Summer at
Pemberley
a Jane Austen fan fiction
by Lucy
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To capture
her imagination
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If, after two full days of Lord Chiltern's presence, the
party residing at Pemberley House had gathered to form common consent regarding
said gentleman's temperament, it would have been thus: Lord Chiltern was like a
charging bull. He was, as Georgiana in particular insisted, alarming and
disquieting; and yet, his bearing was so arresting, in a savage, vigorous,
powerful manner as to be quite captivating. All agreed that wholly without
regulation as this gentleman might be, he was indisputably in possession of an
unruly charm, no small part of which was his great gift of expression. Bingley,
perhaps more than any other, was as taken as if Chiltern had been, instead of a
short, broad shouldered, unkempt adventurer, the most handsome girl at a ball.
He was impressed with Lord Chiltern in the manner a boy of ten is with a man of
one and twenty--thinking him the embodiment of a mythical manhood. On the
evening after Chiltern's appearance, Bingley had been coerced by his lordship,
with little difficulty, into a game of billiards until very late in the night.
In the gentlemen's dominion of the billiards room Chiltern told stories earthy
and audacious, although so elegant in the telling as to be almost poetic; he
possessed a Shakespearean bawdiness. Chiltern possessed, also, a worldliness
and exoticism, wrapped in the protectorate of position and fortune, that left
Bingley blinded with enthusiasmÑhe was, after all, a not especially experienced
young man only just four and twenty, whose imagination could not but be seduced
by well crafted tales of adventure in far lands. After the long and
drink-soaked night at billiards, Jane, for her part, unwilling to think ill of
anyone without just cause, was, nevertheless, somewhat undecided about the
virtues of Lord Chiltern's boisterous charm.
As the party sat down to dinner on the following evening, the
conversation fell into a similar pattern as throughout the preceding two days.
It began in a general manner, with all participating more or less as was their
wont. Before long, however, Chiltern, with his manifest ability for discourse,
had dominion over the table. He had a way of dictating the conversation and the
themes without seeming greedy or desirous of attention, and in his telling,
whether it be a story about the Argentine or an insignificant mishap in London,
he managed to draw color and light so effectively and interestingly so as to
completely absorb the attention and imagination of those around him. As had
also been the pattern, Chiltern's collaborator was Elizabeth, who interrupted
his stories with astute questions or witty asides that pushed along the tales
to new, exciting situations.
Throughout these exchanges Miss Bingley, in her new quest
to understand the elusive charms of Mrs. Darcy, regretfully acknowledged to
herself that Mrs. Darcy's eyes perhaps were not shrewish after all, but did
have a certain powerful expressiveness, particularly when she was pleased,
which, on this evening appeared to be quite continuously.
Between Lord Chiltern and Elizabeth, the table was well
entertained, with the exception of Darcy. He had two sources of unease: the
reason behind Chiltern's ill-defined presence, and his attentions toward Mrs.
Darcy. On the former concern he spent considerably less time than on the
latter, yet he did wonder if Chiltern were not involved in some intrigue and if
he were, what consequences that might bring on his house. If Darcy could not
believe Chiltern involved in anything dishonorable, he could believe him
involved in something perilous. As to the other, more important matter, Darcy
had observed with some wariness Chiltern's enthusiastic effort at courting his
wife's good opinion. Chiltern's attentions were obvious, if not at all his
intentions. All Chiltern's tales, expertly and magically crafted as they were,
he told for Elizabeth's pleasure and amusement, and when she was not
immediately present he fell into a peculiar placidity; he insinuated himself
into her walks and found himself always standing or sitting at her side. Darcy
examined his own reaction to these attentions and concluded it was not jealousy
of Elizabeth that tormented his sense of easeÑ he was not of a jealous nature,
nor had he such a lack of confidence in Elizabeth, nor such faithlessness in
her affections. Nevertheless, something in Chiltern's manner toward Elizabeth
gnawed at his tranquility.
As the evening's dinner progressed and Darcy listened to
the flow of conversation, the source of his uneasiness clarified during a
particularly unexpected moment of the discourse. Chiltern, Darcy suddenly
realized, seemed to believe that he had found in Elizabeth a fellow spirit, and
he sought to claim her as such, as if he wished to preside over her
imagination. While Chiltern's character was, in the end, opaque, and
Elizabeth's all forthrightness and clarity, Darcy acknowledged, to his profound
discomfort, in fact there was a certain fellowship of spirit, if not of
character: an effortless, frank, bountiful pleasure in life; an instinct toward
happiness and joy that he himself did not posses. Chiltern's unaffected,
gregarious manner had an affinity in Elizabeth's, and this, in conjunction with
his skilled oratory, seemed to suggest to Darcy that perhaps Chiltern could
capture her imagination in a manner he was incapable of doing. That there might
be a part of her spirit, of her imagination, that another man could affect and
he could not drove him into a state of sullen misery.
This clarity had come as the result of one innocuous
question. Elizabeth had simply asked Lord Chiltern: "Whatever possessed
you to go to the Argentine in the first place?"
Chiltern took a large sip of wine and smiled. "An
excellent question. I offer you, in return, a sort of riddle. Not a very
difficult riddle, I grant you, but a riddle nevertheless. The first
conquistadores said they went to the new world in the name of God, gold and
glory. Those are the three motivations. Which do you think then, Mrs. Darcy,
would be mine?"
Elizabeth laughed softly and replied, "I trust you
will not be unduly offended if I insist that I doubt it was for God. You do not
appear to me much of an enthusiast."
"I will not be unduly offendedÑyou would need to do
more than speak frankly to offend a fellow as imperturbable as I. What is more,
brutes such as I never do anything in the name of God and one should never be
offended by the truth. That leaves gold and glory."
"You have a perfectly charming estate here at home, I
trust?"
"I sometimes forget altogether what is mine, but I
seem to recall it was all perfectly charming when last I saw it. I gather my
steward has cared for it well enough, for I have not seen it these eight years
now, and the late Earl was hardly in health enough to care for it the last
years of his life. It could be a ruin for all I know."
"There you have it, it cannot be gold. A man who
covets gold would not be so indifferent at the thought of such ruin."
"Logical surmise, given what I have said."
"Not a very complex riddle, sir. Returning to your
trio of motivations, that leaves only glory. Did you find glory?"
"That is for you to decide. Am I glorified in the
telling of my tales?"
"Glorification is a rather unspecific concept, sir. I
suppose it depends upon your definition."
"Clearly I have failedÑglory defines itself. I remain
a mere mortal to you, then, Mrs. Darcy?"
"I suspect, sir, you remain a mere mortal to us
all," she replied, suddenly uncomfortable at being so singled out.
"Pity," he remarked. "So then," he
continued, "why go to the Argentine or any of those parts if not for the
silver or the gold, if not to convert the heathens or to glory in conquest? I
shall tell you why, Mrs. Darcy. These are places teeming with revolution, with
greed and ambition, with virtuous savages and heathenish men of God, and the
contrary as well I do not hesitate to add. The land itself is like nothing you
can imagine; nothing at all like England. Jungles so thick they are black at
noon, with flora and fauna you would claim mythological if not in front of your
own eyes and being touched by your own hands; mountains so high you are in
God's very hands. You go to the Argentine, to the Amazon, to that entire vast,
magnificent continent, for the sheer exhilaration of the soul. You will find
there an untamed society trying to form itself; bravely endeavoring to create a
new society, although it is a futile, hopeless struggle to attempt to make
something new and fresh from a place so old, so covered in blood and deception.
In that chaos there is a certain kind of freedom to be had, however, the
freedom to be simply a man."
"Freedom in chaos? I am not sure what you describe is
necessarily the most agreeable manner in which to live," she replied
skeptically.
"You are correct. It is not agreeable at all. Instead
it is stirring and passionate; profoundly satisfying." Chiltern's voice
was suddenly heaving with fervor, and his tone became disturbingly intimate and
suggestive. He leaned toward her as he spoke. "Do you never intuit, Mrs.
Darcy, that society's regulations will suffocate your very soul? Have you never
felt your thoughts compressed by the strictures of the establishment, your
opinion too large for those paltry few words sanctioned as those by which a
gentleman or a lady may rightly express themselves? Your very mind is liberated
in such a place as the Argentine. You are judged by your actions, not your
words."
Elizabeth felt the conversation had grown vaguely
inappropriate, as though he were attempting to seduce, not her person, but her
imagination. Disconcerted, she replied unsympathetically, "This is all
very dramatic in the telling, sir. I would argue, however, that whether in chaos
or order, people are always judged by their actions. Indeed, words themselves
are a form of action. As to the rest, I cannot be tempted by such sophistry. A
mind not to be changÕd by place or time; the mind is its own place, and in
itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven."
"So the lady parries with Milton." Chiltern
turned to Darcy and smiled. "Darcy, where did you say you found this
captivating lady?"
"I do not believe I told you anything in that
regard," Darcy replied frostily.
"Oh I can answer that, Lord Chiltern," Elizabeth
laughed, eager to lighten the tone of the discourse. "I am sorry to
disappoint you, but Mr. Darcy found me where most eligible gentlemen find
eligible young ladies: at a ball. So you see, there are no fierce denunciators
of society at this table."
"Excepting perhaps myself?" Chiltern inquired.
"Lord Chiltern," Darcy answered, thoroughly
troubled by the peculiar exchange, "you know very well a hostess never contradicts
her guests. You have declared yourself a savage and a scalawag; so it must be
then."
"You are a fiend, Darcy," Chiltern replied with a
robust laugh. He was impervious to the censure and found Darcy's acerbic slur
amusing.
The rest of the party, however, was not so impervious and a
lull fell over the table, at which opportunity Jane turned the conversation to
more neutral concerns, for which demonstration of grace and understanding Darcy
was silently grateful. The ladies soon left for the drawing room and as the
door closed behind them and the gentlemen were served port, Chiltern began
speaking in cheerful, affable tones. He leaned back in his chair and rubbed his
stomach in unqualified delight.
"It is fine to be back in England! What an assortment
of English roses sit around your table Darcy. Makes me want to give up on the
savage beauties altogether. Both of you gentlemen have such handsome, elegant
sisters; and your wives equally so. I must say-- no offense Bingley--Darcy has
the queen. How he won her I'll never know; severe fellow he can be and to have
won himself such a wife. What fire in those brilliant eyes and what a smile.
Such a quick mind too, and all in such a pretty face and pleasing manner."
"Yes, Lizzy is incomparable," Bingley offered
seeking to suspend Chiltern's effusion of admiration, seeing that his friend
was not taking at all kindly to his lordship's praise of his wife.
"Lizzy is it?" Lord Chiltern inquired. "Yes,
I suppose I had heard that over the past day. Lizzy! Lizzy!" He repeated
in his musical baritone. "That suits her very well."
"As does Mrs. Darcy," Darcy responded.
"Excuse me?"
Darcy directed the footman to leave the room before
answering in a taut voice: "Chiltern, I have welcomed you without question
into my home. In honor of the long association shared by our families I have
respected your privacy. I have inquired neither to your unusual arrival nor to
the intended duration of your stay, regardless of the fact that I am quite
convinced your presence can be explained only by your involvement in some
intrigue; it is as though you wish to be concealed. However, neither
consideration nor hospitality will persist should you again refer to my wife in
such informal terms as are used only by her family and most intimate friends.
You are no longer in the Argentine and you will treat my wife and every other
lady in this household with the propriety that is required in this society."
"Really, Darcy!" Chiltern scoffed in response.
"Such a temper you have!" Seeing his attitude was not appreciated, he
altered course. "I never intended to be disrespectful toward your
wife--who I openly acknowledge I have quickly come to admire--nor to any other
person in your household. I am unspeakably grateful for your hospitality and the
discretion and forbearance with which you have received me. I merely repeated
her name when Bingley here said it; that is all. I meant no offense, no
liberty."
"Mrs. Darcy and Mrs. Bingley are sisters, Chiltern.
Bingley is, therefore, my wife's brother and has in consequence privileges
which you most certainly do not, and I would have you act accordingly."
"I had no notion they were sisters. They seem so
different in character, even in person." He paused for a moment, and
smiled merrily. "So it is a family party I have imposed upon. I should
have thought I would have noticed; how uncharacteristically dull of me."
"Other guests will be arriving tomorrow," Darcy
replied, finding himself suddenly highly desirous of said arrival. The last
days had reminded him of all the reasons he had never become uncommonly
friendly with Chiltern, regardless of the frequency with which they had been
thrown together as boys and young men. He was, while indisputably clever and
charming, likewise brusque, presumptuous and in the end, little to be admired;
Darcy wished more than believed that Chiltern was still worthy of trust.
"Before we join the ladies," Darcy remarked
calmly, "I would have a word with you in private Chiltern. Bingley, would
you please excuse us?"
"Certainly, Darcy," Bingley replied, thinking
himself a little dull as well for having missed Darcy's growing animosity
towards this unexpected guest. Still more than a little deferential of Darcy's
opinions, Bingley wondered if perhaps he had been taken in by the fellow and
concluded he would attempt to judge him more critically when next they
conversed.
"Please advise Mrs. Darcy that we will join her
shortly," Darcy added as his friend stood to depart.
"Of course," Bingley mumbled as he left the room,
closing the door firmly behind him.
Chiltern poured himself more port and moved to a chair
closer to where Darcy sat at the head of the table. "What has you so
remarkably displeased Darcy, that I should have the audacity to admire your
wife? Well, grow accustomed to it quickly, my friend, any man worthy of the
appellation will find her admirable. I suppose she might be too inimitable for
some gentlemen of fashion, but I speak of men, not fops disguised as men. Not
many ladies have her combination of spirit, wit and sweetness, and all in such
a pretty face and figure. I would congratulate you on your choice but she
strikes me as the kind of lady who would not condescend to simply be
chosen."
"I believe I made it quite clear that I will not have
you speaking of my wife in such terms; that applies equally when we are
unaccompanied by others."
"I must say, while you are your father's precise
likeness, he had more verve. No, you are beginning to remind me of your uncle,
Darcy. Always so blastedly proper."
"I will take the comparison as a compliment, although
I am sure you have not offered it as such. My uncle is in all ways a man of
integrity and honor, as was your father."
"Oh yes, my revered father!" Chiltern sneered,
rolling his eyes in agitation. "Even in death his perfection hounds
me."
"Let us make this brief, Chiltern. Regardless of your
refusal to respect your father's memory, I will, to your significant advantage,
do just that. In your father's name and in deference to the long association of
the Fitzwilliam and Chiltern families you will remain a welcome guest in this
house for the time that you require a haven, providing that you refrain from
the presumptuous informality you have so continuously displayed since your
arrival and which has no place in my house."
"Back to your wife again? I meant no disrespect,
Darcy; you must know that my manners abscond from my control at times."
"Very well, you meant no disrespect. You would do
well, nevertheless, to find sufficient discipline to bring your manners under
proper regulation; I will not permit any further undue familiarity toward my
wife or any other guest in this house. What is more, although I will not
inquire into your business I must have your word of honor that you are involved
in no activity which will bring, even by association, disrepute or scandal upon
my house."
"The Darcys always were particularly careful about
maintaining the brilliant reputation of their nameÑattributing great honor and significance
to being in possession of a name universally celebrated for being so completely
unsullied."
"I have no interest in your ruminations. Do I have
your word?"
Chiltern stared at Darcy for a moment before answering.
When Chiltern had last seen him, Darcy had been just a young man firmly
restrained by the authority of a daunting father and exercising a rectitude of
behavior which Chiltern, always mutinous against his own father's authority,
had scorned as weak. Now he saw before him a gentleman in every way man and
master, a man, indeed, not to be trifled with, and Chiltern was impressed with
what he had become. "For whatever it may be worth, you have my
word."
"May you prove worthy of your father's good
name," Darcy replied harshly, as he rose from the table. "Now that we
understand each other, shall we join the others?"
"As you wish, Darcy. You are master here,"
Chiltern replied sarcastically.
"A fact I would not have you forget."
Darcy's ill humor did not abate along with the evening.
While Chiltern respected Darcy's admonition and addressed Elizabeth with an
increase in formality, his attentions were no less marked. Unable to maintain
his temper, Darcy walked out onto the terrace; Jane soon joined him. She stood
next to him for a moment, while the sounds of conversation filtered out into
the night air.
"Such a delightful evening, is it not, Mr.
Darcy?" Jane inquired after a time.
"The night sky is certainly lovely, at any rate."
Jane observed Darcy's face as he fixedly looked out into the
night. He remained very much a mystery to her, yet, as her sister's husband and
her husband's steady friend, she could not but think well of him, indeed
dearly. She knew him to be honorable, generous and loyal and did not need to
delve deeper to appreciate him for who he was. He appeared displeased and she
suspected the cause. Wondering at her sister's lack of perception of the same
she justified her instead by crediting her responsibilities as hostess.
Nevertheless, she did suspect that Lizzy was simply indulging, perhaps unwisely
and too excess, as their father was wont to do, in the amusement she found in
studying original characters.
"Lizzy tells me the remainder of your guests arrive
tomorrow."
"Yes." Darcy responded neutrally. "There
will be only five. I do not believe the Thorneys will be bringing that young
painter after all. I am sure you will find them agreeable. You have of course
made the acquaintance of the Ashtons and Sir Patrick MacLaighid while staying
with us in London this past winter."
"Yes, of course," she replied. They continued for
a moment in silence, until Jane added in her customarily serene voice, "It
has been an agreeably intimate party. I suppose come tomorrow you and my sister
will have little time for such marked attentions as have been our pleasure
these last days."
Darcy turned to Jane to attempt to gauge her meaning, but
the moon was not out and the terrace had only two torches lit, so he could not
see her face. "I suppose not," he responded.
"Sometimes a multitude of distractions is for the
best, Mr. Darcy." Darcy smiled, her meaning now clear. Feeling foolish at
Jane's tactfully expressed assurance that certain unwanted attentions would
necessarily abate with the expansion of their party, he could, nevertheless, do
nothing to conquer the feeling of displeasure that was gnawing at his calm.
"It is growing chilly," she remarked at last, "I think I shall
return indoors."
As she did so Darcy considered what a perfect lady she was.
When he had first known her, and even right through the period of courtship and
the day of their double wedding, he had not understood either Elizabeth's
devotion or Bingley's love. Privately, she had seemed to him entirely
uninteresting, not too clever, overly obliging and impossibly good. While he
continued to find her overly obliging, she was every day increasing in his
admiration and regard, and he detected now the strength within her serenity and
the wisdom within her goodness. He was as amazed that she should be the daughter
of Mrs. Bennet as he was that his own Elizabeth should be. He still often
wondered how two such excellent ladies could come from that household of
madness and indolence.
He recalled one evening, a few days before the wedding, he
and Bingley were returning to Netherfield after a particularly awkward dinner
party at Longbourn, when Darcy had made a similar observation to Bingley:
"How two such women come from that family I shall never comprehend."
Bingley had simply replied: "Did it never occur to
you, Darcy, that perhaps they are as they are precisely because they come from such a
family?"
"Are you suggesting that I ought to be thankful that
we are to have for a mother-in-law an undeniably preposterous creature and for
sisters-in-law 'three of the silliest girls in England', as our very singular
father-in-law himself so unabashedly proclaims?"
"Perhaps."
"Perhaps? Perhaps, Bingley, you have had too much wine
this evening." Bingley had only laughed in response.
Upon Darcy's returning to the drawing room, Bingley
suggested that the three gentlemen play some billiards. With no particular
desire to play, but happy to have the opportunity to remove Chiltern from
Elizabeth's company, Darcy agreed. They played for some time, and when Darcy
retired to their rooms he assumed Elizabeth to be sleeping. Restless, he did
not immediately retire.
Elizabeth, having heard his return, rose from bed, donned a
robe and walked through their rooms to find Darcy standing at the large window
in the master's chamber. In a light summer robe of deep blue, his arm raised
above his head and resting against the window frame, he gazed absently into the
night. As she quietly approached him she noticed how his robe fell against his
figure and contoured his muscular and long frame, a now familiar admiration of
his form warmed her senses. Elizabeth recalled the first time she had seen him
thus attired and her subsequent embarrassed, blushing admission. His unexpected
splendor had enthralled her and as he had approached her across the room, she
had fallen silent, captivated by the graceful strength of his barely covered
figure. Coaxing her with gentle words and tender attentions he had won from her
a confession; unable to express all she was feeling and thinking, she had
finally blurted out, inelegantly, that she had not anticipated finding him so
'very appealing'. He had been delighted by her confession, and charmed by the
slightly ironic and shy expression of the same. Now she knew that figure
intimately and could see from his bearing that it was infused with
tension.
She walked to the window and leaned against the opposite
side of the frame and looked up at him. His features were set in an expression
easily mistaken for aloofness, but which she had come to recognize as that which
settled upon him when he was battling some unwelcome emotion or thought. She
was overcome with a desire to see him smile; he had such a beautiful smile.
"You did not enjoy yourself this evening," she
remarked.
"Unlike you."
"I suppose it was a diverting evening, on the whole.
Lord Chiltern can be amusing."
"You have always enjoyed the company of men who are
easy in society." Darcy's tone was slightly hostile.
Responding more to his tone than his words, Elizabeth
replied, "I do not think I like the insinuation you have made."
"I have made no insinuation. I am not surprised you
should enjoy Chiltern's company. You have always enjoyed the company of men
like that."
"Men like that?" She inquired incredulously.
"Yes. Men who can spin tales with ease; you delight in
the dexterity of their charm," he answered caustically.
"What has you so out of sorts? Have I in some way
angered you?"
"Not at all."
"You are acting very strange this evening, very cold
and I do not understand." He did not reply, and continued to look out into
the night in silence; indeed, she reflected that he had been unusually sullen
the entire day. Elizabeth stepped near him and placed her hand against his
chest. "My love, what is it? I grow uneasy now." Her voice was soft
and beseeching.
Darcy turned from the window and looked at her: she wore a
diaphanous summer robe under which he could see the gentle slope of her
shoulders and the sensuous rise of her bosom; her hair was loose and its dark
abundance framed her lovely face; her eyes, always filled with light and mirth,
were pools of unease. He thought it impossible to love her any more than he
did, but she need only look at him as she did nowÑwith tenderness, devotion,
concern--and he found some new font of emotion bursting forth within his heart.
She simply filled his soul in a manner he never knew was possible, and he felt
for her emotions of an intensity and richness he had once thought existing
solely in poets' imaginations. Yet here he was, passionately, powerlessly hers.
As he looked into her eyes he understood that regardless of how intimate they
wereÑconfiding, sharing, touching, loving always with unrestrained candor, with
abandon, even--a part of her remained always elusive to his reach. He comprehended
he was indeed overcome with a fearsome jealousy at the idea that ChilternÑthat
short, unkempt, singular creature of the wild--could reach her thoughts in some
way he could not. He placed his hand over hers and wrapped his fingers around
her handÑfinding immense pleasure simply in the soft, coolness of her skin.
Beneath his own, she turned her hand over and returned the grasp.
"You will think me ridiculous."
"I would rather think you ridiculous than angry."
"I do not like the manner in which Chiltern behaves
with you."
"He is unguarded, to be sure, but he has done nothing
improper."
"He is too focused on you. Charming you with his ease
and his elegantly crafted stories. Each smile he wins from you only redoubles
his efforts. I do not like it and I do not trust him."
"Well then let us settle this, shall we?" she
replied, relieved by his apparent confession of jealousy. She had not expected
it from him at all. "I too have learned lessons from the past. Earlier you
said I enjoy the company of men who are easy in company."
"I did not mean what you think. I meant gentlemen like
Bingley or my cousin. You must know I meant no injury against your
character."
"May I finish?" Darcy nodded. "While Bingley
and the Colonel are similar men, I would categorize Lord Chiltern more in the
making of others."
"Others?"
"Men who are undeniably skilled in captivating
strangers, easy in company and often welcome for no other reason than the
'dexterity of their charm', but who use that charm for purposes other than pure
amiability. Men--for they are rarely gentlemen--who, in the end, are little to
be trusted. Lord Chiltern is, nevertheless, a guest in our home, and I will not
be rude or unwelcoming. However, I will tell you frankly, I do not trust him.
He has an insinuating familiarity which I learned some time ago to mistrust.
Whether I trust him or not, however, as our guest I can attend to him in the
only manner I am able, as myself. My nature is what it is, and you cannot expect
it to be otherwise. I will laugh at well-wrought stories and delight in
intelligent discourse. I will be amiable when I have no cause to be otherwise.
Surely, this is no reason to castigate me or make unjust insinuations."
"You do find my concern ridiculous, then?"
Elizabeth did not respond, she merely tilted her head and smiled skeptically.
"Sir Patrick arrives tomorrow," Darcy added disjointedly.
"Perhaps he can enlighten us further as to Chiltern's recent adventures.
He has connections in the foreign office. I never knew Chiltern to be
dishonorable, but know not what to think now. Perhaps I shall ask him to
depart."
"That is entirely up to you."
"You are not satisfied with my explanation, I
see."
"I did not think you had so little trust in my judgment."
"It is not your judgment I do not trust, it is
Chiltern's intentions." She made no response. "You are displeased
with me?"
"A little."
Darcy laughed softly at her words.
"Why do you laugh, when I tell you I am
displeased?" she inquired.
"I never cared before in the slightest if anyone was
displeased with me. If I acted with honor I thought any consequent displeasure
was simply to be borne. But with you, I cannot have it so. I cannot bear to
have your beautiful eyes look to me with anything but love and happiness and
pleasure." Feeling suddenly the foolishness of his jealousy, he continued
in a tone filled with contrition. "I have been such an ill-tempered boor
since Chiltern arrived. I had this silly notion, Elizabeth, that he recognized
in you some fellow spirit, that he could please you in a manner I
cannot."
Elizabeth lifted her hand and pressed a finger against his
lips. "Not a word more," she said. She then simply watched him
watching her and she was, as was her wont, overcome by the manner in which he
looked at her; the devotion, the tenderness and passion she saw therein set her
aglow, and sensations she had never imagined as a maiden, these wondrous,
private, secret, intimate feelings they shared, washed over her.
"Why do you look at me so?" he asked.
"Do you recall the day we went on a picnic to
Cranston's lake?" Darcy nodded, a little confused by the direction of her
thoughts. "That morning you told me that I fascinated you. Do you think
you are alone? Fitzwilliam Darcy, you have captured my imagination in ways I
never dreamt possible."
"You could not have chosen another word to give
greater balm to my foolish heart."
Darcy smiled and as she beheld his smile, the desire, the
need to touch him engulfed her. Bold, frank, unashamed as was the manner in
which she loved him, she reached her arms around his neck and pressed against
him; in a soft, tender tone, she said, "Take me to your bed,
Fitzwilliam."
"My precious wife!" he whispered. "No wish
could be more easily granted."
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Austen Interlude Author Directory