What if Elizabeth confronted Bingley about leaving Jane?
“I shall be fine,” Jane murmured in a trembling voice.
When her sister’s eyes finally closed, Elizabeth Bennet breathed out a sigh of relief. The short calm did not last long. Elizabeth paced back and forth in the room, as quietly as she could so as not to disturbed her sister’s sleep.
Elizabeth had arrived in London two days prior, in response to a letter from her aunt. Mrs. Gardiner reported that Jane had received another cruel letter from Miss Bingley and the love-crossed lady’s spirit was broken. Mrs. Gardiner requested Elizabeth’s presence to help relieve her elder sister’s sufferings, and to rally her spirit.
After a long discussion, and some conjuring, Elizabeth finally managed to enlist a smile from Jane before she fell asleep, peacefully.
Aunt Magdalene told Elizabeth the previous night that Jane had not been sleeping well since Miss Bingley had returned her call a week ago. The arrogant woman acted as if to sever the friendship with Jane. The latest letter made Jane’s situation even worse, and she had not slept calmly for days.
Now that Jane had closed her eyes for a restful sleep, Elizabeth considered her mission successful. However, as she laid eyes on the crumpled letter by Jane’s bedside, ire surged in her bosom.
“Blast the snobbish and mean spirited woman! Why did Miss Bingley have to twist the knife into Jane’s heart? Not only did she sever their friendship, she also reminded Jane of Mr. Bingley’s paying court to Miss Darcy! Damnation!” Elizabeth swore as she left Jane’s room.
“What a coward, this amiable Mr. Bingley whom you love so much, Jane! Why can he not come to tell you to your face that he never admired you at all while he was in Hertfordshire? Whatever attention he gave you in Meryton was not genuine,” Elizabeth mumbled.
Not two seconds later, she exclaimed again, “I do not believe it! My judgement could not have failed me so. Mr. Bingley loves Jane as much as Jane loves Mr. Bingley. It is all the fault of his sisters and his friend, Mr. Darcy.”
Her mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. What if I can get Mr. Bingley to come to see Jane? she mused.
Elizabeth’s temper rose. “Hang propriety! I shall visit Hurst’s townhouse and demand to see Mr. Bingley. I am sure that annoying Miss Bingley is hiding him away, afraid that he will be loathed to part with Jane if he sees her again.”
She walked towards her bedchamber, scheming on how to visit Mr. Bingley without the presence of his sisters. She passed by young Thomas Gardiner’s room. He was taking his afternoon nap. Elizabeth smiled as she spied his carefree posture. What a blessing, to be young and without worries, she thought.
Suddenly, her eyes fell on a toy duelling pistol lying on the floor. Mr. Gardiner had great interest in making toys during his spare time. He had made the pistol for his son’s twelfth birthday, but the gift, which endeared him in the eyes of his son, earned the irk of his wife. The toy was so real that when Mr. Gardiner presented it to young Thomas, Mrs. Gardiner nearly fainted on seeing a weapon in the package.
With a bite of her lip, a scheme formed in Elizabeth’s mind. She pocketed the toy pistol and went to change her attire. It was only mid afternoon; she would have plenty of time to complete her new mission before Jane woke up for dinner.
When she arrived at the Hurst’s residence at Grosvenor Square, Elizabeth observed the area for a quarter of an hour. If she could get Mr. Bingley to the central garden, on the south side of the house, she could talk to him freely about Jane’s broken heart and persuade him to visit her at the Gardiner’s in Cheapside. The duelling pistol would only need to be used if he proved uncooperative, Elizabeth thought.
She returned to a corner where she could spy the townhouse, deciding to wait for Mr. Bingley’s appearance, instead of applying to see him. Alternatively, if she saw Mrs. Hurst and Miss Bingley leave the residence, she would apply to the butler about seeing Bingley. One way or another, she must see Mr. Bingley today, without the interfering sisters.
After another half an hour wait, she observed Mr. Bingley exit the residence.
“Damnation!” she cursed. He was not alone. The arrogant and intimidating Mr. Darcy was with him! Elizabeth’s eyes saw fire. The same Mr. Darcy must have persuaded Mr. Bingley not to come back to Hertfordshire so that Jane’s beau would court Miss Darcy instead. She wished the pistol was real and she could use it to knock the tall Mr. Darcy’s head to express her displeasure, but, with the amiable Mr. Bingley beside him, Elizabeth was hesitant to carry out her plan. She was not confident that she could lure Mr. Bingley to the central garden without interference from Mr. Darcy, and, thus decided to follow the pair, at a discrete distance.
Much to her delight, the gentlemen walked to the central garden. She would wait until Mr. Bingley was alone.
After another quarter of an hour strolling, the pair returned to the main road on the north side of the central garden. Mr. Bingley shook his friend’s hand suddenly and ran to board one of the carriages that had stopped there. Elizabeth’s mouth gaped open. She wanted to cry out to stop him, but she was too far away. By the time she came almost to the main road, she could only catch the dust left behind by the carriage.
“Miss Bennet!” Mr. Darcy’s voice startled Elizabeth. On her haste to chase after Mr. Bingley, she had totally forgotten the insufferable Mr. Darcy. Now she could not avoid acknowledging his presence.
“Mr. Darcy,” Elizabeth replied in a most frustrated tone, and curtsied.
“I was not aware that you are in London, Miss Bennet,” he swallowed hard, shifting his weight from one foot to another. His uncomfortable manner annoyed her further.
“Indeed, sir. I came to visit my sister, Jane, at my aunt and uncle’s residence at Cheapside,” she threw the less than fashionable name of Cheapside to his face, daring him to despise her.
He did not respond as she believed he would. Instead, he asked, in a most courteous manner, “I trust that you find Miss Bennet, and your aunt and uncle in good health?”
Red mist burst into Elizabeth’s eyes suddenly. “You dare to enquire after my sister’s health!”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes popped open. “What?” he asked.
“Jane is on her sickbed, and it is all because of you!”
“Sickbed?” he repeated.
Elizabeth stepped closer to him, “Yes, because of you! You, who asked Mr. Bingley not to return to Hertfordshire. You, who conspired with Miss Bingley to break her friendship with Jane. You, who has had a hand in crushing Jane’s spirit! Jane is sick, in her body and mind.”
“Sick?” Mr. Darcy looked dazzled at the heated accusation and the fire in Elizabeth’s eyes. Sensing her menacing closeness, he tried to step back from her.
Elizabeth was so furious that she raised her hand to grab his, but the weight of the reticule alerted her to the weapon she was carrying. She could not think straight. She wanted someone to come back to Cheapside and explain Mr. Bingley’s abandonment to Jane, face to face. The guilty expression on Mr. Darcy’s face told Elizabeth that her estimation was correct; he was party to injuring Jane. Elizabeth did not know the extent of his involvement, but she did not care. She wanted the truth from him, or someone.
She pointed her reticule at him. “Stop repeating my words and obey my orders.”
“Your orders?”
“Yes, I have a pistol in here!” she stated, quietly. “Do as I say or there will be consequences.”
Mr. Darcy gasped. He stared at the reticule intensely, and moved another step backwards.
“Do not move!” Elizabeth gritted her teeth, and her hand moved to the trigger of the pistol, through the fabric of the reticule.
His eyes gaped open, and he exclaimed, “Have you lost your wits, Miss Bennet? Put the damn pistol down!”
“Not until you come to Cheapside to see my sister.”
“Why? What do you hope to achieve?”
“Your confession to Jane, that you are the one who separated Mr. Bingley from her. That it was not her fancy that she found herself in love before Mr. Bingley left, and that he returned her love most ardently.”
“She loved Mr. Bingley?”
“She does! And stop repeating my words!”
Elizabeth stamped her feet. She was frustrated with Mr. Darcy who seemed to have turned into a simpleton and could only repeat her words. On seeing a hackney carriage approaching, she stepped near to him and grabbed his hand, letting him feel the pistol pressed to his arm. “I shall pretend to swoon and you will assist me into the carriage. Instruct the driver to deliver us to 38, GraceChurch Street. Should you falter in any way I shall not be responsible for my actions!”
Darcy was total dazed by her closeness, her sweet scent, and the heat of the explosive situation. It seemed that only moments earlier he had been yawning at the mean chatter of Miss Bingley at Hurst’s townhouse. Shortly afterwards, he was walking with Mr. Bingley in the central garden, and yet, at this moment, he was being confronted by a siren that had engaged his heart through the entire winter.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet, despite her low connection, improper family, and lack of fortune, had worm her way into Darcy’s heart. He loved her and dreamed of her almost every night. Now her apparition stalked him, with a gun in her hand, demanding him to go with her to a god-forsaken place. Whatever the reason, he could do none other than oblige her will and demand.
When she leaned heavily onto him, pretending to have fainted, he took the opportunity to grasp her waist. His fingers accidentally caressed the underside of her full rounded breasts. The sensation was electrifying. Darcy did not care if there was any acquaintance who might witness his action. He wanted to take Elizabeth back to his home and bed, rather than 38, GraceChurch Street. Perhaps that is exactly what I shall do, he thought.
He wrestled the reticule from her grasp and held her tightly, pressing her closely to his side. “Not a word,” he whispered, “or you will be sent to Newgate for attempted kidnapping!”
“What …” Elizabeth protested, but the pressure from Darcy’s arms, and the firmness of his body, made her gasp. He then walked ahead with her at his side, passing by the hackney carriage to the much grander carriage that was waiting earlier with Mr. Bingley’s carriage.
“Henry, make haste to Amber …” Darcy’s instruction to his coachman was stopped as Elizabeth stamped on his foot. “Wha .. innnn …,” He cried, and then lowered his voice and pressed close to Elizabeth’s ear. “What in God’s name are you doing? Stop this instant or people will come forward.” Then, without ceremony, he picked Elizabeth up in his arms and put her into his carriage. He pulled the shades down and sat next her, rapping the roof to instruct the coachman to move on, before clasping her body tightly to his.
By the time Elizabeth regained her wit, the carriage was travelling at full speed. She beat at Darcy’s arms, trying to retrieve her reticule, but he was too fast for her. He threw the reticule to the seat opposite. When she tried to scratch his face, he held her hands over her head and stared at her intently.
“Unhand me!” she yelled.
Darcy had seen enough of Elizabeth’s wildcat behaviour. He wanted to yell back at her, but her fierce expression called out to him at a much more basic level. He lowered his head and kissed her firmly on her lips.
Her eyes rounded, and her bosom heaved as his hot lips teased her. Her whole body seemed to be on fire. In the dark interior of the carriage, Elizabeth could see nothing, save for his passionate eyes. She could feel his body, flaming, strong and hard, touching and burning every inch of her skin. His hot kisses made her swoon, and her thoughts floated back to their first meeting at Meryton Assembly. His slight and his words had hurt. She was supposed to be quite beautiful, though she could never compete with Jane, but it was not until that moment that her vanity had ever been damaged as much. “Tolerable … Not handsome enough to tempt him …” She hated the words he had uttered so coldly.
Since then, she had been provoking him at every opportunity. If she could not bring him to heel with her beauty, she would do so with her wit. She considered herself quite successful. She also enjoyed her success in winning an argument regarding the qualities of accomplished ladies and the steadiness of friendship. At one time, she even enjoyed Charlotte hinting that Mr. Darcy was interested in her. His singling her out at the Netherfield ball was a manifestation. At that time, Elizabeth was no longer interested in bringing him to heel. She was more interested in dear Mr. Wickham, and how Mr. Darcy had injured him. What was Mr. Darcy doing, kissing her like a mad man while she was furious with him?
She wanted to struggle, but his lips were like chocolate, highly addictive. His body was like hot brick that warmed her body in cold winter. When he thrust his tongue into her mouth and rubbed his palms over her bosom, she felt a flow of molten lava through her blood. Her mind flew out of her body, watching their entwining bodies on the luxury carriage seats from afar. She observed her own hands ruffling his hair, caressing his neck, rubbing his hard back, under his coat, parting the fabric and buttons. The moans and whimpering sounded foreign to her ears. How could she behave so wantonly?
What about him? Mr. Darcy was no gentleman! She knew that from Mr. Wickham’s description of him. Mr. Darcy was a heartless wealthy man, who treated his childhood friend and his father’s will with disrespect. In addition, his atrocious action continued today, affecting dear Jane’s spirit and mind.
Thinking about Jane awoke Elizabeth’s senses. Her body turned stiff and her hands cold. She gathered her strength immediately and pushed Mr. Darcy off her body. He felt to the floor of the carriage.
Panting hard, Elizabeth stared at him with vehemence. Mr. Darcy did not look like the implacable gentleman he usually was. His hair was dishevelled, his lips swollen, and his cravat skewed. His waistcoat was open, his shirt half pulled from his breeches, which were bulging at the front. He looked positively wild.
Did I do that to him? She felt surprisingly giddy; to be able to make him lose control. She touched her lips. Oh my lord, she thought, I must look exactly like him, and mine also feel swollen. Her Spencer was open; the sleeve of her day dress pulled down on one side, exposing her heaving breast and erect nipple to his hungry gaze. Her unruly hair escaped the bonnet, in a sweaty mess. The hem of her dress hiked up, offering her legs to his spying eyes.
“You are a scoundrel, just as Mr. Wickham said!” she spat.
“You take an eager interest in that man!”
“Anyone who heard of his misfortune will be sympathetic to his plight.”
“His misfortune!”
“Yes, his misfortune! How can you reduce him to his present poverty and treat his misfortune with contempt?”
“I reduce him to poverty?”
“Where is your wit, that you can only continue to repeat my words?”
“Where is your wit to believe his laughable tale?”
“Are you accusing me of being a simpleton?”
“Only a simpleton would believe him without first seeking the proof?”
“What proof do I need? That you have withheld the living promised to him by your father?”
“The proof that I paid him three thousand pounds when he refused the living and wanted to study law!”
“Three thousand pounds! I do not believe you! How could anyone spend all that money in just a few years?”
“Wickham is capable. He engages in gaming, drinking, and seducing young women. Three thousand pounds is a small sum for him.”
Mr. Darcy moved to the opposite side of the carriage, and straightened his clothes as he stared at her angrily. Elizabeth immediately followed suit, sitting upright and addressing her appearance as she contemplated Mr. Darcy’s words. Mr. Wickham had told her the story immediately after they had been acquainted, and there were a number of inconsistencies. Mr. Wickham had vowed he would not be scared by Mr. Darcy’s presence in Hertfordshire, but did not show up at the Netherfield Ball. According to Captain Denny, Mr. Wickham was keen to avoid a certain somebody – Mr. Darcy. When Bingley’s party departed, Mr. Wickham started to spread his story to anyone who would listen, although he had initially stated to Elizabeth that he would not show disrespect to old Mr. Darcy by speaking ill of his heir.
Elizabeth’s face turned red on realising that Mr. Wickham, a man of whose background she had no knowledge, had deceived her. She remembered Charlotte, Aunt Magdalene, her father and Jane’s words of caution, about her readiness to believe Mr. Darcy’s wickedness. How could she judge Mr. Wickham so wrongly? It seemed he had all the charm of a gentleman, but none of the substance. Alas, Mr. Darcy was no better.
“What about Jane? Did you deny separating Mr. Bingley from her?” Elizabeth asked.
“No, I congratulate myself on my success. Towards him, I have been kinder than towards myself.”
“What nonsense do you speak?”
“Bingley loves your sister, but she did not show him any preference. Did you not hear your mother’s words at the supper at Netherfield? Mrs. Bennet said that Bingley would throw her other daughters to the path of rich men. I am sure Miss Bennet will obey your mother’s demand, if Bingley proposed, even if she did not love him.”
“Jane did not show a preference for Mr. Bingley? She is on her sickbed, still whispering his name and clutching the hurtful letter from Miss Bingley, telling her that he is courting your sister.”
“What nonsense! My sister is only sixteen. She is too young to be courted.”
“It is not you who instructed Miss Bingley to write such a cruel letter?”
Mr. Darcy shook his head decidedly. Elizabeth breathed evenly, thinking back to Charlotte’s words that Jane should show more of her interest towards Mr. Bingley.
She continued, “But there is no excuse, you should not give your opinion that Jane did not prefer Mr. Bingley. You are not an expert in love.”
Mr. Darcy grimaced. “Obviously, judging from my own case, I am in total ignorance in regards to matters of the heart.”
“What nonsense,” Elizabeth murmured, thinking on Darcy’s earlier words about being kinder to Bingley than to himself. Then Charlotte’s words also came to her mind. Damn her good friend! Why was she always right? “Do you mean … you … admire me?” she asked.
Darcy wrinkled his nose. “I am not a scoundrel, Miss Bennet, unlike Wickham. I do not indulge in kissing just any woman passionately. I only kiss women that I …” He clamped his mouth shut. “Where are we?” he said, as he pulled up one of the shades.
He was amazed by the darkness and wilderness surrounding them. It seemed that while they were engaged in their passion and argument, the carriage had not travelled back to Amber House, Darcy’s townhouse in Mayfair, but out of London instead. The darkness was also contributed to by a storm, which seemed to have just started and was getting heavier and heavier. Darcy knocked on the roof of the carriage and it came to a slow stop.
“Where are we, Henry? I thought I instructed you to return to Amber House.”
Henry’s mouth gaped open. “I beg your pardon, sir! I heard you say Amber Way Inn.”
“Deuce! I did not …” Darcy swore, but on seeing his faithful servant’s face turning to red, he stopped and thought back. Damn! He was interrupted by Miss Bennet when he gave the instruction. It was not Henry’s fault. “I apologise, Henry. My instruction was interrupted. How far are we from London? Can we turn back now?”
“Ten miles from London, sir. With the rain and the lanes, I …”
“Turn the carriage back for London, this instance”
Henry did his master’s bidding. As the carriage was large and the lane was narrow, it took some time to turn it around, and the journey back was hindered by the rain. As the carriage travelled on at slow pace, Darcy calculated that they would not arrive back in London until almost the midnight hour, and that was if they were fortunate not to become stranded. On second thoughts, he asked Henry the distance of the isolated inn. It was but two miles from their present location.
“But I must return to London!” Elizabeth protested weakly, as the carriage once again turned around and headed slowly towards Amber Way Inn.
“As you see, that cannot be helped.”
“But that means … we shall stay together overnight … without a chaperone!”
“That is most unfortunate, but I would wager not so for you.”
Elizabeth stared him down in the dark carriage. “What is your implication, sir? That I congratulate myself in such a situation? With you?”
“You were the one with the pistol, forcing me to go with you … to follow your orders, were you not? Now, you shall be honoured by accepting my offer of your hand in marriage.”
“Marriage! Why would I wish to marry you, the most arrogant and selfish man in all England?”
“If I were such a man, I would not offer you the Darcy name. I would allow your reputation to suffer.”
Elizabeth whispered, forcibly, “You were the one who kidnapped me into your carriage and gave wrong instruction to your driver.”
“I …There is no reason to argue further. I shall overlook the improper behaviour of your mother and younger sisters, and your lack of connection, and take an honourable course. Now, let us agree upon a name to give to the innkeeper.”
“Mr. Prideful will suit you most correctly! My low connection and my unsuitable family, indeed! Do not imagine that I shall sever ties with my family if forced to marry you, sir.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Price, it shall be.” Darcy folded his arms. Anger simmered in his chest, but he would not resort to verbal dispute with Elizabeth. Despite the unfortunate situation, he was in some way happy that he was forced to offer his hand in marriage. After all, the woman had already owned his heart for some time. Her wittiness, her compassion for her dear sister, and her courage had impressed him from the beginning, and, today, he had also experienced her fierce protectiveness, her feistiness, and her loyalty, even though they were misplaced. He felt that she would make an excellent Mrs. Darcy, mother of his children, and sister to Georgiana.
Of course, he could not deny that after tasting the heavenly nectar of her lips and palming her wonderful flesh, he anticipated his married life with much delight. Dealing with her family and the malicious gossip of London society would be a price worth paying. After all, they would not see them often. He resolved to request that Bingley visit Miss Bennet on their return to London the very next day. He would then ask Mr. Bennet for permission to marry Elizabeth.
A satisfied grin adorned his face. He relaxed his arms and touched upon Elizabeth’s reticule, which had been thrown on the seat. He took the pistol out, and, from the dim light of the carriage, he saw that it was only a toy!
“A toy duelling pistol!” Darcy smoothed his hand on the exquisitely made toy, while Elizabeth turned her head away from him.
The carriage arrived at the inn and stopped. Henry handed his master and mistress, Mr. and Mrs. Price, down the steps and on to the ground.
Due to the poor weather, there were many stranded guests and only one room available. Elizabeth gritted her teeth and spent the night with Mr. Darcy at a less than satisfactory accommodation.
The next day, Elizabeth faced a house in uproar when she retuned to the Gardiner residence. However, Mr. Darcy’s calm and stately manner smoothed the situation, and he was impressed by the Gardiner’s caring attitude to their niece. While he left the explanation of their engagement to Elizabeth, he acted swiftly in summoning Mr. Bingley to visit Miss Bennet.
As a result, much to the astonishment of Mr. and Mrs. Bennet, they welcomed two gentlemen to Longbourn a few days later, asking for permission to marry their eldest daughters.
While Elizabeth did not love Mr. Darcy on the day she accepted his proposal, she quickly turned to regard him highly. Firstly, because he showed respect to her aunt and uncle, secondly because he reunited Jane and Mr. Bingley, and, finally, he bore her mother’s hysteria regarding the nuptials in a kindly and understanding manner.
By the time they had taken their vows, Elizabeth had sworn to herself that she would find a way to fall in love with her husband. It did not take her long. After three days journeying to Pemberley, and another week in residence, she heard praise of him from Mrs. Reynolds, the Pemberley housekeeper. The new Mrs. Darcy could see her husband’s kind attitude towards his staff and tenants. She was endeared by his good heart and thanked him for loving her, despite her original accusation of his character.
She also admired his restraint and respect when he promised to wait for her to be ready for the wedding bed. It was, therefore, a week after her arrival in Pemberley that Elizabeth stealthily entered her husband’s chambers and climbed onto his bed.
“What are you doing here, Elizabeth?” Darcy asked in a slow and careful tone.
“I come to demand my rights.” She spoke teasingly, digging out the toy pistol from the pocket of her wrap and waving it in his direction.
“Why?”
“Do I have to offer a reason, sir? Do you not see I am armed?”
In one swift movement, Darcy turned her on to her back and pulled the pistol away from her outstretched hand. He threw it on the bedside table, and whispered, “I … said … I … would … wait,” punctuating each word with a kiss.
With Elizabeth’s lovely mane cascading over her shoulders, the wrap parted and her body was dressed in a thin, revealing, almost transparent nightgown, Darcy could control himself no longer. He tasted her, reliving the night in the carriage.
“The wait is over, my love,” Elizabeth murmured.
Darcy stopped suddenly and stared at her. “My love?”
She smiled brightly and raised her head to nip at his lips. “Did you have to repeat all my words?”
He shook his head and stop talking. He did not know how she had come to love him, and so quickly, but he cared not. His mind, fingers, hands, lips and body had better things to do. They were pre-occupied with the lovely Miss Elizabeth Bennet … no … the enticing Mrs. Darcy! It was another three days before Mr. and Mrs. Darcy emerged from their chambers.
The servants who tended the master’s room were surprised at the presence of a toy duelling pistol in the room. The gun came to be used often in the bedchamber throughout the marriage of Mr. and Mrs. Darcy, but the Master of Pemberley demanded that no such toy be given to the next heir.