Evenings with Darcy Read online

  EVENINGS WITH DARCY

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Jane Grix

  Copyright 2019 Beverly Farr Giroux

  This story is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical without permission in writing from the author.

  Cover design by beetifulbookcovers.com

  Cover image by juriskraulis/depositphotos.com

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Evenings with Darcy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  EPILOGUE

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  Website: www.janegrix.com

  Facebook: www.facebook.com/Jane-Grix-Author-122554261410387/

  Email: [email protected]

  Mailing list: www.janegrix.com

  For a FREE DOWNLOAD of Four More Elizabeth and Darcy stories, sign up for the author’s VIP mailing list here: http://janegrix.com/ano-fd-signup2/

  PROLOGUE

  The party at Lucas Lodge was a large one. Elizabeth Bennet sipped her punch and surveyed the room. She was pleased to see that their newest neighbour Mr. Bingley was talking with her older sister Jane. They were seated together on the opposite side of the room. Elizabeth was not as bold as her mother, who maintained that Mr. Bingley was sure to propose to Jane any day now, but she did think that Mr. Bingley showed a preference for her sister. Whether his preference would mature into love, Elizabeth did not know, but she was glad to see her sister getting the attention she deserved. Jane was beautiful with golden hair, blue eyes and a delicate profile, but more importantly, she was the sweetest, most generous and tender-hearted young woman Elizabeth had ever known. As for Mr. Bingley, he seemed promising – he was handsome, amiable and well-mannered.

  He was also rich, rumoured to have a fortune of four or five thousand pounds a year, which pleased her mother. Elizabeth was not as mercenary as her mother, but she would be a simpleton if she did not acknowledge that a man with money was a better prospect than one without.

  In truth, Elizabeth liked everything about Mr. Bingley except for his haughty sisters and his haughty friend, Mr. Darcy.

  Elizabeth could forgive Mr. Bingley for his sisters Caroline Bingley and Mrs. Hurst. One could not choose one’s relations after all, but she wondered at his choosing Mr. Darcy as a friend.

  Elizabeth eyed that gentleman briefly from the corner of her eyes. He was standing beside Miss Bingley, looking as if he were completely bored. Did the man never smile?

  Elizabeth had first met Mr. Darcy a few weeks before at an Assembly. When she first saw him, she was pleasantly impressed. Mr. Darcy was quite tall and more handsome than Mr. Bingley with dark hair, a noble mien and a striking physique. He stood apart from the crowd – a commanding man, impeccably dressed. For the first time in her life, she had felt more than a passing interest in a gentleman and wanted to know him better.

  But within a short time, his attitude gave her a disgust. Mr. Darcy was proud, conceited, and above his company. And then to make the situation even worse, Elizabeth overheard him telling Bingley that he would not ask her to dance because she was not handsome enough to tempt him.

  Odious man.

  At that moment, Elizabeth decided that she did not care what Mr. Darcy thought of her and she felt foolish for thinking that he might be someone out of the ordinary.

  She did not want his approval.

  But in the few times that they had since crossed paths at various social events, it seemed that he was observing her closely.

  He did not speak to her directly but drew near as if listening to her conversations with others. It was unnerving.

  Elizabeth sought out her friend Charlotte Lucas to ask her what she thought of Mr. Darcy’s behaviour. “I don’t understand it. He comes close enough to overhear but not close enough to join in a conversation. Tonight he stood right beside me and Colonel Forster, listening to us, but saying nothing. Whatever can he mean by it?”

  Charlotte smiled. “Perhaps he likes you.”

  Elizabeth gave a little laugh. “Nonsense. More likely he is cataloguing my faults.” Elizabeth glanced over at him once again and saw that he was looking at her again. She looked away nervously. She said quietly, “But I do wish I knew what he was thinking.”

  “Then ask him,” Charlotte said in a practical manner.

  “I could never. You know as well as I that no one ever says exactly what they are thinking. Society would fall apart if we were completely honest. No, we must be polite and hide our deepest thoughts.”

  Charlotte smiled. “But among friends, there is a time and a place for honesty.”

  “True,” Elizabeth acknowledged. Charlotte was something of a philosopher. “But perhaps not at an evening party.”

  “Perhaps not,” Charlotte agreed.

  Her father, Sir William Lucas was a jovial man and often hosted parties. Elizabeth’s mother said that he did so in the hopes of finding Charlotte a husband – for she was twenty-seven years old and practically ‘on the shelf’ – but Elizabeth thought it was more a matter of his enjoying lively company and conversation – something sadly lacking in Lady Lucas.

  Elizabeth liked parties herself because they gave her an opportunity to observe others.

  But then, as if by chance, Mr. Darcy chose to walk by, and Elizabeth decided to be brave and confront him. She said, “Mr. Darcy. I would like a word with you.”

  Charlotte’s eyes widened with amusement.

  He bowed slightly. “Ma’am.”

  Elizabeth said, “Did you not think that I expressed myself uncommonly well just now, when I was teasing Colonel Forster to give us a ball at Meryton?”

  “With great energy – but it is a subject which always makes a lady energetic.”

  “Always?” Elizabeth repeated. “Do you presume to know every woman’s opinion?”

  “Of course not,” he said coolly. “But in my experience women seem to enjoy dancing more than men.”

  It was her experience as well, but she would not admit it. She said, “Surely there is a range of enjoyment, with some men liking it more than some women.”

  He nodded. “And with myself liking it least of all.”

  She said, “But you danced at Meryton.” With Mr. Bingley’s sisters, not with her.

  “I did. But only as a duty.”

  Elizabeth smiled and lifted her chin. “Then I feel sorry for you, sir. I consider dancing to be one of life’s greatest pleasures.”

  For a moment they stared uncomfortably at each other, until Charlotte interrupted. “And now it is your turn to be teased, Eliza,” she said cheerfully. “I am going to open the piano, and you know what follows.”

  Elizabeth shook her head. “Not tonight, Charlotte,” she said. “For I have a tickle in my throat. I don’t think I could sing at all.”

  Charlotte said, “Then I will ask Mary to play.”

  Elizabeth winced. Her sister Mary was an accomplished player, but she was overly ambitious. She tended to play songs that were beyond her expertise with excruciating results. Elizabeth was certain Mr. Darcy would find her performance woefully inadequate and have another r
eason to think poorly of his provincial company.

  Darcy waited until Charlotte had left to say, “You don’t wish your sister to play?”

  He was too observant. Elizabeth chose to change the subject rather than answer him. “What do you think of our neighbourhood, Mr. Darcy? Hertfordshire society must be very different from what you are accustomed to in London.”

  “Yes, but that does not mean that I cannot appreciate both,” he said coolly. “I enjoy my time in Town as well as in the country. I spend much of the year in Derbyshire.”

  “Ah yes, at Pemberley, is it?”

  “Yes.”

  She had heard rumours that it was a large estate and that Mr. Darcy’s fortune was more than ten thousand pounds a year.

  At this point, Mary began to play and there was no more need for conversation. Indeed, judging from the pained look on Mr. Darcy’s face, Elizabeth was glad that she did not know his thoughts. Mary was skilled but she played with a pedantic air that was annoying.

  Elizabeth saw that her two youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty did not sit quietly to hear Mary. Instead, they whispered with other guests, primarily with officers. Occasionally Lydia giggled loudly, drawing attention to herself.

  Elizabeth wished her sisters were not so enamoured by the soldiers who were currently stationed near Meryton, but there was little she could do to improve their behaviour. Their mother found no wrong with their actions – she wanted her five daughters to find husbands and did not care how they did it. And their father did nothing to curb their boisterous flirtations. He was a bookish man who ignored his children except to call them “silly, ignorant girls.” Elizabeth thought that was unfair, for how could they be anything else when they had been left to grow like weeds?

  Elizabeth saw Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst exchange looks of distain, and Elizabeth did not know whether it was for Mary’s playing, Lydia’s loudness, or the vulgarity of the party itself. Miss Bingley and her sister were self-important women who wore expensive clothes and considered themselves superior to everyone in the room.

  Elizabeth had noticed that Miss Bingley liked Mr. Darcy, and she thought they would be equally matched – for both of them were highly irritating. She smiled to herself, imagining them living to an old age together, forever looking down their noses at everyone else.

  When Mary finally finished a long concerto, Elizabeth was relieved, and she hoped that no one else would encourage her to continue. Sir William thanked Mary most politely and said cheerfully, “And now for another amusement. Who would like to play blind man’s bluff?”

  Elizabeth was surprised. It had been years since she had played that game. Blind man’s bluff was more of a child’s game.

  She noticed that Mr. Darcy’s frown deepened.

  Lydia called out, “I’ll play!” and encouraged some of the officers to join her.

  Elizabeth glanced at Jane, wondering if they should be concerned, but Jane was paying attention to Mr. Bingley rather than Lydia. Neither one of them were attending to the game.

  Her mother, Mrs. Bennet clapped her hands. “What a charming idea, Sir William.”

  It only took a few minutes for the chairs to be pulled back into a circle, making room for the game. Several of the gentlemen rolled up an oriental carpet so no one would trip. Lady Lucas produced a silk scarf from her reticule and tied it over Lydia’s eyes so she couldn’t see.

  One of the officers volunteered to turn Lydia around so she would not know which direction she was facing.

  Mr. Darcy turned away from the players and stepped past the ring of chairs

  “You don’t wish to play, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked.

  “Not if I can avoid it.”

  Elizabeth had been thinking the same, but then he added, “It is a ridiculous activity” and his pompous tone made her change her mind.

  “I’ll play,” she said suddenly and smiled at the look of astonishment on his face.

  She explained with a little laugh, “Unlike you, I rather enjoy the ridiculous.”

  Lydia walked around, reaching for people who stepped out of her way, laughing and giggling. Elizabeth stood near the chairs.

  She was aware of Miss Bingley approaching Mr. Darcy who stood several feet behind her, and Elizabeth overheard their conversation for neither of them whispered.

  “I can guess the subject of your reverie,” Miss Bingley said.

  “I should imagine not.”

  “You are considering how insupportable it would be to pass many evenings in this manner – in such society, and indeed I am quite of your opinion. I have never been more annoyed! The insipidity and yet the noise; the nothingness and yet the self-importance of all these people! I can’t believe that Sir William suggested this childish game. No doubt you are as eager as I am to return to civilization.”

  Elizabeth liked Miss Bingley even less now. The young woman was very rude to denigrate her company when anyone might overhear her. Elizabeth hoped that Sir William or Lady Lucas would not hear her.

  “You are mistaken, I assure you,” Mr. Darcy said. “I have no desire to leave as yet.”

  “I am all astonishment.”

  So was Elizabeth, frankly. She thought Mr. Darcy would be planning his escape.

  Darcy added, “Indeed, my mind has been more agreeably engaged. I have been meditating on the very great pleasure which a pair of fine eyes in the face of a pretty woman can bestow.”

  At this, Elizabeth glanced briefly over her shoulder to see which young woman had inspired Mr. Darcy’s admiration, and to her amazement, he was looking directly at her.

  Good heavens. Did Mr. Darcy think she was pretty?

  She blushed.

  He glared at her.

  Elizabeth hastily looked away, her thoughts and emotions in a turmoil. She must be mistaken.

  At that moment, blindfolded Lydia caught her arm.

  “Got you,” Lydia said triumphantly.

  She moved her hands down to Elizabeth’s hand and felt her fingers. Lydia said out loud, “I know you’re Lizzy because you’re wearing Aunt Prudence’s ring and you smell like your favourite perfume!”

  The guests clapped their hands and Elizabeth who hardly knew what to think about Mr. Darcy said, “You are right.”

  Lydia removed the scarf from her eyes and held it out to Elizabeth. “It’s your turn now.”

  Elizabeth no longer wished to play the game, but she had little choice, so she smiled and avoided looking at Mr. Darcy for the remainder of the evening.

  CHAPTER ONE

  ONE MONTH LATER

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stared out the window of his bedroom at Netherfield Park, deep in thought. Bingley had left for London the day before and after a dinner conversation with Miss Caroline Bingley, they had both decided to return to London as well. Caroline did not want her brother to spend any more time in Jane Bennet’s company and Darcy did not want to spend any more time in Elizabeth Bennet’s company. Not that he would disclose that fact to Caroline.

  Caroline already teased him that he was falling in love with Elizabeth, and she often asked him what he thought of Mrs. Bennet as his future mother-in-law.

  Caroline considered it all a joke, but the truth of his present feelings alarmed him as much as it would astonish her.

  Despite all his efforts to maintain his equilibrium, he was falling in love with Elizabeth.

  His family would be appalled. He was appalled.

  He knew he couldn’t marry her. She would never be a proper mistress for Pemberley.

  It would be a degradation for him to marry her. She was a provincial nobody. Her father was a landed gentleman, but his estate was small. Rumour was that Elizabeth’s dowry would be less than a thousand pounds.

  And Mrs. Bennet – she had no manners and her brothers were in Trade.

  And Elizabeth’s younger sisters were vulgar flirts.

  Everything about Elizabeth and her family should have made him keep his distance.

  And yet.

  And yet.
/>
  There was something so lovely and appealing about her. It wasn’t merely her physical appearance – although she was a pretty young woman with dark curling hair, bright eyes, and a light, pleasing figure. No, it was something more – her intelligence and honesty intrigued him.

  For the first time in his life, he’d met a young woman who did not flatter him.

  Instead she intrigued him with her pert and clever conversation.

  She had bewitched him. He thought about her all the time. He wanted to talk to her to know her better.

  Two nights ago, he had danced with her at Bingley’s ball. They had talked about George Wickham of all people, and even now, he found himself wanting to explain himself, to make her listen to him.

  It infuriated him that she obviously liked Wickham when he wanted her to like himself instead.

  Darcy sighed.

  “Sir?” his valet Boyles asked. “Is your cravat too tight?”

  “No,” Darcy said and turned towards the man. “It is fine.” He stood while his valet helped him with his coat.

  The sooner he was in London the better. He had known that his heart was in danger when Elizabeth and her sister Jane spent several days at Netherfield Park. Jane Bennet had caught a cold while visiting Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst, and she had stayed at Netherfield to recover. Elizabeth had come to visit Jane and had stayed as well.

  He would never forget the sight of Elizabeth, arriving unexpectedly while he was eating breakfast. She stood before him with windblown hair and her cheeks flushed with the exertion of walking three miles from her family home.

  Later, Caroline and her sister talked about her petticoats being caked with mud, but he saw nothing of that.

  Elizabeth Bennet was breathtaking.

  She looked so warm and alive – unlike all the prim and proper women he met every day in London.

  At that moment, he was tempted to scoop her up in his arms and damn the consequences.

  Fortunately, before he could make a fool of himself, Bingley spoke, and cold reason returned.

  Since then, Darcy had done everything he could to maintain his composure around Elizabeth. He spoke to her as little as humanly possible, and he tried not to watch her every move, but he was like a moth drawn to a flame.