“Please Miss Price,” said Darcy, to the undercover lady he had hired, “tell me what you have discovered.”
“I have good and bad news, sir.”
“The good first, of course.”
“Elizabeth is not mercenary.”
“Excellent!” he said, writing down in his Elizabeth Field Notes, this most exciting and exquisite news! This is why he had hired Miss Price; a man of his fortune could not be too careful.
“Unfortunately, she also hates you.”
“What?” he cried, “It cannot be! That is impossible!”
Miss Price took out her Undercover Field Notes, “She gave me an itemized list of reasons.”
Darcy took a moment to dwell on how utterly attractive it was that Elizabeth had made such a list, before returning to the more distressing subject at hand, “What did she say?”
“Would you like to hear them chronologically or in order of greatest importance? I was provided both.”
“So hot,” Darcy thought to himself, “Chronologically please.”
“First, you appeared haughty and above your company at the assembly ball.”
“True, but if you had seen the crowd,” Darcy said with a sniff of disgust.
“Secondly, you refused to be introduced and danced with only your party, despite many women being disengaged.”
“Fair.”
“Thirdly, you looked her right in the face, and called her ‘barely tolerable’.”
“But my opinion was based on incomplete data and observation! She should be offended only at my lack of rigour.”
“Fourth, you did not speak to Mrs. Long for half an hour together. It is suspected this was because she hired her carriage.”
“Entirely untrue, I did not speak to her because she had cheap lace. If I had known about the carriage, I would have moved away.”
“Fifth, you visited Longbourn with Bingley but only said eighteen words for the entire half hour visit.”
“That is extremely precise,” said Darcy, growing more bewitched as the interview went on.
“Sixth, you offered to dance with her in order to mock her love of dancing at Lucas Lodge.”
“Oh no, I very much wanted to dance with her,” Darcy replied.
“Seventh, when Elizabeth walked to Netherfield to tend her sick sister, you seemed shocked by her dirty petticoat.”
“False!” Darcy cried, “I was admiring the brilliancy of her intelligent eyes.”
“Very good, sir,” Miss Price continued, “Do you deny the eighth? That you stare at her in judgement whenever she plays pianoforte?”
“I stare in admiration!” he declared.
“Ninth, you only look at a woman to find fault.”
“Not at her. Now the rest of the women in her family, most certainly. Even Miss Bennet, who is the most decorous and proper of them all, she smiles too much. I do not have time to list the failings of the others, I would need to pay you for another hour’s interview at least!”
Miss Price wondered if she wanted the extra money, but decided against it. “This is the longest one, tenth, you denied a Mr. George Wickham his proper inheritance, reducing him to a state of comparative poverty and that you have deprived the best years of his life of that independence which was no less his due than his desert. All because you hated that your father loved him better than yourself.”
Mr. Darcy could not speak, this he had not suspected. Wickham had actually slandered his good character and told such a gross falsehood! He felt it incumbent on his honour to defend himself, if only to Miss Price, “That is entirely untrue! I paid Wickham a generous sum for the living he was promised, despite him not living up to the terms of the will.”
“I have no reason to doubt you,” said Miss Price, “but Miss Elizabeth seems entirely convinced.”
“That is exceedingly troubling,” said Mr. Darcy gravely, “What can be done?”
“She said that he provided, “names, facts, everything” in his account. I do not think that could possibly be correct, if Mr. Wickham is lying.”
“No, there is no factual basis for his report. However, I have the facts with me at all times,” said he, taking his Wickham Field Notes from the breast-pocket of his coat.
“If you would like my advice,” said Miss Price, Mr. Darcy nodded vigorously. “If Miss Elizabeth mentions Mr. Wickham to you, perhaps you should elucidate her.”
“Excellent suggestion,” Mr. Darcy said, “Now, out of curiosity, what is the first offence in order of greatest importance?”
“It’s the Wickham thing,” Miss Price said, handing Darcy her notes for perusal.
“I’m afraid the rest of the offences are not ranked precisely as I would weight them,” Mr. Darcy said, reading the list over.
“If I may be so bold,” said Miss Price, “you might want to examine the reason for the difference in relative importance of offences.”
“How prudent!” said Mr. Darcy, “When Miss Elizabeth becomes Mrs. Darcy, she will need to be properly instructed in her station and rights.”
Miss Price gulped and wondered if she should in fact proceed, “Actually sir, I thought that perhaps you might be able to better understand your-” she paused, but her courage rose and she went on, “the improper aspects of your pride.”
Mr. Darcy was rendered speechless.
Miss Price pressed on, “She said to me, and I will quote, ‘from the very beginning—from the first moment, I may almost say—of my acquaintance with Mr. Darcy, his manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of his arrogance, his conceit, and his selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known him a month before I felt that he was the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.’”
Mr. Darcy said not another word, he accepted the notes, paid Miss Price, and sat deep in thought. This was a bad beginning indeed! The last man in the world? How was it even possible? He felt he needed a good deal of time, of self-reflection, to dwell on these charges and make adjustments to his manners. But there was no time for that now, the Netherfield Ball was tomorrow! He must clear the most important charge. Miss Elizabeth must know the truth!
For more short stories, go here
For my Mansfield Park variation, here Unfairly Caught
For my crossover romance, check out Prideful & Persuaded