NOTES: hello y'all! I think I might be back for good- my brain is overflowing with ideas! But onward to what we all really like (the story!)
Btw, this is a very fun, cute chapter that I'm making as a sort of self-indulgent apology for being gone for so long. Enjoy!
~Vincent 🌺
Mr. Hurst had fallen asleep in the armchair. He lay, limbs spread out like a dead beast in the road, with his mouth open and leaking a pungent liquid onto his collar. If that wasn't bad enough, he snored.
Darcy was bothered by this, but not so much as to be forced from the library where he now sat, pondering.
What did it all mean? Lizzy.. His darling Lizzy… she had been fond of him, he was sure of it, but was he really right to push courtship so soon? She was beautiful, and Hurst's indelicate comments had made Darcy realize she may think the same of him, but.. Was it enough? Didn't Charles have a point, after all? They had known each other as youngsters, but things can change… Oh, what to do!?
His eyes searched the room, desperate for answers. The sleeping Hurst had been a great help, but Darcy could only expect so much from him… He couldn't ask Charles for advice, he was mad at him for some reason… So who else could he…
Darcy slapped his forehead, waking Mr. Hurst. "Ah! Of course!"
"Hmumfph?" Hurst asked around his jowls. Darcy ignored him as he grabbed a bottle of ink and some spare parchment.
"I forgot about Richard!" he excitedly explained, not looking up, for fear his handwriting would suffer. "My cousin— I can ask him for advice concerning Miss Lizzy! He's popular with women, he's probably been in a similar situation.. It's perfect!"
"Umhumpfhh," Hurst concurred, settling back into his armchair.
Darcy wasn't paying attention to his companion's immense vocabulary though. He was busy writing a letter that would (with luck!) bring about the guidance he so desperately needed.
Dear Cousin Richard, he wrote.
Shall I address you as Colonel now? Surely, the formalities do not persist among family. But trivialities aside, I am writing to you to beg for your advice.
Darcy's pen hesitated, lingering above the parchment, its shadow a thin black streak on the page. Then he continued.
I am sorry I have not written to you sooner. And I am sorry for not telling you about this part of my life. I had thought it was of no importance, so I kept it relatively private. That was a mistake. Now, I am seeking help from wherever I can find it.
You see, there is a woman I have known for but a few weeks, and most of those were in our youth. She has soft hair like a grizzly cub, and the finest eyes I have ever seen…
Little did Mr. Darcy know, less than a quarter mile away, a woman with brown bear curls and sharp amber eyes was struggling over a fence.
She grunted, and hefted a leg over the post. Why were dresses so difficult to climb in? She had nearly ripped hers trying to jump over the gurgling stream that ran under Fairfolk Bridge.
Usually, Lizzy didn't have to worry about these sorts of things- despite being a great walker, on most occasions she stuck to the road. But today the street seemed to be littered with people, all asking her what she was up to, who she was going to see, and if she had yet seen Mr. Darcy that morning.
She blushed just remembering it. Honestly, SHE should find out how their relationship was going, before the masses!
So, off she had gone, into a discreet field of long grass and buzzing sounds that would lead her to Netherfield. Unfortunately, it did not lead her to the front door, as she had naively expected. Lizzy found herself standing, hands on her hips, looking up at an orangish wall she did not recognize.
Well. Just had to walk around the building then, right? Surely at some point or another, she would come across a suitable door, and she could make up some excuse for her foolishness.
Lizzy felt that was a good enough plan, so she came up close to the unfamiliar wall— close enough so that the flower beds lined with poppies brushed at her knees— and began walking around the enormous house. She hummed as she did so.
The sky was a lush blue color, and there were suggestions of clouds on the horizon. A sparrow darted by.
"Hey diddle diddle, the cat and the fiddle…,"
Lizzy couldn't wait to see William again. She felt ridiculous, but.. Being without him was just as much agony as being in his company. It was confusing.
"The cow jumped over the moon…!"
Her heart beat faster when she was around him. Thinking about it now, it may have always done that. She remembered his face in the moonlight of his childhood room, laughing, whispering, teeth glinting platinum against the ivory of his cheek.
"The little dog laughed to see such sport…,"
His face.. His perfect face had hardly changed. It still made her lightheaded to see him smile… His smile… angled downwards, shyly… Grinning at a piece of paper, tucked away hidden in his lap… Scratching his cheek with the quill, face turning towards the library wall behind him…
"And the dish ran away with— WILLIAM!"
Her daydream snapped his head up, looking around. He saw nothing, only the quiet of the bookshelves, dust mites in the air, and an empty window looking out onto the beautiful Hertfordshire fields.
Outside of that window, pressed up against a wall with her fingertips leaving little red indentations on her cheeks as she gripped her mouth shut, Lizzy Bennet dared not breathe.
Was this God punishing her for something? ...when was the last time she had gone to church?
Meanwhile, William Darcy cocked his head, and listened intently for another few seconds. He could have sworn he heard her voice…
No. That was impossible. She would never be here, and besides, she only saw him as a friend.. She would probably stop calling him by his Christain name soon. Darcy shuddered at the thought. Being called 'Mr. Darcy' was all well and good for business associates, but Lizzy? His future wife should really be calling him 'William,' if not 'my darling.'
But isn't your future wife anymore, is she?
Groaning, Darcy ran a hand across his face. He was nearly finished with his lengthy correspondence (Mr. Hurst had long since left the room) and now he was alone, in the stillness of the library. His nerves were shot through. The day had been emotionally exhausting, and, almost at the end of it, unsatisfying.
He needed to relax. He rang the bell for a footman, then sat down heavily on an armchair.
Outside of the quiet library, a young woman was struggling to catch her breath.
Alright, well. This… this wasn't the end of the world! Just… seeing William had.. Um, well, been unexpected!... Ohhh, and what would he say, if he caught her sneaking around his temporary abode just after she had told him they were only friends!
Groaning, Lizzy ran both hands across her face. This ordeal wasn't nearly finished, was it? If they could just talk…
'Wait. You know what?' Lizzy thought to herself, frowning resolutely, 'So what if he thinks poorly of me for snooping around? I am trying to set things right, dash it all!'
She breathed out concisely, steeled her nervous, and turned to knock on the window pane. Inside the library, Mr. William Darcy had his coat off, and was unbuttoning his shirt.
Lizzy stopped dead. What...
Without the coat, his shoulders looked even more broad— no longer scrawny and slumped, as they had been in his youth. His chest had filled out as well, into a muscled expanse of skin being revealed by the buttons being undone with quick, nimble fingers…
Lizzy forced herself to look away. Now she really was being punished by some divine force. Or, at the very least tempted. And oh was it tempting…
Slowly, very slowly, she snuck another peek into the room.
William's shirt was tucked into his trousers (thankfully— Lizzy wasn't sure she could handle anything further) and hung open against his bare chest. His chest was.. Sort of fuzzy. She thought that the hair looked soft though, and Lizzy's mouth went dry at the thought of testing that theory. Suddenly, she was momentarily from the peril of her undressed and incredibly handsome childhood friend by a door opening in the library. A footman strode in, and presented William with a large bowl and a few towels. Lizzy couldn't hear, but he seemed to thank the man, who bowed, and closed the door on his way out.
Then, much to Lizzy's joy and distress, William sat down, leaned back on a sofa, dipped the towels into the bowel, and began (achingly slowly) to wipe down his face and neck.
Lizzy had never seen anything like it. She felt a rush of heat to her face, and the squirmy feeling that this was forbidden.
The water dribbled down William's muscled chest, and he arched his back to stretch, a cool towel on his forehead.
"Oh," said Lizzy. "Oh my."
She was so absorbed in her task of not letting her face catch fire that she didn't notice the crunch of dirt under boots coming from behind her. She didn't even notice she was no longer alone on the wall until a sharp, amused voice asked,
"Are you enjoying the view?"
Lizzy let out a very undignified 'EEP!' and spun around to face a woman she felt like she had seen before. The woman, who had a beige face and mustard-colored hair that hung straight and limp around her sharp cheeks. She was smiling.
"Oh, pardon me," she said, her smile not even wavering a little bit, "Did I startle you?"
"I, uhm," Lizzy gasped for breath.
The woman's smile remained, but her eyes grew concerned as she laid a hand on Lizzy's shoulder. "Don't worry, dear. I'm not here to scold you. I simply want to know why you're out here all alone? Did something happen to you?"
Lizzy surveyed the worry marks around the woman's forehead, and the way her lips pressed together in a polite little line. Despite this being one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, Lizzy felt no fear towards this kindly wallflower, who smelled faintly of books.
"Ah, no," she coughed lightly, "No, I'm afraid this is a misunderstanding. You see, I live on the nearby estate, Longbourne, and I was coming to call when—"
The woman cut her off with an excited gasp, the angles on her face accentuating the openness of her mouth. "Oh! Oh my stars!" she cried, "You're Miss Bennet!"
Was it possible to faint from having too much blood rush to your face? Because Lizzy was feeling a bit woozy by that point.
"Um, y-yes," Lizzy managed to say, "Why… Um."
"I'm Mrs. Hurst," said the now beaming woman, graciously taking Lizzy's hand, "But you may call me Lousia, dearie. I'm afraid we have ever so much to talk about!"