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An Uncomfortable Conversation By Betsy R.Posted on Wednesday, 16 August 2006 Mr. Darcy and Mr. Bingley arrived at Longbourn to find the atmosphere somewhat subdued. Having never experienced this, especially since the wedding guests had arrived, the two gentlemen looked at each other with concern as Mrs. Hill guided them to the drawing room. Mary Bennet looked up from the book she was reading before standing to curtsey to her two brothers-to-be. She had become more familiar with the two men, and, unlike the rest of her family, she was more inclined to be comfortable with Lizzy’s fiancé. He was quiet and introspective, and she certainly felt more empathy for him. So, it was to him that she directed her remarks. “Kitty has gone with the Gardiners to visit my Aunt Phillips in Meryton. My other sisters are currently talking with our mother upstairs, sir. I do not believe they should be long. However, Papa is in the library, if you should would prefer to wait with him.” “No, no, Miss Mary. We will not put your father out,” replied Mr. Bingley enthusiastically. “What say you, Darcy?” Fitzwilliam Darcy smiled gently at Mary, understanding how difficult it was for her to be at ease with him and his friend, given her naturally bookish disposition. “Miss Bennet, may I ask what it is you are reading?” he asked, kindly. “It is a sermon by the late Charles Wesley. I find his works quite thought-provoking, though he is not of the Church of England,” she stated, awkwardly. “Yes, the Methodist movement is interesting, indeed…” As the two continued their intellectual conversation, Mr. Bingley removed himself to the window and stared over the small park outside Longbourn. It was this very unusual scene that Elizabeth Bennet quietly stumbled upon. Normally, it was her Mr. Darcy who was quietly and introspectively regarding the landscape, while Jane’s Mr. Bingley chatted comfortably with anyone in the room. When she perceived the topic of conversation, Elizabeth wryly understood Mr. Darcy’s interest and Mr. Bingley’s lack thereof. However, she was glad of the serious conversation, as it allowed her mind to calm from the most irreligious instruction she had just been given by her mother. Mr. Darcy, for his part, noticed Elizabeth the moment she walked in the room. He felt enlivened by her mere presence, and though he continued to converse with Mary, part of him was completely distracted by his lovely bride. He could see that she was filled with unease. Her beautiful, normally placid sister entered the room a moment later; her usually-content visage showed she was also ill at ease. Darcy was amused to see the flush in her cheeks fade to pale nervousness upon seeing her fiancé. Darcy suddenly had an idea of what the conversation with Mrs. Bennet had entailed. Knowing his future mother-in-law’s disposition, he politely ended his conversation with Mary and proposed a walk to the general company. Charles, Elizabeth, and Jane all readily agreed, but Mary deferred, wanting to study the sermon more with the insight that Mr. Darcy had given her in mind. The two couples rapidly donned their outerwear for the sunny November day. As they walked, Elizabeth and Darcy quickly outpaced Jane and Bingley. Indeed, Elizabeth walked unusually quickly, her agitated mind needing the exercise to work through her embarrassment. When they reached a place in the path that led to a secluded grove, Darcy guided his fiancée out of sight of any passers-by. Holding her arm in his, he firmly slowed their pace and looked into her eyes. “Elizabeth.” The way he said it conveyed so many things to her: trust, reliability, love, and desire. It was the last that had her squirming that morning. Her eyes widened, and she looked away in stunned confusion. “Elizabeth,” he repeated, putting his finger under her chin and gently raising her face back toward his. “You know you can talk to me about anything that is bothering you, beloved.” “Oh, I…” she was quite agitated and shook her head. “My mother, she talked to Jane and I, and…” she could not continue. Darcy sighed and guided them to a fallen tree. He courteously waited for her to sit down before seating himself. As he turned to her, he measured his words carefully, “Elizabeth, we will be married in just a few days. I assume that you mother has probably given you some… idea of what may occur between us, after we are married?” Elizabeth flushed again, nodding and biting her lip. She was so upset that Darcy knew he must somehow calm her, reassure her. He loved her more than he could possibly demonstrate, and to see her so agitated bothered him. “Elizabeth, darling, surely you must know. You must know I would never, never do anything to purposely hurt you. I promise that I will do all in my power to make what passes between us an act of love, not duty.” He didn’t know how much more he could say – he was certain what he had already said was beyond the limits of propriety. But he needed to help her. Elizabeth looked at him, stunned for a second, then laughed a nervous giggle. He was a bit taken aback by this. “You misunderstand, Fitzwilliam. I am not afraid of you… I know you would never hurt me.” “Then your mother, she did not frighten you…” he struggled for understanding. Lizzy saw Darcy’s concern and knew she had to explain – he would not let her go until she did. But how on earth would she explain…?! “My wonderful Mr. Darcy, I could never be frightened of you. I know that what we have is true and pure and that what happens between us will be natural… I just had no idea… oh my word. I do not know how to say this…” she sat quietly for some moments. “This cannot be! My Lizzy, lost for words?” Darcy teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Elizabeth sighed and gazed out through the trees. She could not look at him as she spoke of this. “My mother was rather… detailed about what would happen. And how it should happen. And how we could… oh, oh… let me just say that Lydia takes after our mother more than I ever understood, and leave it at that!” Elizabeth’s countenance, which was already flushed, became extremely ruddy, and she hastily stood and walked away, trying to recover from her embarrassment. Darcy stood, flummoxed, when her meaning penetrated his mind. He remembered the lascivious look in Lydia’s eye when he had found her and Wickham together in that room in London. She certainly had not looked… intimidated by what had surely occurred in that room. His brow, which had been furrowed quizzically smoothed as his eyes widened in stunned understanding. Then, schooling his features, he went to console his beautiful fiancée, turning the subject to more proper subjects. Some days later, Darcy smiled again, looking fondly down at his sleeping wife. She unabashedly clung to him in her sleep, her hair tumbled, her lips swollen. She looked not at all proper, yet had never looked so beautiful to him. He grinned, remembering that earlier conversation and their more recent… efforts and thought to himself that perhaps there was some consolation in having such a mother-in-law, after all. The End © 2006 Copyright held by the author. ...
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