Another Kettle of Fish Entirely...

by Julia S

October 2002, Firthness Challenge Entry

Rated PG

Author's Note: Ohhhhhh you're all going to kill me I know, but I had this little idea for another piece of fluff, besides which this Challenge folder needs a bit of fleshing out as things are looking a bit sparse. So, Hey, all you proper writers out there, things have come to a pretty pass when I post something before most of you... 

BTW, this is an Australian story and should be read in an Australian accent. Those of you who are unable to comply, at least don't pronounce the R's on the ends of words.

Hope you enjoy my Proposal (of sorts..hehehe)


“Has anyone seen my thongs?”

“Lydia! You don’t own any thongs – have you nicked my ones?”

“I wouldn’t know them if I did see them, I don’t know why anyone would wear them, and would you two shut up for three seconds so I can finish this essay!”

Life in the Bennet household was plumbing the depths of sane endurance once more; all five girls were only home together around Christmas these days, and perhaps as a strange method of compensating their poor abandoned parents for this loss, they liked to cause as much aggravation as possible in the brief time allotted to their communal presence. Elizabeth and Jane shot quick grins at one another and wandered outside into the warm mountain air, secure in the knowledge that their younger sisters would not follow them, nor would their mother. There was no air conditioning whatsoever outside.

“Is Bingles coming over here, or are you going over there?” Elizabeth asked her elder sibling, who had recently seen fit to accept the proposals of a neighbour – an affable and handsome young man who had bought one of the places up the road and was called Bingles wherever he went, except by his fiancée, who called him Charles.

Jane winced, and glanced at Elizabeth. “He’s coming here. They all are.”

“All?” Elizabeth lifted her brows in enquiry. A sudden stab of nerves shot through her – what if Darcy was visiting him again? The Hursts and Caroline were bad enough; Darcy was another kettle of fish entirely.

“Oh yes, they’re all there,” said Jane, rolling her eyes. “Both Charles’ sisters, plus Terry of course, and William’s up for a few days. It’ll be quite the party, mum’s invited everyone for miles around.”

“Oh God,” Elizabeth groaned, hoping that Jane’s quick eye hadn’t taken note of her reaction to William Darcy’s name. “Maybe I should go back to Sydney. If I have to put up with Bill Lucas breathing all over me and offering to introduce me to the Governor-General one more time, I’ll upend the punch bowl over him.”

“Now, Lizzy,” chided her sister gently, smiling. “You know you’ll love it. And anyway I need you there – we’ve decided to kill two birds with one stone, it’s going to be our engagement party as well.”

Elizabeth laughed, and turned to give her sister a quick hug. “All right, all right. Put the hard word on me, why don’t you.”

A comfortable silence reigned for a few moments as the sisters reached their favourite part of the garden, a relatively cool grotto where their father had built a pond and miniature waterfall underneath the spreading arms of an old scribbly gum. Jane sighed in satisfaction as she plopped herself onto the wooden bench nearby, causing it to creak in protest; Elizabeth settled herself on a mossy stone where she could watch the insects on the water.

“So, Lizzy,” Jane began, her voice deceptively nonchalant. “What’s been going on with you and William, anyway?”

“William? You mean Darcy?” Elizabeth attempted to bluff her way through by pretending ignorance; but Jane was having none of it.

“Of course I mean Darcy, I’m not completely stupid you know. I know you had a fight with him when you went down to see Charlotte, but then Aunty Mad said you seemed on pretty good terms when you ran into him later on at the Mudgee Wine Festival.”

“Well we’re friends, why shouldn’t we be on good terms?” Elizabeth shot Jane a look. Jane returned the look, making no response, and Elizabeth felt almost compelled to justify herself. “And it wasn’t really a fight, we both got a bit pissed at this barbecue at his auntie’s place and we said some stupid things. All forgotten now.”

“So it doesn’t bother you that William’s coming to the party.”

“Of course it doesn’t, why would it?”

“I have no idea, Lizzy. You just looked a bit weird when I mentioned it before. And you’ve been looking weird every other time anyone’s mentioned him, too.”

Elizabeth sighed and glanced away, preferring to concentrate on the pond. “Look, it’s a bit complicated, but there’s nothing going on, OK? I know you think me and Darcy would make a good pair, but trust me, it’s not going to happen.”

Jane let out an amused grunt. “Deniiied…OK, whatever you say. I won’t say another word about it.”

They didn’t get the chance to test this resolution, for at that moment both young women heard the unmistakeable rattling putter of an old Kombi van pulling into the driveway.

Elizabeth turned to her sister with one sardonic brow raised.

“Could that be... the Binglemobile?”

“It could,” Jane allowed with a grin, clambering to her feet on the bench in order to see over the copious backyard shrubs. “And it is.”

A car door slammed, and Jane bounded from her perch. “I’m going in. Coming?”

Elizabeth shook her head and smiled. “I’ll come in a few minutes. Maybe when the fuss has died down a bit.”

“OK – see you in there.” With a parting grin, Jane was gone, leaving Elizabeth to the peaceful trickling of the waterfall and the whistles and chirps of nearby honeyeaters.

Bloody Darcy... Free from Jane’s scrutiny, Elizabeth allowed her features to reflect the ambivalence of her thoughts. And he’s coming to the bloody party, of course. What should I say to him? “William, hi, so good to see you, hope Lydia’s lawyers didn’t cost too much…” Or how about “William, hi, so good to see you, made up your mind yet? Still the SNAG, or back to the old arrogant arsehole prick?” Oh Jesus Christ girl. You know he’s not a prick.

Elizabeth was snatched back to awareness by the sharp sound of a second car door closing. Hold on, Bingles already went in, did someone come with him? Eg, Darcy? No don’t be stupid, he’s just forgotten something and gone back for it. And it’s not childish to sit out here and hide just in case, is it.

“Lizzy?”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened involuntarily at the familiar sound of William Darcy’s velvet baritone.
“Over here,” she called, and she stood up to greet him. Well, it had to happen sooner or later…

“Hope you don’t mind, Jane said you were out here, and, er…”

“No no, of course I don’t mind! How are you, Will, it’s great to see you.”

“Fine, I’m fine. And you?”

“Good, really good. And how’s Gee?”

“Oh she’s fine. She’s excellent.”

An awkward silence fell while the two regarded eachother somewhat warily. Finally William cleared his throat and ventured a further comment.

“This is a nice spot.”

“Yeah, it’s dad’s little outdoor hideaway. Sit down, there’s a bench over here in the shade.”

“Thanks,” he said, smiling in response to her own smile. “So this is where you come to get away from it all, eh?”

“Oh, sort of.” She sat back on her rock, shifting a bit so she could see him more easily. “I don’t get up here too often.”

“Too busy?”

She nodded. “It’s a shame, I know, it really is a beautiful spot.”

They both took the time to take note of their surroundings; it seemed safer than to keep taking note of eachother. But the moment had come, and Elizabeth knew it; never would a better opportunity present itself. Steeling herself, she turned her gaze in his direction and cleared her throat.

“Look, Darcy.”

She had his full attention; she swallowed, and forced herself to continue.

“I know what you did for Lydia. I know you didn’t want me to find out, but I did. Please allow me to tell you how grateful I am. We owe you more than we could ever repay, I know.” She risked a glance at him. “None of the others know that it was you – Lyddie let them think it was friends of George who stepped in.”

He was silent a moment, then his lips twitched in a wry smile. “I might’ve known I couldn’t keep an investigative journalist in the dark for long.”

Elizabeth let out a burst of laughter. “Yeah right.” After pausing a moment, she pressed on more soberly, “But seriously, I can’t thank you enough. On behalf of all my family…”

Here he interrupted, his voice quiet but determined. “Don’t thank me for them. I did it for you.”

She scarcely dared to look at him; she knew she was blushing, and was certain that her heartbeat could be heard down at the house.

“Lizzy, I know I was a drunken idiot that night at Rosings. I said things to you I never, ever should have said.” He looked up at her, his dark eyes full of emotion. “But I also said things that are going to be true for the rest of my life. If you still feel the same as you did, then tell me now and I’ll never bother you again.”

“Oh,” she breathed, running a hand over her face, feeling like she’d been hit in the chest. “Jesus, Darcy, don’t hold back. Just push me in a corner, why don’t you?”

He stood up, nervous enough to abandon sense. “Well you don’t leave a man much choice, really. So what’s it going to be?”

“You know what, Darcy, this is very romantic,” Elizabeth declared sweetly, shooting a glare at the handsome man in front of her. “What’s next, a marriage proposal?”

“Maybe. It depends on how you answer the question.” Humour sparked in his dark eyes in appreciation of her response, but his faintly arrogant features remained cool and unperturbed.

She could only stare up at him speechlessly, before lurching to her feet and shaking her head.
“Oh no, I don’t think so. I’m not marrying you.”

“You don’t want to marry me?”

“Are you crazy? No, I don’t want to marry you. I don’t want to marry anyone!”

He paused at this, frowning as if working out a knotty problem. “What about my question, then?”

“What question?” Elizabeth was floundering. This was more than she had bargained for, that was for sure.

“Do you, or do you not, still feel the same way as you did when we were at Mona Vale.”

Her mouth hung open for a second; she could think of no way of avoiding the issue. Well, honesty is always the best policy…

“No. No, I do not feel the same way. Satisfied?”

He moved closer; she could not back away because of the rocks behind her.

“So you don’t feel the same way.”

“Yes, Sherlock; what an astute fellow you are.”

“But you don’t want to get married.”

“Maybe you’re not as dumb as you look.”

Again he stopped, allowing a stunned Elizabeth time to try and regain her composure as he paced back and forth for a moment, before wanting to know: “Will you move in with me then?”

“What??”

“Will…you…move…in…with…me?”

Torn between anger and amusement, Elizabeth gave way to the one that always lurked closer to the surface; she burst out laughing.

“Move in with you? No, wait,” she announced, certain she had found a way to shut him up, “I’ve got a better idea. Why don’t you move in with me?”

He hesitated for a second before replying firmly, “All right.”

“What?”

“I said, yes. I would gladly move in with you.”

“William Darcy, you are so full of shit,” Elizabeth rolled her eyes, refusing to look at him. “We really bring out the worst in eachother, don’t we.”

Darcy sighed, and reached out to gently take her shoulders in his hands. “Elizabeth, look at me.”

Somewhat defensively, she did so, and was surprised to see how much his expression had softened.

“OK, you don’t think I’m serious. Fair enough. I haven’t exactly had a good track record for making myself clear with you, have I?”

“Oh I think you’ve been quite clear about some things,” she said archly, her mouth curved in a half-smile, her dark eyes guarded.

He released her, closing his eyes in frustration, and stepped back. “I’m stuffing it up again, aren’t I.” With a bitter laugh he turned away, arms folded, head down. “Believe me, Lizzy. I will sell the farm, I will move to Sydney. I love you.”

Elizabeth felt her knees give way, and she sagged back onto her rock. He was really serious. This dreadful pass was exactly what she had been hoping and fearing would happen since she’d last seen him at Mudgee. Once again he was laying his heart open to her – only this time she could not bear to hurt him. This time she was seeing him, and herself, clearly. They had both changed so much after the Rosings Debacle, all those months ago. She owed him many things; trust not the least of them.

Swallowing, fighting down the emotions that surged within her, she carefully answered him:
“Will, that farm has been in your family for generations. I don’t want you to sell it. I don’t want you to move to Sydney.”

She saw the muscles of his broad back tighten in response to her quietly spoken words.

“So that’s it, then.” His voice was resigned.
“No!” she exclaimed, getting to her feet and walking closer to him. “No, let me finish. No more misunderstandings. And will you turn around when I’m talking to you?”

With a sigh, he complied, though his features remained downcast. He loomed over her – a large, strong man, yet so vulnerable, so easy to hurt…Tentatively she reached out a hand to touch one of his, marvelling at the contrast in size and texture they presented.

“Fitzwilliam, I am so, so sorry for what I said to you at Rosings. I couldn’t have been more wrong about a person; and for you to stand here now and say what you just said, well I’m just a bit overwhelmed. I don’t deserve it.”

He raised his head. “Yes you do. You were right about all of it. Everything you said was true.”

“Oh Christ, Darcy,” Elizabeth sighed, frowning at the self-condemnation she saw in him. “I’m not going to fight with you over who was more to blame – we both of us - But I’m getting away from my point. I don’t want you to move to Sydney because that would be a stupid waste. I’m a bloody writer – I can do that anywhere.”

Darcy’s eyes kindled as he took in her implication. She glanced away self-consciously, then forced her gaze to meet his again.

“What I’m trying to say, really badly, is that I love you too. And I love your farm. And I want to give it a go.”

Releasing what must have been a long pent-up breath, Darcy unfolded his arms and captured her hands in his. He said nothing and he did not smile, but the pure delight that radiated from his face was enough to bring tears to Elizabeth’s eyes.

“You mean it?” He managed to say at last.

She could only nod. He bent towards her until his forehead touched hers, where he paused a moment, looking into her eyes before continuing the movement, placing a soft kiss on her lips. She remembered those lips of his well; and when he pulled her forward into a close embrace, her head nestling well under his chin, she remembered that too. It was a hot day, but neither wanted to move; they were savouring eachother’s warmth, their smell, the small sounds of their breathing, as if coming home after too long spent away.

Finally, Elizabeth sighed and pulled back. Darcy was looking down at her as though there was no one else in the world; her slow smile must have been an invitation, for he lowered his head once more for a longer, deeper kiss. Another followed, and another, in a delicious rediscovery of shared pleasure. But this time was different; now the barriers were really down. Understanding seemed to lend their bodies the capacity for even more sensation and delight; Elizabeth surrendered entirely to the business of kissing him, and was brought back to herself only by the feel of his large, work-roughened hand against her bare ribs.

“Fitzwilliam Darcy!” she gasped, removing his hand with a laugh, and punctuating her speech with gentle kisses to soften the blow of it. “You will not - put your hand up my shirt – in my parent’s backyard – in broad daylight.”

He laughed, kissing her again. “I like all the qualifiers.”

“It pays to be specific,” she grinned, and led him by the hand to the bench, where they could sit in the cool shade, fool around a bit, and sort a few things out.

“Sorry about the crossed wires before,” Elizabeth began, letting her head fall back onto his arm. “I thought you were having me on.”

Darcy chuckled. “It took me a few minutes, but I worked that out eventually. Just like me to barge on in with too much all at once, in case I leave any of it out.”

“Stage fright, that’s all it was,” Elizabeth smiled, squeezing the hand that was gently rubbing her shoulder. “Lucky for you I was never one to be intimidated by a rich man with his foot in his mouth.”

He pulled her closer. “There aren’t many out there like you, Lizzy.”

“Yeah, right,” she managed to say before her mouth became otherwise engaged.

“So, um, what do you want to do tonight?” asked Darcy in a nonchalant tone a few minutes later, playing with her ringlets while she traced the line of his nose.

“You have something in mind, do you?”

“I might,” he said, letting his eyes roam suggestively and allowing his hand to slip lower down.

“Weeeell,” Elizabeth drawled, “We could stay here, I’m sure there’ll be a nice family barbie, and you could meet my parents in an official capacity.” She shot him a teasing glance; he was frowning slightly. “Or we could go over to Bingles’…” she added, her lips curving in a smile when she saw that his frown did not abate; “…or we could go to my place I suppose, it’s not even an hour away…”

“Your place, eh? I don’t know if I’ve ever seen it – is it nice?”

“You’d have to decide that for yourself,” she stated casually. “But I was thinking of heading up there tomorrow anyway for a bit of last minute shopping – I suppose I could go a bit earlier.”

“Maybe I could go with you, keep you company.”

“Maybe,” Elizabeth allowed, her heart swelling at the look in Darcy’s eyes. Maybe everything really was going to be all right after all.

Here Endeth The Short Story

Copyright held by Julia S. - 2002