion.
Once they both had their feet on the ground, Mr. Darcy made the proper introductions. "Mr. Dansburry, Mrs. Dansburry, I fear you are not acquainted with my wife?" Turning to said wife he said, "Mrs. Darcy, allow me to present Mr. And Mrs. Dansburry of Dansburry Hill."
In return they bowed and curtsied and she curtsied in reply. "It is a great pleasure to meet you both. Mr. Darcy had often talked of the delights of his home, but I believed he lacked much generosity when it came to the society I would find here."
"Ah yes, but Mr. Darcy is not known to be one for meaningless flattery. It is customary of course for us, to admire and praise each other when we meet, because that is what the structure of England's society tells us to do, but Mr. Darcy, he is unique." Mrs. Dansburry replied.
"You speak in the voice of a philosopher Ma'm." Said her husband laughingly.
"And had I been born a man, philosophy would have surly been my lot. I would have traveled the world to explain my teachings in the same manner of Aristotle or Socrates." Mrs. Dansburry responded with a slow easy smile.
"Surly though," Mrs. Darcy said easing her way into the conversation, "philosophy can not be truly sectionalized to any sex, or any person. Any person who can think and reflect can philosophize." Glancing at her quiet sister-in-law she added, "Wouldn't you agree Miss Darcy?"
Georgiana, somewhat taken aback by being prevailed upon to speak, (Fitzwilliam had never thought to do that to draw her into a conversation!) was at a loss as to what to say for a moment before replying, "I'm q-quite sure that all the great known philosophers have been men."
She was thankfully saved however with the arrival of more carriages, and more introductions. As the party grew much larger, and a bustle of activity surrounded her brother and sister-in-law, she allowed herself to slip into the shadows and watch what was to unfold.
Unfortunately for her what was to unfold could possibly be too mortifying to look at, even from a very far distance. Such as the window from her bedchamber.
Author's Notes:
Reviews are fickle things,
sometimes they are kind;
and once in a while, they will really blowmy mind!
However I feel obliged
to remind myself while there's time;
that if I don't write my stories well, no one will think it's worth a dime!
So please, let me know what you thought!