P&P The Untold Stories: Darcy’s Resolution

Darcy’s Resolution by Susan Mason-Milks

November 23, 1811

Darcy cleared an opening on the desk in the study at Netherfield, marveling at how Bingley could find anything, let alone get work done with papers and correspondence stacked everywhere in such a careless manner. Clutter and disorder always inhibited Darcy’s ability to think clearly. His hope in retreating to the study was to find a few minutes of peace in which to write a letter to Georgiana. Taking quill in hand, he paused, uncertain what he wanted to say. What was foremost in his mind was probably not something his sister should read. Pouring himself some of Bingley’s excellent brandy, he moved to look out the window hoping it would clear his head. As he watched the dark clouds making their way across the sky, his thoughts returned to how nothing had been the same since Miss Elizabeth and her sister had left Netherfield. All conversation bored him, and even the usual pleasures of reading did little to fill the space she left when she departed.

Worst of all, Miss Bingley had sensed something, awakening a primal reaction in her. Like a predator following the scent of its prey, she had begun tracking him around the house. If he went to the library to quietly read, she found that she, too, was in need of a new book. Since she was never sure what to read, she always asked for his suggestions. By the time he helped her chose a book and returned to his own, he had usually forgotten what he had been reading. It made no difference anyway, because she continually interrupted asking a question every few minutes. When her ceaseless chatter became too much to tolerate, he would get up and move to another room. Inevitably, she followed after a few minutes, and thus the cycle repeated. What a contrast to Elizabeth who had once sat in the library with him for more than half an hour without saying a single word!

After a week of her relentless pursuit, Darcy, fortunately, remembered Miss Bingley did not like horses. Since that time, riding had become his favorite occupation. As his friend Bingley was not an early riser, Darcy often went out in the morning alone. The exercise seemed to renew his spirit and help him think more clearly. Usually after an energetic ride, he walked his horse, Hector, slowly along the lanes in the neighborhood. At first, he told himself he was just exploring, when in truth, he had to admit he was secretly hoping to discover where Miss Elizabeth went on her morning walks. Once as he ambled along, he almost crossed paths with her. A noise nearby alerted him just in time to see her coming out of a small wooded area. Quickly turning Hector down a path to his right, he was able to disappear before she saw him.

Darcy generally used the pleasant silence on his rides to recall and analyze every word that had passed between them during Elizabeth’s stay at Netherfield. As he reviewed their interactions, he frequently thought of something he should have said that was far cleverer than his actual response. Other times, he found himself caught up with imagining entirely new conversations. In these scenarios, instead of being tongue-tied, he knew exactly the right thing to say to amuse her. It was all so clear in his mind that it was almost as if he could hear her voice as they engaged in verbal sparring. When Darcy imagined making such a witty comment as to amuse her, he was certain he could hear her laughter. As he closed his eyes to listen to that sweet music, just the thought of her brought warmth to his core, and when that heat began moving downward in his body, he bent over in the saddle and groaned aloud. Cursing, he quickly looked around to see if anyone had heard him, but fortunately no one was nearby. To keep himself from thinking about her, he took an extra long ride that day so that he and Hector were both exhausted by the time they returned to the stables.

At first, Darcy considered these daily imaginary conversations with Elizabeth as harmless amusement. He could talk to her as much as he wished as long as no one knew. He was not harming her reputation or putting himself in danger, but as he became more and more preoccupied with thoughts of her, he began to realize he was playing with fire. It was not right to let this continue, and one day out on a solitary ride, he vowed to banish Elizabeth from his mind forever.

Once back at the house after his ride that morning, Darcy found he was out of sorts and irritated with the world. He was short with Jennings, his valet, over the way his cravat was tied. He complained that the temperature of the water for his bath was too cold and then found something wanting with the polish on his boots. Later, he felt guilty for being so abrupt. Since an outright apology would only embarrass them both, he tried to let Jennings know he was sorry by sending him to Meryton for the afternoon on an errand they both knew to be invented. Darcy thought the man might enjoy getting outside in the lovely fall weather for a change and even gave him some extra coin so he could stop for hot cider along the way.

When he realized trying to banish Elizabeth completely from his mind had only resulted in making him uncivil, he decided he would allow himself the pleasure of thinking about her, but only when he was out riding alone. This strategy worked at first, but soon Darcy found his preoccupation spilling over into other parts of his day. There was no escape. The rooms at Netherfield were alive with memories of her. The drawing room made him recall the mischievous look on her face as they discussed the accomplishments of a lady. In the dining room, he thought about the grace of her slender hand as she reached for her wine glass. Whenever they repaired to the music room, he remembered how his eyes had followed the curve of her shoulder to the hollow at the base of her neck and how he longed to touch that place with his lips. And how could he forget the swell of her…Oh, Lord, what was it about this woman that seemed to drive all rational thought from his head!

Once when he was thus occupied, Miss Bingley had asked him a question. To avoid having to admit he was not attending, he mumbled agreement and much to his displeasure found she had been asking if he would like to join them at cards. He was forced to spend a miserable hour at the table until he could politely extract himself from the game and retreat to his rooms.

When Darcy realized that for some time he had been calling Elizabeth by her first name in his thoughts, he knew he could not let this continue. What if he slipped and actually said it aloud? Leaving Netherfield as soon as possible was his only choice. Unfortunately, there was the upcoming ball to consider. It was a major event for Bingley and would firmly establish his friend’s place in the neighborhood. As Darcy knew he must lend his support, he was forced to stay until after the ball. Upon forming this plan, he rationalized that since he was leaving soon, there was nothing wrong with letting himself continue to think about Elizabeth for just a few more days. After that, he would be safely in London where their paths would most certainly never cross.

As his thoughts returned to the present, the rain slowed, and off in the distance he could see a small patch of blue that promised better weather to come. Just at that moment, he resolved to ask Elizabeth to dance at the ball. He had no idea where this impulse came from, and although he knew he should resist, something inside him cried out for one more opportunity to look into her fine eyes and touch her hand, even if it was only through her glove. Darcy decided he would allow himself to admire her, to drink in her sweet charms just one more time, and then he would be gone. He only hoped that indulging himself in this way would allow him to exorcise her from his mind once and for all.

Brandy finished and his thoughts arranged in a more orderly fashion, he returned to the desk. Picking up the quill, he dashed off a short note to Georgiana informing her of his plans to return to London within the week.

Please note: I am posting this on behalf of Susan Mason-Milks, who wrote this scene for the original P&P 200 project. Lucy Marin

Catch up with all the Untold Stories HERE