Scotch and Sirens - Lizzy and Darcy - Scotch and Sirens

Lizzy stood in the doorway of Holly’s room and watched her latching her trunk. She had heard from her aunt that her cousin had received an express letter and was leaving immediately to escort a former pupil to London.

“Holly, my aunt just told me of your going. Do you really feel you have to? Is there some other way for Mrs. Preston to bring her daughter back?” She paused, realising she might be overstepping her bounds with her next statement but took the step anyway out of concern. “I know there is the money to consider, but surely there is enough to not have to take this errand on?”

Holly gave a curt response. “I do not know if there is any other way or not. I was sent this letter, all the arrangements have been made, and Miss Preston will be waiting for me.”

Realising how she sounded, Holly softened her tone. “The money is needed, Lizzy, especially since I no longer have my job at Hockdown. Besides, I have never been to London and this may be my only opportunity.”

Elizabeth realised that Holly had probably had words with her mother over this already. She would not make it worse by arguing with her about it. Her cousin would do what she thought was right.

“I see that you are set on going, so I will not try to deter you. I am sorry to have seemed to. It was selfish of me. I will miss your company immensely, but I will survive. Your reasons are sound, and I am sure that Mrs. Preston has sent a servant to travel with you. I have travelled by post often, as you have, and I know that you will be fine,” she said.

“Lizzy, do not suppose I believe for a moment that you will miss my company, for I have hardly seen you these last few mornings. Where do you keep stealing off to, and why do you come back later and later each day?” She smiled.

Holly was right, she thought. She had stayed out too long today, yet she could not bring herself to regret it.

“Holly, I wish I could tell you something noble, like I have been tending to the sick and poor, but I cannot. It just so happens that I sometimes travel farther than I should, the countryside being so beautiful that I often forget myself.”

“Well, I will let the subject of your morning walks rest. When I return I will be ready to listen when you are ready to talk. But please, dearest cousin, please guard your heart.”

Lizzy was a little surprised that her cousin would see so much where she was sure she had shown so little. But she had given Holly a great deal of reason to worry over her and to watch her closely, so she should not have been surprised by her words. She felt badly now that she had shared so much in the beginning. Not because she did not want Holly to know, but because she felt she now burdened her cousin with added worry.

Yet, now she shared so little, but what was there to share except that she could no longer guard a heart that had already been lost. And now she was on a different, rather more private path instead. One that included long talks while lounging alone with him by a riverbank and secret horseback riding lessons – all with the very man Holly was asking her to guard her heart against. No, she would not burden Holly with this, nor was it something she really wanted to share with anyone. It was for her alone.

“Very well, Holly.” She smiled kindly at her cousin, “Have it your way. When you return, you may do as you wish about what you think you perceive concerning me.”

Darcy walked his horse to Clyne cottage. There was no reason for him to make haste. He had a lot of time before the next morning came and he could meet Elizabeth again. He knew perfectly well that nothing from the latest happenings boded well for his hopes of ever gaining Elizabeth’s love, but the sole opportunity of spending time together with her meant a lot to him. And so, with a distant smile on his face, he eventually reached Clyne and entered the house. He soon found Brougham in the library.

“Good morning, Brougham,” Darcy briefly examined the mantle clock and added, “or at least I hope it went well.”

Brougham looked up from his book.

“Very well. I see your ride has been satisfying. So! After such a strenuous morning, are you in need of tea?”

Darcy smiled cordially at Brougham. “I most certainly am, thank you. So where were you today? I noticed your horse being groomed when I returned?”

“I went for a ride. But I must have taken the wrong route, for I can see from your face that yours was much more satisfying.”

“And which route was that of yours? I would think you knew best the most satisfying spots in this area.”

“Well, this is Scotland. It is very unpredictable. Just when you think everything is fine there is a rain shower or something even worse. And sometimes the sun comes out just when you have given up hope. Or maybe a blot on a perfectly beautiful landscape ruins your day, but then you might find beauty in things you have been indifferent to all of your life. You never know.”

Darcy burst out with laughter. “Brougham, what are you talking about? There was no rain today. The weather was enchanting. You have spent your morning riding. What is the problem here? Have you met someone? You are talking in riddles, old pal!”

Brougham smiled wearily. “They are not riddles, they are metaphors about larger things in life than scenery and rides, as it happens.”

He played with his watch and then picked at his nails. “But I did meet someone. I went by Rosefarm to see if the ladies were recovered from last night. Mrs. Tournier apparently had a good night after all, for she rose late and kept to herself. Miss Tournier was drawing bumblebees in the garden. I suppose that means she was working. And Miss Bennet, curiously enough, was also on some charming route, for she had been gone all morning.”

His Lordship watched his friend, comfortably arranged in a chair. Darcy was flipping through the pages of Boethius, wearing a look of satisfied smugness on his face. Apparently he had no intention of answering him. His Lordship sighed and shifted in his chair.

For a long time they sat thusly, seemingly lost in thought and waiting for tea to be served. When it finally was, they had it in practical silence as well. Afterwards Darcy pleaded letter-writing engagements and left Brougham to attend to them.

After embracing her cousin and then hugging and kissing her mother, Holly stepped up into the open carriage that Mrs. Steele’s had so kindly sent for her to use this morning.

“Well, Lizzy,” Mrs. Tournier said when she saw it disappear down the road, “what do you think of this affair? The power of money is quite fascinating sometimes, would you not agree?”

Lizzy nodded her head. “She is her father's daughter,” she said softly, "and her mother's.” She smiled brightly at Mrs. Tournier.

She had watched the clouds rolling in all morning. Rain had fallen sporadically but a far larger rush of it seemed imminent. She only hoped that Holly would make it to her coach before it all let loose on her head. There would be no riding today, that was certain, as they had agreed to not meet on days like this. She still had dressed to walk on the small hope that the weather might change quickly as it often did in Scotland, but it seemed her hopes were in vain.

A neighbour coming down the lane stopped and greeted them. Since he was passing their way, he had brought their mail along with him from the village. They thanked him and offered tea, but he was anxious to get home before it poured and was soon on his way. Upon going inside, her aunt handed her two letters and kept the other correspondence for herself. They both settled into comfortable chairs, ready to be entertained by what they found under the seals of their respective correspondence.

Arabella looked through hers and picked one to open first. She began to read it silently.

Ma Chère Tantine!

I can only imagine how surprised you are at receiving my letter just now. I am certain you will be pleased to know that mon cher papa, who had previously decided that I should travel - just as every young man of my age should - and get to know the world better before I settle myself and establish a family of my own, has also decided now that it is high time I pay a visit to ma chère famillie in Scotland. And so he told me to visit the gentille vueve, who is certainly in need of lightening her humour and having all the honours paid that are due to one who was married to mon cher parrain.

Voila! That is how the story went. You may expect me soon, as I shall not save my energy while travelling to Vous - ma Chère Tantine. I have severely missed you through all of these years, and I am certain you have missed me as much. I expect to find you and la petite Holly in la santé parfaite when I meet you both at La Ferme Rosée.

Bien á Vous,

M. Vian.

Lizzy had a letter from both her father and from Jane. These were the first she had received since her arrival, and she was anxious for news from them both. She decided to open her father's first, saving Jane's for last. She broke the seal and began to read.

Dearest Lizzy,

Since you have seen fit to interrupt your visit with long and entertaining letters to me, I, who seldom trouble myself to write many, have finally been overcome enough by your generosity to return the favour.

Just as I had suspected would happen once you removed yourself from our presence, I have indeed not heard more than two words of sense spoken together at one time. Except for Jane, who does well enough I must admit, so I should be fair and not include her in that statement.

I will not long dwell here on what your mother tells me to relay to you, except to say that she wishes you her best of course, but her words were much more longwinded and dispersed with warnings and some admonishments as to the proper behaviour of young ladies. She, as usual, worries that you will say too much, or the wrong thing, and will thereby scare all of the eligible young gentlemen away. You have my permission, on the other hand, to speak as you find, as I have the greatest trust in your judgment and comportment -- and a much higher understanding of it than I think your mother has.

It is almost business as usual at Longbourn. Mary is constantly playing at the pianoforte when she is not reading. She has yet to gain any emotion or skill in her playing or singing despite all of her practicing, still, one must admire her perseverance. In addition, she daily adds to her repertoire of those little kernels of knowledge that I find so enjoyable to hear her repeat to us. She will soon surpass Fordyce in her wisdom, or at least I have great hopes in that direction.

Kitty still mopes about a great deal, missing her guiding partner's lead, but she seems to find some pleasure in the company of Maria Lucas much to my relief. Although I have some reservations that she is finding more pleasure in the influence she has newly discovered she is capable of giving out than in any other advantage she might find in the situation. Let us hope I am misguided in my thinking concerning this subject.

I will mention nothing in particular about Jane, as I know she is writing you now as I do myself, and that she will relay any news she has herself with much more care than I would.

Your mother, of course, is as one will always find her - very busy and concerned with things that do not require such a level as she applies to them, but one must give her the due she deserves when it comes to being consistent. She is nothing if she is not that.

I, myself, get on as I usually do, spending time with my books as much as I dare and attending to estate business. I am quite well.

And now I come to enquiries about you, dear Lizzy. I must own that I felt a great deal of concern for you before you left us. I will admit that I would not have wished to have you go from my presence so soon after your other travels and my own short jaunt to London had I not felt it might be in your best interest to be away with whatever thoughts that occupied you so severely. Please reassure me that I have not erred in my assessment of your state of mind and needs. If I was incorrect in my judgment and you should wish to be at home now, please feel free to liberally use any excuse, should you need one, that you may find in Jane's letter or my own entreaties to hurry you home. If you find your present surroundings more to your mind's comfort and care, then you have my blessing to remain for as long as you desire. In that case, should you so choose the latter, know that I have sent instructions to the local law firm of MacLinton & Sons. You only need to apply there if you are in need of anything concerning money.

Your Loving Father,
T. B.

Lizzy could not stop to reflect on all that her father had said at the moment, except to think that she loved him so dearly, because one line in it struck her with an urgency to open Jane's immediately: “…please feel free to liberally use any excuse you may find in Jane's letter…”

She tore open its seal and perused its contents with great hopes.

Dear Lizzy,

I am so entirely full of happiness I do not even know where to begin. I know I should begin by asking you how you are there, but I cannot bear to spend another moment writing without sharing some news with you – news that I know you will rejoice in as soon as you hear it.

I am to become Mrs. Bingley! Oh, Lizzy, you were right all along! He did love me! He did not know I was in London all of those months or he would have visited me there. Oh, but it matters not any longer.

How shall I bear so much happiness my dear, dear, Lizzy? I wish to have you here by my side this moment to pinch me and tell me I am not dreaming. I will write with more details later, as he is waiting for me at my side now. We will walk to town along with Kitty and Maria to post this just as soon as I finish it.

Pray, write and tell me of yourself, Lizzy! How goes it there?

With all the love and happiness I am feeling,

Your Jane.

‘How shall you bear such happiness? Why, with all of the grace you possess and in your usual unassuming style, my dear, happy Jane,’ Lizzy thought. She was smiling from ear to ear and could not stop or contain her joy in any other way. Her immediate thought was to arrange travel home and go on the morrow, but she soon thought better of it. It was not because of Mr. Darcy's presence of course, she told herself quickly. Not that at all! But because Jane would be so occupied with Mr. Bingley she would not need her in the way. The wedding would not occur right away. There was plenty of time for her to go home and be of service there later. Yes, plenty of time!

Mrs. Tournier had been reading a letter, but she now looked up sharply and fixed Lizzy with a stare.

“If sitting still at this hour of the morning is so difficult for you, Lizzy, I suggest you race up and down the stairs to the attic for half an hour. Or is it the letter? Hard to see how a letter could put you in such a state, but I am willing to take my long-suffering daughter's place and hear your news from Longbourn.”

Lizzy laughed, “Oh, Aunt, I sometimes think you tolerate me only because I refuse to let your brisk manner intimidate me! But it does not, and it shall not, especially today! Jane will be married to a very kind gentleman whom she loves dearly and who loves her in return! Try to put a damper on that news with your dour look at me! You shall not!” and she beamed her happiness at Mrs. Tournier, the broad smile still gracing her face as if it would never quit.

“You judge me very ill indeed, Lizzy, if you think I would put a damper on such wonderful news.”

“Of course I was just teasing you, Aunt! I do not believe what I said for a moment. No, you like me for my wit and willingness to be impertinent to you even when you do not deserve it!”

“So, Jane has snared herself a husband! Or someone has finally discovered her for the gem she is, I should say. Your mother must be delighted. And is he of consequence as well as kind? I hope it is a sensible marriage as well as a happy one. Although marriage certainly is a goal worth striving for, I should hate sense and ambition to not rest easily with sincerity and affection.

“Well, I cannot pretend I do not think it was about time! I only wonder that she did not do so long ago. Or is that sweet temper and easy disposition of hers just a disguise to hide a fastidiousness and stubbornness like yours, Lizzy?”

“No, Aunt, Jane is not like me at all. She is all that is angelic and kind. Too generous for her own good at times. The gentleman is a man of means. He is a friend of Mr. Darcy's in fact. We had met them both last fall, along with Mr. Bingley's sisters, when he let Netherfield.”

She grew thoughtful for a moment.

“Yet, perhaps she is a little like me after all,” Lizzy said, an impish, happy look in her eyes. “Jane has fallen for the man and not his means, I am most sure of that. His disposition is so like hers. I know they will be happy!”

“A friend of Mr. Darcy, indeed?”

Mrs. Tournier grew thoughtful. She took her niece’s hand in hers and squeezed it. “Lizzy, I do believe you have had quite a year since I last saw you. It seems to me your life has been turned upside down in many ways. I think you have changed – grown up if you like. Oh, you will be insulted now, for you have always aspired to sense and maturity and intelligence and now I am telling you have been lacking in them. But I think it is true nonetheless.

“Now, after all of that, what will it take to make you happy?”

Elizabeth looked closely at her aunt. She knew that Mrs. Tournier had her best interests at heart just as Holly did. And the lady was right. She did feel she had grown a great deal in this past year. But she had always kept her own council concerning matters that so closely affected her current feelings. Especially when there was such danger in revealing them and so little chance of things turning in her favour.

“You are right, dear Aunt. I know you have gathered from my letters to you that I have not been content, and you probably see me here now as a slightly different person from the last time we visited. I do not take offence at what you say. You have both reason and evidence for your observation.”

She glanced out the window and saw the weather had not improved, but had instead taken a turn for the worse, the rain now falling in buckets. She turned back to look at Mrs. Tournier.

“What would make me happy is if this day would have been a sunny one,” she said evasively, although her aunt could not have known how close to the truth that was. But at that lady’s stern look, she continued. “I would be happy if I could find a man that I loved who loved me in return, as Jane has done. Is that so much to ask?”

“No. That is most reasonable. I would hope, however, that you would include that he should be worthy of you and that you should respect him. You are very much like your father, Lizzy. The same pride in your intellectual abilities – and very deservingly so – but perhaps a little foolish when it comes to combining that intellect with your heart. You say you want love, and that is all very well, but it should be the right kind of love, the kind of love that is good for you and is good for your husband. I have no doubt Lydia loves her husband – for now. Your father loved his wife, as well. Do you see what I mean? But perhaps your fault is the opposite. Perhaps you do not trust love?”

Lizzy thought about it for a moment.

“Of course I want the other along with it. It could not be otherwise for me. I do not wish for, nor seek the kind of love that will not last. You know I would not. It is quite possible that you have it right, that I do not trust love, but I think it is more that I do not trust myself or my own judgment any more. In any case, the subject is not relevant at the moment. There is no possible love or lover for me currently in our midst.” She felt that to be very true, that there was no hope in that area at all.

“Now,” she said, hoping to change the subject, “will you tell me what interesting person has written you, Aunt? You always have the most unusual correspondents.”

“I still have one letter from Sir John I want to read. You might find it tiresome, for he is quite engulfed in his work at the moment and hardly makes any sense at all. You can read my bills if you like. They will amuse you, I am sure, for the ridiculousness of tradesmen in their pricing and flattery is hard to beat sometimes. And this…” She waved her latest letter in the air with an exasperated sigh. “This is quite a story in itself. You had better ring for tea and scones with plenty of Mrs. Higgins’ raspberry jam if I am to tell you the story of this one.”

Lizzy sipped her tea as her aunt read Sir John's long and rather dry letter aloud. When she had finished, long after Mrs. Higgins had cleared the tea things away, she looked at Lizzy as if to enquire whether or not she was diverted by it.

“Well, Aunt, as much as I find your friends of great interest, I hope you would not mind if I retire to my room and answer my own correspondence?” They both laughed, but Mrs. Tournier gave her leave to do as she had requested.

Lizzy took her letters and returned to her room full of many thoughts, but not one of them centring on Sir John. She spent the remainder of the day rereading her letters, answering them and thinking far too much before finally settling in to read a book to take her mind elsewhere.

She retired early after a quiet dinner, hoping for a much clearer day tomorrow in terms of the weather - if not in her thoughts as well.

Darcy stared out his chamber window at the dismal and damp weather the morning had brought with it. What a disappointing discovery after such a promising day like yesterday. He sighed heavily and went down to breakfast. He was the first in the parlour again, although he was not sure if it was because he had recently got used to waking up even earlier than usual, or because Brougham had stayed in bed longer. He poured himself a cup of coffee and looked outside the window to see if there was any hope for his morning. The picture was not encouraging at all, and Darcy soon resigned himself to having a prolonged breakfast with only a newspaper to keep him company.

After several previously solitary breakfasts, Brougham was pleasantly surprised when he saw his friend buried behind a newspaper in the breakfast parlour. Amusement was added to that when he discovered Darcy had no intention of breaking off his quiet read simply because he had entered the room.

“Darcy,” he said.

“Hm,” was the reply from behind the paper.

Oddly enough this singular greeting was encouraging to Brougham rather than insulting, and he helped himself to coffee and fare with a small smile on his lips. He bided his time behind his own paper and for a long while there was only the rustling of turning pages to be heard in addition to the rain outside and the clinking of china and cutlery.

“So,” Brougham resolutely said pushing down his paper. “No ride today? It seems I have you all to myself for the morning. I wonder what on earth we shall think of to occupy ourselves with.”

Darcy folded his newspaper and looked at his friend. “Well, Brougham, I am here for you to entertain me, so I hope you have something in mind. Maybe you will see fit to explain to me all the Scottish metaphors you listed yesterday and their reference to your visiting Rosefarm Cottage.”

Brougham smiled. “They were general observations on life, I would have you know, and I am not completely sure how they tie in with my visit to Rosefarm except to say life and people certainly are varied in that household.

“I think I must tell you that my valet has gone to London on an assignment for me. He will be gone for a while. And as for entertainment, I expect you to be as diverting as me, for I cannot help having recognised that you certainly lead a most fulfilling equestrian life every morning. How is Miss Bennet these days?”

Darcy gave his friend a sly smile. “Why, Brougham, you are the one who paid a visit to the Rosefarm ladies, so I thought you would give me such a report. But I recall your saying that Miss Bennet was out, so I guess you will apprise me about Miss Tournier’s well-being instead.”

Brougham got up and paced around the table to pour himself some more coffee. He did not return to his seat, however, but continued pacing in front of the window, taking in the grey and miserable view.

“Alright, Darcy, I will tell you something about Miss Tournier’s well-being. I am seriously concerned about it. She took the post to London this morning alone with a 15-year-old schoolgirl on the commission of that girl’s mother. Madness. Absolute madness. And half of the reason for my annoyance is that the girl’s mother is Mrs. Preston, who could certainly afford to send a carriage for them and convey Miss Tournier back home in a much safer way than this.

“The other half of the reason I am annoyed is that the ungrateful chit would not hear of taking my assistance even though she received the express right in front of me and informed me of her plans. So now I am reduced to sending my manservant on a babysitting expedition back and forth to London, asking him to sneak around and spy on a girl, who really, all things considered, does not deserve – or probably need – this courtesy in the first place!”

Darcy leaned back in his chair and observed his friend’s annoyance. “Why, I am sure Riemann will do his job well and there is nothing for you to worry about. Actually, I would rather wonder why she did not accept your assistance. Your offer was nothing unusual and I can see no reason for her to refuse, especially if you insisted, and I am certain you would have. What did she give for her argument? Does she know that you are acquainted with Mrs. Preston?”

“Yes, she does”, he muttered. “And her stubborn nature will not allow her to overlook Mrs. Preston’s past, and so I am guilty by association in all likelihood. Thinks she can do everything by herself. Damn stupidity!”

He turned around from the window and put down his coffee cup, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He gave Darcy a dark look and sighed. “I did insist. After all, it is what I am supposed to do, in accordance with my aspirations to being a gentleman”, he snorted. “Is it not what you would have done? And why we were chasing Miss Lydia all around the blasted underbelly of London?”

He stopped himself as he realised what he had just said. “Well, obviously, that was somewhat different, now was it not? Nevertheless. That is the sort of thing we do because we are gentlemen.”

Darcy smiled slightly but remained serious. “Why, yes, that was different. After all, that was not what one normally does for a lady of his acquaintance. But your offer of transport was perfectly natural. That of course cannot be said about sending your manservant without her knowledge, though I am not surprised you did. However, it still does not explain why she objected. What do you mean you are guilty by association? Do you think she holds your acquaintance with Mrs. Preston against you?”

Brougham shrugged his shoulders and looked sullen. “I am certain she does. Without, I might add, having the slightest clue of the real circumstances. So much for meriting substance, not circumstance!”

There was an ironic tone to Darcy’s response. “So she is guilty of judging you too hastily only because she alleges you were intimately acquainted with Mrs. Preston, while in fact it was that lady’s sister? Her fault must be great indeed! Whatever the circumstance, you know well that one was not acquainted with any of the sisters only because of a fascination with the theatrical arts. It is no surprise that Miss Tournier did not want to arrive there in your carriage. In fact, you are lucky she did not choose it. There is still a chance that she will not be informed about some indiscretions from your past.”

Darcy looked at Brougham hesitantly. “I am guessing you would not like her to know.”

Brougham sank into his chair and leaned back. His eyes narrowed into slits and he watched Darcy for a long time in silence, his face absolutely imperturbable. Finally he picked up his knife and started carefully peeling an apple from the tray on the table. Still he said nothing. He ate the apple, slowly. He deposited the remains of the fruit on his plate and pushed it away. When he finally spoke his voice was level and his countenance calm and collected once more.

“It is not for me to decide what Miss Tournier knows about me and what she does not know about me from outside sources. Whatever association I had with Mrs. Preston’s sister was not an indiscretion I regret or have ever tried to hide. My association with Mrs. Preston has never been an agreeable one, although it has always been perfectly respectable. Miss Tournier can approve or disapprove – that is beyond my control. But I resent being judged on false premises regardless of the actions on my part that form the basis of such a judgement. I will not play missish games. I have played enough games with much higher stakes to have any interest in them.”

Darcy leaned onto his elbow, his cheek supported on his palm, and looked at Brougham with consideration. “I do not say there was something that you should regret. You did nothing outstanding from what is usually accepted for a gentleman. Yet we do not expect the ladies from our sphere to ever learn about it. I do not think she judges you. In fact the mere acknowledgement of a relationship like that coming from the mouth of a gentlewoman must sound like a reproof. The question is how you feel about it. Really, is the stake in the game as irrelevant as you claim?”

Brougham returned Darcy’s gaze steadily, but his blue eyes were cold. “I feel damned regretful I ever mentioned the woman to her, that is what I feel. I have enough trouble with keeping civil to her without having to set traps for myself. I should not have mentioned Mrs. Preston at all. It was completely unnecessary and the result of some childish inclination on my part.”

Darcy smiled slightly, trying to console his friend. “Brougham, the truth is that something is wrong with the world when women, who were the mere fascination of our youth employ the gentlewomen of our acquaintance – ladies whom we respect and care for their good opinion. Their paths should never have crossed, and yet they did. You cannot hold your own deeds against Miss Tournier. She is not the one to be blamed for it. I do not think you really disagree with me, or her for that matter. I think you feel ashamed of yourself for her knowing more personal particulars about you than you would like her to. You would like her to hold you in the highest esteem, while she does not even want to use your carriage so as not to be alleged to be your mistress.

“Well, I wish I had my own carriage with me, that would solve the problem easily enough.”

Brougham’s frown deepened and his fingers began nervously to tap the table in front of him. “I see”, he said tersely. “Ashamed of myself, eh? Darcy, I would beg you not to start with me and speak your deep insights into the ways of hearts and minds! If I wanted any of that poppycock I would go and interrupt Mrs. McLaughlin and her cousin as they so merrily go on around the kitchen table!”

He abruptly rose and walked out the door.

Darcy sat in silence. Colours, places and faces from the past revealed themselves in his memory. They were all yellowed and blurred now, irrelevant, almost unreal. Their appeal had long since paled after his collage years, and since the day he first laid eyes on Elizabeth they had not glimmered even once. Some follies, noises of youth, accidentally adventurous hours with, often, equally accidental acquaintances. A skipped night, an empty bottle, a lad’s chant.

What if she asked? What is a gentleman supposed to answer to a question like that?

Something in him wanted her to ask the question, ask and show her rage. He toyed with the thought. The wrath that blazed in her eyes on so many occasions during their early acquaintance. The fury that stayed with him for so many sleepless nights after her refusal. So wholly did he yearn to be subjected to that passion again.

Looking for her in his fancies, searching through the carefully stored memories, he suddenly caught the vision of her eyes, and his breath froze.

Her misty eyes filled with disappointment. Something cracked inside him. He braced himself to wipe the tear. How many tender words, caressing touches, whispered promises would be needed to ever heal the hurt?

He felt the fury now, but that was his own, and against himself.

Stop it, Darcy! She could not care less…

He inhaled deeply. Indeed, only the worst of perspectives lay in front of him.

He paced the room to and fro till his thoughts regained their proper direction. The only thing he had was the memory of yesterday, the only hope - a clear sky tomorrow. He would not ruin the precious present with mistaken images of the past baffled with those of never-to-be.

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