When So Much Beauty is Before You

7/27/2019 When So Much Beauty is Before You

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When So Much Beauty Is Before You...

Whilst Sir William Lucas, the host of the party, put himself out to impose

Elizabeth upon Mr. Darcy, rambling on as he did so about her beauty and

desirability as a dance partner, a seemingly bored Mr. Darcy observed the

tableau in front of him in complete silence. He listened with only one ear,

and his countenance expressed perfect indifference. However, this was but

appearance. Mr. Darcy was not bored, not in the very least! One aspect of

Miss Elizabeth Bennet's pleasing figure had drawn his full attention: the

alluring sight of her low neckline. Her decolletage was a little too daring to

be called proper in polite society, he imagined, but utterly tolerable to

observe indeed. Mr. Darcy assumed that this was quite acceptable in the

less polished society to which Meryton belonged. After all, in this small

country town in Hertfordshire it was obvious that savagery had not yet fully

developed into civilization.

Admittedly, he would not want his sister Georgiana to make such an

exhibition of that particular aspect of her womanly form. But, though a manof principle, he was quite comfortable with the realization that as far as

Miss Elizabeth's manner of dress was concerned, he most certainly did not

loathe that on which his eyes did feast. Her half exposed, milky white

bosom made his heart pound faster whilst a pleasant warmth rose from the

lower parts of his body to end just beneath the lower jaw, resting on his

impeccably white neck cloth. And thus, thanks to this skilfully tied cravat,

his excitement was, to his great relief, not visible to Miss Elizabeth's fine

eyes. From her neckline his eyes wandered towards her mouth and he

focused on the movements of her lips from which the following wordsescaped: "Indeed, Sir, I have not the least intention to dancing. - I entreat

you not to suppose that I moved this way in order to beg for a partner."

Awakened from this reverie as he became aware of Miss Bennet's pert

voice, he thought this is all very vexing. Now I am obliged to ask her to

dance! Such a compliment I would prefer not to pay to any place if I can

help it, as I told Sir Lucas moments ago. But it would be exceedingly

impolite if I did not. Even within the confinement of this society, I cannot

be so offensive as to slight her, nor can I offend her by ignoring Sir Lucas'sobservation on the impossibility of objecting to a partner such as her. It is


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rather confusing though that she does not wish to dance, since she seemed

to take so much pleasure in it at that appalling assembly. Well, after all, she

is tolerable, perhaps even a little more than that and, although I am not

really tempted, I can imagine worse things happening to me. At least it will

save me from having to converse with Caroline Bingley for at least half anhour.

"Miss Bennet, I would be honoured if you accept to dance with me," he

finally spoke with grave propriety when Sir Lucas had exhausted his

profuse compliments to her.

"I thank you, no, Mr. Darcy I am not inclined to dance. I beg you excuse

me," replied she and she turned away from the gentlemen to seek the

company of the officers in a different corner of the room.

And whilst he thanked his good fortune that he was spared the humiliation

of dancing amongst low rank officers and Miss Elizabeth's vulgar younger

sisters, he noticed to his great surprise that Miss Bennet's unexpected

refusal to dance with him amused, rather than insulted him. So she was not

inclined to dance! Not even with him, Mr. Darcy of Pemberley, the most

eligible bachelor in the country? Apparently that was not enough

inducement to her. He could not help but chuckle, and whilst watching in

admiration this frank young gentleman's daughter from Hertfordshire, he

suddenly felt an unpleasant draught on his neck.

This current of air was occasioned by Miss Bingley's breath, for she had

chosen to position herself without a sound behind him and commenced

complaining about the tediousness of the party, presuming that he shared

her considerations. Discreetly moving his head and the rest of his body

away from the unpleasant sensation her breath provoked on his neck, he

thought Have you any idea, Miss Caroline Bingley, how tedious and

insupportable you are yourself? but instead he replied politely: "I should

imagine not. My mind was more agreeably engaged."

Intently looking at the pretty woman who but moments ago had made it

clear to him that she was not impressed by him at all, he continued: "I have

been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the

face of a pretty woman can bestow."

After learning whose eyes had inspired such reflections, Miss Bingley,

astonished, disappointed and excessively jealous, began to make sport of his

future felicity in marriage in a tone that betrayed a melange of sarcasm and

grief. However, her brother's friend either did not care or entirely failed tonotice. Slightly vexed or perhaps a little envious, he mused: Miss Bennet


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seems to prefer the company of officers to that of a gentleman. Singular!

But what can one expect from a country upstart? I most definitely must put

her fine eyes, her light and pleasing figure and her bosom (where a man's

eye could feast on forever) out of my mind at once...

Here Mr. Darcy stopped in order to keep further indiscreet thoughts of Miss

Bennet, as well as his wounded pride, under good regulation. With a tinge

of regret in his voice he whispered to himself: "I dare say, if it were not for

the inferiority of her relations, I would be very happy to have so much

beauty before me for an indefinite period of time..."

On Welcome Intelligence and Conflicting Emotions

Keep this in mind, old boy, it is a truth universally acknowledged that a

handsome young woman, however great her wit, however intoxicating her

smell, however seductive her mouth, however fine her eyes, and however

light and pleasing her figure is now, will eventually alter into her mother.

Hoping, rather than believing that this thought should help him get over his

attraction towards Miss Elizabeth Bennet, Mr. Darcy retired to Netherfield'spoorly equipped library in order to read and distract his uneasy mind.

However, a quick glance over the shelves shewed him that he had read all

the books present. And so, he left the collection for what it was and made

himself comfortable in one of the armchairs after pouring a glass of brandy,

of which he took a first eager sip.

Admittedly, the fact that the object of his musings had departed for

Longbourn left a feeling of emptiness in his heart, but the mere

announcement of her departure had been welcome intelligence indeed, andenough reason for him to rejoice. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had drawn his

attention in too far-reaching a manner and his immediate object was to

conquer his infatuation for this highly unsuitable, though handsome and

intelligent, young woman. It was time to concentrate on more important

matters.

Darcy had been both embarrassed and intrigued by the manner in which she

had defied him. He was embarrassed by his pathetic ripostes to her

provocations

during their late night sparring, and intrigued because he never before had a


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discussion of that particular kind with a person of the opposite sex. She was

an

accomplished master of debate, to be sure: a trait he had not previously

encountered in a woman. She was captivating, indeed. Another astonishing

noveltywas the fact that her expressed opinions were hardly ever in accordance

with his. Had she wilfully uttered opinions that were not her own in order to

vex him? Or was she indeed of a completely different mind than he? The

young ladies of his acquaintance always agreed with every word he said!

He was not certain whether he liked the fact that Miss Elizabeth did not,

and that she made no attempt to please him. Truth be told, he would have

liked it if she had. This was rather confusing: why would he wish her to

please him? Why would he want her to be impressed by him? Did he not

despise the ostentatious exposure of approval the young ladies of the ton so

often displayed towards his person? Miss Bennet was a country nobody; in

fact, she was a country nobody who had bested him in a discussion: a fact

that he was loathed to admit, least of all to himself.

Pouring another glass, Mr. Darcy frowned, whispering softly: "Upon my

word, old sport, you cannot defend yourself here. Indeed, you made a

complete fool of yourself."

He remembered his words: 'Where there is a real superiority of mind, pride

willalways be under good regulation...' and felt utterly embarrassed by their

presumptuous connotation. Mr. Darcy wondered why she had made him

feel so

ludicrous, so maladroit, so very inept. In his mind he was again confronted

with

the arch look on her face, the barely suppressed smile on her lips... I truly

wonder why I let myself fall so easily into her very obvious trap! He mused

rancorously. Her sarcasm had cut him to the heart: 'I am perfectly

convinced that Mr. Darcy has no defect. He owns it himself withoutdisguise.' Indeed, Darcy, what a great superiority of mind upon which you

can boast. I congratulate you! He reproached himself with scorn.

Leaning backwards in his armchair and absentmindedly taking another

substantial

draught, Mr. Darcy closed his eyes as if in pain. Loosening his cravat and

unbuttoning his waistcoat, he stood up from his chair and commenced

pacing the room in an agitated manner. Then he flopped into his chair again,

ignoring the drops of brandy carelessly spilled on his shirt. Banishing hisprevious reproachful thoughts, he fumed This country upstart, a daughter of


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a poor gentleman with no connections, with relations so decidedly beneath

my own, has dared ridicule me, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley, landlord

and master of one of the most prestigious estates in England, a man of sense

and education! Teasing woman! Her pert manner of address and expression

is most indecorous. I must endeavour to forget her entirely.

Alas, it was not to be. The more Mr. Darcy attempted not to think of her,

the more Miss Elizabeth Bennet intruded upon his thoughts. Whilst

attempting to find fault in every aspect of her person, to his chagrin the

opposite happened: he took pleasure in remembering her bell-like laughter,

her clear voice as yet again a clever observation escaped her alluring rosy

lips; her bright eyes, and her tastefully simple gowns that so beautifully

hugged the curves of her seductive figure...

You know not, dear reader, you cannot conceive what it signified for Mr.

Darcy to admit that he did not have his own composure under good

regulation. Mr. Darcy, whose study of life was to avoid those weaknesses

which often exposed a strong understanding to ridicule, had never been so

bewitched by a woman before, Poor Mr. Darcy, the agonies he suffered in

Netherfield's pitiful library were well nigh unbearable, and the tumult of his

mind was painfully great, resulting in conflicting emotions that made him

tuck away one brandy too many. He finally managed to reach his chambers,

albeit unsteadily, and falling on his bed fully dressed, he whispered: "Miss

Bennet, you must allow me to tell you how ardently I..."

Alas, esteemed reader, the sentence remained unfinished. An undignified

snore

could lead to but one conclusion: Mr. Darcy had fallen asleep.

George Wickham's Sweet Revenge

Good Lord, this cannot be true! Darcy of all men, in Hertfordshire? What

business could he possibly have here? Surely, there must be an important

reason for his presence in this tedious part of the country. I dare say this is

not exactly the society he would seek voluntarily: far too little refined for

his taste, if you ask me. Who is his companion? I do not recall ever meeting

him before.

This jumble of thoughts and impressions filled the head of George

Wickham, who had grown pale with trepidation when, shortly after making


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the acquaintance of the Longbourn party, had discovered whose form was

gracing the back of the fine black stallion before him. Who but a man

Wickham would much rather never have met again? Fate had obviously

decided otherwise. Judging by the gentleman's countenance, which had

turned red with indignation, it was quite clear to Wickham that Darcy feltvery much the same.

Quickly regaining his composure and producing a faint, though sly smile,

Mr. Wickham lightly touched his hat in salutation. He found himself

amused to see Darcy attempt in vain to avoid casting an admiring, though

somewhat disappointed glance at Elizabeth Bennet. Darcy deigned not to

look at him again before he silently continued on his way without his friend,

who had dismounted to enquire after an angel's health.

Painfully mindful that Darcy knew his true character, Wickham dreaded for

but a moment that Meryton would learn through him that his own engaging

manners and charming countenance were quite in contrast with a cunning

and deceitful disposition. However, he almost immediately put this fear to

rest, knowing as he did that Darcy would never disrupt the silence for fear

of compromising a loved one.

Since Wickham could not afford to be caught in his usual practice of telling

lies and achieving his goals by applying many an art and allurement, he was

used to being always on his guard. Through the years he had developed aparticular perceptiveness for other people's emotions that were not

necessarily expressed in words. So, Darcy's appreciative glance at Miss

Elizabeth Bennet had not escaped his notice. As Wickham had a bone to

pick with Darcy for having thwarted one of his most brilliant plans lately,

one that could have solved all his pecuniary problems, he immediately

commenced putting one and one together.

Aha, the proud and pompous master of Pemberley seems to have taken a

fancy to this country girl! This is intelligence I can turn to my advantageindeed. Ah Darcy, as you well know, old boy, I have but three ambitions in

life: seduce as many women as I can, marry rich in order to lead a life of

leisure, and revenge myself on you, and not necessarily in that order. So, I

am exceedingly obliged to you for having provided me with the perfect

opportunity to attain at least two of these goals. How very fortunate to have

a mutual new acquaintance of the fair sex in whom you seem to be quite

interested. Wickham chuckled inwardly, whilst his resentful heart almost

skipped a beat with joy and his scheming mind commenced working out

stratagems to discredit Darcy's reputation with the winsome MissElizabeth.


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Wickham's hatred for Darcy was most profound, and the unexpected

confrontation almost made him physically ill. Being the son of the former

estate's steward he and Darcy grew up together as boys. Wickham had

never been able to accept the fact that his own station in life was sodecidedly beneath his companion's. The indulgent attitude of his mother,

who herself felt frustrated by her humble position in life, had aggravated his

innate weakness of character, making him idle, deceitful and dissolute.

However much he succeeded in hiding his real nature from the Darcys, it

did not take many years before the young Darcy saw through him. The

rightness of the latter's judgment would, alas, culminate in a most painful

event of which he would undoubtedly prefer not to be reminded.

As scruples were foreign to Wickham, a wicked scheme soon formed in his

head that would, he imagined, strike Darcy at the very core of his being.

Cheerfully conversing with the second eldest Miss Bennet, he pondered: If

indeed Darcy has taken a fancy to this attractive girl, I must see to it that I

have her first. Judging from her smiles, it will neither be difficult, nor a

punishment for me. After all, what man of healthy appetites could object to

having an alluring damsel such as Elizabeth Bennet in his arms?

Looking down on Miss Elizabeth's spencer, he wondered what he would

find underneath. He imagined assisting her in unlacing her corset and

revealing the secrets of a body that had yet to be touched by the hands ofman. Smiling deviously, Mr. Wickham revelled in the prospect of bedding a

bucolic virgin, whilst breathing in her fragrance of wild flowers and freshly

mowed hay. Indeed, he took malicious delight in this exquisite opportunity

to turn the tables on the object of his hatred, and thought that this encounter

was perhaps not so ill fated after all.

After taking his leave from the Bennet sisters and their cousin, Mr.

Wickham continued his rancorous musings: The girl is mine, Darcy, and

this time there will be nothing that you or your ten thousand a year can doto prevent me from achieving my objective. I am confident that Providence

-- previously so ill-disposed toward me as to save your family from scandal

-- will now grant me sweet revenge. I assure you: this wild rose, who is

longing to be plucked, soon will be, by me, while I make you, her admirer,

the laughing stock of this community.

Involuntarily a demonic, hollow laugh escaped his throat, resulting in many

a puzzled look on the faces of those walking by on Meryton's main street.

You do not know what I suffer


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"Hill! Oh, Hill! Where are you, Hill? Why are you never there when I need

you? Bring my tea now. Have you no compassion on my poor nerves?"

After ringing the bell a second time with the last strength she could muster,

enforcing the sound of it with her piercing voice, a very low-spirited Mrs.Bennet fell back on the pillows of her bed, groaning and grumbling.

Poor Mrs. Bennet. What agonies she suffered. Indeed, every single soul

who witnessed the manner in which she amused herself the previous night

did not need much imagination to comprehend how she felt.

When she awoke the morning following the Netherfield Ball, Mrs. Bennet

was quite ill. Her stomach was utterly upset and ached as if it had received a

violent punch, her limbs felt numb and her hands were shaking. She could

scarcely lift her arm to protect her excessively sensitive eyes against the

rays of the autumn sun that were so bold as

to shine through the chink between the curtains. And her head! Oh, her

poor, poor head: the headache she was suffering was well nigh unbearable.

She attempted to moisten her lips, but her tongue was dry as parchment, and

she noticed with disgust the foul taste in her mouth. With a glance at her

chamber pot, her stomach clenched and she remembered briefly the delicate

white soup, roasted chicken, cold ham

and exquisite red wine she had enjoyed abundantly at the ball.

Pray, do not think of food or wine now, it will make things worse. Mrs.

Bennet warned herself. My goodness. Considering the state I am in now, I

would most happily assign Longbourn to Mr. Collins in exchange for a drop

of laudanum, a strong hot cup of tea and some fresh air!

"Hi..iill, where are you?" She uttered feebly a third time.

Mrs. Bennet had never felt so awful in all her life and could not but admitfor once that it was the result of her own doings: she knew very well that

she, against her better judgement, had overindulged in the intoxicating

beverages and tempting dishes offered by the elegant Netherfield hosts.

Indeed, I had a drop or two too much. But is that reason enough for such a

severe punishment? Good Lord, I would rather give birth to a child than be

in the state I am in now! Upon my word, I will never touch a glass of wine

again!

Whilst revelling in her current agonies, the events of the previous evening


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slowly came back to her. In spite of her flutterings, palpitations, nausea and

excrutiating headache, she managed a faint smile. It had been such an

enjoyable, entertaining evening and she was so proud of her family,

including Mr. Collins, who conversed with Mr. Darcy in a most civil

manner. Indeed, they all made such a favourable impression on theNetherfield party. Jane was so admired by Mr. Bingley. He danced at least

three dances with her and could not keep his eyes from her. Mrs. Bennet

was confident that he indeed favoured

her above every other girl in the neighbourhood and was convinced that it

would not be long before a certain desirable event took place.

Another, quite astonishing occurrence of the evening, which caused the

amazement of the entire room, was that Mr. Darcy stood up with her Lizzy.

Initially she was quite vexed that Lizzy had not refused that proud,

disagreeable man. However, the looks on the faces of Lady Lucas and Mrs.

Long, in which one could read a mixture of envy and

admiration, had not escaped her notice. That had made her so happy. Last

but not least, Lydia and Kitty danced every dance, and Mary sung

beautifully. Mrs. Bennet unconsciously whispered the words: "Cometh

breathe over thee?"

Indeed the warm applause Mary received was very well deserved. It was

most ungracious of Mr. Bennet to prevent her from singing another song.

Ah well, I should have known: he always takes delight in vexing us.Teasing, teasing man. Mrs. Bennet mused resignedly.

As far as Mrs. Bennet was concerned, the evening had not lasted long

enough. Thus, it was hardly surprising that the Bennets left the premises

long after all the other guests had done so. Whilst finally taking their leave

of the Netherfield party -- whose faces spoke volumes -- Mrs. Bennet had

been too far gone to notice the embarrassment of her husband and two

eldest daughters. If she had, she probably would not have cared. Quite

euphoric in her intoxicated condition, she shouted out loud with a thicktongue her high hopes for her daughters to marry rich men and exclaimed

what an agreeable,

obliging man Mr. Bingley was, how charming his sisters were and how

sensible a young man Mr. Collins was.

Because of her unsteady walk, her husband and eldest daughter had to

support her on their descent from the main entrance of Netherfield Park,

which was, even in the case of Mrs. Bennet, whose want of propriety was

notorious in the vicinity of Meryton, a most indecorous sight. Small wonderthen that her husband heaved a sigh of relief when


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he finally managed to literally push her into the carriage and close the door,

rendering her unfortunate utterances out of earshot of the Netherfield party.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Wiping her forehead with a handkerchief drenched in lavender, Mrs. Bennet

pondered contently: I wager that this ball will turn out as the most fortunate

of events. Mr. Bingley and Jane will marry as will Mr. Collins and Lizzy,

Lydia and Kitty will undoubtedly live happily ever after each with one of

the officers and Mary will remain at home to

take care of her mother. My future is finally secure.

Whilst Mrs. Bennet gave free reign to her musings, leaving Mr. Bennet

entirely out of consideration, Hill entered her mistress's chamber to bring

her her morning tea. Regaining her usual histrionic self, she said: "Ah, Hill,

there you are. You do not know what I suffer?"


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Charles Bingley's dashed expectations


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Sprawled in one of the comfortable leather armchairs of his London club,

Charles Bingley absentmindedly stared into the tumbler of brandy he was

enjoying, ignoring the idle talk of the other gentlemen boasting of their

latest amorous conquests and various other 'sports' in which they excelled.

He loathed the disrespectful manner in which his friends discussed the

young women of their acquaintance. Admittedly, he had not been very

different from them in the not so distant past. He had been in love, or so he

had thought himself to be, many times, but after umm... a 'dance' or two

with the object of his passion in a private room well away from the

ballroom, his admiration always decreased rapidly and the fluttering

sensation in his stomach that he felt upon seeing or thinking of the lady in

question simply ceased. Often enough the expression out of sight, out of

mind appeared to be quite appropriate. Not this time though - not since he

had met Miss Jane Bennet of Longbourn, Hertfordshire. From the very

beginning of their acquaintance at the Assembly hall in Meryton, this

angelic young woman had dominated his thoughts.

Upon his word, she was the most beautiful creature he had ever beheld and

whenever he thought of Miss Bennet -- which was almost constantly the

case -- he forgot entirely the real world surrounding him. In his head he

could still hear the soft sound of her voice coming from her sensitive

mouth. He remembered the becoming blush that appeared on her cheeks

and how modestly she had cast down her fine eyes when he smiled at her.He enjoyed the memory of her uncommonly pleasing figure. He so longed

to unpin her golden hair; it had seemed soft as satin. Her natural scent

mingled with the subtlest hint of lavender almost drove him wild with

desire and had made him dislike even more the perfumes with which his

sisters so abundantly sprinkled themselves. Inadvertently he sniffed the air,

as if it would help him to recall the fragrance better.

The time she had spent at Netherfield had been sheer torture: to have her

under his roof for so many days had given rise to dreams from which he hadawakened exceedingly aroused and bathed in sweat. When, on the other

hand, he was unable to get to sleep he had tossed and turned and had been

in some pain not to slip inside her bedchamber to seek sweet oblivion in the

softness of her arms. Bingley chuckled at the thought As if she would ever

have permitted me to enter her room at night!

Bingley gradually became aware of the fact that he was not alone in his

club, and noticing the puzzled glances cast at him by his friends, he sighed

deeply and, slightly embarrassed, said: "Pardon me, old chaps, a privatejoke. Pray, pay no attention to me. Please go on, I am listening."


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She had given him the impression of being completely earnest, guileless

and artless, so very refreshing in comparison with the ladies of the ton he

knew. He was convinced that she had received his attentions with pleasure

and had returned his affection with sincere, if not equal regard. At least, hehad believed this to be true.

Alas, that did not seem to be the case, at least according to his best friend,

on whose judgement he relied. How could he have been so mistaken? Since

Darcy had informed him a month ago of his own belief in Miss Bennet's

indifference towards his person, he had had no choice but to face the cruel

truth: she did not love him as he did her.

It had seemed so crystal clear to him: she was the woman of his dreams. But

a dream she will remain. I will not be given a chance to show her my deep

devotion, nor will I ever know the joys of love she could give to me. My

life might as well end here and now; I would not know of another way to

forget her. He thought dramatically, taking

another sip from his brandy.

Heartily endorsed by his sisters, Darcy had told him the pitiless intelligence

regarding the lack of Miss Bennet's feelings for him.

"Pray, Charles," he had said, "Miss Bennet is a kind, cheerful young

woman, but you must forget her. She liked your society and most of her

smiles were addressed to you, I grant you that. But upon my honour, as far

as I could perceive, the serenity of her air and countenance were such as

might have given the most acute observer a conviction that her heart was

unlikely to be easily touched."

Bingley was quite surprised that he remembered Darcy's well-turned phrase

so accurately after the couple of brandies he had tossed down, but thenagain, these words had affected him deeply, nay, had shocked him. The

message kept ringing in his ears. He had not expected this in the very least.

He remembered the ball: the dances he had danced with her had felt divine,

as if they presaged the perfect match that he and she would make. Her quiet

elegance, her fluid movements, had enchanted him. Her soft humming

whilst listening to the music had been so charming, as if she was in a world

of her own. The feel of her hand in his had coaxed shivers of sheer delight

down his spine. Whilst partaking of the white soup, she had given him so

much opportunity to speak of his own concerns and interests. She was sucha good listener. She did not rattle on like the other young ladies of his


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acquaintance. Indeed she did not talk much at all, but, upon his word, he

had sensed that she held him in high regard. The manner in which she had

looked him in the eye had been agonisingly sweet.

"Darcy, are you certain, absolutely certain? The impression she made withme is so different. Did I truly see more in her countenance than there was,

because I wished to do so?" He had asked, his voice broken with grief and

regret.

"Oh yes, I am certain, most definitely. I dare say your perspective is umm...

a little muddled, Charles, which is understandable. I have seen you in love

many times before, and as many times you were either disappointed or

indifferent in the end. However understandable that you wish your regard

for the said lady reciprocated, I most strongly urge you to not deceive

yourself, my friend."

"Darcy, I know you are never wrong, but did you, by any chance, take her

poor and -- in your view undoubtedly objectionable -- relations into

account? If that be the case, you must know that I do not care about them,

not in the very least. And, if she would love me like I do her, we would be

perfect for each other."

"Admittedly, Charles, there are certain other evils for such a choice," Darcy

had replied, "The family's want of propriety is appalling, except for theobject of your affection and the second eldest Miss Bennet. Their behaviour

is beyond any rebuke. But, you must trust me: all indications lead me to

believe most strongly that her indifference towards your person is most

definitely based on impartial conviction regarding her feelings alone. Apart

from that, do you not agree that 'love' is too strong a term here? You have

known the young lady but a few weeks! I most fervently advise you not to

return to Hertfordshire."

"You must be right, Darcy, you always are, are you not?" Bingley hadreplied most sadly, "I will do my best to forget her and will not return to

Hertfordshire. What else is there for me to do? If I cannot rely on your

judgement, on whose should I rely then?"

"On your own, perhaps?" Suggested a little voice in his head, which

unfortunately was too soft for him to hear over the raucous laughter of his

friends enjoying another joke at a lady's expense.


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Nocturnal Torments

... I shall endeavour to find some opportunity of putting this letter in your

hands in the course of morning. I will only add, God bless you. Fitzwilliam

Darcy

When Mr. Darcy signed his letter to Elizabeth Bennet he was utterly and

completely exhausted. His right hand felt numb, his body cold and his mind

empty... but he did not care. It did not signify that he had not slept all night;

In fact, he cared not for anything but the woman who seemed to be lost tohim forever. Her lovely face haunted him; her

fine eyes, her rosy cheeks, her red lips, her sweet smile... Softly he let her

name flow over his lips: Elizabeth, Lizzy, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth.

This handsome, intelligent woman, who kept him awake night after night,

the one who aroused feelings in him he never knew existed, hated him and

refused quite decidedly the offer of his affections. The love, tenderness and

admiration he felt for her were all for naught. He wanted to hold her,

cherish her and... not least of all, love her passionately. He ached at thethought that he would never be allowed to kiss those beautiful lips, to touch

the silky skin of her shoulders, to caress her soft full breasts and while

casting a glance at the four-poster bed, he meditated on the very great

pleasure a

vision of Elizabeth reaching out for him could bestow. His mind started

wandering towards all the pleasurable activities he would love to share with

her... No, he tried to drive such thoughts from his mind, I must check

myself-she will never be mine.

He realized that his initial feelings of anger and hurt pride had faded away

during the course of the night and had been replaced by an emotional

mixture of disappointment, nausea, yearning and desire. Desire, oh yes,

even more ardent than before. But alas, his love for her would remain

unrequited; how was he ever to conquer this?

Tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me... he had said that about

her when they had first met and he had haughtily refused to dance with her!

In that despicable fashion, he had treated the woman he now desperately

wanted by his side. He congratulated himself... Fitzwilliam Darcy, rich,


17/35

powerful, handsome... one of England's most eligible bachelors had ruined

his chances to marry the only woman he had ever loved or would love, apart

from his mother and sister.

Elizabeth, the most precious woman in the world to him, held him incontempt. He laughed bitterly at the irony of it all. During her stay at

Netherfield, he thought it better not to give her too much attention as not to

put ideas in her head, despite his growing

attraction. Leaning backwards in his chair, he moaned at the very idiocy of

his state of mind at the time. He had been the only one who had ideas; she

was not interested in him in the least! How could he have made such a

miscalculation? Insufferable presumption that is what it was! Thinking of

his appalling experiences in London society where

mothers almost literally threw their daughters into his arms, he realized that

in general he did not hold women in high esteem. He was all too aware of

how his marriage prospects were viewed by the ton. Thus, he did not have

any doubts about the reception of his proposal.

Why could he not have foreseen that he had proposed to a woman of utter

integrity, a woman who would not marry but for mutual love and respect.

She was not interested in his station in life; she did not care for his riches.

She did not like him, which was for her the very reason to refuse him. No

wonder he had fallen in love with her! From the very beginning of their

acquaintance, he had known unconsciously that she was different from theyoung women he had known thus far.

He cursed himself for having acted on impulse; so very unlike him! After

this long night of reflection, he knew very well why he had. Jealousy had

got the better of him. When he saw her again at Hunsford Parsonage, the

passion - which he thought would lessen in time - almost immediately came

back to him in all its force. He could not keep his eyes from her and his

memory had not done her justice; she looked even lovelier than he

remembered.

While observing Elizabeth and his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam so

comfortably conversing together, he desperately wanted to have his share in

the conversation, but could not bring himself to it. He felt utterly maladroit

and awkward. Later, at Rosings Park, they were playing music together,

laughing - sometimes at his expense. The very idea that Fitzwilliam might

become her suitor was well nigh unbearable. How could he have been so

stupid, so short sighted? Honesty forced him to admit that he wanted to

claim Elizabeth as his own before his cousin could have seized theopportunity to do so.


18/35

The painful recollection of the proposal kept intruding. My feelings will not

be repressed... he had said, but what about hers? Did he ever wonder what

she felt? You were the last man in the world whom I could ever be

prevailed on to marry... Gradually, he came to the conclusion that he hadbehaved in an unbelievably naive, insensitive, arrogant, selfish and indeed,

shamelessly ungentlemanlike manner. Ungentlemanlike behaviour... Could

a gentleman be censured more severely than that? He closed his eyes as in

pain at the recollection of her words. He dearly wished the letter would

make her think better of him. Whether she could forgive his interference

with the relationship between her sister and his friend remained to be seen.

But he was convinced that, at least, she would believe his account on his

dealings with that scoundrel, George Wickham.

He groaned as he stood up and poured some water into the basin on the

dresser. He splashed his face with cold water and extinguished the last

burning candle with his thumb. As the morning sun threw its first rays

through the windows, he decided to dress without the help of his valet and

get some fresh air before breakfast. He put the letter in

his pocket in the event he would meet Elizabeth during this walk; an

encounter he both feared and longed for...

Colonel Fitzwilliam and Mr. Darcy take a stroll

A little fatigued by his aunt's ostentatious share in the conversation and

most anxious to ascertain the reason for his cousin's unusually withdrawnbehaviour of late, Colonel Fitzwilliam suggested a stroll around the estate.

The weather was fine and thus a perfect

circumstance to enjoy the outdoors in Kent for one last time. As excellent a

walker as Mr. Darcy was, he hardly ever declined such an invitation and he

consented readily to this one. He, for his part, needed to get away from the

suffocating atmosphere of Rosings and longed for some fresh air. Apart

from that, a stroll with his cousin might keep his mind away from Elizabeth

for a while. Thus, both cousins went on their way, each of them for different

motives.

The exactingly organized Lenotre-style* gardens of Lady Catherine De

Bourgh's vast estate with its geometrically trimmed hedges and labyrinths,

neatly arranged flower beds, tidily raked straight gravel paths and severe

formations of trees formed a fascinating contrast

with the picturesque, wild, hilly landscape surrounding it. On this afternoon

in April, the blossoming orchards, strawberry fields and the soft rolling

wood-covered hills alternated with hop farms, vineyards and pastures,

bathed in the soft warmth of the spring sun, which disappeared from time totime behind some fleecy clouds drifting by in a mainly blue sky. It truly


19/35

was a perfect day.

Walking down the path leading to the main gate, the two cousins leisurely

conversed about how interesting it was that the austere aspect of Rosings

Park was not at all in discordance with its surrounding landscape, but thatthe two admirably complemented each other and thus formed a harmonious

unity.

"The straight-lined manner of thinking of our dear aunt, combined with her

excessive condescension towards her tenants is perfectly reflected in her

estate," Mr. Darcy remarked dryly, which was met by uproarious laughter

from his cousin.

The two men continued their walk in amiable silence, each one of them

deep in thought.

Whilst Mr. Darcy fantasized about a completely different proposal in which

he would but declare his all consuming love for Elizabeth without ever

mentioning her station, her poor relations or his better judgement, the

colonel was lost in more mundane thoughts, trying to find a way to satisfy

his curiosity about his cousin's conduct. At the exact moment that Mr.

Darcy was envisioning a passionate kiss with which Elizabeth sealed her

consent, the colonel chose to break the silence and come straight to the

point: "Pray, Darcy, is theresomething you wish to tell me? I hope you do not mind me saying so, but

you do not, umm... seem yourself of late." "I have no idea what you mean,

Fitzwilliam, there is nothing the matter with me," Darcy replied coolly and

not a little annoyed about being so rudely disturbed from his unrealistic,

though utterly delightful dreaminess. "Why is it

then that you seem so out of spirits since yesterday evening? Oh, and I

might add that, since we are in Kent, you seem to be exceedingly

absentminded in company, and more taciturn than ever," the colonel

continued, expressing his observations in a seemingly nonchalant manner."Absentminded and taciturn?" Darcy asked sheepishly, furrowing his

brows. "Indeed you are, cousin! Did something happen during our stay at

Aunt Catherine's that perchance escaped my notice? I dare say you give the

impression of a man in love!" The Colonel declared slyly, barely hiding a

chuckle.

Upon hearing the colonel's last words, Darcy blushed to the roots of his

hair. "In love? Me? Why... I mean, no," Darcy stammered, feeling very

uncomfortable.


20/35

"Oh come on, admit it man, these last two weeks you could hardly keep

your eyes from a handsome young lady of our acquaintance every time we

were in her company and I am most certainly not referring to cousin Anne,

nor to Mrs. Collins' sister," cried Colonel Fitzwilliam.

Noticing that Darcy grew more and more embarrassed and uneasy, the

colonel became increasingly diverted and teased on: "You do understand to

which young lady I am referring, do you not? The one with the fine eyes?"

"Of course I know who you mean, cousin, and yes, Miss Bennet has

beautiful eyes. I merely made an impartial observation. However, I shall not

deny the pleasure a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can

bestow," replied he evasively. "So, Darcy, you are not in love with her.

Those continuous glances you cast at her can be explained as being but the

result of an objective observation of a man who recognizes beauty as such,"

the colonel replied, not even attempting to hide his irony. "Forgive me for

having misconstrued you so completely, old boy, even though this is a

heavy misfortune

indeed!" he continued, feigning disappointment. "Miss Bennet is not only

one of the handsomest women my eyes ever beheld, but one of the most

spirited and intelligent as well. Above that, she does not play the pianoforte

half as ill as she claims she does. I do not remember having heard anything

that gave me more pleasure lately. As a matter

of fact, I would not hesitate one moment to fall on my knees for her and begher to marry me. But, alas, a poor soldier and second son like myself is not

in the position to afford the luxury of a wife with no money. Darcy, I know

your disposition, you would not marry but for the deepest love and respect.

What a shame you do not cherish tender feelings for her, you two seem such

a perfect match and, wealthy as you are, you enjoy the advantage of not

being in need of a woman's dowry." Once again Colonel Fitzwilliam looked

at his cousin inquisitively, while doing his best to hide a grin.

"You have said quite enough, Fitzwilliam, I perfectly comprehend yourmeaning. Very well, I confess," Darcy said huskily, "I like Miss Bennet. I

like her very much indeed. In fact, I love her. I believe I fell in love with her

from the very moment of our acquaintance. There, I have said it," Mr.

Darcy replied, relieved on the one hand, but

somewhat vexed on the other since he did not like the idea that his cousin

had noticed all those qualities Elizabeth possessed he admired himself so

much. His remark on her outward beauty he found particularly

exasperating. "I knew it," Colonel Fitzwilliam cried out excitedly, "When

will you propose to her?" "I already did, yesterday evening," Darcy softlyreplied. "Pray, when will you go to her father then?" His cousin asked with


21/35

enthusiasm. "I will not be going," Darcy whispered. Turning his head away

from his

cousin to hide his mortification, he added, "She refused me." "She did

what? You must be joking!" the Colonel cried incredulously, "No, I can see

you are not. In heaven's name why?"

"Very well, cousin, I will tell you the complete history of our

acquaintance." Darcy said reluctantly, but at the same time, somewhat

relieved that he had an opportunity to confide in somebody he trusted.

Thus, Darcy told his cousin everything: the way they had met, how she had

aroused feelings in him he would not acknowledge at first and how

soon these feelings had intensified. He explained how he had struggled

against them in vain and that their renewed acquaintance in Kent ultimately

resulted in what was likely the most abominable proposal known to

mankind. Utterly embarrassed he described the manner in which he had

declared his love for her while feeling the absurd necessity to

point out the inferiority of her relations and the degradation it would entail

for himself and his family.

"I do not remember ever having acted so utterly without thought or respect

towards anybody, let alone towards a woman worthy of the highest esteem

and regard," Darcy continued, "I can only think back on it with abhorrence.

Pray, do not say anything, cousin. I already have chastised myself since and

will keep doing so until I have madeamends. Anyway, she refused quite decidedly and, as if I had not been

presumptuous enough, I even had the audacity to ask her why she rejected

me."

Here, Darcy stopped and looked his cousin straight in the eye "She told me

bluntly that I ruined the happiness of her eldest sister by separating her from

Mr. Bingley and that I had denied the wishes of my late father with regards

to Mr. Wickham. Apart from that, she made it perfectly clear to me how

utterly disgusted she was by my superciliousness."

Colonel Fitzwilliam was speechless; the look on his face was one of utter

astonishment. He merely wanted to find out if he was right in his

assumption that Darcy had formed an attachment to Miss Bennet and, if so,

whether he had perchance made the decision to court her. That this would

be the response to his teasing was the last thing he had

expected. He knew not what to say, in particular because he had played a

part in Darcy's misfortune by telling Miss Bennet about his interference

concerning Mr. Bingley andher sister. "Good God, Darcy," he uttered finally, "I did not know that she


22/35

was acquainted with that scoundrel, Wickham. But what is worse, I must

confess that it was I who informed Miss Bennet about your interference in

the relationship of your friend. I had not the slightest idea that her sister was

involved. I understand her sudden headache now," he said remorsefully.

"It is of no consequence, Fitzwilliam, please do not make yourself uneasy,

this is not yet the end of the story." And Darcy went on. He told him that

his honour drove him to defend himself against the offences laid at his

charge in a letter, which he had handed her this morning, in the grove.

"You wrote her a letter and you met her this morning?" Colonel Fitzwilliam

asked unbelievingly. My, my, cousin Darcy, propriety incarnate, in the

woods together with a beautiful, unchaperoned woman...! The colonel

pondered amused. "Indeed, cousin, I did. My need to defend myself was

stronger than my sense of propriety." The colonel looked at him

compassionately and said: "Darcy, you acted, let me put it mildly,

inelegantly; and if it would not be so painful, your account of the proposal

would have made me laugh. I think that you will have to find a way to show

Miss Bennet who you really are. Your letter could be one step in the right

direction, I imagine. In the end, she will learn to have the same regard for

you as you have for her, I am sure."

Hoping rather than believing the reality of his cousin's words, they felt like

balm to his wounded heart all the same and Mr. Darcy, in a mood of uttervolubility and being so fortunate as to find himself a willing ear with the

Colonel, enumerated all of Elizabeth's merits regarding her mind and form.

In the end, Colonel Fitzwilliam could not be convinced of but one thing:

there was not a young lady in England to be found who could possibly be

more accomplished and handsomer than Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

* Andre Le Notre (1613-1700), French landscape architect and inventor

of the geometrical, architectural-like style of gardening which received his

name. His

masterpiece are the gardens of Versailles by order of the Sun King, LouisXIV.

Elizabeth Faces the Truth


23/35

Elizabeth got up early after a sleepless night during which she had tried to

compose her thoughts. She felt confused, angry, quite sad and, if she could

be truly honest with herself, flattered: being proposed to by such a great

man... being loved by him! Thinking of the future prospects of her family,

the idea that she had acted toohastily, even selfishly, crossed her mind, but she dismissed it quickly. No,

he had been cruel towards his father's protege, he was arrogant and, what

was worst, he had ruined Jane's only probable chance for happiness. How

could she ever esteem, let alone love, such a man? She reviewed the events

of the previous day and could not but come to one conclusion: refusing him

was the only right thing she could have done. Papa would surely

understand, though she had no intention of telling him. The thought of her

mother's probable reaction to her second refusal within a time span of half a

year - this time, the rejection of a man of 10,000 a year! - made her shudder.

All the smelling salts in the world could not be enough to soothe her

hysteria. No, she decided to keep this to herself and perhaps she might

confide in Jane, eventually.

Suffering from a severe headache, she did not wish to join the family at the

breakfast table. The distasteful manner in which her cousin consumed his

food was too much to bear at this particular moment, as was the endless

chitchat of Maria Lucas. She excused herself and went out for a walk. It

was a beautiful sunny morning and she was badly in

need of some fresh air.

After having walked for a while, Elizabeth seated herself on a fallen tree at

the border of the forest overlooking the valley. She enjoyed watching the

beautiful landscape warming itself in the morning sun and, while closing

her eyes, she deeply inhaled the delicious

scent of the spring blossoms, still covered with dew. Melancholy overcame

her when her mind unwillingly wandered back towards the events of the

previous day. Restless as she was, she soon walked on and, as to clear her

mind from her dark thoughts, she started to run until she noticed a manadvancing. She turned away immediately, fearful she was of its being Mr.

Darcy's, but on hearing herself called and recognizing Mr. Darcy's voice,

she moved again in her initial direction and, holding out a letter, heard him

say: "I have been walking in the grove some time in the hope of meeting

you. Will you do me the honour of reading this letter?" - And then, with a

slight bow, turned and walked away.

Having no time to object, and, truth be told, far too curious to even wish to

refuse it, Elizabeth accepted the letter and broke the seal as soon as Mr.Darcy was out of sight.


24/35

"Be not alarmed, madam, on receiving this letter, by the apprehension of its

containing any repetition of those sentiments, or renewal of those offers,

which were last night so disgusting to you..."

With a strong prejudice against everything he might say, she haughtily and

with utter disdain read the first sentence out loud, while imitating Mr.

Darcy's voice. Obviously she could not approve of his rather sarcastic

phrasing and with even greater prejudice she read on. However, while

perusing the letter, the expression on her face changed from anger to

astonishment and from embarrassment to sadness, and when she finished

his long letter for a second time, closely examining the meaning of every

sentence, her chagrin was beyond description. As much as she loathed to

admit it, she knew intuitively

that every word he had written on the subject of Mr. Wickham was the

absolute truth. She had had the audacity to call a man she hardly knew

conceited and proud, all the while boasting her ability of fathoming human

character! She, who had believed a man like George Wickham; a flatterer,

an impostor, an ungrateful liar and a ruthless seducer of

innocent young girls! In spite of certain improper actions on Wickham's

part, which should have opened her eyes much sooner, she had cherished

tender thoughts - however superficial they might have been - for this useless

man! Feelings she might have even shewn to him! The realization made her

feel almost physically ill. It struck her that she had not seen the improprietyof his communications to a stranger before.

In this perturbed state of mind, with thoughts that could rest on nothing, and

a heart pounding fast, Elizabeth kept on folding and unfolding the letter.

She recalled how she would not listen to Jane's reasonable analysis of the

two men and how she had brushed all of her sister's arguments in favour of

Mr. Darcy aside. She had been blinded by anger and hurt pride, for the mere

reason that this man did not think her handsome enough to tempt him and

would not dance with her. Admittedly, his observation had been utterlyrude, but did that behaviour justify all her prejudices against him? Indeed it

did not:

his letter proved the opposite. One evening at Netherfield, Mr. Darcy had

called himself resentful, when she had challenged him. My good opinion

once lost, is lost forever he had said and she pitied him. But the truth of the

matter was that she, Elizabeth Bennet, was a most resentful creature herself!

After their first acquaintance at the assembly, she kept holding rancour

against him, regardless of the fact that he had never wronged her again at

later gatherings and that he had never again behaved in a particularlyarrogant manner... at least not before he proposed to her. On various


25/35

occasions, Charlotte had

suggested that perhaps Mr. Darcy had a particular regard for her. Had she

not told her that he looked a great deal at her? Had she not called her a

simpleton for allowing her fancy for Wickham to make her appear

unpleasant in the eyes of a man of ten times his consequence at theNetherfield ball? Why had she been so certain that Mr. Darcy had

no aim but to criticise her? How could she have misconstrued his intentions

so? While meditating on all the misunderstandings and her mistaken

interpretations, she was obliged to admit that, apart from the Meryton

assembly and his abominable proposal, his behaviour had been impeccable

throughout, whereas hers was often bordering on the uncivil. She blushed

from mortification, as she thought back to her impertinent questioning at the

ball. She had never even given herself a chance to form an impartial opinion

about Mr. Darcy, for the simple reason that she did not wish it; she wished

to dislike him, she had chosen to dislike him. She had liked herself too

much!

Poor Elizabeth, she truly was too severe upon herself, but she felt an

extreme need for thorough introspection. She had never felt worse in her

life. And there was nothing she could do; she knew very well that there was

nothing she could do. She could not possibly write and apologize, however

fervently she wished to!

While perusing the passage with his observations on Jane and Mr. Bingleyfor a third time, she remembered Charlotte's opinion on shewing one's

regard, not concealing it. Even on this subject, her indignation had altered

into understanding; however wrong Mr.

Darcy had judged the depth of Jane's feelings for Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth

knew that his comprehension of their attachment was based on the same

observances that her friend had counselled against. She had to admit to

herself, however, that his actions separating Jane from Mr. Bingley had

nothing to do with the manner in which her former dislike of him took root.

After all, she only learned about his interference shortly before his proposal.No, she must be completely honest with herself; initially, it was none but

her own wounded pride that had formed her disapproving judgement of

him; a judgement that had been confirmed later by Wickham's scandalous

lies. The Colonel's disclosure on Mr. Darcy's actions regarding Jane and

Mr. Bingley only added fuel to the fire that Elizabeth had already stoked.

As she entered the house after an absence of at least two hours, she was

immediately told that the gentlemen from Rosings had each called during

her absence. Affecting concern in having missed them, Elizabeth excusedherself and went upstairs to her room. She let herself unceremoniously fall


26/35

on her bed, took the letter from her reticule, and started to read it once

again. As she lay on her back, eyes closed to protect them against the bright

daylight, one hand behind her head and the other pressing the letter against

her chest, confusing feelings of guilt, remorse and regret overwhelmed her

and while softly whispering "Fitzwilliam??" she rolled to her stomach,embraced her pillow and started to weep distressingly.

Mr. Darcy's resolve...

In essentials, Mr. Darcy was not of a disposition to act without reflection.

Like a chess player he thoroughly considered and calculated the possibleresults of every single move he ever made. Impulsiveness simply was not

part of his vocabulary: until he met Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn.

Almost from the beginning of his acquaintance with

this attractive gentleman's daughter from Hertfordshire, who was so

different from all the young women he knew, it seemed as if his world and

everything he had ever believed in had been turned upside down. At first he

was shocked to find himself acting on instinct rather than on rational,

measured study. But after his abominable behaviour in

Hunsford, he had taken the time to reflect on a certain event he would rathernot think about anymore. He had understood that Miss Bennet's free-spirit

was best met by a similar sort of naturalness in order to gain her good

opinion -- even though that did not exactly correspond with his character.

And thus, after their chance meeting the other day

at Pemberley, he had first invited her uncle to come fishing for trout,

subsequently he could not wait to call on them in Lambton the morning

after, and finally he had actually invited Miss Elizabeth and her relations to

dine at Pemberley!

Impetuous behaviour to say the least, Darcy! Inviting a man who is in trade

- the brother of Mrs. Bennet, of all people? Are you out of your senses? His

inner voice representing his old self attempted to warn him initially. But he

banned it immediately to the deepest dungeons of his mind and listened as

of that moment to a new voice, that embodied his new state of mind. What

is so ignominious about being in trade, old man? After all, Bingley's own

good father was in trade. Is it not enough that Miss Bennet holds him in

high esteem? Cannot you see for yourself that Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner are a

perfectly amiable, well-mannered couple? Besides, it is the occasion par

excellence to show Elizabeth the gentleman you really are. It looks as


27/35

though fortune truly is smiling upon you and you should be but pleased that

this occasion presents itself.

Darcy was pleased indeed. The artless, genuine enthusiasm of the Gardiners

and the gracious acceptance of Miss Elizabeth, made him realize that hisnewly obtained spontaneity was being rewarded, particularly by the object

of his undivided attention, who smiled at him like she had never smiled at

him before. Since their chance

encounter, and her clearly altered attitude towards his person, he could jump

with joy. But however great the urge and however strong his desire to give

in to every emotion that welled up in him, he took great care so as not to

lose his dignity. He managed to keep his composure in front of the

Pemberley party, even though his heart was overflowing. He felt like

singing, laughing, dancing even. And when he was certain that

nobody could see him, he conjured up a broad smile when revelling at the

good fortune of their renewed acquaintance: how lovely she had looked

whilst strolling about Pemberley park and how becoming her flushed

cheeks when she first saw him. Indeed, it did not take more than half an

hour for his love, desire and admiration to return to him in all their force.

Perhaps it was a little premature, but Darcy found himself in a state of

elation. It is miraculous, is it not, that feelings can change from utter despair

into complete bliss in a mere moment? he pondered, while contemplating

fondly the object of his admiration sitting across from him - as his guest, athis table in his saloon eating his food. He

savoured her smiles and he ached to kiss her agonisingly tempting red lips.

He could not keep his eyes from them when she parted them to speak and

revealed her pearly white teeth. The mere sound of her voice was music to

his ears. The sight of Elizabeth tasting a peach made his desire for her grow

to unbearable heights and he envisioned feeding her all sorts of exotic fruits

that could so stir the imagination to dwell on certain activities for which the

more private setting of a bedroom would be the perfect location. Dreamily

he imagined a piece of fruit accidentally disappearing into her decolletage,whilst she gave him permission to retrieve it by following with his tongue

the sweet trail

it had left on her skin. And her eyes, her fine eyes: the eyes that had

followed him everywhere he went since he had first looked into them.

Those eyes that had expressed but mockery or anger in the past, now looked

at him with affection and... love?

In spite of her encouraging smiles and his ardent wish to propose anew, he

warned himself repeatedly to be cautious, to act patiently so as not to temptfate. His good intentions notwithstanding, he had forgotten all about them


28/35

when, the next morning he woke up, utterly aroused from restless dreams in

which a highly seductive Elizabeth had played an essential part. Confident,

in high spirits and full of anticipation, he

dressed with care, tucked a little box with a precious heirloom in his pocket

and mounted his favourite horse to go to Lambton with the aim of renewingthe offer of his hand or, if the occasion should not arise, at least to attempt

to know whether he could cherish hope. Upon entering the inn at Lambton,

he checked the box in his pocket a last time and asked the servant to take

him to Miss Bennet. But when he was shewn into the parlour and

immediately noticed her pale face and impetuous manner, his heart sank

into his boots. It was crystal clear that she was in a state of utter misery and

now was not the time to discuss love.

When he learned the reason for her distress he turned away in shock. Her

intelligence caused nausea, anger, compassion, regret... All sorts of

conflicting emotions took hold of his mind and body. He shivered, drops of

perspiration appeared on his forehead, his legs felt weak. The feeling of

guilt for not having exposed Wickham to the world as he

should have done overwhelmed him. He was not a superstitious man, but in

this case he could not help but think that he had tempted fate by bringing an

engagement ring with him. Indeed, it had seemed all too good to be true.

He knew that for him all hope was lost now; a thought that almost brought

tears of sorrow as well as fury to his eyes. How could she ever love him: Acoward, a selfish man who had considered but the protection of his own

family, who had not given a second thought to the eventual misfortunes

others might suffer because of Wickham? And of all

families, that villain, that useless person, had harmed the one of his beloved.

Could life be more ironic? Looking again at the woman of his dreams, the

one whom he loved so dearly, with whom he most ardently wished to spend

the rest of his life, he resolved there and then to make amends: he would

travel to London the very next day and do

everything within his power to recover Wickham and make him marryElizabeth's sister. This unfortunate turn of events, this utter and complete

disillusionment due to his own negligence based on stupid, mistaken pride,

would prevent him from ever carrying his true love over the threshold of

Pemberley, but at least his conscience would be at

ease. A scant comfort indeed, he pondered bitterly. Gnashing his teeth, he

whispered out of Elizabeth's hearing: "I congratulate you, Wickham, your

revenge is complete after all."


29/35

No cause to repine: En route for Hertfordshire...

But the wife of Mr. Darcy must have such extraordinary sources of

happiness

necessarily attached to her situation, that she could upon the whole, have

no

cause to repine...

No cause to repine... no cause to repine... no cause to repine... With a smileon his face, Elizabeth's words, as brought to him by his aunt, kept going

through Mr. Darcy's head on the cadence of the wheels of his carriage that

was bringing him back to Hertfordshire in the fastest possible manner .

Fasterhe thought, the carriage must go faster... And, suiting the action to

the word, he opened one of the windows of the carriage and instructed the

coachman to drive up the horses.

How utterly astonished he was that Aunt Catherine had paid him an

unexpected visit on her way back from Longbourn, of all places! And he

was even more surprised at the matter she so ardently desired to warn him

against. It was too farcical! She had expressed her contempt for Elizabeth in

no uncertain terms. As indignant as she was, she had repeated what was in

her view every insolent riposte Elizabeth had voiced about the impossibility

of an alliance between the two of them. "As you well know, Darcy, honour,

decorum, prudence and interest simply forbid it." She had said with a

furious look in her eyes, all the while pacing up and down the room,

dangerously swaying her cane to emphasize her words and barely leaving

various precious objects on the mantle piece and tea tables in one piece;

something Darcy had not observed without some trepidation.

"She is the most ungrateful, unfeeling and selfish girl I have ever met,

nephew! Not to mention her conceit; she dared to compare an utterly

insignificant gentleman like her father with you. Listen to me! She had the

audacity to claim that she was your equal! Who is she to bluntly refuse to

oblige me when I asked for her word that she would never enter into an

engagement with you? Is this to be borne? No, this is not to be borne. I trust

you understand what to do: you must promise to keep away from this

country upstart, so as to prevent her from drawing you in with her arts and

allurements. Do I make myself clear?" And thus Lady Catherine poundedthe floor with her cane in conclusion of her monologue describing the


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appallingly humiliating experience in the copse at Longbourn. "Yes, aunt,

you do, I thank you." Replied Darcy, barely able to keep his countenance

and not promising anything of the kind.

But, as bad a listener as she was, she did not take notice and said: "Verywell then, I will leave you now, Darcy. Your cousin Anne and I hope to see

you soon again in Rosings." When Darcy made a move to stand up, she

said: "No, do not trouble yourself, I know my way out, I bid you good day."

And without waiting for a reaction from her nephew, she left the room and

quitted the house. As soon as Lady Catherine left, Darcy set his suppressed

emotions free. He paced up and down the room, putting some of the objects

aunt Catherine had hit with her cane back in their place. He chuckled at the

thought of aunt Catherine's mistaken triumph, while at the same time angry

at the manner in which she had insulted his beloved. But most of all he

was touched, touched at the thought

that Elizabeth had defended herself, that she had had the courage to stand

up against his formidable aunt and that she had not given in to her utterly

unreasonable demands. He was proud of her, and proud of himself to have

fallen in love with a woman of her calibre. Leaning against the mantle

piece, he closed his eyes for a moment and imagined Elizabeth smiling at

him like she had done at Pemberley, whilst savouring a peach. Restlessly

flopping back in his chair, he considered that he could not remember one

occasion since he had become aware of her existence when his aunt had

made him feel so cheerful.How fortunate that aunt Catherine was in haste, he mused, Otherwise I

might have given in to the urge to take her face between my two hands and

kiss her on both cheeks: an action I have up until now considered one of my

worst nightmares!

He chuckled again. He truly was in a state of elation. Could it be possible

that indeed Elizabeth cared for him? That she cared enough for him to

become his wife after all? He stood up again and out of sheer joy, he made

a few dance steps imagining having Elizabeth in his arms as his partner.

Neither quadrille nor reel would do, certainly not! Mr. Darcy imagined thenext dance with her to be the deliciously, delightfully intoxicatingly

scandalous waltz! His left hand would be in her right, and his right hand on

her back, whilst her left hand rested lightly on his shoulder. The entire

duration of the dance they would be in one another's arms and he imagined

swirling together into their future as man and wife. Darcy took a deep

breath and shivered with pleasure at the thought.

Absorbed in his current occupation in which he waltzed with her, executing

the figures and humming from Vicente Martin's opera Una cosa rara, he did

not notice his butler enter the room and quizzically observe his master. Thefirst had coughed discreetly, hardly able to conceal a smile, asking: "You


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called for me, Sir?" Embarrassed, Darcy immediately pitched himself into

the nearest chair, attempting to rehabilitate his dignity and quickly replied:

"Umm... yes, Cuthbert. See to it that the carriage is ready within the hour. I

have to return to Hertfordshire." "Very well, Sir, right away, Sir. Is there

anything else you need?" "I am not certain how long I will be away, butprepare a trunk for at least a week or two. That will be all, now go to it."

Darcy replied impatiently, most anxious to leave. If events were to take the

turn as he imagined, he would ask her permission to pull her close and press

a first soft kiss on her lips, provided she accepted his proposal, naturally.

Violently in love as he was, Mr. Darcy was determined to express his love

for her in every other manner and as thoroughly as she would allow him to

do.

Whilst the carriage took him swiftly to the place where he hoped his

beloved would be awaiting him, he speculated about her reaction to his

return: would she be pleased to see him? Would she give him one of her

seductive smiles? Or would she be grave and silent again as she had been

the last time they were in each other presence? Would she give him enough

encouragement? Unconsciously his hand went to the pocket in which he

kept the little box containing the ring; the very same ring he had taken to

the inn in Lambton where, due to the unfortunate family matters he would

rather not think about anymore, he had kept it where it was. Would she

grant him the opportunity this time to open it for her, would she hold out

her hand and would he put the ring on her finger? Whilst looking

through the window of his carriage and enjoying the charming landscapepassing by, Mr. Darcy merrily meditated on the very great pleasure a 'yes'

from Elizabeth's alluring red lips in reply to his proposal would bestow.

Leaning back against the soft velvet of his luxurious carriage seat, fatigue

took him by

surprise and his eyelids grew heavy. With a smile on his handsome face, he

slowly drifted away into a slumber..."Why is Elizabeth in my room? What is

she doing here?" The object of his love and passion slowly walked towards

him. He saw her lips moving but he could not hear what she was saying.

"Come closer, Elizabeth, my love, I cannot hear you," he whispered. Shewas wearing a diaphanous gown revealing her luscious body in a most

sensual manner. She sat beside him on the edge of the bed and whispered

endearments in his ear. While stroking a lock of hair from his forehead, she

called him her beloved husband and softly kissed his lips. "You cannot

possibly feel comfortable with all these clothes on, my love. Allow me to

remove them," she said and started to untie the knot of his neck cloth..."

"By all means, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth, but let me free you of all that

unnecessary silk that is covering your body, I want to see all of you. Whilst

slowly untying the ribbon of her bodice and removing the garment from hershoulders downwards and thus baring her breasts, their eyes locked for a


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moment, before their lips

touched again, resulting in a kiss that seemed to express all the love and

passion they felt for each other. At first it was cautious and agonizingly

tender, discovering the taste and feel of each other's mouth. But soon the

kiss became sultrier, more ardent and fiery as their tongues engaged in afervent dance of lust and desire. Their hands began exploring their bodies

and, at the precise moment that Darcy cupped her breast... he most cruelly

awoke from this sweetest of dreams.

Bathed in sweat, breathing heavily and with his heart pounding wildly

inside his chest, Darcy sat straight up and looked bewilderedly around him,

barely noticing that he had fallen off his seat and that he was actually sitting

on the floor of the carriage. He had also apparently loosened his cravat as

he dreamed of Elizabeth. He was bitterly disappointed to discover that he

was alone. "Good God," he groaned. Why awake so soon? Too soon! It

must have been a bump in the road. Damn, how real this dream was. I

actually dreamt that we were husband and wife! Elizabeth called me her

beloved husband! Netherfield is miles away still and Elizabeth had only just

begun to undress me. 'We' would have had plenty of time and it is not

difficult to imagine where my dream would have led! Darcy thought, not

without regret, dreamily attempting to re-taste the delicious kiss he had

shared with the love of his life by licking his lips.

Poor Darcy, he would have given a fortune for this dream to continue. But

alas, it was not to be. As the coach continued its route, and Darcy took his

seat again, he re-knotted his cravat and sat straight up, so as to not fallasleep again. He much rather preferred to arrive at Netherfield as a

gentleman than as the aroused, unsettled and dishevelled person he was but

moments ago. He felt terribly restless, if not nervous, and he dearly hoped

that, after almost a year of agony, the woman of his dreams would soon

release him from his sufferings and accept that which he so fervently

wished for: the offer of his hand...

How very fortunate we are, are we not, dear readers? Unlike Mr. Darcy we

already know the end. We are all one step ahead of our beloved hero and

oh, how fervently we would wish to be there, with him, in his coach, tocomfort him and tell him that once in a while dreams do come true.

My Good Qualities Under Your Protection...

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy's wife of but one day, one evening and a very good

part of one night, the former Miss Elizabeth Bennet, took a turn about the


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room, enjoying the quiet atmosphere surrounding her. There were no

sounds to be heard but the gentle snoring of her husband and the rain softly

tapping against the windowpane. The world seemed to be completely at

peace, exuding a serenity that was most welcome to Elizabeth after the

dream which tore her from the depth of her slumber in the middle of thenight.

Elizabeth had dreamt a most peculiar dream in which a tall, handsome

knight on a

white horse had carried her off to a medieval castle; an impregnable,

battlemented fortress really with thick walls, windows secured with iron

bars and intimidating towers. The knight had carried her to his chamber and

due to his ardent admiration and affection, subsequently locked her up in

one of the towers...

When she snapped open her eyes, quite short of breath, and somewhat

startled, she noticed that the knight on the horse appeared to be none other

than her beloved Darcy who, his arm firmly draped over her body, his hand

cupping her breast, held her tightly in his sleep so that she could not move.

The fact that she was unable to move obviously had caused this highly

romantic, though somewhat frightening dream. Elizabeth chuckled. No, she

was not locked up in a tower, not in the very least! She found herself in the

four-poster bed in the master's bedchamber of Darcy's London townhouse,

where the master's gentle snoring and warm breath tickled her ear.Cautiously, she removed Darcy's arm

and, without making a sound, slipped out of the bed.

Is not this amusing? She pondered whilst adjusting her eyes to the darkness

and looking around by the light of the remnants of the last burning candle.

So far I have spent hours and hours in this room, but apart from the bed, I

did not really know where I was!

Indeed she did not, for the simple reason that her husband had carried her tohis bed, quite in haste, where soon afterwards their mind and body had been

exceedingly agreeably engaged in discovering the pleasures of the flesh.

Thus, there had been no room for distractions such as taking a turn about

the room. She blushed at the thought of the thorough exploration of one

another's body and all those new feelings varying from utter tenderness to

extreme ecstasy, resulting from their actions. She could still taste his lips,

feel his tongue in her mouth and all over her body, not to mention the salty

flavour of his skin when she kissed his chest and umm... beyond. He had

awakened desires in her she did not know existed. Her wantonness hadshocked her, but not for long. Her love


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for this man and the feelings of lust he incited in her were so strong that she

did not wish to dwell on the lack of ladylike behaviour her mother would

most definitely accuse her of. It could not be helped: she was unable to

deny her own desires, apart from her ardent wish to fulfil his, and Darcy did

not give her the impression that he loathed her exhibiting precisely that."Quite on the contrary, I dare say." She whispered, looking at her sleeping

husband with adoration.

She picked up her nightgown that lay in a heap on the floor, hesitated for a

moment, but decided to not put it on and left it on the bed. Thus, naked as

her creator had made her, she tiptoed towards the window, opened it and

inhaled the fresh night air. Sticking her head a little out of the window she

felt the raindrops on her face and smiling she licked the drops from her lips.

She shivered when a sudden breeze touched her face. And after having

closed the window, she walked towards the mantle piece with its large

mirror that leaned a little over so that she could see herself from head to

foot. By the faint golden

glow of the candle, Elizabeth intently gazed at her image. So, this is I. This

is my body. The body that Darcy observed so intently, admired so ardently,

explored so meticulously and loved so passionately. She mused,

remembering her fast pounding heart and how she had trembled when he

disrobed her, his fervent gaze no longer able to disguise his mounting

passion.

Deep in thought as she was, it entirely escaped her notice that Darcy had

awakened also. Delighted, he observed her naked body, whilst she was

slightly leaning out of the window to catch the raindrops. He was certain,

absolutely certain that at that moment his view was far more tempting than

hers. The sight of Elizabeth contemplating herself in front of the mirror

became too much to bear and softly he said to himself: "In vain have I

struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed." Thereupon he

stepped out of the bed as well and without making a sound, walked in her

direction. Just before the mirror betrayed his presence, he grabbed her frombehind, pulled her towards him and

cupped her breasts. His passionate kiss startled the cry that escaped from

Elizabeth's throat, after which he teasingly whispered in her ear:

"Were you contemplating your good qualities, my dearest, loveliest wife?

Such as your beautiful hair, your eyes and lashes so remarkably fine, your

tempting mouth, your light and pleasing figure, your soft skin, your breasts

that would drive every man wild with desire, or the mysterious, dark, warm

spot between your beautiful legs that I will never get enough of and wouldlove to renew my acquaintance with right now? Umm... apart from the


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beauty and liveliness of your mind, naturally." He added hastily, expressing

himself as sensibly and warmly as a man violently in love can be supposed

to do.

Turning towards him, and wrapping her arms about his waist, feeling theevidence of his desire against her belly, she replied smiling: "Aye, dearest

husband, I was. And from this day forward my good qualities are under

your protection. You are to exaggerate them as much as possible, at least

once a day for the duration of our life."

Finis

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When So Much Beauty is Before You