Darcy's Ultimatum

by Jennifer Joy

  Her pace quickened as she thought about spending a season in London. Though her uncle was in trade, he was wealthy, liked, and respected by many and had already secured invitations to several private balls and card parties. After all, his nieces were daughters of a landed gentleman— never mind their absolute lack of fortune.

  There would be no welcome from Almack’s, where ambitious young ladies with social aspirations sought to attend, but that suited Elizabeth very well. She much preferred the company of people who looked her in the eyes instead of down their noses.

  What started out as a pleasant topic soon became worrisome as Elizabeth thought of the reason she and Jane needed to marry soon and to marry well. The entail on their father’s estate only allowed for a male to inherit. On his death, which her mother swore could happen at any instant, they would be cast out of their home and have insufficient funds to live on. The burden lay with Jane and herself, as it appeared that Mary, the next sister in age, would be a spinster or marry a clergyman. Most young men avoided her and her self-righteous ways. Kitty and Lydia were much like Mother in character and would surely marry very handsome, very poor young men who were equally as frivolous— preferring tassels and buckles to anything practical or necessary.

  Elizabeth sighed deeply and slowed her pace. She had not meant to walk as far as she had, but her thoughts had carried her away as quickly as her legs. Jane’s warning of rain passed through her mind as the mist in the air thickened and she knew she would soon hear the pitter-pat of sprinkles on her bonnet. Have I really been gone that long?

  Tightening her shawl around her shoulders, she turned back to go home. Her breath came out in puffs as she quickened her pace. The warmth of the sun hid behind thick clouds and she grew cold as the breeze bit her cheeks.

  Behind her, Elizabeth heard the crash of wheels and horse hooves tromping through the mucky path. Just maybe she could get a ride. Chances were it would be someone she knew, for strangers did not often pass through. She turned to wave at the coach. In her haste, she paid no heed to her footing until she took a step and her foot refused to budge. She was stuck ankle-deep in mud. Putting her basket down, Elizabeth noticed a deep puddle directly in front of her— exactly in the path of the on-coming coach.

  “Oh, blast,” she said out loud as she stood up and waved at the approaching coach while trying to restore some semblance of dignity. It was an elegant coach, unknown to her. Blast. What if Mother is right and inside is a handsome gentleman who will see me in this ridiculous predicament? To make matters worse, her hem was abominable.

  A trickle of cold puddle water ran down the inside of Elizabeth’s boot as she finally released her foot from the pocket of mud and attempted to move out of the way of the puddle in the road. But it was too late.

  Elizabeth gasped in shock as the coach doused her with muddy water, splashing her from top to bottom. Drenched and temporarily blinded, she stepped back, trying to wipe her eyes with her shawl. Only nothing was there to step on. Down, down, down she went until she landed with a glorious splash in the trench of water along the side of the road.

  Elizabeth barely had time to gasp before she saw two gentlemen hastening toward her. The first gentleman was everything she imagined the hero in a novel to be: tall, dark, handsome, and superbly dressed. Mother had been right.

  The second gentleman seemed like a happy sort with a shock of ginger hair.

  Trying to find her feet to leverage herself up, Elizabeth did her best to right herself without making a further mess.

  “Please, miss, let me help you,” said the handsome, tall gentleman.

  Elizabeth extended her hands and the gentleman hauled her up to her feet and positioned her in a drier portion of the road.

  Before she could thank the gentleman, he said, “My name is Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley. This is my friend, Charles Bingley of London. I apologize for this distressful mess my carriage has caused.” He handed her a clean handkerchief and looked accusingly toward the coachman’s box.

  “I am Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn. While the timing of your carriage was most unfortunate, I fear it was my own clumsiness to blame.” She looked down at her dress and tried to pull the sticky fabric from her body. “What a sight I am.”

  “Do you live near here? Perhaps we could see you safely home?” suggested Mr. Darcy.

  Clearly having no other option, Elizabeth accepted the kind offer. She felt ridiculous in her wet clothes and the sooner she was out of the company of Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley, the better. She shivered with cold.

  “Please, you are shaking. We must get you home,” insisted Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth squished with every step she took. Thinking of how her mother would react when she showed up looking a fright with two handsome gentlemen at Longbourn caused her to giggle.

  “Are you well, Miss Bennet?” asked Mr. Darcy.

  “I am quite well. Everything except perhaps my pride. If you have ever made yourself the fool in public, you would know how I feel.” Elizabeth smiled and chuckled.

  “Better to laugh than to cry, I say.” Mr. Bingley smiled back at her, apparently understanding her meaning. What a charming gentleman.

  “I cannot say I have ever experienced such a thing. Great care should be taken to never compromise one’s respectability in society,” Mr. Darcy said, a little stiffly Elizabeth thought.

  Elizabeth felt her cheeks burn. How easily Mr. Darcy offended her respectability with his overly-superior comment. A second glance at his profile convinced her that he was not as handsome as she had originally thought. His defined chin suggested a stubborn nature. The intensity in his eyes merely showed a judgmental aspect. His dark, wavy hair… well, that was perfect and she could think of nothing negative except that maybe it would fall out in old age.

  Arriving at the door of the coach, Elizabeth peered inside. It was pristine. A sick feeling came over her. “Oh, I could not. Look at me.” Once again she attempted to pull her dress away from her legs, but the fabric only returned where it was, doing its best to trip her and take away any shred of modesty she possessed.

  “Nonsense, Miss Bennet. Our only purpose right now is to see you safely home before you catch a cold,” said Mr. Bingley with a comforting smile.

  Without a word, Mr. Darcy reached into the coach and pulled out a blanket. He dropped it around her shoulders then said abruptly, “This should help. Please, cover yourself.”

  Of course he is only concerned with the state of his coach, thought Elizabeth. What a dreadful man! He would not even look her in the eyes.

  Not one to let another’s comments demoralize her, Elizabeth wrapped herself up in the blanket and stepped into the coach. She sat straight, lifting her chin as Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley sat opposite. She may not look it at the moment, but she was a lady and would act like one.

  Mr. Darcy narrowed his eyes at her and she just knew he was criticizing her in his mind.

  “Where is Longbourn?” he asked.

  “My father’s estate is only a couple miles down the road.” There, now he knew that she was a lady; the daughter of landed gentry. As Elizabeth gave directions to Longbourn, she watched Mr. Darcy for a reaction. He only raised an eyebrow and repeated the directions to his coachman, who would no doubt receive a verbal thrashing for causing their current predicament.

  The coach traveled a short distance when it lurched forward, sending Mr. Darcy sprawling toward Elizabeth. He landed with both hands on either side of her head and she could feel Mr. Darcy’s breath on her face. His manner may be disagreeable, but he smelled good.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said as he hurried back to the other side of the carriage.

  Mr. Darcy spoke nary a word for the rest of the drive, but Mr. Bingley spoke easily and soon put Elizabeth at ease. She almost forgot the muddy incident, causing her ride in a stranger’s carriage, as Mr. Bingley asked her opinion of Netherfield Park and explained his reason in traveling there. Elizabeth took advantage of the opportunity to mention some of Her
tfordshire’s fine points and encouraged him to let the estate.

  “If a land agent were present, I should sign the lease this very moment. What a charming place it must be. Are there no faults in Hertfordshire?” beamed Mr. Bingley.

  “The incessant rain and neglected roads,” said Mr. Darcy under his breath.

  It was true enough, but Elizabeth could not permit an outsider to say such a thing against her home county. “I daresay Hertfordshire is not the only county in England to suffer rain and neglected roads. Surely it is preferable to the confined spaces of London.”

  “You do not know London?” inquired Mr. Darcy, disbelief on his face.

  It must be shocking for him to hear of a lady who was unacquainted with the hub of society. “Hardly at all. I do have plans to spend the season there with my aunt and uncle,” she said.

  The coach came to a stop and Elizabeth wiped the fogged glass to look out the window. They had arrived at Longbourn.

  Chapter 4

  The first thing Elizabeth saw through the rain, which was now pouring down in sheets, was her mother standing in the doorway of the house. Elizabeth looked apologetically at the gentlemen, trying to think what to say to prepare them for the scene awaiting. Mother was good at making scenes— as were her younger sisters.

  “I thank you for the ride. I hope you will accept my family’s hospitality and a cup of tea with some warmth by the fire.” Both Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were soggy and Elizabeth would not have Mr. Darcy criticize her manners. Besides, Mr. Bingley was very friendly and she wanted him to meet Jane.

  The whole Bennet family met them at the door and Elizabeth quickly gave introductions. Her goal was to run upstairs, clean up, put on her most becoming frock, and make it down to the sitting room before the tea was served.

  “My, my, what a fancy carriage,” Mrs. Bennet said in awe before the door closed her view of it outside.

  Elizabeth feared an impertinent question, but Jane and Father saved the day. Jane showed the gentlemen into the sitting room, accompanied by the rest of the family, and Mr. Bennet asked about their journey. Elizabeth ran to her room, leaving her grimy dress in a heap to attend to later. She then cleaned up as best as she could from the wash basin and threw on a gown she had received many compliments on. Looking in the mirror, she arranged her hair somewhat and smiled at her reflection. Not bad. Her adventure had lent a becoming pink to her cheeks and a tendril of hair, which had escaped the puddle splash, curled by her face.

  Elizabeth entered the sitting room and walked over to the beckoning fireplace. Mr. Bingley’s attention was firmly set upon Jane, as Elizabeth had hoped. Mr. Darcy sat silently, looking like he would prefer to leave.

  “Mr. Bingley was telling us how you met, Lizzy. I must say, you know how to make an impression,” said her father, an eyebrow raised.

  “Were it not for our presence, I daresay, no accident would have occurred other than Miss Bennet arriving home rather wet,” said Mr. Darcy. He sounded so stoic and Elizabeth could not decide if he was apologizing for the incident or chastising her impulsiveness in walking in the rain. His eyes met hers, but she could not read his expression, so she looked away.

  “How fortuitous you were traveling through the area. You made mention of Netherfield Park. Do you plan to occupy the estate?” asked Mr. Bennet.

  Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands together. “Oh, do let Netherfield Park. We should love to have a neighbor as charming as yourself. It is not so far to prevent you from calling should you want to.” She looked from Mr. Bingley to Jane and back again. Kitty and Lydia heartily agreed with Mother and the topic shortly turned to dancing and balls.

  Mr. Bingley seemed overwhelmed with the plans the ladies made for him and his home– for there was no option for him but to let Netherfield Park in their outspoken opinions. He had no choice but to sit back and nod to their demands.

  Elizabeth tried in vain to turn the conversation and Jane looked pained.

  Finally, Mr. Bennet put an end to their plans. “Please, do excuse my wife and daughters’ eagerness, Mr. Bingley. Netherfield Park has been so long vacant and it would seem that they are starved for entertainment and good company.”

  “If the property is all you say it is, I am sure that I will find a happy home in it. Then, you may be certain of a ball.” Mr. Bingley’s promise caused much excitement in the room and only the tea being brought in calmed Mother enough to pour and serve.

  Tea was a lively event with Mr. Bingley. It was clear to Elizabeth that he fancied Jane from the start. Mr. Darcy still sat in surly silence— only speaking when necessity demanded it.

  Once again, the conversation turned to diversions. Then it was Mary who spoke. “We must not forget that we are all servants on this earth. Our purpose is to effect the will of God, praying and living in righteousness and moderation.”

  Lydia threw a piece of ribbon at her pious sister. “La, Mary, you do speak such nonsense. I think that God wants us to enjoy life to the fullest. That is my purpose. Otherwise, why would he give us things that provide us with such pleasure?”

  Mrs. Bennet perked up. “I can think of no greater pleasure than a ball. Do you plan to take residency at Netherfield Park immediately or will you gentlemen be in London for the season? Jane and Lizzy will be there, in London, I mean.” She said the words expectantly, as if her daughters’ presence would ensure the men’s attendance.

  Mr. Bingley answered while Mr. Darcy drained his saucer of tea. “I cannot speak for Darcy. For myself, I do intend to enjoy a season in London and would be delighted to see the Miss Bennets at the assemblies.”

  Everyone looked to Mr. Darcy for his reply.

  “I do my best to avoid London during the season.” When this met with silence, he added, “I do not have an inclination for dancing.”

  “Not like dancing? How is that possible?” asked a confused Mrs. Bennet. After a few moments, she waved off the thought. “I would hope that if you see my daughters in an assembly, you would not be so grand as to deny them a dance.”

  Elizabeth was mortified. How can Mother obligate Mr. Darcy to dance with me when he so plainly declared his dislike of the activity? The likelihood of them running in the same social circle was slim at best. Once Mr. Darcy left Longbourn, she had no hope of seeing him again.

  Mr. Darcy set down his empty tea cup and sat forward in his chair, ready to stand. Mr. Bingley followed suit.

  “Mr. Bennet, Mrs. Bennet, we thank you for your hospitality, but do not want to overstay our welcome,” said Mr. Darcy.

  Mrs. Bennet, never a good reader of body language, said, “Will you not stay a moment longer? Jane sings very nicely and Mary plays the piano forte… somewhat nicely. We could have an impromptu dance here if Mr. Bennet will take a partner.”

  His peaceful afternoon threatened, Mr. Bennet said, “Now that is where I draw the line, Mrs. Bennet. Lydia, Kitty, calm yourselves. These gentlemen are clearly anxious to be on their way and I say we should bid our farewells.”

  The relief on Mr. Darcy’s face was obvious to anyone with a discerning eye.

  Bows and curtsies were exchanged and, as quickly as they had entered Longbourn, the gentlemen were gone.

  Elizabeth stood looking out the window until the coach disappeared from sight. Her mother stood waving her handkerchief vigorously in the doorway. The door shut and Elizabeth snapped back to reality. Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley were gone and she would probably never see them again. Good riddance, Mr. Darcy.

  “You are wearing your best dress,” were the first words Jane said when the front door closed.

  Elizabeth blushed at her own vanity. Why indeed bother to wear her finest clothes when she did not care for Mr. Darcy and intended Mr. Bingley for Jane?

  “Come with me. I have to tell you what happened this afternoon. It is every bit as horrible and shocking as it seems, but it is a good story and I daresay will make you laugh,” said Elizabeth to Jane.

  When she had recounted the events of the afternoon and the circ
umstances that led to her sharing a carriage with two gentlemen unknown to her, Jane fell back on her bed in laughter.

  “Oh, Lizzy, do you think we shall meet Mr. Bingley again in London? What an impression they must have of us.” She sank her face into her hands in mock shame.

  “I should think not, Jane. While I would not mind seeing Mr. Bingley, I can only feel relief that we will not see Mr. Darcy again. He has no inclination toward dancing.” She did her best imitation, sticking her nose up in the air and flipping her loose tendrils of hair.

  Elizabeth looked at her sister and they giggled like school girls together.

  In a more serious tone, Jane asked, “Is this what London will be like? Imagine all of the fine young men we will see. I just hope that one of them notices me.” She looked down at her hands, which were wringing in the folds of her dress.

  “A man would have to be a fool not to notice you,” said Elizabeth. She grabbed her sister’s hand and squeezed it. “As for me, it would take a special man indeed to pay me any attention. I am much too opinionated and most gentlemen do not understand my humor,” she added.

  “Say what you want, but I think you left quite an impression on Mr. Darcy. He looked at you through the whole conversation,” said Jane.

  “I care not for what Mr. Darcy thinks,” Elizabeth replied flippantly, though strangely enough, she did not want him to think poorly of her.

  They had not traveled far when Bingley, in a dreamy voice, asked, “Was she not the loveliest creature you have had the privilege to lay eyes upon?”

  An image of a rosy-cheeked lady with eyes that lit up like a fire appeared in Darcy’s mind. His mind traveled downward to Miss Elizabeth’s clinging dress, outlining her figure. Darcy cleared his throat to ask, “To which lovely creature are you referring?”

  “Miss Jane Bennet, of course. Even you cannot deny her beauty.” Bingley sighed and looked out the window.

  “No, I cannot deny it and I believe her family noticed your partiality to her. You looked at no one else.” Darcy had watched his friend’s interaction with the lovely lady and only felt relieved that Bingley had not noticed how difficult it was for him to peel his gaze from Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy did not understand his attraction to her. She had taken offense at almost every word he had uttered, though that was not his intention at all. What a contrary young lady.