"Who's there, Fitzwilliam?" My aunt said suspiciously from her seat in the middle of the room.
"I'll go see ma'am," I said eagerly, also curious who the heavy footsteps echoing outside the main living room belonged.
I stood up and strolled out into the hallway, where to my surprise, I saw Darcy. I came up to him and exclaimed, "Darcy! We'd quite despaired of you!" But what I saw stopped me in my tracks. This was perhaps the most unhinged version of my cousin I had ever seen. His usual demeanor of calm indifference was gone, and his eyes were wild and lacked any trace of his formal confidence, and his hair was disheveled, as though he had been running his hand through it.
"Is that my nephew? Where have you been?" Demanded Lady Catherine from the other room, "let him come in and explain himself,"
"No," Darcy rasped, "You will forgive me," He looked so lost for a second, then he bolted to the stairs on the left, "You'll forgive me," he said again, and for some reason, I felt like he wasn't saying it to me.
"Darcy, you are unwell?" As I watched him climb the stairs, his eyes still looked wild.
"I'm very well, thank you, but.. but I have a pressing matter of business,"
I looked at him searchingly,
"You'll forgive me," Darcy whispered, "Make my apologies to Lady Catherine, Fitzwilliam." And he ran up the stairs.
YOU ARE READING
Pride and Prejudice short stories
סיפור קצרA collection of short fluffy scenes between Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth that documents their rocky beginnings to the sweet unexpected end.
