Chapter Two
Across the field stood a great, black steed in repose after a strenuous ride. His rider sat atop, tall and stately, his back strong, straight and elegant, his clothing perfectly pressed and riding boots immaculate. His windswept, unruly hair was the only telltale sign of the exertion after the vigorous flight through the fields. He had left for his ride shortly after speaking with Bingley. "The man is insane!" he thought, "and he'll be truly bound for Bedlam with a mother-in-law like her!"
Darcy grimaced. He knew that it wasn't Bingley he was mad at: it was himself. He danced with her last night, and as she teased him, turning her fine eyes and arch smile on him, he knew he was lost. If he didn't leave now he couldn't trust himself to do the right thing, and he would be just as bad as Bingley.
"Heaven forbid," said Darcy under his breath. He had broken his resolve not to pay her any attention last night, singling her out after watching her all evening, and then she fought with him! She had thrown Wickham at him! ... Not literally, otherwise he would have relished the opportunity to strangle the blackguard. No, she defended the rogue, called him a friend and pitied him. She had been taken in by his lies, HER! Clever, witty, discerning Elizabeth deceived by a common rake! How could she not see through him? What stories had Wickham spun to make Elizabeth believe that HE was the villain in this piece? Boreas, his horse, pulled on the reins. Darcy hadn't realised how his grip had tightened, he loosed the leather and patted Boreas on the neck.
His eyes roamed the grassy plain, the empty expanse a balm to his soul. He felt as though he could ride from one end of the country to the other, and still it would not be far enough. He went to turn his horse but, glancing towards something in his peripheral, he jerked his head back toward the fence on the far left. There she was, the object of his thoughts, illusion of his dreams, the affliction and antidote all at once. A spectre in the distance, but this was no illusion... She was not smiling at him, laughing with him, teasing and tempting him as she always did in his imaginings. The Elizabeth at the fence was in fact there.
The day was cool as clouds blocked the rays of the November sun, a light breeze rustled what little leaves were left on the trees, and the ground was soft and dewy after the morning frost had melted. Darcy's gaze was fixed as he had begun to wend his way toward her, subconsciously guiding Boreas to Elizabeth's whereabouts. He froze when he was close enough to better see her demeanor, just shy of 100 metres behind her. She looked somewhat sullen, and anger was clear from her stance. She thrust a hand into her pocket and withdrew it again. She picked up the corner of her shawls and drew it roughly over her face. She had been crying. Darcy's heart wrenched at the thought.
Elizabeth shut her eyes and, holding her hair back from her face, let the cool breeze sting her tear-stained cheeks. She wasn't upset over her mother, she was used to her ire by now. No, it was more than that; it was her family in general, a combination of her mother's impropriety, Lydia and kitty's ridiculous and indecorous flirting, Mary's stoic and solemn nature, and her fathers decidedly indolent and lackadaisical attitude towards them all. She loved her Father deeply but he was not one for hard work. In fact, if it required leaving his study, he was already going to be dreaming up a way out. He loved her, and he appreciated her, teaching her subjects that a lady could have no use for and, in actual fact, was not supposed to know. He nurtured her thirst for knowledge with Latin texts, Philosophy, math, and even allowed her to glance some writings on agriculture and estate management. She knew more about politics than many young gentlemen did, and certainly was more able to converse on the topic with originality and insight, unlike many the 'educated' young man who would simply learn the textbooks rote. She was the son he didn't have, but he had in essence ignored the rest of her sisters, leading to all but Jane growing up badly lacking.
She sighed, her anger at last run out, and pushed herself away from the fence. She stood for a moment, staring back from whence she came, and then, resigned to her fate, she made her way back.
Darcy watched as she walked away. She had been crying, Elizabeth, crying! Why? She was so strong, so resilient; he couldn't imagine what could cause her to cry unless it was truly distressing. "Wickham!" He blanched at the thought that he could have hurt her, but then remembered the coward had run away to hide in London last night. He looked on as she disappeared across the adjoining field, watching her as she walked out of his reach and out of his sight. He knew he had to leave. It was hard enough to watch her walk away, trying to leave, and to pretend that he had never known a woman like her existed. He would surely be driven insane if he didn't leave soon. He pulled the reins, and he and Boreas made a slow trudge back to the stables.
~oOo~
Elizabeth made her way up the steps of Longbourn and into the entranceway, discarding her shawl and creeping her way toward the stairs. As she passed the parlour, listening hard in an attempt to discern her mother's whereabouts, she froze. "OH! Jane, just think, 'Mrs. Bingley,' oh how well that sounds! Mr. Bingley, you are too good, Sir! You do us such an honour! Thank the man, Jane! Oh my your trousseau, we must go to London for your trousseau!" came the shrill voice of Mrs. Bennet through the heavy wood.
Elizabeth turned to doorknob and, opening the door, peered into the room cautiously. There sat Mary at the table, book in hand, looking pious and unmoved. Lydia and Kitty were, as per usual, giggling over one another and whispering nonsense. Mrs. Bennet sat facing the chaise, which was occupied by her eldest daughter and Mr. Bingley. The couple sat as close as could be considered proper, their bodies inclined to each other and wide unabashed grins across their flushed faces.
Jane glanced over to the door as Elizabeth stepped in, her smile widened and her eyes grew misty. "Oh Lizzy, I am so happy!" she said as she stood.
Mr. Bingley rose behind Jane and exclaimed, "Miss Elizabeth, your dear sister has made me the happiest of men, she has agreed to be my wife! I hope you don't object to a brother in me?"
Elizabeth hurried to her sister's side. "Jane, I could not be more pleased! Mr. Bingley, of course I would love to have you as my brother, especially since it means my sister's perpetual happiness!" she said smiling.
They all smiled brightly, Jane and Elizabeth grasping hands, and Bingley sweetly fawning over his dear angel. Even Mrs. Bennet smiled as she watched her two daughters, that is until Lydia decided to have her share of the conversation. "Lizzy?" said she. "Don't you want to know where your betrothed is?" She laughed and Kitty snorted.
"Lydia!" exclaimed Jane, "Mr. Collins is not to be made fun of, it is very cruel of you," she pleaded. Lydia looked ever so slightly contrite and then burst into laughter again, before leaving the conversation to ask Kitty about the ghastly dress she'd seen on Miss King yesterday. It was enough, though, to remind Mrs. Bennet of the morning's debacle.
"Yes Miss Lizzy, you must not think for a moment you are forgiven for I shall never ever forgive you. You must bear that in mind, for I shall be far too busy with dear, sweet Jane's wedding to remind you as often as you deserve! To lose a mother's esteem is a grave loss indeed!" Elizabeth and Jane flushed and glanced to Mr. Bingley, who looked confused and embarrassed for a moment but then returned his gaze to Jane, who flushed even deeper. Elizabeth turned to her mother, her eyes pleading her to stop. It worked. "Oh... Well, I suppose it does not matter now. I shall begin plans for the wedding post haste." Her eyes softened as she looked into the distance and sighed, "Mrs. Bingley..."
~oOo~
"Lizzy, I am so happy! He loves me, Lizzy! He loves ME! I do not deserve such admiration from such a man, he is so perfect, Lizzy!" her sister said as she walked through the door then fell back on Elizabeth's bed and laughed.
Elizabeth smiled at her dearest sister, closing the door she held open, and crossed the room. She lay on her side next to Jane, propped up on her elbow as she smiled down at her. "Dear, sweet Jane, you do deserve this, trust me! You both are quite deserving of one another and very much in love, I dare say!"
"You shall be my bridesmaid won't you, Lizzy? I cannot ask another, it must be you. Oh Lizzy, it all seems so surreal, so dreamlike!"
"Well, it is not a dream Jane, no matter how often you have seen Mr. Bingley in your sleep, I can assure you this is very much real," laughed Elizabeth as Jane blushed.
The two spoke late into night, both aware that their night-time conferences were soon to be brought to a close when Jane left.
The next morning, Elizabeth rose with the sun, as they were due to visit Netherfield for tea. Elizabeth was not looking forward to spending time with Mr. Darcy or Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, but she would not leave Jane alone in their clutches. She knew what they thought of the society here; she had seen the looks that had passed between the two during their stay in Hertfordshire, even heard some of the barbs they'd shared. "They may like Jane, but they certainly don't bear the rest of her family with any affability or manners," she thought. "That will have to do I suppose, besides, Mr. Bingley will take great care of her I am sure."
In fact, Bingley was so very determined to have his dear Jane and take such very great care of her that he had spent the better part of yesterday arguing and coaxing his two elder sisters. He went from kind and pleading, to reasoning, and finally to threats. And threatening was something Bingley did not do. Such a rare occurrence was it, in fact, that Caroline and Louisa sat silenced and dumbfounded for over a minute; just enough time for Mr. Bingley to say his piece.
"Look here, I've had quite enough. I will be marrying Jane." He stopped after blurting out her Christian name, for although he may have a right to speak it now, with his two quickly sickening sisters, he thought a little moderation of his affections was in order.
"Miss Jane Bennet," he amended, "and we will live here. At Netherfield." He continued, with a slight anxiousness. "And if you cannot accept that then you can... Can... Leave. Louisa, if you are so desperate to return to town, you and Mr. Hurst may go." he said matter of factly. But his voice became grave as he turned to the second lady. "Caroline..." He let out a sigh. "I cannot have you ruin things between me and Miss Bennet. You can go with the Hursts or to our aunt in Scarborough if you cannot maintain enough civility to stay here. You must accept that Jane shall be my bride and her family must be treated as our own. I cannot allow you to degrade them any further!" She grimaced, she had fought with him for hours and he'd refused to back down. Usually it only took a little coaxing to bend Charles' arm, but in this he was unmoving. Caroline Bingley swallowed and, with no small amount of pain, she accepted his terms.
The morning passed quickly, with little worth mentioning; Caroline was sullen and moody, but reined in her temper in the presence of her houseguest, Mr. Darcy. Her ire was aimed where Charles would not get word of it, the servants. Her mark at present was Abigail, who was currently fixing her coiffure for the pending tea. "No, no, no, NO! Really is it so difficult? It is a few twists and simple knots, start again!" The poor girl took out the hairpins for the third time that hour and began again. She was accustomed to Miss Bingley by now, and knew how she primped and preened to excess for even an afternoon tea, even more so when Mr. Darcy was about.
Caroline looked into the glass, imagining how easily her new maid would fashion her hair when she was Mrs. Darcy. "And if the half wit Abigail couldn't handle placing a few hair pins, she'd be paid in them until she could." She thought, smiling crookedly at her reflection.
Mr. Bingley paced the parlour in anticipation, stopping every few minutes to imagine how it would be when Jane was mistress... He stared off into the distance, a silly grin on his face, eyes dreamy and head fallen to one side. He was lovesick.
Mr. and Mrs. Hurst sat apart from one another, Mr. Hurst on a chaise, already reclining slightly, thinking about food and hunting. Mrs. Hurst sat upright on a small plush chair by the fire, playing with her bracelets and rings, thinking about nothing in particular except, perhaps, bracelets and rings.
Darcy was less inclined to daydream, it was far too dangerous as he knew exactly where his thoughts would lead him; he'd be in the throes of a romantic nuance about Elizabeth in seconds if he wasn't careful, picturing her as she walked the grounds at Pemberly, smiled blissfully, teasing him and bringing forth his laughter.
He raked a hand through his hair and, his hand grasping the his unruly curls at the back of his head, he let out a groan and allowed his head to fall back into the chair he occupied, un-clasping the hand which trapped his locks. He had been trying to read more than a single page of... whatever book he held, without being distracted and was failing miserably; somehow he'd wound up sat exactly where he had when he and Elizabeth had found themselves together in the Netherfield library. She was so perfect, so serene, her eyes bright and curious as she read, the corners of her lips curling up ever so slightly when amused... What he would give to kiss those lips. She was bewitching: beautiful, witty, fearless, perfect and yet so irrevocably beneath his consideration! It was a cruel twist of fate, hateful, painful torture to his sensibilities! "But there is no other like her..." he murmured.
He shook his head as he growled and pushed himself forcibly up from the chair. He could not continue this way, it was ridiculing! The master of Pemberly acting like a lovesick fool… But he was not in love! No. It was merely an infatuation... "Bordering on obsession if I'm not careful!" he thought.
Mr. Darcy had never been in love; in fact Mr. Darcy had never been in anything as far as matters of the heart went. He could certainly appreciate the fairer sex, he knew what was considered beauty by the fashionable classes and he even knew what he found attractive. However, from past experience, the women who had held any noteworthy features had a tendency to shatter any appreciation he had when they began simpering and fawning over him. Their propitiation was sickening and, though considered to be quite accomplished, they had nothing original to say. They were well read, but they simply spewed forth whatever opinion the schoolmaster had told them or, more often than not, whatever was the 'fashionable' opinion.
He had, of course, thought about a wife, but she was a faceless figure, a Mistress for Pemberly, sister for Georgiana and friend, confidant and partner for himself. But over these weeks she had taken on a face, the face that haunted his dreams, and she had a voice, a laugh, which was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. And those eyes, her eyes... He shook his head, this had to stop, he WOULD defeat this infatuation! He'd go back to London and forget all about Hertfordshire and impertinent country misses.
With this resolution in mind he began to deliberate of his best means of escape. He could not lie to Bingley, but he could always use business as an excuse, as there was, after all, always business for him to attend to. That was all he did really: business. His whole life had become work; he worked for Pemberly and Darcy House, his tenants and servants all needed him. He worked for his sister, at providing her a good education, life and future. He worked for his family, his cousin, aunts and uncles all needing him for various reasons. Even Bingley needed him, considering he was here now to teach him to manage an estate and he had certainly saved him from many a scrape in the past. How could he be anything BUT a paragon on honour and duty? Fitzwilliam Darcy looked back and thought over the past 6 years of his life and realised he could no longer remember the last time his days hadn't felt like drudgery. He dragged a hand over his face, willing his mind to turn to the problem he faced: how to escape Hertfordshire.
Bingley had already started talking about the wedding and, although he hadn't actually asked Darcy to stand up with him yet, he'd been saying things like, "I'll be shaking like a leaf, I'm sure, Darce! That'll be your job... To steady me that is!" It went without saying, really, for they were like brothers and it was like an unstated agreement that they'd stand as groomsman for the other. He only hoped that Bingley wouldn't ask him to stay here, so long before the wedding. He couldn't stay, not now; he had to abate this foolishness, this ridiculous unrelenting embarrassment, for it was just that, an embarrassment! How could HE, a Darcy, be drawn in by nothing more than a pretty face and a pair of fine eyes! "...But she is so much more than that," he thought, before he banished the unwelcome musing to the depths of his mind. He had to leave, and soon.
~oOo~
By the time Jane and Elizabeth arrived, Darcy had managed to fix his face into an expressionless stare, making him look austere as never before. His hard, dark eyes gave a swift examination of the guests as he bowed curtly and gave his succinct greetings before he turned to the window again. Elizabeth was seated in a chair adjacent to Miss Bingley's, while Jane and Mr. Bingley sat on a chaise together. Mr. Hurst excused himself on business, and Mrs. Hurst feigned a headache, which was regarded with a bitter scowl from her sister.
Bingley made an effort to encompass everyone into the conversation at first, but his attentions soon turned solely to Jane and his voice dropped a little to give some semblance of privacy. The other three occupants of the room could not have felt the awkwardness more keenly. Miss Bingley had no interest in speaking to Elizabeth and, as much as she'd love to indulge Mr. Darcy's brooding, she could hardly start discussion the failings of Hertfordshire society while she sat with them! Elizabeth regarded her sister and soon-to-be brother and smiled, thinking how serene they were together. She had little to say to anyone else in the room, and as far as Miss Bingley was concerned, they had an unacknowledged agreement to simply be in disapproval of each other, and not attempt any conversation that could heighten or lessen that, the latter being highly unlikely. By now Mr. Darcy must be well aware of how she saw him after making her knowledge of his treatment towards Wickham evident. "He could hardly expect someone who knows his true character to engage in any conversation with him," she mused inwardly.
Mr. Darcy, on the other hand, had almost forgotten about the conversation at the ball, or even Wickham for that matter, for his mind had been so engaged upon alternating thoughts of Elizabeth and finding a way to leave Netherfield that he had no capacity to recall what was said between them as they danced that night. So he glared out of the window, feeling, for the first time in many years, lost.
It was in the midst of this silence that Miss Bingley seemed to regain her voice. "Miss Eliza, there is so little amusement to be found here in Hertfordshire, I do not know how you can tolerate it! I long to be about the ton," she said, her voice dripping with poisoned sweetness.
Elizabeth pulled her eyes from Mr. Darcy's back, not realising she had been staring at his broad, stiff shoulders. "I cannot say I agree Miss Bingley. I find little enjoyment about the ton myself, save for the theatre and a few other aspects, and I see no great advantage over the beauty of the country," she said.
"Well," began Caroline, "I suppose that when one moves in the right circles, one finds more pleasure in what they have to offer during a season." she said, glancing to Mr. Darcy.
Elizabeth was in no mood to be the subject of another deluded woman's derision. She had been putting up with her mother's for long enough since refusing Mr. Collins, and so she chose to engage in whatever web Miss Bingley was attempting to spin, confident that her wit exceeded that of the lady. "You would rather be situated in London for the better part of the year then?" she asked.
"Why yes, it is the wont of most families within the... Higher circles, you see."
"I do, and I suppose that in a country estate, your accomplished social skills would be rather wasted," said Elizabeth, gesturing to the surrounding estate.
Miss Bingley's eyes lit up at this as she replied. "You have quite no idea. I long for the finer society I have become accustomed to. I often find those who are not exposed to London society enough in life are... Lacking." she said, looking somewhat pityingly at Elizabeth but ever the victor.
Bingley and Jane had remained oblivious to the conversation around them, but at some point during its execution, Mr. Darcy had turned around and stepped closer. Elizabeth looked over to him and, with bold mirth in her eyes and a barely concealed smile, she said, "Mr. Darcy, I understand that you spend the majority of your year at your estate, do you not? What is your opinion on the influence of the country to that of the ton? Does it truly deplete ones senses so?" she asked and watched from the corner of her eye as Miss Bingley's face paled and her mouth fell in a most unbecoming manner. Mr. Darcy smirked and looked admiringly at the witty woman before him as she met his gaze a lifted her chin in defiance.
"My sister and I do spend the better part of our year at Pemberly, yes. Neither of us finds the attractions that London offers particularly engaging... Save for the theatre of course."
She was a little taken aback. Was Mr. Darcy actually agreeing with her, encouraging her? No doubt this was some cruel joke he had formulated. She thought it safest not to go on, for though she may have caught Miss Bingley on her slip up, Mr. Darcy was no fool. She could just imagine the sort of game he could pull her into. So, she merely smiled and raised an eyebrow as she turned back to a thoroughly chagrined Caroline Bingley. By now the latter had regained some composure and was anxious to seek her revenge.
"Miss Eliza, I am so very sorry that we could not accommodate all the... Fine friends I'm sure you had hoped to see at the ball last week; you and your younger sisters must have been most despondent for the lack of... Certain people." She glanced at Mr. Darcy as she said it, raising her eyebrows as if to jest but he walked over to the mantle, his brow stern again and hands tight behind his back.
"I'm afraid I have not the pleasure of knowing who you could mean, Miss Bingley," said Lizzy cautiously.
Caroline's lips curled and she leaned towards Elizabeth as though sharing a secret, but was sure to speak loud enough for Darcy to hear. "I understand that several ladies have found the society of 'particular' officers to their liking. It was a shame that some of them had not been able to attend. I am sure your family must have felt the loss keenly." At this Mr. Darcy started. He really had let the meeting with Wickham slip his mind, how could he be so careless? It simply served as stronger proof that his hasty departure would be vital.
During his musings, Elizabeth had turned to Miss Bingley with an arch smile and, with subtle humour in her voice, she replied. "It was borne as well as could be expected. Though I'm sure that there are 'some' who did not notice any of the guests... The lack thereof, that is... of course." She said, glancing toward Bingley and her sister before turning a somewhat triumphantly knowing smile back on Miss Bingley. The latter grimaced slightly and gave a perfunctory "indeed."
The room fell into silence, save for the murmured converse between Jane and Bingley, as the ladies sipped tea and Darcy plotted his escape, forcing his eyes to cease their straying to the beauty that was his captor. The ladies eventually left to peruse the house and rooms which would soon be Jane's, the lady herself reluctantly tearing her gaze from her betrothed.
Mr. Darcy was usually a perceptive individual, and he prided himself on his ability to discern most situations and people, but as of late he seemed to miss an awful lot. In fact, had he merely looked up from his brooding to where his friend and Miss Bennet sat, he would have seen the look of arrant love written across her face. And if he'd looked at what was apparent rather than what, in his arrogance, he expected to see in Elizabeth's features as she looked at him, he would have seen ridicule and contempt, not the playfulness or coquettish wiles. He knew she was witty and not like any other woman of his acquaintance, and he found her to be even more handsome than any woman he'd met! But she had to be using some form of feminine artifice to entrance him, or so he had, in his supercilious manner, allowed himself to believe.
And so, being so wholly unaware of how witless he was being and with his usual conceited bravado, he turned to Bingley and said, "I hope you do not regret your decision, Charles. There is little that can be done now, but I sincerely hope your spontaneity has not served you ill in this." Bingley stared at Darcy, dumb founded.
"Are you completely mad, man? Do you mean to tell me that even after all you have seen and heard between Jane and I, you still believe her indifferent?" Darcy turned to face him directly, slightly taken aback by Mr. Bingley's abruptness.
"All I have seen, Charles, is that she is unchanged in her attentions toward you. And it is quite impossible to hear anything which passes between the two of you since you refuse to speak loud enough to include anyone else in your conversation." Bingley coloured a little but the sense of shock that overcame him shone through.
"Good God, Darcy! You really are an arrogant ass at times. Jane... Miss Bennet has declared herself most vehemently on several occasions, and again this morning, rather too loudly in fact. Did you not notice the way Caroline spirited her off as a result? I thought you more astute than that." Darcy stared, blinked hard and then shook his head; he really was losing his mind.
"Forgive me Charles, I do not mean into interfere any further. In fact I must be away to town this week, I should be gone for some time." he said.
"Gracious, man! There's no need to leave, I can see you've been distracted these recent months; I take no offence to your not noticing Jane's affections. I..."
Darcy winced and broke in. "Bingley, it has nothing to do with that. I have business of my own to attend to," he said sternly before softening his voice, looking at his friend and saying, "Please, forgive me if I have been... neglectful. I have had... A lot to consider as of late." He twisted his signet ring and his brow darkened as he shrunk back into himself.
Bingley walked over to his friend and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Darcy, you always have my assistance... in anything, and my ear if you need it!"
Darcy gave a halfhearted smile and nodded at his friend. "Yes Bingley, and I thank you... I will leave in two days time."
A.N: the reviews are so motivating