The Great Race of Life
Twenty-four hours after Lady Catherine pays her a well-known visit, Elizabeth attends Meryton's Annual Fair with a downcast heart. She has no interest in the buggy race, until a certain competitor arrives.
Rated: G
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or plot of Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice
Elizabeth Bennet stood on the side of the main street of Meryton, looking at the festive scene before her eyes. The Annual Fair, as always, had transformed the small town with its decorations, anticipation, and excitement. But for the first time, this year Elizabeth had no desire to partake of the unusual and delicious treats which were being served or mingle with her neighbors. It had been less than twenty-four hours since Lady Catherine de Bourgh departed Longbourn in fury, implying that she would see that Mr. Darcy were informed of the conversation she had just had with Miss Bennet. By this time, Mr. Darcy…nay, her Fitzwilliam, would have heard a grossly exaggerated version of her answers to his aunt. He was probably in London, perhaps sitting in his study, thinking ill of her. She might never see him again. It would be no surprise if he managed to excuse himself from Jane’s wedding, just to avoid seeing a girl who had been branded as a desperate fortune huntress with the most undesirable temper and connections.
“Lizzy, what are you doing standing on the side of the road! The race is starting soon! Our dear Bingley will win! Come along and watch, child!” her mother screeched over her shoulder.
Elizabeth swallowed her embarrassment, sighed, and wandered half-heartedly after her family. The race was the pinnacle of the Annual Fair; many young men spent weeks preparing their buggies, horses, and driving skills for it. Winning conferred a certain amount of prestige upon the lucky man. The popular young ladies were not left on the sidelines, however. Many times, men would ask their sweethearts to ride in the buggy with them during the race, and thus this year, Jane would be proudly sitting at Mr. Bingley’s side.
Mr. Bingley and the other drivers were already positioning their buggies at the start line when Elizabeth ambled into the vicinity. Not wishing to be noticed in her heartbroken humor, she hung back, and tried to derive pleasure from watching Jane’s face light up as her fiancé assisted her into the seat.
“Miss Bennet?” a well-known voice spoke close behind her.
Elizabeth instinctively wheeled around to find Mr. Darcy, of all people, approaching her. Her cheeks immediately flamed. What was he doing back in Hertfordshire so soon? Had his aunt spoken with him? What would he say to her?
“Are you well, Miss Bennet?” he inquired kindly.
“Yes...yes I am,” Elizabeth stammered, blushing still more.
“I am glad to hear it. But is it not rather uncharacteristic of you to be standing on the outskirts when so exciting an event is taking place?” There was a tinge of teasing in his tone.
Elizabeth laughed nervously. Of course, it would have been more natural for her to be in the midst of the crowd, watching the race intensely and allowing her heart to begin beating as quickly as the hoofs of the horses against the road. But this year, she could focus on nothing but the chance she had thrown away in Hunsford last April.
Mr. Darcy turned and gazed at the line of buggies.
“I must own that I would not mind partaking of the excitement myself. I happen to have a buggy with me; Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of accompanying me during the race?”
Elizabeth almost fainted from shock. By sheer force of will did she draw a breath, and managed to say,
“I would be honored, sir.”
A heartfelt, broad smile immediately graced the gentleman’s face. He held out his hand, and with her heart pounding, Elizabeth gave him her gloved one. He pressed it gently and led her to a conveyance stationed discreetly at the end of the street. The second eldest Miss Bennet had never been a covetous creature, but she could not help the little gasp of awe which escaped her. The black buggy was finished and polished so well that it shone, and it bore the Darcy crest on the back. The team of white horses was also clearly superior to Mr. Bingley’s.
Darcy helped Elizabeth up to the comfortable seat, before jumping in beside her. Taking the reins, he forced the horses into a brisk trot, and pulled into line with the other buggies at the start line. He slipped into the ranks so quickly and expertly that not even the Meryton gossips managed to get a good enough glimpse to identify him or his chosen lady.
“Do be careful,” he whispered protectively to his companion as the final instructions were read out loud to the racers. “There are many sharp turns in this course; make sure that you have a firm hold on your seat.”
“I will,” she murmured back, allowing herself to smile. Whether or not he still cared for her, at least she would have this one sweet memory of being by his side. “But pray, do not reign the horses in on my account!”
Darcy laughed softly.
“You need not worry, for I have no intention to do so. I suspect that a young lady who is capable of walking three miles through the country to pay a visit to her sister can survive a brief voyage with me.”
“I hope that I will not disappoint you, sir,” Elizabeth replied, coloring.
That said, they, as well as everyone else, trained their eyes on Mr. Long, who extended his arm in the air, and fired off a single pistol shot.
Instantaneously, twenty pairs of horses dashed forward, pursued by the wild cheering of the spectators. Elizabeth gripped the seat with both hands tightly, and trained her eyes not on the road, but upon the driver of her buggy. He had laid aside his hat before the race begun, so she could plainly observe his entire face without hindrance. He leaned forward slightly, the wind ripping through his dark locks of hair. Oh, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen!
After about a minute of steering, Mr. Darcy spared her a glance.
“Should we let Bingley win, or should we give him a fair chase, Miss Bennet?” he inquired.
Elizabeth realized that while she had been gazing at him, Mr. Darcy had already managed to bypass eighteen of the other buggies; only Bingley’s was still before them. For a minute, she considered allowing her sister and her new fiancé to win, but the idea of her mother’s gloating for the rest of the week over that fact changed her mind. Besides, she longed to see Mr. Darcy truly compete in some endeavor; so many things in life were his for the asking, and she was curious to see how he would act when he had to work at something.
“I do not know about you, Mr. Darcy, but I am certainly not of a mind to be gracious to Mr. Bingley under these circumstances!” she cried.
“Your wish is my command, madam,” the gentleman replied with a smile, spurring the horses on with a flick of his wrist. Elizabeth’s heart beat faster at his words. Had she heard him correctly? Was it simply a proper speech, or was there an undercurrent of flirtation in it?
She had very little time to consider, for the horses had begun to gallop in earnest. Her bonnet’s ribbons, which had not been tied very tightly, undid themselves under the wind’s buffeting power. Her bonnet flew off her head, and was immediately trampled by the stampede of hoofs and wheels behind them. Elizabeth scarcely noticed. Her mind was more agreeably occupied by wondering how she could feel so safe at Mr. Darcy’s side, even though they were flying at a preposterous pace.
In another moment, they were on Bingley’s heels. Elizabeth saw Jane glancing over her shoulder at the pursuers, but doubted that her sister managed to recognize either herself or her accomplice. But soon her attention was diverted when Mr. Bingley’s buggy underwent the last, and sharpest, turn in the course. For a moment, Elizabeth thought that they would lose a wheel or that Jane would be thrown from the conveyance. But by dint of Mr. Bingley slowing down slightly before and during the turn, her sister and brother-in-law-to-be managed to avoid disaster.
But she was not particularly thrilled when she noticed that Mr. Darcy had no intention of following his friend’s lead and slowing down his buggy around the curve! Instinctively, Miss Bennet attempted to press herself deeper into the cushions so she would not be easily thrown off, but when the buggy actually began swing around the tight arc, intuition took over propriety completely and Elizabeth, with a frightened but delighted shriek, caught and clung to Mr. Darcy’s arm.
He noticed. As soon as he had negotiated the curve, safely, due to his superior horses and vehicle, he glanced down at her, bestowed another heartfelt smile, and tucked her hand even tighter into the crook of his arm. For about the hundredth time that day, Elizabeth’s face crimsoned. How could she have been so impetuous!
But now the finish line was only a quarter of a mile ahead of them, and their horses were almost brushing the wheels of Bingley’s buggy. Decisively, Darcy pulled on the reins and made them veer left, and then urged them on until he and Bingley were driving side by side. It was then that the occupants of Charles Bingley’s buggy looked over at their rivals, and, stunned, recognized them. Elizabeth gallantly waved at her shocked sister, and blew her a kiss as she and Mr. Darcy pulled ahead.
The screaming and cheering of the spectators grew louder and louder. Darcy’s horses galloped for all they were worth towards the finish line, and at least two hundred feet in front of Bingley’s conveyance, they surpassed it! It took Darcy a few moments to halt the dashing horses completely, during which the creatures pulled the conveyance a significant distance away from finish line. It was fortunate, since it gave them a minute to catch their breaths as the crowd watched Mr. Bingley come in second, and some other Meryton native pull in third. It also spared them from hearing Mrs. Bennet. That lady, whose eyes had been trained on Mr. Bingley’s carriage for the most part, had not noticed that her second eldest daughter was sitting beside Mr. Darcy as the lead buggy flashed through the finish line.
“That disagreeable Mr. Darcy! How dare he race against our dear Bingley? Who does he think he is, coming in with that chariot of his and probably driving poor Mr. Bingley to distraction with it? Just look how it gleams in the sunlight! Everyone was probably blinded by it on that course…”
Darcy and Elizabeth, after coming to a stop, sat in silence. Desperate to break it, Miss Bennet turned to Mr. Darcy and remarked encouragingly,
“You won, Mr. Darcy!”
He looked at her and shook his head.
“We won, Miss Bennet.”
“I hope that I did not disturb your driving, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, daring to replicate Miss Bingley’s tone at Netherfield on that long-ago autumn evening.
Mr. Darcy immediately caught the parallel, smiled, but replied quite seriously.
“Certainly not. If I may say so, we made a rather delightful team, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked down, embarrassed.
“I am glad you think so, sir,” she remarked quietly.
Mr. Darcy studied her face with anxious eyes. After a pause, he bravely reached out and covered her hand with his.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, softly, “I still think that we would make a delightful team throughout the great race of life. Have you, by any chance, changed your opinion on that matter? But one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”
Finally Elizabeth turned around and looked him full in the eye, her own fine eyes misting over with delighted tears.
“Mr. Darcy…Fitzwilliam…in the months since April my feelings have undergone so material a change, that I cannot imagine driving through the coming years with anyone but you.”
He grasped her hand in both of his. The only thing that prevented him from kissing her senseless right then and there was the torrent of spectators who had begun to sweep in their direction with the congratulations for winning the race. Among them was Mrs. Bennet, who almost fainted from ecstasy when she realized that the disagreeable Mr. Darcy was, in fact, accompanied by her own daughter.
“I believe that the town is coming to award you the prize, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth remarked as she watched the sea of people coming closer and closer.
Darcy surreptitiously reached up and fondly toyed with one of the loose curls which hung down her back.
“Elizabeth,” he replied, “I just received my prize.”
“Lizzy, what are you doing standing on the side of the road! The race is starting soon! Our dear Bingley will win! Come along and watch, child!” her mother screeched over her shoulder.
Elizabeth swallowed her embarrassment, sighed, and wandered half-heartedly after her family. The race was the pinnacle of the Annual Fair; many young men spent weeks preparing their buggies, horses, and driving skills for it. Winning conferred a certain amount of prestige upon the lucky man. The popular young ladies were not left on the sidelines, however. Many times, men would ask their sweethearts to ride in the buggy with them during the race, and thus this year, Jane would be proudly sitting at Mr. Bingley’s side.
Mr. Bingley and the other drivers were already positioning their buggies at the start line when Elizabeth ambled into the vicinity. Not wishing to be noticed in her heartbroken humor, she hung back, and tried to derive pleasure from watching Jane’s face light up as her fiancé assisted her into the seat.
“Miss Bennet?” a well-known voice spoke close behind her.
Elizabeth instinctively wheeled around to find Mr. Darcy, of all people, approaching her. Her cheeks immediately flamed. What was he doing back in Hertfordshire so soon? Had his aunt spoken with him? What would he say to her?
“Are you well, Miss Bennet?” he inquired kindly.
“Yes...yes I am,” Elizabeth stammered, blushing still more.
“I am glad to hear it. But is it not rather uncharacteristic of you to be standing on the outskirts when so exciting an event is taking place?” There was a tinge of teasing in his tone.
Elizabeth laughed nervously. Of course, it would have been more natural for her to be in the midst of the crowd, watching the race intensely and allowing her heart to begin beating as quickly as the hoofs of the horses against the road. But this year, she could focus on nothing but the chance she had thrown away in Hunsford last April.
Mr. Darcy turned and gazed at the line of buggies.
“I must own that I would not mind partaking of the excitement myself. I happen to have a buggy with me; Miss Bennet, would you do me the honor of accompanying me during the race?”
Elizabeth almost fainted from shock. By sheer force of will did she draw a breath, and managed to say,
“I would be honored, sir.”
A heartfelt, broad smile immediately graced the gentleman’s face. He held out his hand, and with her heart pounding, Elizabeth gave him her gloved one. He pressed it gently and led her to a conveyance stationed discreetly at the end of the street. The second eldest Miss Bennet had never been a covetous creature, but she could not help the little gasp of awe which escaped her. The black buggy was finished and polished so well that it shone, and it bore the Darcy crest on the back. The team of white horses was also clearly superior to Mr. Bingley’s.
Darcy helped Elizabeth up to the comfortable seat, before jumping in beside her. Taking the reins, he forced the horses into a brisk trot, and pulled into line with the other buggies at the start line. He slipped into the ranks so quickly and expertly that not even the Meryton gossips managed to get a good enough glimpse to identify him or his chosen lady.
“Do be careful,” he whispered protectively to his companion as the final instructions were read out loud to the racers. “There are many sharp turns in this course; make sure that you have a firm hold on your seat.”
“I will,” she murmured back, allowing herself to smile. Whether or not he still cared for her, at least she would have this one sweet memory of being by his side. “But pray, do not reign the horses in on my account!”
Darcy laughed softly.
“You need not worry, for I have no intention to do so. I suspect that a young lady who is capable of walking three miles through the country to pay a visit to her sister can survive a brief voyage with me.”
“I hope that I will not disappoint you, sir,” Elizabeth replied, coloring.
That said, they, as well as everyone else, trained their eyes on Mr. Long, who extended his arm in the air, and fired off a single pistol shot.
Instantaneously, twenty pairs of horses dashed forward, pursued by the wild cheering of the spectators. Elizabeth gripped the seat with both hands tightly, and trained her eyes not on the road, but upon the driver of her buggy. He had laid aside his hat before the race begun, so she could plainly observe his entire face without hindrance. He leaned forward slightly, the wind ripping through his dark locks of hair. Oh, he was the handsomest man she had ever seen!
After about a minute of steering, Mr. Darcy spared her a glance.
“Should we let Bingley win, or should we give him a fair chase, Miss Bennet?” he inquired.
Elizabeth realized that while she had been gazing at him, Mr. Darcy had already managed to bypass eighteen of the other buggies; only Bingley’s was still before them. For a minute, she considered allowing her sister and her new fiancé to win, but the idea of her mother’s gloating for the rest of the week over that fact changed her mind. Besides, she longed to see Mr. Darcy truly compete in some endeavor; so many things in life were his for the asking, and she was curious to see how he would act when he had to work at something.
“I do not know about you, Mr. Darcy, but I am certainly not of a mind to be gracious to Mr. Bingley under these circumstances!” she cried.
“Your wish is my command, madam,” the gentleman replied with a smile, spurring the horses on with a flick of his wrist. Elizabeth’s heart beat faster at his words. Had she heard him correctly? Was it simply a proper speech, or was there an undercurrent of flirtation in it?
She had very little time to consider, for the horses had begun to gallop in earnest. Her bonnet’s ribbons, which had not been tied very tightly, undid themselves under the wind’s buffeting power. Her bonnet flew off her head, and was immediately trampled by the stampede of hoofs and wheels behind them. Elizabeth scarcely noticed. Her mind was more agreeably occupied by wondering how she could feel so safe at Mr. Darcy’s side, even though they were flying at a preposterous pace.
In another moment, they were on Bingley’s heels. Elizabeth saw Jane glancing over her shoulder at the pursuers, but doubted that her sister managed to recognize either herself or her accomplice. But soon her attention was diverted when Mr. Bingley’s buggy underwent the last, and sharpest, turn in the course. For a moment, Elizabeth thought that they would lose a wheel or that Jane would be thrown from the conveyance. But by dint of Mr. Bingley slowing down slightly before and during the turn, her sister and brother-in-law-to-be managed to avoid disaster.
But she was not particularly thrilled when she noticed that Mr. Darcy had no intention of following his friend’s lead and slowing down his buggy around the curve! Instinctively, Miss Bennet attempted to press herself deeper into the cushions so she would not be easily thrown off, but when the buggy actually began swing around the tight arc, intuition took over propriety completely and Elizabeth, with a frightened but delighted shriek, caught and clung to Mr. Darcy’s arm.
He noticed. As soon as he had negotiated the curve, safely, due to his superior horses and vehicle, he glanced down at her, bestowed another heartfelt smile, and tucked her hand even tighter into the crook of his arm. For about the hundredth time that day, Elizabeth’s face crimsoned. How could she have been so impetuous!
But now the finish line was only a quarter of a mile ahead of them, and their horses were almost brushing the wheels of Bingley’s buggy. Decisively, Darcy pulled on the reins and made them veer left, and then urged them on until he and Bingley were driving side by side. It was then that the occupants of Charles Bingley’s buggy looked over at their rivals, and, stunned, recognized them. Elizabeth gallantly waved at her shocked sister, and blew her a kiss as she and Mr. Darcy pulled ahead.
The screaming and cheering of the spectators grew louder and louder. Darcy’s horses galloped for all they were worth towards the finish line, and at least two hundred feet in front of Bingley’s conveyance, they surpassed it! It took Darcy a few moments to halt the dashing horses completely, during which the creatures pulled the conveyance a significant distance away from finish line. It was fortunate, since it gave them a minute to catch their breaths as the crowd watched Mr. Bingley come in second, and some other Meryton native pull in third. It also spared them from hearing Mrs. Bennet. That lady, whose eyes had been trained on Mr. Bingley’s carriage for the most part, had not noticed that her second eldest daughter was sitting beside Mr. Darcy as the lead buggy flashed through the finish line.
“That disagreeable Mr. Darcy! How dare he race against our dear Bingley? Who does he think he is, coming in with that chariot of his and probably driving poor Mr. Bingley to distraction with it? Just look how it gleams in the sunlight! Everyone was probably blinded by it on that course…”
Darcy and Elizabeth, after coming to a stop, sat in silence. Desperate to break it, Miss Bennet turned to Mr. Darcy and remarked encouragingly,
“You won, Mr. Darcy!”
He looked at her and shook his head.
“We won, Miss Bennet.”
“I hope that I did not disturb your driving, Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth asked, daring to replicate Miss Bingley’s tone at Netherfield on that long-ago autumn evening.
Mr. Darcy immediately caught the parallel, smiled, but replied quite seriously.
“Certainly not. If I may say so, we made a rather delightful team, Miss Bennet.”
Elizabeth looked down, embarrassed.
“I am glad you think so, sir,” she remarked quietly.
Mr. Darcy studied her face with anxious eyes. After a pause, he bravely reached out and covered her hand with his.
“Miss Bennet,” he began, softly, “I still think that we would make a delightful team throughout the great race of life. Have you, by any chance, changed your opinion on that matter? But one word from you will silence me on this subject forever.”
Finally Elizabeth turned around and looked him full in the eye, her own fine eyes misting over with delighted tears.
“Mr. Darcy…Fitzwilliam…in the months since April my feelings have undergone so material a change, that I cannot imagine driving through the coming years with anyone but you.”
He grasped her hand in both of his. The only thing that prevented him from kissing her senseless right then and there was the torrent of spectators who had begun to sweep in their direction with the congratulations for winning the race. Among them was Mrs. Bennet, who almost fainted from ecstasy when she realized that the disagreeable Mr. Darcy was, in fact, accompanied by her own daughter.
“I believe that the town is coming to award you the prize, Fitzwilliam,” Elizabeth remarked as she watched the sea of people coming closer and closer.
Darcy surreptitiously reached up and fondly toyed with one of the loose curls which hung down her back.
“Elizabeth,” he replied, “I just received my prize.”