My Mr. Darcy & Your Mr. Bingley by Linda Beutler

Author:Linda Beutler [Beutler, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Austenesque
ISBN: 9781681310152
Google: geThAQAACAAJ
Amazon: 1681310155
Publisher: Meryton Press
Published: 2017-03-18T00:00:00+00:00

She saw Darcy’s eyes had dropped to her bodice. This gown is a failure. Say what they will, Jane and my aunt are quite wrong. I cannot be comfortable making an exhibition of myself like some Minoan frieze. I am not one of the belles of the ton. I am Elizabeth Bennet of Longbourn, a country gentleman’s daughter. She lifted her chin in defiance. And proud of it. She met his eyes again, but he was so handsome, she ached. He appeared far too vulnerable to gaze at for long.

Elizabeth shuffled her feet rather than move at Jane’s insistence, but instead of causing a disturbance and drawing further attention to her discomfort, Elizabeth sat in a chair a mere arm’s length from Darcy. This will be the longest night of my life.

After an interminable time, the play began. Darcy’s eyes did not stray from the stage, giving Elizabeth a close view of his profile. For all of Mrs. Siddons’s dramatic gestures, Elizabeth’s eyes were as fixed upon Darcy as his were upon the actors.

In the end, it was compassion that ruled her spirits, triumphing over her wounded pride and vanity. How he suffers. I know he does, and he must hate me for it. How misplaced he knows his regard to have been. Oh! I would forget all I said to him if I could. I shall not venture into society again.

Elizabeth felt Jane’s eyes turn away from the performance to cast her a worried glance. At the limit of Elizabeth’s vision, the colonel peeked at her too. She could not stop drinking in Darcy. It is the oddest sensation to peruse him here in the dark with eyes unable to cease their investigation. How set is his mouth…he will forever withhold his dimples from me. She absently tapped her fingers on her knee.

When the intermission arrived, Elizabeth sprang from her chair like a hen pheasant taking flight. As Uncle Gardiner stepped into the passage to order refreshments, Elizabeth drew a chair to the far side of her uncle’s. She perched on the edge of it, never standing or moving until the final act when Jane insisted she move to her previous seat.

“What is it, Lizzy?” Jane hissed. “Are you not enjoying the performance?”

Elizabeth shook her head in a tight, violent motion. It is my performance that annoys me. The movement dislodged her shawl, which slithered to the floor. As Othello’s fingers reached his wife’s throat, Elizabeth’s hands covered her bare chest and her aunt’s pearls. Jane bent to retrieve the wrap just as Darcy stood to bend over the partition for the same purpose. His dark curls were at Elizabeth’s knees. Her heart twisted in her chest, and her fingers wished to touch his curls to reassure him she understood. I was wrong. Darcy and Jane held the shawl between them, and Elizabeth tugged it away. Mrs. Siddons gasped her last.

“Thank you,” Elizabeth whispered into the dark.

Her mortification complete, she kept her place as the theatre erupted in applause and shouts of “Brava!”

***

Mr.

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