by E Bradshaw
“Not foolish,” muttered Darcy in reply, “though perhaps a little too naive in your innocence. Some men are not to be trusted when they have been out drinking and boasting together. Unfortunately, some can be very dishonourable and can act on their immoral inclinations at such times – and I would not wish for you or any of your sisters to come to any harm.”
It was as far as he could go in expressing his feelings for her in their present circumstance. He knew that he sounded disapproving, but it was far better to appear that way than to give in to his desires. He was all too agonisingly aware of the darkness and hush of the household; of Elizabeth standing before him wearing nothing but her nightgown – and of the bed laid out behind them. He shifted his feet a little unsteadily; it would be so easy to blame his actions on having had too much to drink. And yet, as he forcibly reminded himself, he would not do that.
He would not violate Mr Bennet’s trust by seducing his daughter under his very roof. He knew that Mr Bennet trusted his honour as a gentleman and that was why he had felt safe in sending him upstairs in the company of his daughter. Because he knew that he would not violate that trust. But how hard that was! And especially right now – with Elizabeth looking so lovely and apologetic in the soft candlelight. It would be so easy to push her back onto the bed; to silence her protests with kisses and to take her virginity...
Darcy abruptly shook his head as he snapped out of his utterly indecent fantasy, and then decisively gritted his teeth and took a deliberate step away from her. Elizabeth glanced up at him, her confusion clear in her expression – and then she unwittingly made the situation so much worse by speaking of the subject that had most injured him when she had rejected him on that fateful day. “But you are not one of those men, Mr Darcy,” she said softly. “I know now that you are principled and kind and good; that you are a true gentleman and that you always act with honour.”
Darcy stared at her in surprise; he felt he could not speak or breathe for it seemed as though all the air had been abruptly punched from his lungs, and he felt utterly disoriented as a treacherous feeling of hope sprang up within him. Belatedly he became aware that he was making Elizabeth feel uncomfortable by staring at her, for she blushed again and glanced down at her feet as she spoke again.
“Did you really attack a man just for speaking improperly about me?” she asked quietly.
When Darcy did not reply, she glanced up again to watch his face. Darcy managed to give her a small nod, but he felt that speech was completely beyond him in that moment.
“Then why could you not have told me that?” asked Elizabeth with obvious exasperation in her tone. “Why could you not have told me what had happened at the inn that day? I would have understood why you were so cross with me if you had only explained everything! Why must you always be so stubborn and completely impenetrable?”
Darcy had no ready answer to her questions and could therefore only shrug in response. He could have told her that he had never been very good at expressing his inner emotions, or explained how utterly nervous and foolish she made him feel – but he knew very well that it was not safe to say such things aloud. Nevertheless, on seeing Elizabeth’s serious expression, he felt moved at last to make some sort of reply. “We neither of us express ourselves very clearly, I think,” he said carefully – thinking as he spoke about Elizabeth’s astonishing words.
He had had no idea at all that she held such altered opinions of him until she had revealed herself as she just had – and he silently wondered what her words meant and if she could hold any deeper feelings for him than just a sense of esteem. Darcy dearly wished that he could ask her, but he knew there was a danger in them being so secluded together as they were. There was a limit to his self-control, after all, and he did not feel that it would be safe to start revealing his private feelings for her in case he was to say too much or frighten her with his vehemence. He still had no idea if she might welcome his love, for although she had spoken of being wrong and had expressed her good opinion of him, it still did not necessarily mean that she might actually love him as he wished that she could. Besides, after suffering through the heartbreak of her last rejection, it was natural that he should feel overly cautious and retreat even further into the safety of his customary reticence.
Nevertheless, he could have kicked himself for it, for Elizabeth appeared rather puzzled by his carefully worded response, and it was clear that she felt just as awkward in their seclusion as he did, for she attempted to cover her embarrassment with a joke. “My younger sisters hardly spoke to me at first,” she said with a rueful smile, as she referred to their last encounter. “They were very upset with me for being so rude to you. I believe that you have gained some very devout friends here since you returned to Hertfordshire!”
Despite his resolve not to stray into treacherous territory with her, Darcy nevertheless could not help but give a heartfelt response. He looked directly into her eyes as he answered her, willing her to understand the deeper meaning behind his words. “It was my intention to make a better impression on my return here than I did before,” he answered softly. “I am glad to know your family better; they are good people and I heartily regret the uncivil way I behaved towards them in the past.”
Elizabeth seemed lost for words at this, and instead she bit her lip and glanced down at her feet as she answered. “You are very kind, sir,” she said softly, and Darcy could not mistake the tremor he heard in her voice as she spoke. “Indeed, you are far kinder than I think I deserve.”
Darcy drew breath to contradict her, but he sensed that Elizabeth wished only to escape, for she bobbed a quick curtsey to him and then immediately began to back out of the room.
“Good night,” she murmured as she reached the door – and then she turned and fled, leaving him all alone in a room that reminded him so painfully of her that he found he could hardly breathe.
Chapter 8
Sleep had been nigh-on impossible for Darcy to achieve that night, for he had found it very strange to sleep in Elizabeth’s bedroom surrounded by all her personal things and most prized possessions. Everywhere he turned he encountered traces of her presence and reminders of her personality. Her favourite books lined her bookshelf and still more were piled upon her bedside table. He read the titles on the spines, smiling to himself to find several that were also favourites of his own. Her hair ribbons were scattered about on her vanity table, and a simple golden necklace which he had often seen her wearing had been left lying next to her hairbrush. He found other indications of her tastes and interests as he looked around the room; he saw her sewing things left upon the window seat, along with a recent newspaper, and there were various watercolour paintings framed upon the walls – one of which he saw was signed by Elizabeth herself.
He had had no idea that she was so artistic, and he guessed that the painting – depicting the view over the valley beyond Meryton – must be one of her favourite scenes. He remembered a previous conversation that he had once had with Elizabeth and Miss Bingley in the earliest days of their acquaintance, and he cringed when he recollected how he had pompously outlined the accomplishments that a young lady ought to have. Elizabeth had openly laughed at him for his absurdity and had roundly contradicted him, telling him that she had never met a lady so accomplished as he had described. She had always modestly disparaged her own singing and pianoforte performances, and yet he had long since appreciated her understated talents. Now he saw how truly accomplished she was; she was clearly well-read and artistic – and he admired her all the more.
Elizabeth had quickly tidied her remaining clothes away whilst she had been in the room with him, and yet he could not help but open her wardrobe door and look at her dresses hanging there. Each gown reminded him of a different occasion when he had seen her; there was the pink dress that she had worn when she had arrived at Netherfield Hall to nurse her sister, and the pale blue dress which she had worn when he had encountered her walking through Rosings Park. He smiled to remember the mu
d that had been splattered across her dress and petticoats on that fateful day at Netherfield; she had been utterly fearless and completely unconcerned over Mrs Hurst’s and Miss Bingley’s disapproval. Then there was the beautifully embroidered satin dress which she had worn when she had danced with him at the Netherfield ball – and finally, the printed dress with the little yellow flowers which she had been wearing on the day when she had refused him.
Darcy abruptly shut the wardrobe door, wishing as he did that he could shut his mind on such painful memories as easily as he could close a door. He undressed quickly, laying his clothes neatly across the stool where Elizabeth’s stockings had been laid earlier, and soon afterwards he climbed into bed wearing only his shirt. He blew out the candles on the bedside table and shut his eyes, valiantly trying to find sleep. However, though Elizabeth was no longer there, it was inevitable that his thoughts would be full of her, and thus it was simply impossible to shut out all the emotions that crowded his mind.
Her delicate floral scent still lingered behind and Darcy found himself recollecting in his mind’s eye how she had looked in her nightgown. It was certainly not a helpful way in which to find sleep, he considered wryly to himself, and he forcibly tried to stop his imagination from progressing any further. Nevertheless, such thoughts led him to remember how it had felt to hold her soft form close within his arms on the day of her mother’s funeral – and he inevitably felt his body responding as a result. Impatiently, he rolled over and tried desperately to think of something else. It was going to be a long night, he decided, and he would not be at all surprised if sleep completely eluded him and he ended up tossing and turning until dawn.
*****
Longbourn in the morning was a scene of utter chaos, Darcy discovered early the next day. He realised that he must have managed to find sleep at some point in the night, for he was abruptly awoken by the sound of Kitty and Lydia laughing. He rubbed his eyes and sat up against the pillows as he listened more carefully to the sounds within the house; it sounded as if Kitty and Lydia were playing some sort of boisterous game, though their laughter stopped shortly afterwards after a sharp rebuke from Elizabeth. He heard Jane’s voice quietly remonstrating with her youngest sisters, and soon afterwards he heard Mary asking Elizabeth if she could borrow one of her books. He strained to listen as Elizabeth explained why such a request would have to wait until she could return to her room, and he heard his own name mentioned as part of the explanation – though the rest of their conversation was inaudible to him.
Leaning over to collect his pocket watch from the bedside table, Darcy realised that it was already approaching eight o-clock in the morning and he sat up straight in the bed, feeling a little embarrassed to have slept for so long. He was typically an early riser and it was not like him to sleep in so late. Despite the fact that most gentlemen of the noble ranks kept to the fashionable hours that were followed by Town society, preferring to stay up late and rise even later, Darcy had never followed such habits, believing that such routines were completely dissolute and a waste of his time. He had always preferred living in the countryside, and there, where there were less fashionable trends to keep up with, he was able to keep to country routines. Thus, he tended to rise early with the sun, and chose to dine when he was hungry, rather than when polite society dictated that it was fashionable to do so.[3]
Whilst Darcy and Charles had been residing in Hertfordshire, they had followed the country habits of rising early and going to bed at a respectable hour, though whenever they lived in Town they had been obliged to follow the trends of their social circle by attending late social functions and dining at a later hour too. Darcy knew all too well that Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst would have looked down their noses at the Bennet family for their unfashionable country routines, but he could tell by the lively sounds echoing within the house that this was a family who were used to rising early. He guessed that the family would likewise break their fast quite early, and thus he hoped that his late appearance at the dining table would not cause them any inconvenience.
He swung his legs out of bed with the intention of getting dressed straight away, and as if perfectly timed to his purpose, he heard a knock suddenly rap at the door as he did. “Come in,” he ordered, and a maid appeared through the door immediately afterwards. She carried a jug of steaming water in one hand and a bar of soap in the other, and she brought a clean white shirt draped over her shoulder, which he presumed must also be for him.
“Miss Elizabeth instructed me bring you some warm water, sir,” the maid said, as she dropped him a quick curtsey and then kicked the door shut behind her with a well-practised shove.
“Thank you,” murmured Darcy, feeling a little bemused at the servant’s informal manners.
The maid hurried to put the jug and soap down on the vanity table, chattering eagerly to him as she did. “I hope I have not disturbed your sleep, sir,” she said, “but Miss Elizabeth said she doubted that you could sleep through such a racket as her sisters were making in any case.”
Darcy drew breath to answer her in the negative, though the maid did not seem to need an answer from him, for she continued on regardless.
“Though it is good to hear those girls laughing after all the tears that have been shed in this house just recently, I must say,” she continued, “and so I hope you don’t mind their boisterous ways, sir. They are good girls, all of them, and I have to say that it is nice to see them begin to smile again.”
Darcy said nothing in response since he was unaccustomed to having so much chatter from any of his own servants, but nevertheless, it was clear that the maid meant well and that she was simply used to speaking her mind. He guessed that in a smaller house such as Longbourn, where there were far fewer servants, the family and staff would inevitably become much more familiar with one other than he had been used to with his own servants. In some ways it was quite endearing to hear how fond the maid was of her young mistresses, and besides, he was interested to hear what else she might have to say about Elizabeth and so he did not interrupt her as she babbled on.
Crossing the room towards him, the maid then carefully laid the shirt down upon the bed. “The master sent a clean shirt for you, sir, so you would not have to wear the same one from yesterday,” she explained, with a little nod to indicate the crumpled shirt which he still wore. “He said he hoped it would fit you and he doesn’t need it back since it’s too big for him in any case.” The maid shook her head at this remark and tutted to herself as if she were troubled by it. “I told the master that he’s lost too much weight because he hasn’t been eating properly,” she continued in an anxious tone, “but he hardly seems to have any appetite at all ever since the poor mistress died.”
Darcy privately agreed with the maid, but he felt it would hardly be polite to say such a thing about his host, and especially not to one of his servants. Thus, as succinct as ever, he simply thanked her and did not respond to her comments. Fortunately, the maid seemed to sense that he wished to be left alone to wash and dress, and so after dutifully asking if she could bring him anything else, and after receiving a reply in the negative, she politely dipped him another curtsey and then took her leave.
Darcy wasted no time in making himself ready, and thus it was not long afterwards that he went to join the rest of the family downstairs. He was greeted by the sound of Mary practising her scales on the pianoforte, though she immediately broke off from her practice as soon as she saw him, and she and her younger sisters all smiled and welcomed him with a chorus of friendly greetings. Darcy felt strangely touched by their affability towards him and he found himself remembering with a little stab of conscience how he had once – in his immense arrogance, he now acknowledged – dismissed them as being nothing but silly, feather-brained country girls. It had only taken a little more kindness and consideration on his part to discover that they were in fact very sweet-natured young women – and he only wished that his own sister could know them, for he felt sure that their liveliness
would be extremely good for her. Better still, he wished that they might still become his sisters one day – though he was not yet confident enough as to Elizabeth’s opinions of him to allow his hopes to rise too much on that score.
Indeed, he was very curious to find out how Elizabeth would greet him that morning after their late night conversation on the evening before. She had certainly seemed more kindly disposed towards him, but after misjudging her opinions of him so terribly before, he did not like to make any such presumptions about her again – or at least not until he had received more tangible signs of encouragement from her. In fact, he was just trying to work out how he could make a casual enquiry as to Elizabeth’s whereabouts that morning (for he had no wish to rouse her younger sisters’ curiosity), when the muted sound of her voice suddenly caught his attention.
He turned around in time to see Jane and Elizabeth approaching from the direction of the servant quarters, though their conversation immediately ceased as soon as they spotted him. Darcy could only assume from the startled way that the two of them glanced at him – and moreover, from the way that Elizabeth suddenly blushed and lowered her eyes – that the two of them must have been discussing him. Nevertheless, though they were clearly embarrassed by his unexpected presence, the two of them greeted him cordially enough and quickly suggested that they should all proceed into the dining room together to have breakfast.
Despite her obvious embarrassment, Elizabeth surprised him by addressing him directly. “I hope you slept well, Mr Darcy?” she asked him as they took their seats.
“Yes, thank you, I did,” he lied in response, thinking as he did about the torturous visions that he had had of her which had long prevented sleep from coming.