Title: Miss Bingley's Herbal Tea
Setting: Regency
Rating: T
Chapters: 3/17 (PIP)
Blurb: Mr Darcy doesn't want to drink Miss Bingley's new disgusting, sketchy, ancient-super-secret-recipe herbal tea. Lizzy does instead.
I would be very happy if you could let me know about any spelling or grammar mistakes :) Thanks and enjoy the chapter!
"Lizzy, I assure you that I feel perfectly fine. And I insist that you go rest." Said Jane in an unusually firm tone.
After leaving Mr Darcy in the breakfast room, Elizabeth had gone to visit her sister, finding her awake and lucid. It was a relief after such a restless night.
"Jane, you are the one who is ill, not I. Would you like some more milk? I can call for a maid—"
"I am fine, Lizzy. I know that you are only saying that you are alright to not make me worry. I doubt you even slept half an hour last night."
Elizabeth sighed. "It is not that, Jane. I'm not tired." It was true. She had been exhausted when she had gone down to breakfast but eating had somehow revived her. Now she felt vigil and warm. "I only wish to take care of you."
"You have been taking care of me ever since you arrived at Netherfield, Lizzy. The only way you can continue to do that right now is by taking care of yourself." Elizabeth jolted at the memory of Mr Darcy expressing the same thought not ten minutes before. "Please, Elizabeth. Go to sleep."
With these words, Jane gently shooed her sister out of the room.
Elizabeth truly didn't feel tired. She felt certain that going to bed now would only end up in her lying awake for hours. But she recognized that she had not had a moment of peace ever since arriving to Netherfield, constrained by Jane's sickness and Miss Bingley's venom. Since Jane so insisted that she spend some time on her own, Elizabeth decided that taking a walk was her best alternative. Some mindless wandering about the grounds would not be unwelcome. And she would also pick some flowers for Jane, just to not feel completely selfish.
Elizabeth had to suddenly stop going down the stairs and grab the bannister as a burst of heat swept through her. She fanned herself with a hand. Yes, a walk in the autumnal air was exactly what she needed.
Elizabeth arrived in the hall still feeling flushed but without any further accidents. She had started to put on her gloves and bonnet when she heard voices approaching from a corridor. It was Mr and Mrs Hurst, who were making their way to the breakfast room.
Wondering if she should make her presence known or not, Elizabeth ended up eavesdropping on part of their conversation.
"I don't understand, Louisa. If you are so worried about this, then why did you not take the tea away from her?"
Mrs Hurst sighed. "I didn't think she was truly going to act upon her threats. And I can not make Netherfield's whole tea reserve disappear overnight."
"But if there will be a compromise as you suspect— No matter. She is not so foolish as to try something while the Bennet sisters are staying under this roof."
"She is doing this exactly because they are at Netherfield!"
"She wants witnesses to the arrangement?"
"Witnesses to our shame, you mean. She finally found the resolve to do it after Mr Darcy asked Miss Eliza for a reel, yesterday."
Hearing the voices getting too close for her liking, Elizabeth slipped out of the front door, careful to go unnoticed.
She rushed through Netherfield's walkway, thinking back on what she had just heard: Miss Bingley was going to compromise Mr Darcy.
Her first reaction was to smirk: how could Miss Bingley even think that she would be able to seduce him? Mr Darcy, the most standoffish man of her acquaintance!
Still, a compromise was a serious matter, not a humorous one. Entire lives would be changed by it. Elizabeth tried to recompose herself and think of a course of action. Should she warn Mr Darcy? This time, Elizabeth could not help bursting into laughter, imagining how such a conversation would go.
The Hursts had given no indication that the compromise was going to happen immediately (and didn't compromises usually happen with night's complicity?) so, for the present, she resolved to simply enjoy her walk. Later, she would recount the conversation to Jane and together they would decide what to do. There was always the possibility that she had misunderstood their discourses. After all, what role could tea play in a compromise?
And what had Mrs Hurst meant by saying "Mr Darcy asked Miss Elizabeth for a reel"? It was not at all what had happened. How could Miss Bingley have misunderstood the situation so far as to consider Elizabeth a threat to her matrimonial aims? Was the woman jealous of Mr Darcy's repeated attempt at belittling her, perhaps?
While Elizabeth's mind was busy considering whether Miss Bingley was as delusional as her mother, her hands were occupied by the more agreeable task of picking flowers for Jane. They had visited Netherfield Park many times during their childhood, while the house was let by another family, so she still remembered where to find the autumnal wildflowers that Jane preferred.
It was a strenuous activity and she was surprised at how quickly she had found herself out of breath. She straightened, feeling an unjustified liquid hotness cursing through her neck and cheeks. Could she have caught Jane's cold? Elizabeth put a hand to her forehead but could not make an estimation of her temperature. She added light-headedness to the list of symptoms.
Perhaps it was better to turn around and go back to Netherfield. She had not ventured far through the fields, the house was still well visible from her position. She gathered her flowers and started on the way back.
If she had caught a cold, then she and Jane would probably have to stay at Netherfield for another week. Her mother would be happy but Miss Bingley would hate them and Mr Bingley… Well, she didn't know, but Mr Darcy—
Mr Darcy's dark eyes bore into her mind with the suddenness of lightning and she shivered.
It was not a shiver of disgust, she realized. Nor was she shivering from the cold. Suddenly her warmth had transformed into a stream of torridness that burned a scorching path from her toes to the ends of her air, overpowering her reason.
A sharp intake of breath made her understand what all of that meant. She recognized the ache, the longing, but she had never felt it with such intensity before.
Elizabeth knew that she could not stay where she was: anyone could happen upon her there.
Before completely surrendering to the urgings of her body, Elizabeth dropped the flowers, picked up her gowns and ran through the open fields, anywhere but away from Netherfield Park.
Elizabeth Bennet knew desire.
Her mother had had a long conversation about it with her and Jane before their first ball, many years before, about how they were going to experience some strange stirrings when around men and how to suffocate them as a gentlewoman needed to. It had been an uncomfortable conversation, but a rather useful one in the years to come.
That said, Elizabeth Bennet knew desire and how to manage it.
But this! This was more intense, more dazzling, more ferocious than anything she had ever experienced. And she could not understand how it had come to be.
She stumbled upon a tree and clang to it for dear life, while the other hand went to graze her collarbones, her breathing erratic.
It had never happened like this. So… Sudden and vivid. She had always been able to remain controlled until she was back in the privacy of her room.
Oh, what she would give to be back at Longbourn!
She forced herself to keep walking. Finally, she found herself far enough from the house to consider herself safe. The only thing to do now was to wait for her passions to subside and become manageable, hopefully as quickly as they had come.
Elizabeth tried to distract herself by looking at her surroundings. She was near the old elm. She remembered how, many years before, the neighbourhood had enjoyed picnics and games of cricket organized by the family that had been renting Netherfield at the time — yes, yes, it was working. She could already feel her breathing slow down. She had to continue on that path — Could Mr Bingley be persuaded to resume the tradition? Of course yes, he was so cheerful and friendly. But Mr Darcy was probably going to be against the plan.
No, no, no, she should not think of Mr Darcy! It was thinking of him that had made it all start, she could not let all her progress slip through her fingers by thinking of him and… His hands… and forearms…
No, I shall conquer this! I will not have Jane set up a search party for me. Breathe, Elizabeth. Breathe. Elizabeth put a hand on her chest and drew a deep, trembling breath trying to regain her composure. Stop thinking of men. Stop thinking of him!
It worked. Elizabeth stopped thinking about him. It only lasted a moment, though, because a voice soon asked:
"Miss Bennet, are you alright?"
Elizabeth was at Netherfield, in a field, shaken by desire. And, of course, the object of her desire was there too.
Since Miss Elizabeth had just saved him from drinking Miss Bingley's disgusting tea blend, Mr Darcy felt that it was perfectly natural to return the favor by taking an interest in her well being. So he had followed her outside, worried about seeing her up and about so soon after her dizziness episode.
While following as she sprinted away from the house, he relived in his head the scene of her drinking two cups of the horrid tea, only for his sake, even if it was already almost cold, and felt moved by the heroic gesture all anew.
But what could he say to her, how to start the conversation? Nothing too personal, nothing that would give away that he had sought her out, that could rise impossible hopes.
The best option was to make a general inquiry about her health, something such as: "How do you do, Miss Elizabeth?", or "Are you feeling any better now?", or "Miss Elizabeth, are you alright?"
Mr Darcy had not imagined that he would be feeling truly concerned for her while uttering those words.
Elizabeth was giving him her back, but it was evident that she was trembling and had a ragged breath. She was not alright at all.
Still, he had to ask, worried and troubled, "Miss Bennet, are you alright?"
Elizabeth recognized the voice.
Until that moment she had been burning, but now she was searing. Was it possible to feel even more than all the intoxicating fervour that she had already been experiencing?
She appealed to her last crumble of self-control to resist turning towards him. She could not afford to see him.
"I am perfectly— Fine, Mr Darcy." She squeezed her eyes, trying to keep her voice steady. She hurried her next sentence: "Please, don't let me spoil your walk."
Forcing herself to consider the matter closed, Elizabeth raised frantic hands to her chin and struggled with the ribbon of her bonnet before discarding it.
When Elizabeth tore her gloves off, Mr Darcy started to feel a worry that bordered on fear.
He made a tentative step forward. "Miss Bennet—"
"Do not move! Do not come closer." She cried, again without turning. Her fingers were fumbling with the buttons of her spencer. "Please, Mr Darcy. Just— go on with your walk."
"I will not leave you alone like this, Elizabeth!" He snapped.
Elizabeth whimpered, she actually whimpered, at him saying her name. She squeezed her eyes shut and called for strength.
"Then I shall go." She said at last with tremulous determination.
Elizabeth started walking, but something — her legs, her body was tense, maybe she did not really want to go away — made her stumble.
She did not hear steps, but of course, she had never heard him arriving in the first place.
Mr Darcy caught her in her fall and now they were both on their knees, him holding her with strong hands.
"Miss Elizabeth—"
Mr Darcy could finish the phrase. The shaking girl buried her face in his shirt, in a desperate attempt to satiate the thirst without sacrificing herself. She dug her fingers in his forearms, holding onto him as if he was all that was left of the world.
He stilled. With Elizabeth in his arms, time died. In a blink of bizarre clarity, Mr Darcy perceived everything around him — the chirp of the birds, the slight autumnal breeze, the grass that was poking at his legs — but at the same time the only thing that mattered and invaded his mind was her, her trembling form. What exactly was happening?
Later. He confusedly thought. Later.
For now, he tentatively brought an arm around her waist, to comfort her.
Elizabeth gasped and come back to her senses. She abruptly abandoned her position snuggled on his chest — where she had been drowning in that man's scent, delighting in the warmth of his touch — and kissed him.
The relief was immediate.
In the fog that had enveloped her senses, Elizabeth forgot every cross thought she had ever thought about that man, every cold glare he had glared in her direction, every unkind word he had ever said and felt only him. She tasted the elegant arch of his lips. She felt a tickle where his nose touched her cheek. She delighted in his arms holding her. She noticed how tall he was, almost incumbent, even while on their knees. And nothing else entered her mind.
She was not even aware that he was not responding to the kiss until— oh, until he did.
Mr Darcy tightened the arm on her waist, while his other hand reached her neck, her cheek and nestled itself in her hair. He slowed the kiss, taking control of the pace and nibbled her bottom lip with agonizing tenderness.
Elizabeth moaned and arched her back, while grasping his dark curls, making him even more aware of her presence.
At that, all rational thought left his mind.
He abandoned her lips but Elizabeth found him again exploring her earlobe, the column of her throat, the pulse just above her collarbones, left uncovered by the unbuttoned spencer.
Without realizing it, he started to guide her toward the ground. Elizabeth, taken by a sudden impetuosity, gripped Mr Darcy's shoulders and pushed him back on the ground, landing on top of him.
At this unexpected turn of events, Darcy's hands went to the sides of her waist, at first in reflex, then to keep her from coming too close and bringing him to utter madness.
As the situation started to escape his control, reason and awareness were beginning to come back to his head. He remembered that they weren't supposed do this, that even if it felt like the most painful thing on Earth, they had to stop now or—
In antithesis to his realization, Elizabeth had started to kiss fervently his jaw and to wiggle trying to free herself from his hold.
Mr Darcy tightened his grip and called her name, "Elizabeth!", hoping to make her see reason. Elizabeth stopped her furious attempts at unwrapping his cravat — that knot was frustratingly tight! — and looked at him.
It was the first time in all their acquaintance that she had looked him in his eyes, she realized with surprise. She gripped stronger at his cravat. What a disconcerting thought, to be so close to a man and never have even looked in his eyes.
Seeing her like that, breathless and bothered, red on her cheeks, her eyes wide and sizzling, strands of her hair escaped from the pins and the spencer slightly opened to reveal her collarbones, Mr Darcy forgot all of society's expectations, again. "El— Elizabeth." He panted, with reverence.
Elizabeth didn't seem to hear him. She had never looked at him in the eyes before. A small voice somewhere in her head told her that things weren't supposed to go like that, that she shouldn't be in this kind of situation with a man she had never—
"Elizabeth…" Mr Darcy raised his head from the ground to bring her in another kiss, while his hands moved slowly towards her hips.
Then Elizabeth collapsed on him, slamming her forehead against his chin.
Author's note
Sorry for not posting last week! Life got in the way, and that is to say, I was away for the weekend and didn't have access to a computer. But I visited Gracechurch Street, so I was still working in a way :)
Some of you were quite interested in the tea's effect in the reviews so I hope this explanation was satisfying on that matter. Let me know in the comments. This is the closest we will get to smut in the whole story, despite the quite salacious premise of an aphrodisiac tea. The plot will take us somewhere else.
Next chapter: we see the aftermath of Elizabeth's fainting ie a continuation of the prologue!
