The Twelve Labors of William Darcy

by Esther

February 2004

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William Darcy watched his girlfriend stalk around the apartment, her arms folded across her belly. There was only one time in memory when she had looked angrier than she did now, but that had been some months before their present relationship, and he thought that he had long made all the improvements necessary to be deserving of her affection. Now though, after only three weeks of steady dating, he’d already screwed up.

He hated to admit it. Not to her, and not to himself. But she was clearly awaiting those magic words, so he obliged her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, hoping he sounded contrite enough.

He didn’t. “Is that all?” she seethed. “A simple sorry?”

Trying not to look too perturbed, he scratched the back of his neck. “What would you have me say?”

“How about explaining your behavior at the party!” She collapsed into a nearby armchair. “Your anger, your coldness… and your accusations.”

“Lizzy, how was I supposed to know?”

“I should think that you’d trust me by now,” she shot back. “To say that I was letting another man come on to me. To say that I was welcoming it! And of all men, Bill Collins! You know how much that hurts, Will? Not only to have your integrity, your honesty doubted… but your personal standards as well!”

William groaned. After a pause, he moved towards her seat and almost knelt in front of her. But some stubborn pride held him back, and he pulled up another chair instead.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated.

“Talk is cheap,” Lizzy whispered. “You hurt me. I thought you’d changed enough not to say the things you said to me.”

“Believe me, I won’t do it again,” he insisted.

She sighed. “You know, some women would have dumped you right then and there.”

William felt a cold rush of fear, which he tried his best to ignore. “But you aren’t like other women,” he said. “And if talk is cheap, let me do something for you. Let me make it up to you somehow.” He reached out to stroke her cheek, encouraged by the way she leaned into his hand.

“You think you can distract me?” she purred, before pushing his hand away. A playful gleam crept into her eyes. “You want to do something for me?”

“Yes, anything.”

“Anything?”

He paused before repeating, with greater firmness, “Anything.”

“I see. Tell me, Will… you ever heard of the 12 labors of Hercules?”

William watched her warily. Being a PhD candidate in the local university’s classics department, she knew more than he did on the subject, which left him not quite certain of her intentions. “Sort of,” he said. In an attempt to make her laugh, he flexed his biceps and added, “I know who Hercules is.”

Her laugh sounded more like a snort. “Of course you do… you invulnerable hunk of a man,” she murmured. A slow smile spread up her face, leaving him torn between alarm and arousal.

He lowered his arms. “Look, Lizzy, if you want me to buy you groceries or buff your floor, I’ll do it. You have only to ask.”

“No, no. Nothing so simple as that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow’s the third, right? From tomorrow morning to the morning of Valentine’s Day, I’m going to email you twelve challenges. A new challenge every day, at 8 a.m. sharp. You complete those challenges successfully, and you earn my forgiveness.” Her face clouded. “Forgiveness for thinking I was some kind of floozy. And a floozy with poor taste, at that!” When he winced, she leaned forward and looked straight into his dark eyes. “Come on,” she breathed, “aren’t you up for it?”

Damn, she knew just what to say. “Fine, I’ll do it. I mean, at least I’ll get to see you everyday, right? Update you on my progress?”

She shook her head. “You don’t see me, and you don’t speak to me, until the fourteenth.” When he made to protest, she stuck out her hand and said, “Is it a deal?”

He stared hard at her hand, before slowly folding his fingers around it. Then, with a quick jerk, he pulled her up against him and crushed his lips to her own. “These will be a long twelve days,” he murmured at last. Taking advantage of her stunned state, he planted another kiss on her forehead, inhaled deeply of her hair, and managed to get himself out her front door.

2/3 – Taming the Lioness

William made it to his office by 8:00 and was confronted with this email:

Hi, Will, I think my lips are still tingling from yesterday. So I’ll tell you what; since you won’t be kissing me anytime soon, why not put your lips to work on something else? Your mission today is to go to your aunt and persuade her to accept me.

William groaned. Successful lawyer as he was, Catherine was the only woman – save one, he reminded himself – who could hold her ground against his arguments. Couple this stubbornness with a snobbish attitude, and you had one inflexible, formidable lady.

He paid her a visit that evening. “William,” she murmured, rising majestically when he entered her parlor. With her golden, silver-flecked hair and wide, strong jaw, she looked like an aged lioness. “Your appearance suggests to me that you have heeded my advice and disposed of the Bennet girl. Otherwise, you have no business in this house.”

“Why can’t you give her a chance?” William asked. “The one time you spoke to her, you spoke to insult… you’ve never even had a real conversation with her.”

“I do not wish to. And if this is what you came to tell me, you might as well leave.”

“No, I’m not leaving until I have my say.” Hearing her gasp, he pressed on. “She is the loveliest, most intelligent and honorable woman I know. How can you think that she is mercenary? How can you willfully persist in slandering her to all of your acquaintances? I’d always thought you more decent than that.”

“She is indecent, not I.”

“You’re stubborn… entirely too stubborn,” he muttered. “And unfeeling. Can’t you see how happy I am with her?”

“I am not unfeeling,” she cried. “I want what is best for you. A woman of stature, a woman of good breeding and–”

“Good breeding,” he snorted. “What, am I awarding prizes at a dog show?”

The battle continued for an hour, sallies hurled from both sides, until the two were quite weary. Not that either would admit it.

William found himself confronted with the dreadful possibility of failing his first challenge. Though he wasn’t entirely certain how serious Lizzy was about all these labors, he did not want to blunder by treating them as a joke. Then it would really be over. Pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes, he wondered what he could do, what he could say that would let him triumph over his thick-skinned aunt.

A moment later, the answer came to him, and what got him to act upon it was the mere thought of Lizzy. Ignoring the protests of his pride, he propelled himself to where his aunt stood. With as gentle a smile as he could muster, he gathered her into his arms and didn’t let go.

Naturally, she resisted, but he only pulled her closer. “Why must we fight?” he whispered. “We’re family, aren’t we? When my parents died, you were the one who stepped in and lent me support. Taught me lessons on how to succeed, to be independent and firm in principle. I am a grown man now. Can you not trust the choices that I make? Lizzy,” he went on, “wants to be with me for who I am. She has seen in me, flawed as I am, someone worthy of her companionship… just as another woman looked at me when I was a sad, scared little boy and saw the beginnings of a man who would make her proud.”

William would have been hard-pressed to admit it, but tears had started in his eyes. And he was not the only one affected. By the time Catherine drew away, his shoulder was damp.

2/4 – Beauty Parlor Beast

I don’t know what you said to your aunt, but she called me last night and was so incredibly… human. I’m so proud of you; your success makes me confident that you’re up for what’s next. Four o’clock today, my mom has an appointment at the beauty parlor. Your task is to keep her company.

This task turned out to be more horrible than he imagined. At first he was introduced to Mrs. Bennet’s friends, who pinched his cheeks, petted his arms, and patted his butt, all while waggling their brows in an eerily suggestive way. This was followed by a half-hour of consultation, where he helped her select her hair, nail, and lipstick color. Then, while watching her have her legs waxed, he was assailed with a torrent of questions about his job, his home, his family, his past relationships. For every question he answered, two more sprang up; for every two, there were four lined up in waiting. Finally, at his wit’s end, he stood up and declared:

“I’m thirty-one years old. I make 250,000 dollars a year. My favorite color is blue. I own a house on the north shore of Long Island. It has an outdoor swimming pool shaped like a dolphin. My gardener’s name is Phil. I am partial to pistachio nut ice cream, mango sorbet, and Kozy Shack pudding. My middle name is Hubert; I hate it. Did I mention I own four cars? If I could be any animal I’d be a chimpanzee… not a wild one, but one of those lab apes who knows how to use a computer. I’m ambidextrous. I hate moonlit walks on the beach because I hate having to clean sand off my feet. I’ve never been married, I don’t smoke, I rarely drink, and I’ve never fathered any children!”

Mrs. Bennet stared up at him, dumbfounded. “How much did you say your salary was?”

2/5 – The Flabby Tabby

The following afternoon, William pulled up at Mary Bennet’s lakeside cottage. She was fresh out of college and already a published author whose fantasy novel, The Wizard Fordyce, had made it to the bottom of the N.Y. Times Bestsellers list. Now she had her own home, where she lived with her typewriter – nicknamed Scrappy Joe – and a collection of eleven cats.

Her favorite one was missing.

When Mary answered the door, she peered up at him uncomprehendingly before finally registering his identity. “Right, so Lizzy told you about Jabba,” she said. “It’s already taken care of. He showed up about an hour ago.”

“Oh. Glad to hear it.”

“Yeah, you see, he’s obese. When he wandered off, I didn’t know what would happen to him; he’d never be able to outrun anything. But then, you’ll never believe this, he shows up dragging a baby fox between his teeth. Dumps it at the door, right where you’re standing now. Isn’t that bizarre?”

“Um… yes.”

“Well, so… but thanks for showing up. Hey, you want to read a chapter I’m working on? It’s for my sequel.”

It was the least he could do, he thought, and as the evening wore on he actually found himself not only getting involved in the plot, but also enjoying the time spent with Lizzy’s most eccentric sister.

2/6 – Goading Bingley

I heard you had it easy yesterday, but because my sister so enjoyed your company, I’ll let you off the hook and still count it as your third challenge. As for today, you have to get Charles mad about something.

Unsure of what he would do, he went over to Bingley’s house for lunch. Though Jane, a schoolteacher, worked out of the home, Bingley had set up his consulting business in an office adjacent to his den, so that he could take a break every half hour and watch some ESPN.

“I need you to do me a favor,” said William, toying with his food.

“Sure thing.”

“I need you to get enraged about something.”

“Huh?”

“It’s just… I can’t explain. O.K., yes I can.” And he told his closest friend about the trials that Lizzy was putting him through.

Bingley whooped with laughter. “You’re being a real sport about it. That’s not like you, Will.”

“Yes, well… I find myself willing to do anything for her, these days.” He missed Bingley’s knowing glance. “Look, I don’t know how to go about doing this…”

“Leave it to me,” Bingley said. For ten minutes he sat in stillness, eyes closed, until William grew genuinely worried. But when he reached over to tap Bingley, his friend leapt up and let loose a perverse shriek. The veins at his temples throbbed, the cords in his neck stood out, and his face was fire hydrant red. As William scrambled to the other side of the table, he screamed once more, pulling his hair out on end, before finally collapsing into his chair.

“Bingley,” William breathed. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. I was just thinking about the time you nearly separated me from Jane.”

“But… you never blew up at me like that!”

“Of course not. I’m good at keeping things pent up.”

2/7 – Hurstian Obstruction

After his near heart attack yesterday, William wondered what Lizzy had in store for him next. Her email’s subject line told him it would have something to do with Dr. G. Andrew Hurst, who was Lizzy’s mentor in the classics department and also coached the women’s bowling team two nights a week. By the time William finished reading the email, he was sorely tempted to pull a Bingley.

Louisa opened the door for him. “So glad you came,” she exclaimed. “My husband keeps forgetting to call the plumber, and I hate having to deal with workmen; they’re so uncouth.” Her gaze turned somewhat sympathetic. “You know, even though Lizzy said you’d be here, I had a hard time believing it.”

“Me too,” he ground out.

“Oh, well. Bathroom’s up the stairs, first door on the left.”

When he reached the correct room, and steeled himself for the clogged toilet that he knew sat within, he found a note on the door:

You are a brave man – G. Hurst

2/8 – Make Caro Squawk

I hope it wasn’t that bad, sweetheart; I promise you, today will be less disgusting. You have to get Caro to stop leaving you obscene messages on your answering machine.

And how – he seethed – was that less disgusting? Some of Caro’s messages were chirpy and flirtatious, while others were whispered in her version of a seductive purr (which in his opinion sounded more like the splutter of a diseased duck). And then there was that one time that she had moaned along to Barry White…

He showed up at her penthouse and was dragged onto the loveseat, where she snuggled up against him. “How wonderful,” she cooed. “You’ve dumped Lizzy Bennet.”

“No, actually, I’ve come to tell you in person what I failed to convey to you over the phone: I will not be your boyfriend.”

“Oh, all right. Husband, then.”

“You just don’t get it.” He leapt to his feet. “I’m not leaving Lizzy.”

“Nonsense. You have no real feelings for her. It’s infatuation, it’s lust, it’s madness, it’s–”

“It’s love,” he murmured, stunning himself as much as he shocked her. This was the first time that he had ever named the complex, intense, overpowering, downright glorious riot of feelings that he held for Lizzy. How had he not seen it until now?

“I am so dense,” he sighed.

“I know you are, staying with her like that. But don’t you worry, I’ll–”

“Don’t,” he cut in, barreling towards the door. “The best thing – the only thing – that you can do is stop phoning me. You have a better chance making it to the age of forty without a single cosmetic surgery than you do of ever being my girlfriend. Or wife.” With that, he left the room.

“Damn,” Caro sighed. “I wish I’d held off on that nose job.”

2/9 – The Cretin Bull

William was tempted to tell Lizzy about his newfound revelation, but held back, saving it for Valentine’s Day. Bolstered by his new understanding, he cheerfully carried out Task #7 – intercepting Wickham on his way to a date with Lydia. Threatening the lothario proved to be good fun, and he relished the sight of the leather-clad scoundrel loping away like a wounded hyena.

2/10 – The Whinnying Ninnies The eighth task was less fun than bullying Wickham. He found himself sitting in Kitty and Lydia’s shared room in the Bennet home. A sign reading MANEATER hung on their door, and the walls were covered with posters of studmuffins in various states of undress.

He had to get them to shut up for one hour.

“O.K., cutie,” crooned Lydia. “What brings you here?”

Good that Lizzy hadn’t banned pay-offs. “If you can stay quiet for one full hour, you make a hundred dollars each.”

Like two fidgety ponies, they perked their ears. But before Lydia could agree to the deal, Kitty said, “Wait. You want to give us money, just out of the blue?”

“It’s pretty straightforward,” William hedged. “You stay silent, and it’s yours.”

Kitty nosed forward, looking him straight in the eye. “Is this really important to you?”

He didn’t answer.

“Make it two hundred, hot stuff.”

2/11 – Anne De Bourgh’s Belt

You know how your cousin’s angling for a black belt, but has fallen behind her class? Get her up to par, today.

Not too bad, he thought, as he drove to meet Anne in the small park behind her apartment. In college he had worked as a martial arts teacher and had kept up his skills over the years.

Though initially Anne was too timid and reluctant, after a few hours of solid training he noticed a substantial increase in her ability.

“Thanks, Will,” she said, catching her breath after another round. “But I have to ask you something. Are any of these moves really any good for self-defense?”

“They can be. But you know what you do if all else fails. Go for the cojones.”

“Ah.” She frowned, cocking her head. “You mean, like this?”

He crumpled to the ground.

2/12 – Chessmen of Mr. Bennet

The following day he drove to the Bennets, an icepack still tucked underneath him, and wondered how he’d best Mr. Bennet at chess. He had no plan, and he doubted that watching Searching For Bobby Fisher had helped him one bit.

“I admire your spirit,” said Mr. Bennet. “You’ve lost so many times before, and yet you now come back for more. Bravo.”

The game started out grimly. It seemed that Mr. Bennet could anticipate his every move, counter his every offense, see into his every strategy. But then, halfway through, William got the upper hand and, in a painstaking forty-five minutes, managed to win.

He flushed with pride, thinking to himself, I had love at stake and that’s why I won.

Until Mr. Bennet said, “Say, I heard from Charles that Lizzy has been putting you through a series of challenges. Dare I ask why?”

William tensed. “She has her reasons.”

“I see. Well, it was good to match wits with you. For as I recall, the last time we played you intimated that you would never be my opponent again. But, I’m glad you changed your mind… and came at me with such determination.” He escorted William to his study door. “Yes, it really would’ve been a pity if you had lost. Good thing that fortune smiled on you.”

He winked, and shut the door on an astonished Darcy’s face.

2/13 – Apple of Darcy’s Eye

Lizzy’s eleventh labor had him biting his knuckles. Let his cousin, Frank Fitzwilliam – the man who had failed his road test three times – get behind the wheel of his Lamborghini Diablo? The apple of his eye? One of the chief symbols of his potency, strength and vigor?

It took him an hour to phone his cousin, and took his cousin about one-sixtieth of that time to arrive.

“You’re kidding, right?” Frank exclaimed. “No, really, what’s gotten into you? Granted, my driving has improved a great deal since high school, but…”

William scowled. “Lizzy thinks I should share my toys more often.”

Frank flicked his wrist and made a cracking sound. “You’re whipped, Will.”

“Get in before I change my mind. Remember, back in four hours. And if I see even a single paint chip missing, I’ll put a price on your head.”

“Whoa, easy there, lover boy. Hasn’t Lizzy mellowed you out?”

Not waiting for a reply, he leapt into the driver’s seat and tore out of the garage. William sighed, questioning his decision, but when his cousin disappeared around a turn in the road, a curious sense of freedom lifted his heart. He had placed Lizzy’s simple request before any consideration of his material treasures; as a result, he felt somehow liberated, and wiser.

As if the car had ever been the real apple of his eye.

2/14 – Descent Into Self

It took him exactly three minutes to complete Lizzy’s final challenge. Her email read:

Search deep inside of you and discover your darkest fear. Write back and tell me what it is. Come over tonight at seven o’clock, and I’ll let you know – face to face – if you’ve earned my forgiveness.

The discovery took no time at all. And his answer, written with heartfelt spontaneity, poured straight from his soul to his flying fingers:

It’s not at all difficult to answer you, because my darkest fear has been in the forefront of my mind these past several days.

I’m terrified of losing you.

And you want to know why? Because I’m in love with you. All the idiocies I’ve perpetrated against you in the past, including my recent attack of jealousy, had to do with not understanding that one crucial point. I can be a thick-headed man, as you’ve informed me time and again.

I’ve learned a lot of things lately. I’ve learned how to be vulnerable in front of my aunt, and how to really loosen up around your mother, and how to appreciate your sister, Mary, for who she really is, cats and all. And that what I did to Bingley in the past still eats at him sometimes – a humbling revelation, Lizzy – and that for you I would sink so deep as to unclog another man’s toilet… another man’s ungodly toilet. And that for you I would wander into a harpy’s lair, deal with a man I truly despise (though I did, admittedly, get some pleasure out of it), and pay off two totally corrupted teenagers. All for you, my love. Do you know, when Anne kicked me between the legs, my first thought – after YAAAARGHHHH! – was whether I’d still be able to have children with you one day? And it warmed my heart to learn that your father does care for me… in his own way… and it made me feel like a better man when I put my car in Frank’s care (it’s fine, in case you wanted to know). I’d give up all my worldly goods for you, or give them to you.

I’m your slave. Cherish that admission, because I’ll never say it to your face. But this I will say to you, every day if you’ll let me: I love you, Lizzy.

Twenty minutes after sending the email, he was informed by his secretary that Elizabeth Bennet was there to see him.

She had not been able to wait until the evening, to give him her reply.

Copyright held by Esther - 2004