Beginning, Section II
Jump to new as of May 10, 2001
Jump to new as of May 22, 2001
Jump to new as of June 1, 2001
In the light of the next morning, waking to the smell of cooking bacon, Elizabeth felt very differently about her situation. Remorse flooded over her - she had missed the birth of her sister's first child - her own first niece; and she had let slip her secret to yet another person. And she had let Darcy go last night without wishing him a good night. But he'd gone all strange and quiet on her again! Why did he keep doing that?
She dressed quickly - back in the comfortable old clothes she'd had for years, not the fashionable new ones she had been given for the mission - and went downstairs for breakfast. Breakfast was quiet and simple, and both her parents seemed to be nursing a hangover. Elizabeth laughed to herself, and, without thinking, lit a cigarette absently.
Her family stared at her. "Since when do you smoke?" asked Jane.
"Oh - er - Darcy introduced me to it. It's very soothing - you know - stress, and all that." She hid her eyes from her sister. "Yes, they say it's very good for you."
"Rubbish," her father muttered angrily. "Goes straight to the lungs and kills you slowly and painfully."
Elizabeth rather wondered at this, as her father was both a heavy drinker and a heavy smoker. She contented herself with musing aloud, "Better, perhaps, than dying in war as a young man," and took a deep puff with a sigh of contentment. "What's in the papers?"
Mrs. Bennet began to read aloud (in a very quiet voice) the story that had made front page that morning: "It says here that there's been some kind of problem for the Germans in France. Listen to this - 'The railway passing through Rouen to Paris was destroyed in an explosion two days ago, killing four German officers and demolishing two crate-loads of German ammunition. On consultation, military officials revealed that this was a mystery to them - they claimed not to have initiated this attack. Insiders say that the top level are keen to uncover the reason, but that they can only pleased by what has been such a hit to our enemy. One man said: "All we've been able to find out is that the local French Resistance group planted the explosives, managed by an agent whom we believe was operating from Paris itself. Naturally we're eager that the identity of this person be revealed, as they have acted at great personal cost and ought to be rewarded for their valour." However, another interviewee thought differently: "In any war, there are spies on both sides, and this, as I'm sure we all understand, is no different. This act should not be viewed as a special act of heroism - this is a clear case of one of our agents taking the law into their own hands and acting as pleased themselves. They ought to have consulted HQ if they had any ideas for action, but went ahead with their plan without its being approved. It's a dark day for mankind when we cannot control our own impulses. All attempts are being made to make clear the identity of the culprit and bring them to justice." This paper is in full support of the unknown agent - every blow that Germany sustains is a blow struck for liberty, equality, and justice, and there ought to be no punishment for that."' And there's a little picture here; it says it's of the train after the explosion." Mrs. Bennet turned the page, excited at the thought of having one over those Germans (after all, they weren't allowed to marry British women, so what use were they to her daughters?), but heartily bored by all this talk of death and destruction so far away on the Continent.
Elizabeth went cold. What had she been thinking? What a fool - what a blind, stupid fool she was. Vain, too. Had she really thought she could get away with that? She kept up a pretence of being perfectly well, and having nothing to worry her, but she could see that Jane had realised through the pallor of her brow, and Mary had looked up from her book to regard Elizabeth. Mr. Bennet, also, was staring at her intently. She went on eating her breakfast regardless.
Just then the phone rang, and she jumped up to answer it. "Hello, Elizabeth Bennet?"
"Good morning. - Darcy here."
"How could I mistake that voice?"
"Did you see the papers? It's on every front page of every paper on London. You've made it big, Elizabeth."
"Don't even joke about it. I'm in serious trouble."
"Trouble? You're kidding. I got a call from Collins this morning - he loved it! Everybody at HQ loved it! You did good, kid."
"Really? Well, I only did it for her - she paid me for it, you know."
"£5, I think you said?"
"Pathetic, isn't it? I'll charge more next time. Not that there's going to be a next time!" She laughed easily, her spirits rising so quickly that she didn't notice his silence. "Listen, what are you doing today?"
"Hopefully getting ready for my big date tonight."
"Hmm. Is there something you're not telling me?"
"How'd you like to come out to our café again? You an bring some others along, if you like - a sort of a celebration, if you will." His voice was tense when he spoke of inviting some others to come. Elizabeth wondered what he had planned.
"It's 'our' café now, is it?"
"I can't think of it without thinking of you. That's where I first held you by the hand - and where we went the night before we left - where we first danced together - and where I introduced you to living like a woman should, not like a little girl, which was your previous style."
"Oh, really? You mean giving me a packet of cigarettes and buying me a drink?"
"That's the ticket."
"OK, you won me over. I'll bring a little party along with me, if that's OK. Wait till you see me in that dress."
"I look forward to it," he announced softly. "See you there about eight. OK?"
"Great. Bye." She put the phone down and sat down to finish her breakfast, her spirits fully returned. "That was Darcy. He's invited us all to go to this café tonight at eight. May we go, mamma?"
"Of course. Dear Mr. Darcy...! But, mind, we mustn't say anything about that just yet - he's a very shy man, and might be offended if we - "
"If we publish the banns just yet," Elizabeth finished dryly. "Jane, will you and Charles come?"
"Of course. After all - we ought to celebrate: we took your advice, Lizzy, and - we've settled a date for the wedding," Jane told her with a blush.
"That's terrific! Oh, I'm so happy for you. When's the happy day to be?"
"We're thinking that a Christmas wedding will be nice. Mamma wants a Christmas wedding - she says it'll give you and Darcy a chance." Jane smiled knowingly at their mother, who was nodding resolutely as she ate her boiled egg. "It'll be nice to have you home for it, Lizzy. Oh my goodness - Mary, look at the time!"
Mary calmly put aside her book and followed Jane out of the house on their way to work. Elizabeth was about to follow them when her father motioned for her to stay. "Don't go anywhere - I want you in my study. Come on." He pulled her away, and she had no choice but to obey him, following him to his study and sitting down in front of his desk. He paced the room, obviously quarrelling with himself over something, for some minutes, before suddenly banging his hands down on the desk and crying, "It won't do, child, it just won't do. I can't think of any delicate way in which to put this to you. Elizabeth, I put it to you that your Mr. Darcy is a spy - yes, a spy, young lady - and that you are his paramour."
Elizabeth blanched at his words. "What?" she cried incredulously, almost laughing.
"You may think this very amusing, but believe me, you aren't going to get away as easily as you think you will. I know what you're about - you went with him to Paris when he made that raid on the German trains. Where else would you have got those French gifts? French champagne, French dresses, French perfume - it's all so blindingly obvious now! Last night I could think of no reason why you should have gone to France, or why you should have such vast quantities of money - but now I know your secret. This morning, you quite gave yourself away when your mother read out that heavily sensational article - you were clearly involved in it, I thought to myself. And then it occurred to me - why should such a man as Darcy, a strong and physically capable man, be exempt from the army? Why should he work in the WRAF, as he seemed to, with you? Now, I understand it - he is a secret agent for the government, and you, attracted by his qualities of physique and employment - the romance involved in a job like that - went with him, to become what I can only describe as his 'kept woman'."
Mr. Bennet looked as if he might explode - and at that thought, Elizabeth's mind flashed back to the sound of her mother's voice reading the article.
'...killing four German officers...'
'...demolishing two crate-loads of German ammunition...'
'All things of which he is ignorant,' she thought, and could not conceal such a look of contempt that was written all over her face, as clearly warned him that he had made a mistaken premise. "How dare you, sir? You have disregarded all the honour and privacy of a lady by delving time and again into my personal life - you have betrayed me by distrusting my word time and again - and now you have lowered yourself to a point of no redemption. When you accuse your own daughter of acting in such a way - of being a - a woman of the town - then I shudder to think what your opinion of society in general must be. When you cannot trust the person who has been your confidante and most trusting companion since her birth, I think you must live a lonely life indeed. I'm sorry to burst your bubble, so to speak, but I cannot let you delude yourself any further. I...am...a...member...of...the...W...R...A...F.... Now I'm off out into town to look for a job. If you want anything, don't hesitate to go and get it yourself. Better luck next time, papa," she finished bitterly as she stormed out.
Half an hour of walking about London soothed her temper, as well as the memory of Darcy's caring voice over the phone, and his kind invitation for the rest of her family to join him. Once again, she mused, she found herself seeking a job, this time safe in the knowledge that, should she happen to bump into Darcy, it would be for her own sake, and not for that of her country.
Elizabeth sat in front of her mirror, staring at her reflection. It was just beginning to become clear to her how much she'd changed over the past few weeks. Psychologically, there was a strange combination of her old cheerful, friendly self, with the familiar hot-headed spark - and something else. It felt like there were two people inside her, each clamouring for attention. A sort of dry cynicism - a propensity to hate things with a passion. And a terrible fear that loomed up inside her and every mention of France, Germany, or trains. It was becoming difficult to think clearly when people mentioned those words, and her sleep was haunted by fragments of her taunting memory, enlarging the devils that chased her, adding colour to her dreams. Red - bright red - blood red. Swirls of scarlet and russet flitted before her closed eyes, making her afraid of the dark.
And she was changed physically, too. She'd lost weight, she noticed. Come to think of it, how much had she eaten in France? Not a lot. The only meal she could remember was the one she'd shared with Darcy on her last day in Paris. But more than that - there was something in her eyes that her sister didn't like to see: a darkness that hadn't been there before. That same cynicism - that same fear. Her eyes had lost their brightness.
But she looked good in her dress. A bit too good, she thought with a slight smile. She would attract attention - but not in the right way. People would probably be angry that the Bennet sisters were wearing such blatantly black market clothes. But Darcy would understand, and that was all that mattered.
There was a light tap at her door. "Lizzy, it's half-past seven. If you want some time alone with Darcy, perhaps you should leave now. Mary and I will stall mamma."
"Is papa coming?" she called.
"No."
'What a relief,' Elizabeth thought, standing up and going to the door. "How do I look, Jane?"
Her sister was still wearing her working clothes - tight sweater and straight skirt in neutral colours. The contrast between their appearances was magnified by the sight of Elizabeth in her stunning dress - but there were greater contrasts within. "You look so lovely. How long till I hear that Darcy is to be my brother?"
"Jane, you're as bad as mamma. I've only known him a couple of months, and tonight is our first official date - if you can call bringing the family along 'official'."
"But you've been through so much together - you've outlived it all - surely there's something special in that? Come on - you'll have to get away immediately, or mamma will be after you. Come on." Jane pulled her downstairs in careful silence, and then opened the front door and pushed her out onto the doorstep.
"This is a nice goodbye!" protested Elizabeth, grabbing her handbag on her way out.
"It's for your own good," Jane announced. "Mamma wants us all to go together, but I thought you might not want that. However, if you do, I'll be more than glad to fetch her - "
"No! - No, that won't be necessary. Thank you, dearest." Elizabeth turned away with an affectionate smile, and began to walk to the café. Inevitably her thoughts returned to their usual track - her infatuation with Darcy.
Why did she have such strong feelings for him? Was it, as Jane had said, because they shared that special time together? At any rate, she couldn't get him out of her head, and had begun to think quite unmaidenly thoughts about him that would have infuriated her father, had he known.
She was aroused by the new images that would enter her mind - the strange feelings that pushed her into thinking about him all the time - the drives, the impulses that she could not control. It did not occur to her to be scared of them: it was just part of the new self that he had opened up for her.
And now, she was on her way to spend an entire evening with him. Who knew whether...a saucy smile played on her lips as she felt that by now familiar drive again...she might get to spend the night with him as well? As Jane had said, there was something special about them. Why not let it...mature?
She saw him walking towards her, and, in an unusual burst of affection, ran towards him and flung herself into his arms crying, "Darling, it's so good to see you!"
"What on earth did I do to deserve a greeting like that? Get off me, you sentimental woman." Yet Darcy did not push her away - rather, he kept her close to him in his arms.
"You appeared just when I was thinking about you. You have a habit of doing that," she added accusingly.
"What can I say? I'm clairvoyant. I realise that you're going to be thinking about me, and I run out of my house and race out to meet you. Anyway, you're early, so don't blame me. You've completely ruined my plans now. I was going out to get you some flowers, but you intercepted me."
"Can't I come with you and choose them, now that I've had the good fortune to find you?" she begged.
Darcy observed her quietly, as with a blush she disengaged herself from his embrace. "I'm sorry, I just - umm - my thoughts were - umm - bloody hell - " Her blushes increased, and she could not look at him.
"Never mind. You obviously don't want to share your thoughts, and something tells me I wouldn't want to hear them anyway. Come on, lady fair with the evil tongue, I'll escort you to the flower shop." And he took her arm and led her down the road.
'What's going on?' Elizabeth wondered in mortification. "These mood swings are getting ridiculous. One minute I'm depressed, the next I'm feeling incredibly...rude. And then suddenly I turn into his puppy and cling onto his arm. Ugh! It's enough to make a person sick. Well, never mind - I'm going to have a good time now, and not think about that till tomorrow. I've got better things to think about.' Unconsciously she smiled that naughty smile again, and relaxed on his arm, never even noticing the difference.
But Darcy noticed, and he wondered at it as he stared down at the beauty on his arm.
The rest of the evening was all that Elizabeth could have wished for. Her family kept themselves to themselves, and Jane and Bingley seemed happy entertaining them and keeping them away from Darcy. He was as attentive and affectionate an escort as ever Elizabeth could desire. As they danced slowly to a romantic song, he smiled and murmured,
"You look so beautiful in that dress, you know. I could barely control myself when you ran into my arms earlier on."
Elizabeth flushed and looked away. "I'm sorry about that," she murmured. "I - was feeling a bit strange."
"Hey." He gently pulled her face back to the front, facing him. "I liked it. Feel free to run into my embrace any time you like. Anyway, we were talking about how incredibly lovely you are."
Elizabeth smiled dryly. "Hmm. As we were coming in I heard a couple of women talking about me, and one of them said: 'Some people forget there's a war on'."
Darcy laughed shortly. "I doubt they've made quite as many sacrifices as you." He grew more serious, and they danced in silence for some minutes. At length he went on, in a subdued voice, "I heard a poem once, and when I got home last night I looked it up and thought of you. I learnt it so I could recite it to you. - May I?" After waiting for her assent, he cleared his throat, and began:
"The life that I have
Is all that I have
And the life that I have is yours.
The love that I have
Of the life that I have
Is yours and yours and yours.
A sleep I shall have
A rest I shall have
Yet death will be but a pause.
For the peace of my years in the long green years
Will be yours and yours and yours."
"Elizabeth," he whispered, "I love you."
Elizabeth thought of all the uncertainty that had haunted her since that first day on which she discovered Mr. Collins' true profession; of the hesitation that was marked in her conversations with her own family; of the dubious nature of her relationship with Darcy. But here was something that she suddenly could not doubt. She stopped dancing and rested her hands on his chest. "Fitzwilliam..." She paused, swallowed, and started again: "I...love you too."
"I'm so glad," he replied with a tender smile; but his expression was tinged with fear and grief. "Elizabeth - my dearest, my loveliest Elizabeth - my feelings for you weren't the only reason I read that poem. There's - oh God...there's another mission. Collins and I agree that you're perfect for it. This time - it would be so much more dangerous than the last." He breathed out raggedly. "Please tell me what you're thinking."
Elizabeth was speechless at first; but her anger soon found its voice, at first in just a single word: "S**t." Then: "So that's why you brought me here, and told me you loved me? So that you could use me in your mission?"
"No, no, it wasn't like that - "
"You astonish me," she announced coldly.
"Collins contacted me at about lunchtime today - he told me then to come and see me, and in the meeting explained about this new - reason for my meeting up with you. But I'd already planned this - already phoned you and asked you to come and even to bring your family." He saw that tears were threatening, and led her to the balcony.
As soon as they were out of sight she pulled her arm away roughly. "How can you do this to me?" she sobbed, not knowing what she was saying in the extent of her distress. "All the things you've done to me already - all the things that happened to me on my other mission - the one you promised would be my last - weren't they torturous enough? You claim to love me, but do you? Perhaps you love what you've made me into. I guess that makes one of us."
"What do you mean?" he asked in confusion.
"Look at me, Darcy! I drink, I smoke, I swear - Jesus, I even hoped that tonight I'd make love to man who isn't even my fiancé!" She paced the balcony angrily, throwing him contemptuous looks as she went on: "And, of course, let's not forget your abominable behaviour towards my family."
"What do you mean, 'abominable behaviour'?" he asked heatedly.
"Don't you even realise it? Your arrogant behaviour towards them - your conceit - your stiff coolness whenever another human being comes within fifty feet of you."
"Just because I don't blurt all my secrets out to the first people I happen to see - "
"Oh, that's what this is all about. You hate me for telling Jane and Mary about my secret job. Well, I'm sorry - but someone told me I would never have to worry about going way again. I was so giddy - so light-headed - I thought I'd never have to leave again - s**t," she murmured sharply, turning away as the tears became unstoppable.
"I flatter myself, I'm not quite as bad as you make me sound," he muttered icily: "I may not be naturally gregarious by nature, which means that I find it hard to talk to strangers, but why should you hold that against me? I have no desire to tell my secrets - and those of other people - to all the people that I meet in my everyday life. Elizabeth, the reason I opened myself up to you is because I thought you were the one person I know who understood me - really understood me. You're the first woman I've ever let myself fall in love with since I became involved with the SOE - I thought it would be safe. I've always thought that a man should be close to the woman he loves - should tell her everything. If I took a wife who was not part of the SOE, I knew I wouldn't be able to tell her everything, and that would tear me up inside.
"That's why I never get close to strangers - what's the point when I could never truly make friends with them? I have very few friends, as I always make a point of being completely open with them, which is impossible with almost all of the people I meet. I thought you would be different - I thought we could have something special - I thought you would understand why I put people off as I do. I suppose I was wrong." Unable to watch her cry any more, he left straight after that, storming away from her and not stopping to speak to her concerned family.
Elizabeth was sobbing her heart out in a crumpled mess on the floor of the balcony. Why had she said all those hateful things? She hadn't meant them - it was just the stress of the moment. And now he hated her. She wanted to go after him, but a fear of what he would say and a feeling of weak stupidity at her not understanding him as well as she thought she did, prevented her from moving.