Never Mind!

by Nicky Roth

  When she returned back inside, thankfully the chaos had subsided but nonetheless, Elizabeth made a bee-line for the bar.

  'You look dreadful, Eliza,' Charlotte commented dryly and without Elizabeth needing to say a word, poured her two shots before cutting the lemon.

  'I feel dreadful. But Mary is determined to do it, and once she has set her mind on something, there is no possible way to stop her.'

  Damn, the Tequila was just what she had needed!

  'Hm, so stubbornness runs in the family? Funny I never noticed before,' Charlotte grinned broadly, adjusting the ill-fitting cap on her head.

  Her glance trailing to something behind Elizabeth Charlotte suddenly looked wistful.

  'Lizzy, have you noticed how much attention Mr Bingley pays to Jane?'

  Elizabeth had not, aside from that they had danced. She had simply been too busy reining in her younger sisters to notice much around her aside from things like Lydia trying to sneak some alcohol, or Kitty, all the while whining that there were so few young men, trying to slip into the pub to the other side of the building, where such were surely to be found and last but not least Mary wise-cracking as if she was at least a hundred years old. Not to mention her mother, who, with every sip of wine she had, spoke louder and louder while at the same time with less and less sense. When she had announced Meryton Morris, her voice had been positively slurred, but at least she had not required a microphone.

  Curiously turning around she followed Charlotte's gaze and found Jane among the masses, and sure enough, there right beside her, stood Mr Bingley with what could only be described as an adoring smile on his face. Well, Jane was beyond any doubt the prettiest girl in the room, no wonder the young man was drawn to her like a moth to the light.

  'Well, it does seem as if he likes her very much,' Elizabeth replied, reaching for her other Tequila.

  'I'll have a glass of Bushmill's please,' an unpleasantly familiar voice chimed up behind her just when she had started to relax somewhat.

  Though, giving it a second thought, chimed probably was the wrong word to use for Mr Darcy's soft baritone. So, he looked nice, had a nice voice, so why did he have to have such a shitty personality? And besides, how come he had such an amiable friend? Okay, the latter was perhaps easily explained. If Mr Bingley wasn't as amiable, he presumably would never have befriended such a pompous arse.

  'Are you well?' he asked softly, looking her directly in the eye.

  Elizabeth honestly almost choked at his address. Wow, had his slutty crony refused to share his bed tonight and made it necessary for him to seek an alternative or something? If that was the case, it would certainly not be her. Nope, Mister.

  'Yes, thank you. I'm absolutely fantastic,' she answered with as much nonchalance as she could.

  'I'm glad to hear it. You looked very pale earlier on, but it seems the fresh air has done you some good. It always does with me.'

  Oh shit, and there she had been thinking they had sod-all in common...

  Forcing her face into a smile, which she assumed looked more like the grimace of a deranged woman, and honestly, at this point she was almost sure that one day her mother and younger sisters would drive her over the edge for real, she testily replied: 'Yes, it always works a treat, doesn't it?'

  Darcy took his glass of Whiskey from Charlotte and gulped it down in one, then glanced over his shoulder with a frown. His intuition apparently hadn't failed him. Miss Bingley was fast approaching alongside her companion, of whom Elizabeth still didn't know who she really was, both coming from the direction of the loo, or rather the “toilet”.

  Why most women never ventured to the bathroom alone, was beyond her. Did they need to wipe each other's bottoms or was it just to chat about boys/men? Okay, with Kitty and Lydia the answer was an easy one, but fortunately, they were not the measure of all things.

  'I'll have another one, please. Make it a double,' the man beside her sighed.

  'Trouble in paradise?' Elizabeth could not help asking, though mentally kicking herself for it.

  'Pardon?' Darcy stammered, completely taken aback.

  'Did you quarrel with your girlfriend?' she inquired, slightly inclining her head towards the two women.

  'What? Caroline Bingley?!' the shock on his face was almost comical. 'Oh, no! NO! - Miss whatever-your-name-is. Caroline most certainly isn't my girlfriend, she just has the unfortunate habit of clinging to my arm and seriously, it is no minor feat to get her off of there. I would love to blame it on her shoes, but seeing her approach right now, she seems to do very well even without support. Her mother can hardly keep up with her.'

  'That's her mother?'

  'Yep,' he replied, sounding fairly frustrated.

  'You really don't want to be here, do you?' Elizabeth could not help asking.

  He had almost appeared pleasant only a moment before, but now he was back to his frowning abrasive self.

  Hm, perhaps it really had less to do with her than with the harpy now descending on him, leaving him only to mutter a simple 'Nope!' in reply just before they were close enough to hear.

  'Ah, there you are Fitzwilliam!' Miss Bingley cooed, and the man's face darkened even more.

  Poor sod. Wait, Fitzwilliam? His first name was Fitzwilliam?! Bloody hell, had his parents been drunk when they had named him? Even her mother had managed to give them sensible and timeless names and she was as far from sensible as the moon was from the earth.

  Miss Bingley's gaze fell on Elizabeth and immediately she pouted. Now, duck-face was never a flattering expression, was it?

  'We'll have two glasses of Claret, Miss,' the mother ordered with surprising politeness, then turned to Elizabeth. 'Would you like one as well?'

  Eh, what was going on?

  'Well, um...'

  Smiling sweetly the woman ordered another glass without waiting for a reply. Okay...?

  'I understand you are Jane's sister? Elizabeth, right?' the lady began and suddenly Elizabeth felt stupid for not having realised it immediately that this had little to do with friendliness, but that they wanted to milk her for information such as: What's your sister's profession? What does her family do? Is she a gold-digger? How many boyfriends did she have? Does she suffer from any hereditary diseases? And while we're at it, has she any venereal ones?

  Suppressing the urge to roll her eyes, Elizabeth answered in the affirmative. After all, there was nothing to be ashamed of in running an estate, even though it was just a small one, was there?

  'She's a very dear girl, isn't she?' Caroline threw in, making it sound as if that was somehow despicable.

  'Yes, she is the kindest person I know,' Elizabeth replied truthfully.

  'She sure looks it,' Mrs Bingley took the lead again. 'What does she do? Professionally I mean.'

  There we go, Elizabeth thought wryly, sipping on her wine while noticing from the corner of her eye that Mr Darcy beckoned to Charlotte to refill his glass once again. He either was a drunkard or really desperate to erase his memory and sink into oblivion. Her guess was on the latter.

  'She's a paediatric nurse at Barts in...'

  'Oh, that is some way to drive from here every morning, isn't it? How tedious to have to get up hours before work actually starts. It must be so fatiguing!' Caroline interrupted, while her mother's face had actually softened at that bit of information.

  Perhaps she wasn't so bad after all.

  'Not really. I mean, it would be, but she normally lives in London. Jane has only been here for the harvest, to help around the house and farm.'

  'Oh, your parents have a farm? How charming? Did you hear that Fitzwilliam?'

  Well, there was little doubt that Mr Darcy had heard her. The shrill voices of the two ladies and that of Miss Bingley, in particular, was hard to ignore, even if one was determined to do so. And she was also pretty sure that he had never even come close to a farmyard.

  'I did,' he replied dryly, his meaning obvious.

  'Are you specialised in anything in particul
ar?' he inquired after taking a swig from his glass, and to Elizabeth's great astonishment he sounded sincerely interested.

  'Yes and no. My father doesn't believe in big scale one-sided farming so we have a bit of everything. However, we mainly produce milk. Or rather our cows do. You know these four-legged creatures with the horns and an udder dangling between their hind legs? The one with four teats, if it has only got one it's a bull.'

  Miss Bingley wrinkled her nose as if a whiff of dung had hit her right in the middle of the ballroom, while Darcy, to her astonishment, chuckled: 'You forgot to mention their beautiful trusting brown eyes, Miss.'

  'Well, yes, I did, but then, how could I know you are so into cows that you would know what colour their eyes are? You have to get pretty close to them to lose yourself in them, you know?'

  'Oh, not too close, I hope? I mean with all the dirt on them and aren't they dangerous?' Caroline cried out, looking even more indignant at the mere thought of her champion getting close to such an unsanitary thing as cattle.

  'Not if you know how to handle them. Though with that said, I have to admit that I have met my match in Humphrey. When he sees me, I fear, I have no choice other than to make a run for it.'

  Before Elizabeth could suppress her curiosity and give in to the temptation to ask who Humphrey was, it was relieved by Mrs Bingley: 'Who's Humphrey?'

  'My prized breeding bull,' Darcy replied with a smirk at Elizabeth, who almost choked on another sip of her wine.

  His prized breeding bull?! What the heck?

  'You look surprised,' he stated, still grinning and Elizabeth was suddenly very aware of how bloody handsome he was. Shit!

  'I am, I have to admit. I somehow assumed you live in London.'

  'No, Derbyshire. Born and bred. A country boy through and through.'

  'You should see his estate, Miss...- Bennet, is it?' Caroline Bingley remarked, fluttering her eyelashes at the man who presently ordered himself a glass of water.

  Elizabeth only nodded.

  'Such an impressive place! And the park... - several miles around, I tell you. You know, it has been in his family since basically forever. His aunt is a Lady and his uncle was an actual Earl.'

  'Is,' she was promptly corrected.

  'What?'

  'He still is an Earl. He has neither died nor given up his title.'

  'Oh?!'

  Seemed as if Miss Bingley was not quite as well acquainted to Mr Darcy as she seemed to wish.

  'Well, our pedigree is much more humble, I am afraid,' Elizabeth sighed theatrically while thinking to herself 'What snobs!'.

  'I heard around here Longbourn House Farm is the biggest farm, isn't it?' Darcy inquired. 'How far from here is it?'

  'Yes, it is and it's about two miles, perhaps a bit more,' she answered not without pride only to be rudely interrupted by Caroline, while her mother had stayed silent, looking rather annoyed at present.

  'Oh, but it will hardly compare to Pemberley, Fitzwilliam.'

  The increasingly exasperated mien of Mr Darcy was quite funny to observe. He either didn't like being called by his first name, which she thoroughly understood, or he was simply tired of their conversation. Though, no, when speaking about farming, his face had actually lit up with interest.

  With an almost indiscernible sigh, he answered: 'Of course not. Hertfordshire is much more densely populated than Derbyshire, so it is a matter of course, that the farms are not as expansive. On the other hand though, as far as I am aware, the land is much more arable.'

  Caroline and her mother looked confused, while Elizabeth actually began to warm up to the topic, if only to see them gape at each other helplessly like fish out of water.

  Did Miss Bingley even realise that if she married Mr Darcy, farming would be part of her life, too? The image of that woman in her red nothing with wellies on her feet popped up in her mind and almost made her laugh out loud.

  'Yes, the soil around here is very good. The topsoil has just the right amount of sand in it, to keep the ground moist without it being too wet.'

  'I thought so by what I have seen since coming here. In Derbyshire the ground is very gravely and only very little moisture is retained, limiting the crops one can grow significantly. Wheat is alright, but sometimes it gets too cold for it, while rye is pretty much ideal. Barley also grows well, as do potatoes, but that is pretty much it.'

  Had it been for Elizabeth, she could have carried on with this topic for a while, the alcohol had made a decidedly more pleasant person of this Mr Darcy, but Mrs Bingley soon came back to her initial prerogative, which was questioning her about Jane. Whoohoo! More Tequila needed asap. One sign towards Charlotte and she poured the life-saver. Bless her.

  'You said your sister normally lives in London. Where? It's not exactly a small town, you know?'

  'She has rented a small bedsit from our aunt and uncle in Camberwell.'

  'So South London it is?' Miss Bingley said with some contempt.

  Well, obviously that part of town was too middle class for her.

  'Where do you reside?' Elizabeth could not help asking, putting the emphasis on the last word.

  'Kensington.'

  Of course. Nothing else would do than pretty much the most expensive part of town.

  'If you'll excuse me,' Darcy made the escape Elizabeth dearly wished for, though at least she had her drink. One had to be thankful for the little things in life at times.

  By the by, did she imagine it, or did he seem vexed? More vexed than before that is. And why the hell did she care? It was not as if his company was in any way pleasant. Oh, well, never mind!

  Chapter 4:

  Oh, f***!

  'And Mr Darcy, what do you think of the far-famed Meryton harvest ball?' Caroline asked him as soon as they were seated safely in a cab.

  Of course, she had to come with him instead of going with the rest of her own family. Politeness she had called it. Yeah, right!

  'It was... - interesting.'

  'You mean a complete disaster?'

  'Yes, an interesting one.'

  His mind trailed back to the ball. Though he had initially not wanted to go, he had actually found it quite amusing. The morris dance performance had been hilarious. It had been a long time since he had laughed that hard, though not openly, of course. After all, it had been blatantly obvious that the comic relief had been unintentional, and some of the dancers had needed minor medical attention afterwards. But a little Schadenfreude simply couldn't be avoided, could it?

  Then again, his dancing wasn't any better, if not worse. Now that he thought about it, in retrospect he actually regretted that he had not been able to dance with Miss Bennet, but he had just never bothered to learn the steps. Well, perhaps he should ask his aunt to one day organise a dancing class. It would be the first remotely useful thing to ever be taught at her event seminar.

  'And, have any of the ladies caught your fancy?' Caroline interrupted his musings.

  Gods, why had he only drunken five Whiskeys? If he ever was in need of serious numbing, it was right now. The humming of a dentist's drill was decidedly less nerve-racking than her drawling, high pitched voice.

  'No,' Darcy answered firmly, though he was not quite sure whether that was actually the truth or not.

  When Elizabeth Bennet had asked him to dance and continued to prod him to do so, he had felt only annoyed, for then he had been dangerously close for everyone to discover his one weak spot. But later, when she had stood at the bar downing her Tequilas, a wry grin on her face that spoke of a great amount of good, and sarcastic humour, he had to admit that though her face was flushed in some embarrassment, her eyes had a mischievous sparkle about them that he had found extremely endearing.

  She was clever, there was little doubt about that, for if he was not mistaken, she had looked right through Miss Bingley's and Mrs Hurst's affected friendliness when they had offered her a glass of wine, and he felt fairly proud that he had managed to nip the intended interrogation in its bud by
speaking about farming and was once again surprised by Miss Bennet when he had found her to be quite competent herself.

  And best of all, she had not had the least bit of affectation about her. Really, this girl was quite a puzzle.

  'You are very quiet, Mr Darcy.'

  He thought about gagging her in order to keep her quiet likewise, but that might give her the wrong idea. With Caroline one never knew what tickled her fancy and better be safe than sorry.

  'I'm tired.'

  Hopefully, she would take the hint. - No, apparently not.

  'Well, after all the Whiskey you had, I am not surprised,' she chattered on, grating on his nerves, or rather tearing them to pieces. 'But I admit, the evening was too tedious to survive without a good drink or two.'

  Letting out a slow breath, Darcy refrained from pointing out that the most tedious part for him had been her clinging to his arm like dog poo to a brand-new pair of white trainers. Hard to ignore and most obtrusive in every way.

  He glanced over at her only to catch a glimpse of - oh fuck! - she wasn't even wearing knickers! As if her attire left less than nothing to the imagination anyway. And before he knew it, Caroline smiled seductively, her lips coming ever so much closer and from the corner of his eyes, he could see how her right hand was about to reach between his... -

  Oh, no! No, no, no, definitely not!

  In a rather panicky voice, he gave a strangled cry: 'Driver! Could you please stop for a moment?!'

  Without an answer the man did. Bless him!

  'I just need a bit of fresh air,' Darcy panted ripping open the door pretending to dry-heave, and truth be told, he very nearly did.

  Why, oh why was this woman unable to understand that he was so not into her? Yes, alright, she was pretty, in a very artificial way, but she was also shallow as a puddle, abrasive as sandpaper and about as bright as a 10 Volt light bulb. Okay, perhaps that was a bit exaggerated. Make that 30 Volts then. Still dim enough to be of little use outside a bedroom.

  'I think I'll walk the rest of the way. Here!' Darcy muttered towards the driver through his open window handing him a twenty Pound note. 'Keep the rest.'