Author's Note: Thank you for the reviews! The premise is turning out to be a little more challenging than I anticipated, and you have been so kind in your words of encouragement! The story now has a life of its own! I am very excited for this and the following chapters as it must almost be the end of their time together (?!) It was difficult to choose a chapter stopping point for the Netherfield scenes. Hope it is satisfying enough until the next one!
"Blessed are the forgetful, for they get the better even of their blunders." ~ Nietzsche
The large windows in the Netherfield library overlooked the estate's main entrance. Even as a special guest of Bingley, Darcy remembered he had been disinclined to join the festivities a moment earlier than what was absolutely required. He instead sought refuge in the library with the blessing of Bingley, whose excitement for the ball could not be tempered by Caroline or Darcy's unenthusiastic participation. Darcy knew very well why the memory of the Netherfield ball started at the library. He had stood sentry at the window to watch the guests arrive, hoping for an unobserved glimpse of the Bennets. Or rather, one Bennet in particular.
Cautiously, Darcy approached the window. Sure enough, the Bennet carriage was just arriving. His breath hitched as Elizabeth, dressed impeccably in white with pearly white beads adorning her dark hair, followed her sister out of the carriage. He raised his right hand to his face, closing his eyes and pinching his nose in frustration.
"Wake up," Darcy said to himself. "Wake up." She had looked frustratingly lovely this night. This evening would confirm he was losing himself to her, and now, if he could not remember this ball, what would become of his feelings for her?
His hopes were dashed as he opened his eyes, still in the Netherfield library. Although, the library itself was becoming less distinct the longer he lingered. With a tired resignation to a fate that now seemed inevitable, Darcy headed towards the door and descended rapidly down the stairs in time to see Elizabeth meandering through the crowd, clearly looking for someone. He had flattered himself then that perhaps she had been looking for him, but now with the knowledge of her fiery denial still in his head, he realized she likely had been seeking someone else.
Darcy skirted faceless guests all around him, his only goal to follow Elizabeth. Unfortunately, by the time he had made it through the crush of guests, Elizabeth was already enduring a dance with the odious Mr. Collins. His pulse quickened, feeling the resurgence of annoyance he had felt knowing Elizabeth had to tolerate the company of that man.
Darcy needed to think. In the previous memory, he had spoken with her, and she was observant of the changing memory around them. Perhaps jumbling the memories could result in it not fading away? Still pondering his thoughts, Darcy allowed Collins and Elizabeth to finish their dance. He was certain this process was working; the scenes were too vivid, and his own emotions and recollection too raw for the drink to not be doing anything, but he could not be sure. The emptiness that was growing inside him seemed to confirm that something was happening to him. This filled him with more dread than he anticipated. Why couldn't he just wake up?
As Elizabeth hurried out of the room with Miss Lucas, Darcy jolted himself from his thoughts and ran through one of the opposite doors to cut them off in the hallway. Her laughter echoed loudly above the din of the crowd.
"May I have the next dance, Miss Elizabeth?" he breathed out as he made it in time to stop the pair in their tracks. He winced slightly at her clear displeasure.
"You may," Elizabeth replied coolly. Taking a deep breath, Darcy bowed to Miss Lucas, and offered his arm to Elizabeth.
"Please, allow me to escort you."
Clearly perturbed, Elizabeth reluctantly accepted his arm. He led her to the dance floor, and they starred at each other as they waited for the music to begin. She was challenging him with her look, and he was faltering under her gaze. Like before, he was unable to put two words together to form a coherent sentence, so startled was he by her proximity and intensity. The tension was again palatable. When the music began, they moved flawlessly in sync with each other.
"I love this dance," Elizabeth said, a small but wry smile appearing on her lips. Still contemplating the best course of action, Darcy did not reply at all.
"It is your turn to say something, Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth said, clearly annoyed.
"Miss Elizabeth," Darcy stopped before she could continue. Elizabeth stopped with him, almost bumping into him as she did so. "I am afraid I've become very overheated; will you accompany me outside for fresh air?" He extended his arm out to her again. By some grace, or perhaps his own vivid and hopeful imagination, she nodded and took his arm.
Darcy led her gently through the crowd, which parted mechanically for them. The violin behind them was suddenly ominously low, the crowd quiet, the candles less bright. Surely the evening was fading away, but he would buy himself as much time as he could.
The balcony overlooked the front entrance and was lit only by the moonlight and the stray light that flowed out from inside. Darcy approached the edge as Elizabeth let go of his arm. He leaned on the handrail, his hands resting on the cold stone. How real it all felt.
"Mr. Darcy, if you are not feeling well, perhaps I should find a servant or notify Mr. Bingley, as I'm sure they are much better equipped to take care of you." Elizabeth had stopped near the door. Darcy glanced back at her, seeing her radiant form backlit by the candlelight, and her face glowing in the light of the moon.
"If you would allow me to impose on your kindness for just a moment longer. Please stay," he asked quietly.
"I suppose you are not to be refused," Elizabeth's voice was icy. He could not tell if she was teasing him, and looked away from her, looking out to the grounds of Netherfield. He gripped the stone tightly.
"You would be surprised," he retorted. They were silent. He briefly feared this moment was done, and that she was already gone, as he had completely distorted the course of the evening's events. Darcy was again torn between feeling sorrow and relief. They were near the beginning of their acquaintance. He would wake up soon enough.
He was so sure she was already vanished that he jumped slightly when she approached to stand next to him. He looked at her, and thought of how his feelings had been confirmed this evening, despite, or maybe because of, how argumentative she had been with him. His jealousy when she spoke of Wickham had raised his temper and confirmed his growing feelings for her.
As if sensing his thoughts, Elizabeth spoke, "I had hoped to see a new acquaintance of mine here tonight, but it seems that his relationship to you may have impacted his attendance."
Darcy's turned his head quickly to her, his blue eyes icy. "I would hope a clever woman such as yourself would not be so easily taken in by Mr. Wickham's charms," he said, speaking a thought he held in his heart for months since his failed proposal. Before she could object to his statement, he powered on. "I do not know the nature of his lies to you, but I can assure you from experience that Mr. Wickham is deceitful and not to be trusted."
"He told me of his misfortunes," she stated plainly. Darcy restrained himself from rolling his eyes at the familiar refrain. At least, he thought her statement was familiar, but he could not place exactly when she had said this to him. His eyebrows scrunched up in concentration for a moment, his heart beginning to beat faster in a panic. Why couldn't he remember when she said that?
"You have ruined his chances," Elizabeth continued. Here, Darcy snapped back to the moment to respond.
"No, Miss Elizabeth. He refused to take the orders he and my father had agreed upon, choosing to receive his sizable living and spent it in a matter of weeks, and then I prevented his elopement with my sister. He convinced Georgiana that he was in love with her, but when it was made clear he would not receive any of her inheritance, he abandoned her." The words flowed out of Darcy. It was all much easier to say when everything would be gone by morning.
He held her gaze as he continued, "Georgiana's despair was unlike anything I had seen…up until that time. You do not have to believe me, but it is the truth. I am sorry I could not have told this to you sooner. I could have been more forthcoming with you," he concluded.
Elizabeth was looking at him curiously. They were silent for a long moment. The air was quiet. No music or sounds of the ball were heard. Darcy no longer cared. He was now deeply in thought about how much Georgiana's disposition had changed since the summer. He cursed Wickham for hurting Georgiana.
"I am so sorry. For your sister," Elizabeth finally said, seeming to be processing this new bit of information with a significant amount of agitation.
"What is done is done. I only regret how much it has hurt Georgiana."
"She will be stronger for the trials she has experienced," Elizabeth said, her voice soft. "Heartbreak is a teacher unlike any other."
Darcy's mouth went dry. Elizabeth was, of course, right. Could not he learn from his heartbreak too? Had he not learnt something? And now, whatever opportunity for him to better himself, would be vanished because of his foolhardy actions.
They stood in silence. She was staring intently at him. "What are you thinking?" Darcy finally asked. It was a question that was on his mind every moment he was with her when she was not speaking her mind.
"I am trying to make out your character. You have given me so few glimpses to who you are, that it puzzles me exceedingly."
"I wish I could offer you more clarity in the future. But I'm afraid that is not going to be the case," Darcy stated grimly.
"Are you planning to leave Hertfordshire?" she asked. Her icy demeanor seemed to be melting in the warmth of his revelation about Wickham and Georgiana.
"Yes," he replied. It was not untrue. After the ball, and the ridiculous display by the Bennets that was surely still carrying on inside, and his own misreading of Miss Bennet's intentions, Darcy was going to convince Bingley to leave. He was saving Bingley as much as he was saving himself. But, he also knew their time together was coming to an end in more ways than one.
"Then I will not have the opportunity to further sketch your character. What a shame, as I feel as though I may finally make some headway. I suppose that is the danger of speaking candidly to one another for once," she said. The first smile she had granted him all evening formed on her lips. He returned it with a small smile of his own.
"Miss Elizabeth, I think I may have done something I regret. And I will not be able to make it right," he said suddenly, knowing he was not going to make much sense. He dropped his gaze away from her, hanging his head in frustration. Elizabeth looked at him thoughtfully.
"I am not sure I can offer many words of advice if that is what you seek, Mr. Darcy. I tend to only think of the past as its remembrances give me pleasure. A life of regret is no happy life at all. Maybe it is wisest to make the best decisions you can as you move forward. Come, let us rejoin the festivities. We have been out here alone for too long." Elizabeth said, patting his left arm gently to comfort him. He raised his right hand to take her hand in his and opened his mouth to offer some kind of explanation.
Perhaps they could solve this together. No explanation came out though, as he was rendered momentarily speechless by her beauty in the moonlight. Her eyebrows wrinkled in confusion at his look, and she pulled her hand from his and walked back towards the doorway. Darcy turned to follow her. He could faintly hear one of Elizabeth sister's singing poorly at the piano, and Mrs. Bennet's loud exclamations regarding an advantageous marriage. She was moving through the crowd. He took a step forward and was stopped by the doors slamming shut in front of him. Enveloped in the darkness caused by the sudden shuttering of the doors, he rummaged for the handles and, finding them, pulled roughly with both hands. The doors did not budge. He pulled again, and again, until with force, the doors opened. Darcy had to prevent himself from falling backwards and looked with alarm into an empty and dark room before him. She was gone.
Darcy moved forward into the empty room and glanced down the dark hall of Netherfield. He could see a patch a light ahead. He walked towards it, and as he approached he saw it was himself at a writing desk. He realized by his disheveled state, it was him during his stay at Rosings, not Netherfield. He was writing the letter to her. Confused, Darcy moved cautiously around himself, breaking into a sprint as soon as he was safely past his own form. Ahead, he could see Elizabeth and her sisters near a riverbed, even though he was certain he was still in Netherfield. "Miss Elizabeth!" he called, but there came no response.
As he ran towards them, they remained the same distance away. He could not get closer. To his dismay, he watched from afar as he and Bingley appeared on horseback. It was the day he saw Wickham near Elizabeth. His anger and jealousy bubbled inside him so much he could practically taste it. Elizabeth was looking from Wickham to Darcy with curiosity. Then, the light extinguished, and the scene was gone. He could hear the sounds of the horses as Bingley rode after him, calling for him to slow down and explain his behavior, but he could not see him. He kept running through what he was certain was still Netherfield, and as he did, the sun burst through the windows and the corridor rematerialized brightly around him. He ran forward, attempting to reach the open doors at the end of the hall, but as he crossed the threshold to the room, he stopped suddenly. Caroline Bingley sat at the breakfast table, reading a letter.
Darcy sat hurriedly next to her on impulse. Caroline was completely undisturbed and did not seem to notice his heavy breathing from his exerted running. His newspaper was in front of him, but he looked straight ahead, ignoring Caroline's ramblings entirely, waiting with bated breath. A moment passed before the footman entered and announced her.
"Miss Elizabeth Bennet."
Darcy rose to his feet instantly.
"Good lord Miss Elizabeth, did you walk here?" Caroline's astonished voice exclaimed.
"I did." Elizabeth responded, smiling. Her cheeks and nose were flushed with the exertion from her walk. Her hair was wildly and inappropriately down, splayed across her shoulders.
Darcy strode towards her, crossing the length of the room in a few steps. This had been the moment his heart had stirred for her. Her charming face, her energy, and her propensity to kindness had been apparent the minute she graced them with her presence after making the three-mile walk from Longbourn.
He reached her and cupped her face in both his hands. Her cheeks were cold from the morning chill, and she smelt of lavender and wilderness, and although she was startled at his approach, she did not move away. He tilted his head down and drew his lips to hers.
She vanished before their lips touched. His hands were empty.
"No," he said, grabbing the column next to him to steady himself.
"Did you see her hem? Six inches deep in mud…." Caroline's voice was fading away.
Darcy ached with the realization that he had started something he did not want to finish.
"I do not want this anymore. This has to stop. Please," he whispered, "Wake up, damn it," he yelled, willing himself to wake up and perhaps stop this before she was entirely gone.