One Autumn with Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Anthology

by Fairbanks,Rose

  Darcy was growing alarmed. He had no desire to return to the area. “Are you certain you wish to host such a large party again so soon? You hosted a ball just over a week ago. You would not want to overexert yourself or Miss Bingley.”

  Bingley’s brow furrowed and then his face lit up in amusement. “I am certain Caroline would perform any task to impress the Master of Pemberley.”

  Darcy groaned and walked to the sideboard to refresh his port. “Did you not already accept the invitation to Lady Tennyson’s ball?”

  “Yes. Caroline is desperate for me to meet Lady Tennyson’s niece, Miss Howe, again.”

  “She is quite lovely and has a good portion.”

  “Her hair is too dark.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I believe you admired her hair and more in August.”

  “And her eyes are too small unlike...”

  Bingley did not need to continue, and Darcy took a large sip. Blast the Bennet sisters and their eyes! The eldest had very large and perfectly blue eyes. Elizabeth had the most expressive and intelligent eyes Darcy had ever seen, a beautiful shade of brown that could turn nearly emerald green as well. Even the youngest daughters and the mother had a special twinkle in their eye. Yes! That was an important recollection—the younger sisters and the mother!

  “Bingley, I know you are quite attracted to Miss Bennet, but you did promise to use this time in Town to consider other ladies and all the consequences.” Darcy had privately vowed to do the same.

  “Yes, I know. But what is consequence to affection?”

  Darcy took another gulp of his drink and then decided to refill his glass and offer more to Bingley.

  “The match would be lacking in all important ways.”

  “It is just like you to think money and connections are all that matter.” Bingley appeared to be teasing, but Darcy still felt a bit offended.

  “I do not mean only money and connections. You desire affection, perhaps even love, but you will not gain that with Miss Bennet.”

  Bingley looked sharply at Darcy. “What do you mean?”

  “Her heart is not easily touched.”

  “She enjoyed my attentions!”

  “She has a very easy way with everyone, quite a serene countenance. Do you truly believe she treated you differently than others?”

  “I cannot believe her to wilfully deceive me.”

  “Did she declare sentiments?” Darcy was aghast at the idea. He had thought at least Miss Bennet and Elizabeth capable of proper behaviour.

  “No, but surely she could see my intentions, and she made no move to discourage me.”

  “You are very amiable. She most likely thought you were engaging in an idle flirtation while visiting the area.”

  “You do not believe she has expectations of me?”

  “Have any of the others?”

  Bingley looked sheepishly at him. “I...no, their feelings were never attached, as you well know after this summer.”

  “And did Miss Bennet truly seem different than the other ladies?”

  Bingley looked from the glass in his hands to Darcy’s face and back to his glass. “I think you had better pour me another glass.”

  *****

  6 pm

  “She never loved me. None of them have,” Bingley bemoaned and sloshed the wine in his glass.

  “You are quite young and so amiable you cannot see those who would scheme against you.”

  “I ought to be more like you. Or how you used to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since we have returned from Hertfordshire you have danced nearly every dance at every soiree, accepted every dinner invitation, and talked with many ladies at each outing. Everyone is full of gossip that you mean to finally take a wife!”

  Darcy grimaced. The last thing he needed now was London’s gossips after him. His friend laughed at his scowl.

  “Well, so it was until three nights ago. Then, you only danced half the evening and wanted to leave early, and have refused to go anywhere since. What has happened?”

  Darcy sighed. “Nothing has happened. I have agreed to go to the next ball with you.” He motioned toward the billiards table, “Please, let us enjoy our game. More port?”

  *****

  7 pm

  “I’m a catch aren’t I, Darcy?” Bingley asked bleary-eyed.

  “Of course,” Darcy replied, quite a bit more in command of his faculties.

  “Not like you, though.”

  “What?”

  “Pemberley! You’ve got Pemberley!”

  “Yes...too many want me for my estate.”

  “And your uncle, an earl!”

  “You are a fine catch, Bingley.”

  He grunted. “And I’ll prove it at Lady Tenley...Tenson...”

  “Tennyson.”

  “Lady Tennyson’s ball. I’ll be irresistible.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And you too. Maybe Lady Elizabeth Harkin for you?”

  Darcy scowled at the name. No Elizabeths. And she was blonde. “No.”

  “Your cousin Miss de Bourgh then?”

  Darcy choked on his port. “Good G-d, no!”

  “What do you want then? More money? Ties to the royal family?” Bingley laughed and then snorted, causing him to laugh all the more. “I know, love!”

  Without thought, Darcy whispered quietly to himself, “No. I will never find love again.” He peered at his glass with distrust. Where had this sudden understanding come from?

  Bingley had not heard Darcy speak over his own laughter. “What did you say?”

  “I will never marry for love.”

  “Right. Too silly for you. We must be dignified. We must not laugh.” Bingley tried to affect Darcy’s scowl. “No more love for me! No more angels!”

  Sighing, Bingley laid his glass aside. “I’m off to bed while I can walk up the stairs.”

  “Are you certain? It is still very early.”

  “Yes, but I have had little rest in over a week.”

  Darcy only grunted as his friend exited. Willing the voice in his head taunting him with declarations of love for Elizabeth Bennet to silence, he drank another glass of port before an idea of sheer genius struck him. Ten nights with little sleep plagued his ability to think clearly. Then, in a flash of inspiration, THE plan came to him. Writing a letter of sorts to Elizabeth, confessing his affections would clear them from his mind. He would even keep the letter to remind himself of all the reasons he could never marry Elizabeth Bennet.

  *****

  The following morning, as he finally comprehended where this ultimate, brilliant plan had led, Darcy ruminated on all the plans that had inexorably brought him to this impasse. Darcy had always firmly believed in planning, it was part of his very essence. He knew how to make arrangements and carry them through with authority.

  He planned to merely advise his friend, Bingley, on his leased estate in Hertfordshire and recover from his troubles of the summer. He soon realized his budding attraction for an impertinent country miss and so he planned to keep his distance. But when he was thrust into her company against his will, he sought to find fault with her. And when he found her entirely charming and bewitching, he schemed to leave the country forthwith.

  Upon noticing Bingley’s attachment to the very lady’s sister, and not perceiving the affection reciprocated, he planned to extricate his friend. He even realized the plot held the added benefit of never again needing to face Elizabeth’s fine, captivating eyes. Bingley would give up the lease and never marry a Bennet. Darcy need never visit Hertfordshire again, need never come into Elizabeth’s company on a visit to his friend’s estate, nor see her in Town as Bingley’s new sister. Yes, it was a succession of very well-considered, if increasingly desperate, stratagems.

  Darcy shook his head again. He should have realized it could come to this when things went decidedly against his plans. He did not plan to admire the young lady whose beauty he had early withstood, whose manners were not fa
shionable, and who had connections in trade and the most vulgar family in the kingdom. He most certainly did not plan to fall in love with her. He should not have been surprised that, after leaving Hertfordshire, he could not cast out Elizabeth’s teasing words and lovely face from his mind. He never planned to think of her day and night with increasing levels of distraction—even with a distance of twenty miles and the passage of ten days between them.

  Before he met Elizabeth, Darcy could not remember the last time he was able to admire a lady as more than a dance or dinner partner. At this point, he could scarcely recall another lady’s name. He should have known better than to assume his plans regarding Elizabeth Bennet could ever succeed; Elizabeth’s appeal defied logic!

  Yesterday due to the tension of feigning disinterest for several hours, and a bit more drink than usual combined with a severe lack of sleep, he was impressed with the prudence of his next scheme—writing Elizabeth a letter declaring both his love for her and all the reasons why it was impossible to ask for her hand would surely banish her from his thoughts.

  Upon completion, instead of burning it, he planned to keep it to remind himself of his resolve. He immediately left the library and ignored the unease he felt over his decision. He would keep to his resolve. He had hoped writing the letter would give him instant peace, but he was confident reading the words again on the morrow would be beneficial. Although he retired to his chambers, sleep did not come easily. It was not until waking that morning that he realized he had a nagging fear that he sealed the unblemished final draft and addressed it out of habit. And now it was missing from his desk, clearly having been sent with last night’s mail.

  Now came the culmination of all his designs. There was nothing to be done for but write an express to Mr. Bennet, travel to Hertfordshire and initiate plans to marry Elizabeth Bennet. Her reputation would be damaged by his letter, and he was nothing if not honourable.

  Darcy leant forward, rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his palms. He took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled and brought his head up. He could not help the broad smile from appearing on his face. He was to marry Elizabeth Bennet!

  *****

  Monday, December 9, 1811

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  6 pm

  Elizabeth returned to the house from an exhausting late afternoon walk after dinner. Several days ago Jane received Miss Bingley’s note announcing the departure of the entire Netherfield party. Elizabeth argued at the time that Mr. Bingley could be no less sensible of his love for Jane or somehow in his sister’s power to believe himself in love with Miss Darcy instead. Now, she began to wonder.

  Elizabeth had based her remarks on the belief that Mr. Bingley was a man of independent means and thoughts, but now she recollected more about his character. He did have such an easiness of temper and want of resolution. Was he really so willing to sacrifice his own happiness? Had his regard for Jane died away? Or had he not noticed her attachment to him?

  She sought out Jane and found her misty-eyed in their bedchamber, seeking refuge from their mother’s constant prattle bemoaning Mr. Bingley’s sudden departure and hoping for his eventual return.

  Elizabeth began to abuse Mr. Bingley’s inconstancy when Jane interrupted her. “I have nothing to reproach him with. He is the most amiable gentleman I have ever known but he will be forgot. My pain cannot last long.”

  “You are too good!” Elizabeth rejoined, but when Jane tried to compliment Elizabeth as well, the latter would not allow it. “There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it; and every day confirms my belief of the inconsistency of all human characters, and of the little dependence that can be placed on the appearance of merit or sense.”

  “I cannot believe I have been intentionally injured. Mr. Bingley is such a lively young man; his manners give the impression of more favouritism than he holds. It was nothing but my own vanity which believed admiration to be more than it was.”

  “Most women believe admiration to mean more than it does, and men take care that they should.”

  “How can you expect a man to know a woman’s hopes and fears? If men design to inspire such regard in a woman it cannot be justified, but unlike you I do not think so meanly of the world.”

  “I can agree to an extent. I cannot believe Mr. Bingley to have meant to raise your hopes, but there may still be misery without scheming. Some are thoughtless, some pay no attention to other people’s feelings, and still others are too pliable.”

  “And which do you impute to Mr. Bingley?”

  “Oh, definitely the last.”

  Fortunately, Jane did not inquire why Elizabeth felt the need to even mention the other two trespasses. Elizabeth left Jane and allowed herself to think on the matter as was her wont.

  *****

  8 pm

  “But why has Mr. Bingley not returned?” Mrs. Bennet cried as the ladies sat in the drawing room.

  Jane tensed and Elizabeth, sitting beside her, intervened. “The note from Miss Bingley suggested the business he left on might take quite some time to complete. It is not for us to know his life or to demand his time. We cannot expect so amiable a young man to find pleasure in our company alone.”

  Mrs. Bennet sighed. “He is so very amiable. Not like his disagreeable friend!”

  “Wickham told the most dreadful tale about Mr. Darcy!” Lydia crowed and proceeded to tell of Mr. Darcy denying the handsome and amiable officer a valuable living.

  Elizabeth understood that now that the Netherfield party had left the area, Wickham felt at ease to spread the tale of Mr. Darcy’s true character, which slightly unsettled Elizabeth. However, recalling Wickham’s words on the matter and his intelligence of Miss Darcy as a very proud sort of girl, Elizabeth found herself exceedingly vexed at Mr. Bingley. If he were so ungrateful as to throw off Jane’s love for a disagreeable girl with money and great connection, then Elizabeth found herself believing he would deserve whatever misery befell him. Yet, she balked at the idea of him being truly so inconstant, and, considering that two sisters could have little sway over a man, Elizabeth determined most of the blame must lie with Mr. Darcy.

  Her mother’s wails continued on the subject, compounded with her anger at Elizabeth for rejecting Mr. Collins’ proposal and the resulting calamity that would now befall them all when Mr. Bennet died and the new, and hateful, mistress, the current Charlotte Lucas, would cast them out.

  *****

  11 pm

  The rest of the house had gone to bed, but Elizabeth could not sleep. As was often the case, she wrote her disorderly thoughts down. Wishing she could converse with Mr. Darcy himself, she chose to write him a letter and imagine his response. Then her mind could rest. Surely puzzling out his character was the only reason why he was constantly in her mind.

  Unexpectedly, her plan unravelled. While she intently examined each of their conversations and interactions, instead of understanding Mr. Darcy’s character, she received a revelation on her own. She was hurt when he insulted her at the assembly because she was attracted to him as a handsome stranger.

  At first Elizabeth believed him ridiculous, but too soon she recognized she gave weight to his words. To save herself from caring for his opinion, she found a reason to dislike him with every breath he took. Her reason could not tolerate her weakness in liking so ungentlemanly a man, which must explain why she lashed out at him as often as possible.

  Despite herself, his intelligence and wry sense of humour appealed to her. The way he challenged her in debate but still respected her opinion made her feel valued. She had seen that he was proud and haughty, but something in her believed there was more to him, almost as though he wore a mask, as though her heart knew his. She could not fully explain how it happened, but while she was determined to dislike Mr. Darcy, she had somehow fallen in love with him instead.

  I love him. The words were still barely a whisper
in her heart; she did not have the confidence to allow them more voice than that. He looked at her only with contempt and had departed, taking his friend with him. Learning of his mistreatment of Mr. Wickham, his childhood friend, and his assumed role in separating Mr. Bingley from Jane hurt worse than his first slight ever could.

  Her first thought was to burn the letter immediately. Then she determined she would keep it, for a little while at least. Such a momentous understanding, that she dare not share with anyone else, she might wish to read again. Indeed, in the letter she expounded all the reasons she should not care for him. She could easily talk herself out of her fancy and firm her resolve when reminded of his faults.

  With what she believed to be a renewed calmness of mind she readied her other letters to go in the morning’s post: a letter to her Aunt Gardiner and letters to two local friends whose families were spending the winter in Town. She set her stack of four sealed letters aside on her desk and readied herself for bed, determined to sleep well despite her resolutely troubled mind.

  Chapter Two

  December 10, 1811

  Longbourn

  9am

  Thomas Bennet heard his wife in the parlour shrieking with unprecedented enthusiasm. Although the man was rarely stirred to leave his sanctuary, he was able to discern the difference in her screams. This one had a tone of genuineness. He entered the parlour.

  “Ten thousand pounds a year! ‘Tis as good as a lord! Oh, I shall go distracted!”

  “What are you speaking of, Mrs. Bennet?”

  “Of Lizzy marrying! I knew she could not be so clever for nothing! And so sly!”

  Letting out an exasperated sigh, as it seemed he was mistaken in believing his presence needed, Mr. Bennet rolled his eyes. “And to whom have you presumed to betroth her this time?”