A Case of Some Delicacy

by K C Kahler

  He did not let her go. There was no one left to witness them as he spun her across the room onto the balcony. She stood with him in the moonlight, her bare hands still in his. She smiled a smile full of ease and warmth. The expression on her face, the look in her eyes—it made his knees weak and his breath short. It was an expression she reserved only for her most cherished loved ones. His fondest, most precious wish was that she look upon him thus.

  And now she did, in the moonlight on the balcony. He stepped towards her. Closer. She tilted her face up to him. Closer. He felt her warm breath on his lips, and still, her fine eyes held him in a trance.

  “Lizzy,” he whispered as he closed his eyes and moved forward the last fraction of an inch.

  His lips met nothing.

  His eyes flew open and he looked around frantically. His breath was short for an entirely different reason now. He was alone.

  He leaned over the balustrade and saw her far below, standing on the ground. Heights never bothered him before, but he was terrified now. If she had not been there, staring up at him, he would have stepped back and never looked down again.

  “Come down,” she said. “Please.”

  “I shall,” he said, desperate to get to her. He turned to leave the balcony.

  There was no door. No window. Nothing.

  He went back to the railing. Thank God she was still there. He heard footsteps but saw no one else in the night.

  “Must I jump?” He did not like the sound of those footsteps.

  “Yes.”

  “But it is very high.”

  She turned her head in the direction of the approaching intruder.

  He whispered as he gripped the rail, “I am frightened.” But she did not hear. He stood frozen in fear, racking his brain for another way, and all the while, the footsteps continued.

  “Please,” she said again, looking up at him once more.

  The footsteps got closer and closer as Darcy gathered his courage. A man’s voice called from the darkness, “Lizzy.”

  Darcy swung one leg over the railing as Elizabeth took a few steps back. “Wait!” Darcy pleaded.

  “Lizzy,” the voice called again. She turned and began walking towards it.

  “No!” Darcy yelled as he swung his other leg over the railing. He must reach her before this newcomer did. He jumped.

  He fell for the longest time, his stomach in his throat. But he knew he was too late.

  Darcy jerked awake in the armchair as if he had landed there. He had dozed off in the library after a short night plagued by similar dreams. He cursed under his breath.

  Someone whistled, “Rough slumbers, old boy? I had thought of waking you, but sometimes that’s worse.”

  Darcy looked up to see Hurst swirling a glass of port. “What time is it?” he asked thickly.

  “Nearly time for dinner. I think you need one of these more than I do.” Hurst moved across the room to pour another glass.

  “Bingley has not returned from Longbourn?” Darcy took the proffered glass and swallowed half of it.

  “He has, but he went upstairs in high dudgeon after some words with Caroline. My mother always said those siblings were prone to the most ridiculous histrionics, but I thought she only meant the females.”

  Darcy sat up. Did Bingley argue with Miss Bingley or did his foul mood precede the altercation? If Bingley’s visit had not gone well, it only meant one thing: rejection. Darcy could not believe it.

  He gulped the rest of his port. “Thank you, Hurst. I needed that.” He rose and moved towards the door. “I shall see what has upset him.”

  Hurst shrugged, muttering, “Young people in love…”

  Darcy climbed the stairs and knocked on Bingley’s door.

  “Yes, I know dinner is soon, Caroline,” came the testy answer.

  Darcy turned the knob and swung the door open. “Darcy! You look awful!”

  He ignored Bingley’s greeting. “Hurst told me you were distressed when you returned from Longbourn.”

  “Oh! No, not really. It is not what you think. I was a bit miffed, yes.”

  “What are you talking about?” Darcy did not have the energy to decipher Bingley’s mysterious statement.

  “The situation at Longbourn prevented me from proposing.”

  Darcy motioned impatiently for more explanation.

  “The whole house is in an uproar. Ja—Miss Bennet was very worried about her sister and exasperated by her mother.”

  “I do not understand.”

  “Mr Collins proposed to Miss Elizabeth this morning and was refused. Mrs Bennet has taken to her rooms in an aggravated fit of self-pity, while Mr Bennet has sought refuge in the library, leaving the girls to bear the brunt of her nervous…condition, not to mention Mr Collins’s wounded pride.”

  “But she will not be forced into the match?” Darcy asked, alarmed.

  “No, Jane told me the last thing Mr Bennet did before disappearing was refuse to force the marriage. But you know how he is: an odd mixture of sarcastic wit and caprice. He supported Miss Elizabeth’s refusal in such a manner as to vex Mrs Bennet as much as possible. I was not present for the worst of it, and what I saw, or heard rather, was bad enough. None of the girls dare to even raise their voices above a whisper, for fear of Mrs Bennet renewing her verbal abuses of Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Why does Mr Bennet not do something?” Darcy asked crossly.

  Bingley shook his head sadly, “I have no idea. But under the circumstances, I could not ask Jane to marry me. She was too tired and anxious. It must wait until I return from London. I shall retrieve the ring, in any case.”

  Darcy slumped into one of the chairs before the fireplace, rubbing his eyes. Bingley took the facing chair.

  “Have you decided to accompany me to London then? You do not look fit for the ride, quite frankly.”

  “No. I shall remain here for now.” Darcy had an appointment to keep in the morning and was now even more determined to keep it. She might need to talk, and he was quite willing to hear her. He also must know precisely what Wickham had told her. He had not decided how much he should explain about that man. But surely Elizabeth could be trusted with Georgiana’s secret.

  “Good. Perhaps Caroline will stop pestering me now. She wanted us all to leave for London tomorrow, to stay through the New Year. Can you imagine? I realise she did not know the purpose of my call at Longbourn today, but even so, I am publicly committed to Miss Bennet already!”

  “Did you clearly inform your sister of your intentions?”

  “Yes, repeatedly. But she insists I ought to take a few months away from here to carefully consider, or reconsider, as the case may be.”

  “The time for consideration is long past. You have committed yourself by honour, and I daresay, by inclination.”

  “I have no regrets whatsoever, Darcy, no wish to reconsider. I am perfectly content with my choice. Had I not acted when I did, it might have been Jane who received a marriage proposal from Mr Collins this morning! Then how great would have been my regret?”

  “Indeed.” Darcy stared into the fire.

  “Now, what has you in such a foul mood? Too much dancing last night? Or too much drinking?” Bingley had apparently pulled himself from his “miff.”

  Darcy’s lips turned up slightly. “If I were in a foul mood, I would credit it to too little sleep last night.”

  “Ah. I had very little sleep as well, but I suppose men in the throes of love do not need to sleep as mortal men do. I believe I could have flown to Longbourn today.”

  “Sometimes you really are the biggest fool, Bingley.”

  “I know. One of us must be every now and again, and it certainly will not be the staid, sensible, dutiful Mr Darcy.”

  Darcy had no reply to this. Sense, seriousness, responsibility—he had always been proud of these traits in himself. But now he was a man in the throes of love as much as Bingley was. What is love but a throwing over of sense and seriousness? And in his case, duty? Darcy
had not embraced it, and therefore, his nights were tormented, while down the hall, Bingley enjoyed the sleep of a man without regret.

  Darcy knew what the dream meant. Jealousy, indecision, fear—these were the new traits he saw within himself. And they were wholly foreign to him. Not that he had never been afraid before. He had been. But it had never dictated his actions, or his inactions. Such indecision was wrapped up in the fear. At first, he had been afraid of society’s judgment. But the deeper he fell into this love, the more another fear grew. It was now so large it dwarfed the other. He knew Elizabeth would reject anyone she did not love. He feared revealing his feelings to her, for she had the power to crush him. He feared risking himself.

  But fear and indecision can only last so long. At some point, he would choose; either he would confess to her and take his chances or he would leave Hertfordshire as planned and recommit himself to sense, seriousness, and responsibility.

  As for tomorrow, the decision was already made. He would meet her, and he would enjoy every minute of it. Perhaps it was a mistake. Dancing had only appeared in his dreams after he had danced with her. But he could not regret it. The first half of the dream was heaven. He would gladly dream it again, even if every awakening was as jarring as the one he had had twenty minutes ago. He would gladly dance with her again. And tomorrow, he would gladly meet with her again, alone. So much for sense and responsibility.

  “Shall we go down for dinner?”

  “Yes, let us face your sister,” Darcy said.

  * * *

  Elizabeth rose just before the sun. She lay for several minutes savouring the quiet of Longbourn. She heard no wailing, no whimpering. Her mother was asleep. When she awoke, would today be a repeat of yesterday’s drama? Elizabeth did not mind so much for herself—she was often the target of her mother’s complaints, though yesterday was an extreme example—but she hated how disruptive Mrs Bennet’s behaviour was to her sisters. Poor Lydia had barely finished a chapter all day. And poor Jane! Aside from the brief respite afforded by Mr Bingley’s visit, she had spent most of her day trying, often in vain, to calm Mrs Bennet.

  Elizabeth went to her window, looking out at the sunrise. She could not contain her excitement. How early would he come to Oakham Stream? What would he say? They no longer had any secret agenda to accomplish, but he clearly wished for privacy to speak to her. He must have more to tell her concerning Mr Wickham. She could not imagine, could not let herself think, that it might be more than that. She remembered the way he had distracted Mr Collins at the ball for her benefit, the way he had danced with Lydia at her request. And of course she remembered their dance. In truth, her mother’s noisy lamentations could hardly disturb Elizabeth’s reflections on the subject; such thoughts had filled her mind since the end of the ball. It made her feel doubly guilty. Jane, Charlotte, and even Lydia, were trying so hard to shield her, when all the while she had this secret delight, this hidden sanctuary.

  She quietly went downstairs. No one stirred yet. She retrieved her boots and sat at the back door to tie them.

  “Good morning, Lizzy.” Mr Bennet’s quiet voice startled her.

  “Good morning, Papa.”

  “I am happy to see the cold will not keep you from escaping the situation here.”

  “You know me better than that. But…”—she paused, not knowing whether she should say anything further—“but I do wish the others had some means of escape too. I am sorry to have caused such turmoil here.”

  He shook his head sadly. “You have done nothing wrong, Lizzy. I thought perhaps we should give your mother one day of free…expression. And frankly, I did not wish to further provoke her under the circumstances. I am sorry you all suffered through it while I hid behind the thick door of the library. But if your mother has not yet calmed, I shall not let today follow yesterday’s course. Do not think too poorly of your dawdling papa.”

  “You know I do not, and I am exceedingly grateful you supported my refusal. But now, we both must deal with the consequences, unpleasant as they may be, without burdening everyone else in the house.” She wished to lighten the mood, adding, “Besides, if you wish for Lydia to continue her literary exertions, she must have a bit more quiet.”

  He smiled. “Then, by all means, I shall see that she has it. Once again you have done what I should have long ago. Your influence has greatly improved her.”

  “She only needed a little encouragement in the right direction and perhaps a little motivation that none of us could have supplied.”

  “What motivation is that?”

  “That of a handsome, rich, eligible gentleman who values a rousing literary discussion, of course.”

  “Ah, the venerable Mr Darcy. Well, I suppose his coming here will have one lasting positive effect, as long as Lydia does not repudiate her scholarly advances when he departs.”

  “It is up to us to make sure she does not.” Elizabeth said, not wishing to dwell upon a certain gentleman’s departure.

  “That’s my determined Lizzy, putting me to shame again. Now, what ideas have you about improving Kitty’s disposition?” Though delivered in a jesting tone, Elizabeth knew her father’s wish for advice was sincere. He genuinely wanted to improve his previously neglected daughters.

  “Jane and I have a few thoughts. Perhaps later today you will invite us behind that thick door to discuss it.”

  “Depend upon it. Now, I see you are eager to be out of doors. I shall delay you no longer. Be sure to keep warm.” He held her coat up for her.

  She was indeed eager to leave the house, though he could hardly guess why. She slipped her arms into the sleeves and buttoned herself up. “I may be later than usual.”

  “But,” he said with mock surprise, “do you not wish to break your fast with your mother and your cousin?”

  She pulled her gloves on. “Goodbye, Papa.”

  “I shall instruct Cook to keep some food warm for you whenever you return.”

  She grinned at him as she turned towards the door. And then she was outside, hurrying towards the road, her mind full of cheerful thoughts. Her father continued his slow progress towards better managing his family, and Mr Collins would depart for good tomorrow, with no further desire to find a wife among them. Jane and Mr Bingley’s courtship was going splendidly, John would be returning in a matter of weeks, and the Gardiners would be visiting shortly after that.

  But most importantly, Elizabeth was on her way to meet Mr Darcy. She arrived, her spirits high, at the small clearing on the bank of Oakham Stream and stood watching the water flow over the rocks for a few minutes. She had a most amusing tale to tell about her first marriage proposal. She could laugh about it now that it was over. She did laugh.

  “The future Mrs Collins, I presume.”

  The deep voice, sounding so formal, yet ripe with a suppressed smile, signalled that Elizabeth was no longer alone. She was laughing gaily as she turned to face him, and the sight of him there, as tall and imposing as ever, yet now so welcome, made her giddy with the feeling of shared camaraderie and mutual success. She had never felt such a communion of spirit with anyone before—not Charlotte, not John, not even Jane, really. With any of those three, in such a giddy moment of triumph, Elizabeth would have embraced them, and that instinct quite overtook her.

  A laugh still on her lips, her arms were suddenly about his upper arms, her hands on his back, and her cheek pressed up against his chest before she even knew what she had done. “What a story I have to tell you, my brilliant accomplice.”

  Only when she felt his large hands on her back did Elizabeth realize the impropriety of her actions. Her mirth died in her throat, and she froze in mortification. She became keenly aware of Mr Darcy’s person—the tautness of his arms under hers, the feel of his shoulder blades beneath her gloved palms through the layers of his clothing, the rise and fall of his chest. He sighed quietly.

  After a moment more of tense confusion, Elizabeth withdrew. Her eyelids lowered onto reddened cheeks, she murmured, �
�Forgive me. Forgive me.” She could not raise her eyes to his as she stepped away. “I quite let my glee overrun my faculties.”

  Elizabeth felt a brief, light touch on her upper arms before he stepped back and cleared his throat. “Please, do not worry yourself. I quite understand your celebratory enthusiasm. A huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders. I am relieved to see your spirits so high. Bingley’s account of the atmosphere at Longbourn yesterday…well, I know you had a difficult time of it.”

  Regaining some of her composure, she still could not look him in the eye. She stared at his top coat button instead. “Oh, I am accustomed to my mother’s disapproval and was only too happy to finally put an end to Mr Collins's aspirations for a Bennet wife. I honestly do not want to imagine how differently things might have turned out without your help. I cannot thank you enough, Mr Darcy.”

  “The only thanks I require is the disclosure of this story you mentioned.”

  “Yes, I am quite eager to share it with someone at least once. I suppose it is horribly indiscreet to do so; even Mr Collins deserves some compassion. But you are already sworn to secrecy, and I owe you some amusing stories.” Now she raised the level of her gaze to his chin. She could go no higher. Instead, she turned back to the water. “Shall we walk? It is too cold to keep still.”

  He motioned for her to lead the way, and she carefully kept her distance as she moved past him. Elizabeth gathered her jumbled thoughts while they walked upstream.

  “Let me set the scene,” she began. “After a very late breakfast, Mr Collins found me, together with my mother and Kitty, in the breakfast room. He began by asking my mother for the honour of a private audience with her fair daughter.”

  Elizabeth proceeded to relate, in as much detail as possible, the ensuing marriage proposal, complete with Mr Collins's stated reasons for marrying, not the least of which was the helpful advice of Mr Darcy’s own aunt.

  “Good God! You imitate Mr Collins’s formal cadence perfectly,” the gentleman interjected between laughs. “I readily believe my aunt meddlesome enough to dictate the qualities he should seek in a wife.”