“It is the third of December,” his valet replied. “Yes, we are in London. Are you well, sir?”
“I am well, Simmons, merely recovering from a strange dream,” Darcy said brusquely, rubbing his hand over his face. “Is it time for me to wake?”
“It is seven, sir,” the valet answered. “I would have woken you in another half an hour as usual.”
“I will rise now. Will you prepare my bath? Oh, and order coffee, please,” he requested, his voice softer than usual. The valet nodded and left the room, leaving Darcy to contemplate his dream.
He could not help the feeling of loss that overcame him upon realising Elizabeth would refuse him if asked. Immediately, however, he attempted to shake off this thought. It was only a dream. But hehadconvinced Bingley to remain in London after paying far too much attention to Jane Bennet. Could any part of the dream have been true? They were in the parsonage at Hunsford—Darcy had paid a visit there a time or two on one ofhis forays into Kent, and recognised the room, but Elizabeth had never been there.
Darcy remembered Mr. Collins, that fool of a parson who was with them at the ball. He was typical of the type of person his aunt would hire in such a position, but surely, his Elizabeth would never marry him. The thought struck him viscerally, and for a moment he nearly staggered at the sense of loss, but then he recalled that he had proposed in the dream.I could not have proposed to a married woman. Elizabeth is his cousin, so perhaps she was merely visiting. Was one of her sisters forced to marry him after we departed?
These thoughts tormented him as he waited for his valet to return with his coffee. His thoughts were muddled as images of the dream, images of Elizabeth in a temper, her beautiful eyes flashing, plagued him.Why can I not forget the blasted woman? I am right; she is beneath me in consequence. She has no connections, no dowry worth mentioning, nothing to tempt me. So why do I want her so badly?
His valet entered with a tray, and then left him to his thoughts again. Darcy began to pace the room, a cup of coffee now in his hand. Stopping to take a drink, he started pacing again, muttering to himself as he did so.
“It is not too late to deal with both accusations she levelled against me. Bingley should be easily convinced to return to Netherfield and invite me to join him, where I may judge for myself what Elizabeth thinks of me. Wickham and his lies will be more difficult to deal with. I do not know precisely what he said of me, but one can presume he shared the story of the denied living. I need to warn Elizabeth. In truth, I should have warned all in Meryton about his habit of ruining women and running up debts with no intention of paying.
“I hold enough of his debts to have him jailed—but what of Georgiana? What might I do to protect her reputation?” He paused for a moment to think. “Elizabeth! If I tell Elizabeth the truth about Wickham, she will help me devise a plan to deal with the miscreant. And once he has left Meryton, I might invite Georgiana to visit, and she can meet Elizabeth.”
He sighed heavily, scrubbing his hands across his face as he admitted to himself the affection he felt for Elizabeth. “What am I doing?” he asked himself. “This was only a dream. I would never deign to offer for a woman such as Elizabeth Bennet. I love her. But I cannot marry her.” His family would never condone such a match. And he would not want to subject her to the ton even if he were inclined to actually denigrate himself enough to offer for her with her lack of dowry and poor connections.
Chapter Two
Since the night of the ball, Elizabeth Bennet had been annoyed by everything and everyone. Nearly all the men she knew—Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy, Mr. Collins, Mr. Bingley—became the target of her vexation. Her father also earned a spot for his indolence and his ability to laugh at his family instead of doing anything to correct their behaviour.
This morning, she escaped from her house for a walk. Normally she would not walk out on such a cool day, but she was nearly desperate for time alone, away from her family—time to think.
The ball at Netherfield had been a disaster. To no one’s surprise, her entire family had acted in a way that mortified her. Kitty and Lydia had drunk too much of the punch and ran around like little flirts. Mary’s playing had been awful, and the way her father had corrected her embarrassed not only Mary but everyone near enough to hear. Her mother had spoken loudly and often about her hopes for Jane and Mr. Bingley and refused to moderate herself. Elizabeth knew Mr. Darcy had heard it all. She had little doubt that he was to blame for Mr. Bingley’s leaving Netherfield.
The news that the Bingley party had departed for London mere hours afterwards should not come as a shock, though she still held out hope that Mr. Bingley would return. However, the longer he was away, the more she wondered if he would, despite how often she reassured her sister.
Mr. Collins proposed the following day, assured of his acceptance, and would not hear her refuse him. Mama had tried to demand she accept, but thankfully her father had refused to require it of her, though even that was done in a sardonic manner that poked fun at her mother, Mr. Collins, and herself. And yet he had taken no action to prevent it, even though she had told him on more than one occasion that Mr. Collins appeared to be pursuing her and that his attentions were unwelcome.
All of this was difficult enough without the additional complication of the last two gentlemen. Mr. Wickham had not attended the ball as he said he would. At first, she was inclined to believe his excuses and to blame Mr. Darcy for his defection, but other things had made her question his claims. He had said that Mr. Darcy would not drive him away, yet he did not attend because of the other gentleman’s presence. He claimed to have done so to avoid a scene, but Mr. Darcy was the last person to make a scene in public.
In truth, it was the memory of Mr. Darcy that sent Elizabeth outdoors this morning. More accurately, it was the dream she had of him the previous night, in which the arrogant, frustrating, haughty man had dared to propose to her in the worst way imaginable. Mr. Collins’s proposal had been awful and insulting; Mr. Darcy’s words in her dream had somehow been far worse. Just like Mr. Collins, he had had little doubt of his reception, and believed that Elizabeth would never deign to refuse him.
At least Mr. Darcy had professedsomeaffection for her. Recalling the words from her dream, she replayed what he had said:“In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
What came next, however, was not only insulting but offensive. He called their possible connection a degradation to his own status in society. The events that followed did neither of them any credit. She was shrewish; he was arrogant and proud. The two fiercely argued. Frankly, Elizabeth was surprised to learn that the man did, apparently, have feelings. In all their acquaintance, she had never seen him appear to possess even a modicum of emotions, but he had in her dream.
Part of her wanted to dismiss the whole dream as purely fanciful, but something made her wonder if it were mere fantasy or some sort of prophecy. Elizabeth laughed at the thought. “Mr. Darcy would never stoop so low as to offer for me,” she voiced into the wind.
Despite this assurance, she recalled the pained look in his eye when she flung her final words at him in the dream:“I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
That had hurt him. It was as though time had stood still for a moment as she said it, and she saw him wince and noted the hurt look in his eyes. Perhaps his stated affection for her was not merely a figment of her imagination as she first thought.
She sighed heavily as she recounted his parting words:“You have said quite enough, madam. I perfectly comprehend your feelings, and have now only to be ashamed of what my own have been. Forgive me for having taken up so much ofyour time, and accept my best wishes for your health and happiness.”
Almost as soon as he departed from the room, she was transported into a grove where she saw him again. This time, he was holding out a letter to her. No words were spoken as time once again stood still, but she glimpsed pain in his eyes. Lingering behind the pain was the same look that her Uncle Gardiner so often bestowed on his wife, the only couple of her acquaintance that had a love match.
Her confusion over the feelings the dream had aroused had sent her out of doors to puzzle out its meaning on her walk. Surely, Mr. Darcy could not truly harbour an affection for her. After all, she was merely “tolerable.” He had stared at her frequently throughout their acquaintance, and she knew he disdained her family. Not only that, but she suspected he was behind Mr. Bingley’s delayed return to Netherfield. Miss Bingley’s letter indicated the friends were spending time together, and while Elizabeth did not credit the implication that Mr. Bingley was pursuing Miss Darcy, she wondered if Mr. Darcy was not conspiring with Miss Bingley to keep the two apart.
Shaking her head as if to clear it, she determined to ponder the matter no further. She would never cross paths with Mr. Darcy again, and if she did, she would let his behaviour guide her. Through the dream, she had come to think a little better of the man. Something in it made her question the veracity of Mr. Wickham’s claims against him, and it occurred to her how his admission breached propriety.
Mr. Wickham had waited until Elizabeth affirmed Mr. Darcy’s unpopular standing in Meryton before divulging their history to her. Moreover, despite his avowal of reluctance to disparage the family, he proceeded to do just that. Not only did he tell her, butthe narrative of the denied living spread among the town mere days after Mr. Darcy’s departure. Though she was unconcerned by this before, Elizabeth’s dream prompted her to reassess their dynamic, leaving her with a disquieting sense of having too eagerly embraced the gentleman’s account.
Feeling no better, Elizabeth realised she had been away from home too long and grudgingly returned.
