[ Closed starter for @ircnwrought ]
"So I've heard, that Miss Elizabeth Bennet, the younger sister of Mrs. Bingley, has been very lately engaged to——"
At least one of Mr. Darcy’s five senses had failed him ere the latter portion of the gossipmonger’s statement could be distinctly overheard. The second subject did not matter so much as the first. Elizabeth Bennet, lately engaged. Such a revelation was sufficient to send the aching heart in his breast plummeting into the depths of his hollow stomach. The gentleman had long known that this day must arrive; yet nothing could have adequately prepared him for the news—least of all from the lips of a stranger. Why had such tidings not been communicated to him by his dearest friend Charles Bingley? The news must have indeed been recent; more recent than the post could deliver such a missive overflowing with the dreaded details.
For a brief moment in time, Fitzwilliam had wholly lost himself, standing amongst a throng of souls, none of whom suspected the havoc their half-concealed whisperings had wrought upon a man so generally accounted as impenetrable. He was not so. Their unintentional darts had reached their target, leaving him bereft of speech and motion, until by some miracle, he recollected himself to retreat a step, and remember his situation. If he was to crumble beneath the weight of his uncertainty and hesitation robbing him of one final opportunity to make the Hertfordshire beauty his wife, it would have to be in a place of much needed solitude. Not here.
The tall gentleman at length turned aside, resigning himself to a place against the wall; partly from a sudden necessity for support, that he might remain steady and upright, and partly from a desire to collect his thoughts without intrusion. In the latter case, he was foolish to believe that any such reflection might take place at such an assembly. Certainly not when his station had once again placed him in the company of a fresh acquaintance whom offered him the most quizzical of looks. As though he had interrupted her own time of contemplation with his undesirable presence. He hadn't, in that moment, had the common sense to procure himself a drink, let alone find an unoccupied corner to sulk in.
Mr. Darcy allowed his eyes to briefly close, and for a breath to be taken, as he steeled himself for whatever transpired the moment he acknowledged the young lady with even a fleeting glimpse, no matter how silent or uninviting it may have been. No amount of intimidating cheek could've tempted him away from the wall as his legs grew less capable of holding his weight with each minute that passed. That, he'd come to find, was something that this acquaintance in particular had an abundance of. Cheek, wit and a similar disdain for the frivolities that society deemed mandatory to maintain status, wealth, or anything in between. None of which, at present, he cared about at all.
