First Impressions: A Modern Pride and Prejudice Adaptation

Chapter 44.1

Darcy wished he hadn't come. Or, more precisely, he wished he wished he hadn't come. Despite the nearly excruciating pain he felt somewhere in his chest every time he saw her, he continued to put himself in the way of it.

It was worse when she wouldn't look at him, of course. Once or twice, he thought he perhaps caught her glancing his direction, but she always turned away within a moment or two of catching his eye. He couldn't help but stare openly. He was only human.

There was some relief when Mrs. Bennet and Cat arrived and he had the opportunity to look away. It was hard to do so, to keep from... what? There are about 500 things he wanted to say, and probably another 1,000 that he wanted to do, and he didn't know which one should come first, or if any word or action would be acceptable. He had considered all his options for so long and yet not a single one seemed like the right option. He tried to hide his frown, struggling to return his mouth to a neutral position.

It was not surprising that Mrs. Bennet excluded him from the conversation. He knew very clearly where he stood in her eyes. It was as much as he deserved. But when Mrs. Bennet offered an invitation to a meal to Chip alone, he panicked. He stuttered his way through an excuse, not quite finishing any of his sentences.

When it had gone on long enough, Darcy smoothly inserted himself. "Apologies, Chip and I already had dinner plans this evening." He didn't dare look towards Elizabeth again until Mrs. Bennet made a second proposal, which Bingley invited him to. When there was no complaint against his presence, he found himself turning towards Elizabeth in surprise. There was, briefly, the spark of a laugh in her eyes. But when they locked gazes, her eyes widened and she ducked her head, breaking eye contact. He felt his face grow warm retroactively.

And suddenly, Bingley was gripping his arm tight enough to bruise and dragging him off the porch. He scrambled to keep his feet under his body, imagining the humiliation otherwise. "Bingley! Slow down." He had to beg twice before his friend followed the instruction, pulling him halfway through the parking lot.

Bingley dropped Darcy's arm, took two steps, and whirled around. "What do I say?"

"What do you think you should say?"

"I don't know!"

He wanted to ask why Bingley hadn't been considering that while in the car. Or why what to say had not been the primary thought plaguing his mind for months. He did not want to compare their emotional situations, but it was not without effort. Instead, he tried to remain calm. "My opinion is what got you here in the first place, remember?"

Bingley's only response was to run his hands over his hair and let out a slightly manic laugh.

"What do you want her to say to you?"

Another laugh, more muffled this time. "I'm not going to say that out loud to you."

Darcy wanted to throw something at him. "We're not at school, Chip. Be a grown-up about this."

"Right, right..." He leaned to the side, glancing around Darcy. Seeing no one, he looked back and caught Darcy's eye. "Just checking!"

Darcy shrugged. Then sighed. "I... Just be yourself?" he offered, more a question than a suggestion.

"Ha."

"Really. I'm not... I'm sorry. You know I'm no good at this."

Bingley paused, his eyes narrowing. He was not overly intuitive about others' emotions. He could read a room and make the right moves, but the details were not something he focused on. But he had known Darcy long enough that he didn't have to try very hard. "What's wrong?"

"What do you mean?"

"You aren't good at this. But that's never stopped you before. You do give good advice. Remember Roy, in 10th grade? Or Daniel in 9th?" He paused. "Or me, last summer," he added in a lower tone.

Darcy pursed his lips. "I have learned a lesson about interference."

Bingley stopped. He looked up. Before him stood a man he had known for more than half his life, through grief and love and anger and change. He had always had a strong personality, as assured in his abilities as his faults and weaknesses. And he did not easily offer those weaknesses.

In the offseason, the road was quiet, nearly empty. They stood together on open concrete with only the sounds of water and birds to fill the silence. A breeze ruffled Darcy's hair, pushing strands across his forehead and around his ears. He felt observed.

Finally, Bingley said, "I don't believe you."

"What?" Darcy stammered. "What do you mean?"

"There's something else going on."

Darcy clamped his mouth shut. Bingley continued to peer at him, probing the silence with unasked questions. Darcy had no idea how to answer. How much should he admit? It was hardly flattering to warn his friend off one sister while actively pursuing another behind his back. Not that it had been intentional. Could he possibly explain the complexities of his situation quickly enough to stave off any anger on Bingley's part? And then, of course, explaining Christmas would be—

Bingley leaned forward. "All right. I'll take your word for it. If you help me figure out what the hell to say to her!"

Relief made Darcy giddy. All the pressure seemed to disappear from his chest in an instance, leaving behind an empty lightness. "Fine, okay! It's not like I know what to say, though."

Bingley beamed and slung his arm across Darcy's shoulder, leading him towards the lake. "But you're just so good at telling other people what to do!"

"Should I be offended?"

"Probably, but you know I'd be hopeless without you."

Darcy snorted.

"And you have to watch her too, y'know. When I mess up, I need you to tell me what she thinks. If I'm stupid or not." Darcy started to protest but Bingley cut him off. "You're much better at reading faces than you say you are. You know what to look for, you always do."

He promised he would. He would have promised nearly anything to Bingley in the time he feared was ticking down.

~~~~

"Well, what do you think?" Bingley asked, his voice breathy with excitement. Something bright gleamed in his eyes and his mouth could not hold any expression other than a grin. Regardless of what Darcy had to say, he thought it had been a very successful reunion.

"I..." He had looked at Jane for all of two and a half minutes; the rest of the 52 and a half (approximately) had been spent entirely on Elizabeth. He would not admit his distraction. Or at least comment on it, which amounted to pretty much the same thing. He grimaced. "Um, I think I need more time."

Bingley's face fell.

Darcy quickly back peddled. "I mean, you know I don't, um, like jumping to conclusions. I just want more time to be... sure." He felt as if he were watching from afar as his deceptions continued to grow out of hand. "I don't want to give you bad information again."

"I s'pose..." He sighed and looked at the sky as they walked back to the inn. It was a cool night and the sky was nearly cloudless. A waxing moon shone bright and the stars were far more visible than they had been during the summer, when there were more people and more light to wash them away.

Darcy realized he had, somehow, grown fond of the little town. Another layer added to his impending loss... He would tell Bingley. And soon. He resolved to be more observant, to focus more on Jane.

"Did she not seem a little... sad?" Bingley asked, breaking Darcy's introspection with his timid question.

"She did not seem exactly the same, no. I don't know about sad."

Bingley frowned. "I didn't think... Well, when we left Caroline and... you... had me so convinced, but... But, Fitz, I think I really hurt her."

Darcy could think of nothing to say in return.