Page 17 of Darcy’s Guarded Heart

Elizabeth

E lizabeth found herself quite unable to sleep that evening.

She was uncertain whether it was the discomfort of an unfamiliar bed or the peculiar sensation of Mr Darcy’s gaze upon her throughout the evening, but slumber eluded her.

She tossed back and forth until, at last, she could no longer bear to remain in bed.

Rising, she donned the gown Georgiana Darcy had lent her before making her way down the hall.

She wondered if perhaps the library’s fireplace still burned, so she might find a book to read or perhaps take one back with her should the fire be extinguished.

In any case, she required a distraction.

As she approached the library, she felt relief wash over her upon seeing a familiar yellow light flickering beneath the door.

Perhaps she was fortunate and the fireplace remained lit.

Carefully, she opened the door, not wishing to wake anyone in the vicinity with unnecessary noise.

Upon entering, her anticipation of discovering a good novel heightened when she suddenly heard, “Good evening, Miss Bennet.”

How typically unfortunate, she thought to herself. Of all the individuals she did not wish to encounter, Mr Darcy was seated before her in a wing chair, his legs propped up upon a stool as he read.

“Good evening, Mr Darcy. I did not mean to disturb you. I believed everyone had retired for the night.”

“And you thought right. Everyone has. But I found I could not sleep, thus I came to the library. I take it you had the same notion?”

She nodded. “I did, but I shall not disturb you.”

“You are not disturbing me. Please, help yourself. Mr Morris maintains quite the selection.”

She pursed her lips, pondering whether it would be worth her while to respond, but she could not refrain from retorting, “Mr Morris does not own Netherfield Park. He is merely the agent. Mr Chamberlain is the owner.”

Mr Darcy possessed a vexing penchant for needing to know everything better than anyone else and feeling superior. Thus, for once, when she knew something decidedly more than he, she could not resist the opportunity.

“I see,” he said. “Well, whoever the owner may be, they have quite an eclectic taste in books. There are volumes written in a multitude of languages, of which I cannot even make out half.”

Elizabeth smiled and approached the shelf he had indicated, immediately spotting the books to which he referred.

Some she could discern, French, German, even Russian.

However, there were others she could not decipher.

Picking up a novel—or perhaps it was a prayer book—filled with characters resembling square shapes, she set it aside.

Another bore a similar script but more curved, which too she returned to the shelf.

“I did not know Mr Chamberlain possessed so many books in so many different tongues,” she remarked as she selected another, noting the different alphabet yet again.

“But I do know this one,” she said, recognising it to be Japanese. She turned to Mr Darcy and extended it towards him. “This is Japanese.”

“And how do you know this?” he enquired, his tone genuinely curious rather than supercilious.

“The shape on the front depicts the Japanese islands,” she replied, tracing the outline with her finger.

“Well, it seems you possess a keen eye for geography. It was never my strong suit.”

“Is that so? I must admit, Mr Darcy, I am surprised that you would so readily acknowledge your shortcomings as you have this evening.”

Indeed, it astonished her that he had even confessed to not being particularly skilled in certain areas, particularly after a series of card games. It had been apparent how uncomfortable he became after losing hand after hand.

“I do not perceive it as shortcomings per se, but rather as areas in which I have yet to acquire proficiency,” he replied, placing the book aside.

She craned her neck to ascertain the title and chuckled when she noticed it was a book on card tricks.

“I see,” she said with a grin, “you are ever keen on self-improvement.”

He glanced at the book and then smiled, and Elizabeth had to concede he appeared entirely different when smiling.

“I must confess, I do not relish losing as much as I did, and I am unaccustomed to it,” he said.

“I see. So, you have not sneaked away to avoid playing billiards with Thomas, but rather to perfect your card skills, that you might triumph over them next time.”

His expression grew serious again. “It is true I was fatigued. However, I found that when I attempted to sleep, I could not. Much has been weighing upon my mind.”

“Beyond card games and unforeseen company?”

“Indeed, beyond that. And the company was not unwelcome. My sister is very fond of you and yours,” he said, omitting to mention that Georgiana was also quite taken with Thomas. But perhaps he did not notice.

“Miss Darcy is a complete delight. After you departed, she joined our game along with Miss Bingley. Mr Bingley and my sister vacated their seats as well, leaving me quite alone with Thomas. Were it not for your sister and Miss Bingley, I would not have had a chance to win against Thomas thrice in a row.”

Mr Darcy shifted slightly, and she wondered if he felt uncomfortable with the notion of Thomas participating in the game.

“I see. Well, I am certain my sister will recount all particulars in the morning when we take breakfast.”

“She is a joy to be around,” Elizabeth admitted, stepping closer and resting a hand on the back of the armchair before Mr Darcy.

He nodded once, indicating for her to sit, and she obliged.

Just why she had chosen to remain in the library to converse with him was a mystery; something about him compelled her to stay.

He seemed so serene, so unlike the Darcy she had come to know, that she wished to discover if there indeed lay more to him than met the eye.

“Georgiana has always been a delightful child and is now blossoming into a charming young woman. A trifle too quickly for my liking.”

“That is what my father always says regarding my sisters. Although I daresay my younger sister is far less sophisticated than yours.”

“It must be a difficult situation for him, a father with five daughters.”

“I believe it was more arduous for him when we were all young. When Thomas joined us, at least he had one other gentleman in the house to provide him comfort.”

“Not as much comfort as a son would have, I am sure.”

“Neither my father nor Thomas can help it that a lad is not regarded as a natural born son. Even though he ought to be. My father undoubtedly considers Thomas his son, and so do I consider him my brother, as do my sisters. As for Thomas, he feels the same way about us.”

He paused for a moment, looking down at his hands before raising his gaze to meet hers. “I should thank you for your intervention with Wickham at Lucas Lodge.”

“I did nothing,” she replied. “It was Thomas who was keen to assist.”

He nodded once. “And I shall thank him. He does regard you as family, does he not?” Mr Darcy asked, and Elizabeth pursed her lips, pondering her response.

“He does. He is family. He is my cousin. But more than that, he is like a brother to us, and he would never let any harm befall us. He’d do anything for us.”

Mr Darcy nodded. “Indeed. He is the sort of man who would always look out for you, doing whatever necessary to ensure you are all well-protected. Both now and in the future.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed as he said these words for she knew their meaning. He implied that Thomas somehow arranged for their carriage to break down to throw Mr Bingley and Jane together.

“Mr Darcy, I do not know what it is you wish to imply,” she said, though she knew perfectly well. He raised a hand.

“I imply nothing. I merely feel it is fortunate that you have someone who wishes to look after you. That is all, Miss Bennet. Now. I shall bid you a good night,” he said but Elizabeth could not allow herself to let him depart first. Not after his unsolicited comment.

She took the first book she could off the shelf and turned.

“No, Mr Darcy. I ought to leave you to your card studies. You shall need it, if tonight is any indication.” With that, she turned, anger burning in her stomach along with some disappointment over the turn their conversation had taken.

At last she thought she’d found common ground with Mr Darcy, only for his ill-manners to flare up and dash it all once more.

And what bothered her more than anything was the fact that while they had conversed, she’d enjoyed herself.

Indeed, she found that, for the first time, she genuinely looked forward to continuing her conversation with Mr Darcy.

But that thought was now gone, along with the old family feeling of contempt for the man who thought himself above all others.