Page 13 of The Heroic Mr Darcy’s Bad Manners
Darcy
Some idiot was hammering on his door. It was completely unnecessary to make such a clamour in the middle of the night. Was a gentleman not allowed to sleep?
Darcy pried open his eyes and was surprised to see that he was still in his study—not in his chamber as he had supposed. At least it explained why his body ached from head to toe. His neck was particularly sore, and he was busy rubbing it when the door crashed into the wall. Colonel Fitzwilliam strutted in as if he owned the place. Darcy was immediately vexed at his cousin’s impudence, which was amplified by his pounding headache.
“Georgiana sent me an urgent note to come at once, and I worried something terrible had befallen you. I did not expect to find you deep into your cups, asleep in your chair whilst drooling all over your desk. If I had known, I would have stayed in my nice warm chamber. It is glacial out.”
Darcy wiped his mouth and squinted at his two cousins. Or was it just the one?
“Then I suppose you may as well return home. Your business is concluded. There is nothing that needs your attention here,” he growled. It was unfortunate he was instantly beset by a bout of hiccups.
The two-headed monster did not obey him, instead ringing for a servant before seating itself, uninvited, by the fire. It shoved its feet towards the flames, and he was certain its boots would later leave soot marks on his expensive oriental rug.
The door opened to admit his butler, and one of the oafs ordered refreshments to be brought forthwith. He said nothing until the coffee, accompanied by meat, bread, and cheese had been delivered.
Darcy was about to fall asleep again when the ogre nudged him—hard. He tumbled to the floor, and had not the ground been so blasted unsteady when he finally got up, he would have boxed the monster’s ears.
“Crawford!”
“It is Colonel Fitzwilliam, and you are out of your senses. I have never known you to be so melancholy, or so despondent as to resort to drinking yourself into a stupor.”
“Most assuredly,” Darcy agreed. “I am vacillating between self-preservation and existential wrath. To quote Pauli’s words, ‘ I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not, but what I hate I do.’”
Richard was eyeing him quizzically. He did not often quote biblical verses, and Darcy might as well inform the one from whom he could never keep a secret.
“Do you want to hear a funny story?” Darcy did not wait for a reply because the story was by no means humorous. “Or rather a horror story of gothic proportions.” And he admitted his feelings for Queen Elizabeth, Eilís, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Lady Elizabeth.
Once he had finished, he groaned and reached for the tumbler, which was ripped out of his hand before he could bring it to his mouth.
“Richard!” he bawled and rose to pummel the idiot. And he would have, had his legs not chosen that moment to entangle themselves in the aforementioned oriental rug. He tumbled to the floor whilst cursing the stupid carpet to hell.
“I suggest that you sleep until your faculties are restored,” Richard remarked drily.
After a moment in the embarrassing prostrate position, Darcy was hoisted to his feet and carried to his bedroom.
“Put him in his bed,” Richard ordered. “Bring a bucket. I suspect he will be sick at some point…”
He sank into his pillow and closed his eyes. When he opened them again, it was still dark out, and Richard snored lightly from an informal position on his sofa. The room smelt of foul regurgitation, and he drank greedily from a glass of water he found on the table beside his bed.
“We had an interesting conversation last night,” Richard suddenly drawled from the sofa.
Darcy rubbed his head and tried to remember what he might have said but had no recollection of even receiving his cousin.
“So, which is it?” Richard asked. “Is it Eilís, Queen Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth Bennet, or Lady Elizabeth?”
“I am certain I have no idea of what you are speaking,” Darcy prevaricated.
“Then let me remind you by quoting your words. I have fallen hopelessly in love, mentioning all the four ladies. You continued charmingly though. Eilís, Queen Elizabeth, Miss Elizabeth, and Lady Elizabeth must do as God pleases about loving me, but my affection for her cannot change. I may be miserable, but I shall never cease to love her most ardently. May God forsake me if I ever love another woman! I shall be eternally wretched if I ever in word or in deed am unfaithful—till the day I die. End of quote,” Richard informed him. “My question remains, who is it?”
“If I tell you, will you stop bellowing?” he entreated. His cousin’s powerful voice made his head throb.
“Certainly. I shall even order you a fresh cup of coffee,” he promised.
“They are all one and the same lady,” he admitted before sinking back into his pillow.
“I offer you my sincerest felicitations,” Richard smiled. “When is the blessed event?”
“Never! She despises me, and rightly so. I cannot think of my behaviour without abhorrence. There is not a man in this world less deserving of her approbation than me.”
“She must be a cold-hearted wretch,” Richard asserted with feeling.
“She is anything but. Lady Elizabeth is loveliness itself. Her goodness, compassion, wit, and intelligence are my idea of perfection. But when I entered Meryton’s monthly assembly I did not recognise Eilís. Miss Elizabeth had brown hair, appeared more reserved, and was significantly shorter. The dark, tallow-fogged assembly room did not allow me to see her exceptional eyes properly—the only true feature of hers I glimpsed on the night of the masquerade.”
“The Marquess of Limerick’s relation?”
“The very one…”
“I noticed your penchant for her society, but I did not suspect a serious attachment on such a short acquaintance.”
Darcy disregarded the obvious. When had he ever remained by a lady’s side for an entire evening?
“Bingley began pestering me to dance and pointed out Miss Elizabeth as a particularly desirable partner. As I mentioned before, I did not recognise her as Eilís, or as you would recall her, as Queen Elizabeth.”
He could not go on and repeat what he had said then. He bowed his head and rested it in his hands.
“Knowing something about your unyielding temper, I can imagine how you responded to Bingley’s well-meant prompt. The thought must have been unpalatable because you were already bewitched by Eilís, and once your mind is set, not ten wild horses could change your course.”
“It is worse than that. I was cruel and insulted her to her face,” he groaned.
“It cannot have been that bad. I have never known you to be cruel,” Richard tried to mollify him.
The comfort was undeserved. “Then you do not know me as well as you thought. I called her looks tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me and continued to insult her by proclaiming her slighted by all other men, for no other reason than because she was sitting out one dance. My offences were overheard by her mother and sister, who richly berated my insufferable manners before Elizabeth marched out of the room by way of my toes…”
Richard barked a laugh before his expression sobered. “What a disaster!”
“It turns out that, in matters of the heart, I am nothing but an ignorant blunderbuss,” Darcy admitted dejectedly.
“I assume you have begged the lady’s forgiveness for your callous remarks and assured her of your improved opinion.”
“I sent a message through her father,” Darcy replied lamely.
“And what was her reply? Did she forgive you?”
“It depends upon how faithful a correspondent Lord Glentworth is. It was done as we bade our farewells, and Elizabeth had already left for town.”
It was Richard’s turn to groan. “You truly are a dolt head. You cannot wait for weeks and allow the insult to fester before you, then by way of a messenger ask for forgiveness. This is worse than I imagined. What did she say to you yesterday that has you in the doldrums?”
“Very little. She greeted my sister and pretended not to see me.”
Richard tried, unsuccessfully, to hide a grin behind his coffee cup. “You do not exactly blend in with the furniture.”
“I should think not!” Darcy replied, vexed at his cousin’s mirth at his expense. “Well, I may have turned my head away whilst searching for Eilís. At that time, I was not aware that she was Lady Elizabeth.”
“How did you discover it?”
“When Lady Elizabeth snubbed me, her grandmother called her Eilís. I have since discovered that the name is the Irish equivalent of Elizabeth. Then Aunt Eudora wanted to see her costume. I did not realise what that meant before Elizabeth carried her red Queen Elizabeth dress into the room and pulled out a pair of shoes with abominably high heels. That is why she was so tall at the Argyll Rooms and appeared to have shrunk three inches in Hertfordshire.”
“I still find it hard to believe that you did not recognise her voice or manners much sooner,” Richard complained.
“If I had allowed Bingley to introduce me, I might have. But I did not and therefore had hardly heard her voice. To me, she was just an insignificant country bumpkin whom Bingley happened to single out because she was the sister of his latest angel. Needless to say, Lady Elizabeth took pains to avoid me after the assembly. I am ashamed to admit that I found her behaviour intriguing. I may, on occasion, have followed her about and eavesdropped on her conversations. It is particularly distasteful now that I know she desired me to call and was distraught when I did not. My callous words must have injured her deeply, and then I kept pestering her with my unwanted presence. She must have long desired my absence by then. In retrospect, it is not strange that she was so skittish at Netherfield.”
“Lady Elizabeth resided at Bingley’s estate?” Richard questioned, surprised. “And you still failed to recognise her?”
It was puzzling, and he had admitted, if only to himself, that the former Miss Elizabeth more than intrigued him. It was further proof of his abominable flaws as a suitor.
“Only for five days when her sister took ill with a violent cold. Miss Jane Bennet had dined with Miss Bingley and Mrs Hurst one evening whilst we gentlemen were engaged with the militia. Elizabeth arrived the next morning as I was strolling in the garden. I called her name, but she eschewed me by hastening through the kitchen entrance. I did not see her before dinner that evening, when she walked in on us whilst we were disparaging her windblown appearance and long solitary walk.”
“Are you certain she heard you?”
“Yes, she made a comment that left me in no doubt. By that time, I had acknowledged I was in some danger, but it felt like I was being unfaithful to Eilís, which only vexed me. I regard myself as steadfast, and to lust after two women was unnerving at best. Yet, one night I passed her reading on the sofa, and I could not help but let my fingers graze her elegant neck.”
“Darcy! She must have berated you, and rightfully so.”
“No, she startled and shut her book with a thump. It was not until I sat down beside her that she leapt to her feet and hastened back to her recovering sister.”
Richard rose and paced before him. “If she hated you, or even was indifferent, I believe she would have boxed your ears. If she dared trample on your toes, she does not lack courage. I would like to meet this paragon of female attributes and gauge for myself. I do not believe that all hope is lost, though the road to recovery, after what you have destroyed, may be daunting and humbling.”
“Lady Elizabeth is too civil to box my ears. You should have seen her comportment yesterday, Richard. She could not even bear to look at me!”
“Because she is still infatuated?”
“No! Because of the immovable contempt and dislike that is obvious in all her dealings with me. I was just too ignorant to see it!”
“So, you are just going to give up and continue as if nothing is amiss?” Richard sounded more resigned than he had ever heard him.
Darcy studied his cousin. He was rubbing his temples with a grim set around his mouth. He did not only look resigned but utterly dejected.
“No. Though there can be no chance of ever changing Lady Elizabeth’s opinion of me, I do not intend to continue as before. If nothing else, this experience has taught me a valuable lesson or two in how to act or not to act. I know I am a selfish being, or so I was up until this moment. But my pride, arrogance, and selfish disdain for the feelings of others have cost me dearly. I am not so much a fool that I do not recognise that, and I must do everything in my power to become a better man. One that would have been worthy of Eilís.”
“Lady Elizabeth,” Richard corrected.
“She has been Eilís in my private contemplations for so long. I suppose I must drive all thoughts of her from my mind.” And from his dreams, but that he did not voice aloud.