A World of Expectations_Book 2_The Confrontation

by Gayle Lynn Messick

  “Humph.” Darcy continued to march to the house with uncommon speed, his long strides pulling him away from both the parsonage and the irritating colonel. He felt the hairs upon his neck standing straight up.

  “Have I touched a nerve, dear cousin?” Richmond said.

  Darcy entered the house without speaking, bounded up the stairs two steps at a time, and rushed toward his bedchambers. Richmond tried to follow, but with shorter legs, he failed to reach the door before Darcy slammed and locked it shut. His cousin’s laugh could be heard as he walked down the hall to his own chambers.

  Darcy paced the room. Damn charm. Blast! Why does she not see beyond the fine words of charming men?

  He needed to think, and his feet carried him to the window where he moved the drapery back and peeked out over the front lawn, concentrating his stare on the forced landscape design.

  Goulding, Blake, Wickham, and now Richmond. Darcy slumped into the chair and tapped the arms with his fingers. He recalled her appearance while she gazed upon the other four men.

  The image of her laughing with Goulding struck first; her eyes flickered when she spoke, her head tilting to the right. Darcy shook his own head when he realized it was leaning to the left. She never tilted her head when she spoke with me. He returned to tapping his fingers and conjuring up images until he could not sit still any longer.

  He poured himself a glass of wine, and wondered why his aunt did not provide brandy. He would tell his man to fill a carafe and keep it filled for his entire stay.

  Why must that invisible hand squeeze my neck everytime I am around her? “You look lovely today, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy said aloud and then ran his hand through his hair. Why could I not have been a little charming?

  He gulped his drink and settled back down into his chair. She did not tilt her head sideways at all with Blake; why she gazed up to him with her head lowered. Even now, he felt his hand itching to reach for her chin. He wanted to lift it up, gaze full square into those eyes, and amuse her until the tiny gold and sometimes green flecks would appear. Her eyes had always turned a subtle, shiny emerald color when she cast them on Blake. No wonder the man waited all day for her. He shook his head.

  “Damn you, Blake. Why did you take a liking to her? You filled her head with…” Darcy paused, gulped another sip and added, “flowery words. Did you give her flowers too?” He remembered she had worn wildflowers in her hair at Sir William’s party, twirled a garden rose at his Tup Running game, and adorned tiny rosebuds in her curls at Bingley’s ball. He felt a stab when another image of a flower appeared, this time a marker in what he assumed was a secret passage in the book Blake gave Elizabeth at Netherfield Park.

  Darcy rose and began to walk around the room again, stopping and holding his breath until the footsteps he heard in the hall faded away. With only a single hour of privacy left, he had no desire for company. Richmond can deal with Aunt Catherine and Anne this trip.

  He poured his third glass of wine, not hesitating as he drained it. Pulling the drapes back, he envisioned a different world outside. Little children with beautiful black curly hair pranced on the lawn with makeshift wooden horse sticks, each with the Darcy crest emblazed on their bridles. He leaned closer to the windowpane when the little girl gazed up to his window, smiling all the way to his heart.

  But when the girl’s eyes slowly transformed into those of a grown up woman in a pale yellow ball gown, he stepped back from the window, closing the curtain in an unsuccessful attempt to block out the vision. Her eyes grew increasingly dark until they were black as an unlit night sky. He shuddered as he heard her call out, “blinded by prejudice.”

  Unable to stop the words from ringing in his ears, he raised his hands to each side of his head, attempting to block out her taunts. His actions made no difference, as he could still hear her say, “He has been unlucky to lose your friendship, and in a manner which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

  Another blasted charmer. Wickham must have been at his best to convince her to defend him so. Did he woo her too? Damn him and his blasted charm. ‘Lose his friendship’ What did she mean by that? ‘Prejudice!’ Humph. If she only knew the truth.

  He smoothed his clothing. Richmond will be talkative tonight. How does he think of such frivolous subjects, and why do the women always listen and laugh? As Darcy approached the door, the sight of an animated and laughing Elizabeth speaking to his cousin sprung into his mind. Damn blasted charm.

  ***

  The week continued along the same pattern. Darcy woke early, ate breakfast, and went for a morning ride. He returned to find Richmond and Anne chatting about impractical things while they ate their meal. His aunt always had her breakfast tray sent to her room. After spending the day on the estate problems, he spent his late afternoons listening to his aunt expound on the virtues of Rosings and its female heir. He appeared both attentive and noncommittal, and continued this charade through dinner and evening drinks. Every evening, the four played cards; Richmond paired with their aunt and Darcy with Anne. Only his superior play allowed them to remain competitive.

  All during the week, Richmond appeared to be enjoying Darcy’s situation, sending him secret smirks whenever possible. Late at night, they met for several games of billiards. Darcy had introduced him to Twenty Points when he had first returned from Hertfordshire, but now preferred not to play that game or to engage in anything remotely connected to Netherfield Park, in general, and Longbourn, in particular.

  Drinks in Darcy’s bedchambers followed the billiards and then Richmond would retire, leaving him to spend a restless hour or so before succumbing to sleep. He tossed and turned, falling asleep late in the night. Nothing he did, be it drinking or thinking, could shake her likeness or her fine eyes from his consciousness.

  He had not returned to the parsonage since that early morning almost a week ago; however, the Sunday Services brought about a change in the pattern. The day before, Richmond had not joined Lady Catherine and Anne for their normal afternoon visit, and his whereabouts were not revealed until he came to Darcy’s room for his brandy later that night. He had spent the entire afternoon with the Hunsford ladies, and the majority of his time in deep conversation with Miss Elizabeth.

  Darcy squeezed the arms of the chair each time his cousin deliberately and methodically shared a word or a look he had received from the beautiful Elizabeth. Richmond withheld nothing in painting a picture of her lovely smiles, whispers, glances, and even an accurate description of the flashing golden and green specks.

  When his cousin retired to his own bedchambers, Darcy paced back and forth between his bed, the door, and the window until the wee hours of the morning, all the time arguing with himself over all the men in Miss Elizabeth’s life: Richmond, Wickham, Goulding, and Blake. He steadily drank the entire carafe of brandy. He debated the merits of a country girl without money or connections and having an unfortunate family. Finally exhausted at one in the morning he fell into a deep sleep until three hours later when he bolted upright in bed.

  “She saves her most serious looks for me. Why it is me—I am sure now—she loves me.”

  Darcy did not return to sleep, choosing instead to jump out of bed, light a candle, and stand at the window, staring at his reflection flickering in the glass against the blackness of the night. His hair was tousled; his nightshirt twisted and wrinkled.

  The timepiece on the mantle indicated the sunrise was more than an hour away. He had time to determine what his next step would be.

  “She loves me, I am positive,” Darcy stood before his reflection in the window, rubbed his chin, and glared at his face.

  She does not want Blake, or she would have met with him the day after the ball. She had never even pretended she wanted Goulding, no matter how fond there were of each other. They would be engaged by now if she did. Darcy thought of Wickham. I must warn her somehow of his evil side. But his mouth curved into a smile as he remembered her stay at Netherfield Park. All the time flirting with Bla
ke; she tried to make me jealous! Why was I so blind? She sent me sly looks often, and I was a fool not to know. What must she think of me?

  “It cannot be helped, but I will show her I understand now. I will attend to her, and it will not be with childish words or pretty flowers. My Elizabeth has more depth than that.” My Elizabeth! His deep-set dimples and the crinkled skin beside his twinkling eyes were easily discernable in the window’s reflection. He grasped his hands behind his back. “I will treat her with proper respect and decorum.”

  Darcy mentally listed ways to court her attention. He did not believe she needed much encouragement. He was rich, and after evaluating the image on the windowpane, decided he was handsome enough to tempt her. Yes, she is discerning in her choice.

  A knock interrupted his reverie, and when he opened the door, he was startled to find Richmond fully dressed for a sunrise ride.

  “You are up and about early.”

  “Are we not leaving today? My trunks are ready, and I came to see if a morning gallop was to your liking before the long carriage trip back to London after church services.”

  Darcy froze. I cannot leave now. He shook his head. “Oh, I beg your pardon. I will be staying another week, but if you wait, I will happily change into riding clothes and join you.”

  When Darcy moved toward the dressing room, silence ensued. Richmond did not speak until they returned from their ride and, the only words he said were a curt and abrupt, “Good ride.”

  Darcy, busy contemplating the new revelation about Elizabeth, did not consider the change in his cousin, although it did register as an urgent matter on his mind. Today his only interests were in Elizabeth. After giving him a slight nod, he left to prepare for church service. Only his best would do, for today he would signal to Elizabeth his desire for a closer acquaintance.

  ***

  Darcy’s gaze never strayed from Elizabeth the entire time he sat in his aunt’s parlor that evening. He was unconcerned when she spent most of the time conversing with Richmond. He overheard her words: Rosings, Hertfordshire, traveling, books, and music. His cousin had said nothing of any consequence, or anything other than his usual brainless chatter, and Darcy sighed, but was content, knowing they were becoming friends. While his aunt rattled on in the background, he anticipated what future meals would be like at Darcy House and Pemberley. He envisioned Richmond and Georgiana laughing and sharing secrets with his Elizabeth, while he oversaw their friendship from the head of the table. His Elizabeth would sit, not at the other end of the table, but to his right. His palm felt a spark as he imagined his hand caressing hers.

  Lost in his reverie, he paid no attention to his Aunt Catherine until she demanded attention be paid to her. Mr. Darcy awoke from his dreams when she asked him to concur in her pronouncement about practicing to Elizabeth. A little ashamed of his aunt's ill breeding and condescending manner, he made no answer. There will be none of that when we are…. Darcy’s chest tightened as he held his breath. Married, I was about to say married. My feelings have gone beyond the desire for friendship. But now I must mull this over more carefully, more rationally, and with logic and practicality. From the raised brows on Richmond’s face, Darcy feared he had displayed his reaction to his thoughts and realized he would have to guard his emotions more closely.

  Later, after he had retired to his bedchambers, Darcy did what had become commonplace for him; he paced. He would pause, pour a drink, take a big gulp, and then continue his long strides around the room, concentrating on the Bennets and other issues. How can I even consider connecting myself to such a family?

  Darcy slid into his chair at the writing table, pulled out a blank sheet, and with a sharpened pen began to list the problems.

  Father. Mr. Bennet hides away in his library. He shows no respect to his wife or silly daughters, but he does look upon his eldest two with fondness. He has shown a lack of judgment on business matters, but that is immaterial to me. He would not be included in my business ventures.

  Mercenary Mother. Yes, Mrs. Bennet is mercenary, but Rawlings pointed out all mothers are thus. He scratched the word from the list.

  Silly and ignorant sisters. Visits could be arranged at my convenience, not theirs. I can determine the best time. One day they will marry, and I will never have to deal with them again. Darcy drew a bold line across the words.

  Friends. Elizabeth did not meet Blake. He was not her choice, so he should not… Darcy returned to window. He cannot fault me. He… he had his chance. He has found another now. His thoughts turned to Bingley. I am sorry that Miss Bennet did not care for Bingley. He could have been my brother. Well, perhaps he would be a good match for Georgiana. They are both gentle people. He returned to the desk and crossed out the word. “My friends will rejoice in my happiness.”

  Duty. My father and mother directed me to marry someone who would enhance my holdings or increase my standing in society. But why? I have more wealth than is required if I was to have ten children. I am my own man. I can choose anyone I please. I am satisfied with my circle of friends. That will not change when I take Elizabeth for my wife. Again he took his pen to the paper and drew a line through the word.

  Darcy froze as he glared at the next word on the list.

  Family. Here is a problem. Aunt Catherine would never approve of anyone other than her daughter to be my wife, even if they had wealth and stature, let alone a no-name country miss from an unknown parish named Meryton. What do I owe her? I will never marry Anne. I need an heir. She cannot argue against that! Darcy jumped up and made his way to the brandy carafe. He poured another drink, but this time he merely swirled the amber liquid around in the glass before putting the drink down without a single sip. He returned to his desk, and glowered at the offending word again. “Family!”

  My Uncle! Of all my relatives, Richmond’s father would be the hardest to persuade. He is rigid in his opinions. He would never accept Elizabeth. Never. When he discovers she has an uncle in Cheapside…

  Darcy abruptly spurted out, “a dishonest uncle in Cheapside.” He ran his hand through his hair and then rubbed his chin. How can I overcome that obstacle? Will I be asked to bail the man out of debtor’s prison? Will he try to con me out of my money? How can I keep Elizabeth away from him?

  “Oh, Elizabeth,” Darcy whispered as he laid his head in his hands. “My dear, sweet, Elizabeth.”

  Saying her name brought back the memory their only conversation since he had arrived at Rosings. He had smiled at her impertinence while she had played the pianoforte, and frowned when he recalled how Richmond sat next to her in a chair, placed too far for turning pages and much to close for merely listening.

  She raised her right brow when she said, ‘You mean to frighten me, Mr. Darcy, by coming in all this state to hear me? But I will not be alarmed though your sister does play so well. There is a stubbornness about me, which will never be frightened at the will of others. My courage always rises with every attempt to intimidate me.’ She had teased me in a way no other woman had done before, showing herself to be intelligent as well as witty.

  “Why did he encourage her to tease me more?” Darcy said aloud, when Richmond said, ‘Pray let me hear what you have to accuse him of. I should like to know how he behaves among strangers.’

  She answered him while playing notes and peering up at me, both the music and her countenance was so sweet. ‘You shall hear then—but prepare yourself for something dreadful. The first time I saw him in Hertfordshire, you must know, was at a ball—and at this ball, what do you think he did? He danced only four dances! I am sorry to pain you—but so it was. He danced only four dances, though gentlemen were scarce; and, to my certain knowledge, more than one young lady was sitting down in want of a partner. Mr. Darcy, you cannot deny the fact.’

  Darcy sipped his brandy and smiled at himself for being able to reveal something private about his character. ‘I certainly have not the talent which people possess, of conversing easily with those I have never seen before. I cannot catch t
heir tone of conversation, or appear interested in their concerns, as I often see done.’

  His willingness to share his faults with her startled him, since he had never discussed them with any other person, not even Richmond. He sighed. Well, now she knows I am shy as well as resentful! His gaze drifted to the window, and although there was not a cloudy view of Hunsford, he wondered if she was looking out the window towards him. When he wondered if he had caused her any worry, he felt a twinge in his neck until he remembered he had ended the conversation with a compliment to her, ‘You are perfectly right. You have employed your time much better. No one admitted to the privilege of hearing you, can think anything wanting. We, neither of us, perform to strangers.’