Fitzwilliam Darcy had never been plagued by his dreams. He was a gentleman, dreams did not haunt him. Until he moved to Netherfield, this was quite true. However, said impregnable man had since been afflicted by dreams of a most serious nature. He found his dreams being haunted by one Elizabeth Bennet. The very same Elizabeth Bennet that he had pronounced barely tolerable weeks before.
Now, that being said, Mr. Darcy was also an early riser. From the time he was a lad, he never slept past sunrise, unless ill. Even now, the day after Netherfield's ball, Mr. Darcy found himself rising with the sun. Charles had held a ball the night before, and as such, the Netherfield party had not been able to retire to their chambers until the last guests, the Bennet's, had left.
As he tied his cravat by himself, as was his habit for days that he need not being so impeccably dressed. Adams, his valet, was an elderly man, who had been employed by the Darcy's longer then Mr. Darcy himself had lived. The man was gouty, and his joints stiffened in the cool air. Mr. Darcy looked at himself in the looking glass, and noted his tired eyes, and the dark circles beneath them.
"Pull it together," He told his reflection before leaving the room, feeling confident that he could shake off the very inappropriate thoughts he was having about Miss. Bennet.
He walked down to the breakfast room, expecting it to be empty, for although it was later then he usually ate, it was still much to early for any of the Bingley family to be awake. To his surprise, and horror, Caroline Bingley was sitting at the breakfast table, nursing a cup of tea. The sight of her in her bright orange frock successfully squashed any leftover ardor he had been feeling from his dreams.
"Ah, good morning Mr. Darcy" She stated as soon as he walked into the room. Her smile was sickly sweet. You could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she plotted her next move.
"Miss Bingley" He nodded. Instead of sitting, and reading the paper, as he usually would do, he instead wrapped a few pastries in a napkin.
"Are you leaving so soon Mr. Darcy?" Caroline asks, clearly disappointed.
"I am afraid that I have neglected Cavallo for far too long. Tell Charles I shall be back by mid-day" He bowed quickly, and exited the room. He now called for his valet, who brought him his riding gear.
"Thank you Adams" He tells the older man, who is almost slouching over the weight of the bundle in his arms.
"It is no problem, Master William. You shall want to bring this too-" He passes the younger man the heavy rain coat. "It looks as if it will storm in a few hours time"
Never has Adams ever been wrong about the weather. He says he can feel it in his joints. Darcy smiles and claps the man on the back in thanks. As he makes his way outside, he tucks his pastries into the coat for later. Perhaps he will explore Oakham Mount today; Sir Lucas has been pestering him about riding there.
His own horse was being housed in the stables with Bingley's collection of Shetland ponies, his two very amorous Arabian horses, and Caroline's pure white mare. When he arrived at the stables, Harry, the groomsman, was rolling in the hay with a litter of puppies. One escaped the pack and eagerly nipped at Darcy's fingers.
"Ah, sorry about Lucy, Mister Darcy" Harry said quickly, brushing himself off. "She's a right ole friendly thing, the runt o the litter," He whistled and the dog trotted back. "Just had a litter a lil over a month ago, mums a springer spaniel, dad was most likely a mutt. Looks just like eh mum though," He told him, picking up the puppy by the scruff of her neck. The puppy whined, but wagged her tail. "Lemme saddle up ole frosty, I'll be done in a nip," The man stated, referring to Darcy's horse that was a little wary of strangers.
While he waited, Darcy entertained himself by playing with the friendly pup from earlier. She was well trained for being so young, and rather cute. He would have to ask Charles about allowing Georgiana to keep her. He knew she, as the runt, would not be used for hunting. Harry came back leading his black stallion, Cavallo. His sister had named the horse when he had first purchased him.
"Here ya are sir" Harry said, passing over the reins. Darcy secured the saddlebag and his heavy coat, before mounting himself. He thanked Harry, before galloping off towards Oakham Mount. He needed the fresh air, to think, to breathe.
About 20 minutes of thinking only of Miss Bennet's fine eyes, he reached the outcropping of trees that surrounded the Mount on all sides. He dropped down from the saddle, tethered Cavallo to the tree, and sat on his great coat. He pulled out his pastries and ate one. As he stared off into the wilderness, he daydreamed.
She was standing above him, smiling down at him. Her eyes were alight with passion, adoration, and joy. She was laughing at something, teasing him perhaps.
"Fitzwilliam" She would whisper, coming closer. She fell to her knees in front of him, hands reaching for his chest, dragging him closer to her. Her breath was warm on his neck as she kissed her way to his lips. A feather light kiss on his brow, to his cheek, to his ear, to his neck. Just as she was about to reach his lips, she vanished.
He shook himself. He must stop thinking about her, and quickly. He was loosing his senses.
He was startled when he heard what appeared to be a scream in the distance. It sounded like a young woman. The gentleman in could not rest until he saw that whomever had screamed was safe. He tethered Cavallo to the tree, and made his way into the brush.
He heard another voice, a male, shouting obscenities. He paled. This whole situation was reminding him too much of his sister.
He moved quicker, crashing through the bracket, tearing his shirt and splashing mud about as he ran. He slowed his pace as he approached what appeared to be a clearing. He heard the patter of footsteps as they raced through a puddle, and snapped many a branch.
In an instant, a blur of brown curls and pale green fabric was crashing against him, almost setting him off balance. He grabbed the young woman's shoulder, and waist, to keep her upright. To his surprise, she screamed as soon as his hands touched her, and starting thrashing madly. He looked down at her in shock.
The screaming young woman was none other then Elizabeth Bennet, the object of his dreams.
"Miss Bennet, Miss Bennet" He called, holding her tight. He took in her tattered dress, her loose hair, and the red marks on her cheek that look very much like a hand. The most telling sign however, was the wild look in her eyes, the unfiltered fear. Her eyes were usually so bright, so lively, that the current terrorized fear was worrisome. What had happened? Who was the man he heard, and why was she running. "Miss Bennet, please calm down, you are safe now," He told her. She seemed to gain her wits again, as she stopped struggling against him.
"Mr. Darcy?" She asked, blinking up at him. "Thank god" She swayed violently on her feet, before collapsing into his arms in a faint.