The Honorable Mr. Darcy

by Jennifer Joy

  With one final glance over his shoulder, he opened the door and looked around the dark library. Nobody was there to bother him. No presumptuous clergyman assuming a friendship for which he had no desire. No red militia uniforms to remind him of Wickham— the thorn in his side. No snide comments and condescending remarks to endure from Miss Bingley. No tactful cuts from Miss Elizabeth. Those smarted the worst, for he knew himself deserving of them.

  He crossed the room, content to be alone with his thoughts for a while. Sinking into a tall, velvet upholstered chair facing the giant window overlooking the Netherfield grounds, he pondered his options. How could he protect Georgiana without giving in to Wickham’s demands? Would he never be rid of the greedy leech?

  Dreams of sending the knave off to the New World or to Australia cheered him. Now, that was not a bad idea.

  Unable to keep still, Darcy rose from his chair and stood in front of the window. His library at Pemberley had glass doors which led out to a fragrant rose garden. In the summer months, he often kept the doors open to better enjoy the perfume of the blooms while indulging in a newly acquired novel or book of poetry. He could never do so in Bingley’s library. While the room enjoyed a large window with a glorious view, it was positioned high off the ground to give more space to the kitchen and the other rooms below that the servants used during the day.

  A rustle in the corner of the room startled Darcy from his thoughts. Squinting his eyes against the darkness, he saw a lump on top of the couch.

  He drew closer, his steps hushed against the carpet. When he saw that it was a young lady, he started. He ought to leave the room. But something about the lady made him peer closer.

  Her dark hair blended into her surroundings. However, the familiar curve of her lips and the mischievous arch of her brows— even in sleep— identified her. It was Miss Elizabeth Bennet. She had avoided him all evening, and now here she was. He would have enjoyed her conversation.

  Leaning down, he appreciated how peaceful she looked in slumber with her eyelashes spread across her cheeks. She sighed and shifted her weight, freezing Darcy in place. He had already stayed too long. He must leave.

  Slowly and deliberately, he shifted his weight to his toes so that he might depart without waking her. He took a step back and lost his balance when he stumbled on an object lying on the floor. Flailing his arms out to avoid toppling over, his hand caught against a vase or lamp or something inconveniently placed. It clattered to the floor in the one place not covered by a rug to soften its fall just as the clock struck. Darcy reached for the offending object which had caused his stumble and soon held one of Miss Elizabeth’s slippers in his hands.

  “Who is there?” asked Miss Elizabeth in a startled voice.

  Darcy groaned. “I apologize, Miss Elizabeth. I was not aware anyone else was in the library. I shall depart.”

  He had closed the library door behind him. If anyone chanced upon them alone in the dark room, Miss Elizabeth’s reputation would be compromised.

  “What time is it?” she asked, looking around her frantically.

  “The clock just struck midnight.”

  “Midnight? Oh bother, I must have fallen asleep. I must go.”

  She scrambled to her feet, her stocking toes searching for her slippers. Darcy reached down and placed the one he held before her.

  The door widened and Bingley’s housekeeper peeked in. “Is anyone in here?” she asked.

  Miss Elizabeth moved forward. If they were seen…. Darcy clamped his hand over her mouth, pulling her against him and drawing them deeper into the shadows.

  With a click, the housekeeper closed the door, locking it behind her. They were stuck.

  Chapter 4

  Elizabeth’s immediate inclination was to bite Mr. Darcy’s thick fingers, which she did with wholehearted enthusiasm.

  As her teeth sank into his flesh, she heard him suck in air sharply. However, his solid arms did not loosen from around her. She would scream if only she could breathe.

  “Hush!” he hissed, his breath tickling her ear and annoying her further.

  She found herself stuck in Mr. Bingley’s library with Mr. Darcy. Alone. Together.

  The clattering of the housekeeper’s keys stopped and after a few seconds, Mr. Darcy released his hold on her.

  Taking a large step away, she spun around to face him. “Why did you prevent me from leaving? Now, we are locked in!” She ought to have stomped on his foot.

  Taking off his glove and rubbing the finger she had bitten, he visibly regulated his breath. Only one angry tremor marred the control in his low baritone, “If Mrs. Harris saw you, she may very well have seen me too. Can you imagine the consequences to your reputation had she seen me attempting to hide from her in a dark library with you— an unmarried lady?”

  His smooth voice and sound reasoning stood no chance before her ire. “And can you imagine the consequences when I am missed and it is discovered that both of us have gone missing from the ballroom?”

  Mr. Darcy paced, reminding Elizabeth of a black panther she had seen at an exhibition once. “If we are caught here, you will be compromised, and I will have to make an offer for you.”

  “You would act honorably toward me when you have failed to do so for others?” she spat.

  Running his uninjured hand through his perfect hair, he said, “I can only guess that you refer to Mr. Wickham. Let me assure you, Miss Bennet, that there is more to that tragic story than he would dare admit to you. He is not to be trusted.”

  “And I am to trust you?” She poured as much sarcasm as she could muster into her tone.

  “Trust is earned, not seduced with charm.”

  She scoffed. “And what do you know of charm, sir? Perhaps you can enlighten me as I have yet to see its display in your behavior.”

  He closed the distance between them with one step. His dark eyes lit with a smoldering fire which made her skin tingle. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and lifted her chin before her thoughts muddled.

  “Of what use is charm when it is used to disguise one’s flaws?”

  “Of which you have none, I suppose?”

  “I have faults enough, but they are not, I hope, of understanding, nor so grave as those of Mr. Wickham.”

  “You believe yourself more honorable than he when you are the one locked in a dark room with an unmarried lady?” It was a low blow, but the irony of his claims and their present situation was too great to ignore.

  “I will marry you if it comes to that.” He sounded as thrilled about it as she did.

  “And what makes you think I would accept your offer? Nay, Mr. Darcy, neither of us wants to be trapped in a loveless marriage. No more than we want to be trapped in this room. There must be a way out.”

  She pulled out a hairpin and scurried to the door.

  “You must be quiet lest someone pass by,” ordered Mr. Darcy.

  Annoyed, she answered, “I suppose you have a better way?”

  The doorknob rattled and Elizabeth jumped back, clamping her hand over her mouth to keep from exclaiming aloud. Jovial voices on the other side of the door conversed loudly.

  Mr. Darcy tugged his hand through his hair, resting it on the back of his neck. “This is lovely,” he mumbled.

  Elizabeth remained by the door, hoping that the gaggle of people on the other side would leave.

  “We must find another way out,” said Mr. Darcy. He turned to the window, pulling the curtains aside.

  “I could climb out of the window,” she suggested, opening the glass and peeking out. Nobody was about.

  “Absolutely not!”

  Crossing her arms, she asked, “Why not? I am light and can easily fit through the opening.”

  “What if you fall?”

  Must he object to her every idea? What an agitating man. “There is a nice ledge running around the house, and I am certain it will be no more difficult to jump down from it than from the branch of a tree.”

  Mr. Darcy looked sho
cked. “You have experience climbing trees?”

  Squaring her shoulders, she said proudly, “I have had sufficient practice over the years.” What did she care if he thought her a hoyden? His opinion meant little to her.

  “Why does that not surprise me?” he smiled, disarming Elizabeth’s witty retort. He had a nice smile. A beautiful smile. She nearly smiled back at him before she remembered she did not like him. Not in the least.

  He continued, “I do not doubt your skills, Miss Elizabeth. I do, however, doubt you have attempted the feat in a gown and slippers. Were you to return to the assembly with your dress torn, it might prove difficult to provide a satisfying answer without compromising yourself further.”

  There was that. She dearly wanted to contradict him, but she could find no fault with his reasoning.

  “What do you propose then, Mr. Darcy?” She looked him squarely in the face, determined he not see how greatly his smile had disturbed her.

  “I will do it.”

  “But will you fit through the opening?” His superior height and wide shoulders would not allow it. Only the most agile of men could make such a climb without his size hindering him.

  “I can squeeze through the side. Do you doubt my abilities?” he asked, his eyes full of… mischief? Mr. Darcy knew how to tease? He even appeared to look forward to the risky descent. Elizabeth did not know what to make of him, and it grew increasingly difficult for her not to smile.

  “Who am I to doubt you, sir? The fact is that we need to leave this room before we are discovered, and our only other escape is blocked,” she said, keeping her voice down. She still held the hair pin with which she had planned to pick the lock. Frustrated and confused, she shoved it back into place, jabbing her scalp.

  Oh, how she wished she did not need Mr. Darcy’s help. She could manage well enough on her own.

  “I will enter the house again as if I had merely stepped out of doors for some fresh air, and I will ask where you might be so that I may request a dance.”

  So much for refusing to dance with him. She really had no choice now. “Ask Jane. She will know to look for me here.”

  “It is the first place I would have thought to search.” He looked at her as if he expected her to say something, but his understanding of her only made her wonder why he would remember that unimportant detail. During her stay at Netherfield Park to care for Jane, he had given no indication he had noticed her at all.

  Accepting her silence, for which she was grateful, he bowed. “Very good. Now I must be on my way.” Like a cat, he hopped up and through the window, his coat slipping across the frame as he squeezed through in one smooth motion. “Please be so kind as to close the window,” he said as he inched across the ledge and leapt down to the ground with ease.

  Elizabeth reached out to the glass, letting the cold breeze cool the spark of admiration and flame of curiosity. Tugging at the curtain, she paused. Was that a shadow behind the fountain?

  Grateful that his years of climbing rocks and trees with his Fitzwilliam cousins had not failed him, Darcy stood up from the crouch he had gracefully landed in and looked up at the window where she still stood. He had hoped to see a smile. Instead, her widened eyes looked toward the fountain in the garden.

  His pulse raced as he followed her gaze. He saw nothing. Nor would it be wise to risk discovery by investigating the shadows of the fountain for witnesses of his exit through the window. Looking back up at Miss Elizabeth, he saw her shook her head at him and heard her close the glass.

  Deeply relieved, he swallowed hard. Marriage to Miss Elizabeth would be an uphill battle. She seemed determined to mistake his character, and while he trusted her, he could not yet share with her the truth which would surely clear her vision. Not until he was certain she would protect Georgiana’s reputation as vigilantly as he did.

  He walked around the side of the house, pausing at an illuminated window to assess any damage done to his ensemble. Smoothing his cravat and puffing out the creases, he strolled into the house.

  Miss Bingley was the first person he saw on crossing the threshold.

  “Mr. Darcy, there you are. I had wondered where you had gone to. You simply must keep me and Louisa company or we shall perish from boredom. There is no worthwhile conversation to be had in this crowd,” she complained in her stuffy voice.

  He would much rather escape outside again than endure their insipid conversation. “I would very much like to dance.”

  Perhaps it was evil of him to ignore her pleased reaction, but he needed to get to Miss Bennet so he might inquire after Miss Elizabeth, and thus fulfill his obligation in the ruse. And so he asked, “You have not seen Miss Elizabeth, have you? I have not yet asked her to dance with me this evening, and do not wish to be remiss to Bingley’s guests.”

  Miss Bingley’s nostrils flared and her skin mottled. “No, I cannot say that I have.”

  “I shall ask Miss Bennet,” he said, as the same lady had the good grace to appear in the archway of the ballroom leading out in to the entrance hall at precisely that moment. Bingley followed her, clearly smitten with the fair beauty.

  “Pray excuse me,” Darcy mumbled to Miss Bingley, leaving her to her own miserable company.

  “Miss Bennet,” he bowed. “I have not yet had the pleasure of dancing with Miss Elizabeth. Do you know where she is?”

  He heard Miss Bingley huff behind him and, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her storm away. Better to risk her anger than to encourage her curiosity. Darcy had another secret to keep.

  Chapter 5

  Elizabeth leaned against the wall, contemplating whether it would be better for her to return to the couch or stay where she was. Mr. Darcy seemed to be in no hurry to return. She knew it was her own impatience making the time crawl, but it felt better to cast the blame on him.

  Had she truly been alone in the room, what would she have done to escape? She grumbled to herself for not thinking of it sooner. She did not need Mr. Darcy’s help at all. She would spare herself an unwanted dance with Mr. Darcy and free herself from the dark library before he bothered to inquire after her.

  Pounding on the door, she shouted through the keyhole, “Is anyone there who can help me? The door is locked, and I am trapped!”

  The chatter on the other side of the door quieted as she banged against it again, louder this time.

  “I say, is there someone in there?” asked a masculine voice. It was most likely an officer. He and his friends would have a good laugh over her predicament.

  “Yes, I am locked in the library,” she shouted, hoping they could hear her through the sturdy oak.

  “I will inform Mr. Bingley directly,” said an authoritative voice. Elizabeth could imagine him clicking his heels before marching to find Mr. Bingley.

  Not five minutes later, Elizabeth heard a ring of keys jingling and the glorious sound of the lock turning.

  The housekeeper apologized immediately. “Miss, I must beg your pardon. I did not know you were here.”

  An inquisitive officer with a roguish grin peeked into the room. “Is anyone else trapped in here with you?”

  Mr. Darcy had been correct in his assumption. She was grateful to honestly say, “It is only me. I had a headache and fell asleep on the couch. It is no wonder you did not see me,” she added to reassure the housekeeper.

  Mr. Bingley, with Jane and Mr. Darcy by his side, was beside himself. “I do apologize, Miss Elizabeth. I hope you were not frightened. May I offer you a refreshment?”

  She smiled at his kindness. “Thank you, Mr. Bingley, but it was my own doing.” She laughed. “This will be nothing but a silly story to relate to my sisters over the breakfast table.”

  Jane moved to stand beside her. “When Mr. Darcy inquired where you were, I knew that if you were not in the ballroom or drawing room, then surely you would be in the library.”

  “How fortunate for me to have such predictable tastes and habits,” Elizabeth said in good humor. The officers had their laugh, as
she had suspected they would. She did not care. The final laugh was hers. She and Mr. Darcy, by all appearances, had successfully avoided a compromise.

  She sensed his gaze on her, making her skin burn, but she knew herself too well to allow herself to return his look. Her expression would tell on her somehow, and they were so close to a clean escape from what would have been a disastrous match.

  Mr. Bingley added, “Although, we would have found you soon enough. Just as Mr. Darcy asked about you, an officer informed me that a young lady was trapped in the library. I sent for the housekeeper directly.”

  Miss Bingley sauntered up to their group just as they neared the ballroom. “What has happened? Did I miss the only diversion to take place since our arrival here?” she asked.

  “The housekeeper locked Miss Elizabeth in the library by accident. We have only now freed her. You do not know why the door was locked, do you, Caroline? I remember leaving it open,” said Mr. Bingley.

  All eyes turned to Miss Bingley as she hesitated to answer. “Well, I…,” she began. With a haughty toss of the head, she continued more confidently, “I cannot say for sure. How unfortunate.”

  Elizabeth bit her lips together to keep from laughing. So, she had been right about Miss Bingley. If she only knew what her interference had nearly caused…

  Mr. Darcy bit his lips as well. Was he thinking the same thing? Unable to repress the smile in his eyes, it struck Elizabeth that he might be in possession of a sense of humor after all. It suited him. People would think more kindly toward him if he smiled more often.

  He bowed to her and held out his arm. “Miss Elizabeth, may I have the honor of your next dance?” he asked jovially.

  At that moment, it did not occur to her to refuse.

  “I apologize for taking so long,” he said.