Between Lips and Glass, Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
Between Lips and GlassBy Joanna



Chapter 1

Posted on Wednesday, 19 January 2000

London slept. In theatres, houses and palaces the lights had long gone off. Only the gas lamps on the streets, in pharmacies and cheap restaurants tickled. A long line of Grosvenor palaces slept as well. From time to time a late carriage drove through the streets or a passer-by walked home from the place of feast: London slept.

Only the palace of Lady Caroline Sautham nee Bingley was awake. Two windows of the first floor lit with a soft light from behind the thick curtains. In this room, in a private boudoir of Lady Caroline no one thought about rest. A beautiful, young, negligee woman with dark curling hair lay on the sofa, smiling with the sweetest of smiles at the young man lying at her feet. A smile rested on his lips as well as he, half-whispering, sang, "Lorelei".

The couple was like an ideal model for a painter; she - thin, yet rounded, with deep brown eyes crowning the beautiful features of her face laughing with the whiteness of her white teeth; he - tall, handsome, strong, proud, dark-haired, admiring the woman with the fire-like gaze of his eyes. There was something outstanding in him, a strange mixture of wants cynicism and cajole. He must have been a very happy, very rich and very fortunate man.

"But you have sent the horses away, Fitz?" the beautiful lady began after a pause .

"But of course."

"I like you for that!"

"For what?"

"For the fact, that you don't show off with me."

The young man laughed.

"I don't take it for a complement. Only upstarts and idiots show off. Do you include me in any of these categories?"

"Hey, hero, it happens to you as well!"

"Can be. But only if I don't care or love the person."

"So you supposedly care and love me?"

"Yes, and you only, now and forever!"

"And yet you would not sacrifice any of those relations where you don't love or care?"

"No, darling. Not a single one!"

"Pff. You are being impertinent."

"Pff. And you are as jealous as a cheap actress." He called playfully, kissing the tips of her fingers.

"You know, that is the end between us. I don't want to be one of many."

"But I patiently am one of many." Replied he.

"You!!! Name one."

"I can, even ten, Caroline! Primo: your husband..."

"Admiral? You're joking! Haven't seen him for two years and if it hadn't been for the portrait in the gallery, I would not have recognised him!"

"Secundo: Ash..."

"Nonsense! I may have laughed a few times."

"Tertio: the cousin from Surrey!"

"You must have had too much to drink for dinner." Laughed she but there was slight indignation in her laughter, she then lowered herself towards him and squeezing a curl of his hair, she purred sweetly:

"But you do love me...and would not leave me for any other!"

"For no one, never, Caroline!" he said automatically without thinking."

"Gentleman's parole, Mr. Darcy?"

"The parole of your Fitz."

"Kiss me for that."

They rested in a passionate embrace whispering sweet words to each other's ears.

"Do you know?" began she, "do you know why I'm so anxious tonight? It's because the whole world is getting married. They are trying to catch you. They spy, set intrigues! Oh, just why must you be so rich, so handsome, such a good marriage offer!"

"I wonder if I would be sitting here, if I were deaf, blind and begged on the corner of the street for instance? Who wants me then?"

"Every maiden, divorcee and married woman. Every father, guardian, mother and aunt! A regiment in one word!"

"I'm all terrified." He called mockingly.

"And nothing more?"

"No!" he stated matter-of-factly.

"Oh, how I love you...adore...will not give anyone, never!" she kissed him ardently.

The clock on the wall struck two waking the couple.

"My dear Caroline, you'll hate me, if I destroy your complexion and give you a headache. Tomorrow, there is a ball at the Somersets! Good night!" said he and kissing her one more time walked out through the hidden door. Already in the gate, he lit a cigar and straightening the sleeves of his coat began walking towards the house.

His palace stood nearby but he didn't want to go bed yet. He turned into a street on his left hand-side. Again, he began singing "Lorelei". Suddenly, he noticed to figures in front of him - a male and a female. He heard an impatient voice and then another - sharp one. The woman started walking faster as if she was trying to run away but the man was persistent.

"Give me a kiss!" he heard the voice of his colleague, a famous ladies man. "There will be no mark left on the lips and if you give me, I'll give you back. Everything is allowed during the night. You won't run away!"

The woman freed herself from the man and noticing Darcy, ran towards him:

"Please, take me home!" she whispered.

Her oppressor tried to follow her when he recognised Darcy.

"Oh, it is you, Fitz. Don't disturb me or better - help me. She's lovely!"

"I will take this lady home because she asked me to. You played your pathetic role already. Go home and sleep out the alcohol!"

"Go to, hell! I want my kiss!" replied the man, and tried to take the lady from Darcy's arm. However Darcy was faster, placing the woman behind himself.

"This battle is lost, Mr. Wickham. Go home and don't try to enrage me or you'll be sorry. The lady will stay under my protection until she wants to be released from it."

"We'll talk swords, Mr. Darcy!"

"At your service. Good bye!" he went past the oppressor and asked the lady about her address. Meanwhile, Mr. Wickham, put his hands into his pockets and laughed:

"So, here it is, Paddy! The blood of your ancestors on the maternal side! I am a true Englishman. I don't like fights!"

Darcy released the lady's hand and walked to Wickham:

"Repeat!"

"I will. You are a Paddy. And I'm not the first one to tell you that."

"And not the first who will reply. My ancestors fought under William the Conqueror's command. I'm as English as the White Cliffs of Dover. Tomorrow! Now go home or I'll forget that we are gentlemen!" He returned to the woman:

"I am sorry. At your service."

The woman watched the whole scene in silence but her face showed that she was sorry for what was being said. Now, her big, black eyes looked sharply at Darcy. There was disgust and anger in them. She bit her lips.

Darcy gave her his arm but she moved away and walked alone.

"What an awful fog! And not a single carriage for hire. I don't dare to offer returning to my house. A carriage would be ready in 5 minutes."

"Thank you. It's already close to where I live."

She spoke German so he began in this language as well.

"Can I help you with what you are carrying?" asked he.

"No, thank you. It's a medicine."

"Someone is ill?"

"Yes."

He looked at her. She was stunningly beautiful. It was a classical beauty, with dark hair, demanding respect. How could Wickham take her for a hooker!? Her voice was deep and almost dark, her eyes pensive, proud lips seemed to smile rarely. Looking at her he felt an urge to wake life in her. Darcy was a well-known and well-trained playboy. Wickham bleached in his memories and he decided that he - Antinous - could try to conquer her. The night was anyway almost over.

"Are you a foreigner?" he asked.

"Yes."

"I suppose, that you don't like the English much."

"No." She replied honestly.

"Do you have any reasons for that? We are the first nation in Europe."

"The first in pride and conceit, that is true."

"No, ma'am. We just have respect for ourselves and demand it. Pride is the mark of strength, energy and mind. We love imperiality because we've achieved it."

"Oh, you love it particularly. We could witness it but a few minutes ago."

"But, you yourself could not stand it, if one said you were...Jewish, say."

"If your mother was Jewish, you should respect Jews, remembering about her."

"I beg to differ. If our mother was a saleswoman, we do not feel obliged to love all of them. My mother was from Ireland, Mead County. My father made this mistake marrying her and now I suffer for that. The Darcy blood was polluted. I don't know the Irish. Have no connections with them and don't want to have any. I despise them." He called with fire in his eyes.

"A man who is ashamed of his ancestry is either weak or a scoundrel." Said she with her teeth clenched.

"You are very severe on a stranger."

"I know you. You possess a palace at Grosvenor, estates in Derbyshire, capitals in the bank. You have two guardians: Major DeBourgh and Aunt Catherine Darcy and many, many hearts of sentimental English girls. You are vain, lazy and proud, famous for your manners, beauty, courage and discretion. Do you recognise yourself from this portrait?"

"Caricature, you wanted to say." Laughed he easily. "My fame must be great, indeed. You are German?"

"No, from the Republic of San Marino." She replied smiling.

"If all ladies from the Republic of San Marino are like yourself, I don not envy your men. They must be like Bayard sans peur ni reproche.

"If I remember correctly, Bayard wasn't unhappy about his situation. And fortunately our citizens are nothing like the English. We have every respect for them."

"It must be a glacial respect."

"Depends on your liking. Our wives do not invite young masters to their boudoirs, our maidens do not carry their hearts on their hands and lips, and our mothers do not sell their daughters on the Vanity Fair. We are loved more than your Fraulein and Madame.

"A tough work it must be to conquer them."

"Our men are used to it."

"Congratulations but I do not envy. I don't like tough things."

"I told you, you were lazy. Our hearts are not for the English knights of King William. You and us...are two different worlds. Here it comes to an end. Thank you for the help." She stopped in front of a house.

"Don't you pay for services in San Marino?"

"If need is. I can give you courier fare."

"It is too much. It's not about the fare but about my life which I'll put at stake for you."

"For me? A quarrel about a woman, you would sink in a glass of champagne tomorrow. You'll be fighting for your English honour that can't stand the shame of a marriage with an Irish or Jew brought upon you. For this, I do not pay!"

"I will have two duels, if am not dead. I do not sink quarrels in champagne. So the first is for you to pay. At least that I would know, what I am fighting for."

"For instance?"

"Oh nothing! Souvenir...a kiss..."

She moved backwards and blushed but then stepped forward and with pride in her voice replied:

"For this nothing, you wouldn't be able to pay with all your millions. We do not sell kisses. We give them free or at all."

"And to get them...?"

"One must be a citizen of the Republic of San Marino and a noble man, then one can propose."

"So it is unreachable for me?"

"Yes. If you take offence when someone says that you are an Englishman, before such a duel, I'll pay you!"

Darcy bowed deeply.

"You are joking. I had many a stupid duel in my life. This will be just another one but at least I'll know I'll be fighting for a very beautiful, accomplished and ...aloof lady."

"Thank you for the complement and farewell."

"I thank you as well. For your moral teaching and till we meet again."

"If you can find me, I doubt about it. San Marino is far away and you are lazy."

"I can find you in a week."

"The bet is accepted. Good bye." She disappeared into the gate.

Darcy smiled and blew her a kiss. "Stunning girl! Caroline is better shaped, Lydia is more cunning but she's got that something. Splendid girl!" He walked faster and the dark shape of the Darcy Mansion appeared in no time. He turned the key in the small gate and walked inside. A middle-aged butler was napping on the chair.

"James, get me some brandy." He called

"Right away, sir."

"And give me paper and ink." First signs of dawn broke through the window. Darcy looked terribly tired. He wrote two cards hastily and called: "Send these letters at once. Get the pistols and swords. I have a duel. Breathe no word about it. And don't wake me up, unless these gentlemen come. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

Darcy undressed and threw himself into the bed. Away went beautiful ladies, duels, and English honour. He would not exchange this rest for anything, even Lady Caroline's embrace.

Chapter 2

Posted on Thursday, 20 January 2000

I forgot to put a disclaimer with the first chapter. This is a P&P crossover story with a Polish novel from the beginning of the 20th century."

Fitz Darcy had been the master of himself since early childhood. His father had given him guardians, an old friend - Major DeBourgh and Aunt Catherine Darcy, but what a poor guardians they were. It was amazing indeed that his fortune did not disappear (it was probably only because it was so enormous) and that the young man did not become totally worthless.

Major DeBourgh and Aunt Cathie met from time to time and talked about their young Fitz, prayed and left without constructive decisions: major to his estate in Derbyshire and the good Aunt to her prayers. Fitz cared about them about as much as about the ash from his cigar. His family status directed him among the young aristocrats, who soon became his friends. Apollo like figure and manners made him favourite with ladies who spoiled him to the bone. He was never a child, and young were he but a few months. He went to schools, managed to finish university, due to the talent - not hard work, he then joined the army, fought away from his country but always for it, he brought a medal with him, a couple of scares and a decision that he didn't want to be an army man. He didn't look for a career or privileges, he had them and work wasn't what he considered worth him. He was a cosmopolite, full of words and forms but behind this facade was a cynic without scruples who despised the world and everything in it, proud of his charm and magnetism. He belonged to clubs, had friends, as many as the capital could offer and every woman loved him.

He was happy with his fortune.

Major DeBourgh and Aunt Cathie were but a 'boring mixture' for him. He showed them respect and listened to their advises and persuasions, asked the Major about sheep and wines, for his dear Aunt always had sweets and paid enormous sums for her church charities. The Major easily accepted his tricks but the Aunt was a bit tougher to convince as she lived in London and heard many things about his night escapades. Her religious heart could not stand his behaviour but as she had little power over him, she limited herself to passing his rooms without a word but the expression of her face showed she felt she was passing the door of hell. Her power over the 'boy' as she called him, melted in his presence as he always charmed her with his smile. Anyway Darcy in his 'active' life had but little time to spend with his Aunt. His presence in her apartments was a rarity, therefore, when James brought news that the young master invites himself to breakfast, she swiftly ordered best cakes and rolls to be served. She could not have known that it was the duel that brought Fitz to her. James was taking care of the weapons, and Fitz felt obligated to say good bye to his Aunt, just in case. When he was about to leave for his Aunts, Fitz called to James:

"Go to Gracechurch Street number 10, near the square, take the list of the inhabitants and ask about the young lady who left for the town last night. Do you understand? Get the horses ready and give this letter to Richard Fitzwiliam. If anyone comes, you will come directly to my Aunt's. Understood?"

"Yes, sir." Replied the butler shaking his head.

The duel was set for the afternoon in a forest just outside the city. He had time enough for breakfast and a few visits.

Aunt Cathie met her prodigious nephew in her drawing room. He placed a letter on the table.

"It's from Major. I recognise the hand. He wrote me one as well. I find your correspondence very strange."

"We write about you, lad!" called Aunt Cathie. "Please help yourself with the cakes."

"What is this embroidery?"

"It's for your wedding."

"My wedding? Why such haste! I have no intention of marrying."

Miss Catherine Darcy sighed and raised her eyes to the ceiling.

"My dear Aunt there is no need for sighing. I cannot marry."

"Why, on earth not?"

"Every respectable man should avoid contacts with women."

"Yes...there are sins..."

"Arising from such contacts. Yes, I have heard. And I do not want to have sinful contacts. I do not want to court, I do not want to propose, because it leads to holding hands, looks and kisses. Ergo I'm scared to marry because it's...immoral!"

The expression of his face suggested disgust and sarcasm.

"By God!" whined Aunt Catherine.

"Instead of sighing, Aunt should read Major's letter. It's not worth thinking about marriage as my to duel in a few hours."

"A duel? You fight every month. What will become of you?"

"Nothing! I'm not a sheep to be slaughtered. Can I smoke?"

She replied in silence, weeping.

Darcy shook his head.

"These are women, and you want me to bring another. One, sobbing after a nephew, the other after her husband. Horrible!" exclaimed he.

"Do you take me for a naive. You place your only life at stake! I know everything. You are fighting for one of them. Curse on them!" called Miss Cathie.

"By God, you are a true Torquemada, Aunt!" laughed Fitz.

"You will die, if you don't stop, if you don't marry, if you don't start to look after your home! Terrible! They'll kill you!" sobbed she

"My dear Aunt, I can't die for nothing. I thought you'll support me and all I can see is tears."

Aunt Catherine looked at him in dismay.

"I'm not fighting for a lady. I'm fighting for my English honour. George Wickham called me a Paddy. I'll turn him into ashes!"

"When your Father, reste in pacem, decided to marry that Irish woman, I begged him not to do it, on my knees. But it's a wild country. There are witches there, they use magic and your Father, reste in pacem, fell under that spell. They gave him a potion there. Of that I am sure. The devil possessed your Father, reste im pacem, and Major DeBourgh always says: No one trusts Fitz. They are afraid that he is Irish. If you married the daughter of Duke M_____, the distrust would have disappeared!"

"I'm not afraid of Irish spells and witchcraft! I am not going to follow my father's path. Of that you can be sure, Aunt."

"The duel is to be for sure?"

"We are no cowards!"

At that moment James came into the room:

"The carriage is ready." He said.

"Are you going already?"

"Good bye, Aunt."

"I will be praying for you!"

"Mr. Richard Fitzwiliam is waiting for you, sir." Said James when they walked out of Miss Catherine's chambers.

"What about the house?"

"I went her. The house has two entrances on two different streets. The concierge was asleep all night, didn't see a thing. This is the list of inhabitants."

"Damn it!" called Darcy, "Take the swords and go the train station, buy two tickets to Royal Oaks.

Richard Fitzwilliam, a friend of Fitz came mostly surprised by the urgent call.

"I suppose you have a duel?" he asked as soon as Darcy entered the room.

"Lucky guess?"

"What about?"

"Irish blood, does it ring a bell?"

"With whom?"

"Wickham."

"Nonsense! George was probably drunk, and everyone knows you are first for a duel. Why did you not ask me to go with you?"

"You, the diplomat? The Lord Chancellor would have you strangled for it. But that duel...it's as if I was fighting a wardrobe!"

Richard shook his head.

"Don't you think you have too many duels? If I were you, I would invade Ireland, for the sake of them shutting their big mouths." Mocked Fitzwilliam.

"Ah, go to the devil."

"Then enter the service."

"What service?"

"Diplomacy, for instance! You are made for it!"

"Says who?"

"There was talk yesterday at the Club. Lord C____ said: An ambassador should always be a lover. He who knows all about gallantry and love, he, will make a great ambassador. And Ash goes like: Then let's send Fitz Darcy to Russia and all the problems will be gone."

"I suppose, he would want to remove me from London." said Darcy

"Ash wouldn't mind your removing from a certain palace in London."

"You know him, he likes only things touched by someone else first." Joked Darcy. "But to the point, I've asked you to come because I wanted to ask something of you. In case of a...catastrophe, please destroy all letters that you find in this desk."

"Don't worry, neither you nor your...souvenirs won't die."

"I must be going."

"Go, I'll greet you as a winner later on. At the opera, tonight."

"So long, my friend." Called Darcy.

"See you soon."

"Fitz, my dear, how good to see you." Called Lady Caroline, when Darcy entered her box in the opera that evening. Wickham was being tended to by the doctors and Fitz walked around proudly.

"I've heard you had a duel today." Continued Caroline.

"Indeed, a minor affair."

"But you do know, that you will not fight them all. You'd better stop showing off with your Englishhood and they'll forget about your ancestors."

This was probably the only wise thing lady Caroline had ever said but the young master was indifferent to her remark.

"I'll tell you something nice, Mister Nice-Face-Seeker. The box in front of ours. What wonderful opals is she wearing! Do you know her by chance?"

Fitz looked in the direction and almost jumped when he recognised the beautiful stranger in person. His behaviour did not Lady Caroline's notice.

"Ah, comme tu prends feu! C'est une coup de foudre!" she mocked

"You didn't notice before?" he said ironically.

"You, monstre!!!! O you know the lady?"

"She's from San Marino."

"Where is that? Some province or Italy?"

"I guess." He stared in the direction of the lady. She was seated with two other gentlemen. One, elderly, the other, young, with blonde curling hair and a sparkle of fun in his eyes. Lady Caroline noticed what was going on and kicking his leg slightly said:

"You are terrible, Fitz. Bring me some sweets, or better no. You'll go to her. You will stay here and accompany me all the time!"

"Caroline!" He called as if offended.

"How did you meet her? Who is she?"

"A citizen of the Republic of San Marino."

"Oh, stop with that San Marino of yours! She is Irish, I can see the features. She resembles you." It was a master trick from Lady Caroline as she was sure he would not look at the young lady again.

Indeed, Darcy did not look at her but others had seen her already.

"She must be German!" called Ash

"It doesn't matter where she is from but she is royal! Priceless! Said Richard.

"She'll be mine in 6 months." Stated Ash.

"No! She'll be mine and I bet my Fingal on that." Replied Darcy

"And I bet my four horses against your Fingal Darcy and your Mefisto, Ash that she won't be yours."

"How do you know?" asked Ash

"Look into her eyes and you'll know too. I'm going to Lady Caroline." Called Richard

After the play Darcy with Ash met on the way to the carriages which were to take them to the Somersets.

"Have you seen where did she go?" asked Darcy.

"No. I was busy. I wasn't paying much attention."

"Nor did I." Replied Darcy.

They were both lying. They were observing her intently but she disappeared in the crowd. The ball lasted till the wee small hours of the morning.

...

[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
  • zanotowane.pl
  • doc.pisz.pl
  • pdf.pisz.pl
  • braseria.xlx.pl

    •