Posted on Saturday, 8 May 2004

The sounds of wooden balls crashing against one another from down the hallway drew a somewhat confused Elizabeth. She had just removed herself from Jane's sick room with all the encouragement her dear ill sister could muster to one determined not to leave her side for an evening of amusement.

A man servant had informed Elizabeth of the party being in the main parlor, but neglected to point her in the direction of said room, so Elizabeth was left to her own devices to negotiate various hallways to locate it. She had only been to Netherfield once as a child, and even these few days abiding here had given her little knowledge of its unique lay out of rooms and passageways. The noise down the hall attracted her attention, but upon entering she found the very person she had no desire to see, for Mr. Darcy was alone partaking in the game of billiards.

Only a silent stare passed between them before she hurriedly vacated the room to continue her search for the parlor, chiding herself that perhaps she should have swallowed her pride and asked the man servant to accompany her. She would rather that than ask the sanctimonious Mr. Darcy the same request, for she was sure he would have made some snide remark of her being devoid of any sense in discernment of direction.

But had she stayed to view the look he gave her retreating form, she would have wondered at his thoughts that were so different from her deductions.

Gazing at the now empty doorway, his mind still envisioned her there, dressed in a cream colored frock that shimmered in the candle light, reflecting upon her alabaster skin; her lips the color of the roses in the gardens of Pemberley and forming an perfect "0". Those eyes that sparkled with such surprise as she beheld his transfixed him. And when she turned to depart, her dark curls bounced upon her slender neck that must be as soft as rose petals-

At last feeling those emotions rise that every man possesses when viewing the delights of a member of the opposite sex, he swallowed and came to his senses once more.

Good Lord! What am I doing?

Self recriminations invaded his mind for even having such thoughts of someone so below his station, so without any recommendations to put her forward in society other than her charms.

This will not do. I will not allow my baser instincts to rule me!

With indignation he attacked a billiard ball with such force that it clanked loudly upon entering the pockets at the corners of the table. He swore an oath.

She will not invade my thoughts again.

He attacked a second ball, then a third, an a fourth until all were cleanly removed from the top of the green felted tabletop.

He sighed, wondering if he would be missed if he decided not to join the rest of the party for an evening of boredom from the Hursts and fending off the advances of the ever insipid Miss Bingley. How he tired of that kind of behavior, but she was Bingley's sister after all, and Darcy felt obliged to bear her determined albeit hopeless endeavors to accommodate his friend while remaining in his household.

At least Miss Bennet refuses to act in the same vapid manner as does Miss Bingley.

For as truth would have it, her behavior was quite the opposite. She always braved his displeasure, and never allowed his statements to go unchallenged. And he had to own that some of her reflections were logical and sensible though not in agreement with his.

She must be well read to enable her to voice such opinions, and have a superior intellect to comprehend and argue such philosophical points.

Finding himself again thinking on her other attributes while leaning heavily on the cue stick, he quit his thoughts, throwing the stick upon the table with disgust at his inability to keep her from his mind.

This is not to be borne! I refuse to be conquered in this manner!

Reaching at last for his coat, he donned it, closing it over the polished brass buttons, and admitted as he straightened the front, smoothing out the wrinkles,

I can admire her attributes. There is nothing wrong in that, for such thoughts are natural for any man.

But he vowed further, his fortitude certain, as rigid now as his back.

But I will do so from afar, and not be pulled into anymore debates with her to give rise to more admiration. She will have not that power over me. I will not allow it.

He removed himself from the billiards room and strode determinedly down the hallway toward the main parlor, only to note the scent of lavender that still linger about. He set his jaw.

My convictions are fixed now and are unchangeable. She will be gone soon enough to give me peace from all her charms.

He paused at the door to the parlor and sighed. It was as though he were about to do battle from two fronts it seemed, one from Miss Bingley and now from his own thoughts as well.

But with a firm resolve, he opened the door with the deportment of deceptive calm.

Upon entry, he was immediately accosted by Miss Bingley's "Oh Mr. Darcy! We had almost given you up."
His eyes searched the room until they came upon her, seated on a couch, reading.

Of course.

He calmly approached only to ask of her sister's health. She ventured a gaze and responded with a succinct answer.

"A little better, thank you."

With his mask firmly in place he gazed about the room and decided the safest seat was at the desk where he began to think on how to pen a second letter this week to his sister.

Dear Georgiana, you will never believe what I have to relate...No!