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Before Darcy and Elizabeth set out for their destination, an Italian restaurant that had recently opened in town and was developing a reputation for being expensive, but worth it, with excellent service.
"I think now," Darcy drawled, with some deliberation. "You don't want to, do you — Jane?" he enquired, but from the casualness of the question Elizabeth felt as if the issue was already settled. her spirit fired up
noticeably at this display of none too polite arrogance, but casting a glance at Jane's eager, curious face, she felt no inclination for a cosy drink with her dear, dear family either, not even her favourite sister.
Elizabeth felt that she might be only too tempted to pour her drink right over Darcy's handsomely sleek brylcreemed head! Charles, even, had a look of benevolent paternalistic patronage
that suddenly irritated Elizabeth profoundly. "No," she replied decidedly. "Let's be going — we'll leave you to your dinner, dears. I do hope you enjoy it," she added with acid sweetness.
"Not as much as you will, I bet," Jane rejoined eagerly. "That Italian place is supposed to be absolutely super — I've been hinting to Charles about a trip there to celebrate our wedding anniversary, haven't I, charles?" she enquired
of her patient husband, and the usual affectionate amusement of his expression when regarding his dizzy wife deepened. "Haven't you just," he added drily. "I expect we'll investigate the
place after you two," he said, nodding towards Elizabeth and Darcy, "have reported back,." As they set off in Darcy's rather flash new model T, there were a few moments of silence. Elizabeth felt a little uneasy, her old adolescent shyness reasserting itself
as it sometimes did when meeting someone new for the first time. Added to that was her awareness of Fitzwilliam Darcy as a man — an attractive and magnetic man at that. It was strange to realize that over the last two years she had never felt that awareness of masculinity
with any man with whom she had come into contact, that potential tension and attraction which underlies so many male and female interactions, often beneath the level of consciousness.
Oh, she knew the reason well enough. Wickham's pointless, tragic death, her own irrational guilt, these things had dried up some natural warm spring of life deep within her. yet, faintly, Elizabeth began to suspect that
that spring had lately begun to come to life again — just a trickle, hardly perceptible at the moment perhaps. Reluctantly, almost against her will, and perhaps overdue -she was edging towards recovery. And what
was required to change that tiny trickle to a full and joyous spring of life, Elizabeth wondered. perhaps a — a man like Fitzwilliam Darcy? Elizabeth turned to look at Darcy and smiled drily to herself, remembering
Janey's hilarity at the notion of a match between herself and Darcy. His profile was strong, pure, beautiful, a fortuitous example of all that was aesthetically pleasing in the male human animal, with
a sense of a forceful intelligent mind at work behind that pleasing
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And yet, even on the basis of such a brief acquaintance, the man could be so dashed annoying! Elizabeth felt she might like to beat him over the head with a brolly, like a shop window dummy,
might like to vaporize him, that it would pleasure her, to bring down the fiery rains of hell upon him! The dummy! Oh, what a baby man he was — and Charles too, idly sagging and waving a big blue flower about.
Of course, everyone had their sins — to be washed away, one hoped, forever and a day or two, or so. Filthy sinners! Oh, there was a distinct trouble with reality! Still, there was the matter of his eyes, which
were liquidly beautiful, even if that was all he had — a flash of them, and she was melting. Oh, there was no reason, to be sad, she assured herself — not the least reason in the world!
Good God, but she ought never to have allowed charlotte to set her up with the dreadful fellow — although it was hard enough to hold on to a friend, when they wanted something you weren't, and didn't have,
and it was, conversely, hard to give up on a friend, when it was the only one you'd got.
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facade. Tell me the joke," Darcy said in a low voice, glaring at her briefly as the traffic slowed down for a while, his eyes a flash of blue fire. "Oh, nothing," Elizabeth said a little awkwardly. "Only —
this is a little bit strange for me, you know," she added incautiously. "What, going out to dinner with a man?" Darcy enquired, raising his eyebrows, his expression one of faintly sardonic surprise.
"Oh, no," Elizabeth hurriedly replied. , "I mean — well, signing up with a dating agency i suppose. You know that this is all my sister's idea, I suppose? Dear Jane, she's
well-meaning, but..." Elizabeth allowed her voice to trail off expressively into silence, and suddenly reflected suddenly that Darcy's original enquiry was in fact quite pertinent.
It was indeed a very long time since she had been out to dinner with a man, having habitually turned down most invitations which came her way. And this particular date was certainly an odd way to get back into the swing of things!
"Jane's a sweet girl, but friends and loved ones who want to organise your life can be a real menace," Darcy commented, agreeing with her upnspoken implication. "My own sister and some of my friend's wives are always trying to marry me off, and it can be pure hell trying
to get them off my back without hurting their feelings — after all, your friends only want the best for you — it's just that you might not agree as to just what that best is!"
"You like your freedom, then, you're a lone wolf?" Elizabeth inquired, bold with curiosity. "Isn't that rather ironic, coming from the owner of what used to be called a matrimonial bureau?" Darcy's mouth quirked, acknowledging a palpable hit, the expression rather direct attractive, as Elizabeth
cautiously acknowledged to herself. "Quite. It's true, I do like my freedom — in preference to the alternatives so far offered, at any rate. The suitable women my matchmakers produce
are just that — suitable. Attractive, well groomed, charming, intelligent... quite unexceptionable. Just like a million other women in the world. but what a matchmaker never takes into account is that someone totally
unsuitable may possess that intangible something, that makes them right for you when a paragon bores you to tears."why, you're a romantic," Elizabeth cried, astonished."Not guilty," Darcy protested, amused , his vivd eyes crinkling up as her he kept them on the road ahead. "Oh well, perhaps, just a little bit guilty," he conceded, grinning. "i guess that's maybe the
why I've stayed single — I've known lovely women who would have each made me a charming wife — but I've always hesitated — thinking that there must be something more, there must be someone whose good points and compatibility I wouldn't need to calculate because she would just be
right, we would belong together and there would be no element of choice because it would be so compellingly obvious that we were meant
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for each other. "How — convenient," elizabeth murmured thoughtfully. Darcy's brows drew together and he seemed somewhat taken aback, although he was still paying attention to his driving. "Girl, what do you mean?"
"I mean," elizabeth said slowly, a little intimidated and now regretting having spoken her mind so readily and impulsively, "That having an image in your head of some perfect idealized woman lets you out of committing yourself
to any real woman female, because no real woman can ever possibly match up to an ideal. so, maybe, you're left free to follow your natural inclinations — to be that lone wolf..." she turned and smiled a little apprehensively,
at Darcy. "Don't take offence — I'm not meaning to be rude, you know." "Hmmm. I'm not at all sure I care for your interpretation of the workings of my psyche," Darcy told her coolly. It's rather less than flattering...
and I think you're wrong... but we'll just have to wait and see about that... won't we? "Will we?" Elizabeth aked, faintly puzzled. But then, they arrived at the restaurant, and his curious statement slipped for the time being to the back of her mind.
Inside, settled at their table and examining the menu, elizabeth stole a good comprehensive look at Fitzwilliam Darcy. It wasn't hard, judging by appearances, to accept Jane's appraisal of this man. How attractive, how very
attractive he was... and how well every other woman in the restaurant knew it. Elizabeth wasn't the only one stealing glances at him, as she was only too aware. he had to be well used to that kind of feminine attention, elizabeth
thought. No doubt it had contributed to the faint air of arrogance he seemed barely aware of. "Darcy, sweetheart, how nice!" The exclamation came from a red-haired woman in a long, clingy, plum coloured velvet dress, who had just entered the restaurant with a group of friends. She wore no makeup, too much jewellery,
and possessed all the unconscious arrogance of astonishing, flawless physical beauty. That air was familiar, Elizabeth thought. It bore a relationsip to that of Darcy's. But it was more pronounced, and somehow colder.
"Caroline, hello kid," Darcy greeted the woman, getting up and kissing her cheek affectionately. "Darling," she cried, administering a bear-hug. that would have been sufficient to crack a couple of ribs for most men
although Darcy didn't appear to mind or register any pain. Introducing introductions were effected and Elizabeth learned what Caroline that Caroline was Caroline Bingley, a fashion designer and an old friend of Darcy's. As well as her own Brother-in-law's sister. I'll
just bet she is, Elizabeth thought coolly. A very old and good friend indeed. "But how have we come not to meet each other ever?" Caroline exclaimed now. "Where has dear Jane been keeping you?"
"I've been working abroad for a few years," Elizabeth said coolly now. "Unfortunately I went down with appendicitis at the crucial point and couldn't attend the wedding."
"Oh, I remember now," Caroline cooed, nodding solemnly. "How simply awful for you! But a teacher, how fascinating! "But how horrific, too. Having to cope with a roomful of rowdy brats every day. How I admire you! I simply couldn't cope with it, I'd wind up in the
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Local nut-house." within three months. How do you put up with it?" "It's a living," Elizabeth replied with some composure. not sure the kids would care for you much either, she thought silently. "
"And I'm not much good at anything else," she added. "Oh, I do think you're so amazing," Caroline Bingley said sweetly, with a perfectly apparent total lack of interest. "Darcy darling," she breathed, hurriedly moving on and with
a complete alteration in her manner, "I haven't seen you for much too long, and we have such a lot of things to discuss... You must ring me very very soon," she commanded autocratically.
"Good bye for now, sweetheart." She bestowed a butterfly kiss on Darcy's cheek, which he received with a slight smile, and then was gone, returning to her friends on the other side of the room.
Elizabeth felt rather subdued for some reason after Caroline Bingley's exit, but Darcy seemed unaffected, talking pleasantly of indifferent matters. The food was exceptionally good but Elizabeth's appetite didn't do it justice.
During a lull in the conversation, elizabeth realized that she had been 'miles away', abstracted into the private sadness that had so often taken hold of her these past two years. Coming back to awareness of the present moment, she
realized that the silence between Darcy and herself had gone on for rather a long time, and looked up at him. With that quick sudden movement she caught an expression on his face which she found it rather hard to read, and could say nothing with any certainty
other than that he had been watching her very steadily and intently. there was some feeling in his eyes she could not define, but perhaps, Elizabeth thought, he had merely been gazing at her with the same absence of mind she had been suffering, while thinking about
something else entirely. Caroline perhaps, she mentally sneered. But even as she caught that strange look upon Darcy's face, it was gone, replaced by a pleasant and casual smile which revealed absolutely nothing.
"tell me, Elizabeth," he said lightly, "why are you enrolling with the agency exactly? I mean, I know it's not precisely your own decision, it's Jane — dear jane! — who's persuaded you into it. But you're a big girl, all grown up indeed, and no sister on earth, presumably could
push you into anything that you were absolutely dead set against. So why? What I mean exactly, is that there are some people who, quite reasonably, decide that their mode of life and level of attractions mean that they need a little help and forethought in finding a
romantic partner. and then there are people who one would imagine would have no imaginable need of such a thing... so why, exactly? "Why am I joining a bureau of matrimonial introductions? Or, why can't I find a man under my own steam?
Elizabeth enquired, directly colouring and laughing slightly. "Well..." Darcy said slowly, and shrugged. "Of course, you'd be perfectly within your rights telling me it was absolutely none of my business.
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Indeed, feel free to do so." And he smiled at her, a casual, easy charm radiating from him. Oh, this guy knew how to use that charm on a woman, Elizabeth thought. A strong dose of it and she'd be telling him the secrets of her heart. Not that he'd be interested in hearing, of course.
"have you ever been in love?" he asked suddenly, taking her breath away with the directness of that one outrageous question. Elizabeth hesitated and did indeed think of telling him that that was
really none of his business. But under the direct gaze of those compelling blue eyes, she shifted uneasily. Somehow those eyes demanded truth from you. and also she felt a curious, subtle kind of defiance
begin to take light within herself. This man... this man with his admittedly strong attraction... judging by Jane's adulatory description he probably considered himself irresistible, Elizabeth thought righteously, with
an unreasonable anger. he probably thought that every woman in the world was waiting in a queue to fall in love with him. It would do him good to be reminded that that wasn't the case. Certainly not as far as she herself was concerned, elizabeth
thought vehemently. No, certainly not! "Yes, I've been in love," elizabeth replied sedately. Her gaze dropping as she lifted her glass of wine and toyed with it gently. the wine spilled a little on the tablecloth, however, as she was shaken with a wave of shivers,
as she realized that she was actually questioning whether that had ever been the case... I did love Frederick, I did love him once, she protested to her inner self, with an inexplicable violence. you finished it, an inexorable voice, one she had never before listened to,
insisted within her. You broke the engagement — you did that. He was irresponsible — he was wild — he cheated on me, Elizabeth protested to herself once more. And my mother disapproved of him. I loved Frederick once, but I stopped loving him because he treated me so badly.
Or was was I just getting my rejection in first, she wondered for the first time. His judgement of my parents, that he denied, but it was so plain... of My mother's undeniable immaturity, her shallow enthusiasms
her whining dependent need for support and praise and encouragement to prop up her shaky self-esteem, her rampant snobbery all the time? No: he used me. he drained me. He bored me.
so I broke the engagement and he got drunk and smashed his car into a brick wall, and when he got out of the hospital we agreed it was all over and he went off to join the merchant navy, Elizabeth concluded, and was frozen with horror and self-hatred at her own unforgivable past selfishness at this conclusion.
Gripping her wine glass very tightly, she sat staring sightlessly into empty space, barely conscious of her surroundings, and the world seemed in that instant a very dark, bleak, comfortless place.
"elizabeth? Elizabeth!" It was not the voice, quickening and sharpening with concern, that snapped her back into awareness of the present moment, but rather the strong, warm comforting grip of Darcy's hand on her own
Shaking her head a little dazedly, she looked up and met the blue blaze of those brilliant eyes, now afire with concern and a strong curiosity. What's
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wrong, girl? Tell me — you can tell me anything." Darcy's harsh voice was wickedly seductive, a persuasion no girl should be called upon to resist. Elizabeth held on for a few minutes and then gave in to the dark powerful call of that utterly male voice.
"I — I was in love once," Elizabeth confessed, stumbling over her own faltering words. "At least — I was engaged. But — just before the wedding — I called the whole thing off. I broke the engagement — and, oh, Frederick went out to a bar, he went alone and drank
for hours — and then he got into his car and he crashed it." Darcy's face was dark, sombre, unreadable. there was no expression in his face or voice as he asked, "He died?" "No. He didn't die," Elizabeth said, with a shake of relief in her trembling voice. "He didn't die. he joined the Navy, and was killed in an accident on board ship six months later. but — but — I know it wasn't my fault, you can't be responsible for
another person's actions, but — but — somehow it still doesn't feel that way." Elizabeth quavered to a halt, fighting back the brimming tears that defied all attempts at self-control. she failed, and two trickled down
her pale cheeks as she bent her head and searched desperately in her handbag for a tissue. Darcy made no attempt to comfort her this time, and for that Elizabeth was truly grateful. he had the subtle sensitivity to understand that at
certain moments a sympathetic gesture might be the very last thing called for, might indeed send a suffering person right over the edge into full scale grieving, maybe a weeping bout. As it was, with some difficulty
Elizabeth regained control of her face and of her tear ducts, discreetly dabbing her tears away with a tissue. Sighing as she achieved a fragile equilibrium, it made her uneasy to realize just how precarious was the balanced state in which she existed for most of the time.
"How along ago was this?" the dark-faced man she sat acros from abruptly demanded, as elizabeth summoned up sufficient composure to face and smile at the man.
"Two years," Elizabeth steadily replied, but the faint trace of pain and regret was there to be heard by the discerning in her voice, regret for two lost empty years filled only with pain and a useless
guilt. What had her guilt profited anyone, elizabeth asked herself despairingly, not for the first time. What good could it do Frederick, even? "Two years," she repeated, and that time it was almost a whisper. Darcy eyed her with a cool contemplation. Those intensely blue
eyes seemed uncomfortably to Elizabeth, to sear right down deep into her soul, to effortlessly summon summarise her and file away the mental notes for future reference. Every inch the business man, with his middle
name Casanova, Fitzwilliam Darcy, Elizabeth resentfully thought. "Two years since you were last out with a man?" he enquired softly. There was a faint disbelief in his cool tone. "Well, yes," elizabeth replied uncertainly. "I mean — properly out. apart from
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oh, friends, relatives, colleagues, things like that.” Friends? colleagues? Darcy pursued her. “No romantic involvement with any of them?” “No, none.” Elizabeth insisted, wondering why exactly
she felt faintly indignant. Didn’t he believe her or something? “So,” Darcy said meditatively. “For two years you’ve been avoiding at all costs the faintest romantic involvement with any man, is that right?” “Oh,
I suppose so,” elizabeth admitted, emotionally fatigued. It was true enough,. “Because of guilt? Because you felt responsible for your fiance’s death, even though reason tells you that that wasn’t the case?
His tone was cool, possessing little of the sympathy usually evinced by Elizabeth’s circle of friends. when they cautiously referred to Frederick’s death. in her presence. Somehow she felt just a little defensive, and nodded
mutely, then added sadly, “I felt, I suppose, as though I had no right to a real, full life, when, however indirectly, and rationally speaking, guiltlessly, I’d deprived Frederick of his.” Darcy
surveyed her for a long moment, with a thoughtful, measuring gaze. “and now, after two years of emotional hibernation, you’re joining a dating bureau of introductions. Not because you yourself have made the decision to plunge back
into the full flow of life, but because your sister has pushed you into it.” That’s true,” Elizabeth agreed with a wry smile. “I don’t really think that a bureau of matrimonial introductions is my kind of thing – but Jane is a difficult woman to say no to, you know.”
“I can believe it,” Darcy drawled drily. “I have at times experienced the full power of her personality. It’s an awe inspiring experience.” Elizabeth giggled, and agreed. Darcy smiled slightly, then casually
ordered more wine from a nearby waiter. Returning his attention to her, he examined her with an unreadable expression for a few moments, giving her no warning as to what was coming.
“You know, Elizabeth Bennet,” he murmured softly, and that murmur had more electric power than a shout from many another man, Elizabeth thought. “you’re a bit of a coward. You know that, don’t you?”
Elizabeth felt as if he had slapped her in the face. Then anger flooded through her. What kind of man was it who invited a girl out to dinner and then insulted her flagrantly? Tears pricked angrily at her eyes but she forced them back, fiercely.
“Just who do you think you are, Fitzwilliam Darcy?” elizabeth inquired with a quietly impassoned fury. “why do you think you’ve got a licence to go around, insulting people at will?”
Elizabeth gripped the edge of the table, vehement and fiery-eyed in the force of her emotion. Had she but known it she was probably the loveliest woman in the room at that moment. That old chestnut ‘you’re beautiful when you’re angry’ certainly applied to her with great appropriateness.
“Who? Why?” Darcy inquired back, idly repeating her. “I think I’m someone who’s telling you an unpalatable but important truth which you need to hear and assimilate in order to move on to a better way of life. why?
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because I think maybe - just maybe - you're worth the effort. "Oh thank you so much for that great compliment," Elizabeth sneered quickly, her voice shaking just a little. "Although just what you presume to think that you know about me when you've only just
met me is certainly a mystery." "I'm pretty good at reading people I'd say. I know plenty about you," Darcy drawled idly, smiling slightly in a way that somehow infuriated Elizabeth. "Oh really!"
she retorted. "and just what, may I ask, it is that you think you know about me that justifies you calling me a coward? Hey? To diagnose, unqualified at long distance? Unless Jane forgot to tell me about your ten years in medical school?"
"Hey?" elizabeth felt as if anger was flowing through every vein in her body, along with the blood in there, and somehow it was a good feeling, a great feeling, invigorating and cleansing. For the first time in these past two years, she realized, she felt really fully alive, as if she counted, as if she was taking hold
of her life by the scruff of the neck and making of it what she wanted. All because this man had the power to make her angry... "Why," Darcy answered her with an imperturbable calm, "What I know about you is all the things
you've told me. That after the man you rejected died you retreated into yourself and said no to life. That you couldn't accept that life is unpredictable and exciting, and that the other side of that excitement is risk. That you
preferred to heap guilt and responsibility for that tragedy on your own shoulders if it meant that you felt you were in control of your life and could shut out danger by shutting out life at the same time.
that you didn't have the courage to keep searching and accepting what life brought you, with faith in the goodness of people, the wisdom of Providence, believing that the love between a man and a woman can bring
trust and strength, and caring and protectiveness, not just trouble and pain and heartache. " He was silent and looked at her, and there was a gentleness in his face, but his eyes were hawk-like, piercing and unrelenting.
Elizabeth was silent too. she felt all hunched up inside herself, as if she didn't hold herself very very carefully she might just fall apart into a million little pieces, destroyed. Stunned, it didn't feel like she'd taken
everything in but - it felt like the truth he was telling her. Her rational mind appeared to have shut up shop for the time being, and temporarily she had only her emotions and instincts to guide her, and emotionally, instinctively
she felt like - oh, hell, admit it, she thought to herself. He was right. "It's not such a terrible thing," that merciless, gentle voice went on to inform her. Elizabeth raised her eyes to meet his, ice-blue chips that yet were not
cold, no, not cold at all. "Isn't it?" she asked slowly. "You're right, you know. You're absolutely right. and it seems pretty terrible to me. I've wasted two years of my life, holding in, holding back, refusing
to experience anything in life, good or bad, just in case there might be pain in it. I might as well
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Have died with Fred, it would have had much the same result. What I've done is to compound a tragedy, not do penance for any supposed sin." "You poor baby," Darcy murmured gently, but there was a rough edge to his voice that
was indicative of repressed amusement. lightly he reached out and briefly touched her cheek. Elizabeth, eyes dark, hollow and wondering, reached up and re-touched that patch of skin where his fingers
had brushed, grazing her cheek and with short white-tipped fingernails. "So, you're conceited as well as a bit of a coward, eh?" Darcy mused, but the tone of his voice suggested to Elizabeth that he was teasing her, and she raised questioning eyes to his.
"Oh, no," she protested weakly, not with anger but with mock despair, responding almost unconsciously to the incipient laughter she was hearing , behind his words. "Why on earth do you say that?! That's something I wouldn't have thought anybody would accuse me of -
anything but that, surely?" "Oh yes," Darcy insisted, inexorable and steely. "Conceited. Absolutely." He smiled faintly and took hold of her hand in a firm clasp that brooked no struggle to break free on her part.
"You know, you can't take all the sins of the world onto your shoulders and rate yourself on a par with Lucifer, just because you've spent two years being rather foolish and frightened and apprehensive of the big old world out there
after having received a nasty knock from life. You really can't - I forbid it!" He grinned at her, and the words of outraged protest that had sprung to Elizabeth's lips died there. "Apart from anything else," Darcy firmly continued, "it's conceited! It's egotistical! Everybody takes the easy option sometimes. Everybody takes one
hard knock too many once in a while and decides it's easier to retreat into a shell for a while and not do anything risky - like even sticking their head out to see what's going on outside their own front door,
figuratively speaking! I hate to tell you this - mostly because you'll probably throw your wine at me - but you are not unique. Not in that respect, anyway!" Contemplatively his bright, fiercely intelligent eyes lingered on her face.
Elizabeth wondered shyly in just what respect he did consider her to be unique, but, as a waver of fatigue passed over her, decided that he was just being polite, probably. It was difficult to think of anything unique about herself. Without in any way having
ever suffered from the unattractive quality of false modesty, she had never considered herself to be fascinating, to be a femme fatale - of the type that Darcy's good friend, Caroline no doubt styled herself, Elizabeth thought with a strange uncharacteristic sourness.
There was irony in that, Elizabeth realized with a catch of the breath - since she had indeed proved to be a femme fatale, a fatal woman - to Fred, at any rate. But, she thought, consoling herself in a bitter way, it was
probably true to say that in fact it was Fred who had proved fatal to himself - his weakness, his folly, dependence, and viciousness in the old fashioned sense of the actual vice, these things had combined in the end and
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proved to be the death of him. "Hey." Darcy drew her back to the present moment, with a firm authority. "Come away, come out of that dream world you've floated away into. Come out and meet the real world again - it's difficult sometimes, but it's worth it."
Elizabeth smiled at him tentatively, feeling that she owed him something, somehow for having jerked her with greater force and effect than Jane, into the realisation that the life she had led since Fred's death was
simply not worthwhile, not courageous, not good enough. and yet, she thought unclearly, a kind of resentment underlay that rational gratitude - or was it resentment exactly? Elizabeth felt somehow that
she would have trouble identifying and putting a name to it. "That's a lovely smile. You should smile more often," Darcy commented, yet there was a detached quality about that compliment, as if he
was standing very far back from her and perhaps thinking about something else entirely. Perhaps he was, Elizabeth thought, it would not be surprising to her if even now she was failing to occupy the whole mind of a
busy charming charismatic man like Fitzwilliam Darcy. "You're recovering now, aren't you, elizabeth - or at least you're ready to take that first step towards recovery. Aren't you?" Darcy's eyes
hypnotically demanding, required an affirmative answer of her, and Elizabeth stumbled a little shyly as she made it. "I think well, I think so. I mean to have a jolly good try anyway, she confided in a burst of enthusiasm, enthusiasm this man
seemed to spark in her as easily as he sparked other strong feelings. "Good for you, kid," he encouraged her, and seemed to relax, his face warming, radiating approval in elizabeth's direction. "It won't be so bad,
I promise you. You deserve a better time than you've had these past couple of years. And you'll have it, too. Joining my agency is a step in the right direction. It's going to be - very interesting." Suddenly an enigmatic, secret smile seemed to close Darcy's face to her. yes, very interesting.
"What do you mean, Darcy, if I may ask?" Elizabeth enquired, feeling mysteriously disturbed, faintly uneasy. because of his expression and tone. There was something there that she didn't understand.
"Nothing you need to worry about, Elizabeth, nothing at all," Darcy replied, still smiling. "Jane did exactly the right thing when she enrolled you. It's going to open up your whole life, you'll see."
Darcy paid the bill and drove her home, cruising casually along the late night roads. The dark star filled sky was beautiful and Elizabeth gazed out at it rather than look at Darcy, feeling perturbed in a way
she couldn't understand. This man, this strange, troubling, fascinating man, she had only met him this evening. She had just a few hours ago met him, after being warned off him as being out of her class by her loving sister, and later
watched him being fondly embraced by Caroline Bingley, whom she suspected of being his mistress or ex mistress. Heavens, she was only going to become a client of the man's business,
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Elizabeth reminded herself. Fitzwilliam Darcy was a business friend of her brother in law's, that was absolutely all! As they drew up at Charles and Jane's house, where elizabeth was staying for the weekend
she began rather fumblingly, to gather up her bag and jacket . But as darcy turned towards her he laid a hand on her arm, his face dark, unreadable, and somehow she was stilled. "What is it, Darcy?" Elizabeth asked, stumbling a little over her words and perhaps just a little confused.
But he was silent for a moment, looking deep into her eyes. Then, slowly, and with a curious halting quality to his voice that she had never yet heard, he murmured deeply, "You know, Elizabeth, we could save each other a lot of time..."
Elizabeth felt bewildered, even frightened, though of what she didn't know and just why she couldn't say. "What do you mean?" she asked him, in a voice that was barely a whisper, more like a quaver.
"I mean," he said slowly, and with deliberation, "that's it's going to take a hell of a long time, my dating agency putting your details through the computer and coming up with various candidates in the search for your ideal man. Much too long."
"So what do you suggest?" Elizabeth questioned, feeling somehow a little breathless and dizzy and excited, though rationally she couldn't really have said why. "I suggest," Darcy said, smiling down at her, with the moonlight
catching the lights of his grey-streaked hair, turning it to silver, and shadowing his electric blue eyes, that we cut through all of the tedious formalities and guess work in between, and go straight to the only possible
conclusion any computer or human being could come up with, given the very special, personal details and complexities of your particular case, Elizabeth." "And just what is that, Darcy?" Elizabeth asked him, feeling lost in a maze
without a map. What is it that's going on here, she asked herself. There's something here that I don't understand. Her puzzled, heart shaped face, illuminated by the moon, was delicately lovely, her wide grey eyes questioning and soulful. Darcy
Darcy caught his breath faintly as he answered her. "That is, Elizabeth, as you must - you must know, only too well, that I am the ideal man for you - in just the way that you're the only possible woman in the world for me."
There was silence for many seconds when Darcy ceased to speak, and it seemed to Elizabeth that that silence was so deep it must hold sway all over the world. "You're - you're crazy," she managed to stutter out finally, and
then laughed, a high wild laugh that contained no real amusement. "Do you think so?" Fitzwilliam Darcy softly enquired, as he bent his silvered head, and then suddenly her lips were captured and it felt to Elizabeth as if she
had been transported to another world entirely. This moment was so compelling and beautiful that she could only wonder and lose herself in it, succumbing
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to the power and grace of Fitzwilliam Darcy's personality, his kiss taking her into a dreamworld as she knew she had never experienced anything so lovely and heartbreaking. Even if he was the heartbreaker Jane said,
even if all this was just a smooth, a very smooth chat up line, - she could entirely understand any other woman falling for it - and could not seem to prevent herself from falling.
Dazed and conquered, Elizabeth's arms seemed to steal up about Darcy's neck of their own volition and a little sigh escaped her as his lips stole spine tinglingly across her cheek and down her neck. Idly his hand wandered
over her loosely caught up auburn hair, toying with a curl with a subtle sensuality. For a few minutes she had managed to ignore the scandalized hissings of her rational mind, but all at once it became too loud and clamorous for her to
ignore be able to take no notice of it. With a fierce and unwarned violence she pulled herself out of Darcy's arms, leaving herself trembling with a mixture of excitement and amazement.
darcy's face hardened a little, and his flashing passionate eyes became thoughtful, but he made no protest nor moved to take her back in his arms. he smiled slightly at her, a hard inner smile that seemed born of inner thought and purpose. Not ready, Elizabeth girl?" he inquired.
"What do you mean? Elizabeth choked. "Not ready for a fling with you to drag me back into the world of normal courtship rituals between men and women? No, Darcy, I'll never be ready for that! Spare me your favours,
save them for women who can handle a man like you! I think perhaps you've mistaken the kind of woman I am!" Darcy nodded slightly as if to himself, his eyes just faintly narrowed
"So that's how you want to see it," he murmured to himself. "I might have known." "And just how do you see it then, Darcy, if I might ask?" Elizabeth expostulated. "And don't think I'll fall for any of your smooth talk! jane's already
warned me about you - I know quite enough about men like you!" "I'm sure you think you do," Darcy agreed smoothly. "But there's no need to get worked up about it, darling. If you're not ready for... a fling, with me
we'll just have to do this the hard way. Fill out the agency forms - Jane has copies - and we'll run them through the computer double quick'- I'll arrange for you to jump the queue."
"Thank you. How kind," Elizabeth muttered, anger and excitement and unease still warring in her stormy breast, her bosom heaving emphatically beneath her white silk blouse. "Isn't it," Darcy smoothly replied. "Then, the computer will pick out a list of
suitable men for you - and you can go through and discard them one by one until you've realized that however suitable they are - none of them are really right for you. And, by that time, you should be ready..."
"For you," elizabeth enquired with pointed sarcasm "precisely! You're very quick on the uptake, Elizabeth. I approve of that in a woman," Darcy informed her with a teasing warmth that apparently failed to melt
the iciness of Elizabeth's manner. yet she wondered, half despairingly, why was
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her reaction to this man so hostile? Maybe he was right! Maybe a man like Fitzwilliam Darcy was exactly what she needed! But no, she replied to herself with cold rationality. a fling was all she
could expect from a man like Fitzwilliam Darcy, a smooth talking charmer searching for an ideal, a romantic cynic - not a contradiction in terms - whom no woman would surely be able to hold for long. Starting off the evening,
she had thought that perhaps a little dalliance with Fitzwilliam Darcy might prove entertaining, might give dear jane a little bit of a jolt. But no, she thought now. She was much too emotionally fragile, still,
to take crazy risks like that. It would be folly, madness. "You know you're crazy?" Elizabeth asked him pleasantly, shaking a little. "Crazy. Good night. I'll see you around."
"Oh you will. I'll be keeping a very close eye on your case," Fitzwilliam smoothly agreed. Elizabeth shook her head disbelievingly and got out of the car. Half an hour later, tucked up in Jane and charles' spare room bed, bewilderment at the evening's
events kept her awake for a while before fatigue claimed her. xxx "So what did you think of him?" Jane casually enquired, as they lazed over a late Saturday morning breakfast the next day. "who?" Elizabeth innocently enquired.
If Jane seriously thought she was going to discuss that man with her..." "Oh come off it, Elizabeth," jane rather cynically replied. "You know damn well who Fitzwilliam Darcy, that's who."
"And what about him, exactly,?" elizabeth spread jam on her toast in a fine attempt at unconcern, slightly spoilt by dropping an apricot-flavoured blob on the kitchen tiles. "Stop being so mildly casual, woman," jane snapped.
"and don't try to pretend he isn't the most attractive man you ever met." Elizabeth appeared to consider this statement soberly, knowing full well that she was irritating the heck out of Jane by doing so.
"Do you really think so?" she enquired thoughtfully. "The most attractive? I don't know about that, really - although there's no doubt he is a very good looking specimen - perhaps the seventh most attractive, shall we say - or
maybe even the sixth! Maybe... Oh, no, though, I think not." "Stop it, Lizzy," Jane exclaimed petulantly, slamming the toast rack down as she took a piece. Then she giggled. "Come on, woman, he is gorgeous, now isn't he?
If I wasn't a happily married old woman..." "Oh, yeah, at twenty-seven you're on the verge of senility, definitely," Elizabeth agreed , with some degree of sarcasm. "Well, I hope not, not altogether," jane sighed. "Seeing as I'll be
producing the first bingley offspring this generation in due course, I'd better keep myself in good nick, don't you think?" "What?" Elizabeth's jaw dropped, and her piece of toast fell out of her lax hand.
"Jane! Darling!" She sprang up and embraced her dizzy blonde sister, and they both shed a few tears, which quickly turned to laughter.
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“you should have seen Charles’ face when I told him last night while you were out,” Jane informed her. “We’ve been trying so long we’d pretty much given up hope – then when he got the news he acted like
somebody had dropped a ten ton weight on his head! He was so shocked he couldn’t speak till I’d poured half a gallon of spirits down his throat!”
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It’s a fact pretty darn widely known – jolly well known, in fact, what ho, folks! – that when a topping girl finds that her elder sister has got herself a husband, then all kinds of
trouble is awfully likely to ensue – or at least, liklely to ensue, if said girl has a mother anything like one Billie Bennet, a.k.a. Mrs Frederick Bennet, address the charming little village of
Longbourn, close to thatdrivelling watering-hole Meryton, which infests the Home counties somewhere south of the better bits of old London town. And didn’t one Miss Elizabeth Bennet know it!
The issue being – you see – that, just as long as Jane – darling jane! was herself of the single state, every bit as much as her four not-so-darling sisters – then Elizabeth was all in the clear,and
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avoid the frantic and anxiety-ridden of her mother, thedream of whose life was toget all of her family of girls lucratively married off. jane being the eldest of the five Bennet daughters, and easily the most
stunning and pulchritudinous – cripes, what a corker, it was a matter gnerally admitted! However, just as long as jane remained single, even though Mrs Bennet would dearly have liked to find some charming, fiftyish, balding American millionaire
for each and every one of them, still the main focus of her attention was upon her eldest daughter. Jane the beautiful, the sure and certain saviour of the Bennet family fortunes!
That being the itch in the back, the hair in the jolly old G’n’T, you see – the Bennet family fortunes being in a sadly parlous state, if truth be told, and Mrs Bennet’s gibbering and obsessive concerns
not being, really, a bit overstating the case and over-egging the pudding. But still: a girl may be co-operative, and awfully helpful to the womb that spawned her, and in general and in theory only too willing to drag thenearest transatlantic plutocrat to the alter, if it
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should please her mother, and keep the dear old family unit ensconced in the dear old family ancestral shack. And Elizabeth Bennet – second daughter of the Longbourn Bennets, and quite a pretty girl herself, although not a patch on the angelic Jane –
might indeed have been willing to go along with such a crafty scheme, if any likely bounder simply oilywith the good old green stuff had made himself apparent upon the scene. but – the trouble being – that every since the sainted jane had got herself
affianced, and then padlocked for life, last year to one delightful Charles Bingley Esquire, well! One might think, or expect, that Mrs Bennet would have been delighted all around by this result. and indeed, for a short period of time, she was
Notazit (Guest) on Chapter 2 Wed 19 Mar 2025 12:45AM UTC
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Yarashiku_Onegai on Chapter 2 Wed 19 Mar 2025 02:25AM UTC
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