Compromising Mr. Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Anthology

by Rose Fairbanks

  Chapter Six

  Darcy peered outside the window of his bedchamber at Netherfield. More rain. Three whole days of blasted rain.

  It was positively unbearable. Bingley’s sisters, as disgruntled as they were about hosting the ball, were working themselves into a frenzy, becoming quite cross with everyone and everything. Bingley was entirely put out by not being able to visit Longbourn. Darcy’s feelings were mixed.

  He longed to see Elizabeth. He had always found the greatest satisfaction just gazing at her. Of course, he also enjoyed their banter and debates. It could hardly be a surprise that he was captivated by a woman who could match him so completely in a game of wits.

  But he was in no better state of control over his distraction in her presence than before; if anything, it was worse. During the dinner at Longbourn, he was rather improper and entertained decidedly lascivious thoughts. In front of Elizabeth’s family! Oh, her father knew, he certainly knew, but at least he had accepted a hasty wedding. Darcy had to own it was the most enjoyable evening he had ever passed in the presence of the Bennet family…certainly one way to cope with them!

  But his feelings were more than that now. He appreciated her feminine charms from nearly their first meeting. He valued her mind and respected her opinion from their first interaction. He loved all of those things about her. But now he knew he loved the complete her. Holding her hand, even the one memory he had of her being in his arms, brought contentment and peace. And it astonished him.

  He chuckled. Truly, it should come as no surprise. Elizabeth never ceased to amaze and enliven. She awoke feelings he believed either long dead or never extant. Why not love?

  How could I have thought it anything but love and not some vague inclination? I feel—he could not find the correct word in his vocabulary—incomplete without her was as near as he could come.

  Darcy was a man in love, but his thoughts could not stray far from the idea of the intimate acts he had engaged in with Elizabeth. How he hated not being able to recall anything beyond the moment she entered the library and one flash of an embrace. He knew he had been sorely tempted to kiss her. Had he?

  He knew what his usual fantasies included. He had never been intimate with a woman before, but several had tried to seduce him; he found it entirely abhorrent. In as much as his dreams of Elizabeth always ended with carnal pleasure, they never began that way. He could never imagine Elizabeth behaving like a seductress—at least before marriage.

  Recalling his favourite fantasy while Elizabeth stayed at Netherfield, he had no doubt that it was one source for his loss of control that fateful night. Seeing Elizabeth in the library must have contributed to his undoing. He indulged himself in the day dream once more.

  Elizabeth walked into the library wearing only her night-clothes, her tempting hair loose and flowing around her shoulders. His fingers itched to hold her silky strands. She did not notice him and began to peruse the shelves, walking closer to the dimming firelight and candles near the mantelpiece. She wore decidedly fewer layers for the night than daytime, and he could see her legs through her dressing gown. Such tempting legs! Strong from her walking and dancing; he was certain her skin would be the softest thing he ever touched. Suddenly feeling parched, he took a large gulp of his brandy. When he set the glass down on the table, the thud alerted her to his presence.

  “Oh!” she cried in alarm, then seemed to calm when she recognised him.

  “Miss Bennet.” He acknowledged her with a nod and shamelessly allowed his gaze to take in the whole length of her body. She blushed.

  “Mr. Darcy,” she whispered.

  “Are you in need of diversion?” he asked, thinking he would love to divert her for the entire night.

  “Yes,” she said, sounding uncomfortable. Then her eyes took on the teasing glint he loved so much. “I would ask you to suggest a volume, but I doubt you can offer any entertainment and certainly nothing I have not already experienced.”

  He smiled rakishly, but she had looked away. “Is that a challenge, Miss Bennet?”

  She returned her eyes to him and arched an eyebrow. “My father has given me free access to his library. I have read a great many things.”

  “Hmm...,the usual histories and poetry, I am sure.” He intentionally baited her.

  She replied sharply, “Mr. Darcy, do you think we do not have booksellers here and never visit London? Or perhaps you mean to say I am too unintelligent to understand satire?”

  He loved the shade of green her eyes took on when provoked and passionate; their fiery expression engrossed him. London society taught women to not express feelings, to feign disinterest in everything, and appear to agree with everything a man of wealth said. Elizabeth’s many pert opinions, given with a mixture of sharpness and sweetness, were intoxicating.

  “Never, madam.”

  “I confess I love a good novel. Unfortunately, there are several I would rather mock. If I were ever to write my own satire, I would place a gentleman in the role of the obedient Pamela, resisting her master’s seduction. Men are not taught to resist those charms.”1

  “You think all men the same? We all succumb to lust or temptations of fortune?”

  “If you would resist the rank and fortune of titled ladies, are you in search of a Pamela?”

  “No. I do value virtue and modesty, but I hope I do not need to be reformed by them. I do admire her for adhering to her values and keeping her self-respect, even when she loved the faulted hero. But I wish for more than that in a wife.”

  He stepped even closer to her and looked into her eyes. “I want a woman who can match me intellectually and defend her opinions. I do not want timidity, and I am sick of deference.” He paused and lifted his hand to stroke her cheek. “I find I admire impertinence and a lively mind very much these days.”

  Elizabeth gasped at the contact but bravely spoke. “And would you be Pamela? You would refuse the trappings of wealth and security?”

  He leaned in and whispered in her ear, “I would for a Lizzy.”

  He pulled back and was pleased to see Elizabeth’s face flush, her eyes looking a shade darker and her breath rapid.

  She shook her head and pushed him away with hands against his chest. “No, you would be like Mr. Bountiful after all and attempt a seduction! You must find it works on all the country maidens.”

  He fixed his eyes on her. “Elizabeth, I am no Mr. Bountiful. I would only offer myself to the one I intend to marry.”

  Her breath hitched, and she seemed to search his soul for the truth. Then she took up his hand and gently kissed it. His heart pounded in his ears; he thought it would burst from his chest. “As would I.”

  He pulled her to him, and she came willingly, remarkably pliant in his arms. He kissed her with deep, passionate kisses and ran his hands over her enticing body. After what was a curious mix of eternity and the flash of a second, he tugged on her hand, pulling her towards the door.

  Breathlessly, he said, “Come with me?”

  “Yes, anywhere.” He opened the door…

  It was then that the library door did open, and Elizabeth walked in, the scene so very similar to his fantasy. But Darcy knew whatever happened that evening could not have been like his fantasy. He could never be so eloquent. And on such subjects! Nor would he have offered Elizabeth marriage, however much he wished to. He was absolutely certain it did not proceed in that way. No, Elizabeth had been hesitant to accept his offer of marriage in the garden instead of acting as though he had already made one.

  Or had he? He could think of no other explanation for her succumbing to his seduction. And simply arguing that in his right mind he would never propose was insufficient. In his right mind, he would never have stolen her virtue in the first place, and he had long since come to accept he had done so. He was most definitely not in his sober and right mind at the time.

  It also means she did not accept me entirely out of obligation, then. Her refusal the next day must have been due to confusion, and as I did
not dwell on affection and mentioned only duty, her pride must have been hurt.

  He smirked a little. Perhaps it had been quite like his fantasy; he was able to talk to Elizabeth openly and had proved sufficiently charming. He puffed out his chest. He could do that, for her. Just be amiable and...tolerant. Yes, tolerating her family’s behaviour was the best he could promise, although thinking of her tempting lips proved distracting enough from the indecorum of the Bennets the other night.

  Once on the subject of Elizabeth’s lips, his thoughts flowed in their usual stream until it was time to dress for dinner.

  *****

  Bingley prowled his library like a caged animal. The rain separating him from Jane imprisoned him in the house, creating his own personal hell. His sisters worked themselves into a frenzy over the ball, his brother-in-law consoled himself with increasing amounts of drink, and Darcy stared into space with a small smile on his lips. He wondered if the world had turned upside down if Darcy was the besotted man, smiling too much while he grumbled over every detail.

  “Charles!” Bingley cringed as Caroline barged in. “I will never help you with another ball again! The headache! And wasted on such country people!”

  “I appreciate the trouble you are going through, but it will not be necessary to help again, for my wife will plan them.” He smiled at the thought.

  “Jane? No, no. Jane would never be capable of planning on this level. She is too kind; she would let all the servants have their way—which, I assure you, is to work as little as possible. If she could wrestle control from that mother of hers, that is.”

  “Mrs. Bennet does not strike me as the type to wish to plan such an event. She has a nervous constitution and would likely spend most of her time abed.” He looked at his sister, who clutched her chest as though she were having an attack herself.

  “Caro, are you saying that you can’t host a ball? Isn’t that on your accomplished ladiesh lish?” Mr. Hurst asked while slurring his words. Caroline began stuttering, and Mr. Hurst laughed.

  Taking a deep breath and smoothing her skirt, Caroline lifted her chin. “Mr. Darcy, I am certain you have compassion on my nerves. Imagine poor Georgiana hosting a ball for her brother in such primitive company.”

  “You are quite right, Miss Bingley. I would never ask it of her.”

  She stepped closer to him. “I suppose your wife would host them instead. Georgiana is soon to come out; you do not have much time to delay before selecting a wife of breeding and poise who can help ease your sister’s way.”

  “Yes, I have made my choice, and we will be announcing it soon.”

  Bingley watched as Caroline’s disappointment showed on her face. She truly had hoped Darcy could be convinced to offer for her. Lifting her slumped shoulders, she replied, “I suppose your aunt is very happy, then.”

  Darcy looked at his book while replying, and Bingley held his breath. “My family’s opinion is of no concern to you.”

  “It’s a shame she’s not a pretty wench like that Miss Elizabeth!” Mr. Hurst said between gulps, and Bingley thought his eyes would bulge out from his head.

  Caroline gave Darcy an evil-looking smile. “Oh, yes. No one could replace Miss Elizabeth’s fine eyes! Well, poor Miss de Bourgh. I am certain she will content herself just fine as the wife of Mr. Darcy, even if she is not the first in his admiration.”

  Darcy looked up from his book, and Bingley could tell Caroline was pleased to at last gain his attention. When he did not speak, Caroline continued her tease. “Well, at least Miss de Bourgh, as the daughter of Sir Lewis, must be more accomplished than Eliza. Certainly Lady Catherine would not allow her daughter to be only a great walker with wild eyes.”

  Darcy stood, and Bingley shivered at the cold glare emanating from his friend’s eyes.

  Towering over Caroline, he said, “I thank you to disparage neither my family nor my future wife, madam.”

  Caroline visibly swallowed. “I assure you, I meant no slight to Miss de Bourgh…”

  “I take Miss Elizabeth as my wife in less than a week’s time. As you know, her eyes enthralled me early in our acquaintance, and the affection she showed her sister by walking to Netherfield sealed my attachment. Perhaps you would like to congratulate yourself on pointing out all of her amiable qualities to me, and with your endless complaints about her connections, I realised I could easily see her worth despite them. I may not have considered her so thoroughly if not for your inspection.” Darcy gave Caroline a fake smile. “Your treatment of her exposed her character to the greatest advantage, and I find she is the most accomplished lady of my acquaintance. If you will excuse me, I will retire for the evening,” he said with a bow before exiting.

  “Ch-ch-charles!” Caroline said as she crumpled to the floor.

  Bingley came over to his weeping sister and offered his handkerchief. “I am sorry, Caro. I did always tell you that he would never offer for you.”

  “But what does she have that I do not?” his sister wailed.

  Bingley shook his head. “He loves her. Who can explain that?”

  “But I love him!” she exclaimed.

  “No, you love the thought of him. You love his estate, his name, and his wealth. You do not begin to comprehend the first thing about the man.”

  “And Eliza Bennet does?” she spat as she began to stand.

  Uncertain how to answer, he avoided the question. “Come, Caroline. At least now you need not worry about Jane having insufficient connections. Nor do you have to worry about killing yourself to impress Darcy with this ball. You ought to rest.”

  She quietly nodded and left the room. Mr. Hurst seemed to have missed the entire thing and snored on the sofa. Louisa was still meeting with the housekeeper. Bingley returned to his outpost at the window and sighed. He needed Jane. He needed her calmness and her good sense. Considering how quickly Darcy was allowed to marry Elizabeth, instead of weeks of waiting, a plan formed in Bingley’s mind.

  *****

  Elizabeth sat in a chair embroidering a new handkerchief and looking out her window, sighed. It was the fourth day of rain. The Netherfield ball was on the morrow and her wedding— which she was still astonished to think about—in only five days. There was so much rain that walking to Meryton was impossible and visits from certain Netherfield gentlemen even more so. The entire household was cross and at odds with one another. Mr. Bennet could not be persuaded to leave his book room for anything but to endure a meal and to slumber. Six women in one house with no outside amusement for four days was a dangerous thing, and something he had learned to avoid at all costs.

  Elizabeth was, in fact, hiding from her family. The one consolation to be had for Darcy’s inability to visit for the duration of the rains was that he had not witnessed her mother’s wedding-preparation antics. Of course, Mrs. Bennet behaved worse than Elizabeth expected, for the rain prevented her from going out to brag and shop. Instead of going herself, everything was retrieved by proxy. Elizabeth smiled wryly and wondered if the Netherfield inhabitants fared any better with the Bingley sisters preparing for tomorrow’s ball. She imagined Mr. Hurst becoming quite friendly with a bottle of port, Darcy hiding in the library or billiards room, and even the amiable Mr. Bingley becoming vexed by his sisters.

  At first, Elizabeth resented the underhanded arrangement Darcy and her father had come to in declaring the wedding date without consulting her. One week’s time! Whoever heard of such a thing? And the man actually had purchased a special licence during his stay in London. Her father explained Darcy’s statement regarding the quick marriage. Mr. Bennet agreed it was prudent, and Elizabeth could not help but blush at his look of reprimand. Darcy also claimed it was necessary due to his commitments in London and Pemberley in December. Her mother, fearing Darcy would simply cry off if he could not have his way, drowned out all her protestations. However, after an hour or two of her mother’s flutterings, Elizabeth privately admitted to a certain amount of sense—and relief!—in not prolonging the engagement and th
e wedding planning. Undoubtedly, the desire for peace was her father’s motivation for allowing Darcy to have his way on the wedding date. In truth, she could hardly blame either of them. There was no time for wedding clothes, however, and that made her mother exceedingly cross.

  But every cry of despair was followed by happy exclamations for Elizabeth’s match to such a wealthy gentleman. Jane’s engagement would be a more normal length, which consoled their mother. Mrs. Bennet could indulge in that wedding’s preparations to her heart’s delight. Still, Elizabeth would have liked to have been involved in the decision and to have voiced her displeasure over the entire affair to her betrothed, whom she had not seen since this accursed rain started.

  Mr. Collins’ behaviour throughout was most unusual. Elizabeth had not noticed his response to the news of her engagement. However, the next morning at breakfast, Mr. Collins claimed the engagement could not be true. Upon Elizabeth and Mr. Bennet’s insistence, he was undeniably shocked, disbelieving, and agitated.

  Elizabeth had taken to not paying her cousin any mind and only noticed there was something murmured about Collins thinking Darcy engaged to Anne de Bourgh. Receiving assurances from Mr. Bennet that Darcy brought a marriage settlement and had a special licence in hand, Mr. Collins reluctantly appeared to accept the betrothal but ceased trying to ingratiate himself with the Bennets. In fact, he spent more time in his room, as though convinced Lady Catherine would materialise in Longbourn’s drawing room at any moment and berate him for daring to socialise with his hosts.

  Earlier in the day, he had mistakenly perceived a break in the rain and most unwisely walked to Meryton to post a letter that could not wait until the morrow. The break was momentary, and the steady downpour resumed before he had so much as reached the edge of Longbourn’s paddock. Mr. Collins continued to Meryton regardless. He now rested in his room, and Elizabeth suspected it would not be long before he succumbed to the chill that was taking hold even as he returned.