Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

but eavesdrop on the young man’s enthusiastic, if premature, exclamation of joy. The overheard words proved too much for heartbroken Fitzwilliam Darcy; he quickly choked out his excuses, bowed, and made haste for the door. No one heard Miss Elizabeth’s next words except John Dun.

Lizzy was momentarily distracted by the sounds of long, hurried strides along the hallway, the startling slam of the front door, and a carriage quickly pulling away. Mr. Darcy, no! As she was about to speak, another footfall was heard; and the door to the street had scarcely shut, when more footsteps meant the third visitor was also exiting. She turned back to the final young man; and she knew, although he was certainly not the last man in the world whom she could ever be prevailed on to marry, he was not the first and only such man.

“Sir, you are too hasty. You forget I have made no answer. Let me do so without further loss of time. Please accept my thanks, for I am sensible of the great honour of your proposal; but it is impossible for me to do otherwise than decline.”

Lieutenant-Colonel Dun lost colour, released her hands, and staggered backward. “You are … refusing me?”

Lizzy sat down and spoke very softly. “I am truly sorry, sir. It would not at all be proper or fair for me to enter into a marriage with you under the circumstances.”

“Do these circumstances involve another man?”

The young lady turned crimson, looked down at her lap, and refused to answer.

“I have my answer, then. Blast it! Pardon me, Miss Elizabeth. I am afraid I must take my leave. I would not be very good company right now. Please extend my apologies to your family and friends for my sudden departure.” He curtly bowed, donned his hat, and strode toward the open door.

“John, please wait.”

The young officer was startled and halted by the use of his name, and he turned back to face the woman who had wounded his pride. The fact his heart was neither engaged nor broken did not occur to him.

Elizabeth Bennet stood and looked at him with tear-filled eyes. Her voice trembled as she spoke. “Sir, please, stay just a moment longer. I do not wish to part from you in this manner. We have been friends for too long to allow this awkwardness to come between us. I beseech you to understand I did not intend to hurt you. Nevertheless, only the deepest love could persuade me to enter into matrimony. I do care for you and hope you are still somewhat fond of me. Despite that, I know we do not truly love one another.”

“Miss Elizabeth … Elizabeth … of course, I am, indeed, very fond of you. So I hope you will, someday soon, find the perfect love you are seeking.” Dun was unaware the other gentlemen callers had departed; and so he said, “Perhaps you do not even have very far to look. I begrudgingly suggest you begin your search in the music room.” He gave her a slight smile and a bow. “Good day, my dear friend.”

Had Charles Bingley not postponed his long-overdue talk with his sister, he might have prevented Caroline from experiencing the most mortifying and cataclysmic moment of her life. He fully intended to have the important discussion with her but spent far too much time trying to find the most non-confrontational way of broaching such an unpleasant subject with his rather volatile sibling. He had already removed any breakable objects from the room in case she decided to throw a tantrum. Bingley sat in his study and studied the blotter on his otherwise empty desk. Not finding inspiration there, he stood and stretched, straightened his spine, and rang for a servant. “Fossett, please have my sister immediately summoned here. Quickly, man!”

Bingley wanted to have done with the disagreeable task so he could get on with the important business of ... Well, as a gentleman of leisure, he really did not have any important business with which to get on; but he still wanted to have done with such an unpleasant episode. Then, perhaps, I shall … hmm … pay a visit to … the … Bennet family. Yes, that is it. I will pay another visit to Miss Bennet and her family and reserve sets for the ball.

After several minutes, the servant returned to report Miss Bingley had left half an hour ago to spend the afternoon shopping. Bingley was secretly relieved and champing at the bit to go visiting. “Too bad. Well, I might as well go out myself, then. But please tell Caroline it is imperative I speak with her when we both return this evening.”

It seemed to be quite the thing that particular day for young ladies to be seduced by the lure of London’s fine shops, because Bingley was informed Miss Bennet, Miss Elizabeth, and Miss Lucas had departed an hour ago to do just that. The young man was then at a loose end and ordered his driver to take him to one of the clubs in which he held membership. When the coachman looked askance at him, Bingley testily said, “I am apparently in no mood to make wise decisions today, so you shall decide for me. Quickly man! Where shall I spend my afternoon?”

Ellis Fleming encountered the same situation when he called at Darcy House to pay court to Miss Darcy. Georgiana had accompanied her mother, sister, and aunt on a shopping expedition to purchase some last-minute feminine frippery for the ball. Fleming then ordered his carriage driver to take him to Whites, where, to his astonishment, he found his friend, Fitzwilliam Darcy, uncharacteristically quite in his cups.

“Flemin’, what are you doin’ here, man? Why are you not payin’ court to my shishter … sishter … shi … Georgiana? You should not washte a minute, you know; or shome bracket-faced, bottle-headed braggart might shteeeal her away. Whoosh! Jusht like that.” Darcy flung out his arm and knocked over his empty glass.

“Good God, Darcy. What are you doing here alone, dipping rather deeply? I have not seen you on the cut since Cambridge. What troubles you, my friend?” Fleming took a seat next to Darcy and shooed away a servant about to fill another glass.

“Did you not hear me jusht now? Go find my shish … Georgiana, and do not allow her to be shwept away by shome shmilin’, shwaggerin’ shwine of a shoulder … sholdjer … shol … ”

“Darce, are you trying to say some smiling, swaggering swine of a soldier has been sniffing around your sister?”

“Mosht certainly not! I would never shtand for it. I am merely shpeakin’ hypo … hypo … er, … theo - ret - ic - a - lly.”

“And you are doing a very poor job of speaking thusly, my friend. Plus I rather doubt whether you are able to stand at all. Let us get your intoxicated self home, shall we?”

“No. I wanna go shee Missh Libazith.”

“I beg your pardon? You want to go do what?”

“Not what, who. Whom? What wash the queshtion?”

“Darce, why are you in such a state?”

“Brraaandy.”

“Who?”

“Not who, Flemin’, what. Braaandy is a what, not a who. Well, I shupposhe Braaandy could be a who, but … ”

“Darcy, why have you been drinking?”

“Missh Bizzy Lennet … Missh Libbaziff … Lizzabiff … LisshyBit ... DeeeelisheyBit … ” Ellis Fleming rolled his eyes, took his friend by the arm, and discreetly escorted him out of the club and into his waiting carriage. The fresh air revived Darcy somewhat. He took a deep, cleansing breath and exhaled stale brandy. “Flemin’, you are an intelligent bloke. What, exactly, ish a hanson barberin?”

“Darcy, you are usually quite an articulate fellow. Nonetheless, when you are tap-hackled, your speech becomes rather unintelligible. What, in blazing hell, do you mean by ‘hanson barberin’? Can you use it in the context of a sentence?”

“Shhhure. Um. Ah, yesh. Mr. Darshy, are you sho-and-sho’s hanson barberin?”

Ellis knit his brows and shrugged. “Well, I suppose the first part could be the name Hanson; and the other obviously means barbering. What else could it be? So in your example, perhaps the person is asking whether you are somebody’s barber by the name of Hanson. But I would certainly not trust you to braaandish a razor just now.”

“Extraordinarily shtrange. I am shure my name wash mentioned during the introduction to the poppet. Cute ash a button, he wash. Bizzylith and I could have had adorable shildren together.”

“Now whatever are you going on about, Darcy?”

“The delightful wee tot.”

“Darcy, my friend, as delightful as the brandy might have been, I wager you drank much more alcohol today