Pax, the Canine Cupid
1. Chapter One
Chapter One
A knot of nerves threatened to consume Elizabeth, and she did not like it. If this resembled what her mother often referred to as her “poor nerves,” Elizabeth regretted not being more sympathetic. The stress of worrying over her sister while deflecting Caroline Bingley’s barbs was wearing her down. Taking a deep breath of the fresh morning air, Elizabeth tried to relax enough to dispel the tension in her muscles. She wiggled her shoulders in an attempt to work out the kink that had firmly lodged itself between her shoulder blades. As much as she dearly loved Jane and would never have left her to suffer at Netherfield alone, her efforts to aid her sister had been a trial so far. She hoped the slight respite outside would help her gain some of her equanimity before she returned to Jane. It was of no surprise that she and her sister had found themselves at Netherfield. It was just like their mother to orchestrate an occasion for Jane to socialize with a man, only to have it go awry in the most remarkable way. Sending Jane on horseback to Netherfield when it was sure to rain could only end badly, but her mother had thought it a brilliant idea despite Elizabeth suggesting otherwise. Because, of course, if Jane was forced to spend more time at Netherfield than just her invitation for tea, she would be able to get Mr. Bingley to fall in love with her. The thought had never crossed Mrs. Bennet's mind that Jane's tendency to fall ill easily would have dire consequences, leaving her bedridden with a fever instead of socializing with Mr. Bingley in the parlor.
Elizabeth had walked to Netherfield as soon as she learned that Jane had indeed fallen ill. The distance of three miles didn't matter to Elizabeth; she would go to great lengths to ensure the care of her loved ones. Elizabeth was glad she had done it, for she had found Jane to be quite ill indeed, and her care was nearly nonexistent. Miss Bingley's lack of attention towards Jane did not go unnoticed by Elizabeth, especially when compared to the noticeable amount of attention her sister received from Mr. Bingley.
It seemed that Mr. Bingley had been the only one happy to see Elizabeth upon her arrival and was swift to ask that she convey his well wishes for Jane’s quick recovery and wellbeing. With a hopeful smile, Elizabeth wished for Jane and Mr. Bingley's budding romance to unfold naturally, free from unnecessary meddling by their mother or Miss Bingley. Jane deserved to find love with a good man.
Inhaling deeply, Elizabeth let out a sigh tinged with longing, allowing herself to briefly ponder the blissful sensation of being cherished by someone like Mr. Bingley. She didn't feel any bitterness towards her sister for her good fortune; they were merely different people. Elizabeth was well aware that her stubborn personality hindered her chances of finding love.
In an effort to shift her focus, Elizabeth stretched her body and allowed her thoughts to wander freely. Oddly enough, it occurred to her that Caroline Bingley reminded her of her mother in some ways. While her mother was not intentionally cruel, she seemed to have some of the same misconceptions about class and what it meant to be genteel. Mrs. Bennet often said that Elizabeth was too fond of flouting convention. Yes, she had not hesitated to dirty her skirts to care for her ailing sister, but Elizabeth believed that was in keeping with the principle, if not the letter, of belonging to the propertied class. She was proud of being a gentlewoman, even if she viewed the role differently than others did. Elizabeth tried to remind herself that her mother had not been born to the life she inhabited, nor had Miss Bingley.
Fanny Bennet was only a solicitor’s daughter and though she tried to ape the manners of the world she had risen to, she did not understand the deeper things of the position. Her mother could only see the posturing and parties, not the underlying responsibilities that came with her position as a landed gentleman’s wife. Sadly, Mrs. Bennet would not know what noblesse oblige was if it smacked her in the face with a parasol.
Generosity and caring for others over oneself meant a lot to Elizabeth. She would always be grateful to her Aunt Madeleine for taking her under her wing and helping her to learn about the world she faced as a gentleman’s daughter. Orphaned at a young age, Madeleine was raised with her cousins at a modest estate in Derbyshire. Madeline Gardiner had married for love and despite the fact that she had technically married down, she still behaved as a gentleman’s daughter should.
It was her aunt that had taught Elizabeth that if you could help someone, you should. In fact, you had an obligation to do better by the world because you could. Honor, generosity, respectability, and responsibility were Elizabeth’s touchstones. Admittedly, she sometimes had difficulty with the concept of respectability, but that stemmed from how different her view of respectability was from that of people like her mother and Caroline Bingley.
It was apparent to Elizabeth that Caroline Bingley, like her mother, did not quite understand what it meant to be the mistress of an estate. She had a sick guest and yet she spent her time ignoring and deriding her. That was entirely putting aside her treatment of Elizabeth, also a guest, albeit an unexpected one. The way she treated them both was an utter disgrace to her position.
Tilting her head back, Elizabeth soaked in the soft morning light. Even though most of Netherfield’s courtyard was still painted in creeping shadows, she had managed to find a well-lit spot to absorb the glory of the rising sun. She would need its strength for another day of barbs. She had never perfected—nor had she wanted to—adopting Jane’s serene appearance. That did not mean she wanted the people who seemed to be intentionally provoking and insulting her to know that she was affected by their words.
Elizabeth was drawn from her reflections by a small impact against her calf. Startled, she directed her gaze downwards and immediately spotted a small smudge marring her dress and the culprit, a dirt-streaked stone, perched against her boot. Did that small stone just hit her? And more importantly, where did it come from?
Eager for escape, Darcy hurried out the door before Miss Bingley discovered him. It had been a simple matter to offer rewards to any footmen who kept him informed of her movements within the house. Thankfully, with their help, he was usually one step ahead of her. When the footman had told him that Miss Bingley had risen early in order to corner him over breakfast, he had gulped down his coffee, grabbed some buttered toast, and bolted. It was always good to have reliable men watching his back where that woman was concerned. He smiled as he headed for the side door through one of the seldom used drawing rooms. He would walk around the building through the courtyard and then saddle his horse for a ride.
Caroline Bingley often searched for him, attempting to persuade him of her suitability as his wife. Sadly, his rebuffs meant nothing to her. Darcy had always tried to be polite but relatively cold towards his friend’s sister. It was becoming readily apparent that his current method of discouragement was not working. After two years of dodging her unwanted advances, he was more than ready for it to end.
Bingley often apologized for how his sister hounded him, but nothing he said to his sister seemed to dissuade her. Darcy was starting to wonder if he should just be blunt about how he felt the next time she tried something. It would not be the polite thing to do, but it might be the only thing that would stop her pursuit. Sighing, he wondered if telling her she would never make him happy in marriage would even matter to her. It was only Pemberley she wanted, after all.
Perhaps telling her he would certainly refuse to allow her the leeway she would want to be happy in marriage would work better. No wife of his would ever behave as she did as mistress of an estate, not if she wanted to live at Pemberley instead of a cottage at the far reaches of civilization. He fought a smile, thinking that the final nail in her coffin would be when he told her he would never allow her to stay in London for the season because he thought her petty harping and gossiping ways were shameful. Would that be too much, though? He did not want to destroy his friendship with Bingley. Regardless of his worries, Darcy felt he may be forced to act.
At the very least, he would have to speak with Bingley about his sister once again. The way Miss Bingley was treating the Bennet sisters during their stay was atrocious. Regardless of her feelings on the matter, as the mistress of Netherfield, it was her responsibility to treat them with care and consideration. He knew that Caroline Bingley mistakenly believed her behavior with the Bennet ladies would degrade them and simultaneously make herself shine in his view. She could not be more wrong. As it was, the thought of Miss Bingley hurting the two gentlewomen because of him turned his stomach. Darcy could not allow her to continue to play that game, not if he could help it.
Making it out the side door and into the little garden there, he felt his shoulders lose some of their tension. He took a moment to breathe deeply. It would not do to become out of sorts. A Darcy was always in control of his sensibilities . It had been his father’s constant admonition. Taking a small bite of his pilfered toast, he chewed slowly, letting his mind wander while he walked. Did Bingley not understand how badly his sister was behaving? Darcy was lending Bingley a hand because of his lack of knowledge in estate management. He was most likely also unaware of all that went into being the mistress of an estate. Darcy decided Bingley’s ignorance was going to have to end, as his sister was taking her petty behavior too far.
Shoving his last bite of toast in his mouth rather inelegantly, Darcy tried to convince himself that his concern had nothing to do with Miss Elizabeth and her enchanting eyes. Nor was it the way she could hold her own against the petty actions of Miss Bingley without employing cruelty in response. Or her well-read mind and ability to participate in well-reasoned arguments. Gritting his teeth, Darcy forced his mind away from the dangerous path it was traveling.
Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not for him. No matter how much his heart desired something else, he couldn't escape the expectations that came with being a Darcy. Though it seemed that no matter how many times he told himself that, he was drawn toward her impertinent smiles, dancing eyes, and brilliant mind. Miss Elizabeth was a siren song of everything he had ever wanted in his life, but had been told he would never have.
His inability to get Miss Elizabeth out of his mind, despite his best efforts, was proving dangerous. He seemed to lose his vaunted control when he was around her. Just the night before, he had come upon her in the library and wanted to speak without a care for any consequence of being alone with her in the room. Noticing that she was holding a book on Plato, he desperately wanted to ask her opinion of the relevance of Greek philosophers in the modern era. He knew that her response would be well thought out and delightful no matter her opinion, and he wanted to watch the facets of her mind sparkle as they discussed the subject.
The desire to know her better and watch her shine had confused him. It was so incongruous with his typical caution around women that he reacted badly. Instead of the intellectual debate he wanted to participate in, he had said something terse. Darcy had watched her eyes shutter, effectively extinguishing the happy sparkle she always had. He had done that; he had hurt her. Trying to look for the best in the situation, it occurred to Darcy that if she was angry at him, he would not be in danger of breaking both their hearts.
Stopping on the path, Darcy toed a stone with his boot. Yes, he was angry at Miss Bingley for her actions, but he was no better. It did not matter that he kept behaving badly to Miss Bennet to protect them both; the ends did not justify the means. Running his hand down his face, Darcy bit back a curse. He was going to give himself another megrim. The last time that had happened, he had behaved even worse, calling Miss Elizabeth tolerable and behaving rudely to everyone in town. He could not let things progress that far, not while she was staying at Netherfield. Who knew what he might do? Kicking the stone in frustration, Darcy watched in horror as it flew towards the courtyard and right at Miss Elizabeth, who had just walked through the arbor.
Knowing instinctually that the stone had to have been propelled from somewhere, Elizabeth cast her glance around and tried to find the source of the projectile. It was a greater surprise to spot Mr. Darcy staring at her, his eyes wide in apparent horror. Her building anger deflated when she realized how comical he looked.
The always-poised-and-perfectly-presentable Mr. Darcy would probably blush if he knew how he presented himself at that moment. Not only were there crumbs on the corner of his upper lip, but his mouth was agape, and the whites of his eyes seemed to be growing by the moment. Tilting her head, Elizabeth found herself oddly pleased to see his imperfection at play. Perhaps he was more human than he tried to appear.
Willing to put him out of his misery, Elizabeth said, “Good morning, Mr. Darcy. How are you this fine morning?” The clear signs of regret on his face moved Elizabeth to forgive him for his mistake. Being petty served no purpose.
Mr. Darcy seemed to come out of his frozen stupor, first snapping his mouth shut and then opening it quickly to say, “Miss Elizabeth, I must apologize most earnestly. I had thought no one out and about when I kicked the stone.”
Narrowing her eyes slightly, Elizabeth was curious to note his improved manners, so different from his rudeness the night before. Was it possible that he was more of a morning person? “I am uninjured, and I doubt my dress is worse for one small stone. I am not some wilting violet after all,” Elizabeth reassured him.
She watched in confusion as Mr. Darcy closed his eyes at her words. It was as if her words had wounded him somehow. She waited while he ran one of his large hands down his face, inadvertently dislodging the crumbs in the corner of his mouth. It seemed that Mr. Darcy was pondering more than just his momentary lapse of judgment. Kicking a stone while walking alone was not some horrible action, so what had him so lost in thought?
Mr. Darcy dropped his hand to his side and sighed. “I find myself regretting my actions this morning, Miss Elizabeth.”
She was growing worried now. What had the dower man so out of sorts? Stepping closer to him, she almost reached out, but after hesitating she merely said, “I have kicked many a stone in frustration. Do not worry overmuch over something so inconsequential.”
Oddly, her words seemed to offer no comfort, only pain. When he visibly winced at her words, Elizabeth felt her latent compassion rising to the surface. Sure, he had insulted her at the assembly and been cold and sometimes rude since her arrival at Netherfield, but he was distressed. Elizabeth’s conscience wouldn't let her stand by and watch him suffer without taking action. She was about to ask him what was wrong, but a crashing sound coming from the direction of the nearby woods captured her attention.
Turning to face the disturbance, Elizabeth tried to puzzle out the sound of something careening through the underbrush at speed. Was that a bark? Narrowing her eyes once more, she noted movement in the brush right before Mr. Darcy’s large back blocked her view. Was he trying to protect her from whatever was approaching?
Darcy quickly scanned the area. The wilderness that ran along the side of Netherfield was full of obstructive underbrush. Darcy had once thought the dense foliage harmless, but now he doubted his previous supposition. Anything could be lurking unseen and, at that moment, something rather large was coming their way at speed.
His analytical mind started shifting through possibilities. The sound was too large to be something like a fox or a badger. When flickers of gray appeared between the leaves, Darcy moved in front of Miss Elizabeth, determined to protect her from the approaching threat. Was that a wolf? Of course not , Darcy mused, shaking his head at the stupidity of the fleeting idea. It could not possibly be a wolf. They had been extinct in England for decades.
Breaking through the last of the woods, the beast came into the open. Whatever it was, it was very wolf like. It was large and hairy with a lope that ate up the distance between them at an alarming rate. A pink tongue hung out the side of a gaping maw, showing off rather sharp teeth, and Darcy braced himself for an attack.
“Pax!” Miss Elizabeth shouted, and he realized she had been peeking around him. Before he could react, she boldly stepped around him and confronted the beast, standing tall with her hands firmly planted on her hips. With a commanding tone, she questioned, “What are you doing here, you naughty boy?”
Darcy feared that he was about to watch her be mauled in front of him, but instead, the large animal cowered before her. It took a moment for his mind to process that the thing covered in wiry hair must be a dog, albeit an enormous one. Had she just called for peace in Latin? Was he her pet?
In astonishment, Darcy watched as the lanky beast crawled on his belly towards Miss Elizabeth and then finally rolled over onto his back, exposing his belly to be rubbed. If not for his size, he would resemble his aunt Lady Matlock’s little dog when he begged for treats. Darcy cleared his throat to ask Miss Elizabeth something, but in the end could not decide what to say. He was still struggling to make sense of all that had transpired within the span of only a few moments.
“Don’t you act like that,” she cried. “You are a bad boy. What will Johnson say when he notices you missing from Longbourn’s stables?” Making a tsking sound, Miss Elizabeth only hesitated for a moment before dropping to her knees and scratching the animal’s exposed belly.
Eyebrows lifting in surprise, Darcy watched the joy that flitted across Miss Elizabeth’s face. It was obvious she loved the large dog and if the way the animal wiggled was any indication, the feeling was mutual. He loved dogs and had often thought that when he married, he would hope to choose a woman who loved them as well. Darcy had actually thought of having a kennel full at some point in the future. However, he knew not every woman would be tolerant of having dogs underfoot in the house. In fact, he had met many women who were uneasy with dogs, even small ones, but here was Miss Elizabeth, playing and cooing with the largest dog he had ever seen.
Why was the world conspiring to show him how exactly perfect Miss Elizabeth was for him? Didn’t the universe know of the expectations placed upon him from a young age? His future marriage would be determined based on family connections, disregarding his personal desires. Wasn’t it?