All Hallow's Eve (74 page)

Being but a child, his son could comprehend only rejection, and had no idea what he could do to accomplish the first promise he had made to his mother. It seemed that no matter what he did, he caused his father additional pain.

The son became overly cautious in his behaviour as a result. Pride being the single emotion the older Darcy would vocalize in reference to his son, from then on the young man did his best to mirror that emotion and behave perfectly, hoping to please his father.

Any time they spent together was
center
ed
on reviewing the details of estate management. In rare instances, they would discuss a book they both had read. Though before his mother’s death those had been subjects that young Darcy looked forward to talking over with his father, after his mother had passed on, he was too filled with an anxious need to seek his approval to enjoy those occasions.

As the years passed, Mrs. Reynolds had often noted aloud that while Georgiana grew to resemble their mother very closely physically, the young master had many of the same mannerisms and facial expressions as his mother. Young Darcy speculated that being near his children was too painful a reminder of all that his father had lost, but the son’s understanding alone could not bring about reconciliation.

Ten years after his wife had passed on, Mr. George Darcy was laid to rest beside Lady Anne in the family graveyard within the grounds of Pemberley. At the tender age of two and twenty, their son became master of one of the grandest estates in all of England, and co-guardian to his much younger sister.

You were made perfectly to be loved – and surely I have loved you, in the idea of you, my whole life long.

--Elizabeth Barrett Browning (English Poet 1806-1861)

Tuesday, October 15, 1811

As he slowed his horse to a walk, his gaze swept across the landscape of the place he believed to afford the perfect prospect. The lake reflected a beautifully clear sky and a mirror image of Pemberley House. His eyes were drawn toward the vision of loveliness that strode in his direction. The sight of her never failed to take his breath away; skin glowing with health that came from long walks in the sunshine, eyes sparkling with intelligence and wit. At the moment she noticed him nearing, a bewitching smile spread across her lips.

“Perfect!” he breathed.

He allowed the reins to fall to the ground as he dismounted and drank in her form, reveling in the grace of her movements as she approached him.

She came to stand before him, their bodies almost touching, and her eyes captured his. His breath quickened; her scent nearly overwhelmed his senses.

She raised a hand to caress his cheek, and he bowed his head to meet her touch. Bestowing upon him the gentlest of kisses, she then pulled back to look in his eyes. His heart rejoiced to recognize his own feelings reflected within her soul.

Winding his arms around her waist, he delighted in the feel of every inch of her body pressed against his. Lips met again and again. As he
savour
ed the taste of her love for him, her delicate fingers laced through his hair. The kiss deepened.

Though he felt he should never need to breathe again as long as she was near, his lungs rebelled. They pulled apart after one last gentle kiss.

Her saucy grin reached her eyes. “Have you had your fill of exercise for one morning, or would you rather join me?”

“A walk, perhaps, or would you like to receive the riding lessons I promised you?”

“I think not today, my love. My mind was turned more toward indoor activities. You are in desperate need of a bath, and I was looking forward to… assisting. I am certain the opportunity of other forms of exercise will soon present itself.”

The expression in her eyes made him gasp softly. “I do believe that can be arranged,” he responded, his voice husky, whilst bending closer for another kiss...

Fitzwilliam Darcy awakened with a start and turned away from the glare of dawn’s rays filtering through the open window. He burrowed further into the bedding and fought to hold on to the fading memory of the way
she
had felt in his arms. In the end, he had to reconcile himself to the truth—it had been only a dream.

As his gaze swept the room, recognition seeped through his sluggish musings. He sighed.
N
etherfield... and yet
a
nother
day of enduring Caroline Bingley’s relentless attentions.

Although willing to put up with much for his good friend’s sake, he had to admit that after spending a fortnight at Charles Bingley’s new home, the situation was becoming almost too difficult to bear.

Bingley’s elder sister Mrs. Hurst’s habit of invariably repeating the opinions of those around her had long since become excessively annoying. The observation of her husband’s seemingly permanent state of inebriation had, at first, proven distracting, but he soon found this diversion to grow monotonous.

Still, the notion of shortening his visit would never have occurred to him if not for the presence of Bingley’s other sister. After two weeks of suffering through Caroline Bingley’s relentlessly enthusiastic pursuit of him, Darcy was tempted to escape to London—to be blissfully alone.

The only housemate who exhibited the smallest of sense was Bingley himself, but even this good fortune seemed to be coming to an end.

Last evening, his host had said, “I believe I will enjoy country living. All of the gentlemen in the area are quite sociable. Since our arrival, they have paid more visits than I had expected, and we have received many invitations. In answer to your references to a lack of activity, Caroline, you should be pleased to know that during my ride into the village today, I purchased tickets to the local assembly so that we may meet the families of all of our new neighbours. Sir William promises a superior time will be had by all!”

Once Caroline had recovered from tittering laughter, she answered, “Yes, of course! The local populous must be
overjoyed
to have true gentlemen such as Mr. Darcy and you in the neighbourhood.” A slight sneer appeared upon her features, “But I do not believe that attending this assembly is at all necessary! While a country assembly might be considered ‘superior’ to
this
society, I have no doubt that it would seem primitive when compared to what we are accustomed to in London. If nothing else, think of Mr. Darcy, brother. He dislikes dancing so completely.”

Darcy remembered thinking that if Caroline had thought as highly of
his
comfort as she pretended to do at that moment, she would have excused him from dancing with her as she knew he disliked the activity.

“And
I
think that going out into society is just the thing to break Darcy’s gloomy disposition of late! I insist that we shall go. Besides, I have already purchased the tickets... we cannot back out now.”

Darcy shook his head—how did Bingley expect
this
event to resolve his gloomy disposition? He was aware only that Darcy was “uncomfortable with strangers.” Darcy wondered how his friend would react if his true level of discomfort at events such as these was known to him.

An evening which promised being surrounded by strangers—matchmaking mamas and mercenary young ladies certain to be among them—was
not
Darcy’s idea of a pleasant time. It tended more towards torture from his perspective.

Darcy moaned aloud and buried his head under a pillow. Every fibre of his being was yearning to escape into sleep, eagerly craving to be delivered into the arms of the woman who had haunted his dreams for a fortnight. But Morpheus had no intention of obliging his desire.

His thoughts wandered to the day that he had arrived in Hertfordshire.

Soon after departing London, he had come to understand why Bingley had hinted at riding alongside the carriage instead of within it. Three hours never seemed to take so long to pass! After Caroline Bingley’s non-stop chattering and blatant attempts at flirtation, he had been in desperate need of fresh air and exercise to recompose himself. One of Netherfield’s stable boys had suggested he ride to Oakham Mount, which he promised would offer the best view of the area.

Even now, Darcy was uncertain whether the lady he had observed there had been real or an illusion. Her eyes had been closed, her face tilted upward. As the light breeze played with a number of chestnut brown curls which had broken free from their confinement. Her arms had been extended slightly from her sides. To him, she had seemed an angel about to take flight, and he almost had expected her to sprout wings.

She was the most beautiful thing he had ever beheld.

As if by enchantment, he had felt as if he were being drawn toward her, but he had encountered difficulty in discerning a path through the thicket that separated them. His disappointment had been great when he reached the top and discovered no trace of her.

Darcy returned to Oakham Mount daily, even varying the time of the day after being unsuccessful in his quest, but
had not come upon her a second time.

Sighing again, he decided that the stress of the past few weeks, followed by that horrid carriage ride, must have affected him more than he had realized, causing him to imagine the vision of perfection at Oakham Mount.

Has it not been proven that there is not a woman alive who could make me feel the way I did when I saw her? I
must be content with simply spending time with this idealized vision in my dreams alone!

The familiar sounds of his valet making preparations for the day pulled Darcy from his reverie.

Whether he would rather to stay in bed amongst the memories of his dream-lady mattered not; the time had come to rise and face the day—it was expected of him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~Meryton, Hertfordshire

Elizabeth Bennet carefully ascended the stairs to the assembly room, following behind the other ladies of her family.

It had been a hectic day at Longbourn—a day filled with ribbons, lace, dresses, and shoes while six ladies rushed to and fro in preparation for the evening’s activities. Mr. Bennet could not manage at all in this atmosphere, consequently, about halfway through breakfast he left his wife and daughters to themselves for the relative peace of having the commotion muffled by the thick wood of his library door—behind which he would remain until his family had returned from the ball.

Upon her arrival in the ballroom,
Elizabeth
noted that she would need to find a private place to make a few minor repairs to her gown. Her youngest sister, Lydia, in her state of anticipation of the dancing that was soon to be had, had fidgeted about in the cramped carriage and had torn Elizabeth’s hem. Once civilities had been properly attended to,
Elizabeth
found the proprietor’s wife, Mrs. Jones, and was led to a small room in which she could make her repairs.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The light that lies in woman’s eyes, has been my heart’s undoing.

--Thomas Moore (Irish Poet 1779-1852)

The Netherfield party entered the assembly room. All sound and movement ceased as all eyes were turned toward the door.

Darcy managed to hold his blush at bay by raising
The Mask
—a severe, aloof expression behind which he usually hid when out in society to keep others as far away as possible. Though his expression may have been under good regulation, his thoughts and emotions were not.
This is worse than I had expected—even Bingley looks uncomfortable. How can anyone breathe with such a horde crushing in on him? Why must so many people crowd into this small room?

Sensing their eyes upon him, his skin crawled, and his heart began to pound. Anxiety threatening to overwhelm him, Darcy hoped that none of these strangers would dare approach him. A clock on the far wall caught his attention, and he concentrated on the second hand to assist in breathing at regular intervals.

After what seemed like hours, but was in reality only a few moments, the crowd began to stir and converse once again. As soon as the attention of the room was no longer directed solely at their party, his anxiety lessened. Darcy carefully moved his attention from the second hand and began to take note of his surroundings. He perceived Sir William Lucas moving forward to greet them, offering to introduce the party to the neighbourhood. Darcy followed Bingley, though the remainder of their party did not deign to do the same.

Bingley chatted easily with his new neighbours in his usual cheerful manner, happily diverting attention away
from him. He listened to Bingley’s conversations, but could not avoid hearing the whispers around them. Darcy recognized the usual gossip of the matchmaking mamas.
Ah, so it is five thousand for Bingley and ten thousand for me this time, eh? I wonder how they make their estimations.

They neared a petite, but very
loud,
woman with graying auburn hair who was soon introduced as Mrs. Bennet. Darcy smiled internally when he recognized the puppyish look fall over Bingley’s face the moment Bingley spotted the blonde beauty standing next to the matron. It was the same expression that overtook Bingley’s countenance whenever he found a new object of infatuation, rendering him forgetful of all the other ladies on a seemingly never-ending list of those he had admired for brief intervals in the past.

The open manners and amiability which Bingley displayed at all times would always endear him to the loveliest lady at any gathering—and to all the other ladies as well. Bingley’s good temper never allowed him to notice that these ladies battled for his attention, in a competition that was especially ruthless up until he made his preference known. Darcy sighed in relief that, this night at least, Bingley had made his selection obvious in a timelier manner than was usual. He despised witnessing the incivility that ladies displayed toward one another when they were vying for the attentions of an eligible gentleman. Darcy had noted in the past that the more amiable or rich the gentleman, the more callous the ladies became. In the five years since his father's death, some of the behaviour he had witnessed in pursuit of his inheritance
 
had disgusted him. It was bewildering to him that Bingley observed none of it—ever. He felt it was as if it were impossible for his friend to think badly of ladies, though he seemed capable enough of recognizing abhorrent qualities amongst those of his own gender.