Relive the witty and romantic story of Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy once again in this charming Pride and Prejudice retelling from Darcy’s point of view. For fans of historical romance like the Bridgerton novels to lovers of alternative point-of-view books like E. L. James’ Grey and Stephenie Meyers’s Midnight Sun, Darcy’s Passions invites readers into the heart and mind of Fitzwilliam Darcy, revealing the hidden thoughts and intense emotions that fueled his riveting courtship of Elizabeth Bennet. While the Bennet sisters are discussing the next ball to attend, placating their mother and fretting over potential suitors at their Longbourn estate, Mr. Darcy is moving into Netherfield Park, worrying over his young sister and attempting to maintain his position in society. One night at a town assembly, he meets Miss Elizabeth Bennet, a challenging yet beautiful young woman whose position and fortune in life is decidedly below his own. But he’s intrigued, and her presence simply can’t be ignored.Darcy’s Passions reimagines one of the most iconic love stories of all time, with an inside look at every thought behind Mr. Darcy’s stoic demeanor, cool glances, and quiet longing for our beloved and witty Elizabeth Bennet. Through Darcy’s eyes, we’ll see their epic love story unfold, understanding the heart and mind of the man that has captivated readers for centuries.
A sweet romance retelling of “Pride and Prejudice” from Mr. Darcy’s perspective, revealing his hidden thoughts and emotions as he falls in love with Elizabeth Bennet.
Classic tropes you’ll love in Darcy’s Passions:
Enemies to lovers
Unlikely match / opposites attract
Marriage plot
Slow burn romance
Witty heroine
Charming villain
Hero falls first
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Chapter Four
“You take delight in vexing me.”
LEAVING THE OTHERS to their entertainments, Darcy closed the door solidly behind him and stood quietly replaying the last half hour. With a shrug of defeat, he turned to the stairs leading to his chambers. His ears still rang with the witty remarks slung at Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Literally lifting his shoulders to steady his resolve, Darcy opened his eyes to find himself face-to-face with the image, which haunted his every private moment. “Miss . . . Miss Elizabeth,” he stammered. “I did not expect to discover you here.” He offered her a proper bow.
Returning a small curtsy, she replied only with his name and moved past him. Belatedly, it dawned on him that Elizabeth carried a tray with an ewer of water and a large bowl and clean cloths. A bit taken aback, he said with more incredulousness than he intended, “Miss Elizabeth, should not one of the maids be assisting you?”
“My sister required fresh drinking water, and I must also bathe her feverish brow. I wished not to bother Mr. Bingley’s staff. They have so much to do already. I fear my family is a terrible imposition on his household and his kindness.”
“Nonsense,” he began, and then he realized it might appear a reprimand, so Darcy softened both his tone and his words. “Mr. Bingley would expect nothing less from his staff. It is the neighborly thing to do. Allow me to call someone to assist you.”
“No,” she pleaded. “I would not wish to embarrass myself or my family further in Mr. Bingley’s estimation. Please, sir, allow me to do this without his knowledge.”
“Very well, then,” he relented. “Would you permit my assistance? The pitcher is full and, therefore, heavy, and the stairs are both narrow and steep.”
He watched intently as Elizabeth dropped her eyes in assent. He stepped forward and took the water pitcher from the tray. They ascended the steps side-by-side. Darcy found he could not remove his eyes from the smoothness of her cheek nor the auburn curls that caressed it. At her sister’s room, she retrieved the tray from his grasp and entered first to place it on a nearby table. Darcy waited at the door’s threshold. Seconds later, she returned to retrieve the additional water pitcher from his hands. “Mr. Darcy, your kindness was most generous.”
Her eyes did not meet his as openly as Darcy prayed they would. “It is my pleasure to be of service to you, Miss Elizabeth.” As she accepted the pitcher, her fingers touched his during the exchange. The sensation zinged through Darcy’s body: He took an awkward step backwards. Before he could recover completely, Miss Elizabeth dropped a quick curtsy and disappeared into her sister’s chamber.
Darcy rushed to his chambers. His mind raced. The brief warmth from her skin ricocheted through his body. His hands actually shook as he reached for a recent letter from his sister. He must find a means to clear his mind of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. As odd as it was to admit, the lady’s touch had aroused him. With forced determination, he swallowed his desire. Snatching up the letter from his sister, he made himself think of something other than a saucy country miss.
10 November
My dearest William,
Your letters provide me such pleasure. The accounts of your activities in Hertfordshire are quite amusing. I do not laugh at you, my darling brother; I would never think of doing such an unattractive thing; yet, I do find it amusing how your affection for Mr. Bingley has placed you in a position to be an observer of these sundry activities. I delight at your retellings.
Sir William Lucas may be pompous, but I am confident that he possesses a compassionate heart. His joy at giving pleasure to his neighbors showed through your narration. Not all can be exposed to fine society; I admire Sir William for raising himself to the recognition he has been afforded at St. James. However, I was a bit surprised at your censure of the behavior of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst at the entertainment. Their actions must be poor, indeed, for you to take such notice. I was happy you gave credit to your dear friend. Mr. Bingley is much favored by having you as his commendable model. Your recollection of Miss Elizabeth Bennet’s musical interlude at least brought you some pleasure that particular evening. From your description, Miss Bennet must possess true talent; I am certain such qualities make her all the more attractive to gentlemen. Being accomplished in music is a virtue to which many women strive.
Mrs. Annesley says my needlework requires a purpose. She has, of late, convinced me to assist Derbyshire’s poor by creating pieces to be given to the children by the local vicar. He, when we attended church there last, preached upon the need of the rich to show charity to the poor. The lesson included the rewarding of such actions ten times over. Last week in our lessons, I was introduced to the phrase “noblesse oblige,” which you understand to be translated into the “likewise obligation.” I took it to be a mantra of what I should do. Although I am, admittedly, a bit shy about viewing my needlework presented to others, I hope I have your blessing in this endeavor.
Dearest brother, please extend to Mr. Bingley and his family my deepest regards and respect. Your loving sister . . . Georgiana
Darcy closed the letter and placed it in the desk drawer. As he hoped, the missive brought him a sense of calm. It was a stark reminder of where his heart and his duty remained. Pemberley. Georgiana. His tenants. He held responsibilities. He had an obligation to his family name. He had never felt as he had the past few weeks. He was generally considered to be a man of position—of control. It seemed of late he possessed no restraint; a pair of fine eyes and a wry smile had created havoc. He wished for someone in whom he could confide and from whom he could seek advice. Oh, to have his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, at Netherfield! Edward would know what to do. For now, Darcy resolved that he would answer his sister this very evening. If she found his narrative of the assembly and the supper at Sir William’s amusing, the change in the Netherfield dynamics should bring her “great joy” indeed. Darcy wished he could find the simple pleasure in life Georgiana did. Of course, she was but a child. Such antics would not seem so amusing if his sister knew the extent of his involvement in Hertfordshire society. She might even pity her brother’s position at the hands of a saucy maiden. Darcy wished Georgiana was older and could be his confidant; his “troubles” with Miss Elizabeth Bennet, however, were exactly that—his troubles. No one could resolve them but him.
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The Bingley household gathered in the drawing room. Mr. Hurst and Mr. Bingley were at piquet, and Mrs. Hurst observed their game. As was his earlier intention, seated at the desk in the room, Darcy wrote to his sister. Miss Bingley, finding nothing of her own for amusement, scrutinized his progress. Eventually, Elizabeth joined the group. He noted how the lady took up her needlework and observed the others.
14 November
My darling sister,
I am pleased my letters are a source of entertainment. Such was not my intent, but I feel no offense in your finding them so. Our party at Netherfield Park has increased by two. After spending an invigorating evening with Colonel Forster and some of his senior officers, Bingley and I returned to Netherfield on the tenth to discover Miss Jane Bennet had taken ill during her supper with Mr. Bingley’s sisters. Rather than sending her home in a consistent downpour, the Bingleys provided Miss Bennet accommodations. Miss Bennet is a favorite with Charles. A pretty face, which Miss Bennet does possess, often smites him. Reputedly, she is the prettiest girl in the area. While also being extremely concerned about the lady’s health, Bingley secretly delighted in having Miss Jane Bennet ill while at Netherfield. To his credit, Bingley considered sending to London for a physician.
Miss Bingley, my dear, wishes me to interrupt my letter at this point to tell you how enraptured she is with your design for the table you decorated recently. Truthfully, not wishing to take away from Caroline’s “raptures,” lately I find her compliments for everything relating to the Darcys and to Pemberley as annoyingly placating. If not for Bingley, I would disassociate myself from her.
The other member of our party is Miss Elizabeth Bennet, who has been asked to join us and to attend her sister. Actually, I suggested this to Bingley. His having shown Miss Bennet as his local choice, it would not be proper for the lady to stay at Netherfield Park without a chaperone. Propriety must be maintained. This is the same Miss Elizabeth of whom I spoke previously.
Miss Elizabeth and Mr. Bingley are both of a playful nature, and I, unfortunately, became the target of a recent rebuke. Bingley, when speaking to Miss Elizabeth earlier in the day, confided his tendency towards indecision. Then he insinuated his slapdash handwriting to be a result of his thoughts coming too quickly for his hand to translate them properly. Miss Elizabeth found his humility endearing. I should have resisted the impulse to respond to Bingley’s posturing, but I do so detest deceitful appearances. Obviously, poor Bingley is too fine of a friend. He often absorbs my criticisms and still considers me his partisan. Unfortunately, I listed in some detail a litany of Bingley’s flaws, including his lack of attention to detail in his muddled script. I claimed Bingley’s inconstancy to be troublesome, where Miss Elizabeth believed in general and ordinary cases between friends, where one of them desired the other to change, the person would comply with the desire, without waiting to be argued into it. Her wit turned my argument in Bingley’s favor. This is not the first time Miss Elizabeth and I verbally opposed each other. Although you probably think I find this offensive, I do not. It is such a contrast to Miss Bingley’s fawning over my every move that I admit I sometimes purposely engage Miss Elizabeth’s attention. The only thing I regret in the exchange is an offhand remark by Bingley about my “dark” nature. He insinuated I could be an imposing figure, especially of a Sunday evening when I have nothing to do. The gravity of his statement was an indignity I did not expect from my friend, but one I must consider further.
As to my objecting to your giving needlework or other such items to the poor in Derbyshire, you will hear no such complaint. Giving to the poor has always been a program our family has embraced. Our parents are warmly remembered for such generosity. How could I object to your following their example? Our mother would be as proud of her daughter as I am of my sister.
Your loving brother, F.
As the evening progressed, Darcy, having finished his letter, applied to both Miss Bingley and Miss Elizabeth for selections of musical entertainment. Jumping, literally, at the opportunity to do something to achieve his favor, Miss Bingley was beside the pianoforte before she realized her duties as the hostess. “Miss Elizabeth,” she said through gritted teeth, “would you favor us by going first?”
“Please proceed, Miss Bingley,” Miss Elizabeth responded sweetly, “your skill should take primacy to my pleasure.”
Mrs. Hurst joined her sister as they offered up several Italian love songs to demonstrate their expertise. Afterwards, Darcy watched as Miss Elizabeth moved to the instrument to peruse the music found there. Enthralled with her earlier performance, Elizabeth’s deferment to Miss Bingley had initially disappointed Darcy. Still, the comparable pleasure of watching her figure from afar was nearly as intoxicating. He mentally created a list of her mannerisms—the biting of her lower lip when concentrating on her needlework, the creased forehead when she challenged him, and the curl, which often fell along her chin line in a caress of her neck. Darcy observed little in Miss Elizabeth, which did not fascinate him. Before he realized what he did, he moved to stand beside her at the instrument. Like it or not, the air intensified around him.
Miss Bingley frowned dramatically. The lady abandoned her Italian love songs and instead played a lively Scottish air. Caroline did little to disguise her disdain at viewing him standing so close to Miss Elizabeth. Yet, Darcy did not care. In a lavender-induced trance, he said to the lady, “Do you not feel a great inclination, Miss Elizabeth, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?”
As soon as he said the words, annoyance filled him. He had wanted desperately to say something, which would engage Miss Elizabeth and perhaps have her finally dance with him, but she could easily assume he found her social origins lacking. Those of refined and exacting taste did, after all, not prefer reels.
At first, Miss Elizabeth smiled at him, but she made no answer. Her silence had surprised him. He could not change his question, so he repeated it.
“Never fear, Mr. Darcy, I heard you; but I could not immediately determine my reply. You wanted me, I know, to say, ‘Yes,’ so you might have the pleasure of despising my taste; but I always delight in overthrowing those kinds of schemes, and cheating a person of their premeditated contempt. I therefore must tell you that I do not want to dance a reel at all; and now despise me if you dare.”
Darcy could never despise her. She was resplendent! “Despise you? Indeed, I do not dare. No, madam, I could never have such an opinion of you,” he said before bowing to her. Feeling her eyes piercing his back, he left the room and took refuge in the study. Pouring a full brandy, Darcy collapsed into a nearby chair. As he ran his fingers through his hair, he realized no woman had ever affected him in such a manner. She had bewitched him. If not for the inferiority of her connections, Darcy would be in danger of falling in love with Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
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The evening meal found changes in the Netherfield party’s makeup; Miss Bennet made an appearance in the drawing room upon the meal’s completion. Darcy offered his congratulations regarding her recovery and watched his close friend stoking the fire to warm the room and to attend to Miss Bennet’s every need.
Meanwhile, he found a chair where he could observe Elizabeth, who obviously delighted in the attention being presented to her sister by the master of the house. Having no wish to play cards, he chose to read, with Miss Bingley following suit. Assuredly, Miss Bingley held no real interest in books; her pretense was for Darcy’s sake, and he knew it. In reality, Miss Bingley watched his every move; she would interfere if he showed attention to Miss Elizabeth, which was another fact he recognized. Miss Bingley tormented him with questions on what he read and what it meant; however, her design for his consideration proved fruitless. Darcy steadfastly continued to read. Quite exhausted by her efforts, Caroline tossed her chosen book aside. Although it was difficult, Darcy did not flinch when she so carelessly abused the tome. He held books in great reverence, and the lady’s lack of respect for the value of the written word rubbed raw against his nature. He was pleased to note that Elizabeth sported a like frown of disapproval.
Finally, Miss Bingley resorted to the one area in which she felt she excelled over Elizabeth Bennet—physical beauty—and she seized the opportunity of being noticed by walking about the room. Darcy, upon whom Miss Bingley evidently directed her attention, steadfastly continued to read, never even raising an eyebrow or looking her way. The lady’s desperation must have returned because Caroline turned to Miss Elizabeth to say, “Miss Eliza Bennet, let me persuade you to follow my example and take a turn about the room. I assure you it is very refreshing after sitting so long in one attitude.”
Miss Bingley finally succeeded in one area: She received Darcy’s attention. He looked up, surprised to view Miss Elizabeth consenting to such a devious plan. Why Caroline chose to invite Elizabeth to join her piqued his curiosity. Elizabeth, too, appeared wary of the invitation. Without knowledge of his actions, Darcy unconsciously closed his book. “Will you not join us, Mr. Darcy?” Miss Bingley purred.
“I will decline your kind offer. I assume you have but two motives for choosing to walk up and down the room together, and I would interfere with either of them.”
Never able to decipher his double-meaning barbs, Caroline asked, “What could he mean, Miss Eliza?”
Miss Elizabeth, on the other hand, was well acquainted with his tone. Her chin rose in defiance. Gloriously, she would match him wit for wit. Darcy recognized the resolve of her shoulders, the half-stifled grin playing about her lips, and the arching of an eyebrow. All these things sent sensations through his body; every nerve pulsed in anticipation. Miss Elizabeth turned slightly towards him. It was all he could do not to walk over and take her in his arms. She taunted, “Depend upon it; he means to be severe on us and our surest way of disappointing him will be to ask nothing about it.”
Very good. It was exactly the kind of repartee he had come to expect from the lady, unlike her walking partner. Caroline would do nothing to draw his disfavor.
Miss Bingley asked, “Mr. Darcy, whatever can you mean by such a remark? You must explain as we are very anxious to know its meaning.”
Darcy delayed his response. “I have not the smallest objection to explaining them. You either choose this method of passing the evening because you are in each other’s confidences and have secret affairs to discuss or because you are conscious that your figures appear to the greatest advantage in walking.” At this point he paused to increase the drama. “If the first, I should be completely in your way; and if the second, I can admire you much better as I sit by the fire.”
En garde, Elizabeth Bennet. The thought briefly slid across his mind. His eyes met hers, locking in a secret desire. Maintaining his gaze, he heard Miss Bingley’s stunned response, “Oh, shocking! I never heard anything so abominable. How shall we punish him for such a speech?”
Darcy waited in anticipation for Elizabeth’s response. “Tease him–laugh at him. Intimate as your families are, you must know how it is to be done.” He had never expected she would dare to laugh at him.
As much as he hoped to maintain her gaze, Darcy experienced a momentary glint of uncertainty and dropped his eyes, breaking the bond. Naturally, Miss Bingley would never speak ill of him; she had desired his good opinion for too long to defy him on any subject. Elizabeth, on the other hand, allowed her mirth to carry away her good sense; she did not allow her love of nonsense to wane. She taunted unmercifully, “Mr. Darcy does nothing which might amuse his friends? I would not require many such friends, for I most dearly love to laugh.”
Not able to abandon the serious armor, which had served him well in the past, Darcy assumed an air of superiority. “Miss Bingley has given me credit for more than can be. The wisest and best of men–nay the wisest and best of their actions—may be rendered ridiculous by a person whose first object in life is a joke.”
Amused by her own cleverness, Elizabeth replied, “Without a doubt, there are such people, but I hope I am not one; I hope I never ridicule what is wise or good. Follies and nonsense, whims and inconsistencies, do divert me, I own, and I laugh at them whenever I can. But these, I suppose, are precisely what you are without.”
Having spent his life despising any form of personal failings, Darcy’s former affectionate gaze took on a steeled impalement; nearly biting the words, he said, “Perhaps that is not possible for anyone. But it has been the study of my life to avoid such weaknesses which often expose a strong understanding to ridicule.”
“What sort of weaknesses, Mr. Darcy? Would, say, vanity or possibly pride be such a weakness?” she retorted.
Swallowing hard, Darcy steadied himself before giving a response. “Yes, vanity is a weakness. But pride—where there is a real superiority of mind—pride will be always under good regulation.”
Miss Elizabeth’s suppression of a smile surprised Darcy. He found nothing amusing in what he had said. He meant his response to be a diplomatic answer. She had gone too far. Amusing repartee was one thing, but he would not be her target, no matter what attraction he felt for her.
Miss Bingley immediately regretted beginning this folly, “Please, let this be an end to such discourse.”
Elizabeth, meanwhile, feigned innocence and coquettishly deflected her affront. “I agree, Miss Bingley, Mr. Darcy has no faults; perfection is within his reach.”
“No,” Darcy snapped before he could school his tone. “I have made no such pretense,” he declared obstinately. Miss Elizabeth obviously knew nothing of superior society. “I have faults enough,” he continued, “but they are not, I hope, of understanding. My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding; certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever!”
Earlier Miss Elizabeth had defended Bingley’s appearing humble, but she had attacked him! Darcy came to the speedy conclusion that she cared not to recognize his worth. He had misjudged her excellence!
She insisted, “Your faults, as you define them, Mr. Darcy, are not open to scorn; possibly they are a bit too dark in nature, but they are not failings. I will not laugh at you, Mr. Darcy; you have nothing to fear from me.”
She gave him a slight curtsy and started to turn away. Wait, this is not finished! Before Elizabeth could take a step, he froze her in place by coldly saying, “There is, I believe, in every disposition a tendency to some particular evil, a natural defect, which not even the best education can overcome.”
She turned roughly to him. Her eyes flashed with anger. “Your defect, Mr. Darcy, is a propensity to hate everybody.”
“And yours, Miss Elizabeth,” he replied with a smile, “is willfully to misunderstand them.” For a moment they held each other’s application; then, Darcy nodded his head to permit Elizabeth to return to her sister. His emotional turmoil became difficult to conceal. He had discovered paying so much attention to Miss Elizabeth Bennet was a dangerous endeavor.
After their near altercation in Bingley’s drawing room, with renewed resolve, Darcy was determined to banish his blossoming feelings for Miss Elizabeth. She had been at Netherfield for only a few days, and he nearly displayed his obsession with her. Miss Elizabeth appeared in his thoughts throughout the day and danced in his dreams at night. Today he decided to take no notice of her. He would not allow her hopes to develop, especially if his previous actions suggested his regard for her. What he executed in her last days at Netherfield would give weight in confirming or crushing those expectations. To that resolution, Darcy applied himself towards indifference as he entered the morning room. There he found Bingley attempting to persuade Miss Bennet that she was not well enough to return to Longbourn so soon. Fully realizing that while Miss Jane Bennet remained at Netherfield so would her sister Elizabeth, without much enthusiasm, Caroline Bingley made the obligatory civilities encouraged by her brother. Hiding his intense interest, Darcy watched the scene between Bingley and Miss Jane Bennet with a detached air. He hoped Miss Elizabeth would leave before long, and he could return to a more sensible existence. “Then it is settled; you may not consider leaving before tomorrow,” Bingley insisted weakly.
Miss Bennet nodded her agreement before abandoning the seat by the fire and returning to her room. Finally, an end to his upheaval was in sight. A little more than a day would put distance between him and his preoccupation with Miss Elizabeth. He would avoid contact with the woman and not engage in any unnecessary conversation. If he could confine himself to places of solitude, the hours would pass quicker. The lady frustrated him beyond words. He had never met a woman who befuddled him so easily. How many times over the past few weeks had he thought upon her? Almost from the moment he rejected the opportunity to escort her onto the assembly hall dance floor, her “fine eyes” mesmerized him. Her connections, however, would make him a mockery among his society. He could not allow that to happen to Georgiana, to his family name, or to the expectations for Pemberley. He knew his duty to the Darcy name; his fascination with Miss Elizabeth Bennet had to end today!
He found it relatively easy to escape close association with Miss Elizabeth by taking a long, physically demanding ride on Cerberus. By the time he returned and properly presented himself to the rest of his party, Mr. Bingley and Mr. Hurst applied to him to join them for some shooting, but Darcy kindly begged off. The ladies had taken the carriage into Meryton to return social calls. Miss Elizabeth attended her sister, which meant Darcy could eschew all the trappings society would demand if everyone were together. He found a book in the Netherfield library in which he could at least pretend to hold an interest if someone found him there. Settling into the chair’s cushions, he easily drifted into a light sleep; his mind, despite his determination to avoid thoughts of Miss Elizabeth, clearly pictured her in this dream state. Her smile was there, and it was a smile directed towards him, the illusion was so real he could not help but to utter her name aloud, “Elizabeth.”
“Yes, Mr. Darcy.” The word echoed through his whole body. With eyes fluttering and a mind grappling with the reality of what just occurred, Darcy sprang to his feet, a rush of embarrassment at being found dreaming of the woman who now stood before him and who looked very quizzical about what transpired.
“I . . . I apologize, Miss Elizabeth,” Darcy stammered, permitting his breeding to take over his actions. “May I assist you in finding what you seek in the library?”
“You are most kind, Mr. Darcy.” She appeared amused by his response. “I thought you were asleep; I desperately wanted not to disturb you; I reached for a book of poetry on the upper shelf, but I fear my clumsiness brought you from your deliberation, and I foolishly interrupted your privacy. It is I who should apologize.”
“Not at all,” he quipped, making a quick bow. He stepped over to the shelf by which she stood. Reaching to retrieve the book she desired, Darcy placed it into her hands. When she looked up to thank him, Darcy found himself swimming in the scent of lavender. Elizabeth smiled briefly at him as she took a seat across from his chair. He considered excusing himself, but he feared in doing so her curiosity over his response would be compounded. Instead, he hoped by returning to his chair and his book, Elizabeth would think his blunder simply a lack of propriety at calling her by her first name rather than a realization he dreamed of her.
Pretending to read the historical account of William the Conqueror, Darcy peered over his book and watched Elizabeth as she devoured the words. She tapped her foot lightly as she read, evidently mimicking the rhythmic pattern of the lines. Darcy watched her so intensely he came close to closing his book in order to give her his full attention. Elizabeth bit her lower lip as she read, flitting glimpses of humor and sadness empathetically playing across her face. They sat as such for half an hour; Elizabeth engrossed in the beauty of the lines; Darcy engrossed in the beauty of the woman. Noting the time, she sighed deeply as she closed her volume. “Thank you, again, Mr. Darcy.” She curtsied and departed before he could acknowledge her remark or to stand upon her exit. Darcy released the breath he did not realize he held. I must not say anything else to her today; Elizabeth Bennet must be out of my life.
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At supper, Darcy devoted his attention to Miss Bingley and to Mrs. Hurst’s trivial administrations. He purposely did not look at Elizabeth when she joined them. Silently, he counted the minutes until the hour of her departure. At length, Sunday brought the day of his redemption; in a few hours, he would be free of her. As much as Darcy rejoiced at returning to his usual fare, his friend remained despondent over the loss of Miss Bennet’s company, and Darcy found he too would experience the deprivation of Miss Elizabeth’s presence if only he were allowed the luxury of admitting as much. Reliving the last few days as he dressed for church services, he acknowledged Elizabeth’s power over him had escalated to the point of distraction. His prayer on this particular Sunday would be to rid himself of the good opinion he had formed of her. Putting distance between him and Miss Elizabeth could ease his distress; therefore, during the night, he had resolved to pretend business in Town and his need to leave Netherfield.
Waiting on the ladies in the main foyer, Darcy paced with a renewed resolve. Bingley, on the other hand, anticipated the pleasure of escorting Miss Jane Bennet to the morning’s services. As Darcy contemplated how he could inform Bingley of his departure, without offending his friend, the Misses Bennet stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the gentlemen. Jane Bennet, still a bit pale, was dressed in light blue muslin, amplifying her blue eyes. Darcy thought he heard Bingley let out a low moan, but he could not be confident it was not his own response; for a few paces behind her elder sister and taking a supportive role, stood Miss Elizabeth. The image held him in place. She was perfectly beautiful and perfectly insensible to the fact. Only moments before, he had silently professed his desire to be away from the brilliancy of her eyes, and now he could not force his regard from Elizabeth’s countenance. Clothed in a simple dress of palest rose trimmed with red stitching and ribbon which complemented the auburn highlights of her hair, Elizabeth had no idea what inducements she created in a man.
Bingley sprang up the staircase to attend to Jane Bennet’s needs, taking up a position by her side and allowing himself the pleasure of bracing her unsteady motion. Pausing to give her sister distance and some moments of growing affection, Miss Elizabeth began her descent, and Darcy discovered himself compelled to meet her and offer her his arm. Although a bit embarrassed by his behavior, he offered the incomparable Elizabeth Bennet his hand. She hesitated, but graciously accepted his offer.
Bingley, irritated with his sisters for being fashionably late once again, said, “Darcy, why do we not take the Misses Bennet in my carriage? My brother Hurst may bring my sisters in his.” Darcy knew the folly of such an action. Two single gentlemen in possession of good fortunes escorting two single ladies to local church services could be viewed easily by society and by the ladies themselves as a declaration of the gentlemen’s intentions. He wanted to say as much to his friend, but the slight pressure of Elizabeth’s hand upon his had wiped the idea clear. He resolved to leave Netherfield in the next few days, and that would stifle any hopes Miss Elizabeth may be holding. Darcy would allow himself the pleasure of her company one last time.
In the carriage, they found companionable silence. Both ladies kept their eyes downcast as Miss Elizabeth fussed over Jane’s comfort. Bingley and Darcy stared out the coach’s windows, but Darcy’s mind was anywhere but on the scenery; Miss Elizabeth’s use of English lavender—her lush eyelashes—the flush of color on her cheeks—the shift of her shoulders—all these things consumed him. Alighting from the carriage, the ladies entered the church ahead of them.
Bingley grabbed Darcy’s arm, delaying their entrance momentarily. “Darcy, thank you for allowing me this deception. My sisters will take great offense, and we shall hear their rebukes this afternoon, but, for me, this will be well worth it.”
Darcy studiously covered the deep regard he held for Elizabeth Bennet. “Bingley, although we should not have allowed decency to fall to the wayside, I do enjoy being in your company, and, by the way, is this adventurous enough for you?” He winked at his friend good-humoredly.
“You are a faithful friend,” Bingley declared enthusiastically. “Let us find seats behind the Miss Bennets. I am afraid my attention may not be on the sermon today.”
Darcy felt guilty for deceiving his friend, but how could he admit the truth to Bingley. He had not even vocalized to himself the disorder Elizabeth’s presence had afflicted upon him.
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