Compromising Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Anthology

by Rose Fairbanks

  Elizabeth glanced at her father, who looked immensely displeased, and continued, “You can imagine my cousin’s reaction. We expected you to have already received a notice from him. He exclaimed to Lady Catherine the evil scene, as he saw it, and they both demanded I depart immediately and unchaperoned. Mr. Darcy would not allow it, and realising the only witness to the scene who would not gossip was Charlotte, nobly proposed marriage, and I accepted.”

  “I was certain he was engaged to his cousin.”

  “Apparently, it is only the wish of his aunt, and Mr. Darcy has never been engaged to her.” Elizabeth stared down at her hands and whispered, “Mr. Darcy says he loves me and planned to propose during his stay in Kent.”

  Mr. Bennet deflated into his seat, looking more confused than ever. “I had not realised you were in his company so much to facilitate such emotion.”

  “He confessed he grew to love me while still at Netherfield.”

  “Why did he not stay to court you then?”

  Elizabeth sighed. She did not want to say anything that might put Mr. Darcy in a poor light with her father. “He explained he did not understand the strength of his attachment until after they had left.”

  There was a silence in the room for several minutes, and Elizabeth believed her father content with the situation, until he looked up at her with anger in his eyes. “You say he called on you alone? The man must have known your contempt for him and believed seduction or compromise the only way to gain your hand. Think, Elizabeth! We know no good of him; indeed, all we know is bad. I am certain he coerced Mr. Bingley to stay in Town instead of pursuing Jane. And his treatment of Mr. Wickham has convinced me he is the worst kind of arrogant man. He assumes he will get his own way, as these great men always are.”

  Elizabeth paled at her father’s misunderstanding of Mr. Darcy’s character. “I do not think he knows of my prior,” she stressed the word to her father, “dislike. And we were misinformed in the matter of Mr. Wickham; he is a scoundrel and a rake. Truly, Mr. Darcy is not so proud and arrogant...”

  “Do you deny he separated Bingley from Jane?”

  “Well, no, but...”

  “That is all, Elizabeth. I will hear no more. You must be trying to acclimate your feelings towards him, which is commendable, for you will have to marry him, though he is such a man. Now leave me.”

  Elizabeth made to argue again, but her father was steadfast in refusing to hear her defence. She did not feel as though she could join the others with tolerable composure and instead went to her room for a brief moment of quiet reflection. After calming herself, she decided to re-join her family in the parlour. She had just passed the study when she heard her father’s raised voice railing against her betrothed. Elizabeth gasped as she heard her father declare, in no uncertain terms, that the last he had heard, she hated Mr. Darcy. She could not hear Darcy’s remarks and watched helplessly, rooted in place, when he exited the room and left the house entirely.

  *****

  As they neared Longbourn, Darcy saw Elizabeth begin to grow restless. She chewed her bottom lip while looking rather vacantly at her surroundings. He had observed her acting similarly at other times when he believed she felt uneasy. Darcy believed he understood entirely. He, too, was uncertain of their reception. Assuming Mr. Collins had written to Mr. Bennet or the Lucases, the Bennet family could find themselves embroiled in gossip and scandal. Elizabeth must naturally worry for their feelings. Darcy recalled her earlier mentioning that she believed he disliked her and her family. He determined to show them all the civility in his power, even if he was treated poorly or shocked by their behaviour.

  After their arrival, Darcy hoped to speak with Mr. Bennet directly, but that gentleman merely looked at him with dislike and called his favourite daughter to his study. Darcy remained in the parlour with Mrs. Bennet and her other daughters.

  Fortunately, Miss Bennet supplied a clever explanation for Darcy escorting her and Elizabeth to Longbourn. He noted Jane’s expression remained complacent during the prevarication, aside from a show of light strain near her eyes —a trait he likely would have missed before his conversation with Elizabeth. He understood that Mr. Bennet received his express, which announced their forthcoming arrival, but there were no signs of distress from unsavoury gossip having reached the household.

  Mrs. Bennet was coldly civil to him, which was more than he expected. Over tea, she inquired after their common acquaintances, in particular Mr. Bingley. Darcy took time to study Jane. He noticed her well-hidden discomfort at her mother’s mentioning Mr. Bingley. The pain was evident in her eyes while she feigned disinterest in the matter. As he had adopted the practice of wearing a mask before company long ago, he could only wonder at his lack of ability to notice when others did so.

  Mrs. Bennet turned her attention back to Darcy. Her shrill voice exasperated him more than usual after the tension filled events of the previous day. Darcy found himself peering longingly at Mr. Bennet’s study door, growing increasingly annoyed and anxious that he was made to wait for his audience with Elizabeth’s father. He suppressed a desire for fresh air and pacing, instead settling for twisting his signet ring as Mrs. Bennet complained Elizabeth had not looked at all ill, as Jane implied earlier. She could not understand the need for Elizabeth to leave Kent early, nor why she should bring her dear Jane from London. Finally, with obvious displeasure, she asked if he would prefer to refresh himself in the room prepared for him.

  With all the civility Darcy could muster, he answered, “Thank you, no. I had the good fortune of receiving a note from Mr. Bingley this morning, just before departing, and he should be arriving at Netherfield even now. I would not wish to intrude upon your family when your daughters have just returned.”

  The last words could be heard by no one, as Mrs. Bennet began screeching in delight. Mr. Bingley had returned at last! Darcy hazarded a look at Jane and saw her turn pale and nervous, her façade quickly fading.

  Mrs. Bennet was upon him in an instant, “Oh, I knew you were too good for those wretched things to be true! And to think just an hour ago, Mr. Wickham was here meeting with Mr. Bennet, and I am sure he was telling more tales against you.” Pausing to calm herself, she clutched Darcy’s arm and waved her other hand in dismissal. “All of that shall be forgot, for you have brought Mr. Bingley back to our dear Jane! Now tell me...”

  Before she could finish her thoughts, Mr. Bennet interrupted in a displeased voice, “I will see you now, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy stood, expecting to see Elizabeth by Mr. Bennet’s side, but she was not present. He was not given a chance to speculate on her whereabouts before being ushered to Mr. Bennet’s study and directed to sit.

  Darcy could not help but compare the Bennet library to Mr. Gardiner’s. There were certainly more books, but they seemed haphazard. Many were stacked on tables and a side chair or even on the floor, instead of in their proper places on the bookshelves. There was a pile of unopened correspondence, and the surface of the desk covered in opened letters, but Darcy saw no sign of writing materials at hand for any replies. He noticed the dust gathering on the ledgers, labelled from several months ago, on the table next to his chair. Behind Mr. Bennet’s desk was a sideboard with various spirits, a water pitcher, and evidence of a recent meal. Darcy ascertained at once that Mr. Bennet seldom stirred from this room and yet was unproductive within. He reminded himself Elizabeth deeply loved her father, and it was no secret she was his favourite.

  Mr. Bennet looked at Darcy for a long moment before glancing at a letter on his desk. Once again, Darcy’s attempt at confidence in the face of anxiety was interpreted as arrogance. Mr. Bennet spoke at last. “You can imagine my surprise when I read your letter, Mr. Darcy. That you should wish to marry my daughter, of whom you have done nothing but disapprove before there was so much as a proper introduction. I was even more shocked to hear she has agreed to marry you. I spoke with her and have heard her side of the story, and now I wish to hear yours.”

  Elizabet
h’s father paused, then asked sharply, “What happened yesterday that you fled my cousin’s house to bring her to my brother’s?”

  Darcy was immensely confused. “I thought you would have received a notice from Mr. Collins, but I am sure I can impart the information not only more accurately but also more sensibly.”

  Darcy’s words were met with hostile silence from Mr. Bennet, so the younger man explained the facts.

  “Why were you alone with her? What were your designs? I know all about your engagement with your cousin. I know you can have no honourable intentions towards Elizabeth. Were you hoping to seduce her? I assume you only offer her marriage because your aunt will not allow your marriage to your cousin to go forth with such a blatant display of ungentlemanly behaviour, and you wish to preserve your reputation.”

  Darcy could hardly tolerate such treatment and tried to remain calm and civil for Elizabeth’s sake. He felt every muscle clench, and he clamped his jaw tight until he obtained a modicum of composure and calm. Despite his efforts, his voice was still laced with anger when he finally said, “Mr. Bennet, I will tell you I will not tolerate such treatment. May I inquire why, with such little endeavour at civility, you accuse me?”

  Mr. Bennet’s face reddened with ire. “If I am uncivil, it is no less than you deserve. You treated us with so evident a desire to offend and insult while you remained in Hertfordshire. And do you think any consideration can tempt me to be civil to the man who has exposed my eldest daughter to the derision of the world for disappointed hopes and misery?”

  Darcy attempted to speak but Mr. Bennet continued, “I must admit I was not surprised when your Mr. Wickham unfolded your character to me.”

  “I would not trust such happy manners if I were you!”

  Mr. Bennet rose from his chair and interjected, “I know all about his misfortunes. You have inflicted his current state of poverty upon him. I can hardly believe a man who dishonoured his father’s will out of jealousy and pride would offer my daughter marriage for any noble reason. What am I to think, that you went to the parsonage to honourably pay your addresses to a poor country miss with inferior connections and whose beauty you early withstood?”

  Darcy’s eyes flashed, and he felt his blood boil under his skin, but again he sought to regulate himself before speaking.

  At Darcy’s silence, Mr. Bennet continued, “From the very beginning of our acquaintance, your manners have done nothing but impress upon me and all of Hertfordshire, including Elizabeth, your arrogance, conceit, and selfish disdain for the feelings of others.”

  Darcy could scarce believe his ears. Mr. Bennet added, “I know for a fact Elizabeth had not known you for a month before she felt you were the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry. Including my cousin Collins! You should think again on each impertinent remark, every saucy speech, which somehow endeared her to you. She hates you! She hates you, and you have taken away her liberty to choose, selfish and arrogant man that you are.”

  Until the most recent outburst, Darcy listened with a semblance of confidence in Elizabeth’s esteem, which was a consolation in light of Mr. Bennet’s extreme disapprobation. Not for the first time, he wondered how Elizabeth came from such a household, although he had never previously supposed Mr. Bennet to have so little sense as his wife. Aside from Mr. Bennet’s rage-induced panting, a dreadful silence ensued as Darcy attempted to reason away his adversary’s newest accusations. During the silence, a sliver of doubt wormed through Darcy’s conceit.

  The moment Darcy’s eyes belied his growing astonishment and mortification, Mr. Bennet slumped in resignation and conceded, “But with the stench of scandal, I must allow you to have your way.”

  “You have said quite enough. I perfectly comprehend your feelings. My faults may be many, but I will tell you now that your accusations are ill-founded and formed on mistaken premises.”

  Darcy rose from his chair and took quick steps across the limited space available in the room. “I have never been engaged to my cousin. I have the utmost respect and admiration for your daughter. Before I entered the parsonage, I had already planned to pay her my addresses while in Kent. It was my mistake in allowing the tête-à-tête to continue when I realised we were alone, but no matter my sins of pride in your eyes, I have never seduced any lady. Even if my feelings were not engaged, and they most certainly are, my honour would insist on offering marriage to your daughter to preserve the Bennet reputation.”

  Darcy ceased his pacing directly in front of Mr. Bennet. With his height and angry mien, he was a fearsome thing to behold as he peered down at the older man. “I must add that I am shocked at your lack of resolve. When I was in the position in which you believe yourself to be, put there by none other than Mr. Wickham, I would not allow my sister’s abuser to have his way. I threw the blackguard out!”

  Darcy saw Mr. Bennet’s eyes widen in apparent disbelief. Believing his own words could have no more effect on the man, Darcy dug in his breast pocket and produced Mr. Gardiner’s letter. He took a deep breath and reminded himself this foolish man before him was his beloved’s father, and it would pain her if he unleashed his full fury. In a tone of assumed tranquillity, for the tumult in his mind was painfully great, Darcy summoned cold civility. “As for your other complaints, will you do me the honour of reading this letter?” He bowed and swiftly exited the Bennet house.

  *****

  Darcy knew he should have been incensed at Mr. Bennet and rejected—nearly universally—all of his accusations. Instead, he only felt wretched, searing pain in his heart from hearing Elizabeth had always hated him.

  He searched his memory for a blatant sign of her contempt. Her mother made it no secret of her dislike; he was not too conceited to notice that. Darcy reproached himself and realised Elizabeth was too decorous to show marked dislike. Just the other day, he had mentally praised her ability to persevere with civility in the face of churlish treatment. Even during their dance at Netherfield, while clearly displeased, she was never overtly hostile.

  Next, he tried to find some remembrance of treatment to illustrate respect and esteem. When he compared her treatment towards him with her treatment of her loved ones and others he knew she valued, he was heartily disappointed. He received none of the smiles reserved for Mrs. Collins or Jane, or even the ones he witnessed her bestowing upon Bingley and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam. The more he pondered the differences in her usual demeanour towards him and others in her company, the more he realised she treated him no differently than she treated Miss Bingley.

  It suddenly became all too clear how displeased she appeared directly after his proposal, how ill she seemed in the carriage. He recalled all her remarks on his pride and vanity, how she believed Wickham so easily. How could he be so blind? If it were not for her ridiculous cousin and the threat of scandal, she would never have accepted his suit. He knew enough of her to know she could never be mercenary and marry where she did not respect the man.

  How must she feel? Tied to me for life, a man she does not respect. She does not dislike me due to Wickham or even my ill-conceived attempt at assistance towards Bingley. She dislikes my absolute self. My presumption of her esteem was nothing but my vanity.

  Darcy had been quickly pacing around the garden. He called for his carriage but could not remain still while waiting, nor did he wish to remain in clear view from the house. His long legs carried him away from easy sight, while he mentally castigated himself. His breath was ragged, and he was panting hard, more from his troubled thoughts than from the exercise, when he heard a twig snap behind him.

  *****

  Elizabeth watched Darcy’s retreating back as he all but fled from her home after the ungenerous and unjust words from her father. She felt mortified, not only because her father accused Darcy of awful acts and motives, but also because the part he said of her opinion had been true. She wondered again how ungracious her words to a proposal might have been if fate had turned differently. She recalled her aunt’s warn
ing that she should share her misapprehension of Darcy’s character with the gentleman. There was also truth in her aunt’s assessment: Elizabeth did not want to confess her misjudgement to Darcy to preserve her pride. As she watched him stride briskly away, she could easily perceive Darcy’s hurt by his slumped shoulders and agitated walk. She did not understand him perfectly yet —perhaps she never would —but she knew that after all he had confessed, what must hurt him the most was callously hearing she had so despised him.

  Hoping to alleviate some of his pain, she forced her shaky legs to move as she sought him. When she found him, she stopped to observe his actions. She marvelled at the new feelings stirring in her heart. She felt an unaccountable need to soothe and care for him. The knowledge that she inflicted his current pain humbled her even more. She took a timid step forward and stepped on a twig. The sound drew his notice, and he turned.

  Elizabeth closed her eyes in mortification and pain when she saw the agony on Darcy’s face. “Mr. Darcy, I pray you will forgive my father for his words and...”

  He interrupted before she could explain her prior prejudice. “Were you ever going to tell me you hate me?” He spoke sharply, and Elizabeth considered any anger he felt towards herself was quite justified.

  “I apologise. I misunderstood so much. I...” She was at a loss as to how to continue.

  Darcy gave her an astonished look and shook his head. “No, I need to apologise. I was unthinking and thoughtless for nearly the whole of our acquaintance, but never more so than when I was too obtuse to notice your dislike and placed us in a potentially compromising situation. How you must hate me! Forced to marry me against your will!”

  “No, Mr. Darcy...” But he would not allow Elizabeth to continue.

  He strode to her and took her hands. His voice was thick with emotion. “You are too generous. You never would have confessed your feelings to me. I have seen my errors. It seems there is no alternative before you, but I will strive to make our union one you will not regret.”