Chapter
1
The
26th of November was a date that would remain in the memory of the
villagers of Meryton for a long time. Gentlemen as fine as Mr. Charles Bingley rarely
showed any interest in the region and in those few occasions when they did
approach those latitudes and chose one of Meryton’s finest houses to
settle in, they never honoured the town with a magnificent event such as the
ball Mr. Charles Bingley and his sisters hosted on that date.
For some, the highlights of the evening were
the musicians Mr. Bingley brought from London,
to others the exquisite food. The matrons of the village certainly saw this
gathering as a great opportunity to expose their daughters to eligible suitors
while the younger ladies were thrilled for being given the chance to admire the
numerous officers present at the event. For those less inclined to frivolity,
it was a good opportunity to observe the other’s behaviour and form opinions
on matters they thought were of great importance yet were none of their
concern. Miss Mary Bennet’s poor performance at the pianoforte was
criticized by many, as was her mother’s mercenary –and inebriated-
remarks on how the fortune of her eldest, once Mr. Bingley proposed, would put
her other daughters in the path of other rich men.
As the brightness of the stars faded and the
first rays of dawn gradually tinted the sky, the last candles worn off, a
silent army of servants took over of the rooms of Netherfield Park,
returning the mansion to the neatness of which the master’s sister was so
obsessive. The ladies of the house retired when the last carriage rolled out of
the pebbled road whilst Mr. Hurst, unable to climb his way up in his drunken
state, was assisted upstairs by two strong footmen so that his manservant would
take care of him. The master of the house, Mr. Charles Bingley, and his closest
friend, Mr. Darcy, remained in the library for one last meeting before going to
bed.
The subject of their conversation did not
transpire among the others, but some of the servants that were walking around
that room could have sworn that the name ‘Miss Bennet’ was
mentioned several times during the men’s conference. The reason was more
than obvious; the master seemed quite besotted with the young lady. Yet, for
motives foreign to their understanding, Mr. Bingley stormed out of the room
demanding his trunks to be packed and the carriage to be ready for him and his
party to depart for London
on the following day, at noon. Netherfield house would be vacant once again.
Not as disturbed as his friend after the brief
meeting, the taciturn Darcy also headed for his rooms with the conviction of
having done what he thought was the best for his friend. As he lay on his bed
and revisited their conversation, Darcy knew at heart that everything he had
said was in his friend’s best interests. Bingley’s propensity to
fall in and out of love was at times worrisome. He believed that his friend
needed some time away to reflect on his recently born affection for Miss Jane
Bennet and meditate on the inconvenience of a union with her. He did not think
her connections were inappropriate, not for Bingley. His fears resided on the
possibility that Bingley’s sentiments might not be reciprocated, as the
beautiful Miss Bennet, while receiving his friend’s attentions with
pleasure, lacked the effusiveness that most women her age would display when a
suitor of Bingley’s calibre showed any partiality for them.
It did not help that the entire village was
speculating on a union between the young couple. Darcy was certain that, by the
time the rooster crowed that morning, Meryton’s population, with Mrs.
Bennet at the lead, would be already setting the date for Bingley’s wedding
ceremony and elaborating the most intricate plans to throw the young lovers
into each others paths.
While his friend’s welfare was a valid
motivation, another reason urged Darcy to flee from Netherfield, one not as
altruistic as his first cause but equally related with matters of the heart. A
young lady had caught his eye. And this lady in particular had him completely
bewitched. Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the second eldest of the Bennet family was
the most alluring woman he had ever met in his eight and twenty years of life.
Miss Elizabeth did not possess her
sister’s ethereal beauty or her graceful figure, or even her delicate
attitude, yet she had this unusual charm, a sense of strength and determination
that he found enchanting. Darcy had denied the attraction when he first met
her --he was, after all, a man of sense and education-- but after
spending a few weeks in her society, Darcy had fallen under the spell of Miss
Elizabeth’s fine eyes and enticing wit and became her most fervent
–if silent-- admirer.
The lady in question, Darcy assumed, appeared
to be equally attracted to his noble person. Not many ladies of his
acquaintance would engage themselves in conversation with a man like him
without feeling intimidated by his superior mind or would take such delight in
challenging him into philosophic debates. Yet, the brave Miss Bennet did not
fear him. In fact, she seemed to find pleasure in provoking him and their
conversations usually became a battle of wits which he both found physically
stimulating and mind invigorating. On more than one occasion he even dared to
imagine that she was blatantly flirting with him because she always seemed to
find a way to draw his attention to her, even when he was writing a letter or
reading a book whilst in her company.
Still, Darcy knew he would never be able to act
upon his growing attraction for the lady. Unlike his contemporaries, he was not
a flirt; he had been raised with good principles and strict morality. He was
taught to always respect the difference between classes and had the conviction
that well bred gentlemen such as himself should never encourage false hopes in
ladies of inferior birth. Yet, despite all this, he felt he could no longer
suppress his urges. He was constantly thinking of her during the day and dreaming
the most inappropriate fantasies during the night.
The consequences of his infatuation did not
take long to surface. The previous evening, in the presence of the population
of Meryton that was attending the ball, against his better judgment, he had
singled her out. Despite being a man of honour that never acted upon his primal
desires, he had asked her to dance.
Darcy was not the type of man that would easily
fall for a woman however charming. Granted, he was a keen admirer of the
feminine beauty; his aloofness shouldn’t be mistaken with lack of
interest in the fair sex, still he was no Bingley and certainly not the kind of
man that would fall in love at the drop of a hat. Yet in barely a few weeks in
her society, this lady had tempted him to act against everything he thought
sacred and break every rule society imposed. Not a good thing to happen to a
young, vital man with passionate disposition and ripe in his masculinity. The
grip Miss Elizabeth Bennet had of his most feverous sensibilities was the
strongest that he had ever felt before and Darcy knew he had to leave before
this infatuation turned into real love.
The worst part of this affair was that, in his
denial, he never realized that the bug of love was already crawling towards his
heart. Soon he would be receiving the first bite and it would not take long
before this sentiment that was still unknown to him would start to itch.
All the reasons aforementioned were enough to persuade
him that fleeing Netherfield at once was the best course of action to take.
Once in Town, he and his friend –he should not forget that his chief
purpose was to help Bingley-- would be freed from the temptation that the
Bennet sisters posed. London
would keep their minds occupied and they would forget everything related to
this unimportant village and those who resided in it.
Fully convinced that this was the right thing
to do, Darcy drifted into a restless sleep.
He dreamt of a young lady with rosy lips and
fine eyes. Her ivory skin was soft beneath his hands, her naked breasts firm
against chest, her hair smelled of roses as it spread over the pillow. It was a
dream of moist and warmth, of bodies trembling under the sheets, of legs
entangling and hips rocking as the imaginary lovers coupled after a long time
of separation. Insatiable in her lovemaking, this Elizabeth showed Darcy unimaginable
pleasures, speaking words of admiration and lust as she held him, nails digging
into his back, begging him to give her his very soul. He wanted to oblige her,
but he could not. Because as it usually happened in his dreams, the much needed
release never came, not with her. She would tempt him, provoke him, push him to
the crest of the wave only to abandon him at the last minute and fade into the
night before his turbulent waters met her shore. If he was fortunate, his seed
would be wasted over the sheets. But most of the times he did not even had that
painful luck and he would wake up alone, hard and utterly frustrated, cursing
the evasive lady with the fine eyes, his damned fate and those stupid society
impositions.
The family and guest did not wake up until
close to tea time the day that followed the ball. To Darcy’s dismay,
apparently after some late night musings, Bingley had reconsidered his decision
of leaving for London
on the following day and wanted to make a quick call on the Bennets, if not to
propose, to ask Mr. Bennet’s permission to court his daughter. Again,
Darcy endeavoured to dissuade him.
“You met her barely two months ago,
Bingley. Do you not think ‘tis a bit soon to be thinking of
marriage?”
“Two months is more than enough time to
sketch someone’s feelings, especially my own.”
“You say you know your feelings, but are
you certain of hers? Do you think your sentiments are corresponded with equal
intensity?”
“Well … she …”
Something in Darcy’s tone made Bingley realize that things might not be
as he had imagined. He had noticed a certain detachment from the lady’s
part, but attributed it to her serene and amiable temperament. “She may
not have expressed it directly, but I am sure that she … that she has the
deepest regard for my person.”
Darcy remained silent, observing
Bingley’s serious countenance, and he knew his friend was making his own
estimation of the situation. He had planted the seed of doubt and if he knew
his friend well enough, Bingley’s confusion was such that he would be now
questioning his own feelings for the lady.
“Perhaps you are in the right, my friend,
regard is not love.” Bingley said after a heavy sigh. “I should
meditate my decision a little longer.”
At that point, Caroline and Louisa made their
appearance so the conversation turned towards the ball they hosted on the
previous night. With their usual sarcasm, they recalled the forwardness
of Miss Lydia
towards the officers, Mrs. Bennet’s remarks to Lady Lucas and Miss
Mary’s disastrous performance at the piano-forte. Their amusement was
Bingley’s mortification and with every word they pronounced his doubts
about proposing to sweet Jane increased.
By supper time, the conversation revolved
around their plans for the Season and they plays they would attend in London. Darcy, Caroline
and Louisa were now convinced that in a new setting, distracted by the social
activities of the season, they were sure Bingley would forget, once and for
all, about Jane Bennet.
The morning of their departure found Mr. Darcy
walking the gardens to stretch his legs, a usual practise of him before a long carriage
ride. Outdoors and without the incessant chat of the Bingley sisters at the
breakfast table he was able to direct his thoughts towards more pleasurable
subjects.
Of course, the other Miss Bennet –his
Miss Bennet- became the centre of those thoughts he had sworn to keep at bay.
Another dream had haunted him during the previous night which was the reason
for his jittery state that morning. It was slightly different to the others. Elizabeth was not waiting
for him in his bed as it usually happened, this time she was a nymph of the
woods that tempted him to follow her into the darkness of an enchanted forest.
And followed her he had –how could he ever deny her?- chasing her into
the woods until he finally caught her and silenced her laughter with a hungry
kiss. Soon they were making love against the trunk of an old tree, her skirts
up to her waist, legs wrapped around him as she accompanied the sensuous
movements of his hips. The setting was different, but the ending the same. The
lady vanished in their coupling and Darcy was once again left alone and
unfulfilled.
The mere recollection of that dream was enough
to induce him to the previous night’s state of arousal, so he dismissed
these sinful thoughts and concentrated in the obligations he would have to face
once in London.
He had already scheduled meetings with his solicitor. He also had several
social engagements to attend, alone and with his sister, tickets for the best
plays in Town and even a couple of balls that he could not miss. It would be a
busy winter where he doubted he would have time to think of his nymph of the
woods.
Darcy’s musings took him quite away from
the house in the direction of the village. During his walk, he crossed a lady
that had been introduced to him the day his party had had tea at Lucas Lodge, a
certain Mrs. Rigby --if he wasn’t mistaken-- and her silly daughter, who
saluted him with a pompous courtesy and exaggerated enthusiasm. Darcy paid
little attention to their unnecessary explanation of the reason for their
presence there –something to do with mushrooms— and proceeded up
the road until he realized he was reaching the bifurcation that led to Meryton.
One road would take him to the village; the other would send him directly to
the Bennet estate, not far away behind the curve. With a frown, he realized he
had never intended to come this far away from Netherfield and he would be
delaying the departure for London
if he didn’t make haste in returning to the estate. With this concern in
mind, he turned on his heels and left the main road to take a narrower footpath
that he knew was a shortcut to Netherfield.
As he walked, carried on the breeze that blew
in his direction, Darcy heard the faint sound of voices coming from the Bennet
house, engaged in what seemed to be a very unpleasant argument. As the sound
grew louder, he recognized Mrs. Bennet’s shrieks, begging for her
husband’s assistance on a matter that remained unintelligible to his
ears, as well the enraged replies from one of the daughters, mingled with he
honk and cackling of the gooses and hens that had surely been scared away in
the discussion. Darcy let out a smirk on hearing the cry of the name
‘Lizzy!’ for he knew now which one of the rebellious Bennet girls
had chosen this day to defy their mother. A part of him was glad that he would
never be in any way connected to this family while the devil in him could not
but be proud of this young woman and her indomitable spirit. Perhaps she would
not make a submissive wife; yet he was envious of the man that would face the
interesting challenge of taming her.
With a shake of his head, Darcy discarded all
thoughts of wives, taming, coupling in the woods and other unchristian
recollection that usually came attached to Miss Bennet’s name and resumed
his walk back to Netherfield. He had not walked for more than tree minutes up
the path when he heard the approaching sound of a person moving in the
vicinity. In a matter of seconds, some twenty yards ahead of him, Miss
Elizabeth came into sight, running as though the devil were chasing her,
gathering her skirts and swiftly jumping fallen log before she crossed the path
in the direction of a large tree a not far into the grove. There she stopped,
looked around and hid behind the tree with her back pressed to the trunk, her
chest heaving in agitation.
Puzzled by her unseemly behaviour, Darcy
approached her. “Miss Bennet?”
The lady had failed to spot him in her frantic
run; in fact she had never imagined she would find someone in the grove, at
this hour, least of all the most unpleasant guest at Netherfield Park.
“Mr. Darcy!” she cried, resting her
hand on her racing heart. “Lord! What are you doing here?”
The gentleman pointed at the path ahead.
“I was on my way back to Netherfield.” And then, noticing her
obvious distress, he offered. “May I be of assistance?”
“No, I thank you sir, I am
well.”
Even when he thought this was no affair of his,
the gentleman in him could not just leave her in that state, breathless, perhaps
in need of help while unescorted in the woods.
“Madam, I know you are fond of walking,
but I believe you should not be wandering about this place on you own. May I
escort you back to your house?”
To this, Elizabeth
cried an emphatic ‘No!”
Darcy was startled by her conviction and chose
not to ask any questions, assuming her negative was related to the argument he
had heard earlier. The situation was as amusing as it was intriguing to him; as
Darcy could not guess what conduct from the usually well bred Miss Elizabeth
could have provoked such fierce reaction on her mother and forced the daughter
to a hasty escape. But just at that thought came into his mind, he heard the
voice of Elizabeth’s
most insupportable progenitor crying out her name.
“Lizzy!” Mrs. Bennet’s
shrieks came from the main road, “Where are you, child! Lizzy, come back
to the house at once!”
Elizabeth’s eyes
widened and looked at Darcy with an anguished stare. “Please help
me,” she whispered, “she must not find me.”
Astonished by the bravado of such a request, Mr
Darcy hesitated for a brief second. Yet in taking a second look at her he
nodded and pointed at the tree where she had been hiding to then assume a more
casual posture as he pretended to walk the path towards Netherfield. They were
lucky that Mrs. Bennet did not take this route as she continued her way down
the main road. Darcy approached Miss Bennet to inform her that the coast was
clear.
“You are safe now, Miss Bennet,” he
told her as a small smile graced his handsome features. “I believe your
mother must be already crossing the bridge towards Meryton.”
Elizabeth returned his
smile, but only briefly. She did not like the fact that the gentleman had
witnessed the latest family scandal; it had been enough embarrassment with the
spectacle they had offered during the Netherfield Ball.
“Thank you, sir. I am sorry for the
inconvenience I have caused you.”
He bowed. “I’m at your service,
ma’am.”
She replied with a brief curtsey and stood
there, waiting for him to proceed with his walk. But the gentleman seemed to
have other plans, because he was not moving.
“You can leave now, I am well.”
Darcy did not move. “I am still of the
same mind. You should not remain here alone.”
“I appreciate your concern, sir, but I
know these woods very well. I can find my way back home when I wish, nothing
will happen to me.”
“Miss Bennet,” he stepped closer,
“you seemed to have been running for your life just a moment
ago.”
She offered him a nervous, uncertain smile.
“You must be wondering why.”
“I am sure the reason that motivated you
to escape into the woods and hide from your mother is serious
enough.”
Elizabeth fiddled with her
dress as her growing frustration brought tears to her eyes. She was chewing her
bottom lip with such insistence that Darcy thought she would draw blood at any
moment.
“It is, sir,” she finally said.
“I cannot return to the house at this moment.”
“Why?” Darcy stepped even closer
until they were both barely a few feet apart, sheltered by the shadow of the
old oak tree.
“It is a matter of private nature,
sir.”
“Pray, forgive me,” Darcy assented,
“I should not have …”
Before he could finish, they heard voices
coming in their direction. “Lydia, wait for
me!”
Darcy and Elizabeth looked at each other, her
eyes round with horror. In a quick move, Darcy grabbed Elizabeth by the shoulders and pushed her
against the tree, hiding behind the trunk with her.
“Kitty, you are slower than an old
cow!” Lydia sat
heavily on the fallen log that Elizabeth
had jumped barely a few minutes earlier. “Do you think she headed in this
direction?”
“I care a fig which way she went. I am going
back home!” Kitty protested as she approached her sister, limping from
her right leg.
“Mama said we cannot return home until we
find her,”
“I have a pebble in my shoe.”
“Lizzy must be sitting at the top of Oakham
mount by now, hiding under a rock,” Lydia snorted as her sister sat by
her side and proceeded to remove her boot, “Besides, can you blame her?
Lord! I know I would be running away if Mr. Collins had proposed to me as
well.”
Darcy looked at Elizabeth, who glanced back at
him, a faint blush spreading across her cheeks.
“Poor Lizzy,” giggled the second
youngest Bennet sister as she turned her boot upside down to remove the pebble,
“can you imagine what her life will be when she marries him?”
“Sermons all day long. That will be so
tedious! I can never marry a parson. I want to marry an officer, a tall,
handsome one, and travel around the world …”
Kitty also discarded her stocking and wiggled
her toes to the fresh air. “Souderson seemed attracted to you during the
ball, you danced four dances with him.”
“What? No! I shall never accept an offer
from such a milksop, he is not five and twenty and already loosing his hair.
Denny is more of my liking, but my favourite is Mr. …”
“Lydia! Kitty!” Mrs. Bennet
called her daughters.
“Oh my, there she comes again,” Lydia
huffed. “We are here, mama!”
“Have you not seen Lizzy?” Mrs.
Bennet panted as she walked up the path.
“No, she is not here,” Kitty
hurried to put her stocking back on. “We have searched everywhere.”
“Inside the woods?”
“Behind every tree and underneath every
stone. She must have left on the opposite direction, mama.” Lydia
smiled angelically, amazed at her capacity to fool her mother. “Perhaps
she went to Aunt Phillips’s house.”
“That child will be the death of
me!” cried Mrs. Bennet. “She will be our ruin! Mr. Collins is
speaking of leaving Longbourn never to come back again. I must convince him to
stay. Oh, dear Lord, help me!” she glanced heavenwards. “How could
she be so insensible?”
“Mama,” Kitty interjected,
struggling to put on her boot, “if Lizzy does not want to marry him, you
cannot force her.”
“Of course I can. I can and I
will.” Mrs. Bennet urged her girls to stand and herded them back to the
house. “You must stay home and entertain Mr. Collins while I convince
your father to talk some sense into Lizzy’s head. You know our estate is
entailed to that man, so Lizzy is our only salvation. Your father will not live
forever and I refuse to live the rest of my life depending on my sister’s
charity. ”
The voices faded as they reached the main road
and Darcy left his post to see if it was safe to step out of their hiding spot.
Elizabeth kept
her eyes down, too embarrassed to say a word.
“So this is the reason why you were
hiding?”
She nodded quietly.
Although he found the idea of Elizabeth married to another man utterly
repulsive, Darcy could not deny the logic of Mrs. Bennet’s reasoning. If
that was the state of affairs and Longbourn was indeed entailed away to Mr.
Collins, marrying one of her daughters to this silly little man was the prudent
thing to do in this case.
“Did your father give his
consent?”
“Not yet, sir.”
“Perhaps he never will,” he stated
thoughtfully.
“You do not know my mother, sir,”
she said in between sobs. “She can be very insistent.”
Darcy offered his handkerchief so she could dry
her eyes. Her cheeks were flushed with anguish and her body trembled with
frustration. Even in front of her despair, Darcy could not but admire the
strength and determination Elizabeth
was showing in front of adversity. Not many women in her position would have
the braveness to reject a proposal that would secure their future and that of
her family. But here she was this fine lady, ready to fight the cruel
impositions of her mercenary mother and dictates of an unfair society.
“You are cold,” he said, noticing
her shivers. She was, in fact, not dressed for being outdoors in this cold day
of November.
“I am fine, sir.” Albeit she was
freezing –in her haste she failed to grab a shawl or coat-, Elizabeth would never
admit it to the gentleman. The situation was awkward enough.
“No, you are not. Here. This will
do.” Darcy removed his great coat and placed it over her shoulders.
“Thank you,” she said softly. She
had no other choice than to accept it.
The warmth of the coat offered her some
comfort, yet it was not enough to ease her distress and mortification.
Everything had been so very wrong these past days that Elizabeth could not imagine what new mishap
could possibly happen to increase her current misery. Her life fell apart with
the arrival of Mr. Collins and from then on it had been a series of unpleasant
misfortunes that culminated in a furtive meeting in the wood with a man whose arrogance
she disliked most passionately.
“I am sorry, sir,” she could not
contain herself any longer and broke into tears. “I don’t know what
to do.”
Darcy’s heart broke at the sight of her
despair, urging him to move even closer to offer some comfort to her distressed
soul. And disregarding any rule of propriety, he allowed his emotions to govern
over his judgment and brought her against him so she could rest her head on his
chest and cry at will. Momentarily forgetting who her comforter was –for
some unexplained reason he seemed to have lost his usual repulsiveness-- Elizabeth did not resist
him: in fact she willingly leaned against his heart wordlessly accepting both
his commiseration and warmth.
“You must not fear,” he reassured
her. “Things will be fine soon.”
Now calming, Elizabeth looked up at the gentleman.
“I hope so, sir. I dearly hope so. But I cannot imagine how.”
An unexpected hiccup made her jolt, provoking a
giggle from the lady and a chuckle on the gentleman.
“What must you think of
me?”
Darcy brushed his thumbs over her cheeks, his
thoughts not as clear as they had once been. Here she was, his nymph of the
woods, fragile yet fearless, defying the odds, standing so close to him that
could almost feel her breath on his lips, warming his heart in a way he had not
felt before. Her hands were on his chest surely feeling the rushed beating of
his heart. They stood, frozen in time, their eyes locked, both enchanted by the
same spell. Elizabeth’s
fingers spread over the fabric of his coat and Darcy thought his heart could
explode with the emotion.
“Elizabeth,”
her name flowed easily from his lips.
His eyes dropped to her mouth, red and inviting
and he was drawn to it like iron to an enchanted magnet. Their lips met, softly
and tentatively at first, then with increasing ardour as passion replaced
judgment, as feelings that had unconsciously been denied and repressed
overwhelmed them. Fantasies imagined on sleepless nights flooded into
Darcy’s mind and he forgot about rules, obligations or honour. He was
just a man and she was just a woman, alone in this world, moved by their most
inner desires.
But the dream ended as abruptly as it began
when Darcy was shaken awake when the lady pushed herself out of his embrace. She
stepped back, her wild face flushed, her hand on her chest, whispering an
ashamed,
“Sir, you must not...”
Darcy realized the gravity of his actions
–even though he was sure that the lady had been a willing recipient of
his attentions at some point- and apologized for his forwardness.
“I am sorry, Miss Bennet, I don’t
know what came over me, I have never done something like this
before.”
“I must return to the house,” Elizabeth said with a
shaky voice.
She returned him his coat and glanced around,
looking even more lost and fragile than when she had come. Certainly, the kiss
has perturbed her beyond measure and now she found herself in an even more
unpleasant predicament. Her choices, Darcy thought, were equally unattractive.
Either she wandered the woods alone and unprotected from men like himself or
she returned to the house to face her mother’s inquisition. And that, for
a man as proud as Darcy, was certainly a low blow that made him wonder who was
less of a gentleman, if he or the ridiculous Mr. Collins.
“Madam,” he said earnestly.
“You have the right to be offended and I offer you my sincere apology for
imposing myself on you. There is nothing I can do to change what I just did. I
can only beg for your forgiveness.”
Elizabeth nodded quietly and
hurried towards home, leaving him alone with his emotional tumult. Surely the
refined gentleman in Darcy was ashamed of his actions, but the passionate male
was still enjoying in the sweet taste of her lips against his.
The gentleman remained in his post for only a
moment, then resumed his walk back to Netherfield Park.
Unfortunately for him and Elizabeth, they weren’t alone in the grove as
they had thought they were. Mrs. Rigby and her silly daughter –the
town’s greatest gossipers-- had ventured into the woods to collect the
last mushrooms of the season. They had witnessed the entire encounter, not
missing one single detail from their hiding point behind the bushes. Mrs. Rigby
could not be happier with her fortune. Miss Elizabeth Bennet and the pompous
Mr. Darcy had just provided her with something interesting to talk about during
the rest of the year.