The Darcy Monologues: A romance anthology of Pride and Prejudice short stories in Mr. Darcy's own words

by Joana Starnes

  Elizabeth stiffened, but said nothing in reply, and Darcy was appalled to see she looked as though she was about to weep. Without so much as a second thought, he turned his back to his indignant aunt and gently slid his hand beneath Elizabeth’s on the door handle, determined to provide for her what small amount of relief was within his power.

  “Allow me, Miss Bennet,” he said, and with a quiet click, opened the door for her. His skin, where her gloved hand touched his own, tingled with a warmth that spread like fire throughout his body. The sensation was heavenly, and Darcy, though he had always prided himself on his self-restraint, had no idea how he refrained from closing his eyes and losing himself in the exquisite novelty of her touch.

  “Thank you,” she whispered unevenly, and before he could reply that she was welcome, Elizabeth disappeared into the house.

  Doubtful his aunt was done having her say, Darcy had the good sense to close the door behind her.

  Sure enough, it had no sooner been done when Her Ladyship began her castigation. “Obstinate, headstrong girl!” she exclaimed, pacing upon the front step. “I am ashamed of her! Is this her gratitude for my attentions to her last spring? Is nothing due to me on that score?”

  “Pray, calm yourself, Lady Catherine,” Darcy cautioned lowly. “You have upset Miss Bennet. I doubt you wish to draw the attention of her family.”

  “Her family,” Her Ladyship scoffed. “Tell me, who was her mother? Who are her uncles and aunts? Do not imagine me ignorant of their condition.”

  “We are in full view of the house and within earshot of servants, both yours and Longbourn’s. If Your Ladyship cannot adopt a civil tone, I will take my leave and return to my friends. I have no desire to argue with you, either here or anywhere else.”

  Lady Catherine glanced sharply at him, but did, in fact, follow his counsel. Gradually, her expression lost some of its harshness and she said to him, “Let us sit down and speak sensibly for ten minutes together. No doubt you will see reason where some other persons have not.” Without waiting for his response, she turned and marched to her carriage where a footman assisted her as she climbed inside. “Leave us,” she told her waiting-woman, and Dawson did as she was bid.

  No sooner had Darcy settled upon the rear-facing seat than his aunt declared, “I came here with the determined resolution of carrying my purpose and I will not be dissuaded from it. I have not been used to submitting to any person’s whims. I have not been in the habit of brooking disappointment.”

  To this, Darcy merely inclined his head, for he could not argue that his aunt was very used to having her own way, however much he disagreed with her methods.

  “Tell me, once and for all, are you engaged to that girl?”

  “To Miss Bennet?” Though appearing ignorant would only further incite his aunt’s ire, Darcy could hardly say he cared; not after the way she had behaved on the Bennet’s doorstep, and certainly not after she had upset Elizabeth.

  “Of course, to Miss Bennet. Do not try my patience, Darcy, for I know well you heard us through the door. Are you engaged to her?”

  After a moment’s deliberation, he answered, “I am not.”

  Lady Catherine seemed pleased. “And will you promise me never to enter into such an engagement?”

  “I will make no promise of the kind.”

  Her Ladyship’s eyes narrowed with displeasure. “I am shocked and astonished. I expected to find you more reasonable, or have you so soon forgotten your responsibility to your family? To what is owed to your mother? For it was her dearest wish, as well as mine, that you marry Anne.” She struck her cane upon the carriage floor, as though to drive home her point. “I shall not leave you alone, Darcy; I shall not go away until you have given me the assurance I require.”

  “I am sorry to disappoint, Your Ladyship,” he said with a mild, even-tempered manner that belied his irritation and anger, “but I certainly never shall give it, nor am I to be intimidated into anything so wholly unreasonable.”

  “Unreasonable!” Her Ladyship exclaimed. “It is you who are being unreasonable! You are already engaged to my daughter. Your union was planned while you were in your cradles; and now, at the moment when the wishes of both your mother and myself would be accomplished, to have Anne’s happiness prevented by a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to the family! Do you have no regard for the wishes of your friends? To your tacit engagement with your cousin? Are you lost to every feeling of propriety and delicacy? Have you not heard me say that from the earliest hours you were destined for your cousin and she for you?”

  Though Darcy had made every effort to present himself as the epitome of calm, he was, in fact, much in danger of losing his temper. He had long known his aunt to be prejudiced and intolerant, but her behaviour on this day was beyond the pale. What most enraged him, however, was not the offensive language with which she had abused Elizabeth, but that he was in part responsible for it. Had Darcy not made the decision to ignore Lady Catherine’s desire for a union between himself and Anne all these years and addressed the issue head on, perhaps she would not have verbally assaulted the woman he did want to marry. If he had only told Her Ladyship, in no uncertain terms, that he had no wish, no desire, and no intent whatsoever to marry her daughter, perhaps she would have left him in peace to forge his own path to the altar.

  After sitting in silence for a moment, Darcy felt master enough of himself to say, “You have said quite enough. Once again, I am sorry to occasion Your Ladyship disappointment of any kind, but let me be rightly understood. The union to which Your Ladyship aspires can never take place. My admiration lies, not with my cousin Anne, but with Miss Bennet. My affections and wishes in this matter are of long standing and shall not change.”

  “Because she has drawn you in! She, with her upstart pretentions! She, a young woman without family, connections, or fortune! Is this to be endured? But it must not, shall not be! If you were sensible of your own good, Nephew, you would not wish to pluck this unfortunate girl from the sphere in which she has been brought up. By marrying her, you will be disgraced in the eyes of everybody.”

  Thoroughly disgusted by their entire conversation, Darcy rolled his eyes at the ridiculousness of her uttering such a statement. Surely, the rest of the world would have too much sense to join in any scorn. “Lady Catherine,” he said, “I have nothing further to say on the subject.” And with that, he opened the carriage door and alighted from it. “I bid you good day, Your Ladyship.” And with that, he offered her a polite bow of recognition and returned to the house, where Mrs. Bennet met him in the hall as soon as he had shut the door.

  “Why did Her Ladyship not come inside again and rest herself?” she asked the moment Lady Catherine’s carriage could be heard in the drive.

  “She did not wish it,” Darcy said. “She would go.”

  “Oh.” Mrs. Bennet pursed her lips. “Then you must stay for supper, Mr. Darcy. Mr. Bingley will be joining us, and so we cannot possibly leave you to dine alone at Netherfield.”

  The pleased smile that appeared upon Darcy’s face was genuine. “I thank you, madam. I am honoured to dine with your family.”

  * * *

  Though Elizabeth had clearly been upset when she had left him with Lady Catherine on Longbourn’s front steps, Darcy had not thought she would disappear for the rest of the day. That she was not in the morning room when he returned with her mother came as no surprise; but several hours later, when her family sat down to their midday meal, he learned Elizabeth was to remain in her room, nursing a headache. Neither did she take her tea with them at four o’clock or claim her usual seat at the dining table when the evening meal was served. When she failed to appear downstairs once the gentlemen reconvened in the drawing room for dessert, Darcy’s initial concern for her well-being had become much more.

  Knowing the truth of what transpired between Elizabeth and his aunt, he could not help worrying about her state of mind. Was she truly indisposed with
a headache as her mother and Miss Bennet claimed, or was she simply avoiding him? Darcy was determined to find out, and when he saw Miss Bennet pouring the coffee, he formed his plan.

  “I hope your sister is feeling better,” he said, extending his empty cup to her.

  “I am afraid I cannot tell you, sir. When I last checked on her she was asleep. I did not wish to disturb her rest.”

  Darcy felt his tension ease, if only slightly. Perhaps his fears were unfounded. Perhaps Elizabeth did, in fact, only have a headache. “Of course. A night of rest often does one a world of good. Hopefully Miss Elizabeth will be well tomorrow.”

  “I am sure she will,” Miss Bennet replied with a serene smile as she refilled his cup. “My sister has a hearty constitution and is rarely indisposed for long, especially when the weather is fine. No doubt she will be herself again by morning.”

  “Thank you,” he said, accepting the cup of coffee and raising it to his lips. He was about to return to his friend, who was speaking with Mr. Bennet on the other side of the room, when he suddenly recalled Mrs. Gardiner’s letter. Perhaps, having it to read tomorrow morning when she awakens would help buoy Elizabeth’s spirits, should she still feel unwell. Though he had hoped to present it to her himself, Darcy knew he need not hand it to her directly. Surely, he reasoned, her aunt’s letter would provide the same amount of pleasure whether it was delivered by his hand or Miss Bennet’s.

  “Miss Bennet,” he said, reaching into the breast pocket of his waistcoat. “I happen to have a letter in my possession from your aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. I was charged to deliver it to Miss Elizabeth, but I fear it might be more expedient to entrust it to you instead. I do not wish to delay her delight in receiving it.”

  The surprise upon Miss Bennet’s face could not be denied. “Oh! That is most kind of you, Mr. Darcy. I will be sure to give it to her. No doubt she will be very glad to have it. I did not realise you and my aunt were at all acquainted.”

  “Yes,” he said, thinking fondly of the afternoons they passed together at Pemberley, or more particularly, of the time he passed there with her niece. “We met in Derbyshire during the summer, and Miss Elizabeth was so kind as to perform an introduction. Our acquaintance was recently renewed in London. They are delightful people, your aunt and uncle. I like them very much.”

  “I will be sure to let Elizabeth know when I give her my aunt’s letter.”

  “Thank you,” he said. “Please tell your sister I hope she is better. I am sorry—very sorry—to have missed the pleasure of her company this afternoon.” And with that, he returned to his friend.

  * * *

  The evening ended with Bingley inviting the Bennets to dine at Netherfield the following day, and so it was at four o’clock in the afternoon that their carriage was heard pulling up to the house. As the family alighted, Darcy stood with Bingley in the entrance hall, ready to receive the guests as they were announced.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, Miss Bennet, Miss Mary Bennet, and Miss Katherine Bennet, sir,” said Bingley’s butler as they filed into the house.

  Once again, it appeared Elizabeth was absent, and Darcy felt nothing short of devastated. As Bingley escorted his future mother-in-law into the drawing room, Darcy ignored his disappointment and offered Miss Bennet his arm. “It is nice to see you again, Miss Bennet. You look lovely this evening.”

  And indeed, she did, wearing a beautifully embroidered gown edged with Belgian lace. Her smile was warm as she placed her gloved hand upon his arm, giving him leave to escort her. “Thank you, Mr. Darcy. It is nice to see you as well.”

  As they began walking, he tilted his head toward her own and said, “I cannot help but notice Miss Elizabeth did not accompany you. I hope she is not worse.”

  “Oh, no, sir,” she assured him. “My sister is much better today. She chose to remain at home this evening and rest, that is all.”

  “I am relieved to hear that she is better,” was all he could think to say.

  They entered the drawing room and Darcy handed Miss Bennet to Bingley. He may have been at Netherfield, but his thoughts were three miles away at Longbourn, where Elizabeth was at that moment alone. He could not deny the prospect was tempting. Would she be pleased to see him? Or would she be put out by his presence? Darcy was damned if he knew.

  Across the room, Mrs. Bennet’s voice rang out, calling his attention back to the present. “And, so I told Lady Lucas there was nothing so comforting as knowing I will soon have two daughters married. I always knew Jane was not so beautiful for nothing, and I daresay Lydia is just as handsome. It is no wonder they were able to attract such fine husbands.”

  Darcy rolled his eyes as he claimed a seat near the pianoforte. Fine husbands, indeed. While he was confident Bingley would do everything within his power to please Miss Bennet and be a good husband to her, he doubted Wickham would bother doing the same for her sister.

  “What about me, Mama?” Kitty asked, sounding slightly put out. Beside her, Mary made no comment at all.

  “Oh, you are pretty too, Kitty, but I daresay no one is as lovely as your sister, Jane.”

  Kitty huffed. No doubt, Darcy thought, because her mother’s thoughtless comment injured her. He felt like huffing as well. While Jane was certainly beautiful with her blonde hair, blue eyes, and handsome figure, in Darcy’s opinion Elizabeth was as lovely. Her countenance was darker, and her build slighter, but there was something in her manner of speaking, in the way she moved, and laughed that captivated him. Her complexion had a certain brilliancy, her lips were pink and full, and her eyes, which he had always considered fine, revealed her intelligence every bit as much as her discourse and her decorum. To Darcy, she was the perfect woman. Mrs. Bennet could say all she wished of her favourite; Darcy had his own.

  In this way, they passed the next hour, until it was time to go into the dining room. Mrs. Bennet’s conversation revolved around Jane and her upcoming wedding to Bingley, while Darcy’s head was full of nothing but Elizabeth. With a rueful turn of his mouth, he finally acknowledged the one thing he refused to admit before: that he had no wish to be at Netherfield when she was at Longbourn. He had too much to say to her, too much to ask her, to concentrate on anything else.

  Catching Bingley’s arm, Darcy quietly made his excuses: he had developed a headache and lost his appetite. He would withdraw for the rest of the night.

  Bingley expressed his concern, but Darcy urged him to see to his guests instead. Convincing him was the work of a moment, and when his friend offered his arm to Miss Bennet with a congenial smile and escorted her to dinner, Darcy discreetly made his way to the door, where he ordered his horse to be saddled at once.

  The distance between the two estates passed quickly, as Darcy urged his horse along the lane at a faster pace than he would have done had the sun not been so low in the western sky. Before long he reached the pale that marked Longbourn’s drive and turned. As the gravel crunched beneath his horse’s hooves, one thought, one rhythm repeated itself: Make her mine. Make her mine. Make her mine.

  At the door, he dismounted, surrendered his horse to the stable boy’s care, and ascended the steps, where he paused to run his hands through his hair. What in God’s name was he doing, intentionally calling upon Elizabeth while her family was out? The only other time he had orchestrated such a breach of propriety was in Kent, and he well remembered how horribly that evening had turned out.

  It was too late to turn back, however, and after drawing a fortifying breath, Darcy raised his hand and knocked upon the door. Rather than the housekeeper, a young maid admitted him and led him to a tiny sitting room toward the back of the house, where she announced his arrival and promptly shut the door.

  The only source of light was from a low-burning fire in the grate, which cast the entire room in an intricate tapestry of long, dancing shadows and warm, burnished light. Upon a chaise, with her feet tucked neatly beneath her gown, sat Elizabeth. That she was taken aback by his presence was apparent by the way she regarded him:
with parted lips and wide, incredulous eyes. Darcy fervently hoped her astonishment would not soon turn to indignation.

  “I hope you are better,” he said to her, and grimaced, for he had said very much the same thing last April before he had proposed. He cleared his throat and began again. “You were not at dinner, Miss Bennet.”

  It took a moment for Elizabeth to find her voice. “Nor are you, Mr. Darcy.”

  “No,” he replied, slightly chagrined. “Your sister informed me you were unwell.”

  “Oh.”

  In that one word, Darcy could hear her surprise as clearly as he could see her sitting before him and felt his heart sink. Was his concern for her well-being still so difficult for her to comprehend? Had the fact that he had taken her reproofs of last April to heart and changed for her completely escaped her notice when they were at Pemberley? Or did Elizabeth simply have so little faith in him as to believe him incapable of sustaining such a profound alteration over time?

  Three days ago, Mr. Gardiner gave Darcy cause to hope Elizabeth might very well return his regard. His optimism only increased after his aunt’s visit, for he knew enough of Elizabeth’s disposition to be certain that, had she been absolutely, irrevocably decided against him, she would have acknowledged it to Lady Catherine, frankly and openly. But now, after witnessing her reaction to his concern for her well-being first hand, Darcy’s confidence was waning fast. He feared the Gardiners’ assumptions were exactly that: assumptions and nothing more. He had no idea what to do.

  After a moment, Elizabeth said to him, “I am much better, thank you. It appears you have missed your supper for nothing, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps there is time yet for you to return for dessert.”

  His agitation increased and, in an effort to retain his composure, Darcy strode to the fireplace, where he propped his forearm upon the mantle and rubbed his forehead with his hand. “May I speak candidly?” At once, he regretted the severity of his tone.