A/n: So hey there everybody!
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:… yeah, life happens, and occasionally an author dies temporarily, but I'm back now! Heehee! At least for a short while. I gave you an extra long chapter to make up for it! Please, please don't be mad at me… Reviews are much loved and are proof that I haven't completely died yet! Thank you for all staying with the story, it means the world to me!
Summary: After running away from her domineering grandmother, the Duchess, Eleanor (our heroine) runs away to London, dressing up as a gentleman in order to live independently. There, she tries to fit in to London society by joining a gentlemen's club and attending parties, even meeting Mr. Bingley himself!, but she cannot control the rampant gossip that her identity has stirred up.
Eleanor walked through the door of Mr. Bingley's townhouse, located in a very fashionable part of town. Well he definitely has money, and lots of it. Can't seem to escape the wealth Eleanor thought to herself with a smirk. She was met by the door by an old footmen, probably had been with the family or years. She handed off her overcoat and hat, and was led into the drawing room. Eleanor could hear the flirtations of a desperate woman even before she saw the door. Oh dear, can never seem to escape them either.
Passing through the doorway, the bright red hair of Mr. Bingley caught her attention quickly. As she was introduced, a woman standing to the left of Mr. Bingley stared at her with judgmental and cold eyes. The woman had raven hair, a thin nose topped by haughty arched brows. And her dress! Eleanor had never seen a more obnoxious peacock blue. It only provided a bigger contrast to the dark and tall man that stood next to her. Her breath hitched in her throat as soon as the two locked eyes. Eleanor had only seen one man more attractive than him, and thinking of that man was out of the question. Her reaction was not to be mistaken or love, however. The man had dark eyes that seemed to break through her façade that she had spend weeks piecing together, stripping away the character that gave her the confidence to commit her audacious actions. All of a sudden, Eleanor felt like the most ridiculous fool, dressed up in an alien costume. Mr. Bingley's voice broke her trance.
"Andrew! I'm most happy that you were able to make it to our little gathering. Please let me introduce my sister, Caroline Bingley" – remembering her etiquette lessons, Eleanor took the lady's hand, bowing over it slightly then releasing it, Miss Bingley gave a small sneer in response, "and my dear friend, Mr. Darcy." The two gave a slight head nod as society required them to do. When Eleanor shifted her eyes away, she could feel Mr. Darcy's questioning gaze continuing to bore holes in her.
"Darcy, Caroline, let me introduce you to my new friend Lord Andrew Riddell." At the sound of "his" title, Caroline's eyes lost their cold stare, and attempted to gain a kinder, hopeful light. Eleanor thought her whole attempt made Caroline look pained, like she hadn't been used to genuine smiling.
"You are very young to be a lord," Caroline half sneered, half flirted. Eleanor decided that she did not like this experience at all.
"My father died when I was young and I took over his title as soon as my relatives felt appropriate. There was a whole estate to be managed and my sister needed a strong sibling to guide her."
"What a model of perfect aristocracy," Darcy commented, "If only more of your kind were to take up this same model, corruption would be crushed."
"You are surely mistaken, Mr. Darcy. I was under the impression that all in this room were equals in class. The only perks that my title gives is automatic entry in gentlemen clubs, and the occasional raised eyebrow when one of us obscure nobles comes out from hiding in the country to experience the London season. Otherwise, I conclude that we are of same stature, well, disregarding experience in life, in which you most decidedly have the upper hand."
"Well matched Lord Riddell," Darcy replied with a small grin.
"Your obscurity is true for sure," Caroline, the flirtations gone, said, practically looking down her nose at Eleanor, though Eleanor was not sure how; they were the same height.
Eleanor brushed Caroline's harsh comment off. No woman was going to humiliate her, she was a man for goodness sakes! "You have no idea as to how many nobles are hiding up in the country, either avoiding public scandal or reading their lives away. Though I am not the former, I am afraid that I am horribly guilty of the latter. Only business in the city could pull me away from my library."
"One thing you and Darcy have in common," Mr. Bingley brightly.
Caroline, annoyed that she had no part in the current conversation, quickly diverted the group towards the dining room. Though Eleanor had found a friendship not just in Bingley, but Darcy as well, it seemed that Caroline was determined to ruin any semblance of intelligence conversation and further introspect into the true characters of the two men.
Eleanor lounged in her armchair by the window, her customary spot in the gentlemen's club. The past weeks had dragged on. She couldn't see any reason how the city could be all that people claimed. It was dirty, it was crowded. There was no moment of peace. Though there were more books in the club's library then Eleanor could have ever dreamed, the ever-present distrust in the air clouded her thoughts. She learned that the story behind her father's disappearance was moving through the London society like a rampant fire. Just as quickly as she was accepted as "Lord Andrew Riddell," she was shut out again, with a more vehement cruelty then the Duchesses. Attending the club was more for the sake of her daily ritual then expressing the freedom she gained as pretending to be a man.
It's time for my last stand, Eleanor thought. She closed her book that she was only pretending to read and placed her elbows on her knees, holding her head in her hands. Her whole experience in the city had gone terribly awry, but she wouldn't admit that to anyone. The balls, parties, dinners and the eventual estrangement from her new acquaintances were all equally awful. Now that her lease of her rooms was coming to an end, the perfect time to make a exit while she still could. One more party, Eleanor decided, One more to show them all what the Riddell family is famous for. I will give them something to gossip about for the next four years. The plan was simple; be noticed by everyone. Fan the fire until it became too hot for anyone to handle, and then disappear and let havoc have its turn. She was determined to leave an impression on the people of London by any means necessary.
Eleanor stood with Darcy along the edge of the dance floor, watching the couples move along with the intricate weave of the cotillion.
Their conversation that evening had been very restricted; no doubt he had been informed of the gossip concerning the Riddell family. Just that evening, Eleanor over heard a whispered rumor about her – not "Andrew" but the real Eleanor. Apparently, the daughter of the Riddell family was a great beauty, slender, graceful, poised, yet could turn feral at any moment. The madness, set in from an early age, had progressively worsened so the family shut her away in the country to prevent any harm being caused to visitors. "It is terribly frightening," one woman commented her companion, "how such a beautiful person could house a beast within." Ha! If only they knew. Eleanor glanced at Darcy, both of them hadn't danced all evening, though or Darcy it was by choice. Eleanor had never been to a ball such as this. Most of the time she would spend her evenings talking rather than dancing. Though she needed the dancing to keep up her appearance, it was very awkward to dance with a woman, especially since Eleanor had only practiced the woman's part.
It was very hard to pretend to be a gender you are not. Well of course it is you idiot, Eleanor though as she mentally hit her forehead. If this experience did teach her anything, it was that she was a horrible decision maker at times of high stress and rushed thinking. But that was before she knew better, before she knew of the workings of London society. She had carefully formulated her new plan and she was ready.
Her eyes searched the room for her target, a young gentleman who had the secret (or so he thought) of drinking a little too much before a dance and was prone to becoming as equally brash when aggravated, which he became at the slightest disturbance. She had seen him being quietly and tactfully escorted from social gatherings many times. All of his characteristics made him the perfect man to publically insult which would then lead to a challenge to defend his honor (more likely an assault due to his dimmed rationality and increased anger). The two would begin a fight, be thrown out of the ball, and hopefully be talked about for the next couple of years before fading in the memory of the ton, replaced by a plethora of no-doubt equally as scandalous rumors and gossip. Seeing him, she walked along the outside wall, maneuvering quickly past standing groups of people, careful not to draw too much attention to herself. Reaching a moderately sparse space in front of a band of glass doors that opened onto a terrace, Eleanor stood tall and proud, took in a deep breath opened her mouth and –
- Was retched backwards by a strong hand. Startled she let out her breath with a sharp outtake. In that quick moment, she was already outside, two hands kept her firmly pressed against the wall. Apparently no one saw her being practically kidnapped at the party. Some help they are. Soon, she realized she might want to look at the man who was holding her captive. She lifted her eyes and a flood of hatred rushed through her body.
"Can I help you?" Eleanor snatched through gritted teeth, her eyes narrow and body rigid with anger.
He only lifted an eyebrow. Insolent man. How dare he? Eleanor fumed.
"I believe the question most appropriate is 'How should I thank you from letting my family name fall into the deepest state of ruin,' but at present," Lord Darius looked her over, Eleanor began to feel very, very uncomfortable. She somehow imagined their next meeting …different.
"I don't think there's much you can say that hasn't already crossed my mind," Eleanor didn't wait for him to finish his statement. She didn't want to be discussing her scandalous wardrobe at a time like this. "And if you could be so kind, release me." Her voice had gotten dangerously low, signaling the shaky ground he was treading on.
"Only if you promise not to run away," his eyes were serious, and very green.
To keep herself from blushing, she retaliated. "I never back down from a fight."
"No, you prefer to start them," he released her arms but remained standing at such a close distance, his scent of sandlewood and pine made her feel shaky. Breathe Eleanor, breath. "Now, would you tell me what in God's name were you attempting to start in there?"
"You really shouldn't swear," Eleanor said slowly, trying to avert the conversation.
"Like hell I shouldn't!" He began pacing violently but remained out of sight from those inside. "I've heard the rumors about you, spreading from one group to another as a disease moves through the slums. And just as filthy too. Haven't you caused enough damage for your family, especially your brother? Can't you imagine the irreversible harm you have brought upon your brothers business and good name? He tried so hard to build up the rotting company your father left behind, and somehow, in one fell swoop, you made everything tumble to ruin again."
Dread replaced the flood of anger and the other, strange emotion in Eleanor. She would not cry, could not cry in front of Darius. She could not let him see her weakness - the fact that she had begun to crack a long while ago and all that was needed was a slight bump to set her shattering into hundreds of pieces. Her eyes were cast down in hopes of escaping the current situation but his reproving glare bore holes straight through her. She gave one last attempt at holding herself together, but one tear broke her fragile composure. With all of her confidence and determination gone, she fell in defeat against the brick wall and let out a few quiet sobs. Her horrifying actions were clear to her but what made the matter all worse was she could see no way to escape them. Scandals like these were not blown over and forgotten within the span of a season, she had foolishly made sure of that. Why had her actions driven her to go so far off of her main goal? Grateful that she was wearing pants, Eleanor sat on the ground against the wall and curled her legs up to her, attempting in vain to melt into the shadows. The tears came freely now, wetting the fabric on her knees. She then became vaguely aware of a warm body touching her right side.
"It's not impossible, you know," Darius' voice was gentle, soothing, unlike any tone she had heard him speak with. She preferred his angered voice. His serene tone had more weight and depth, and hung heavy in her consciousness.
"W-what?" her sobs began to lessen in intensity.
"For us to fix this problem you have gotten yourself into."
Eleanor paused for a moment, contemplating the simple, yet extremely complex announcement he had just said. "You can't do that," she whispered, avoiding his eyes. She felt even guiltier for dragging him down in to her mess.
"And why is that?" he prodded. Did he not understand her perfectly obvious reasoning?
"We hate each other, and I have done nothing these past few years to warrant any help like this. For the way I have behaved towards you, you should have dragged me off and locked me up, either in a jail or an insane asylum. That would have been better, in fact. I'm not quite sure how to respond to benevolent attentions."
"A simple acceptance would suffice."
"You know me well enough to know that is not in my nature, even after the realization of my abominable actions," Eleanor said with a slight laugh.
"Yes, I suppose I can attest to your resolute nature from firsthand experience," Darius agreed, remembering all their aggressive arguments with one another. "But if we turn that behavior around, then you can use it to control and diminish the gossip and harm that have centered on the Riddell name. Well, at least lessen it before it troubles your brother."
"Oh, dear Andrew, why did he have to be cursed with such a sister?"
"He loves you more than anything, don't you forget that. When he was away in the northern country, there were too many demands for his time, preventing him from traveling to see you, but you were his favorite conversation topic. He is so proud of you."
"Not for long," regret for her actions coated her words. "I'll be surprised if he ever talks to me again."
"Your brother is quicker to forgive then most, I'm sure you won't have much trouble finding his favor again."He stood up at the end of his sentence, "And if you haven't already forgotten, there is a ball taking place not twenty feet from where we have been sitting. The other guests will start to notice." He held out his hand for her.
She didn't take it. Eleanor though she saw the briefest flicker of rejection cross his face.
"I think I have had enough of society for a while." Eleanor straightened her coat at the waist and brushed off her pants, more as a nervous gesture rather than to tidy her appearance.
"Shall I accompany you back to your apartments?"
"No," another strange emotion passed over his face; she was really making a mess of her conversation tonight, "Oh! What I meant to say was I was invited to stay at the Bingley's tonight. His townhouse is merely a minutes away." She was attempting to get of this awkward situation she had found herself in; attempting but definitely not succeeding.
"Is there at least someone from his party that could go with you? Honestly Eleanor, you look in no state to be walking around London alone at night. Men's appearance or no." He finished his sentence more like a command, and Eleanor would have flown into a mild rage if she had not stopped to contemplate on the middle of his sentence. He said my name. He has never said my name before. She didn't know if she liked the little bubble of emotion that rose up inside her, or if –
Her thinking was cut short when she realized he was looking expectantly at her, as if he had just asked her a question and was awaiting an answer. Getting very embarrassed, and consequently very red, she racked her brain for an answer to a question she didn't know.
"Darcy," she blurted out a little louder then she planned for. Just as if a small gust of wind picked up the short name and carried it into the ballroom, the man in question stepped onto the terrace. His dark eyes fell upon the two. If Mr. Darcy was curious as to why his new acquaintance was standing, red faced, next to the young Lord Darius Alistair, he gave no indication. He did grasp the plea of assistance that she, yes she, was looking at him with. He had to resolve this problem quickly.
"Lord Alistair," Darcy gave the other man a short bow, "Lord Riddell, I was planning to cut my evening short. Observing that you were not engaged on the dance floor, would you care to follow my lead and return to Bingley's house?"
Bless you, Mr. Darcy. "Yes, I would care to. Goodbye Lord Darius."She quickly left the terrace, more for her sake of escaping the awkward atmosphere then to incite rudeness, with Darcy following close behind.
Darius was left in the cold night air to reflect on his jumbled thoughts and plan for the days ahead.
"Is it a habit of yours to have heated debates on isolated terraces with wealthy lords?" Mr. Darcy broke the silence that had lasted from their exit from the party, the short carriage ride home, and just barely through the entrance hall of Mr. Bingley's townhouse.
"No, it is not. May I ask why you are so curious about that specific problem? No doubt you have heard the gossip of my other character flaws."
"I am surprised at the rumors about you that have been circulating recently, but I am more concerned with your emotional state, Lady Eleanor."
Eleanor's world froze for a brief moment. How had Mr. Darcy figured her true identity? Panic swept through her mind; then was replaced by perfect logic and calm.
"You have known all along, haven't you?" Eleanor asked with a laugh, feeling completely ridiculous.
"Indeed. You may have fooled the ignorant and gullible people of London, but I on the other hand, am much more skeptical of people. You never truly fit the image you were striving for. And," he reached inside of his jacket pocket and pulled out a thin letter, "I had a letter from my sister not two days before meeting you. She illustrated the whole situation to me, asking for my assistance. Your wild flight from Rosings Park created quite a still in the population of that house, and Georgiana was worried for your safety, both physical and mental. After tonight, I'm not sure if you have a firm grasp on either of them."
"I have to admit, this whole 'adventure' of mine was a little-" Darcy's eye brow raised, "Okay, very, crazy of me to have undertaken but I didn't see another option. I needed to leave, to prove a point to the world. I feel like I did make that point, albeit not in the most logical way, but at least I did something." The last part of her argument came out as a whisper. Eleanor did not know what to do anymore. She was at the end of her will power, the end of her tirade against the Duchess. With all the determination to live and defy the rules gone, she slumped onto the stair, looking pleadingly at Darcy. "What should I do?"
Darcy sighed, seeing much of his sisters naivety in the young woman, but also something more; an acknowledgment of a horrible action, with no idea in how to repair it. He walked over to where she sat and held out his hand for her. She took it and rose to her feet.
He wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulder, like her brother used to do when they were little. The gesture made her feel protected but it was still supportive, ready to face the challenges ahead. "I won't leave you until you can face this challenge by yourself."
It seemed that Darcy wasn't the distant, arrogant man Eleanor first thought he was. In fact, he was beginning to resemble the one-step less then god his sister had painted him as.