We Can Work It Out Chapter 7: The Duel, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Chapter 7 – The Duel

"Could you believe it? She was just standing there, in her pajamas! How horrifying!"

Once Eliza had (quickly) eaten her breakfast and hurried back upstairs, Caroline had launched into an absolute tirade. Will certainly couldn't argue with the impropriety of Eliza coming to breakfast in only her night things, but he also couldn't argue that it hadn't brightened up an otherwise dull morning. The sight of her standing in his apartment, her face clean and fresh, probably would not leave his thoughts for quite some time. He may have to move.

"Get over it, Caroline," Charles said for the hundredth time. "Not everyone gets up wearing a Dolce and Gabbana suit. Besides, she didn't know you were coming. Nor did I, for that matter."

"We wanted to surprise you," Caroline replied. "It was Will's idea."

Will jerked out of his stupor and looked at the others. He nodded to confirm that yes, it had been his idea to come, for several reasons, the most important of which, he kept reminding himself, was to make sure Charles wasn't constantly at Jane's side. He was convinced that this relationship with Jane could only end in disaster, and the sooner Charles broke it off, the better. Not to mention that, especially after this morning, Will himself wanted to get away from the Bennets as soon as possible.

Finally, Caroline decided to go upstairs to visit with Jane, leaving Charles and Will alone at the breakfast table for their usual morning discussion of the news. Charles, however, did not seem so keen on this conversation, and after a few minutes of bantering about stock numbers, he smiled at Will.

"You should have seen Eliza in your library, Darcy," he said. Will put down the newspaper and stood to put his plate by the sink. Undeterred, Charles stood as well and followed him.

"I never thought anyone could like that library as much as you, but she certainly comes close," he continued. Will groaned slightly in his throat; ever since Charles had first mentioned it, he had been doing his best not to picture Eliza in his library. It was his favorite place to be when he was in the States, and considering he was attempting to block all thoughts of Eliza, he did not want to think of her every time he went in there.

Charles sighed and leaned against the counter, looking at Will. "Will, I know I'm pretty much your only friend here in America, and I know I haven't been around a whole lot ever since I met Jane. But it wouldn't kill you to branch out a little… you and Eliza have a lot in common, you're just too stubborn to see it."

"Charles," Darcy finally said, "you don't understand. Once I'm done with school, I'm going back home. I have absolutely no desire to keep this place or to stay in New York. And neither do you. You're just not thinking clearly; when we come back her to intern, you'll remember."

"Darcy I'm not asking you to make a lifetime commitment, I'm just saying you could make a friend."

"I have friends at home," Darcy said shortly.

Charles paused; Darcy turned away to load the dishwasher… he didn't want to see the look on Charles' face. That earnest, sympathetic look that made Darcy very uncomfortable.

"I was thinking… I might ask Jane out on a date, a proper date, you know," Charles said suddenly, in a small, soft voice. Darcy turned to look at his friend, feeling sorry for the poor guy. How easily some men can be bewitched by a pretty face, he thought.

"Charles," he began, "imagine bringing her home to your family. The poor girl would be lost. She's a sweet girl, but she doesn't belong with you."

Charles' face crumpled. "You really believe that?"

"Yes, I do," Darcy said resolutely.

Charles nodded, but didn't say anything. Instead, he walked out of the kitchen, leaving Darcy to wonder whether it would take more than his usual powers of persuasion to snap Charles out of this trap.

After leaving the breakfast room still mortified, Eliza had run back to her room, showered, and put on the best clothes she had brought with her, a knee-length, flared chartreuse sundress. She hated the way these people made her feel, like she had to be on her best behavior at all times. Usually she would just tell them to fuck off, but she was painfully aware that actually being herself would shine a bad light on Jane, who already had enough working against her. And so she scrubbed her face, put on some makeup, and with a broad smile walked to Jane's room, where Caroline and her sister already had Jane awake and eating.

"Ah, Eliza… fully dressed, I see," Caroline said with a smirk as she walked into the room.

Eliza smiled wider and laughed her best casual chuckle. Instead of replying, though, she walked to Jane's bed and sat down.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

"Fine," Jane replied. "How are you?" she asked in return, her blue eyes implying a whole other question: How are you doing with the Bingleys?

"Fine," Eliza said sweetly.

"Really?" Jane pressed.

"Really really," Eliza said, fussing with the comforter. "Wasn't it nice of Caroline to drop by? Will Darcy's here, too," she went on, her face starting to cramp from smiling.

"We won't stay long," Caroline interjected. "We just couldn't stand the thought of you lying here all alone."

"Oh, that's sweet… but I'm not alone – your brother's here, and Lizzie," Jane said.

"We'll just stay until dinner," Caroline continued as if Jane hadn't spoken. "Will had to pick up a few things at any rate."

Jane glanced at Eliza quickly, as if to warn her to be nice; Eliza shrugged and looked at her sister innocently. She was doing her best… but then again, it was only noon.

After a small, early afternoon lunch, Caroline finally let Jane rest and went to shop with her sister. Charles was doing some work in the study, and Darcy had seemingly disappeared. Finally able to let her face relax, Eliza returned a few phone calls in the parlor (she'd had six messages from Tom alone while staying there) before deciding to visit the library again. She just couldn't quite keep her mind off it; not just all the glorious antique books and journals, but all the marvelous encyclopedias and history books made her shiver. This was too nerdy to admit aloud, however, and so she hoped she wouldn't be disturbed.

The room was quiet and empty when she entered, and she breathed a sigh of relief. As she ran her fingers along the innumerous book spines, she couldn't help but a feel a morsel of kinship with Darcy; it was clear that he had poured his heart and soul into his book collection, and she practically quivered to think of his library in England. Even if she didn't like him as a person, it didn't mean that she couldn't appreciate, and even respect, the thought and care he put into his library.

Finally coming to a stop on the newest edition of the Norton Anthology, she pulled out the heavy book and collapsed onto the sunny window seat. Casually flipping through the assorted poems, she hummed to herself and read contentedly.

"The Norton – ambitious," a voice broke through her thoughts a few minutes later.

Eliza jerked her head up to see Darcy leaning his long, built body against the door frame. She smiled lightly and shrugged.

"I have my dad's old copy at home, but it's from, like, 1972," she said with a chuckle. The faintest hint of a smile played on his lips, and then it disappeared. He stood and walked to a seemingly exact place, ran his fingers along the books for a moment, and then pulled out a thick red book.

"Do you have a favorite poet?" he asked, still looking at the bookshelf.

"Well, if I had pick one… Dylan Thomas," she said. "Or Shakespeare, but that goes without saying."

He nodded lightly, moved an inch or two to the left, and pulled out another book, this one slender and blue. He crossed over to her and placed the blue book in her hands; it was leather-bound and slightly shriveled with age. She carefully opened it and read the title page.

"An original copy. My grandfather funded several of his lecture tours here," Darcy replied.

"Wow… your grandfather must have been very important," she said, hoping he didn't detect the sarcasm.

"He was," he simply said. "My grandfather started the most successful law firm in all of England when he was only twenty-four. He didn't have to; my family has controlled Derbyshire since the 17th century. As it was, his younger brother handled the estate while my grandfather lived in London." He abruptly stopped talking, as if he had suddenly realized that he had been talking. He nodded to Eliza, turned on his heel, and left the room. Eliza chuckled under her breath; what a sorry fellow he was. He looked so miserable, and yet somehow managed to make it look like he liked it that way. As if being happy would somehow damage the memory of his proud family line. He and Caroline were a perfect match, she thought with a giggle. She knew that was what Caroline was hoping, at least.

The afternoon went quickly as she made a little tiny dent in the massive amount of books. Around five o'clock, she went to visit Jane, who was sitting up in bed watching TV. They talked for awhile about nothing in particular, until Charles poked his head in to tell Eliza that dinner would be served in a half hour. Without so much as a smile or wink to Jane, though, he poked his head back out and left. Raising an eyebrow, Eliza turned to her sister, whose eyes were resolutely set on the TV.

"What was that about?" Eliza asked incredulously.

"What was what about?" Jane asked innocently.

"He didn't even look at you," Eliza said, her voice rising.

"So?" Jane said with a shrug. Noticing the look on Eliza's face however, her own face softened and she smiled. "Lizzie, he was in here for three hours this afternoon."

Eliza, however, was still bothered. "And you made out, right?"

Jane blushed. "No, Lizzie, we did not make out!"

"But you talked, right? Made plans, discussed what you would do when you felt better, that sort of thing?"

Jane shrugged. "Not really."

"Then what did you talk about?" Eliza asked, before her eyes fell on a DVD case resting on the night table. She picked it up and thrust it into her sister's face.

"Jane, please tell me that you and Charles did not watch The Lord of the Rings this afternoon?" she said, her voice rising even higher.

"What? You love that movie!" Jane protested.

"That's not the point! You're feeling better, I can tell, and you and your boyfriend could have been doing a lot more than watching a movie."

"I thought it was the best movie ever?" Jane challenged.

"It is the best movie ever! But again, not the point, dear."

"He didn't seem like he wanted to talk… besides, he's not my boyfriend," Jane said softly, looking down at her fingers. Eliza's jaw dropped; it was exactly as she had feared, but she was shocked all the same. Eliza's thoughts flickered to Darcy.

"That bastard," she murmured.

"Lizzie!" Jane cried.

Eliza looked back at her sister, who suddenly was looking rather distraught. Eliza bit her tongue.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"You know, I am feeling better," Jane interrupted, her voice suddenly hard and resolute. "Maybe you should call Mom and tell her we'll be home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" Eliza asked, shocked. "But I've only been here –"

"Yes, I'm feeling a lot better. Go on, go call her, I'll tell Charles."

The brusqueness with which Jane said this was nothing short of shocking; Jane, who was normally so sweet and calm. Eliza could do nothing but sputter as she stood and left the room. Pausing for a moment on the other side of the door, Eliza mulled over what had just happened. So they weren't boyfriend and girlfriend… Charles had just been leading her on! But what made her even sadder was that Jane didn't tell her; they had always confided in each other. She sighed and began walking to her room… Jane was looking and moving so much better that taking her home wouldn't be a horrible thing, but her mother would have a right fit over their coming home so early. But what could she do? Eliza would rather die than force her sister to stay here if she didn't feel comfortable. So, taking a deep breath, Eliza walked into her room, picked up her mobile and called home.

Fifteen minutes later, her ears ringing from the screeching phone call, Eliza walked downstairs to join the others for dinner. Her mother had insisted on coming to pick them up, probably in hopes of convincing them, or Bingley to make them, stay. A knot of dread forming in her stomach, Eliza found, not surprisingly, everyone else already seated at the dining room table. They raised their eyebrows in acknowledgement of her presence; Bingley gave her a small, somewhat shaky smile. Dinner was served, and they ate almost silently, except for a few monologues from Caroline about nothing in particular. Eliza didn't know what to think; she looked at Bingley, who was eating without paying any attention to his sister. She then looked at Darcy, who was receiving the majority of Caroline's attention, but seemed to be doing his best to ignore her. Sure, he was proud and pretty irritating, but was Darcy really so mean as to break up Bingley and Jane? She could imagine him trying to talk Bingley out of it, but Darcy was also, if nothing else, a gentleman, and she had always thought that, at the end of the day, he would still leave the choice up to Bingley.

After dinner, they all adjourned to the living room. Mr. and Mrs. Hurst started up a game of cards, Bingley picked up a law journal, Caroline had cornered Darcy on the couch, and Eliza was left awkwardly standing in the middle of the room.

"Would you like to join us, Elizabeth?" Mr. Hurst asked, gesturing to the card table.

But before she could answer, Eliza heard another voice answering for her.

"Oh no, Theo, Eliza doesn't play cards. Eliza would much rather read, and expand her mind, than take part in such a silly thing as cards. Here's a book, Eliza, come sit down over here," Caroline said, her dark eyes glittering.

Eliza politely accepted the book Caroline held out for her. "Thank you, Caroline, I would prefer a book. But you're mistaken; I don't just read all the time, I do like most games. Just not cards… I always seem to lose," she said with a small laugh.

Caroline laughed as well as Eliza sat down on the leather armchair. Her interest in taunting Eliza, however, seemed to subside for the moment and she returned her attention to Darcy.

"But tell me, Will, how's your sister? I just love Georgia! I tell you, she is the sweetest, most charming girl! How tall is she now, is she is tall as me?"

"Not quite yet," Darcy answered. Eliza, sneaking a glance from her book, was startled to see his complexion had changed dramatically; his eyes had lit up, and he was smiling ever so slightly. "I'd say she's about Eliza's height."

The mention of her name made Caroline turn back to Eliza. "Oh Eliza, Darcy's sister is the most perfect young woman in the whole world… she plays piano and the flute, paints and draws so well, and is such a wonderful ballet dancer. What else, Darcy? Oh yes, she speaks… what, three? … different languages, top grades in her school, captain of the girls' football team… oh I could go on forever, right, Darcy?"

Darcy nodded.

"It always amazes me that all young women do as much as they do," Charles piped up. Caroline looked at him with her head cocked to one side.

"All?" she repeated.

"Yes, all of them. They dance, they play sports, they run school activities, they get into better colleges… it seems I have never met a young woman who does not have a schedule chock full of activities."

"Yes, that's all very true," Darcy chimed in, "but one has to consider that now that all women can do so many different things, they are few who are truly talented at what they do. I would say I don't know more than six women who I would actually call accomplished."

Accomplished? Eliza thought incredulously to herself. What year was it, anyway, 1780?

"Neither do I," Caroline immediately agreed.

"Then you must expect a whole lot from someone to deem them accomplished," Eliza said, unable to keep quiet.

"Yes, I do expect a lot. True accomplishment has gone by the wayside, and it should be commended," Darcy said to her.

"Yes… a young woman should be fluent in at least one foreign language, be able to read and play music, – and be able to sing if possible – and be able to move gracefully and speak with clarity and politeness," Caroline listed.

"And of course, she must have a thorough knowledge of literature, and be able to carry a conversation," Darcy finished.

Eliza couldn't help but let out a laugh. "Wow… I no longer wonder at your knowing only six such women, I wonder at your knowing any."

"Do have so little faith in the female sex that you can't believe one woman could be so well-bred?" Caroline asked, her thin eyebrow raised.

"Not at all… it's just that this accomplished woman of yours seems rather bland – is she not allowed an opinion? Can she play sports? In addition to being able to carry a conversation, is she allowed to debate? Speak her mind?"

Caroline's eyes narrowed; Darcy was looking at Eliza with amused interest. Charles cleared his throat loudly and spoke through the thick tension.

"Tell me, Darcy, have you written to your sister lately?"

Darcy looked away from Eliza and nodded to Charles. "Just yesterday."

"I'm sure she loves hearing from you at football camp. Your letters are always so long and well thought-out."

"Not like you, Charles," Caroline interjected. "Your e-mails are missing half their words, with typos everywhere."

Charles laughed. "My thoughts come so quickly I can't write them fast enough… my letters often end up saying nothing at all."

"You're very modest, Charles," Eliza said to him.

"There is nothing more false than modesty," Darcy said, his eyes slightly narrowed at Charles. "It's nothing more than an indirect boast – you're looking to be praised for having such interesting thoughts that you can't write them fast enough… or you're just trying to get Eliza to think you're cute."

Charles laughed. "All I did was speak the truth," he said, his hands up in protest. "I wasn't showing off; it fit in with the conversation."

"Yes, but you do everything on a whim, Charles. If you were in the car, ready to leave, and a friend asked you stay, you would, even if it was inconvenient. Then if he asked you to stay a month, you probably would do that, too."

"So you're saying Charles is a good friend… my, how horrible," Eliza said sarcastically, with a smile to Darcy. His mouth hardened.

"Thank you, Eliza, for trying to turn my friend's words into a compliment. But I assure you, it wasn't… Darcy would think very highly of me if I just drove away when a friend asked me to stay," Charles said.

"You have to remember, Eliza, that the friend asking him to stay has merely asked, not given Charles an ultimatum. The friend would most likely think no worse of him if he left, but Charles has a very hard time saying the word no," Darcy said.

"So you put no merit whatsoever in obliging a friend who wants to spend a little more time with you," Eliza countered.

"If they see that I am packed and ready to go, then it's rather suspicious that all they want is my company."

"Perhaps they're just being polite."

"Or perhaps they are trying to get something from me."

"Well, it depends on what sort of friend they are; are they close or just an acquaintance?"

"Yes, please, let's define the particulars," Charles broke in, chuckling. "How tall are they, what color is their hair? Have I known them for ten years or only two?" He laughed. "I tell you, Eliza, if Darcy weren't so tall and strong I wouldn't pay him half as much attention as I do. As you can see, he is pretty miserable company."

Charles was laughing, but a glance to Darcy showed that his subject wasn't so pleased. Will had leaned back a little farther in his seat, and his eyes lowered slightly. Eliza checked her laugh, feeling that Darcy may be offended; she may not like him, but she wasn't cruel. However, a few moments later, he raised his eyes back up to Eliza.

"Would you like to put on some music, Eliza?" he asked.

Eliza only laughed; clearly he only wanted to taunt her with his undoubtedly wide selection of composers and violinists she had never heard of, so she didn't reply. He, however, furrowed his brow and repeated the question.

"Oh!" she said this time. "I heard you the first time, but I guessed that you only wanted to make fun of my taste in music, and as I love overthrowing such devious schemes, I didn't answer. But now I've decided to tell you that no, I would not like to put on some music." She smiled. "Go ahead, hate me," she finished jokingly.

"I wouldn't dare," he replied, very seriously. Her smile faded as his dark green eyes bored into hers. What did he mean by it?

Caroline, clearly seething that Eliza was taking up so much of Darcy's attention, suddenly sprang up and smiled rather wickedly at Eliza.

"Eliza, let me show you about the room. Will has done such a wonderful job of decorating," she said, extending her hand.

Eliza looked away from Darcy, put down her book and lightly took Caroline's hand, standing up next to her. Caroline began to lead her toward the piano, glancing over her shoulder every so often at Darcy. She showed Eliza their extensive music collection, and while she leafed through the innumerous sheets of music, Eliza also couldn't help but sneak a glance at Darcy, who was directly in their line of sight. He was gazing at them, but his expression was unreadable, as usual.

"Won't you join us, Will?" Caroline called over to him a few moments later. A smile played at his lips.

"No, Caroline, my joining would only interfere," he replied.

"Interfere with what?" Caroline pressed.

"Well, as I see it, there are only two reasons you would place yourselves at a distance from the rest of us, and with either one, I would certainly interfere."

"What does he mean, Eliza?" Caroline asked. "Surely you know."

"Indeed, Caroline, I haven't the faintest clue. But clearly he's being mean to us, and we should ignore him," Eliza answered.

Caroline laughed. "You're so funny, Eliza! But Darcy, tell us what you mean."

"Surely, Caroline," he replied. "One motive is that you two have very secret matters to discuss, and the second is you have chosen that spot because it displays your figures in the best light. With the first you wouldn't be willing to discuss your matters with me, and if it is the second, I can much better admire you from here."

Eliza's mouth slightly dropped open at this speech; she had never heard anything even resembling sexual innuendo come out of William Darcy's mouth. Caroline, however, flushed and seemed very pleased. Nonetheless, she opened her mouth and said,

"Shocking! Eliza, how abominable is Darcy? How should we punish him?"

Eliza turned and rested her elbows on the piano, pondering Darcy, who still had a very slight smile on his face.

"Tease him. Laugh at him. Close friends as you are, certainly you know how best to go about it, Caroline," she said.

"I certainly don't!" Caroline cried. "We can't laugh at poor Darcy. He's too much of a gentleman to be laughed at."

"He cannot be laughed at? How wonderful for him, and yet what a pity for me. I do love to laugh."

"Caroline gives me too much credit," Darcy spoke up. "Even the best of men can be ridiculed by those whose purpose in life is to seek a laugh."

"Indeed," Eliza answered, "but hopefully you don't take me for one of them. I don't laugh at what is wise or good; I laugh at foolishness, weakness… and apparently you are neither a fool nor have weaknesses."

"It is impossible to have no weakness. But I admit I've spent a good deal of my life avoiding those weaknesses that lend themselves to ridicule."

"Like pride or arrogance," Eliza said with a wry smile, knowing he had no idea he was guilty of both.

"Arrogance is a weakness, yes. But pride – when there truly is superiority of intelligence, pride can be warranted."

Eliza had to bite back a smile. She could hear Caroline's teeth grinding.

"So you've studied Darcy thoroughly, Eliza… what do you conclude?" Caroline said, her voice icy cold.

Eliza smiled wide and said, "I have concluded that William Darcy is completely without fault. He says so himself."

"Certainly I haven't," Darcy argued. "I have my faults – I am, perhaps, too stubborn, at least in the views of others. I hold grudges far longer than I should… some call me resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever."

"That is a fault indeed," Eliza mused. "But I can't really laugh at it… resentment isn't terribly funny."

"There are faults in everyone that even the best education cannot overcome."

"And yours is a tendency to hate everyone," she said with a smile.

"And yours is to woefully misunderstand them."

She laughed, although she didn't know why. Caroline, her face nearly purple, declared loudly that she was going to put on music, and then proceeded to drag Darcy along with her. Eliza, feeling tired and needing to pack, excused herself and went upstairs. Once in her room, she plopped onto the bed and mulled over the events of the night.

She had spoken more tonight than she had her entire visit. And she had spoken more to Darcy than she'd ever had before… and all he had done was prove her right. He was proud even of his pride, and the 'good opinion once lost is lost forever' thing fit in so perfectly with his personality. And yet there had been those times when he looked right at her, with those mysterious green eyes, and it was as if he wanted to tell her something else, something more, something true, but couldn't.

Shaking her head, she forced the thought of Darcy out of her head and began to pack. Because now she had to worry about something far greater than Darcy or the Bingleys: her mother.

Darcy could not remember a livelier evening taking place in his apartment. All day, he had attempted to avoid Eliza… after his odd encounter with her in the library that afternoon, though, the day seemed shot. She had just been sitting there, on his window seat, as if she belonged there and had been sitting on that window seat every afternoon of her life. He had, quite un-Darcy-like, made a bit of a fool of himself and hastily left the room.

He supposed he had to thank Caroline, though, for dragging him in to a conversation. He could tell that the whole evening, Eliza had been doing her best not to laugh aloud or say something sarcastic. Instead, though, she had been witty, if a little bit mocking, and very well-spoken. Despite the few interruptions from Caroline, it was one of the best conversations he had had in recent memory. Her eyes had sparkled the entire time, and he spoke without thinking, a feeling that was rather liberating.

But when Caroline dragged him over to the stereo, and Eliza quickly exited to go upstairs, he was relieved. Even more relieved when he found out, from an oddly-acting Bingley, that Jane and Eliza were both leaving tomorrow. Paying so much attention to Eliza was quite dangerous.