Falling for Mr. Darcy (6 page)

Seeing Mr. Darcy’s sudden frown, Elizabeth continued, “I was never hurt, and the dog and horse were soon calmed, but I could not persuade myself to remount ever again. Until today, I had not been on a horse in nearly eleven years.”

During her narrative, Hill had come in once to give Jane some wraps for Elizabeth’s ankle and again with a tea tray. Darcy found himself in a state of calm contentment to hear Elizabeth talk about her childhood. He enjoyed hearing her speak and thought she had a pleasant voice. He admired her even more as he considered just what kind of concession she made in allowing him to place her on his horse. Although he was not unaware of the fact that during the story Jane had uncovered Elizabeth’s ankle from the blanket and had begun to wrap it tenderly, he could not find it as distracting as the thought of how brave Elizabeth had been earlier. Part of him realized with pride that she had allowed him to coax and comfort her in a way, and that he was the only one in over a decade who was able to help her set aside her fears and ride again.

Thinking of their ride reminded him of the feel of her relaxing against him, her head leaning on his shoulder as they talked. He was sure that her natural modesty would not have allowed that if she had been aware that she had done it. He remembered how he could feel the heat from her cheeks near his and could detect her scent was a mixture of lavender and what he could only describe as sunshine.

“So, you see, Mr. Darcy, it is not a very exciting story, but it is the reason I do not ride,” Elizabeth finished.

Coming out of his reverie, he tenderly replied, “I am amazed at how well you did today considering your fears, Miss Elizabeth. You were very brave. Perhaps, one day, with the right mount and teacher, you will again be comfortable with the sport.”

“Perhaps,” was her only reply.

At that point, Jane offered Mr. Darcy a cup of tea. He took it and thanked her. “Will you not stay for breakfast, Mr. Darcy?” she asked.

Mr. Darcy turned his head to the window and, realizing how late the day had become, took out his watch. He had been with Elizabeth three hours now and away from Netherfield for four. “Thank you, but I have been gone a long time, and I am sure my party is now missing me. Forgive me for staying so long.”

Mr. Darcy caught the disappointment in Elizabeth’s eyes and chided himself. He knew he had feelings for her, and those feelings, he was willing to admit, were becoming strong. Yet he could not let her suspect his feelings any more than he had already. It had just been so natural with her. She lightened his mood, and he felt more himself than he had in years.
It is not fair to her.
He still could not be sure what his intentions were towards her or whether he even had any.
It would not be good to raise her expectations.
He had these same thoughts previously but with a different sentiment. Before, he felt he could not raise her expectations because she was so below him. He had considered it would be natural for her to wish for a connection with him. Now, he knew he could not raise them because he did not want to hurt her feelings should he decide he could not follow where his heart wanted to lead. She had become more real to him now that he knew a bit more. He had seen her momentary disappointment and had detected other moments of her regard, and that, combined with the still-vivid memory of her softness, made him realize that the idea of Elizabeth returning his esteem was delicious to him and exceedingly tempting.

“Mr. Darcy, please allow me to thank you again. Despite the many awkward moments we have endured this morning, I have had a most pleasant time with you. Thank you for coming to my aid,” Elizabeth said with sincerity.

Standing to take his leave, he bowed to her and, taking her hand in his, gave it a quick, very proper kiss. “I wish you a speedy recovery, Miss Elizabeth.” He bowed to Jane. “Miss Bennet.”

Upon exiting the room, he recovered his gloves and his greatcoat from the footman and held out his hand for his hat. The footman looked at him in confusion and looked back to the sideboard for the missing item. Realizing that his hat was still in the grass near Netherfield, he laughed to himself and waved away the worries of the footman. “It is all right, man.” And then to himself, he whispered, “It is all right.” With that, he turned and exited the house with a sad smile.

Elizabeth and Jane listened for his exit from the house. They remained silent until they could hear the hooves of his horse as he rode away. Jane turned towards Elizabeth and gave her a huge grin. She grabbed her hands and, shaking her head, exclaimed, “What in the world have you done to Mr. Darcy, Lizzy?”

* * *

Mr. Darcy could hardly account to himself how he made it back to Netherfield. After leaving Longbourn and the presence of Miss Elizabeth, his mind was so caught up in the events of the past few hours that he could only credit the intelligence of his horse for his safe return, as it was by no means a measure of his own direction. He reached down and, thanking his horse with a pat, again contemplated what felt like a dream to him. Whether it was to be remembered as a nightmare or a pleasant dream was yet to be determined. He was sure he would suffer greatly if he were to turn away from Elizabeth now, as he knew he must. His duty demanded it. He could not decide whether or not he wished he had encountered her at all and, therefore, could avoid this further suffering. Whenever he started to wish that he had not spent the last few hours with Elizabeth, he found his mind would not tolerate it. It was anguish already to try to forget the heat of her skin through her muslin gown or the musical sound of her laughter as her sparkling eyes were turned towards him with a smile. How many times had he felt jealousy towards any man who could command that kind of smile from her? How many times had he wished he could prompt such a response? He had been a fool, indeed, to think she had been welcoming his attention at Netherfield. He knew the difference now, and he knew she barely noticed him then.

Nearing where he had lost his hat, Darcy turned his horse to retrieve it. Upon dismounting, Darcy took a moment to look at his hat. It was not like him to allow others to see him in less than pristine condition. He had not considered his appearance once during his time with Elizabeth. Darcy was surprised with himself at the relative ease he had felt with her those past few hours. It had not been that way before. He had always been so struck with her presence that it left him quite unable to speak with her at all. He usually only found enough command of himself to avoid gazing permanently at her or to say the merest civilities in response to her inquiries. He thought how frustrating it had been. After all, he was the master of Pemberley, a man of no small means and one of the most eligible bachelors in all England. So why was it his tongue had become tied at every turn in the presence of a mere slip of a girl from the country? The remainder of the ride back to the stables of Netherfield was spent in deep thought as to why that day had been different. The time did not afford him an answer, and all he could determine was that, for once, his consideration was more on Elizabeth’s wellbeing and less about his own comfort, needs and duties.

After instructing the groom in the care of his horse, ensuring it would be well brushed and fed after the day’s heavy exercise, Darcy headed for the side entrance to the house and up the back staircase. He was not yet fully in control of his faculties to appear composed to the Bingleys. Upon reaching his suite, he rang for his valet and ordered a bath.

* * *

“Darcy! I say, where have you been? It was very impolite of you to leave me to my sisters all morning. I should have liked an ally, man.” Bingley’s jubilant nature grated a bit on Mr. Darcy’s ears as he came bounding out of his chair in the library to greet his friend.

“I apologize, Bingley, for my absence. I rode out early this morning and had intended on returning long before now.” Darcy briefly considered not mentioning his encounter with Elizabeth and her family but soon realized it would be of no use. “While out, I came upon Miss Elizabeth Bennet after she had taken a fall. She was in need of my help, and I assisted her home.” Darcy was pleased with himself for the coolness his voice held. He hoped he could appear as dispassionate about the encounter as possible.

“Miss Elizabeth! Heavens! What happened to her?”

“It is nothing. She merely twisted her ankle and could not walk home. I daresay she will be better in a day or so,” Mr. Darcy replied as calmly as he could and turned to the side table to pour himself some coffee. He was trying desperately to appear calm even as his mind returned to the grove, remembering the pressure of Elizabeth’s small hands on his chest when he held her.

“Well, it is good to hear it was not worse.” Bingley mused for a moment.
Darcy is acting strangely, and I have a feeling he is not telling all.
“You say you assisted her home, Darcy? If she could not walk, how did you do it?”

Bingley smiled to himself when he saw his friend’s posture become a bit more erect and heard him answer with feigned indifference, “She rode my horse.” At this, Darcy swallowed hard and turned slowly to face his friend. He raised his coffee cup to his mouth in an attempt to disguise the slight, traitorous smile that threatened to expose him.

Bingley was a jovial man who loved a good joke. However, this was his friend, Darcy, and he looked to him in nearly all things. He would not push him to explain the smile he was obviously trying to hide with his cup — trying, and failing miserably. He had never seen him so discomposed, and it tickled his interest. Instead, he turned the discussion slightly and asked, “And how did you find the Bennets this morning?”

Darcy scowled in earnest now. Bless Bingley for finally bringing him to earth with that reminder. The family was every bit as horrible as ever. His jaw tightened as he remembered the effusions of Mrs. Bennet and the indelicate insinuations of the youngest girls. That was the trick to controlling his feelings for Elizabeth; all he had to do was remember her family and what a colossal mistake it would be to make them his own. With disdain, he answered, “The Bennets were all in good health and feeling quite themselves, I would say.”

Bingley’s good nature kept him from sensing the bitter sarcasm in his friend’s reply and was satisfied with the response. A few quiet minutes passed in which Bingley was briefly lost in happy thoughts about the eldest of that family when the door to the library flew open and in walked Miss Bingley.

Mr. Darcy groaned internally as she moved directly to his side. She was shrouded in a noisy and stiff, mustard-colored, silk gown. Her red hair, clashing hideously with the color of the gown, was swept up into a pretentious knot at the side of her head. The top of her head held a matching turban adorned with a full six inches of brown feathers. As she swept closer, Darcy held his breath in anticipation as her fragrance wafted towards him a moment before impact. He quickly pulled his coffee up to his face, this time to block the assault of her nauseating perfume. Miss Bingley prided herself in the unique mixture of rose and musk toilette water that she used. She did not know, however, that when combined with the natural moisture of her skin, the two scents created an aroma somewhere between vinegar with eggs and decaying flowers.

Upon reaching Darcy, Miss Bingley laced one of her cold, clammy hands through his arm with a proprietary air as she looked up to him and spewed, “Oh, my dear, Mr. Darcy! How worried we all were when we learned you had not returned from your ride in time for breakfast. It was not very gentlemanly of you to cause us such great concern.” With this, she swatted his arm delicately with the end of her folded brown fan, stirring the air ungraciously up to his nose and causing the feathers in her headpiece to flick him in the face.

With stiffness, Darcy turned and braced himself as he looked down at her. She smiled widely, and he noticed she had a bit of stewed tomato from her breakfast protruding from her tooth. He feigned a smile that looked more like a grimace and said, “My apologies, madam, I was detained.” He carefully detached his arm and walked towards the window in an attempt to find clean air to refill his lungs.

Bingley came to his rescue and began to explain the whole of the morning’s excitement responsible for his friend’s delay. With little grace, Miss Bingley’s cold tone betrayed her as she asked with the barest civility after the health of Miss Elizabeth. She was not happy to hear that the morning was spent with Eliza. She had just gotten rid of the chit who was now tromping across the countryside after her Mr. Darcy. Caroline wished she were a better walker and could find herself somewhere in need of Mr. Darcy’s assistance.

Her thoughts were interrupted as Darcy turned abruptly to Bingley and suggested they take the time before tea to look over some of the estate books. With his friend’s consent, Miss Bingley was forced to smile pleasantly and leave the gentlemen to their work as she exited the room in search of her sister.

* * *

Elizabeth paused as she considered what to say to Jane’s shocked outburst over the change in Mr. Darcy. She had no real answer to give except that he, indeed, had appeared different that day. She reflected that, in all the weeks she had known the gentleman, he had never before spoken as many words to her in all of their previous encounters combined. She also briefly considered how this new, open, charming and kind Darcy was affecting her equilibrium. This was the first time she had entertained positive thoughts about him. She had always considered the man attractive, a fact that only served to pour salt into her wounded pride whenever she was reminded of his most public denouncing of her physical attributes at the assembly. This offence had only served to keep her distaste for him in the forefront. The more times she met with him, the more she found him proud and arrogant. She questioned whether, had he not vocally debased
her
beauty, she would have tried so hard not to be affected by
his
by thinking ill of him whenever possible. She saw, that morning, moments of shyness and anxiety that had looked very much like the pride and conceit she had witnessed previously, and wondered whether she had not judged him wrongly.