Chaos Comes to Longbourn by Victoria Kincaid

Author:Victoria Kincaid
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: mr darcy, elizabeth bennet, pemberley, sharon lathan, jane austen fan fiction, jaff, pride and prejudice variation, jane austen variation, abigail reynolds, linda berdoll
Publisher: Victoria Kincaid

Chapter Twelve

Lydia took Darcy’s arm as they left the dance floor. She held her head high, scanning the crowd, no doubt to ensure that others noticed who escorted her.

“Will you give me a ring?” she asked, not removing her eyes from the surrounding revelers. Darcy did not respond. “A ring for our engagement? That would be very handsome of you.”

“I had not given it much thought,” he replied truthfully, massaging the back of his neck where a headache threatened to appear.

Lydia bestowed a brilliant smile on a young man they passed. “I think presenting a ring to one’s fiancée is a lovely tradition. They say rings symbolize the eternity of our love.”

Darcy tried to prevent the laughter that bubbled up in his throat; instead, it emerged as a rather strangled gasp. Fortunately, Lydia inhabited her own world and did not notice. “I would dearly love a ring,” Lydia continued. “Then I could show it to my friends, and they would know you really did plan to marry me.”

So much for the eternity of love.

“There is Maria Lucas!” Lydia exclaimed and dragged him over to a girl a year or two older than she. “Maria, this is Mr. Darcy, my fiancé. He owns Pimbersly in Derbyshire and is worth ten thousand a year.” Darcy cringed inwardly.

Maria’s eyes were wide as she curtsied. “Mr. Darcy,” she murmured.

Lydia had been intent on plying him with punch “to help him relax,” but her absence would help him relax most readily. Despite having spent little time with the girl, he was already able to identify that gnawing pain in the back of his neck as his “Lydia headache.”

“You may speak with your friend, and I will obtain punch.” He managed to smile at Lydia as he said this.

“La! How wonderful!” Lydia exclaimed and promptly turned her back on him to whisper in her friend’s ear.

Darcy did not care; he was rid of the girl for the moment. If he never returned with the punch, she probably would not notice.

Throughout their dance, Lydia had encouraged Darcy to “smile more” and “have more fun” as if fun were something one could conjure up at will. He supposed this subject of discourse was an improvement on her constant questions about gifts of jewelry, but Darcy found himself equally irritated.

Darcy needed counsel and thought Bingley might help. He had spied his friend over by the punch table talking to Mr. Collins and Miss Bennet. However, as Darcy neared the group, Bingley drew his arm back and punched the oafish parson on the chin.

“What the devil?” Darcy muttered, hastening forward. While Darcy had often fantasized about striking the supercilious parson—or perhaps pushing him into a convenient lake—he could not imagine what had provoked Bingley. His friend rarely lost his temper and never resorted to violence. What had Collins said?

When Darcy arrived, Collins was tottering on his feet, pure astonishment on his face. The contents of the cup he held sloshed dangerously. Bingley was preparing for another punch, but Darcy hastily grabbed his friend’s arm.

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