Caroline Bingley wished she could strangle or poison Miss Eliza.
He had been hers.
Mr. Darcy hadn't made any promise yet, but he smiled and talked to her and let her use his Christian name without comment. He needed her dowry; he no longer disliked her; he liked the idea of being Bingley's brother-in-law.
Caroline had at last done it.
Then she came.
She strode in like a loose whore, with her sweat drenched dress and muddy skirts. Jane Bennet probably became sick solely to allow her sister to throw herself, like the slattern she was, at Mr. Darcy.
If only the creature could be thrown out. But she couldn't.
Caroline had been educated at a fine institution. She had two countesses among her acquaintances; her dowry was twenty thousand pounds. She would not lose. Her father never lost. He would do anything to win.
At first Caroline decided she would destroy Miss Eliza. Her plan was to pay a footman to hide in Miss Eliza's chamber and run out of it naked in the middle of the night. That would destroy Darcy's admiration for her wild antics.
It would not even be wrong; no doubt Miss Eliza allowed handsome servants to entertain her in secret. A girl who would walk across three miles of mud to display herself to a gentleman would not hesitate at any immorality.
Caroline went so far as to start a conversation with one of the footmen. She would suggest the plan to him if she decided she could trust the man
After three minutes Caroline decided she couldn't.
It was too risky. The servant would be caught and punished horribly, and he would say it was her fault, and Mr. Darcy would believe him. Besides a low person like that would be too frightened to attack a gentlewoman.
No, Caroline needed a different plan.
Her first plan had been inspired by how her father paid a Luddite leader to destroy a rival's machines. Her next was inspired by how he had agreed with a different rival that they would not compete so both could sell their wares at far higher prices.
She had never really disliked Miss Eliza.
Because Caroline had expected to destroy Eliza's reputation, Eliza had five days to flirt with Mr. Darcy before Caroline executed her new scheme. By this time Miss Bennet had recovered far enough that the Bennet sisters planned to leave the next day.
Miss Bennet sat in the drawing room, and she had all of Mr. Bingley's attention. After she got rid of Eliza, Caroline would need to end that relationship as well.
Like always Darcy and Elizabeth perched on their seats and leaned towards each other. They were talking again. They always talked, and Mr. Darcy always smiled at her. Eliza used those bold pretty eyes to keep his attention.
"Miss Eliza," Caroline's heart beat fast as she spoke over her rival's flirting. She had never done anything like this before. "I wish to discuss something with you." Caroline smiled uncertainly at Mr. Darcy and her brother. "Surely you would not mind if us ladies abandoned you for a few minutes."
Darcy looked intrigued, and Eliza shrugged and stood.
The two left the drawing room, and Caroline led Eliza around the corner to make sure their voices could not carry through the door.
Eliza smirked impertinently. "I had no notion we were in each other's confidence. Whatever do you wish to speak about?"
She had planned to carefully talk around the subject before suggesting her bribe to Miss Eliza. However, with her arm almost trembling from sudden tension, Caroline exclaimed, "Your flirting is useless! He will not marry you. He cannot afford to. Why are you uselessly wrecking my position?"
"I have no idea what you mean. I have not been flirting."
Caroline sneered and Eliza blushed.
"You only ruin my hopes, for you have none. It doesn't matter how you bat your eyes and tease him. He shall never marry you. His duty to his land and family legacy matters more to him than you ever shall."
Eliza blanched, but then she said, "He has little liking for you. I do not think he likes me either, but he certainly has no desire to marry you."
"Do not be coy. You've employed every sly, alluring trick you could find to attach him. You know your success. If you cease to encourage him to look elsewhere, he will marry me. Mr. Darcy is desperate to replenish his funds. Marriage to me would help him. Before you came here with the pretense of nursing your sister, I'd had him."
Eliza rolled her eyes. "Really? I doubt that. Mr. Darcy is not foolish enough to tie himself to the likes of you."
Caroline ground her teeth. Under her anger her stomach churned with worry that Eliza was right. "I shall offer you a deal. If you immediately absent yourself from Hertfordshire — visit that aunt and uncle in Cheapside you are so fond of — I shall give you five hundred pounds."
Eliza drew back with a repulsed expression.
"It benefits us both. He shall not marry you, so if you insist on pursuing him, you will gain nothing. I am being fair. Do you think you deserve more money? I can pay you seven hundred… No? Nine hundred? I will pay you a thousand — that would double your dowry. Surely you do not wish to blackmail me for more. I can give you a hundred in banknotes tonight and the remainder as a draft against my bank."
Eliza replied with a frozen voice. "I am not for sale."
Without any other word, Eliza walked down the hall and went up the stairs to return to her rooms.
Caroline stared after her, trembling again with unreleased anger and tension. That horrid, slatternly creature. Caroline pounded her hand hard against the paneled wood of the wall. Her hand stung, and the wood cracked.
It was impossible to calm herself. What had gone wrong? Was Eliza so sure she could attach Mr. Darcy that she wasn't concerned about the money? Was she right?
Maybe she should still get a footman to hide in Eliza's room. It would need to be done tonight. But that would mean facing another person and exposing herself. She didn't want to do that.
But this time it would just be a servant.
Caroline turned around and walked back towards the drawing room. When she crossed the corner of the hall, Darcy stood with a grave expression. Caroline startled and jumped an inch. Her hands trembled. "Why, Mr. Darcy" — her voice shook — "did you hope to see me?"
He didn't say anything. Caroline smiled submissively.
At last Darcy spoke. "I heard enough."
He turned around and walked back to the drawing room.
MDVMDVMDV
Darcy sat back down in his armchair and stared at the book on the side table. He had pretended to read it while actually talking to Elizabeth. Bingley's attention was completely on Jane, and Mr. Hurst sat at the card table with a half full decanter of port while he played a game of patience. Mrs. Hurst toyed with her bracelets.
"Hurst, you do not mind if I join you?" Darcy spoke as he pulled a wooden chair to the card table and poured himself an overfull glass of port.
"Not at all. Do you fancy a game of piquet?"
Darcy did not want to think more than he needed to. The liberated feeling he'd felt when he first heard Miss Bingley's attempt to bribe Elizabeth had already turned to depression. He needed her dowry to ensure the safety of Pemberley. He despised the prospect, but he would not flinch away from duty.
He could never marry Elizabeth, no matter how ardent his feelings.
"I would very much like the distraction."
Darcy drew the lower card and dealt. He did an awful job at the game, unable to concentrate. Miss Bingley reentered the room and walked up to stand behind Darcy and lean on his chair. He never should have thought she had the slightest good quality.
Where was Elizabeth? What was she thinking?
He could not marry her.
Darcy ignored Miss Bingley and pretended she wasn't there when she attempted to speak to him. He quickly finished his first glass of port and poured another. And then another.
Did his duty demand he marry Miss Bingley?
Darcy finished the decanter of port and rang for a servant to refill it. He lost several games to Mr. Hurst. At last Elizabeth reentered the room. She blushed at his wild gaze and hurried her sister up, saying it was time for them to head to bed.
The party broke up. Miss Bingley laid her hand on Darcy's arm, and he pushed it away. He was too drunk to inhibit his disgusted response. The alcohol gave him a loose out of control feeling, as though he could do anything.
The Hursts and Caroline left, but Bingley laid his hand on Darcy's shoulder. "You do not look well. What has bothered you tonight? Is it some matter about Georgiana?"
"In a way."
He would never have been able to marry Elizabeth. There was no difference between throwing away a resource worth tens of thousands of pounds — his ability to marry a wealthy girl — and spending that much. He would be like his father if he married a penniless girl to please himself.
He couldn't. No, no, no.
But if Georgiana had not fled, he would not need to marry Miss Bingley. Did he need to marry her?
Twenty thousand pounds. He wouldn't be like Father and throw money away to please himself.
Bingley pushed Darcy back into his seat and poured himself and Darcy another glass of port. "Well there's no use mulling it over alone. Tell me what is bothering you."
Darcy shook his head. He couldn't tell Bingley about his uncertainty and what he'd heard Bingley's sister attempt.
"Now, Darcy, you must share something."
"I am worried. Mr. Wickham — Georgiana shall be so unhappy and eventually impoverished."
"It is awful. A miserable situation — Georgie is a sweet girl, and she was too young to understand what a poor decision this shall be."
"Are you not supposed to say something comforting about how it shall work out?"
"That would not comfort you."
"By Jove, I hate this. Thirty thousand more pounds, I must act differently."
Bingley refilled Darcy's glass and drained his own.
"I have no choice. An endless corridor of unpleasant mornings and evenings stretches before me. I shall hate it. I will be even lonelier than ever before — but I must!" Darcy pounded his fist against the card table. The stacked deck jumped an inch and fell back onto the table in disarray.
Bingley laughed. "I am damned glad I was holding my cup. Now don't do anything insane. Besides things are not so bad. It is just money. You don't need to be so lonely, you could marry. I'm thinking of marrying myself."
"You think I should marry?"
"You'd be less miserable. If you don't want to live the way you always have, then don't. Listen: I do not tell you to be extravagant, but we both know you could spend far more than you have without being imprudent. I am in no hurry to be paid back — if that endless corridor of mornings bothers you so, you should set aside only a third of your income to reduce your debts instead of two thirds."
"That is the seductive voice my father used. If I flinch from my duty once, no matter how disgusting and unpleasant and vile the task, I might never stick to it again."
Bingley drained his glass. "What are you considering? By Jove, don't tear down the great house and sell if for raw materials. It can't be worth enough. You should rent the manor and live in a cottage on your estate if you are that desperate for a bit more speed in reducing your debts."
Darcy laughed with an edge of hysteria in his voice. He was glad Bingley didn't know what he was considering or that he had just described Bingley's sister as disgusting and vile.
Bingley laughed along with Darcy. The two lapsed into a companionable silence.
Darcy refilled his glass and drank more. He was too befuddled by the alcohol to feel miserable about marrying Miss Bingley. Even though Darcy knew he had already drunk too much, each time he told himself to stop, the impulsive desire for more overrode it.
After all, he was going to marry a woman he despised.
Bingley began to snore.
Darcy stood so he could wake Bingley up. He shook him considerably harder than he meant to because his hands were unsteady.
"Ouch." Bingley blinked at Darcy. "I shouldn't have fallen asleep on you, but you could've been gentler."
"Bingley, go to bed."
"No. You need the company. You are melancholy — eventually you'll admit what is bothering you and then you shall feel better."
"I assure you I will not. I need to be alone on this matter — you cannot help me. Besides, you will fall asleep again in ten minutes' time."
In the end Darcy half dragged Bingley out of the room and pushed him up the stairs. Darcy left the drawing room and stumbled into Bingley's sparse library. The air was cold, but the fire had been banked so Darcy could easily feed it back into a roar. There was a self-conscious deliberation to Darcy's movements as he stirred the fire up and added wood to it. It was stupid to manage a fire while as intoxicated as he was.
When the fire was cheerfully blazing Darcy tossed an additional log in for good measure and dizzily dropped himself into an armchair.
Damn, damn, damn.
He would keep a hawk's eye on every behavior of Miss Bingley after they married. He could never trust her to not try to cheat and steal and destroy his efforts.
Maybe it would be foolish to marry her.
Maybe the self-indulgent part of his mind which didn't give a tuppence about duty and right and which was just like his father should silence itself. He had decided to marry her. It would be irresponsible to throw away her dowry. He would marry her.
The room spun round Darcy.
He was becoming drunker even though he had stopped drinking a half hour ago. His stomach heaved, and when Darcy brushed his hand along his cheeks he could barely feel anything. Darcy closed his eyes and took deep breaths.
Soft footsteps sounded in the hallway and the handle of the library door was rattled from the outside.
Dear Lord, please don't let it be Miss Bingley.
The door opened. For a brief moment Darcy saw Elizabeth Bennet's rounded cheeks and dark eyebrows shadowed by the yellow light of her candle. She gave a small shriek of surprise and jostled her candle, putting it out.
"Mr. Darcy, you startled me!" She laughed warmly.
Darcy fumbled his way up and stood, leaning heavily on the arm rest of his chair. The light from the fire danced in small circles leaving a blurred image. Elizabeth was a dim shape barely visible in the gloom of the hallway. Darcy tried to behave as soberly as he could. He took a careful step away from the chair and waved exaggeratedly to ask her to enter. "Please, Miss Elizabeth, I cannot see you in that light."
Elizabeth knew it was improper to join him at this hour, and from his manner she saw he was quite deep in his cups. She could not resist the temptation. Elizabeth blushed with embarrassment and looked away from Darcy as she stepped into the room. Her flannel nightgown and heavy blue woolen robe were not precisely immodest, but she shouldn't converse with Darcy dressed this way.
She made an amused face and displayed a red cheeked smile. She would not let him intimidate her, though he were in his coat and tails, with that very white cravat, and she in her nightclothes.
His intense stare, the way he focused on her, unnerved Elizabeth. She felt flushed and warm all over. This was most improper. It was the most daring thing she had ever done. And he was not sober.
She'd realized after Miss Bingley tried to bribe her to leave that she half loved Mr. Darcy. He was clever and passionate and kind. Perhaps it was hopeless, after all he had only found her person tolerable, but now they were good friends. There must be some possibility he could come to love her.
When Elizabeth stepped closer and smiled, Darcy knew he had never seen anything so beautiful as Elizabeth. Her brown hair was let out in a braid, the fire glinted off her pretty eyes, and her blue robe clung around her so the curve of her bosom stood out. Darcy's mouth was parched. His wine befuddled brain desired to reach out and brush his hand along the curve of her hip and stomach.
Elizabeth's mouth was slightly open, and her wide eyes locked on him. She appeared to be caught in a hypnosis. Darcy knew too much of his mood appeared in his manner. He ought to send her away and go to bed himself.
She spoke in a breathy whisper, "I could not sleep; I wanted for a book to distract myself."
Darcy made no reply, and his eyes hung on her, as though he wished to permanently imprint her face and form into his brain. Was this a gaze of admiration? Elizabeth hoped her desire for him was shared.
Drawn, as though Darcy was a magnet and she iron, Elizabeth helplessly shuffled her feet in tiny steps closer to Darcy. His white forehead gleamed in the flickering light, and his intense blue eyes pierced her. Jittery jolts wrapped around her body.
"You're beautiful. The most beautiful…"
At Darcy's words everything became more intense. Elizabeth could feel everything; her mouth was dry; she watched and waited with a desperate intensity, concentrating on every sensation. Darcy stepped forward till he was very close to her. He raised his hand. He moved it slowly, so very slowly. Every nerve was tense with anticipation; he barely stroked his finger along her cheek.
Elizabeth leaned towards Darcy pushing her face against his hand. Mesmerized by the tender look in his eyes, she hoped this moment would never end. Darcy appeared entranced; his touch sent tingles through Elizabeth's body; a pleasant yet unnameable sensation tightened in her stomach and lower.
The moment possessed a dreamlike intensity for Darcy; Elizabeth did not move but her lips parted, and she panted swiftly. His finger continued to stroke the impossibly soft silk of her skin, and his heart thudded in his breast. Darcy gazed into her eyes. He saw permission in them.
He needed more.
Darcy cupped her cheek with his hand and stepped close to lay his lips on hers.
Butterflies fluttered through Elizabeth's body. She tasted port and something peculiarly like Darcy on his lips. In her stomach a bird hopelessly flapped trying to escape. She floated, and she felt impossibly heavy. They stepped so close together that her breasts and stomach rubbed against his clothes. Darcy's hand kept her head in place, and Elizabeth's eyes closed as she gave herself up to the sensation.
The taste of alcohol on his breath brought Elizabeth to her senses. Darcy was not himself. She was behaving in a shocking and immoral manner. She would sin if she continued. She wanted to stay against him like this forever. It hurt in her chest, as though something had been torn, when Elizabeth pushed herself away from Darcy and stumbled back.
Her cheeks were red; Elizabeth placed her palms against them and exclaimed, "This has been — that was —" Elizabeth's voice choked — it had been too beautiful for words. He did not say anything. It had been the most intensely beautiful moment of her life. "I must go."
She walked backwards, unable to look away from where he stood. He still held the hand which had cupped her cheek in the air. His lips were pale red. The sight of them hypnotized her. His eyes followed her. Elizabeth's hands ached to run through his wild hair, and she desired to press his lips against hers again, this time harder. She saw how a well-meaning girl could abandon morality and give herself over to a man.
She had reached the door when Darcy cried out, "Wait, Elizabeth." The desperate emotion in Darcy's voice stopped Elizabeth. She had moved so slowly because she hoped he would speak.
"I should not have kissed you. I know. I know. But I feel profounder melancholy than I have ever before; your presence — Elizabeth, your presence — I beg you: stay, talk with me a little."
Darcy's thoughts were muddled, and he was terrified she would leave him to himself. She froze, her delicate features fixed on him, the belt of her robe was tied around her waist. Her figure was a slender hourglass. At last she nodded, her brown hair waving around her small head.
Elizabeth walked back into the room but kept a sofa between them. "You are overwrought and shall remember when sober that you dislike my person." Elizabeth laid her tiny fine boned hand on the top of the sofa between them. Her expressive eyes never left his face.
The alcohol overcame Darcy's natural reticence. "Dislike your person? Nay, never — never say that! You are the most beautiful, and lovely, and adorable creature my eyes have ever laid eyes upon. It is not merely your beauty, your voice sings to me — like Odysseus I am lashed to a mast, and I struggle desperately to escape, so I can run to your presence and listen to your laughter and voice forever more. But, alas, the ropes which I asked to be bound with are too tight. That happiness, never shall it be mine."
Despite how her heart thudded from their kiss and the way the dancing hollow feeling in her stomach grew at his impassioned words, Elizabeth giggled and smiled with arch amusement at Darcy's speech. "Why, I had no idea you had such words in you. You do have skill at poetry, but the bottle is required for it to show. In vino poetas."
Elizabeth's smile caused bright explosions in Darcy's brain. "Nay — it is not the wine, but your fond presence. It is your beauty which authors my intoxication. It was you — you, Elizabeth — who the Bard spoke of when he said 'if I could write the beauty of your eyes, and in fresh numbers number all your graces, the age to come would say 'this poet lies; such heavenly touches ne'er touched earthly faces.' — You smile, Elizabeth, but it is true."
"I thought you did not like my appearance. I had reason to believe, you found me 'merely tolerable'."
"I apologized for that! I said I did not mean it."
The contrast between Darcy's flights of fancy and the sudden boyish frustration on his face made Elizabeth laugh. "You had been caught and knew it. It would've been quite boorish not to apologize. I discounted every kind word you said about my appearance then."
Darcy stepped next to the couch Elizabeth hid behind. She did not back away. He laid his hand on hers. "Do not discount this: Elizabeth, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen — your face and smile — that pretty delightful arch smile, that twist in your lips where you pull the right a little higher, and it creates a dimple below those freckles on your cheek. That smile has haunted me since first I saw it."
Elizabeth barely breathed. "Why then did you say I was tolerable but not handsome?"
Darcy flushed with shame. "I had hardly seen you and was ill tempered that evening. It was abominable of me. Those words hurt you. I am often foolishly backward in company. Yet, believe me, since first you smiled at me, I have been most tempted and bewitched by you."
Elizabeth gripped the sofa between them, glad for its barrier. Darcy's hand still covered hers. She panted and moistened her lips. She felt a swell of happiness work its way into a broad smile. "Why, Mr. Darcy, I always believed poetry to be the enemy of love, but I do think I like you when you speak in this manner."
At Elizabeth's words and smile, Darcy knew the situation had careened out of control.
He had never held the reins of his own emotions.
Darcy covered his eyes and groaned. "No, truly I am drunk, and you ought not take seriously anything I say. For on the morrow, I must ask Miss Bingley to marry me."
Elizabeth felt kicked. Her hand ached to be covered by his again. Miss Bingley's insults returned to Elizabeth's mind. He was rejecting her again, like he had the first night. Tears swam in Elizabeth's eyes, and she looked away from Darcy to brush them away furiously.
Elizabeth cried out, "How dare you! How dare you kiss me and then make love to me with your words and eyes when you intend to marry another. You have not acted the gentleman."
Darcy removed the arm which covered his face. The pain in his eyes made it impossible for Elizabeth to rage at him. "I have not — I know. I ought never drink again. I have behaved most wrongly towards you — I wish I never touched you, never looked at you, never — Elizabeth, I have no choice. I must. I must marry Miss Bingley."
"Why? You care not a fig for her! I cannot believe you are a man who cares for nothing but the wealth a girl might bring you."
"I have no choice — the debts attached to my family home and name must be paid. I have been burdened all my life by my father's extravagance, and now my sister's elopement has forced me to borrow thirty thousand more. Do not think I dress this way out of preference; do not think I travel between London in Derbyshire by post out of preference; do not think I ever would have borrowed from my friend Bingley had I any choice. But I owe some ninety thousand pounds and cannot ignore any path to reduce that debt."
Ninety thousand pounds!
She had always heard his debts were vast. Ninety thousand seemed an unimaginably vast and endless sum to Elizabeth. Her knees went weak, and she stumbled around to sit heavily on the couch. She couldn't even tell him again to ignore his debts. It was too great a sum. Everything he spoke had always been about duty.
Darcy backed away, now it was he who kept the distance.
"Oh."
Darcy wobbled into the armchair across from her. Elizabeth made a piteous whine, and she looked at him with heavy eyes.
Darcy waved his hand in a large circle. "So you see — you see my situation. There is no choice, I have no choice. I must marry for a large dowry."
Elizabeth began to cry. Darcy's stomach clenched, and he longed to reach out his hands and comfort her. But he had sobered enough to know that would be terribly stupid. Darcy gripped his armchair and kept still.
Elizabeth hurt because of his fate. The enormity of Darcy's debt erased Elizabeth's resentment. He was the best man she knew, and his life was irretrievably ruined by the misbehavior of his closest relations. He only wished to be a good gentleman. He only wished to meet obligations he had no part in creating.
She cried. He would marry Miss Bingley. There was no sense of jealousy, just unhappiness. Darcy would be unhappy with that horrid woman. She saw it every day in her own father's marriage. A marriage between two whose minds were so different was doomed to misery.
"You can't marry her! She shall drive you to distraction. She is not right for you. She understands nothing of your mind or of your soul. I can see your heart — your soul. She is vicious and immoral. She offered to pay me a thousand pounds if I left Hertfordshire to avoid you."
"I know. I heard her. I know I shall be unhappy. That matters not. I do not seek my own happiness; it is not my place to do so. My duty towards my family and the future demands I do not act to please myself."
"Then be prudent. Your present encumbrances might be relieved, but you cannot trust her. Whatever she says now, she would spend and spend. Your duty does not point towards her. Any woman would be delighted if you showed them attention. Even though — I understand. Ninety thousand pounds. You cannot marry me, but you can find some woman besides Caroline Bingley with money enough."
Darcy blinked at Elizabeth, suddenly unsure. Her words always made sense to him, but he was not sure if it was infatuation or wisdom. He did not want to seize an excuse to avoid his duty.
"Mr. Darcy — your heir, the boy who shall carry on that family legacy. Caroline Bingley would be no fit mother for him."
"Mayhap you are right."
"Promise me. Make a promise not to marry her."
"I promise I shall think on it. I am not such a fool as to make decisions of great import when befuddled by wine and, and — you." Darcy gave her a meaningful stare. Elizabeth blushed to the roots of her hair. Her entire body became warm again.
Darcy watched her; she was red cheeked and beautiful. He longed to again touch her, to pull her tight against him and kiss her. He felt the light headed elation her body would give.
She licked her lips and leaned towards him. Her robe fell open revealing the line of her bosom encased by her thin nightgown. Darcy was frightened he would kiss Elizabeth and perhaps not stop. She was so beautiful. He forced himself to stand and break the spell. "Elizabeth, we must part. I must leave. If someone were to see us together in this manner…"
She nodded. "We must." Neither of them moved.
Darcy seized and squeezed Elizabeth's hand. Then he forced himself to walk to the door and leave.