Title: Miss Bingley's Herbal Tea

Setting: Regency

Rating: T

Chapters: 8/17 (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!


That night, Elizabeth slept little and ill.

Jane had gone back upstairs shortly after Elizabeth's return from the library. Her sister was full of peevish smiles and tales of Mr Bingley's kindness and his decision to have a ball after all, but Elizabeth could barely listen to her.

"Mr Darcy left almost as soon as I arrived."

"Indeed?"

"Yes. He looked so pale and tired. I hope he went to bed early."

"Me too."

Jane smiled happily. "Hear, hear. You like him more now after he rescued you on the grounds, don't you?"

To Elizabeth's relief, Jane left not long after that exchange.

Elizabeth's only thought until that moment had been to fall into numbing sleep but as soon as her cheek touched the pillow, she understood that she could not.

She felt restless. She kept turning in the bed, reliving the day. Had it really all started that morning, at breakfast? It seemed a million years away. She could not believe half of what had happened since then.

Had she wanted to, she could have now been engaged to Mr Darcy. It was a strange thought. Had she only wanted it, she could have been smiling with him at the ridiculousness of their situation and at Miss Bingley's clumsiness, that had accomplished nothing but bringing them together. And perhaps he would have smiled back. She was not sure. Her every knowledge of the man had been overturned.

He, apparently, did not dislike her. Between everything that had happened, that was what had shocked her the most. Mr Darcy must regard her in some way.

After his comments at the Meryton assembly, Elizabeth had never considered Mr Darcy as an eligible party. The appreciation and curiosity that she had started to harbour upon meeting him for the first time, that she had not allowed herself to hold onto after that first disparaging comment, had been smothered and pushed aside if not truly forgotten. Since then, the thought that he could see her as something more than an annoying acquaintance had never crossed her mind.

It was quite distressing. She could not understand the man. He had slighted her that first night and then asked her to dance — two times, she now remembered. He had declared her tolerable, but also that they would be very, no, exceedingly happy together. He wanted to marry her to fulfil some imaginary sense of duty, yes, but to declare that they would be exceedingly happy together, almost as if he had given careful consideration to the matter.

You willfully misunderstand me, madam! He had proclaimed during their discussion in the library. Elizabeth hid her head under the cover and squeezed her eyes shut at the recollection.

Then she reemerged with defiance, annoyed at herself. Yes, perhaps she had been wrong, but what did it matter?

I may have misunderstood him about his opinion of me, but not about everything else. She reminded herself. For, even if he does favour me in some way, a man of his standing and pride would have never proposed to me if our circumstances had not been so peculiar. And he has yet to apologize or even acknowledge the terrible behaviour that he has displayed ever since he came to Hertfordshire. He is still the most disagreeable man I have ever met and I am acquainted with him as much as I will ever want to be.

Elizabeth had meant everything she had ever said about the man, but this last sentence she knew to be a lie.

The man she had met in the library was not Mr Darcy. At least, not the Mr Darcy she knew. And the man she had kissed on the grounds was another entirely different Mr Darcy too.

Elizabeth snorted. Only the day before, she had bragged to Mr Bingley about being a studier of character and yet she had failed to recognize that there was more to Mr Darcy than his odious surface: the passionate Mr Darcy of that morning, the pained Mr Darcy of that evening, the Mr Darcy that would scheme with her tomorrow. He was the most complex man she had ever met. She had a sudden desire to know him, the entirety of him so that he could not catch her off guard with a new identity at every turn. And yet, she felt that even if she had accepted his offer and spent the rest of her days observing him, he would have still escaped her knowledge.

He could have been the puzzle of her life if only she had allowed him. No, she would not think of that.

But he had truly said: 'Indeed, madam, I believe we shall be exceedingly happy together.' He had truly said that. And she had refused.

Exceedingly happy or miserable. She mused. It is a pity that we shall never know who is right between us. But she soon shoved that thought out of her head. No, there can be no doubt here. I am the one who is right. Indeed, he must have realized it by now. Whatever regard he may have felt for me, my words today have put an end to it. And those are words that I can not regret.


That night, Darcy slept little and ill.

He told his valet, to retire for the evening but to wake him at dawn the next day. He also warned him that they would leave Netherfield immediately after breakfast.

While communicating all this, his mind had stayed completely blank. He felt numb. He could not bear to think of what had happened.

As he started to change for the night, though, the shock started to slowly wear off. As despair threatened to overpower him, he transformed the agony into anger.

She had refused him. Because she thought that they would be miserable together. Miserable!

He loved her. And she would have been miserable with him.

He sank on the bed, elbows on his knees and head in his hands. She had completely misunderstood him, every word he had ever said— Well. She had not misunderstood him when it came to his comments at the Meryton assembly. He had meant those words at the time, however utter madness they could seem now. For some reason, she had not caught his eye at first, but then—

But then nothing. She had stated her opinion on that matter quite firmly.

The pain struck him all anew. He had to pause and regain his breath. It was too much. He would think no more of her.

He took the same resolution many times that night, always forsaking it after mere minutes.

Surprisingly though, as the hours passed and he kept tossing and turning in his bed, Mr Darcy came to redirect all his anger against another: himself.

He reexamined every word he had ever uttered in her presence. Seeing his behaviour through her eyes was a difficult, mortifying experience. Even when he had meant well, and he had certainly tried, he had not bothered to make his intentions understood.

You cannot pretend to be a gentleman only when it suits you. Those words tortured him. He was experiencing such torment as to make him wish he had never even heard the name of Bingley and it was all of his makings. She may have had an incorrect first impression of him, yes, but it was him that had fortified it with his following behaviour. Lord, he had never even realized that she detested him! Had he really been that arrogant, that selfish to never think of her feelings until she had thrown them in his face? And what of her family and friends?

His parents had given him good principles and he had followed them with diligence for his whole life. Yet where had those principles brought him?

Georgiana almost left me for Wickham, I am too respectful to defy Lady Catherine, Miss Bingley takes my politeness as encouragement, the woman I wish to take as my wife—

Somehow, his principles had failed him. Somehow, he would have to find better ones.

But that was a matter for later.

First, he would help Elizabeth with the herbal tea. Then, he would tear himself away from Netherfield. He would go back to London. He would retrieve Georgiana and then he would be in Pemberley, where he would find a way to forget Elizabeth.

Leaving her would have been less excruciatinghad he never lived those brief, blessed hours in which he had thought that he would never have to be parted from her from that day on.

When his valet came to wake him up at first light, Darcy was already awake.

He rose and got dressed as if nothing had been out of the norm. He told the valet that he would break his fast later with the rest of the family and then asked for his horse to be prepared.

As he rode towards Meryton, as per Elizabeth's instruction, he suddenly realized:

After today, I will never see her again.

He rode on.


Author's corner

I haven't read the comments that you lovely people have left on the previous two chapters yet but I will get around to reading and answering them on Sunday. I simply don't have the time at the moment. So thank you for reading and see you in a couple of days :)