Chapter 1.1 #2
“Mr Darcy, this is hardly the time or place to talk. I was attempting to find refuge from the storm before we met, and I intend to continue doing so. Good day, sir.”
She began to walk at a quicker pace, but he was behind her in an instant.
“You are perfectly right—forgive me for my thoughtless behaviour. If I may be so bold, might you consider allowing me to accompany you? I confess I am not familiar with these grounds, and I should be most grateful to you for any help you can offer me in finding my way. On the other hand, I hope to be of assistance should you need it.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before answering. She could not leave a man alone in the woods in such awful weather, even if that man was Mr Darcy. He was correct; she might need a man’s hand if only for assistance in opening the old cottage door.
“Of course you may join me, and I hope, despite the fact that we are not friends, that we might help each other to pass this difficult time.”
She continued to walk as Darcy trudged closely behind, lost in his own intense thoughts.
∞∞∞
Darcy was stunned. Her words resounded in his mind, but he was unable to comprehend their meaning.
“Offending me appears to be a regular pattern of our meetings whether they take place in a ballroom or in the woods.” Had she heard his indiscreet remarks about her at the assembly where they first met?
She said she would have thought twice before rescuing him if she had known who he was, and she was continually offended by him. How could that be?
He was convinced that he had given her more attention than any other young lady.
From almost the beginning of their acquaintance, he had come to admire her.
He was deeply attracted by the beautiful expression of her dark, sparkling eyes, her wit and liveliness, and her open, unaffected manners.
He had confessed to himself that, if not for the inferiority of her connexions, he would have been in real danger.
The inferiority of her connexions—and the complete lack of propriety of her mother and younger sisters—was his best defence against this dangerous attraction.
He could never consider connecting himself to a woman whose situation in life was so beneath his and whose family was in such need of a sound education.
The mere thought of Mrs Bennet and her daughters running and yelling around him at Pemberley was enough to diminish the ardour he felt every time Elizabeth was in his presence…
or in his mind…or in his dreams. Diminish, yes—but it did not make the attraction vanish.
However, it did not take him long to understand fully that he was in danger no matter how inferior her situation might be, and he had spent the past couple of weeks in exhausting torment, trying to fight against the most frightful feeling he had ever experienced.
Every day he waited for an opportunity to see her and speak to her, and every night when sleep evaded him, he blamed himself for his fickle obsession and weakness.
When they happened to meet, her presence made him feel tense and dizzy at the same time.
He desperately watched her every move, smile, and lively conversation but never interfered in any of them.
He was astonished at the way he reacted to her.
His heart pounded wildly, his eyes sought a sign of recognition from her, and he shivered any time she was close or spoke to him.
He tried to convince himself that it was nothing more than the physical attraction he felt for a handsome woman, and he forced himself to censure and control his reactions.
Never had his body responded in such a powerful and disturbing way to a woman’s presence, and this weakness ashamed him. Moreover, he could not remember whether he ever truly had been attracted to any woman before meeting Elizabeth.
Reluctantly, he admitted to himself this failure and lack of self-control, trying to release his distress with reasonable explanations.
First, it had been a few years since he was in a woman’s intimate company.
His duties—to his sister and to all those who depended on him—left him little time to think of selfish pleasures.
Even if he did occasionally think of them, he was always a man of great self-control and a strong will that induced him to do only what was proper and what was demanded.
Secondly, Miss Elizabeth Bennet was not only a handsome woman but singularly different from all the ladies he had met before; she had a witty mind and uncommon intelligence.
Therefore, he allowed himself to be attracted to her.
Nevertheless, he understood he was deceiving himself—with little success.
He might be telling himself that what he felt was mere attraction, but he knew it was more—frighteningly more.
He understood this during the time she stayed at Netherfield tending her sick sister—the most wonderful, trying and tormenting days he remembered enduring in years.
Yes, her appearance was always a most pleasurable and delightful sight, but it was equally pleasant to talk to her, to listen to her bright answers to Caroline Bingley’s vicious attacks, and to witness her determination in expressing and sustaining her own opinions.
Every time she spoke to him, there was a mixture of sweetness and archness in her response.
He never knew whether he should feel offended or admire her even more for her wit.
Her soft lips were always twitching in a most tempting way, her eyes sparkling and her eyebrow deliciously rising in challenge.
He was convinced beyond any doubt that she understood his feelings, reciprocated them, and awaited his attentions.
However, he could not offer her that. He could not fancy himself offering her anything more than a simple acquaintance.
His duties and his family’s expectations forbade any other intentions or thoughts regarding Elizabeth Bennet.
She was to remain a pleasant memory—a most pleasant memory—but nothing more.
Therefore, not wanting to trifle with her or her feelings, he decided to avoid any further attentions to her that could raise expectations impossible for him to fulfil.
Consequently, he withdrew even more, content to admire her from afar. He talked to her less in her last days at Netherfield and tried to avoid her company. He actually spent more than half an hour reading in the library while she was in the same room without addressing a single word to her.
That morning, as with many other mornings, he awoke after only a few hours of restless sleep—another disturbing matter.
Every time he closed his eyes, she appeared in his mind; never before in his life had he dreamt of any woman.
Now, his dreams were filled with Elizabeth Bennet, and they were the sorts of dreams he was disinclined to remember. It would not do!
He had fetched his horse and thrown himself into a long, wild ride in dreadful weather precisely to clear his mind of her image and forget about the ball that, no doubt, would bring her again to Netherfield. Nothing could be worse than seeing her dance with other men.
Now, here they were together, alone—dangerously alone.
He followed her, watching from behind. Her hair was in great disorder and soaking wet.
Her dark curls had escaped their hairpins and lay in heavy waves about her shoulders and back.
Her gown and shoes were mud-soaked, and yet he was sure she had never looked more beautiful.
What a simpleton I am! While I tried to conceal my preference for her, I was never in any danger of raising expectations; she simply hates me—
“Mr Darcy! Mr Darcy!” She tried to catch his attention, but he was so involved in his thoughts that she had to shout at him several times before he heard her.
“I am so sorry, Miss Bennet…I was distracted. Is there anything I can do?” He looked at her intently.
That look again, she thought. Well, this time I cannot blame him; I must look simply horrendous.
At least I do not have to worry for my safety in being alone with this man.
If he did not find me handsome enough to tempt him at the assembly when I looked my best, God knows what he thinks of me now when I am such a mess.
“Mr Darcy, this is the place. Will you be so kind as to try opening the door?”
“Of course—allow me, please.”
He tried the iron doorknob, but the door was tightly closed; meanwhile, the weather was getting worse. He forced the door with his shoulder—once, twice, and the door gave way.
“Come, Miss Bennet.”
She entered with a great sense of relief as she was feeling increasingly chilled. She felt her lips trembling as her body shook. Darcy followed her in and glanced about the first room.
“Do you know this place?”
“Yes, I know it very well.”
“Do you think I could find something useful for us—something to start a fire perhaps? Or some blankets?”
“I know with certainty that we shall find all those things; this cottage was built precisely to offer shelter for a short period of time in situations like this. They must be in the main room near the fireplace.”
They entered together, finding everything located precisely as Elizabeth remembered.
She went directly to the closet in the adjoining room and found a towel.
It was obviously a long time since it had been laundered, for it smelled quite musky indeed; but it was, nevertheless, dry, which was what they needed beyond all else.
The first thing she did was put the towel to her head to wipe the dripping water from her face; she put a blanket around her shoulders to warm herself a little.
Mr Darcy was gazing at her from the door.
“Mr Darcy, please come in and take one of these towels. You are wet.”
“Thank you, Miss Bennet; I appreciate your concern. It will be very useful indeed.”
He took one of the towels. “In the meantime, I shall try to set the fire.”
“Set the fire? By yourself, sir?” Elizabeth’s voice was full of irony.