CHAPTER 2 - Darcy
"Come now, Darcy! You must go!"
Darcy gave his friend, Charles Bingley, a flat look. He couldn't fault the man his expression of purest delight, but he simply would not attend a dinner at Longbourn. Not while a certain Miss Bennet still resided there.
They sat together over breakfast and Darcy felt annoyance rising within him. This conversation was ruining a perfectly fine meal.
"I'm a newly engaged man, and I must have my best friend by my side to assuage any doubts that may plague me," Bingley joked.
Darcy heaved a sigh. "You know, Charles, when you say things like that, it makes me wonder whether I did the right thing in all of this."
Bingley gave Darcy a look of mock surprise. "Was that a joke? Did you intend humour or was it just a happy accident?"
"Contrary to popular belief, I am in possession of both wit and humour," Darcy replied dryly. He was not enjoying the teasing turn of conversation.
"Wit is never something that has been argued, Darcy. However, several ladies in both our acquaintance might have an opinion as to the humour in your possession."
Darcy bristled; he didn't think Bingley knew how close that remark hit. The wound caused by Miss Elizabeth Bennet had not yet fully healed, and Bingley blindly poked at it. Darcy swallowed his annoyance—it wasn't Charles' fault; he had no idea what had transpired between himself and Elizabeth.
Sighing again—this time slightly more inconspicuously—he buttered his toast. Bingley was not going to let this invitation go.
"Let's say, for conversation's sake, that I agreed to attend said dinner," he said. "What would you want of me? We both know I am not a particularly sought after conversationalist."
He took a bite of his toast and shifted uncomfortably. He knew he was being honest, but he never liked admitting to shortcomings—even inane social shortcomings like dull conversation.
"Want of you?" Bingley replied, genuinely surprised. "I don't want anything of you. Just to celebrate, and have a fun evening." He gave Darcy a roguish look. "The Bennets do have four other daughters."
"I do not find that amusing," Darcy said dryly, showing him just how un-amusing he found the topic. He quickly willed the conversation to move past that comment without further review.
"Alright, I'll come," he said after a minute. "Perhaps Mr. Bennet and I can have a nice discussion about the…" He searched for a topic that both he and Mr. Bennet might enjoy conversing over. "...shooting. Or the upcoming growing season."
"Splendid! Thank you, Darcy." Bingley raised his teacup towards Darcy and nodded his head. Darcy raised his cup as well, and gave the man a half-hearted smile.
What in the world had he just agreed to…?
The rest of the meal passed without mention of the dinner, Longbourn, or the Bennets, for which Darcy was grateful. After they had finished eating, he begged for pardon and gathered his coat, hat and gloves, setting out for a walk around Netherfield's ample grounds.
"Remember," Bingley called to him as he exited the front door. "We'll be leaving for Longbourn late afternoon."
Darcy nodded at him and walked out the door, relieved to take a breath of the fresh air. He stamped on the gravel drive a bit harder than was normal, his hands clasped firmly behind his back. He began his walk with a brisk pace, perhaps hoping to outpace the anxiety entering his mind.
The Bennets.
He should have seen this coming when he'd informed Bingley of Miss Jane Bennet's unwavering affections. Not that he would have allowed his own discomforts to stand in the way of Charles' happiness. But still, he felt a growing coldness as he thought of the upcoming dinner that night—and it had nothing to do with the chill in the air.
He never should have allowed Charles to talk him into coming back to Netherfield in the first place! Darcy underlined this thought with a slight kick of the grass. Charles and his need for 'mental support'. He, Fitzwilliam Darcy, had done enough for the man without allowing himself to be bullied into an evening with the man's betrothed and her family!
Darcy stopped himself from remembering the entirety of the Bennet family. Jane was lovely and Elizabeth… Well, Elizabeth was in a category all her own, but the rest… He sighed as his resolve to not focus on the rest melted.
Mrs. Bennet may just be the most frivolous woman Darcy had ever met. If the woman ever had a thought deeper than a puddle… Darcy stepped around a particularly deep puddle in the middle of his path. And the two youngest girls. He had always been grateful that Georgiana was not prone to fits of giggles. Giggling made his head hurt.
He continued to tramp along through the field, completely ignoring the drops of mud spattering onto his trousers. His resolve to not focus on the Bennets was completely gone. There was another daughter. Yes, he was sure there was another daughter, but he could not bring her face to his mind. A sad reflection on the girl, unfortunately.
Darcy stopped suddenly and realised what he was doing.
This, this… attitude was the problem from which all his others stemmed. This was the arrogance that Elizabeth had so harshly criticised and for which she'd thrown his proposal into his face. He started his walk again more slowly, pushing aside his annoyance as sadness crept over him.
Elizabeth.
The name itself pricked at his heart and caused great pain. Her face formed in his mind, and he unsuccessfully tried to push it away. Thinking of her caused him pain, but not thinking of her would cause his death.
His face reddened at that thought. If Charles, or anyone else for that matter, heard him say such nonsense, he'd never hear the end of it. He sounded like a man from one of the novels Georgiana tried to hide. All flowery romance and undying love. Pure and utter nonsense. He was a man of reason. A man of science and logic. Not one given to poetry and fine words—leave that to other men.
Yet, he could not deny what reason and logic revealed to him: He was undone. By a woman. Not just any woman, but one in possession of great intelligence, wit, humour and beauty. Although however beautiful her face, it was her mind that had ensnared him.
And he was caught, like a rabbit in a trap, and tonight the hunter came. He would see her tonight. A thrill raced through him at the thought. Whether it was excitement or dread, he could not tell. Perhaps both.
His mind escaped to the last time he had seen her. Last summer. At Pemberley.
He had been completely unaware of her being in the neighbourhood, and suddenly, she had simply arrived at his doorstep, like a gift sent from heaven—or from hell, to torture his soul with what he had lost and could never have.
Although her visit with her aunt and uncle, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, had been most unexpected, they had spent many fine days together at his estate. Many fine days with Elizabeth. And if he had thought he was in love with her before, then that would have been a lie. During those days at Pemberley… That's when he truly fell in love.
He had never pictured himself falling in love. No, that romantic love that the artists and poets talked about had never appealed to him. It didn't seem real. It wasn't solid and examinable.
He knew that he would marry, eventually, because it was his duty. There must always be a Darcy at Pemberley and it was his task to ensure that there would be one after he died. An heir. And that would require a wife. He had assumed he would be fond of whatever woman he married. But love? A fairy tale for silly girls and the books that encouraged their silliness.
Until Elizabeth.
She was a woman that matched him in every way: intelligence, humour, wit, and temperament. He did not think such a creature could exist. And yet she did. He felt his heart clench as he realised that Elizabeth herself had never seen how well-suited they were—she wore her qualities out for the world to see, while he hid his behind a mask of solemnity and politeness.
Which, he realised, she had not even taken as politeness, but arrogance.
The one way in which they were not matched was in social standing, and that was all he had shown her. He hated the requirements of society and yet, when the time came for him to throw them off, he had ended up sounding like a prim spinster aunt from the oldest family in Britain.
Darcy regretted his haste. Like a boy in his first game of cards, he had shown his hand too early. His proposal had rested upon the assurances his wealth and position provided. It had not considered himself the man.
No, he had approached it all wrong. Elizabeth was not a business transaction and their life not a column of numbers in a ledger. She had shown him that she cared not for his worldly possessions and station—only his character as a man mattered, and he had presented that part of himself all wrong.
It was no wonder she had rejected him so.
Darcy sighed. He had been turned down—most adamantly so—and the shock and disappointment of that refusal had barely faded in the months since. If anything, grief only added to the misery he felt when he considered his life without Elizabeth Bennet.
During the past months, since his failed proposal at Rosings, since her visit to Pemberley, he had tried his best to banish Miss Elizabeth Bennet from his mind. And yet here he was, thinking about her once again.
Darcy paused his walk all of a sudden, taken out of his thoughts as he realised he had no idea where he was headed. He looked around to see where he had ended up, and to his surprise, found himself looking down upon Longbourn.
He certainly had not intended to end up here!
He gazed at the house and saw its occupants laughing together in the sitting room. Through the window, he could see all the women of the Bennet household gathered around Jane, who looked positively radiant—or so he assumed. He really couldn't make out expressions from this distance and he wasn't about to get closer.
But he saw Elizabeth. Laughing along with the rest.
He pretended he could hear the full, unrestrained laugh she did not attempt to hide. While others giggled, Elizabeth laughed. It was refreshing and tantalizing. He pretended he could see her upturned mouth as she did so, the wrinkles on the corners of her eyes, and the sparkles of joy in her deep brown eyes.
Turning around, Darcy started a brisk walk back toward Netherfield before anyone could look through the window and see him.
Watching her had squeezed his heart, but he could bear the pain. He had to, for Bingley's sake. Yes, he would go to the party and he would make it through. It was the least he could do for his close friend and his friend's future happiness. But he wished there were another way.
Several hours later, Darcy found himself climbing down from the carriage before Mr. Bingley. Longbourn once again stood in front of him, but this time, he was close enough to see details through the window.
He was both pleased and panicked to see Elizabeth cross in front of the frame. She was only visible for a moment, but that moment was enough to tell that she looked as beautiful as ever.
"It's a shame your sister couldn't join us," Darcy said, trying to distract himself from the sight of Elizabeth. He turned to Bingley as he put his hat on his head. "She, no doubt, would have enjoyed this chance to become more familiar with Miss Bennet."
"Ah, yes…" Bingley sounded unsure of how to continue. "Caroline knows how deeply I care for Miss Bennet. And she wants me to be happy… However…"
Darcy understood what Bingley was trying to say, and he immediately regretted bringing up his sister. He saved the man from having to continue with a slap on the back and a hearty, "And happy you shall be! Congratulations again."
He and Bingley shook hands warmly before moving to the front door. Bingley looked relieved; Darcy knew how much he loved his sister, and it clearly pained him that she was not fully pleased with his choice of a bride. He made a mental note not to bring it up again.
A servant opened the front door for them, and they entered Longbourn.
Darcy looked around as he stepped into the front entryway. He had never been inside the house before and was curious to see what the Bennets called home. His eyes met a neat, if simple, house. What might be expected from a family like the Bennets. He cut off his thoughts before they made a turn.
They handed their coats, hats and gloves to the servant and waited to be led into the sitting room. Bingley was bouncing slightly on his toes, eager to see his betrothed.
"She's not going anywhere, you know," Darcy whispered to him.
Bingley seemed to realise his bouncing and flashed Darcy an embarrassed smile. He settled himself without the bounce, but Darcy noticed his fingers were still impatiently dancing behind his back. Darcy chuckled quietly in amusement and allowed himself to feel a deep happiness for Bingley. His friend was in love and he naturally wished him the best.
The maid returned and walked them to the sitting room door. Opening it, she announced simply: "Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy."
She stood aside for them to enter, and Darcy could now see the whole room before him—including its occupants, the female members of the Bennet family, who now rose to greet them.
"Mr. Bingley!" Mrs. Bennet's bright voice burst out of the room as they entered, and she immediately rushed toward them. "And Mr. Darcy." Her voice gained a much cooler edge as she regarded him.
Darcy nodded at her politely, while his friend gave him an apologetic smile. He watched as Bingley immediately walked across the room to greet Jane. She gave him her hand, and he made a deep bow over it, kissing it, and said something quietly that Darcy couldn't quite hear.
"Now, now, dear boy! None of that!" Mrs. Bennet's voice pierced the air with a giggle.
Bingley straightened and both he and Jane coloured brightly. Darcy walked to a window in the room, hoping to fade into the background as the younger girls excitedly greeted his friend—their soon-to-be brother-in-law.
His mouth was quite dry and his heart raced as his eyes sought out Elizabeth in the room. She stood by her sister Jane, smiling warmly at Bingley. He willed himself to stop staring, but instead found himself memorizing her image. She was beautiful in a pale green dress and a small flower in her brown hair. It was simple, yet shockingly elegant.
As Mrs. Bennet fussed over Bingley and Jane, he saw Elizabeth turn and her eyes sought him out. His heart raced even faster as she surprisingly walked towards him. His back stiffened and he clenched his hands behind his back.
"Mr. Darcy, how lovely to see you today," Elizabeth said, making a small curtsy. Darcy bowed back slightly.
"Yes, quite." He did not like how cold his voice sounded, but he suddenly found it necessary to keep his emotions under tight control, lest he do something foolish. He stared straight ahead and fought down his rising embarrassment.
"Are you long at Netherfield?" She asked, attempting to continue the conversation.
"No, not long." His voice still sounded cold to his ears. "I just came to accompany Bingley in all this."
"Oh, yes, what a good friend you must be," she said, her lips curving into a smile.
Darcy smiled back at her slightly, but couldn't bring himself to face her. From the corner of his eye, he saw as she adjusted her gloves in a manner that made it clear that she was waiting for him to say something. Darcy tried to think of a way to continue the conversation in a pleasing manner, but his mind drew a blank.
It had been so long since he had seen Elizabeth the last time, and judging by the beat of his heart, his feelings for her had not faded in the least during the passing months, although he perhaps would have wished so.
Now, seeing her again, he found those feelings difficult to contain. He could hardly think of what to say to her without making a fool out of himself. His mind swept back to the days they had spent together at Pemberley…
And that's when an idea struck him.
"Your aunt and uncle Gardiner. They are well, I presume?" he asked, relieved to have discovered something of intelligence to say.
"Oh, yes," Elizabeth said. "They are quite well. They have returned to London now."
"Good, good," he replied, finding himself once more at a loss for words.
His mind reeled. He should have thought beforehand what to say to her…It wasn't like seeing her here came as a surprise to him.
The moment stretched on between them—well past the point of a polite pause in conversation and into the awkwardness of a conversational wall. Feeling slightly at odds, Darcy half smiled at her, but couldn't think of anything more to say. His eyes focused on everything but the woman beside him, and to both his relief and disappointment, she did the same.
Little by little, the seconds ticked by and the space between them grew intolerably. Finally, Elizabeth cleared her throat and ended the interminable silence.
"I should go see if Mamma needs help with anything," she said, sliding away from him.
"Yes, good. It was nice to see you," Darcy replied, thankful for the excuse, all the while he felt a stab of hurt in his chest at the loss of her company.
What a fool he was…
He could see Mrs. Bennet fully engaged with Bingley and knew Elizabeth had just tried to politely get away from him. She walked away and he watched her go, sadness mixed in with his relief.
This was going to be a long evening…
