“Blast!” Darcy swore as he realized he had already slipped into breaking his first rule.
“Pardon, sir, are you hurt? I do not think I cut you,” responded his valet.
Darcy cleared his throat and closed his eyes again. “You will excuse me, Rogers. I was not speaking to you. Carry on.”
Rule Number Two: no more tender feelings for her. And Rule Number Three: no more undignified behavior. In the past few weeks, as Colonel Fitzwilliam had severely pointed out to him, he had displayed a total want of propriety so frequently, so almost uniformly, as to offend his nearest relations. It would not do.
Rogers made quick work of his toilette and as soon as it was time to dress, Darcy took pains to choose clothing that would accentuate his fine, tall person, handsome features, and noble mien. No more would he disregard his duty to his appearance. His rules determined, and firmly in the forefront of his mind, Darcy dismissed his valet and walked with quick strides into his bedchamber. Whereupon seeing the image before him, promptly forgot both his determination and his rules.
Elizabeth spun around at the sound of the door opening. Her countenance warmed again at seeing him impeccably dressed and staring dumbfounded at her. She turned her back again to him, embarrassment and mortification swelling in her breast again at the unseemly situation in which she found herself.
“This is quite enough! I demand that you rid yourself of my presence immediately, madam!”
Elizabeth gasped in shock at his arrogant speech. Her hands clenched into fists at her side, and she half turned to address him. Her mouth went slack as she witnessed him quickly pull the dressing room door shut behind him. His intent, she presumed, was to keep his valet from witnessing their confrontation. It did not soften her fury at the man. Her embarrassment, however, was still fresh, and she resolutely, and with renewed blushes, turned her back to him again.
“I would most gladly, sir. If you would but allow me to!”
“Indeed! I find that most astonishing; that you would think it is I — ” Darcy’s speech stopped mid-sentence as he realized it was indeed he that kept her there. Whatever happened to The Rules, man? His agitation then presented itself most acutely in the manner in which he began to pace the room. “I have resolved not to think of you. Therefore, you cannot be here.”
“Ha! If only it were that simple. Pray tell, sir, what means of trickery have you employed to keep me here? Is it your intent that I should be compromised?” Elizabeth warmed to her argument. Her accusations came more from the unthinkable situation than from real belief.
Darcy’s head snapped up most succinctly at that, and his stare pierced her. His voice was grave, low and steady, “Those accusations are beneath you, Miss Bennet. And besides, I have already stated that your presence here is not my wish.”
Darcy sighed, dropped his head, and ran his fingers through his wet hair. His voice was different, defeated as he spoke next. “Pray, Miss Bennet, forgive my unpardonable rudeness.”
He then huffed. Why do I care whether I am gentlemanly or offend my own hallucination? ’Tis utter madness! The jostling of his emotions and thoughts had begun to cause his head to ache. Suddenly, he stopped, slid into a chair and looked at her sadly. “Why can I not forget you?”
Elizabeth drew in a shaky breath, and with her exhale went all her fiery hostility. She was hopelessly lost in a world of impossibilities and tethered to the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to accompany with the least degree of pleasure. It seemed neither of them wished for this enforced incarceration. Her emotions raw from the turmoil of the long evening and the bleakness of the situation before her, Elizabeth succumbed gracelessly into a nearby chair and cried.
Her tears drew the gentleman’s attention, and his features softened further. “What foolishness have I stumbled upon that I can draw tears from you in my delusions?”
Before Elizabeth could answer, the door from the dressing room opened and his valet stepped out. “Sir? I heard you speaking. Did you have further need of me?”
Darcy dismissed the man with a wave of his hand, eyes never leaving Elizabeth. “Perhaps, just a glass of water for — ” Darcy stopped himself before idiotically requesting a drink for the imaginary lady in his bedchambers. “Ah, a glass of water please,” he croaked, thankful for the distraction of his valet. His cheeks reddened as their location occurred to him for the first time. Rogers seemed to hesitate as he looked about the bedchamber and then again at his master. Darcy turned to the man with a raised brow.
His face gave nothing away at that moment, and Rogers nodded, bowed, and left, promising a speedy return with the refreshment.
With his man gone, Darcy was once again aware of the intimacy of their location. He could not look at her for the feelings coursing through him. He wished he could say they were all virtuous, but he was more the fool if he thought that having the beautiful, bewitching and beguiling Miss Elizabeth Bennet in his bedchamber would not affect him. I am a bloody buffoon!
“This will not do, Miss Bennet. You are not real, and the sooner I can convince myself of that fact, the sooner I will be free of this lunacy.”
Elizabeth shook her head, her tears forgotten in renewed exasperation at the gentleman. She ventured to look at him then. He sat with an air of feigned calm, one hand cupping his jaw, his fingers covering his mouth as he spoke. It was all quite distracting.
“Sir, I assure you. I am as real as you are.” Her brows lowered as she considered her strange new abilities. “At least, I think I am,” she whispered to herself.
“Ah ha! I heard that.” Darcy sat forward, leaning toward her, his words slow and deliberate as if he was saying them to convince himself rather than her. “See, Miss Elizabeth, you are nothing but a lovely apparition, a product of my imagination. And I assure you that I am most determined to see myself to reason.”
“If I am only part of your delusion, sir, then answer me this: how is it that I can think and act upon my own free will?”
Darcy frowned, stood, and began pacing in meditation. Coming to a conclusion, he thus answered her, his hands moving about as he spoke through his reasoning, “Disguise of every sort is abhorrent to me, Miss Elizabeth. Therefore, my mind would not create the object of my admiration to be other than that which she is. Thus, your impertinence is to know no bounds and obviously my insanity likewise.” Darcy was only half satisfied with that answer as it gave further proof to the disintegration of his faculties.
Elizabeth’s heart began to beat unsteadily at hearing him call her the object of his admiration. Much to her dismay, the idea settled most stubbornly in the proximity of that traitorously beating organ. Still, she wished to dismiss and hide the effect of his words and so answered him laughingly, sarcasm giving tone to her words and helping to dispel the flushed feelings his words had induced.
“My beauty you had early withstood, and as for my manners — my behavior to you was at least always bordering on the uncivil, and I never spoke to you without rather wishing to give you pain than not. Now be sincere; do you admire me for my impertinence?”
The sides of his lips twitched slightly in a smile. His eyes danced with humor and captured her in that stern gaze he had always bestowed upon her in the past. There, in the most improper and intimate setting in which she found herself with the gentleman, Elizabeth began to see his stare in a new light. It was both alarming and invigorating.
“For the liveliness of your mind, I do.”
Rogers at that moment chose to return and after giving Mr. Darcy a glass of water, quickly retreated again. The pause in conversation required for such a disturbance, brought both parties quickly back to the grim matter at hand.
“Mr. Darcy, I feel we must be serious, for a solution must be found. I cannot live under such restrictions, and it is highly improper besides. If it is as you say, you — or rather your mind — are in control of this quandary, then I demand that you release me.”
“Would that I could, madam, believe me. What are these r
estrictions you speak of?”
Elizabeth rolled her eyes in a very unladylike manner. “Obviously, I refer to the limits of how far I may venture from you.”
“Do you mean to tell me that you cannot leave my side?”
“I would not be in your bedchamber otherwise, sir!” Elizabeth’s cheeks heated once again, and she turned her head sharply away.
Darcy was silent for a moment as he contemplated her words. He purposely walked the distance to the far side of his chambers, his eyes going wide when he saw Elizabeth being towed along behind him.
“Fascinating. It would seem my journey to Bedlam knows no limits.” And with that, he walked the other direction, once again pulling her along after a certain distance. He then laughed in an agitated manner.
Elizabeth crossed her arms when his strides began to again traverse the room. “Are you quite finished, sir?”
Darcy stopped, sighed and said, “I fear this is just another bit of proof that you have been manufactured by me; your very existence requires me.”
Elizabeth wanted to argue with him. She wanted to restate how real she knew she was. Yet she could not explain why she was there any better than he could. Her only argument lay in knowing her own thoughts, and at that moment, her thoughts were turning towards home. I just want to go home. Oh, how I miss my family. Elizabeth sighed sadly and looked upon her unwanted anchor. She knew she should be sensible to the great compliment such a man’s admiration meant, but at this time, she could not. He was still arrogant and presumptuous, all the while declaring his responsibility for their situation and disregarding her protests. It was simply too much. There was some reason their lives were intertwined in this way. And just like that, the butterfly of a thought fluttered in her mind again, but it was gone just as quickly.
Resigned, Elizabeth spoke. “What is it you presume to do?”
Darcy walked towards her then and she felt his closeness in a not unpleasant way. She swallowed the sensation and lifted her chin to him, hiding her beating heart with a disguised facade.
His eyes washed across her face as he readied himself for what he knew he must do. He must endeavor to keep Rule Number One and not think of her. If he could ignore her presence, then she would go away.
“Most assuredly, I must not think of you anymore. It is this fixation I have developed that has brought you about, and so I will not acknowledge your presence. From now on, you are not here, Miss Elizabeth. I cannot see you or hear you.”
Elizabeth tried not to laugh, but she could not help it then. Her hilarity increased when she saw his countenance turn to a scowl as his stride took him to this bedchamber door.
“That is your plan, sir? Forgive me if I do not have faith in its success.”
She barely held her laughter at bay when she saw that he was determined to ignore her comments, and yet she saw his shoulders straighten with that same resolve.
“Well, by all means, carry on, sir.” She giggled at her own wit as she said, “Pray, do not mind me.”
Elizabeth then sat back, amused at his dogged willpower while he propelled her through the house once more at purposeful pace.
* * *
Mrs. Hill knocked on the bedchamber door and opened it to find Jane and Mr. Bennet together with Elizabeth. Smiling tentatively, she spoke gently. “Mr. Jones is here to evaluate Miss Lizzy again, sir.”
Mr. Bennet woke from his troubled thoughts and turned to his housekeeper. “Very good, you may see him up, Hill.”
A few minutes later, the doctor entered the bedchamber and greeted the occupants. “How did she fair the night, sir?”
“She did not wake if that is what you ask. At one point I worried she might have developed a fever as her cheeks became flushed.” Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Jane gasp as she heard this report, for he had not wanted to add to her worry. He quickly went on. “However, when I felt her head, she was not feverish at all.”
“Well, I will say that is good news. It means our patient is healing.”
Everyone looked at Elizabeth then, only to see she was scarlet once again.
Jane rushed to Elizabeth’s side and felt her head, “Oh, look she is flushed again. Mr. Jones, do you think she could be getting feverish this time? Just look at her, Papa, she is quite red!”
The doctor quickly went to examine Elizabeth but, upon feeling no sign of undue heat, declared she seemed in no danger. “Though it puzzles me why she would have these moments of redness infuse her cheeks.”
“It is almost as if she is blushing,” Mr. Bennet observed.
“Indeed, I think you describe it accurately, sir,” Mr. Jones affirmed.
Mr. Bennet watched as the glow on her cheeks intensified, giving her face a vivacity that had heretofore been missing. It strengthened his hope that that she was not lost to them. Intrigued still, he thought, Of what are you dreaming, my Lizzy, to make you blush so?
Chapter 6
With an amused smile dancing about the edges of her mouth, Elizabeth glided comfortably behind Darcy as he again made his way through his house. Although she could see he was determined to ignore her existence, a fact that diverted her greatly, she could also tell that, indeed, he was having quite a difficult time of it. She detected the slight constriction in the muscles of his neck and shoulders when, along the route, her laughter rang out to him.
“Do slow down, sir,” Elizabeth said with mischief. “I see no cause for such haste. There are several of these paintings I should like to look upon.”
She knew he would not acknowledge her words, and yet she was further pleased to note that his pace did slow slightly. Indeed, however much her statement had been made in jest, Elizabeth found that she was in actuality wishing for some kind of object to fix her attention on for any length of time. Being propelled along this way made it altogether too easy to fix her attention upon the man himself and his broad, strong shoulders. As she did so, she also observed his denial was fragile at best.
This unexpected admiration of his fine figure caused her no small disconcertion. She did not want to acknowledge any attraction for the gentleman, for that proved too close to approval. She tried instead to focus all her attention on provoking him by any means. Doing so seemed to serve two purposes in her mind: it would get him past this stubborn refutation of their situation so they could discover how to break the bond that had forged between them; and second, it helped to divert her mind from those dangerous feelings. The latter seemed more pressing to Elizabeth the longer she was fixed to his presence.
How aggravating it seemed that she should be stuck with such a man. His behavior had always been most irregular. From the beginning, he was arrogant and aloof. When next in his presence, he had begun to scrutinize her in a most disturbing manner; she presumed always looking to find fault. And as their acquaintance lengthened, he convinced her of his disagreeable nature to such an extent that it was not a month after they met, she decided he was the last man in the world she could ever be prevailed upon to marry. Marry? I . . . absurd! Elizabeth shuddered and shook her head to dispel the shocking thought. It was proof that her continued captivity with him was addling her wits. Perhaps we both have gone mad!
More shocking still, Elizabeth mused, as he continued to lead her along the corridors of his house, he seemed to have developed a preference for her. It was an inclination and admiration that both flattered and stunned her. It was also a change in him that Elizabeth did not wish to dwell on, for she could not be ignorant of the compliment of having garnered the affections of such a man. And she was certain that his good opinion had not been in existence in Hertfordshire. Indeed, he was most disagreeable to her there. He argued and debated with her almost constantly, eavesdropped on her conversations with others and pierced her with his dark eyes nearly every time they were in company together. For heaven’s sake! He argued with me during our dance at the Netherfield ball! Yet she could not deny the things he had said to her here. Since she could not yet acquit her mind of the notion that this was
not the most agonizing and enchanting dream she had ever experienced, the only plausible explanation was that the recesses of her mind were responsible for coming up with this fantastical scenario. That alone caused Elizabeth to shudder with acute discomfort. For why her mind would wish to dwell so severely on such a man was not a question Elizabeth cared to know the answer to at present.
At length, Elizabeth discerned that the pull upon her had slowed considerably and she was coming to a stop. Thankful for the new distraction from her thoughts, she allowed her eyes to take in her location. She was in a large foyer with warm, rich wood moldings and cream colored silk wall dressings. The shimmering light from the candles of the wall sconces against the early morning light flickered their glow around the quiet, elegant space. Elizabeth could now detect the delicious aromas of breads, eggs, and other breakfast sundries nearby.
Ahead of her, Darcy stood with his back to her before a set of double doors. His stance was eerily fixed as if he was waiting for something to happen. Elizabeth looked about her and did not see any servants to open the door. That was her first presumption to explain his pause before entering the room before him. It occurred to her then, as a smile crept about her features, that he was much too still for any ordinary setting. Indeed, she saw that the hands at his side were engaged in a feverish rubbing of the fingers. With growing amusement, Elizabeth realized that she had been silent during her earlier ruminations and now as she looked upon Mr. Darcy, she saw that his head was tilted to the side slightly as if he was listening for some sound — for her. She crossed her arms in front of her and waited. She knew it would only be a matter of time before the gentleman gave in to the temptation to see whether she had disappeared and thus contented herself with a smug look of satisfaction.
Haunting Mr. Darcy Page 6