Truth about Mr. Darcy

Darcy rolled his eyes.

“Well, I daresay we shall go without you, then,” Lydia insisted. “Just because you do not wish to go, it shall not keep us from going by ourselves. What fun we shall have!” This declaration was seconded immediately by Kitty.

“Miss Lydia,” said Bingley, “I see no reason why we should not continue on to Meryton together.” He fixed Darcy with a significant look before he turned to Mr. Collins. “Gentleman, what say you to this? Would it not give you great pleasure to accompany these lovely ladies into Meryton on such a fine day? It would be unpardonable for us to allow them to continue on without our solicitous escort.”

Here, Mr. Collins proceeded to simper and smirk about the delicate constitution of elegant females, while Darcy, who looked as though he would rather ride his horse backward to London while blindfolded, managed to mutter that he could think of nothing else he would rather do than shop for ribbons in Meryton.

Hence, they continued on—Kitty and Lydia running ahead, followed more sedately by Jane and Bingley, Darcy and Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins, who, with a nauseating show of condescension, proclaimed himself to be at the particular disposal of his fair cousin Elizabeth.

There were enough officers swaggering about the streets of Meryton in their regimentals to sufficiently distract Kitty and Lydia from their purpose, and Bingley did an admirable job of corralling the younger Miss Bennets away from mischief and off toward the milliner’s shoppe. Inside, the ladies separated from the gentlemen to admire ribbons and bonnets, and to talk of gowns and gloves. Before long, Bingley moved to take his place at Jane’s side as she stood holding two spools of silk ribbon in apparent indecision.

Left only with Mr. Collins for company, Darcy quietly slipped outside to wait for the ladies. To endure that insipid man’s addresses while watching him fawn over Elizabeth in such a fashion was insupportable. The morning was, in every way, a punishment to him. He could not believe he had voluntarily placed himself at the disposal of Lydia Bennet. What in God’s name is becoming of me? he demanded of himself in irritation.

It was then that he glimpsed Elizabeth through the shoppe window, and his breath caught in his throat. She was a vision of loveliness as she ran her fingers along a length of velvet ribbon the color of sunlight. She was so graceful and unassuming in her movements that he became completely entranced. He longed to discover how it would feel to have those fingers caress him with such exquisite tenderness. Unconsciously, Darcy raised one hand so it rested against the glass as his eyes continued to drink in her beauty. At that moment, he wanted desperately to open his heart to her, to take her in his arms—and to his bed—and never let her go.

A cold, mocking voice invaded his wistful thoughts. “Shopping, Darcy?”

He spun around to see George Wickham’s insincere gaze leering in a most offensive manner at Elizabeth. Not trusting himself to speak, he fixed Wickham with a glare of pure loathing. Wickham was unperturbed. “I daresay Georgiana would enjoy having her for a sister, but who among us would not enjoy having her?” Wickham turned his eyes upon Darcy. “Come now, Darcy. Such coldness. Is this any way to greet an old friend?”

“You dare to call yourself my friend, Wickham?” he spat in a dangerous voice.

Wickham laughed derisively. “Perhaps I was presumptuous. Old habits die hard, you know. Speaking of which, you were absent last evening from the Phillips’s. I was rather expecting to see you there, but I suppose the society in Hertfordshire does not agree with you, save for that of one.”

Darcy’s jaw set in a hard line as he struggled to contain his anger. A malicious smile flickered across Wickham’s mouth, and their eyes locked in challenge. Wickham lowered his voice. “I had the good fortune of finding Miss Elizabeth Bennet without a proper escort and looking absolutely fetching. We had a very satisfying conversation, she and I, though I must confess I could not see any indication she returns your regard. But I suppose that is an inconsequential matter.”

Wickham turned his gaze back to Elizabeth. “All that beauty before you—all that temptation—and none of it waiting for you. Tell me, Darcy, how can you stand it? Her lush body, her coy smiles. It must drive you positively mad to be so denied… you, who have never been denied anything.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “Don’t you just long for once to damn propriety and take her? I daresay many men of far less consequence would be more than willing to pay a very heavy price to lay claim to such an exceptional creature, and indeed, I have no doubt Miss Elizabeth Bennet would make any man a most spirited conquest.”

He had finally gone too far, and before Wickham even saw it coming, Darcy had driven his fist into his sneering mouth with such force that Wickham was brought to his knees. Darcy was upon him again in the next heartbeat, closing his hands around Wickham’s throat and dragging him to his feet. Bingley, accompanied by Jane, Elizabeth, and Mr. Collins, emerged from the shoppe just as Darcy slammed Wickham against the side of the building, his hands squeezing the breath from Wickham’s body.

Darcy spoke through gritted teeth, his tone venomous. “You will not touch her! You will not look at her! You will not think of her! And you will never, ever insult her in my presence again as long as you live, or so help me God, Wickham, I will hunt you down like the animal you are and run you through! Do. I. Make. Myself. Clear?”

“Darcy!” Bingley yelled. “Good God, man! You will kill him! Darcy!” He tried to tear his friend from Wickham, but Darcy was beyond reason, rendering Bingley’s battle utterly in vain. It was not until Elizabeth laid her hands upon his arm and began begging most fervently for Wickham’s release that Bingley was able to successfully pry Darcy’s shaking hands from Wickham’s neck and drag him away. Wickham collapsed to the ground, massaging his throat as he gasped for air.

The magnitude of the situation suddenly hit Darcy with full force, and it was sobering. His breathing was as ragged as Wickham’s, and in his heart he harbored not a single doubt he surely would have killed Wickham had Elizabeth and Bingley not stopped him when they had. Elizabeth! His lips formed the syllables of her name. What evil demon had taken possession of his senses to incite such behavior at the slightest provocation? No, Darcy recalled, there was nothing slight about it!

His eyes searched frantically for Elizabeth. She was staring at him, clearly horrified by his loss of control… and she was trembling. Darcy’s eyes felt suddenly full, and he ran shaking hands over his face in shame. He did not trust himself to speak or even to look at her. He could not bear to be near her while she looked at him in such a way. Without a word, he turned away and began walking quickly toward Netherfield Park.

*   *   *

Elizabeth had watched, paralyzed with horror, while Bingley tore Darcy’s hands from Wickham’s flailing form. Her ears had caught every word Darcy uttered in his rage, just as her eyes had registered every tortured expression that contorted his features into something monstrous.

Why? she demanded in shocked desperation as she leaned against the wall for support, fighting back hot tears. The words Darcy had spoken as he blindly choked Wickham to within an inch of his life resounded in her mind. Would some vulgar insult leveled at me by Mr. Wickham have moved him to commit such a disturbing assault? He, who has looked at me before only to find fault? It was inconceivable to her, but then Elizabeth recalled the shock and pain etched on his face as he turned away from her, and the fire and warmth that had appeared in his eyes earlier at breakfast, and she gasped, wondering again and again, Could Jane be correct? Could Mr. Darcy actually care for me?

With concern, Bingley watched Darcy leave. He had an excellent notion as to his friend’s feelings at the moment, and he was worried. In any other situation, he would have gone after him without a second thought, but now… Bingley looked from Jane to Elizabeth to Wickham, only to realize Darcy had left him in a most distasteful predicament. To make matters worse, a crowd had gathered in eager anticipation of gleaning enough information to kindle idle talk into a roaring blaze of scandalous gossip.

Though Wickham appeared no worse for wear, Lydia and Kitty exclaimed and fussed over him as though he were a hero wounded in battle by Napoleon himself. Bingley cursed softly under his breath in exasperation, quickly moving to support Jane as she swayed dangerously. Elizabeth, in contrast, stood as still as a statue, staring after Darcy. Tears spilled down her cheeks while Mr. Collins prowled around her like a caged beast, ranting about the mortification to be suffered by his noble patroness should the report of her nephew’s behavior ever reach Rosings. It was insufferable.

Wickham pulled himself to his feet, to the voiced relief of Kitty and Lydia, and proceeded to dust off his