Chapter Eight: Mr Darcy

I stay out of sight watching the movements within her flat and specifically the front door. Why hasn't he left yet? If he was just making sure she got home safely, surely he would have left by now? Maybe I had been right with my original suspicions; she had fallen victim to Wickham's charms. I wait with trepidation for the lights to go off so I would know for sure. I'm a fool listening to Richard, letting him talk me into coming here tonight. To check on her, to make sure Wickham doesn't do anything she didn't invite. I should have stayed at the party. Its my own stupidity that had me skulking around corners at this time of night, and it is bloody freezing. I'm just about to give in and go home when the door opens and Wickham appears. He jogs down the street and hails a taxi before disappearing out of sight. So she hasn't let him stay. I blow out a breath. Why am I so comforted by that? She means nothing to me, she couldn't do. I had vowed as much, no matter what attraction there is, no matter how it appears we are destined to be thrown in to each-others company repeatedly. Nothing can become of it. Still. I'm relieved.

George Wickham has already broken too many hearts in his shady past, I don't want Elizabeth Bennet to be the next. Richard is right, even if I don't tell her the full story I have to at least warn her what sort of man he is. I take a deep breath and ring the buzzer. Her voice comes out clear and calm if not a little irritated. "Look I don't know what Lydia told you, but you can't stay here, please go away."

I swallow down my fear. "Elizabeth, its Nick Darcy."

Without a word from her, the door clicks open and I enter the lobby crossing to her door with familiarity, I reach for the handle wiping the sweat off my palms on my jacket before knocking gently. She nervously opens the door, anxiety all over her face. I take another deep breath in and speak. "Is … Are you…?" I poke my head around her outstretched arm and glance around the empty flat. I see Lydia asleep and sigh in relief. I would be able to talk to her without her sister overhearing. "I'm sorry, forgive me I shouldn't be here at this time, but I …" it is now that I finally look at her properly. All of her. She stands wearing nothing but a tiny pair of shorts and a strappy top. My eyes widen in appreciation, she is everything I have imagined and more. She notices me looking and blushes. Her arms instinctively cover her braless cleavage. I try to look away and fail.

God why can't I stop looking at her?

"Its fine… that is ... Do you want to come in?" she stutters. I look around the hallway making sure no one would catch me entering her flat at this time of night. I don't want her getting a reputation with her neighbours. Wickham had just left and now here I am. I swiftly nod and enter her flat. She takes a deep breath as I walk past her, finally letting it go as she shuts the door behind me. She grabs a cardigan from the back of the door and wraps it around her, but fails to relax, the tension in her is apparent. She doesn't want me here. "Look I think I should explain about tonight. I'm so…"

"You shouldn't trust him!" I blurt out interrupting her. Her mouth drops open in surprise. "Wickham." I snap, it had been a long time since I could say his name out-loud without spite and bitterness present in my tone. She jumps in shock at my outburst and at the rage that accompanied it. "Don't believe anything he tells you. Don't listen to anything that sorry excuse for a man tells you." I warn. She presses her back against the door and stares at the ground. I hope I have gotten through to her. She stands transfixed. So I begin walking around the tiny flat. I feel large and imposing in her compact home. She still hasn't reacted, she hasn't uttered a word. I continue with my advice. "He's, well he's a complete git, if you must know. I've known him a long time and I'm being honest with you here. He's a ladies man, a player. He uses women badly. Very badly." I stop walking, turning to face her. My shoulders sag. I have wanted to say that to someone –anyone- for so long, that I am now saying it to her, seems so appropriate I can't fight back the smile as it forces its way on to my face. I have done it. I have warned her, now she would thank me and stay the hell away from him and we can go back to normal.

She pushes off the door and comes towards me. "Thank you for your opinion, but as you have already previously pointed out, I have my own. I think I'll give him the benefit of the doubt until I have formed it. If you don't mind I am very tired." She points towards the door with her chin, arms folded tightly.

This I was not expecting. Why can't she just take what I was saying as the truth and trust me? "I don't think you understand what I'm saying here Elizabeth. He's no good. He's a womaniser. He'll talk you into bed- if he hasn't already- charm you into falling for him, probably swindle you out of your life savings and then spit you out. Before moving on to the next unsuspecting female and I say female, because they don't even have to be fully grown woman for him to be tempted." My eyes travel over to Lydia. She follows my gaze and her eyes widen in horror before she shakes her head. I am still standing in front of the door, I've paced the room and I'm back where I began. She begins pacing back and forth where I have left off.

She stops and looks at me with anger in her eyes. "How dare you? How dare you, come here to my home, accuse me of sleeping with someone, who has basically been nothing but a good friend to me the whole time I moved here? My only friend if you must know. The only one who has shown me any kindness." She confesses. I lift my head, she's right. No one at Rosings has welcomed her, not really, especially not Caroline or me. Is it any wonder she flocked to Wickham? She hasn't denied sleeping with him. Did this mean I am too late? She already has a relationship with him. Could she have fallen for him while I was busy falling for … As if she read my thoughts she grabs my attention again. "I am not sleeping with George Wickham." I can't help but feel relieved. I tell myself it's just because of him and his character and how I couldn't see another young girl get mixed up with him and end up broken hearted. Deep down I know it is nothing to do with that. "Even if I were, it would be none of your business." She spits. "While we are on the subject of things being none of your business, what about Charlie and Jane?"

I look at her accusingly. "What about them?"

"Do you deny it? Do you deny that you separated a young couple who loved each other? Leaving them both utterly miserable and disappointed." She comes to a stop and I take over pacing again. A movement from Lydia catches my attention and I stop. I don't want a witness to this conversation. I look back at Elizabeth, then without warning take her arm pulling her over to the kitchen area away from her sleeping sister. The moment my hand touches her arm, a bolt of something shoots through me. It is the first time I have actually touched her. There had been no handshakes when we first met or since. When I think back, I didn't even come near her when I offered her that tissue. All the times we have been alone I have done my up most to prevent it, to put distance between us, and now I have finally touched her, it is such a radical awakening. I'm no longer tired. Out of the corner of my eye I see her glance up at me as I guide her though the flat. She must have noticed something too. I don't show any trace of feeling it, but it was there. Despite everything telling me it is a bad idea, a terrible awful, no-good-would-ever-come-of-it idea, I realise there is something between us. I want to feel her touch, I crave it. I want her hand in mine, I imagine how it would fit so perfectly. My grip is firm but gentle. She can easily pull away if she wants to, but she doesn't. I should let her go. I should leave, but I don't.

Once we're far away enough from her sister to continue the conversation I address her earlier accusation. "I do not deny it." My voice is low but stern. I'm not sorry. As far as I'm concerned I have done my friend a good favour. Charlie had already fallen hard and when he realised she didn't feel the same, he would be devastated. I take a moment to acknowledge the fact the story of my friends romantic failure is much the same as mine. We had both fallen for women decidedly beneath us and from which no good could ever come and yet we still want them badly enough to put all that aside and be with them. Yet ironically, they don't want us. Not for the reasons they should anyway. Charlie has feelings for Jane but the depth of her feelings towards him, are not the same. I have feelings for Elizabeth and she doesn't have feelings for me in return. Charles was miserable without Jane and I am here in the middle of the night unable to leave Elizabeth's side. I can't give it up this unbelievable notion that we should be together. Maybe it's just sexual chemistry, like an itch you just have to scratch despite being warned not to. You just can't help yourself. Maybe this is it. She's intelligent, beautiful and funny; anyone in my situation would feel this way too. I lean against the kitchen counter, my arms folded across my chest protecting my heart from hers.

The longer I observe her, the angrier she becomes, until I think she may explode.

"How could you do it?" she murmurs.

"Because I believe Charles is the only one who is truly in love in the relationship. Your sister seems … indifferent."

"Indifferent?"

"I watched them when they were together, most carefully, and realised his attachment was far deeper that hers."

"That's because she's shy! She wouldn't show her true feelings for Charlie in front of his friend, in front of a stranger who probably made her feel uncomfortable just for being there with them, like some sort of judgmental third wheel."

I consider this for a moment, but then shake my head. "In any case Charles thought so too."

"Because you and Gree- Caroline suggested it!" She's whispering as loud as she can. She wants to scream and yell at me, but Lydia's presence is preventing it. I long to see her when she really lets loose, loses control and gives her best argument. I would love to argue with her. I enjoy the banter, the way she likes to degrade me on the verge of insulting only to then come back with some witty remark that had you wanting to laugh with her.

"I did it for his own good!" I retort.

Her beautiful face scrunches in anger and her eyes seem tired. "Jane's been hurt so many times before, admirers that turn out to be creeps who only want one thing; she hides her feelings until she's completely sure."

The frown on my face slips and my tense muscles seem to relax. Could I have been wrong? Could I have judged the situation so poorly? Elizabeth doesn't give me chance to think before continuing. "And what about all this nonsense about her after his money? Isn't that what you told Charlie, that she was some sort of money grabber who would take it and run?"

"No! Believe me I would never ever accuse your sister of something as dishonourable as that. Carol-" I pause gathering my thoughts; "it was just merely suggested…"

"What was?"

She moves closer to me, her scent assaulting my senses, clouding my mind. I look down at her, uncomfortable with her closeness, she looks back. She doesn't seem to care. "It was clear that a union between Jane and Charles would have been advantage to only one of the party involved."

"Did my sister give that impression?"

"No! No. There was however the matter of your family…"

"Oh yes, our background. Well Charlie didn't seem to object."

"No, it was more than that."

"What was it then?" She moves another step closer.

"It was obvious at the graduation and at the way we were so swiftly included into your family gatherings that your mother had plans. Your three younger sisters," I look across at Lydia, "well that speaks for itself don't you think. Your father-"

"My father." she interrupts, "has done nothing but be polite and civil to you and the Bingley's. He invited Charlie to our home as a friend, because that is what he believed him to be. Caroline and you were just an extension of that invitation. If we appalled you so much you should not have accepted."

This time I step closer, eager for her to know the truth. "Forgive me then. Of your father I was mistaken. You and your sister must also be excluded from this."

"It doesn't sound like it, you have just accused Jane of being nothing more than a gold digger and what am I?" She is almost touching me. I blink repeatedly unable to give an answer. "I presume I must be tarred with the same brush. Did you and Caroline think I was after you for your money? Is that it? Well you can rest assured Mr Darcy, I have no interest in you or your money." She is so close now, I'm sure she can feel my hot breath on her skin when I speak. For a minute we are frozen in time, only her and me and the sound of the clock ticking on the kitchen wall. It would be so easy to just lean forward and kiss her right now. Forget about all the arguing over the past half an hour and just enjoy each other. She looks into my eyes and I into hers. I can count her eyelashes, I drop my gaze to her lips. She licks them. Is she trying to tease me? This is too dangerous. I can't be with her this close, I can't trust myself. I stand up straighter so I am towering above her and drop my gaze completely, moving away, putting more than just distance between us. The moment is over. She looks at the floor shaking her head from side to side. I wasn't sure what was going to happen Monday, maybe she wouldn't come back. This being a maybe, I decide to apologise and at least part as friends, I turn to do just that when she floors me completely.

"And what about George?"

My neck snaps up so quickly I think it will break. "George? George Wickham?" I spit out the name like its poison on my lips. She nods.

"What excuse can you give for your behaviour toward him? He told me all about what you did to him when your father died. Thanks to you he's had so many obstacles to overcome to just to get on in life. Obstacles he wouldn't have had to face if you had followed your father's wishes. You have everything you could ever want and yet you treat him like dirt. Like a stranger, worse than a stranger. He was your friend, with that and the help you gave Charlie, I wonder how you can have anyone to call friend left."

"Obstacles!?" I bang my fist on the worktop, startling her again. He had told her I had lied, I had ruined his life. "Wickham told you of these obstacles did he?"

She blushes. "He told me how he was promised things by your father, but he didn't elaborate. He said he would rather not gossip about such things." She defends him.

A wild smile settles on my face, "Oh I bet he did."

Silence surrounds us. I'm tired, exhausted, but I can't think of sleep. This would be the time. I can just tell her. Confess the whole sorry story. She would believe me then. But why should I? If she would rather trust George Wickham over Nicholas Darcy than who was I to try and force her to see the truth. She has her opinion, of that she is always reminding me and if her opinion is this then I would let her have it. I feel deflated and defeated, like I have already lost the fight, and I'm not even sure why I am fighting. "If any of those horrible things you have said about George are true, I would like to think you think high enough of my intelligence and good sense of character to recognise him for what he is and not get entangled." She isn't as sure as she seemed. There is doubt. My face softens completely, she notices and looks uneasy. I never let my guard down in front of others. Nicholas Darcy is not known for his emotional side. If anything it was the lack thereof. Even Georgie had described me as such in the past. It is because of her I am trying harder to show my feelings, but it was not easy to put aside how you had been taught as a child.

I start towards her again. I look down at her hand, fighting with myself whether or not to take it. I want to hold it again, to feel her again one last time. But I couldn't back down. Not now. When I speak again I am quieter, calmer. "You don't know what he's like. Even with all those incredible traits you could still be hoodwinked by him. I have seen it before. I would rather not see it again. Not with you. Especially not with you."

It is her heads turn to snap to attention. Could she really be so ignorant of my feelings for her? I know she has overheard things to the contrary but surely she has suspicions. The looks I give her unconsciously, the way I can't help but be near her whenever the opportunity arises. No matter what I should be doing, I couldn't stay away from her. Her shoulders drop and she pulls the cardigan around her once again shivering. I want to wrap her up in my arms and make her warm. She stands beside me placing her hand on the surface next to mine, our little fingers almost touching, and whispers "he's a friend. That is all."

I close my eyes unable to trust my face from showing the relief. Then almost as quickly as it appears the happiness disappears. Just because she hasn't yet didn't mean she wouldn't. "Well George Wickham is blessed with such a friendly and happy nature that he ensures he makes lots of friends. Whether he is a capable of retaining them, is less certain."

"Well it's plain to anyone to see he has lost your friendship. I assume from what you have said tonight, that is an irreversible event?"

"Yes. I'm afraid my good opinion once lost is lost forever." It comes across more as a warning than a statement. The cold exterior was back. She shakes her head mumbling something and then walks over to the living room again.

"I would like you to leave Mr Darcy. Now."