Elizabeth & Darcy’s Happy Meeting

Hello everyone! I found this old vignette while digging through my files recently. I posted it online years ago. I can’t remember when, but I have a vague recollection of wanting something easy and happy. I’ve cleaned it up a bit, but I warn you, I did then things I never would now, namely head-hopping between characters. Since it is a short story and the hopping only happens between Elizabeth and Darcy, I hope it won’t be too distracting, and you will enjoy the story.

Elizabeth Bennet entered the elevator, turned to press the button to the floor she wanted, and stood waiting for the doors to close. Just as they started to slide towards each other, she heard a male voice calling, “Wait! Hold the elevator!”

Reacting quickly, Elizabeth stuck her finger onto the appropriate button and the doors quickly parted again. Breathing quickly, a tall, dark-haired man leapt into the elevator car, pressed a button for a floor several higher than the one Elizabeth had selected, and proceeded to stare at the screen of his iPhone.

Elizabeth peeked at the man out of the corner of her eye. He was tall; she had ascertained that the moment he jumped into the elevator. He was also handsome. His hair was just slightly wavy and a little bit messy. He had a straight nose and a strong jaw, and, well, the rest of him looked quite nice too. He was wearing a grey suit that looked expensive and had a laptop case slung over his shoulder. She judged he was early to mid-30s. She couldn’t help but notice that there was no ring on his left hand. It was the one closest to her and the one holding up his phone, so it wasn’t as though she had actively sought out this bit of information. Whatever he was reading on his phone was obviously engrossing because he was certainly doing a marvellous job ignoring her presence and the fact she had rendered him a service.

She glanced up and saw that they had just past the tenth floor. “You’re welcome,” she said.

The sound made the man, whose name was William Darcy, turn to his companion. She stood, staring at the spot over the doors, tracking their progress. For a second he wasn’t even sure she had spoken. He looked at her for the first time and had to admit he was favourably impressed. How had he managed to miss the fact that he was sharing the elevator with a beautiful woman? She was of average height, or a little taller, with lovely, wavy chestnut brown hair falling to just past her shoulders. Her eyebrows were ever so slightly arched—which he took as evidence that she had indeed spoken—and a tiny upturn graced the corner of her mouth. Her skin looked soft and warm and the navy blue skirt and jacket suit she wore made her look both professional and alluring. She held a brown briefcase in front of her, both hands on its handle.

He felt the elevator slow and stop. The doors started to open and the unknown woman prepared herself to step off. Still he said nothing, though his eyes remained fixed on her as she walked away and the doors slid shut again.

***

An hour or so later, Elizabeth was trying to find her way to room 1813. She held a stack of papers in her arms and was in a state of nervous anticipation. She had greatly looked forward to meeting with this particular publisher. Now, she was due to meet with the owner of Pemberley House. Unfortunately, she had forgotten his name, but it would come to her, sooner or later. It wasn’t meeting him that was exciting, per se, but rather the thought that Pemberley House, whose reputation in the publishing world was legendary, was interested in her novel. The company was known to treat its authors well, which was an important consideration, as was the fact that Pemberley House was known for its social and environmental work. It used innovative publishing processes to reduce their environmental impact, and they were active supporters of literacy programmes, especially targeting communities and countries that were most in need. Even if she couldn’t remember the owner’s name—It is something with a D, I think—she was very favourably impressed with them already.

She was nearing a corner and trying to decide if she should turn right or left when a hard, large object knocked into her, making her papers fly to the floor and almost causing her to fall on her bottom. As it was, she stumbled until she hit the wall and was able to use one hand to steady herself.

“For crying—” said a stern, deep voice. His attention was pulled away from the screen of his mobile, and he saw the mess of papers on the ground before turning to see what had hit him.

“Wha..?” Elizabeth’s eyes flew to her papers, now scattered on the ground, then to the man who had run into her.

Elizabeth and William stared at each other in silence for a long moment, both waiting for the other to apologise.

“Ow,” Elizabeth finally said when it was apparent the man was not going to say anything.

“Are you hurt?” It is her.

“Not particularly, but I thought one of us should say something.” Elizabeth began to pick up her papers.

William helped her, absently collecting papers as he focused his attention on the woman from the elevator. Her eyes were a lovely deep shade of blue, and, when they caught his, he inhaled deeply as if suddenly hit in the chest by a very solid basketball that had been tossed directly at him by a professional player.

Handsome as the man was, Elizabeth would have liked him better if he had apologised for colliding with her.

“I didn’t see you,” he said.

“Hard to, if you’re always staring at a screen.” Elizabeth’s eyes indicating the iPhone that was still cradled in his hand.

“Oh, yes.” His cheeks coloured. “My sister,” he explained. “She’s happy. I’m…happy.” His voice trailed off as he stared at her. After a moment, he shoved his phone into his jacket pocket, picked up the last of her papers, and handed them to her as they both stood.

“Do you ever say ‘thank you’ or ‘sorry’ or any of those other niceties?” Elizabeth asked.

William might have been offended, but her eyes were laughing, and it was obvious she was trying not to smile.

He felt his cheeks heat further, and quickly said. “Thank you for holding the elevator, and I’m sorry I crashed into you.” He stopped and then quickly added, “Are you sure I caused the crash? What were you doing?” Maybe he wasn’t entirely to blame. For some reason it was important to him that she didn’t think he was a rude idiot, barrelling down corridors, and running into people.

“I was trying to find a meeting room.”

Before she could ask if he knew which way it was to room 1813, he said, “Meeting? I’m going to be late!” He brushed past her and resumed his quick trek down the corridor.

Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow and sighed. She resumed her search for her meeting room, and found it a minute later. An administrative assistant greeted her and offered to get her a beverage.

“Mr Darcy will be along soon,” he added.

Darcy. Now I remember. Elizabeth thought. I still can’t believe the owner wants to meet me! 

The admin brought her a cup of coffee, and Elizabeth sat and sipped it as she waited for Mr Darcy. She was quite proud of herself. Her first novel had received a lot of interest, and she couldn’t help but be gratified. It had been a labour of love from start to finish.

The door opened, and she turned to stand and welcome, Mr Darcy. As he was the owner of a large publishing house, she assumed he was at least in his fifties. To her amazement, it was the man from the elevator and the corridor.

He cannot be William Darcy.

To William’s amazement, the woman from the elevator and the corridor was sitting in the room in which he expected to meet E.A. Bennet, the author of the most brilliant debut novel he had ever read. The influences were obviously a delicious combination of Gaskell and Austen, with just a hint of Dickensian social commentary thrown in, but set in a modern era. The protagonists were flawed but lovable, and so beautifully drawn that he was certain readers would fall in love with both of them. He could visualise the rave reviews and the bidding war for the movie rights.

All of that was fantastic, but it wasn’t why he wanted the book for Pemberley House. What he was really excited about was being able to nurture the talent this author clearly possessed, to allow her the time to fully develop her craft. He wasn’t sure what he had expected to find, but he assumed, based on the maturity of the writing, that E.A. Bennet was at least in her forties. He had been anticipating meeting her since the moment he had read the first three chapters of her book.

She cannot be E.A. Bennet.

“I…I’m sorry,” William said. He stepped back, looked at the room number, and confirmed that he was in the right room. Again, he stared at her. He was beginning to think the Fates were tossing her in his path.

“Hello again,” she said. She looked past his deliciously broad shoulders to see if Mr Darcy was coming. Their meeting was supposed to start five minutes ago. She wasn’t at all averse to this man’s company while she waited though. Perhaps we might even exchange names this time.

“Uh…” William said continuing to gape at her. “Who are you?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Listen, I’m supposed to be in a meeting, and, clearly, there has been some sort of mix up. We keep bumping into each other, and I’d really like to know your name.”

“Elizabeth,” she said.

He repeated it softly.

“I’m waiting for someone too. I was told to come to 1813.” She looked behind him again. If she weren’t so anxious to meet Mr Darcy, she wouldn’t mind a few minutes in this man’s company, if only to look at his handsome face.

“Oh, Mr Darcy, you’ve found her.” The voice belonged to the administrative assistant. “Great! Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“Darcy?” Elizabeth’s eyes flew to her companion.

“Found her?” William looked between the admin and Elizabeth.

The administrative assistant—Elizabeth really needed to learn his name— nodded. “Shall I get you coffee, or maybe tea?”

With his eyes fixed on Elizabeth, William replied, “No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“All right then. I’ll leave you to it!” He walked away, humming a happy tune.

“You’re…?” William said, while Elizabeth said, “You can’t be…?”

Deciding it was time to clear up any misunderstandings, he said, “I’m William Darcy.” If she was E.A. Bennet, well, that would be very…interesting. If she wasn’t, he had to find E.A. Bennet before she became upset by the delay. Before he could do that, he wanted to know who this woman was, and when he would have the privilege of bumping into her again.

“I’m Elizabeth Bennet,” she said.

They stood and stared at each other again. It was a very odd feeling, they both happened to think at the same time. They didn’t know each other, per se, but they felt like they did. They had formed favourable impressions of each other beforehand, and the physical attraction they now felt was…wonderful.

“You’re too young to be E.A. Bennet,” William said, then wanted to kick himself for stupidly.

“And you’re too young to be William Darcy, owner of Pemberley House,” Elizabeth countered, adding a laugh.

“I inherited young.”

“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth assumed he had done so because someone close to him had died. “I started writing young.”

“Wow,” he said after a pause during which their eyes remained fixed on each other.

“Wow,” Elizabeth agreed.

A noise down the corridor startled them out of their stare. They both cleared their throats. Elizabeth turned her attention to the table in front of her, fiddling with the pen she had waiting to write down comments or questions she might have.

“Thank you for your interest in my novel,” Elizabeth said trying to sound professionally aloof. She was struggling with her reaction to this man, which seemed to become stronger the longer she was in his presence. She didn’t want to talk about her book for once; she wanted to flirt with him, to learn about him. As much as she had been drawn by the allure of Pemberley House and the possibility of it being her publisher, she had been resolved to consider what was best for her. Now… Well, she had never reacted this way to meeting any man before.

“Of-of course,” he said trying to match her tone. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, uh, well, I mean, with my company.” He had lost a great deal of interest in the business aspect of the meeting. William had entered the building this morning with one goal and one goal only in mind: secure E.A. Bennet as a Pemberley House author. He rather thought he was working on a different goal at the moment. He was not used to reacting in such a manner to a woman, and never had before. He found her attractive, certainly, and once he had realised that she was E.A. Bennet, that she had penned those magnificent words and phrases, had crafted the characters and detailed the settings, he was smitten.

There was an obvious remedy to their discomfort: talk business. It would buy them time to decide what to do about that other minor matter—being bowled over by meeting the person who, you know deep in your gut, will become the most important part of your life.

So, they talked about her book. William told her what he, as a publisher, liked about it and what Pemberley House could do for her as a new author who showed so much promise. Elizabeth told him the story of her novel—how and why the book had come into existence—and the new story she was developing.

Far, far too soon their allotted meeting time was up.

“So, um, that is about…it,” William said. He had made his pitch and learned a few very interesting things about Elizabeth and her novel in return.

They stood, once again staring at each other.

“Yes.” Elizabeth wasn’t sure what else to say.

In a rush, William added, “I thought, uh, you might think about what I said, then you might have some questions or concerns I could address. Perhaps over dinner.”

“Dinner?” Oh, how she wanted to believe he was asking her to dinner and not simply trying to make a business deal with her.

“You might need more convincing that Pemberley House is right for you,” he said, starting to feel a little more confident. The look of restrained anticipation on her face was invigorating. A small smile started to creep onto his face, matched by one on hers.

“Convincing?” she asked.

“Yes. I rather hoped you might require some…convincing. I could take you to dinner. To…convince you. Perhaps several dinners, if that is what it takes.”

Elizabeth smiled at him, and he smiled back at her.

“Unless you don’t think business and pleasure mix,” he added when a horrible thought struck him. What if she had some rule about not dating people she worked with? “In which case, I’d like to rescind my offer on behalf of Pemberley House and ask you to go out with me.”

“You’re assuming I don’t have someone waiting at home for me,” she said.

“No wedding ring. I’m prepared to do battle with anyone who might think they are the right man for you.”

Elizabeth broke out into a wide grin. “That won’t be necessary. Am I to assume there is no one…”

“No,” he said quickly. “Absolutely not. I’m completely…free.”

“So am I,” she said.

“Tonight?”

“Tonight.”

***

Dinner that night lasted a very long time. Elizabeth and William discovered there was quite a bit to talk about when you were trying to get to know someone you already knew well enough to know you were going to spend the rest of your life with them, yet didn’t know much about them that was of practical use.

A second dinner followed the next night, and a third two days after it, since Elizabeth had a family event she could not miss. A week after first meeting,  the couple had agreed on two things: Elizabeth would sign with Pemberley House, and they were madly in love. The fact that they had not yet said it or even kissed was irrelevant. They both knew it and knew that the other knew it as well.

“Do you think,” William said as they sat side by side on the sofa in his office, “people will talk once they realise we are not only business associates, but also…personally involved?” The contract between E.A. Bennet and Pemberley House lay on the table in front of them.

“I suppose they will,” Elizabeth said. She had not considered it at all. She also didn’t particularly care. “Does that bother you?”

“Well, there is the possibility people will question why exactly I decided to sign you. You are a new author and all of that. Unknown.” His tone made Elizabeth think he was plotting something rather than stating a serious concern.

Elizabeth smiled mischievously. “Do you mean they may think I used some sort of trick to get you to sign me? Used my feminine wiles, as it were?”

“Yes. So, I thought…”

“Yes?”

“Well, it might be unseemly for the company’s newest author to be seen dating the company’s president, don’t you think?” He looked at her quirking one eyebrow.

“Hmm, you’re right,” she said, matching his not really serious-serious look. “Perhaps we should reconsider this. I should go back and look at those other offers, don’t you think?”

“No,” he said firmly. “There is a better way out of our dilemma.”

“Oh? Do tell.”

“Marry me,” he said, this time very serious. “No one could possibly think there was anything awry with me helping my wife’s career along, could they?”

They looked deeply into each other’s eyes, and Elizabeth slowly began to smile. Really those people that wanted to gossip about them would, regardless of their marital status, but who was she to argue with such a plan?

“If you think it is best,” she said teasingly coy. “After all, you are the business expert.”

William’s face broke out into an enormous smile.

“But,” she said, “before this deal is concluded, I have one demand.”

“Yes?”

“Kiss me,” she whispered.

How could he possibly refuse? He kissed her for a very long time.

Afterwards he rushed her off to the Caribbean for a lovely, romantic elopement and a steamy honeymoon. Their families were initially shocked, but, once they got to know their loved one’s significant other, they were universally pleased for the couple. Elizabeth’s book met with great success, as did her future novels. Pemberley House remained a forward-thinking, successful company, and William continued to garner accolades for his business sense. Their public successes were overshadowed, in their minds at least, by their personal ones. They lived a long, happy life together, eventually sharing it with two little ones who grew into big ones and provided them with other little ones to dote on. Elizabeth and William fulfilled the promise they made to each other on their wedding day and grew old together. William never forgot to say please, thank you, sorry, or any other such nicety, and, in return, Elizabeth always held elevator—and other—doors open for him and led him safely along corridors when he was reading emails on his mobile.

Finis

There you have it. It’s a bit silly, but an easy path for our dear couple now and again is fun to write.

© Lucy Marin 2021