Love Calls Again Read online

  Why did he have to ruin all? Could he not have exercised his well known self discipline? After all, he was used to self-deprivation. Had he not stubbornly refused lying with a fairly young courtesan, whose attentions had been generously provided by his father on the occasion of his sixteenth birthday? Had he not refrained from unleashing his needs then, he would at least have known what proper release meant. But the sickness caused by his father's best intended gift so early in his lifetime, added to utter repulsion for the ill-reputed behaviour of the Prince Regent had triggered in him a rather uncommon attitude towards the fair sex. Hence, Darcy had adhered to the noble sentiments reflected in the scriptures and vowed solemnly to refrain from lust and fornication. Thus influenced by such romantic and chaste notions, inevitably untouched by his sickly bride, Mr Darcy had remained very much like a rich, moist creamed cake in a served feast whose participants had failed to show. But, oh! What temptation it bestowed!

  After his thirty-third birthday and in the prime of widowhood he had accepted the fact of his celibacy, only to be confronted with unpredicted lust emanating from the unrestrained lips of a young woman on his hand. Preposterous as it was, the impertinent persistence from the female side at relieving his grief had awoken the natural instincts of his numbed manhood. Still, after so many years of severe self-deprivation, he conceded that this sensation was not unknown to him; perchance a bit unsettling and definitely embarrassing, yet not unwelcome. In a way it made him feel alive, young, unbelievably young.

  His butler interrupted his deep thinking.

  "Mr. Darcy. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley wish to see you sir."

  Now Darcy encountered a friendly smile he recognized. Charles Bingley, his old friend, was being ushered to his presence. Bingley's lovely wife, Jane, was tagging along behind. It was a good time since they had last seen each other, Darcy having almost resigned their friendship due to the torture that such connection would have inflicted upon him. For Bingley's wife was none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sister.

  "I thank you for coming," Darcy gave a little curt bow with his head.

  "I am awfully sorry, Darcy. I should have called on you ages ago." Bingley's eyes showed sincere concern as he spoke.

  "I am sure we would have definitely called upon each other had our circumstances not prevented us from doing so. Do not let the past events unsettle you, my friend!" Darcy sighed and then as though as if talking to himself, "This certainly is an unpleasant moment for everyone, though I dare say it was hardly unexpected."

  "Mr. Darcy," a familiar gentle voice said. "Pray, allow me to express my most sincere condolences. I would be honoured if you allowed me to pay any assistance regarding Mrs. Darcy's preparation for burial?"

  Darcy turned his gaze onto the woman who had spoken the words. Upon reflecting on her beautiful complexion, Darcy immediately wondered if her sister had remained quite so fresh and young as Jane had transparently done. Unexpectedly, upon thinking of Elizabeth, his pulse quickened.

  "I thank you, but you need not bother, Mrs. Bingley. Everything has already been seen to," he said to her. "I appreciate your kind words, and the trouble you have imposed upon yourselves in coming all this way to offer your services."

  "Not at all, Mr. Darcy. It is up to us to show you our appreciation. You see, sir, nothing could be too grand for us when it comes to show you the depth of our gratitude for your previous kindness towards our family. 'Tis so sad that such an opportunity has befallen under these circumstances."

  Darcy was speechless. He had assumed his intervention in Wickham's affair had not reached the Bingleys. He stared at Mrs. Bingley as though he was watching an ethereal apparition. After some awkward silence, she resumed the conversation.

  "I was fortunate enough to meet Mrs. Darcy while she was still unmarried upon a visit I paid to my cousin Mr. Collins. She was a charming person."

  Again Darcy did not answer. He nodded thankfully and looked down to his feet. He could not think what to say to her. Then it dawned on him he could inquire after her family. Looking into her eyes, he asked politely. She answered all his inquires with a peaceful smile, referring first to her parents, breaking the news of Mary and Catherine being married and living in London and then attempting to sound casual, she added the most unsettling news Darcy had received in a decade.

  "My sister Elizabeth is in good health, too. Surely she will very soon arrive. She had offered to help me in case you accepted my assistance."

  He had never expected that. His heart sank but his face remained impassive, so strong was his self-control. Though the overwhelming news of Elizabeth's theoretical proximity had completely undone him, he battled fiercely against the consuming feeling until his chest nearly burst inside.

  Unprepared to unsettling sentiments such as these, his heart gave a sudden jerk and he almost lost his balance. Was it utter fear or joy? He found himself out of breath and shook his head in an unsuccessful attempt to regain composure. Restless, a sudden urge to go in her quest flooded his soul. He endeavoured to bridle his emotions lest her sister noticed his discomfiture but to no avail. Thus, in a conscious attempt to restrain the latter, in lieu of bringing their conversation about her family back, he chose to finish it. Hence, he welcomed his butler's intervention.

  "Mr. Darcy", the voice of Ponsonby coughed his name. "A Mrs. Dashwood, a Miss Dashwood and a Miss Dashwood wish to see you, sir."

  "Thank you Ponsonby."

  "Mr. Darcy", Ponsonby interjected again, "Also a Mrs. Hughes, a Miss Hughes and…"

  "Thank you Ponsonby. I shall be with them in a few minutes." The stiff butler gave a swift bow and, stepping backwards, exited the room.

  Darcy turned to Bingley again.

  "I shall go downstairs." he sighed. "I shall not allow people to think I am the kind of man who cannot abide his wife's death," he added with a timid smile.

  "Indeed, I must confess that your staying in the music room might cause 'some' people to think ill of you Darcy!" said Bingley smiling back at him.

  The Bingleys joined him to face the callers, but Darcy maintained a resolution to keep himself close to his friends. He imagined their proximity would help him face Elizabeth. After dismissing Miss Hughes, he assumed his usual taciturn disposition. Clasping his hands behind his back and straightening it, he surveyed the room without much inconvenience. His height was a definite advantage.

  Much to his disappointment, Elizabeth was nowhere to be seen. As his gaze danced over the several faces, Darcy wondered if he had failed to spot her. He had been sure he could discern Elizabeth Bennet anywhere. Was it possible that she should have changed so much that he had failed to recognize her? Little by little, a distressing thought slowly trickled into his mind. It began to dawn on him, his scarcity of any intelligence about her recent past life. He did not know for certain whether she was still single. He had a faint idea he had once overheard Anne talking about her spinsterhood with her mother. But that had been three years ago. Her marital state might have very well changed since then.

  On second thought he realized her marital state meant nothing. She must not love him. No, not any more. Not after what had transpired that night in London. Quite the contrary, she must hate him. After all, it was his own fault Elizabeth had been compelled to retire from society to the solitude of her sister's house in Netherfield. Yes, she must despise him. Suddenly he wished her appearance had changed. Yes, those would be most reassuring thoughts. An ugly and obese Elizabeth stomping her way to greet him, fat and wrinkled. Though even worse, sweaty and gravid, surrounded by a handful of unruly and whimpering progeny. Darcy let out a snort as he dismissed the absurdity of such an idea.

  Unconvinced as he was of her lost attractiveness, such fancy of her animosity did disturb him considerably. But then again, if she hated him, why bother to come all over from Longbourn to condole with him and attend to Anne's shroud? Certainly she had no reason to pay such a service for his wife. She was no relative of hers, nor a friend whatsoever. What motives could have impell
ed Elizabeth to come? Was it possible that she wished to see him? After all these years? Perchance over these past years she had changed her mind and regretted having rejected him with that bitter letter. This idea was much more appealing than the previous one; a repentant, beautiful Elizabeth, surrendering at his feet. Slender and graceful, virginal purity her greatest attribute; the Elizabeth of this reverie was exerting such raptures over him that he could hardly contain himself.

  The complexity of his feelings was having a devastating effect on his loins. Thus an overpowering tension had hold of his body. Concupiscent emotions notwithstanding, he understood the deepest love had enforced them. Yet he recognized the impossibility of an immediate release for his suffering masculinity. He wheeled his mind to abandon further daydreaming over Elizabeth. He was compelled to go in her quest; he couldn't just remain idle and motionless. Besides, the exertion would help him cool his breeches. Surely he must do something about that! He excused himself from company and proceeded to survey the room only to face that the house, cluttered as it was with ladies, posed a real challenge to the eye. The visitors, clad in mourning attire, though now slackening in number, reminded the beholder of a flock of black sheep.

  Whatever is this crowd doing still here? Have I not talked to all of them yet? It will be dark in a few minutes; surely they are not expecting to be treated to supper. Is Elizabeth over there? No, no, that is Miss Tilney.

  Darcy began to lose hope. Though still uncertain about what he would do once in her company, he persisted in his chase. Here and there his heart would give a mad leap at the sight of a familiar figure, only to find Mrs. such and such and her unmarried daughter, instead of Elizabeth. He must summon the servants and instruct them to dismiss the callers. But then again, what if she had not arrived yet and was refused admittance? He was at terrible odds at what to do.

  Elizabeth… Oh Elizabeth! What have you done to me! His mind raced as he paused to think of the uproarious absurdity of his immediate past actions. Not a moment before, in a complete abandonment of his innermost principles, he had been aroused at the simple touch of a woman's lips on his bare skin. Even worse, the mere reflection of Elizabeth's presence awoke every tissue in his manhood. Now he was in a most frantic search for her! He was not a hundred percent certain she was there or why she was there and still he could not refrain from looking for her. His wife's shroud was not yet laid, yet women were literally throwing themselves into his arms, whilst he was already looking for the only one who had restrained from doing so! His entire world had gone upside down. He must have gone mad. What was happening to him? What was happening to all these people? Had they lost all sense of decorum and civility?

  Still it could not be helped. The unrestrained pull of his heart, which had once led him into dangerous waters, was definitely a winner over his soul-made convictions, carrying him helplessly to this mad hunt. Unfortunately, after he had thoroughly searched the two main rooms, a much defeated soul, Darcy made his way out to the gardens.

  It was beginning to rain.

  Good weather for a wake. It suited his innermost feelings. He walked randomly in the rain until he reached the gazebo. He had been there not ten minutes when he heard a familiar voice calling his name.

  Three

  —

  On How a Good Man Can Lose His Principles upon the Look a Lady's Eyes Can Bestow

  5 years before at Rosings Park

  The good Colonel had endured enough long sleepless nights in London, listening to Darcy's amorous sorrows, to be certain of his cousin's infatuation for Miss Bennet. Tender endearments would drift from how well Miss Bennet played the piano forte, passing to her gracious movements, her gorgeous figure and her sparkling wit, ending in the possible implications of every step she would take whilst in his company. Did he think she had purposely bestowed that look upon him? Had he mentioned the manner in which she had pursed her lips when conversing with him? Was he of the opinion she might have been biting her lower lip to give him encouragement? She was so tempting… and so on and so forth.

  In the end the Colonel met her upon the yearly visit both Darcy and Fitzwilliam paid to Lady Catherine De Bourgh. Upon their entrance to Rosings Park, Darcy heard of her presence in the nearby parsonage, and immediately rushed to the place to call on the unhappy parson and his visitors, tagging his cousin along with him. He had never seen the fellow behave in such an outrageous manner for the sake of a lady. In fact, he had never known him to seek any lady's favours in his life. Such an urge to pay a visit to so unpleasant a character as Mr. Collins, for the mere reason of his fair relative's presence, could have only one explanation. Undoubtedly, Darcy was utterly besotted. Fitzwilliam could hardly wait to see the beauty that held such a fierce grip on his cousin's passion. For that was the only plausible explanation for Darcy's uncommon demeanour.

  Only she was not the kind of beauty he had expected.

  They found both Mrs. Collins' visitors had just arrived from an excursion. As Darcy unsuccessfully struggled to make the appropriate introduction, the Colonel took the opportunity to bestow a thorough regard on the lady. He felt quite free to do so, as he did not find her all that attractive, nor was he seeking her favours.

  On the one hand, and on quick inspection, Miss Bennet was a fairly handsome lady, though she was rather short and dark. Darcy was of such an imposing height, the Colonel could do nothing but laugh at the idea of their match. On the other hand, and on closer inspection now, he conceded her to be the owner of a remarkably good figure. Further perusals persuaded him of certain other features in her favour. Not only did she have a delicate, uncommonly brilliant complexion but also regular features and exceptionally playful eyes. In having the right height she could have made a very attractive vision to a gentleman's eye. She was definitely not outstandingly handsome, but he conceded her smile to be sweet and attractive, and her eyes, which were very dark, he found possessors of the most lively spirit he had ever beheld in any young lady of his acquaintance.

  Only when he had finished his inspection did he realize Darcy that had, after uttering a much too short salutation and introduction, secluded himself on a seat in the farthest corner of the room. After bestowing a confused look of disbelief to his cousin, Fitzwilliam concluded that he was unable to stand his ground in front of this woman. Noticing Darcy's discomfiture, he peeked again at Miss Bennet's countenance trying to discover the reason for his cousin's whimsical reaction. In seeing nothing but a rather displeased look upon her face, he surmised that Miss Bennet was not at all pleased to see Darcy.

  In the face of such an estimation, the Colonel's puzzlement was not superior to his curiosity. Hence, his determination to discover if such was the case. With that purpose in mind, he sat on an opposite chair and began a tête a tête with her. Whilst the following conversation might be well known to some of us, the implications related to it are not so.

  "Delighted to make your acquaintance at last!" Fitzwilliam beamed at her.

  "At last, sir?"

  "I have heard much of you, and the praise has not been exaggerated at all, I assure you."

  "I can well believe that," said Elizabeth Bennet in disbelief. "Mr. Darcy is my severest critic." Her eyes opened wide as she said these words, and she smiled broadly at her interlocutor. Fitzwilliam noticed her mouth was delicately drawn in her face, and the lower lip was every now and then caught by her upper teeth in a very sensual tic.

  What is she doing with her lips?

  "I hope we shall see you frequently at Rosings." He tried to sound inviting, knowing it was just what his cousin was dying to say, but for some extraordinary reason yet to be discovered was in no disposition to utter. "I am fond of lively conversation," he finished.

  Miss Bennet cast a playful look at Darcy and smirked. "This you do not find at Rosings Park?" she added, almost laughing at her mischievous joke. As her gaze danced upon his face, he could not help noticing the glow in her dark brown eyes. Hence, his understanding of his cousin's bewilderment for the la
dy.

  Is it possible that she is flirting with me? Good Lord! She is! Should I welcome her forwardness? Well, why not? What is wrong with some flirtation? After all she is not engaged and Darcy certainly is!

  They continued conversing in the same manner quite oblivious to their company, obviously enjoying relative comradeship which did not pass ignored by a certain gentleman. Darcy had been eyeing the two of them in envious contemplation, his gaze being the source of a flick of restlessness in Elizabeth.

  "Can you tell me why Mr. Darcy keeps staring at me? What do you think offends him?"

  What does she mean offends him? Mmmm. I gather this young lady is completely unaware of Darcy's besottedness for her. I dare say she does not feel at all comfortable with him. Conversely, she seems to be enjoying my company very well. And she is very handsome. No, no, she is not handsome. She is… bewitching."

  Fitzwilliam found himself inevitably smiling at his assessment but could not find a good answer to her question without betraying his cousin to her. Still, he was astonished at Darcy's awkwardness. Surely he could not be harbouring any serious attachment towards the lady. On the one hand he was aware of Darcy's betrothal to Anne De Bourgh and on the other Miss Bennet was clearly beneath his prospects regarding matrimonial alliances. Of course he could not blame his cousin for seeking some diversion in the face of such a withered prospect for a wife.

  Just then, in an impetuous manner, Darcy rose from his seat, and strode towards them looking very much a man with a purpose. Elizabeth directed her eyes at him in clear expectation of his address whilst he, unable to utter a word, towered over her in an imperial pose.

  "I hope your family is in good health," he said stupidly in the end.

  Fitzwilliam looked at the dumb figure of his cousin in mystification. He seemed completely at loss for words."Good Lord. It took him so long to finally master such a stupid statement".