Compromising Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Anthology

by Rose Fairbanks

  Darcy did remember the moment Elizabeth walked into the library, appearing like an enticing nymph out of his dreams. He vaguely recalled laughter and, possibly...singing? He winced. But he knew, in his heart of hearts, he did not imagine the tender look in her eye when he had his arms around her. It was the one thought keeping him from madness. Of course, he could not recall how or why she was in his arms but could only pray to have her look upon him that way again.

  He repeated an attempt to focus his mind sufficiently. He had awoken with a terrible headache and saw a brandy decanter and glass in his room. He had not thought he over- indulged so much; the decanter, which he recognised as belonging to the library, was still quite full. He rarely drank heavily and only under times of severe emotional strain, when entirely alone. Even after nearly losing his sister, Georgiana, to Wickham, he had never been entirely inebriated, nor so affected as to lose his memory. He had broken a glass in the library, where he knew he had started the evening. What happened in between?

  He had awoken with the feeling of an unbelievable night spent in passion with Elizabeth, and as well as evidence of his gratification, there was blood on his bed linens, Elizabeth’s handkerchief, and himself. The handkerchief’s presence was unusual, but he rationalised he must have used it to assist her afterwards. She obviously had not slept well, if at all, and was sore.

  There was no more denying it. Every circumstance confirmed that he had irrevocably stolen Elizabeth’s virtue.

  Darcy glanced around the church and wondered that there was not some marking on him alerting the congregation to his depravity. But did he not know first-hand how a scoundrel and seducer could coexist amongst the unsuspecting populace and earn their trust and admiration? To think that he had acted no better than a rake of the highest order, no better than George Wickham made him feel ill. How could he ever call himself a gentleman again? How was he ever to earn Elizabeth’s esteem? And what was he to do if she rejected him again?

  Mindful that he was in a church and had broken enough of the Lord’s commandments, he turned his attention to the minister. The Meryton vicar seemed a reasonable and sensible man, qualities Darcy admired in the clergy. Mr. Black did tend towards Methodism, but Darcy thought it was refreshing to hear. This gentleman was thankfully not like the sycophants his aunt employed, and he reminded Darcy of the minister of his youth, of the man originally hired by Darcy’s grandfather who resigned from the parish for his wife’s health. For some reason, Darcy could not shake the feeling he had recently had news of Mr. Clark.

  When it came time for Darcy to fill the position, he was able to resist his aunt’s pressures. Instead, he gave it to an older cleric who would suffice nicely until his youngest Darcy cousin took orders. This only occurred after— and quite thankfully— his father’s godson had resigned any claim to the living. As if Wickham should ever be in charge of a parish!

  Annoyed with his thoughts turning towards the reprobate, he resolved to pay full attention to the rector. The man did not disappoint. Instead of relying on a printed sermon by one of the popular theologians of the time, he clearly had put much study and thought into his homily.

  “Let us turn our attention now to this passage in Romans. ‘For when we were yet without strength, in due time Christ died for the ungodly.’ Now some puff themselves up and say, ‘I am a good man. I am a better man than he,’ and then point towards their neighbours. But you would be no better than the Pharisee praying in the temple to thank God that he is not like the tax collector.

  “My brethren, we should recall St. Paul’s words: ‘For all have sinned, and come short of the glory of God.’

  “Allow us to examine the nature of sin. If I asked you what sin was, you might say to me, ‘Mr. Black, I know murder and adultery are sins.’ And I could ask you if you were innocent of such sins, and you might reply in all sincerity that you are.

  “But I would direct you to the Saviour’s words in Matthew: ‘Ye have heard that it was said of them of old time, Thou shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment: But I say unto you, That whosoever is angry with his brother without a cause shall be in danger of the judgment: and whosoever shall say to his brother, Raca’—that is, to insult your brethren—’shall be in danger of the council: but whosoever shall say, Thou fool, shall be in danger of hell fire.’

  “Let me also call to your mind King David’s words in the one hundred first psalm: ‘Whoso privily slandereth his neighbour, him will I cut off; him that hath an high look and a proud heart will I not suffer’ and ‘He that worketh deceit shall not dwell within my house: he that telleth lies shall not tarry in my sight.’

  “Is not hatred of your brother as bad as murder? Did not Cain first hate his brother Abel for the Lord’s acceptance of his sacrifice? Sinful thoughts beget sinful actions. Ladies, you may never think to physically harm another, but you may kill a person’s worth and reputation with your gossip and wagging tongues out of jealousy and spite.

  “We live in a society that condemns a woman for flirtatious behaviour, and indeed it is abominable, but we ought to remind the gentlemen that the Saviour tells us, ‘Ye have heard that it was said by them of old time, Thou shalt not commit adultery: But I say unto you, that whosoever looketh on a woman to lust after her hath committed adultery with her already in his heart.’

  “Brother, Sister, can you now claim to be sinless?”

  Darcy tried to not shift uncomfortably in his seat; he knew regardless of what happened the night before that he most certainly was not innocent of sin with Elizabeth if taken in that light. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bingley nervously adjust his cravat amongst the fidgeting of several other young men. He knew who Bingley lusted after, but what of these other men? Not after my Elizabeth!

  Mr. Black continued, “Perhaps you can. You might even pride yourself on your ability to control yourself and avoid temptation, but I would argue that your prideful spirit is your sin.

  “Might we recall the proverb: ‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before the fall. Better it is to be of an humble spirit with the lowly, than to divide the spoil with the proud.’

  “Who among us is worthy? Did Christ not pardon us all with the same act of redemption? Before God, we are all equals, sinners redeemed by grace.

  “As we are told in Galatians, ‘There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither bond nor free, there is neither male nor female: for ye are all one in Christ Jesus.’ There is no rank or situation in life that makes one more holy or godly than the other.

  “But there is redemption from our sin. As we are told in the Gospel of John, Jesus Christ paid our debt, ‘For God sent not his Son into the world to condemn the world; but that the world through him might be saved.’

  “We must do more than merely repent. We must put aside our unclean thoughts as much as we shun sinful behaviour. ‘Having therefore this guidance and these promises from the gospel, dearly beloved, let us cleanse ourselves from all filthiness of the flesh and spirit, perfecting holiness in the fear of God.’

  “Let us pray.”

  Darcy was silent on the carriage ride back to Netherfield. Caroline and the Hursts were astonished at the near revolutionary preachings of Mr. Black: Of course, rank and birth made a difference in behaviour and conduct. Superior society could only be found amongst the gentry and not the vulgar tradesmen or those in service. Bingley said little, his eyes darting around the coach, obviously unsettled. When they reached the house, Darcy claimed a headache and returned to his rooms until the Bennet ladies were to depart.

  *****

  Inside his chambers, Darcy soberly reflected on the service. He was entirely convinced now that he was no gentleman; his father and mother would be horrified by their son’s behaviour. Not only was he a seducer, but he had intentionally fed his lustful thoughts with fantasies of Elizabeth, a lady who in all ways acted respectably. Perhaps he could not be held accountable for his dreams, but he had persistently engaged in such f
antasies even in his waking hours for weeks now, while he determinedly told himself he could not marry her due to her connections and the behaviour of her family. All the while he had prided himself on his ability to not succumb to temptation. Other men would cast off their honourable intentions of duty to their families to feed their lust for the enticing woman or to offer the position of mistress. He had never touched a woman, had hardly been infatuated before, and always kept his carnal desires under good regulation —until Elizabeth.

  He had been too proud of his family position to do the truly honourable thing and marry her. He had occasionally wondered how he would forget her. He had wondered when he did marry, if he could fully embrace his wife without fleeting thoughts of how it would feel to have Elizabeth in his arms instead. Now he realised how degrading that would be for both Elizabeth and that wife, how he would be an adulterer in his heart if not in deed. He had certainly never been so attracted to a lady before and could not entirely ensure he would be again, but he had reasoned he should not be held accountable for his thoughts and that his faithfulness would be enough to offer his future bride, even if he longed for another.

  On Saturday afternoon, he was so certain of his ability to resist the temptation of Elizabeth that he had refused to leave the library. Later he returned there to allow his mind to imagine a much more illicit encounter; when she actually entered the room, his control must have entirely disappeared. Yes, pride certainly came before the fall.

  Now as he repented his licentious thoughts, actions, and abominable pride, he fervently wished he could go back in time to swallow his opinions on marriage and offer for Elizabeth with a clear conscience. With his heart and soul bare before the Almighty, faced with his failings for the very first time in his life, he vowed to be more humble, to put all others’ feelings and concerns before his own, and to be a true gentleman, the man he was raised to be. The reminder of his sins would be his companion for life; he could have no option but to improve himself. He should have felt a sense of obligation to her for his thoughts alone. Now it was undeniably his duty to marry her. After understanding the failures of his character, as illuminated by her, he felt a debt of gratitude as well.

  *****

  Elizabeth walked up the stairs after being released from Darcy’s side, barely sensible enough to avoid the broken spot on the stairwell. She could hardly credit how the man could affect her so. She resolved to put him out of her mind until she could reflect privately. Near the master’s chambers, before rounding the corner to turn to the guest wing, Elizabeth overheard two servants speaking.

  “Linton, did you hear about Mr. Darcy?” a maid asked.

  A male voice answered, “You know better than to repeat gossip, Aggie.”

  Far from knowing all the servants of Netherfield, Elizabeth surmised the only man who would be near this part of the house would be a valet. The footmen would all stay downstairs.

  “Aye, but I don’t mean nothin’ bad. The man’s a saint if one ever lived, no matter what troubles he was trying to drown last night.” She seemed very eager to share her information. “I heard his valet, Jennings, telling Mrs. Parker that she had Mr. Darcy’s personal thanks for taking care of the Miss Bennets so well. And I even saw him giving her a florin!”

  “Yes, I have spent enough time in his homes to know ‘tis always this way with Mr. Darcy. He is the best landlord, and the best master,” said he, “that ever lived; not like the wild young men nowadays, who think of nothing but themselves. There is not one of his tenants or servants but will give him a good name.”

  “I even saw him helpin’ Susie by carrying up a water pitcher meant for the younger Miss Bennet.”

  “Some people call him proud, but I am sure I never saw anything of it. To my fancy, it is only to avoid fortune hunters and because he does not rattle away like other young men.”

  “Ya mean like the master?”

  “Hush, Aggie. You know our master is a very amiable and good-natured man, only young and still learning. No, there are some bucks who never speak but to boast of themselves. They appear charming, but there is nothing but selfishness and conceit within. The master and Mr. Darcy are both good and honourable men. Now enough. Off to your work!”

  The servants went on their way, and Elizabeth felt she ought to as well, but she could not help marvelling: In what an amiable light this puts him!

  There was certainly at this moment, in Elizabeth’s mind, a more gentle sensation towards Darcy than she had ever felt before. The commendation bestowed on him by Bingley’s valet was of no trifling nature. He must surely have been in Darcy’s household often enough to know the truth, and yet was not likely to be blindly prejudiced in favour of him. As a landlord and a master, how many people’s happiness were in Darcy’s guardianship!—how much of pleasure or pain was it in his power to bestow!—how much of good or evil must be done by him! Every idea that had been brought forward by Bingley’s valet and the maid was favourable to Darcy’s character.

  She arrived at Jane’s door and knocked. “Enter,” her sister’s angelic voice called.

  Elizabeth was cheered to see proof of her sister’s restored health. She had slept soundly the previous night, and it did her much good. She was everything serene, graceful, and beautiful. She should be the one to leave Netherfield with an offer of marriage.

  “Oh, Jane! I am pleased to see you looking so well!” Jane smiled, and Elizabeth dropped her voice. “I am positive a certain gentleman will be, too.”

  Jane turned a demure shade of pink. “I wish I would have been able to enjoy his company more.” Blushing again, she added, “And Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. They are such elegant and friendly ladies.”

  Elizabeth chose to nod instead of arguing with her sister on the subject of Bingley’s sisters. “You did not need to miss services to tend to me this morning,” said Jane. “I am quite recovered, as you see.”

  “Nonsense.” Elizabeth stopped speaking as she saw her sister was inspecting her face.

  “You look as though you did not sleep last night. You must not make yourself ill on my account! I would never forgive myself if…” Jane trailed off as tears pricked her eyes. She was such a gentle soul that it clearly pained her to think of her sister suffering any ailment, however much everyone agreed one did not die of trifling little colds.

  Turning Elizabeth by the shoulders and leading her towards the door, Jane spoke again. “Lizzy, please go rest yourself until it is time for us to depart.”

  Elizabeth spun around to resist her sister’s entreaties, but one look at Jane’s face discouraged her. Her sister was genuinely concerned; Elizabeth could see it by the small pinch around her eyes. Jane could be firm where she felt herself in the right.

  “Very well, I suppose I should savour these last moments of quiet. Can you imagine the chatter of Kitty, Lydia, and Mama acquainting us with all the news and gossip we have missed?” Jane and Elizabeth shared a light laugh, and Elizabeth left to rest in her room.

  She disrobed to her chemise and lay in bed, considering her feelings for Mr. Darcy and his proposals. She attempted to sketch his character and was puzzled exceedingly. She thought she knew the man. She prided herself on being a quick study of human character, but Mr. Darcy was proving to be more complex than she originally believed and certainly more than she had ever encountered before.

  At first sight, she had recognised him to be a handsome man with a dashing figure, but he spoke to hardly a soul at the Meryton Assembly and would not dance with a lady not of his own party. Worse than that, Elizabeth overheard Bingley offer to introduce Darcy to her so he might have an agreeable dance partner, and not only had Darcy rebuffed his friend, but he also insulted her—and every other local lady—with his remarks.

  In the weeks that followed, she noticed his silent and taciturn disposition. He appeared haughty and proud and made his disapproval of the neighbourhood very plain. More than once, she had seen him with a scowl on his face while looking at her person, which she thought sho
wed disapproval. She had believed him to be rather ungentlemanly.

  Then last night, he was so friendly, open, and solicitous. This morning, he offered her marriage because he felt obligated by his duty and honour, though she was not entirely sure why. Because he had held her and touched her? Because he admired her? True, if their meeting were known, it would be rather compromising, but he did not speak of that.

  Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide. He did say that another gentleman, presumably her future husband, would know.

  Know what?

  That she had allowed another man to touch her unguardedly? That she did not stop him?

  That she enjoyed it? That even now, merely thinking about it, she felt warm as prickles of sensation coursed through her body?

  Did such sensations indicate she was wanton?

  Would she feel this way if any man touched her? Would she feel this way when her husband touched her? Or was it only Darcy who could elicit such pleasurable feelings within her?

  Elizabeth knew she never felt such feelings before, and she had to admit her attention was frequently captured by Darcy. His countenance was striking. She had engaged in several debates with him, and she admired his intellect. He was clearly intelligent and could express himself well when he wished. He conversed with her as though she were an equal and respected her opinion, even if his own differed.