Mr. Darcy Takes the Plunge

“There is nothing the matter. He did ask me to stand up with him for the next set, though.”

“Who did?”

“Good grief, my friend. Since you became engaged, you have also become somewhat addlepated. We were speaking of my looking for Lorne, remember?”

“Yes, and I am concerned you feel forlorn.”

“Georgiana, I do not feel for Lorne. I hardly know the man. You know very well my regard is only for your brother; and, Mr. Fleming, just what do you find so amusing, sir?”

Mr. Bernard Lorne did not turn up for the second last set, which was just as well, because Elizabeth Bennet needed to find some privacy. She searched for her sister and saw Jane in conversation with Lady Anne, Anne de Bourgh, and Anna. If Mr. Darcy and I ever marry and have children, I shall definitely refuse to christen any daughter of ours ‘Ann.’ Enough already. She made her way over to the ladies, curtsied, excused herself for interrupting, and asked Jane to accompany her.

“Jane, I need to find some privacy, or I shall simply have to tie my garter in public.”

“Elizabeth Bennet, you would not dare do something so extremely shocking and improper.”

“Well, most certainly not. But look.” She lifted her skirt a few inches so Jane could see the stocking and broken ribbon pooled around her ankle. “I am forlorn, but not for Lorne, and not engaged for this blasted set after all. However, it is unthinkable I might have to sit out the next set and a chance to waltz with Fitzwilliam ‘handsome barbarian’ Darcy. Please come with me and stand guard while I fix this blasted hosiery. Did you happen to bring any extra ribbon?”

“Yes, in my … Oh, no! Where is my reticule? I must have left it on the chair during supper. Lizzy, ask one of the footmen for directions to the library, as there should be no one there during a ball. I am just going to fetch my bag and shall be right behind you. Oh, and Elizabeth Frances Bennet, do not say the word ‘blasted’; it is terribly unladylike of you. Now go! I must make haste to find my blasted reticule. I do not want to miss a chance to waltz with another handsome barbarian named Fitzwilliam.” The pert, saucy smile so often associated with her younger sister was, in this instance, instead displayed on Jane’s normally angelic face.

With a servant’s assistance, Elizabeth quickly found the door to the library. She quietly opened it a crack, peered inside, and promptly pulled it shut while she questioned both her sanity and her eyesight. Good God. Was that … ? No. She scoffed at herself. I could not possibly have seen the scene I thought I did. Perhaps I need a pair of spectacles. The intrepid Lizzy Bennet again eased the door ajar, took another peek, and was stupefied by the spectacle of the pair in front of her. None other than the very proper Fitzwilliam Darcy was, indeed, holding Charles Bingley in an embrace. There was no mistake. Her handsome barbarian’s right arm encircled the other good-looking hooligan, and Mr. Darcy’s hand rested on the back of Mr. Bingley’s waist. Remain calm, Lizzy old girl. Remember the sayings of Publilius Syrus: ‘The eyes are not responsible when the mind does the seeing’ and ‘A suspicious mind always looks on the black side of things’. Surely Mr. Bingley can logically explain the black side of things my suspicious mind sees, and then Mr. Darcy and I shall put this behind us and move forward.

“ … and now move your left foot gracefully forward. No, Darce, your other left foot!”

Colonel Fitzwilliam became tired of humming the waltz tune and stopped to take a breather. In the silence, a feminine gasp was heard from the direction of the door; the three gentlemen froze in position.

Darcy: Good God. Was that … ? No. I could not possibly have heard what I think I just heard. Fate would not be so unkind. Would it? He slowly turned around.

Bingley: Fiend seize it! To hell with this! I am out of here! Sorry, Darce. He quickly headed for the door.

Fitz: I would probably relish this as a comical dill-emma was I not involved in the same pickle. With a sour expression on his face, he fumbled in his pocket for the key to the library and followed his friend.

Bingley’s face was flaming as he curtly bowed to Miss Elizabeth and mumbled what might have been an apology. Elizabeth stepped aside to allow him to pass and was surprised to see Colonel Fitzwilliam hard on his heels. The officer also bowed abruptly and muttered something unintelligible as Lizzy moved farther into the library.

The unmistakable sound of a key being turned in the lock from the outside caused her to reach for the doorknob. Elizabeth’s frantic assault on the immovable object proved futile, and she said a silent prayer. Good Lord! I cannot possibly remain in this room with only Mr. Darcy, although I would certainly like to hear his explanation ... and perhaps a declaration of his intentions. Lizzy turned to face the other occupant and hoped this turn of events might turn out to be a turning point in her life. With her back pressed against the door, she watched the gentleman turn in her direction.

In the hallway, on the other side of the same portal, the red-coated officer had second thoughts about locking the lady in the library. On the one hand, he wanted to do a good turn for Darcy; on the other, he knew he should allow Miss Elizabeth a chance to escape from the room, his cousin, and her fate. His loyalty to family, he decided after a moment’s hesitation, was the key point in favour of Darcy. Colonel Fitzwilliam was no turncoat. He turned away and quickly strode down the corridor.

Jane Bennet was surprised to pass Mr. Bingley in the hallway without any sort of acknowledgement from the gentleman. He was alarmingly coloured up and in an obvious state of mortification. Well, that is very peculiar! Oh, dear, I hope it is nothing serious. As Jane neared the library, she turned her head to watch the poor chap hurry toward the ballroom. When she turned back … OOF! She found herself up against a solid, crimson-coated chest, encased in a pair of red-sleeved arms of steel, and surrounded by a very alluring masculine scent. Jane was breathless, not due to the impact, but because the chest, arms, and scent belonged to the body of none other than her handsome barbarian, Colonel Richard ‘Stud-Muffin’ Fitzwilliam.

The good-looking army officer considered himself one very lucky man, indeed. He had helped his cousin with two dilemmas, was not the one discovered in Darcy’s embrace, and was now the one embracing the incredibly gorgeous Jane Bennet.

“Miss Bennet, I am most dreadfully sorry. Are you well? I have not injured you, have I?”

Truthfully, Fitz was not dreadfully sorry at all and had not released his clutch.

They were so close she could feel his deep, resonant voice rumble within her. Jane glanced up into captivating hazel eyes that darkened as he gazed back.

She breathlessly whispered, “The fault is all mine, sir. I believe my head was turned. I am not at all injured and should probably go to my sister now. She is in the library, is she not?” Truthfully, she did not wish to be released from his emboldening embrace.

“Yes, but perhaps it would be prudent not to disturb Miss Elizabeth and Darcy just yet. I believe my cousin has a very important matter to discuss with your sister.”

He smiled down at her, and Jane nearly swooned. I do feel a bit weak; so perhaps remaining in his strong, protective arms just a little longer can be justifiably … justified.

Why does it feel like the most beautiful woman in the world is in my arms? “Jane, why does it feel like the most beautiful woman in the world is in my arms?”Good God Almighty, please, please tell me I did not just repeat that inanity aloud.

“You are not allowed to address me in such a familiar manner, sir. You are far too forward. Are you, perchance, a trifle disguised, Colonel?”

“I am not drunk, dear lady, just intoxicated by you.” He winced slightly. Oh God, I am a Colonel of corn! But still he would not release her.

“Gracious! You are oddly audacious.”

“Madam, may I be frank?”

“I would prefer you be yourself, Colonel,” Jane saucily replied. “I was under the impression your name was Richard.”

“Miss Bennet, heed this warning,” he growled. “You are dangerously playing with fire with your teasing and calling me by my first name. You give everyone the impression you are very perfectly demure, yet here you are addressing me in a familiar manner and being rather forward. I know I have been the recipient of your admiring