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Page 3 of Winter of Passion (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Darcy was tempted to intervene, but it was not his place nor his duty to do so, and it could have made things even worse.

Bingley seemed ready to answer, but Mrs Bennet spoke first, with the same honesty and ignorance of the effect of her words.

“Since we are among family and friends, I shall be frank and admit I am not so worried about seeing my other daughters married now. I know Jane will take care of them if necessary. Kitty and Mary are still young, and as for Lizzy, she could have been happily married by now too, but she was too stubborn for her own good and rejected a perfectly respectable marriage proposal. She will likely never receive another one as good as that, but I do not care. She made a foolish mistake and will have to live with it.”

The statement came as a shock, and Darcy saw many responses — different but equally strong: confusion, bewilderment, disbelief, mortification, even anger. He was torn between the last two; his heart was pounding, and he held his breath, struggling to keep his composure.

How was it possible that Elizabeth had spoken of his proposal to her mother?

He expected she would tell her elder sister, but her mother, who showed so little restraint, so little decorum, so little consideration for others’ feelings?

Was his proposal — his torment — a subject of amusement for the Bennets?

Mr Bennet and the Gardiners did not seem to be aware of the event.

How had it happened that Mrs Bennet knew?

Had Elizabeth told her on an impulse, just as she had shouted angry accusations when she had rejected him?

Or had Mrs Bennet heard by chance? Regardless, the turmoil that the revelation caused him was unbearable, and he was tempted to run from the room to avoid further comments.

“Mrs Bennet, I am not sure what you are talking about, and I am kindly asking you to immediately cease any conversation on this subject,” Mr Bennet intervened harshly. When Mrs Bennet tried to say another word, he stopped her again.

“If we are in disagreement, we should leave this very instant and continue the argument at home. It is your choice, madam!”

Mr Bennet’s rudeness was no less than his wife’s, but Darcy was grateful to the gentleman for putting an end to his misery. Whether he had done it on purpose or not, Darcy felt too tired to guess.

Catching his breath, Darcy cast a glance at Elizabeth; her face was red, and her eyes were turned to the ground, obviously refusing to meet his.

She seemed ashamed, and she had every reason to be so.

Disappointment, pain, and resentment threatened to return to his mind as strongly as on the day of his proposal.

He struggled to understand, to find an excuse, to find a reasonable explanation.

Eventually, she lifted her eyes and met his.

The expression on her face was painful to see, but only moments later it changed even more.

Her eyes widened as if something further had happened to add to the disaster.

The crimson was washed from her cheeks, replaced by a ghostly pallor, and her lips parted as if she wished to say something.

He stood up and took a few steps around the room, grabbed another glass of brandy, and hid himself in a corner.

He feared what Mrs Bennet would say next and wondered why she did not even look in his direction.

Even if she was upset at Elizabeth’s refusal, Mrs Bennet did not seem too disappointed to not have him as her son-in-law.

Was her dislike of him so deep that it had made her overlook the rejection so easily?

The rest of the evening was torture for Darcy. The others easily turned towards more appropriate subjects of conversation, and their ease returned. The only one who remained in an apparently low disposition was Elizabeth. And Darcy, of course.

He wanted to withdraw to his chamber but preferred to be present for whatever disaster that might come. Very few questions were addressed to him directly, so he could suffer in silent misery for a while.

Eventually, the party ended, and the guests left.

The Bingley sisters immediately hurried to their rooms, and so did the Bennet sisters.

Elizabeth threw him a brief look, which he could not hold long enough to guess its meaning.

Hurst suggested another drink in the library, so Darcy reluctantly accepted.

Once in the library, Darcy filled a glass of brandy, then reclined in a chair.

Hurst was talking about something; Bingley listened impatiently until he declared he must leave and did just that.

Darcy then found himself alone with Hurst, who continued to talk and drink until the brandy overcame him and he began snoring.

The clock showed that it was long past midnight when Darcy decided to return to his room. He could feel the effects of the brandy but not enough to keep him from thinking of Elizabeth and of his own suffering.

He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and then stopped.

There was Elizabeth’s door, only steps away.

How was it possible that he so deeply loved a woman who kept hurting him?

Why did his love remain so painfully strong despite his disappointment?

How could he vanquish her from his mind and his heart?

He took a few more steps and then stopped again, stunned by the image in front of him, uncertain whether it was real or not.

There was Elizabeth, standing at the door of her room, wearing her nightgown and a robe, her hair falling loose over her shoulders.

“Mr Darcy, I have been listening for your return,” she whispered.

“Miss Bennet! Why are you out of your room? Why are you not sleeping? It is very late,” he heard himself mumbling.

Now he knew she was real. Her voice, her trembling lips, her bare feet, her scent, the shape of her body under the robe, the skin of her throat, her neck…all were painfully real — so close and yet such a great distance away from him.

“Would you please allow me only a moment? There is something of great importance that I must say to you.”

“Now?” he asked in disbelief. “We should wait till tomorrow,” he said, his reason stronger than his temptation to be with her.

“Please…only a moment. We both deserve to clarify a painful misunderstanding, otherwise, I am sure neither of us will find any rest tonight,” she begged with both her eyes and her voice.

He hesitated, incapable of refusing yet fearing to accept. She took a step back, then said, “We should not be seen… Would you please come in for just a moment?”

She insisted, and he was too weak to refuse her.

He wished to talk to her, if only for that one brief moment she had mentioned, so he stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

The effects of the alcohol had disappeared, but her nearness was even more intoxicating. And he felt dangerously dizzy.

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