Darcy and Fitzwilliam: A Tale of a Gentleman and an Officer

He stomped back into the house and made his noisy way up the stairs and into his own dressing room. Enough is enough, he fumed. I’ve been far too complacent with her temper tantrums and her stubborn pride. I’ve spoiled her—just plain spoiled her. “You are spoiled, young woman, spoiled! I have been far too indulgent with you!” he yelled. He grabbed his greatcoat and gloves and began loudly clomping back down the stairs, challenging her to voice a complaint, casting dire glances toward Elizabeth’s dressing-room door. I will be a doormat for her no longer. “I will be a doormat for you no longer, madam!!” he bellowed, nodding his head, completely in agreement with himself.

Since her door was wide open, she had to have heard the commotion of this dramatic departure and reentrance, let alone his defiant proclamation, and yet she never appeared. He hesitated at the bottom of the stairs, his breathing labored and his heart pounding. Damn it! Maybe she’s made herself ill. He could not contain his worries; they had been his constant companion for months. She’s been so quiet lately, and tired. This fit of temper must have been a shock to her system.

He took a few more hesitant steps toward the front door, slapping his gloves across his palm and then stopping again to gnaw on his lip. I suppose I could just quietly go up and have a look in at her. She’s losing her balance so often—what if she’s fallen again? He continued standing there, unable to leave and unable to go back up.

He could have just as well had “Kick me” painted on his back. Suddenly an object flew down, hitting him sharply on the back of his head. “Don’t leave without your stupid hat, Mr. Darcy. It has become chilled outside, and I should not wish to be accused of being the cause of your fever.” Elizabeth haughtily spun around and slammed her door shut.

The momentary stillness was followed by the sound of a latch.

Months and months of anxious, heart-stopping apprehension finally broke within him. Impudent little mongrel! “Inputil Mingol!” he bellowed absurdly. I really must get control of myself. His mind spun like a top, he was so incensed. He was so infuriated. He was angrier and more upset than ever before in his life, let alone in their three-year marriage. How dare she throw my hat at me!! This is a new hat! Finally getting his rage controlled enough to form coherent words, he yelled up to her, “Locked doors between us are not permitted in this house, Elizabeth!” He stood at the foot of the stairs and bellowed the clincher, “I forbid them, as you well know!” That told her!

He could contain himself no longer. He charged back up the stairs, two at a time, ending outside her door in a mind-rending and furious temper. “Mrs. Darcy, open this door!” Nothing—not a sound. He tried the handle once and then again. “Mrs. Darcy, this is still my house. You are still, if only momentarily, my wife, and I insist you open this door immediately!” He banged furiously for several moments and then stopped to listen.

Alarm began to take precedence over anger when no sound came back to him. The whole house seemed deadly quiet.

“Elizabeth, are you all right? Elizabeth?! Are you hurt? Damnation, Lizzy, answer me!” He waited a few moments more and then, taking a step back, raised his heel and bashed in the door with his boot. His eyes darted quickly around the room, finding her off to the side by the windows, sitting at her dressing table.

Tears streaming down her face, Elizabeth jumped up before retreating two steps. “How dare you force your way into my rooms, breaking in my door! I was right about you. You are no gentleman!”

Darcy’s expression became horribly mottled as his eyes twitched and blinked. He quickly closed the distance to where she stood. “Are you suddenly deaf, woman?! Haven’t you heard me yelling for you to open that damn, bloody door?!” The rafters shook as he roared.

Elizabeth drew herself up to meet him face to face, figuratively speaking. She was in actuality short of his height by about ten or twelve inches. They stood chin to chest, glaring in each other’s general vicinity, breathing hard as if both had just arrived at the finish line of a very long and debilitating race. “ Of course I heard you, you great ape! I simply chose to ignore you! ”