Mr. Darcy's Kiss

“Elizabeth...”

“No, that’s not even the half of it.” I was mad now. Steam should have been coming off my wet hair I was so hot. “You didn’t call. You didn’t even bother saying goodbye the other night. Who does that?”

He managed to look slightly chagrined. “It was important business,” he replied. “It couldn’t wait.”

“Right. And it’s been so pressing that you couldn’t pick up the phone for two days?” I asked. “Your phone doesn’t have texting ability? You somehow lost the knowledge of how to use a piece of paper and write a note?”

He took a step back.

“You’re right,” he admitted. “That was impolite of me.”

“Impolite?” I barked an incredulous laugh. “Impolite is using the wrong fork at dinner. You slept with me and didn’t have the decency to say a word after. You just left.”

“I had business.” He crossed his arms. “Anything else?”

His haughty arrogance at being called out pissed me off. This was the time to apologize. To tell me that he was incredibly sorry and that it would never happen again. But he wouldn’t do that. He couldn’t do that. He was a smug, rich, asshole who somehow thought this was what love looked like.

“Yes, yes I actually do,” I told him. “You destroyed my sister.”

“What?” He managed to sound surprised.

“You told Charles that Jane wasn’t interested in him,” I said, keeping my voice low for Jane’s sake. “She’s heartbroken. I know that you said something to him. You want to deny it?”

“No,” he replied. “I don’t. She didn’t want him. It was obvious.”

“Oh my god.” I nearly turned and walked right then, but I had to understand how he could do such a terrible thing. “Why in the world would you think that?”

“The pictures from the club,” he replied. “She’s leaning away from him in every one. She looks like she’s about to be sick just being there with him. Her body language was unmistakable.”

“No, her body language was that she hates crowds,” I corrected. “She hates going out to public places, but she was there at that club because he asked her. She did it to make him happy.”

“She certainly could have fooled me,” he snapped back.

“Obviously she did.” I was out of control with anger. “And the fact that you called her a gold-digger?”

“I wasn’t wrong,” he replied. “He has money, and she wants it.”

“You are incredibly wrong,” I informed him. “Just because he has more money than she does, does not mean she wanted his.”

Anger flickered in his blue eyes. “I saw how she looked at those art pieces at the auction,” he growled. “She wanted them, and using him was the easiest way to get them. She wanted his money.”

“She wanted them because she loves art,” I yelled at him. “It’s her entire world. If you had actually watched the two of them for three seconds, you’d see that they both wanted those paintings!”

I was breathing hard now, but I wasn’t done.

“And what about Wickham?” I asked.

The flicker of anger turned to a full flame in his eyes. “What about him?”

“You ruined him,” I snarled. “You stole his inheritance. You wanted to keep your precious business all to yourself, and you stole his rightful share from him. Just like you stole Charles from Jane. You don’t care about anyone but yourself! You’re nothing but a selfish pig!”

Mr. Darcy took a step back, staggering as if I’d struck him. He stared at me for a moment. “So that’s what you think?”

“Yes.” I raised my chin defiantly. I knew I could make this less painful. I knew that I could be kind and docile, but I didn’t want to be. I felt spiteful and full of vengeance. “From the moment I met you, you’ve been arrogant, elitist, and uncaring of anyone. I couldn’t love you, even if I tried. You’re money’s not even worth that.”

He blinked twice as rainwater ran down his hair and into his face. He looked away and back to me. I made sure to stand strong. I wasn’t backing down. He deserved this and so much worse.

I met his gaze, but his eyes were guarded now. The loss of their openness hurt more than I expected, especially when paired with a twinge of guilt for being so cruel in my delivery. I wasn’t about to back down, though.