To Capture Mr. Darcy, a Pride and Prejudice Variation Novel Read online

  As Jane and Mr. Bingley spoke in whispers, Elizabeth finished her contemplation only to glance up and spy Mr. Darcy walking past the open door. He did not look into the bedroom but kept his gaze forward towards his aim. Elizabeth smiled to herself at his handsome profile, then remembered she was still angry with the man.

  “I am overjoyed for you both! To think, I shall finally have a brother!” Elizabeth reached her hands forward to clasp her sister’s, then drew back as she remembered her injury. Offering her sister a bright smile, Jane nodded in understanding of Elizabeth’s plight and instead offered an embrace. Elizabeth addressed Mr. Bingley over Jane’s shoulder. “If the fog lifts this afternoon, we might all go to Longbourn this very day and you can speak with Papa.”

  Mr. Bingley’s affable smile faltered at Miss Elizabeth’s prediction of their near future plans. “I am afraid Mr. Darcy has reported the ground is much too soft for any equipage. That was the errand I had sent him on before he encountered you.”

  Elizabeth could not hide the look of disappointment from her face as Jane pulled back and reassured Mr. Bingley they would be happy to stay another night. All Elizabeth could think of was having to endure Mr. Darcy and Miss Bingley’s company for yet another night. Just the prospect of such a future began to bring on the symptoms of a headache.

  “Perhaps I should remain in my rooms to recover from my fall this morning.”

  “Oh no, Elizabeth Marie, you are not so injured as to insult Mr. Bingley with your absence.” Jane surprisingly admonished her sister in a sharp tone.

  “If Miss Elizabeth should need to rest, I am certain I might make her apologies for the remainder of the day. Though it would be a shame to miss her sonnet recitation.” Mr. Bingley sighed to feign an actual disappointment over his beloved’s sister planning to remove herself from the general company for the day.

  “Sonnet recitation?”

  “Indeed. I was just explaining to Jane that Caroline has requested we all select a sonnet to recite this evening after dinner. I was reluctant at first, but even Darcy will participate. I suspect the exercise will be highly diverting!” Mr. Bingley took Jane’s hand to bow over it and kissed the top.

  As Jane giggled over Mr. Bingley’s attentions, Elizabeth began to feel guilty. As soon as Caroline Bingley learned of the engagement, there was certain to be a new approach in her attitude towards Jane. Having spent their visit in a friendless state among the Bingley sisters, Elizabeth felt inspired to rise to the occasion.

  “If it will please you, Jane, then I shall be happy to select a sonnet for performance.”

  “If you are recovered, might we go down to the drawing room and enjoy the afternoon light? Charles, do you enjoy cribbage?” Jane asked earnestly of her intended as she took his arm.

  “Remind me, is that the game where we add to twenty-one or thirty-one?”

  “Thirty-one,” Elizabeth offered as she walked around the couple in the hallway. “I shall join you in the drawing room after I visit the library. I can memorize my sonnet while you play cards.” Elizabeth did not add that she also knew there was no possible way for Mr. Darcy to be in the library since it appeared he had walked towards his rooms. Elizabeth aimed to find the copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets and retreat to the relative safety of Jane and Bingley’s company as soon as she was able.

  A gentle nod was the only acknowledgment Elizabeth Bennet received from her sister as she left their company on her mission. In spite of her small pangs of jealousy, Elizabeth was truly happy for Jane and relieved that her sister might make a match with a man she so greatly admired. Any months Miss Bingley was away on holiday, Elizabeth would be pleased to visit her sister and new brother, assuming, of course, their father agreed to the match. Though for the life of her, Elizabeth could not imagine her father denying Jane such a worthy suitor, other than perhaps consideration of the abject misery her mother would put the family through as the banns were read.

  Elizabeth reached the library and entered the room, calling out to see if anyone was present. Receiving no response, she breathed a sigh of relief and began her search.

  Darcy entered his suite to interrupt his man, Arnold, polishing his riding boots. The servant who had been with Fitzwilliam since his school days, and son of the valet for Darcy’s father, set aside his task and glanced up at the sound of the door opening.

  “May I help you, sir?” Arnold’s keen eye inspected his master from head to toe and spotted an obvious problem with the state of his trousers. Carefully setting the polished boot and brush on a white cloth in front of him, Mr. Arnold hastened to the wardrobe to find a suitable replacement.

  Darcy stroked his mostly clean-shaven cheek with the back of his knuckles as he stood ready to change his attire. “I have right ruined things with Miss Elizabeth.”

  The valet who enjoyed a more personal relationship with his master than others of his profession offered his willing ear for the relief of Mr. Darcy’s burden. “Is that how you injured your knee?”

  Darcy looked down at his bare legs to see what Arnold referred to as an injury. He had not only managed to rip his trousers, but also broken the skin on his right knee. A trickle of dried blood ran halfway down his shin. Darcy laughed at himself that he had not even felt the pain from the injury from being so distracted by concern for Elizabeth.

  Arnold stood and fetched a damp cloth from the basin. Frowning as he inspected the wound, he dabbed the cloth around the injury and cleaned it of debris and blood. The scab held; there did not appear to be a need for stitches.

  “I find myself so utterly tongue-tied when in her company. I have never lost my ability to string two coherent thoughts together as much as I have this past week. And even when I attempt to compliment her I somehow manage to insult!” Darcy’s frustrations made Arnold’s job slightly more difficult as the great man did not hold still during his rant.

  Arnold nodded at his master’s assessment of the situation, long privy to the daily ups and downs Mr. Darcy endured with the first lady to capture his affections. Not that Arnold would ever say such, but the recounts of Miss Elizabeth’s set downs for his master already endeared the young lady to the valet’s heart as well. His master perfectly exemplified all a valet could ask for and more. But in the years since his father’s death, no small amount of pride and ego had naturally grafted to Mr. Darcy’s personality as he lacked any sort of challenge in his daily life.

  “Perhaps the lady would appreciate a token? A letter? You would not be the first suitor to find difficulty in courting with words, sir.”

  Darcy sighed as he obliged his valet with physical assistance to restore his attire with a new set of trousers. “I have never been the pursuer. Always the pursued.”

  As Darcy checked his reflection in the mirror for assurance there was nothing else amiss with his costume, his valet frowned behind him.

  “Speak freely, Arnold. If you have an idea I am eager to consider it.”

  Arnold tapped his finger to his mouth as he appeared to weigh an idea in his mind. Darcy waited a few minutes more for his valet to speak before he finally turned and glared at the man in expectation.

  Arnold held his hands up in mock surrender. ”I do not mean to overstep my place, but in your experiences of being the pursued, what types of behavior have you abhorred and which have you enjoyed?”

  “I do not enjoy when ladies fawn over me, fuss over me, or start inane conversations over subject matters I have no interest in…” Darcy’s eyes widened as he realized as he spoke about the behaviors he himself could not abide, he had just listed the same behaviors he had subjected Miss Elizabeth to! “Arnold, you are a far bit smarter than the average valet.”

  Arnold smiled at his master and returned to his previous task of polishing Mr. Darcy’s riding boots. “I do try, sir.”

  “I need the copy of sonnets I brought with me from London. Where are my books?”

  Arnold suddenly faltered in his task.

  “What? Where is my copy of Shakespeare?”


  Arnold gulped and closed his eyes briefly. “I gave your copy to Miss Bingley, sir. She stopped here this morning, not long after you left, and told me you had instructed her to fetch the sonnets for a performance this evening.”

  Darcy pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew Arnold’s loyalty to him never faltered, but sometimes he wished the man was not quite so fastidious in his decorum when they travelled. He could hardly blame the man for denying the hostess of the house her request for one of his books.

  “Do you think it likely I would loan my book to Miss Bingley?”

  “No, sir, but I did not believe I should accuse her of lying, either. I planned to tell you of it this afternoon when you came to dress for dinner since I heard from the staff the ground was still too wet for riding.”

  Darcy’s vein in the side of his forehead bulged as he once more felt powerless to thwart Bingley’s sister in her aims. And although he had most of Sonnet 116 committed to memory, he would not wish to misspeak in front of Elizabeth.

  “I will find the sonnet in the library. Bingley must have copies in this house. I cannot imagine the Kemp family took every copy of sonnets on the premises when they left.”

  “Aye, sir. Do you want me to ask a maid to search Miss Bingley’s rooms?”

  “No, that is not necessary. With any luck, Miss Bingley is not in the library awaiting my presence and I can slip in and out without being accosted.”

  Arnold nodded as his master left him to finish his chores. Spitting again on the boot to help with shine, Arnold wished he could observe Miss Elizabeth with his master but such a joy would have to wait until they made a match. In the meantime, Arnold hummed as he felt quite jolly at the idea of Mr. Darcy finally taking a wife. The man needed a distraction from always working and worrying over his younger sister, Miss Darcy.

  Elizabeth began to feel a frantic anxiety overcome her person. Sweat beaded on her forehead and she swiped at her hair, a consequence of her exercise in the search for a copy of Shakespeare’s sonnets. All she managed to locate was a collection of his plays and briefly considered a monologue from either A Midsummer Night’s Dream or her favorite, Twelfth Night, when the sound of the door opening alerted that her time alone had come to an end.

  Her lips were pressed into a firm line of disapproval when it was none other than Mr. Darcy standing in the entryway with an expression of fear on his face. Involuntarily, Elizabeth began to feel incensed over how he had walked past her sister’s bedroom where she was receiving aid for her injuries and did not stop and inquire as to how her hands fared. She had no words for the man as she began to walk towards him in order to leave the library and rejoin Jane and Mr. Bingley.

  “Miss Elizabeth, I humbly ask for a moment of your time. I promise to neither assault nor insult you . . . to the best of my humble ability.”

  The poor man’s words in a solemn vow sparked Elizabeth’s curiosity as to what he could say after all the two of them had been through. Her curiosity being a much stronger personality trait then her ability to hold a grudge, Elizabeth winced as she placed her injured hands on her hips, then stubbornly left them there so as not to reveal her pain.

  “I will hear what you have to say, sir, but I warn you I expect your discourse with me to be that of a gentleman and nothing less.”

  Feeling self-conscious as he stood in the doorway, Darcy motioned with his hand to the two chairs by the fire. Elizabeth followed his direction and shrugged her shoulders. Remembering her discomfort when they were playing chess, Mr. Darcy moved the same urn to prop open the door as he had the other day.

  Elizabeth beat him to the pair of matching chairs situated cozily by the fire, feeling herself chilled despite a wave of warmth washing over her body. The pain in her hands ceased as she was no longer applying pressure to her palms. When she sat down to await his company, she frowned as her nerves suddenly gave her a rare craving for some sort of employment.

  “First, I most humbly and sincerely apologize for the words I have spoken regarding your person that were of an unkind nature. I was angry with Bingley at the assembly, and though it was you I most horrifically insulted, I can truly say the comment would have been said about any lady he pointed out that evening.”

  The solemnity of Mr. Darcy’s full apology made Elizabeth uncomfortable. Wishing to lighten the mood, she flashed Mr. Darcy a warm smile. “Even Miss Bingley?”

  Darcy froze as her tease threw him from his plans of groveling and begging for forgiveness. How could the woman have been so angry with him before and now make jests? “I cannot say what I would have said to Charles if he had pointed to Miss Bingley, because I cannot imagine he would ever ask me for my thoughts about his sister. However, I also cannot logically profess I would have refused to dance with her since I did stand up a set with her at that very assembly.” Mr. Darcy hoped his honesty would count for something with Miss Elizabeth.

  “So it is your habit to only insult women you are not acquainted with, as I am to understand it?”

  Darcy’s eyes widened as his own anger began to rise in his chest. “And you madam, do you always rake your friends over the coals when they attempt an apology?”

  “My friends know me well enough that when they have truly committed a transgression, I am not the sort to let them easily off the hook. You, sir, were most careless with your words and observations on numerous occasions since I have been in this household. That I am a lady with a firm head upon my shoulders to not dissemble at every insult does not lessen your crimes.”

  “My crimes? When you so willfully misunderstand me at every turn and think the worst!” Darcy ran his hand through his hair, finding the very beautiful face of Elizabeth Bennet surrounded by the fire’s glow on one side an absolute torture to his better senses.

  Elizabeth began to feel she was pushing the man further than any other acquaintance had ever before. Part of her wished to see how far she might push the illustrious Mr. Darcy into admitting his own culpability, but another part of her ached to see his difficulty over learning how powerful his words truly were. Briefly, Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a deep breath to begin again.

  “I admit that my attempts to sketch your character have been grossly colored by a prejudice against you due to the assembly. I suppose if I might erase that first poor impression, many times you have been a complete gentleman in my company, even going so far as to show concern for my welfare.”

  Darcy held his breath, waiting to see if she would continue. But she did not. Neither did she make a move to rise from her chair as a signal that their business was done. He followed her example and took a deep breath himself. “I ask this question with the most honorable intentions. Have you enjoyed any of our time together?”

  The direct question caught Elizabeth by surprise. Her face could not hide the many emotions of delight and confusion she felt when she reflected upon the time they had spent together. If she was honest with herself, Fitzwilliam Darcy fascinated her in a way no other gentleman of her acquaintance had ever managed to accomplish. Yet the prospect of falling in love with Mr. Darcy was not one Elizabeth was prepared to accept. She believed in love, but she was not so certain of it occurring at first sight as the poets were quick to assert. As Elizabeth licked her lips, Darcy’s heart skipped a beat.

  “A direct question deserves a direct answer. Yes, I have enjoyed our chess games and some of our discussions. I have learned to not be so quick to judge another person.” She blushed as she looked down at her injured hands for some form of penance in being so open with a man in a private setting. “Our philosophies on life do align in many unexpected ways.”

  “And would you–”

  “There you are!” Caroline Bingley appeared in the library holding two books in her hand. As she walked around the table with an ancient Bible atop it, her plastered smile melted as she spied Mr. Darcy sitting in a much too casual position in relation to Miss Elizabeth. “Again, Mr. Darcy, you seem bent on being unfair sir.”

  “And what is your
charge this time, Miss Bingley?” Mr. Darcy asked flatly, noticing that Elizabeth smirked out of the corner of his eye when he turned to look at Bingley’s younger sister. “What have I done to displease you, madam?”

  Caroline’s jaw dropped in mock shock as she held up the books and wiggled them. “You said you would practice your sonnets in your suite and yet here I find you in the library with Miss Eliza. I can only conclude the two of you are preparing for tonight’s performance. You certainly could not be doing anything more…” Caroline glared at Elizabeth Bennet as if to chastise her for being alone with Mr. Darcy, when Caroline herself held no greater desire than to be in Elizabeth’s very position with the man.

  “Funny you should ask, but I would indeed be in my rooms choosing a sonnet as you have directed if only my copy of the Bard’s writings were not removed this very morning from my trunks.”

  “Did someone steal your book, Mr. Darcy? I should hope not, the staff here have given me no reason to believe they might be thieves.” Elizabeth glared at Miss Bingley, turning the tables on her hostess for the earlier insinuation that Elizabeth was in the wrong for merely sitting in a chair in the library with the doors wide open.

  “It slipped my mind this morning at breakfast.” Caroline looked to Mr. Darcy to imply an intimacy that had not existed in fact, “I retrieved your copy of the sonnets from your valet, expecting you would wish to practice with my first invitation.”

  As much as Elizabeth did not wish to aid and encourage Caroline Bingley, neither did she wish to continue her conversation with Mr. Darcy, feeling that the two of them were on a stable ground to start a friendship. Knowing how volatile their conversations tended to become, even worse with the catalyst of Caroline’s barbs, Elizabeth realized an opportunity to escape. Even though she knew it would sacrifice Mr. Darcy on her behalf. “Miss Bingley, since you only have two copies, would you be willing to let me have one so that I might work on my sonnet with Jane and Mr. Bingley? You and Mr. Darcy can work together with his copy of the sonnets,” Elizabeth suggested.