by Ola Wegner
After a few walks across the countryside with Georgiana, listening to her and asking questions, Elizabeth had developed a healthy dose of respect for Fitzwilliam Darcy. In some ways, it even began to flatter her that he had chosen her, Elizabeth Bennet, as his wife. Moreover, she understood better now why he was often so hard on the edges, serious and sober.
There were still two matters which she held against him; Jane and Bingley was one, and his general attitude towards her family and neighbours, the other. His behaviour could be called, at best, unsocial, but in truth, he was simply plain rude most of the time, this evening being a prime example. Even when he did talk to someone, he found it necessary to show his condescending superiority at every word and gesture. He was kind only when he spoke to her.
Elizabeth was determined not to delay their conversation about Jane any longer, though she was aware it would not be a pleasant talk. As they were never truly alone these days, Elizabeth thought the best way to find some privacy would be ask him to meet her early in the morning in some secluded place.
The sound of Kitty and Lydia’s laughter drew her attention; the girls had missed their steps and bumped into each other. A loud, longing sigh escaped her.
Instantly, she felt his warm, big hand on the small of her back. “Tired, love?” he asked, so quietly that only she could hear.
“I wanted to dance this dance.”
There was a long silence, and his hand on her back stilled. “Do you not find it a bit childish?”
“No, I do not. I like to dance,” she argued. “You do not want to ask me, and no other men will do it because you are standing here like a hawk,” she added grudgingly.
His warm hand began stroking her back, up and down, from the uncovered skin of her shoulder blades to the base of her spine. “You might have told me you wanted to dance.”
She shrugged and said nothing.
Without a word, Darcy wrapped her hand around his arm and led them across the room to the corner where Mrs. Bennet sat together with her sister, Mrs. Philips.
He bowed. “Miss Elizabeth is in a need of fresh air. We will walk out on the terrace for a moment.” he announced, and without waiting for an answer, walked away.
“Will you tell me what is bothering you tonight?” he asked when they were outside.
She set her lips in a tight line, afraid to say too much at once, knowing it was neither the time, nor place for it.
He waited for her to answer, and when she did not, he pulled her to him, wrapping his arms tightly around her. She relaxed after a moment and allowed him to cradle her.
When she felt calmed enough, she raised her head from his chest. “Will you come tomorrow to the grove by the pond, the one I showed to Georgiana the other day?”
He searched her eyes. “Ah, yes.” he frowned, “You wanted to discuss something, but there has been no opportunity so far.”
She nodded. “At dawn?”
“As you wish, I will be there.”
He lowered his head, and kissed her gently, a light caress. She closed her eyes and allowed her head to rest back on his solid chest. It felt good to stand here, in his embrace, breathing the clear night air.
A few short minutes later, she heard her mother’s voice. “Lizzy? Where are you? Lizzy?”
Elizabeth stiffened instantly and stepped away. She hoped her mother had not seen too much, as it was dark on the terrace.
“Yes, Mama.” She cleared her throat, “We are here.”
“Ah,” Mrs. Bennet came from the shadows. “Here you are, Lizzy.”
The woman glanced at Darcy wearily, before placing her eyes on her daughter. “I think we should go now.” she said slowly.
“So early, Mama?” It was unusual of Mrs. Bennet to want to leave any party before others.
“Yeees.” the woman drawled, “I think that we are all tired tonight.”
“I will go call the carriage,” Darcy said formally and left the terrace.
Mrs. Bennet waited till he was gone and whispered. “Lizzy, are you well?”
Elizabeth was more than taken aback by the question. “Yes, Mama.”
The older woman hesitated. “I know he is rich, daughte,r but so... unwelcoming at the same time. Does he treat you right?”
Elizabeth’s heart melted. She knew how much her mother desired this match, and still she worried about her happiness. “Yes, Mama. You cannot imagine how kind he is when we are all alone. He does not enjoy large gatherings, like this, that is all.”
The woman nodded. “Yes, of course, your father does not like them either. Well, let us return, it is getting cold here.”
As they stepped inside, Mrs. Bennet added. “Perhaps Mr. Collins would have been better for you, Lizzy. Not so smart, perhaps, or rich, but certainly less... less...” the woman could not find the word.
Rude, condescending, arrogant. Elizabeth finished in her thoughts.
“All is well, Mama,” Elizabeth ensured. “Do not worry.”
Mrs. Bennet shook her head. “I do not, Lizzy. I do not.”
***
Darcy endured a mostly sleepless night. Elizabeth was so determined to talk with him in private. He knew that something was bothering her, and he was becoming more and more apprehensive about the reason for her anxiety.
He chose to go on horseback and saw her long before she could see him, already waiting for him.
She stood with her back to him, staring into the mirror of the water, the early morning mist surrounding her. He tried to approach her very quietly, but she turned as she heard the horse’s neigh.
Her eyes widened and she took a step back.
“Come,” he held out his hand, “let us go from here.”
Her eyes widened. “On horseback?”
“Yes.”
She stared at the horse. “I do not ride.”
“I will ride. You will sit in front of me.”
She shook her head. “I prefer to stay here. On my feet.” She stressed.
He smirked. “You are afraid.”
“No, I am not.” She glanced at the animal, who was interested in her person and tried to sniff her. “I just do not see the reason why...”
She did not finish, as he moved the horse a few steps forward, leaned down and picked her up by the waist, in one swift move, putting her before him.
“No!” she cried, her eyes terrified for a moment as she looked down.
She clung to him, her hands wrapped around his neck with such force that she might strangle him.
“Easy,” he crooned.
He kicked the horse into the slowest of gaits, and gradually she relaxed.
“Do you always have to do as you wish?” she asked grudgingly after a moment. He helped her arrange herself with her back to his chest, holding her securely to him with his arm around her middle so she could feel safe.
“I only think that you can admire the countryside much better from the top of the horse rather than from a five foot perspective.”
As he expected, she gasped in offended dignity, “I am five foot two inches.”
“Just enjoy,” he said and put the horse into faster motion, “Look around.”
She listened to him, and for the rest of the ride, she was quiet, her bonnet in front of him, moving in all directions. They reached the top of Oakham Mount soon. Darcy dismounted first and reached for her.
“It was not that bad, was it?” he asked when her feet touched the steady ground.
“No, it was not,” she admitted.
He walked the horse to a grassy spot and left him there to feed.
She turned to him and spoke without preamble. “I received a letter from my aunt, Mrs. Gardiner.”
“The one who was brought up in Lambton?”
“Yes, the same one. She and my uncle plan a trip to the lakes this summer, and they invited me to join them.”
Darcy felt as if a great weight was lifted off his chest. That is all? From her previous tone and her pleas for an earnest conversation, he had thou
ght that the matter was serious indeed, not just a summer trip with the relatives.
“Would you like to go?” he asked smilingly, pleased that she found it necessary to consult with him regarding her future plans, asking his permission.
“Very much, it has been my dream for a long time to see that part of the country.”
He pulled her closer, “I will take you there once we are married then. Understandably, you should accept the invitation, on one condition though...” he paused, “You must convince your aunt and uncle to stay at Pemberley for at least a week.”
She looked shocked. “You would invite them?”
Darcy nodded, thinking that those Gardiners could not be entirely bad. Elizabeth often mentioned them with admiration, praised their good taste and their love for books and the theatre. Yes, Pemberley would have to survive the tradesmen if it meant having Elizabeth there too. “I will write a letter with a personal invitation for them, which you can enclose with your correspondence.”
Her mouth curled in a smile, her eyes sparkling. “Oh, thank you!” she jumped up into his arms, her arms wrapping around his neck. “Thank you so much!”
He picked her up, holding her tightly, her feet dangling in the air. From all the gifts he had given her so far, he had never received such an enthusiastic reaction as now, inviting her relatives to his home.
“I would have to return to Pemberley for the summer anyway,” he said as he put her down, “So this trip is very accommodating to all of us.”
“I will write yet today,” she promised.
“Good.” he leaned forward, hoping for a kiss, but she pushed away from him. “There is another matter we need to discuss.”
He put a welcoming expression on his face. “Yes.”
She took a deep breath and spoke solemnly. “Have you told Mr. Bingley about our understanding? Does he know you are here?”
All the pleasantness was wiped away from Darcy’s face. “No, he does not know.”
She searched his face for a long moment. “I know it was you who separated Jane and Mr. Bingley.”
Darcy froze. “How do you know about that?”
“Last autumn, I noticed the disapproving looks you directed many times at Jane when she danced or talked with Mr. Bingley. When the entire company left Netherfield so abruptly, I suspected that you had intervened in some way, but I was not entirely sure. In Kent, Colonel Fitzwilliam confirmed my suspicions accidentally. He did not know he was speaking of my sister when he mentioned to me how good a friend of Mr. Bingley you were by rescuing him from a most unfortunate marriage to a woman from a most unsuitable family.”
Darcy felt his throat tighten. He knew how much Elizabeth loved and cared for her elder sister. Damn Richard and his big mouth.
“Do you deny it?” she asked.
Darcy braced himself inside. “No, I cannot deny it. I observed you sister most carefully, and she seemed to welcome his advances but stayed indifferent and demure, not showing any real affection, which convinced me she did not love Bingley. I did everything in my power to separate them, and at the time I rejoiced in my success. Towards him I have been kinder than towards myself.” he murmured the last sentence.
Only as he spoke the last sentence, did he realize how it must have sounded to her ears.
She lowered her eyes to the ground for a long minute, and when she eventually did look at him with all the hurt and pain, he wished she had not. Her beautiful eyes were full of tears, her pale face washed out, as if someone had slapped her.
She turned from him and started to walk.
“No, Elizabeth, wait!” he cried. “I did not mean it the way that sounded.” He caught her arm, stopping her in place for a moment, but she freed herself from his embrace and started to run. His height and long legs gave him an advantage, and he caught up to her soon. “Please, I did not mean to say that.” He grounded her in place, “I am ready to overlook your low connections, the impropriety of your family’s behaviour, everything. You are worth it. I know you are not like your family. You are so much better.” He was breathing harshly, his hands on her, trying to bring her closer to him.
“Do not touch me.” she said evenly and waited till he took his hands off her. “Who do you think you are?” she called, “You consider your family better than mine. They have more money, and that is the only difference between our families. My cousins do not keep mistresses, and neither of my aunts is so stupid, egocentric and ill behaved as Lady Catherine.” she paused, striving to calm herself. “My sister loved Mr. Bingley and has been heartbroken for months because of your selfishness and disdain for the feelings of others.” She took a step closer and cried into his face, her hands clenched into fists, “You are rude, conceited and arrogant! Certainly, you are not the gentleman you think yourself to be.”
As Darcy was digesting the assessment of his character, Elizabeth turned on her feet, and in her agitated state, she mistook a step, hooked her foot around a protruding root, and fell flat on the ground.
He was beside her before she could manage to lift herself to her arms and knees. “Elizabeth, are you well?”
“Fine.” she muttered, as he turned her on her back.
His eyes crawled over her body, hands touching, checking for injuries.
She sat up and touched her head. Then she attempted to stand up, but when her right foot touched the ground, she hissed. “My ankle!” She moved her weight on the other side and hissed again. “My knee...”
His arm went around her waist, keeping her in a standing position. Her face was twisted in pain, so he picked her up into his arms and carried her to the fallen trunk.
“Thoughtless, stupid...,” she was murmuring under her breath.
“Who, me?” Darcy asked, as he sat her down.
“No, I!” she cried angrily, “To fall down like that, to trip over my own feet.”
“Now, now, it could happen to anyone,” he soothed, lifting the hem of her dress.
“Which ankle is it?” he asked.
Elizabeth pointed to the injured one, and he removed her sturdy leather shoe to examine it.
“Ouch!” she cried out when he pressed harder.
“It is twisted, I am afraid.”
“My knee hurts more...,” she betrayed.
He tried to push the mass of petticoats higher, but she stopped him. “You cannot...”
He glanced at her. “What?”
“You should not... look there,” she glanced down at her lap.
“Should not see your legs? Has it not occurred to you that I will see them eventually one day?” he flipped her petticoats over her knees, exposing white stockings, and a few inches of naked thighs, visible above the garters. There was a bloody mark on the left knee.
He loosened the garter and pushed the stocking down. There was a tiny stream of blood coming from the small cut. He was so concentrated on checking the degree of her injury that he did not even feel excited with the fact he had his hands under her skirts for the first time.
“When you tripped, twisting your ankle, you must have hit your knee over a stone here, hard enough that it broke the skin even through the layers of your clothing.” He touched the skin around the cut, which was slowly changing colour into deep purple. “I do not like the sight of it. Knee injuries can be nasty and difficult to heal completely.”
Elizabeth pushed his hands away and covered herself. “I shall be fine.”
“I doubt it.”
He stood up and reached to pick her up, but she slapped his hands.
She frowned. “I do not want your help.”
“Elizabeth, do not be childish,” he tried to sound patient. “You cannot walk on your own.”
She lifted her chin high in the air and announced. “I will wait till someone comes passing by.”
Darcy did not reply, only walked to his horse and brought it closer.
“I am taking you to Longbourn, and then I will fetch a doctor.” He picked her up unceremoniously.
She attempte
d to struggle out of his iron embrace. “I do not need one.”
He ignored her and lifted her up on the horse , which, as he expected, silenced her instantly. A second later, he was in the saddle behind her.
“Now, hold on,” he said, bringing her closer to himself and kicking the horse into a fast gait.
Chapter Eleven
“Good morning, Miss Elizabeth,” the old physician, Mr. Aiken, said as he entered Elizabeth and Jane’s bedroom.
“Good morning,” Elizabeth smiled, sitting on her bed, propped against the many pillows.
Darcy stood on the left side of her bed, the spot he had not left since he had carried her upstairs.
“What must I do with this girl?” Mrs. Bennet exclaimed from behind the man’s back. “I had thought that she would calm herself now, when she is almost engaged, but no! She wants to put me into an early grave. She is to become a wife and mother, the mistress of a grand estate, not climbing the trees like a naughty boy.”
“I was not climbing anything today, Mama,” Elizabeth protested.
“Oh, do be quiet, you wild girl!” Mrs. Bennet cried in anger, “What will Mr. Darcy think of you now? What if he does not take you, knowing your wild, wild ways? What if you killed yourself falling off that tree?” she took a calming breath and added weakly, “You have no compassion for my poor nerves.”
“It was not a tree, Mama!” Elizabeth spoke, her voice rapidly losing its patient tone.
Mr. Aiken turned to the older woman. “Now, now, Mrs. Bennet. No, need to exert yourself so.” He walked her to the chair. “I can already see that there is no danger to Miss Elizabeth’s life.”
He returned to Elizabeth, leaving Mrs. Bennet fanning herself with her handkerchief, and asked her good humouredly, “What did you break this time, Miss Lizzy?”
Elizabeth presented a toothy smile at the physician’s expression and then murmured. “I just twisted my ankle.”