A Pemberley Medley (A Pride & Prejudice Variation) (20 page)

He smiled gently. “I will always be yours,” he said, holding her as if he would never let her go. Concerned, however, for her experience, he asked tenderly, “Is everything well, my love?”

She nestled closer to him, kissing his chin lightly, feeling that words could not do justice to how she felt at that moment. “Nothing could be better, nothing at all, William.”

He smiled warmly at her. “I am glad to hear it, my wife,” he said. Her heart raced a little at the appellation that was still so new to her as he caught her mouth with his for an intimate kiss. “I wish we could tell Georgiana and Fitzwilliam to stay away for a week.”

She opened her eyes wide with a mocking look of innocence. “Only a week, my husband?”

“I think, my dearest love, that it may take years to satisfy me,” he said, easing her off his shoulder so that he could prop himself up beside her. “Many years indeed.” Gazing into her eyes, he caressed her cheek tenderly. “I do have a great deal of time to make up for, you know.”

She ran a finger lightly down his chest. “Then you had best start working at it now.”

A slow smile dawned on his face, and he answered her in the only way possible.

Author’s Note: This story is an excerpt from a longer work,
The Rule of Reason
, which is not formally published owing to its overlap with
Impulse & Initiative
. If you would read more of
The Rule of Reason,
you can find it on www.lulu.com.

A Novella in 3 parts

This is a writing challenge story, dating from a time when ‘Dark Darcy’ stories were popular in the on-line Austen fan fiction community. I don’t see Darcy as a dark character, so I decided to see what would happen if I put my Mr. Darcy in the shoes of the ‘Dark Darcy,’ with a golden opportunity to take advantage of Elizabeth Bennet’s misfortunes. This novella is in three parts. The first was the original story I wrote, and the other parts came years later when my Muse insisted that there was more to the story.

Part I

“Sir, there is a Miss Bennet to see you.” Simms’ tone expressed his dubious opinion of any young lady who would call on his master. “Shall I tell her you are out?”

It was a moment before Darcy was able to make sense of the butler’s words, and even then he doubted his ears. “Did you say Miss Bennet?” He could barely bring himself to pronounce the words. “Miss
Elizabeth
Bennet?”

“She did not give her name, sir, nor did she provide a card.” Simms sniffed in disapproval.

It could not be Elizabeth. What more could she possibly have to say to him after her cold words at Hunsford not a fortnight past? It would make more sense for it to be Miss Jane Bennet, pleading for another chance with Mr. Bingley, but he could not imagine her behaving with such impropriety as to call upon a single gentleman. He could imagine Elizabeth breaking such rules, but why?

There could only be one reason. She must have told her mother of his proposal, and been instructed to change her tune. Well, it was far too late for that. He would prove to her he was not a fool to be played upon. “Show her in,” he said brusquely. He took a bracing gulp from the half-empty glass of port beside him and straightened his cravat, hoping the room’s dim light would disguise his weary features. It would not do to have her know he had been pining over her. In truth, he had been pining over a fantasy.

Almost involuntarily he stood at the sound of her light footsteps, even before her all-too-familiar form slipped in the door. He acknowledged her with a bare nod of his head and silently gestured to a chair. He forced himself to examine her critically, noting the flaws in her complexion and the asymmetry of her form in an ill-fitting dark dress, avoiding those deep, deceptive eyes.

She sat, folding and unfolding her hands in her lap. He felt no inclination to make this easy for her, so he said nothing, though the scent of lavender that drifted across to him made him slightly dizzy.

Finally she took a deep breath. “Thank you for receiving me. I apologize for the imposition, which I would not have made were my circumstances any less desperate.”

Desperate? He had not expected such melodrama from Elizabeth, but perhaps it was all part of the plan to make him compromise her and be forced to marry her. She had compromised herself enough coming here by herself; he wondered if she considered the extent to which he could ruin her reputation with a word. But even so, he felt a fleeting temptation to go along with her scheme, but then her insulting words at Hunsford rang in his ears again. She did not deserve any recognition from him. “Desperate, Miss Bennet?” he said with cold irony.

For a moment her eyes flamed, then, to his surprise, the fire was banked. Something had quelled her spirit. He wondered what punishment her mother had inflicted upon her to make her throw herself on the last man in the world she could be prevailed upon to marry. The memory of her angry countenance as she had spat those words at him made his spine stiffen.

“I am here to beg your assistance, although I have given you no reason to grant it. I should preface my request with an apology for the unfair things I said to you owing to my foolish misapprehension of Mr. Wickham, but I doubt you are in any mood to hear it, so I will come directly to my point. I have already paid bitterly for my mistaken impression of him. My family’s circumstances have changed dramatically since we last met, owing to Mr. Wickham. My youngest sister, in her foolish ignorance, has run off with him. You know him too well to doubt the outcome. She has nothing to tempt him, and I fear she is lost forever.”

The one appeal he had not expected, and the one he could not refuse. Still, he would not weaken, nor allow her to guess anything of the power she still held over him, despite everything she had said and done. “I am sorry to hear it. What has your father done to remedy the situation?”

“My father….” Her voice caught, and her eyes dropped. “My father will never again remedy any situation, which brings me to my request. You, sir, have great influence with my cousin, Mr. Collins. He has already taken possession of Longbourn, which was left to him under entail, and once he heard of Lydia’s circumstances, he refused to allow my mother and other sisters to remain there. They are staying with relatives for the moment, but that situation cannot continue. I would ask you to use your influence to convince Mr. Collins to allow my family to return, perhaps to a cottage on the estate. Nothing can be done for my poor sister Lydia, but if you could find it in your heart to intercede on behalf of my family, I would be grateful. Beyond grateful.”

There, she had said it. Elizabeth waited, her heart cold in her chest, for his response. He was her last hope, and she could only hope that his interest in her had not waned so much as to refuse this opportunity.

“On your own behalf as well, if you are to live with your family.”

The candle on his desk hissed and sputtered, sending off an acrid trail of smoke. She swallowed hard. He was going to make her say it. Well, she had fallen this far, and the words made no difference in any case. Mustering her courage, she met his haughty eyes. “Not on my own behalf. I will not be returning to my family. I ceded that option when I came to you.”

Not a flicker of expression crossed his face. She had expected a look of triumph, at least, at the knowledge that the proposals which she had proudly spurned only two weeks ago, would now have been gladly and gratefully received. She had hoped he would be generous in his victory. How quickly her life had changed! From refusing to be his wife, to offering him her virtue in exchange for her family’s safety. It was the only currency she had, so there was no choice. What did her dignity matter now?

Faced with his stony silence, she said, “I believe it is the mode in such circumstances for the lady to smile sweetly and flutter her eyelashes in an appealing manner, but I fear it is beyond me at the moment. However, I promise to show you respect in all ways.”

His mouth twisted. “Go home, Miss Bennet. I will see what I can do.”

Elizabeth spent the next few days in sick anticipation, unsure whether Mr. Darcy would aid her or leave her to her fate. Oh, how she wished she had been more moderate in her speech when she had refused his proposal! She would pay for the rest of her life for her prideful errors.

The waiting and not knowing was the worst. She was surprised Mr. Darcy had not availed himself of her offer immediately. From the novels she had read, she had assumed men had little self-control in these matters. But Mr. Darcy was nothing if not self-controlled, and she supposed it was in character for him to keep his part of the bargain before demanding his payment. At least he had not taken advantage of her and then dismissed her without assistance. It would have been within his power, but she thought from his letter that he was not that sort of man. If he agreed to a bargain, he would keep it.

She was frightened by what was to come. Under the circumstances, she could not ask her aunt what to expect, as she might have were this to be a wedding, rather than a fall from grace. Soon she and Lydia would be in the same position, but at least in her case she would have the comfort of knowing her family was safe because of her actions.

A commotion in the front hall caught her attention. Could that be Lydia’s voice she heard? She caught up her skirts and hurried down, only to discover the completely unanticipated sight of her sister on Wickham’s arm, laughing with her aunt. Despite everything, Elizabeth felt a rush of relief at the knowledge that her sister was safe.

“Lydia!” she cried.

Lydia laughed. “No, Lizzy, now I am Mrs. Wickham! We were wed this morning!” She held out her hand, displaying a narrow gold band.

“Married?” Elizabeth’s mouth was dry. She had been so certain that Lydia was lost forever, that Wickham would never marry her, but she had been wrong yet again. Why, oh, why had Lydia not been in communication with them? Had she known, she would never have had to go to Mr. Darcy and make her bargain with the devil. But now it was too late. She doubted he would release her, and her reputation was completely within his power.

Elizabeth lifted her chin. If this was to be her fate, she would meet it with courage. She would not to think of what Lydia’s impulsiveness had cost her. Lydia would suffer eventually in turn, as Elizabeth was certain that Wickham’s smiles and charm would fade soon enough and his true character would emerge. He was the true source of her misery. Lydia had been wild and thoughtless, but Wickham must have known the pain this would cause the Bennet family.

Suddenly she could not stand to see Lydia flaunting her happiness. “You will have to change your wedding finery for black now. Our father is dead.”

The silence this comment produced was complete. Even Lydia sounded subdued when she finally broke it and said, “I did not know.”

“Now you do. It would have been appreciated if you had told us about the wedding in advance. It would have saved much grief.”

Lydia’s eyes filled with tears. “I wanted to tell you! I wanted to invite my aunt and uncle, but Mr. Darcy said no, that the wedding must take place immediately.” She clapped her hand to her mouth. “Oh, I should not have said that! I promised faithfully not to mention him.”

Cold pierced her heart. Elizabeth could not bear it. She excused herself shakily and ran back to her room. They would think her grief was for her father, and it was best to leave it so. She needed to be alone to consider what she had just learned.

Mr. Darcy would never have voluntarily involved himself with Wickham, of that much she was certain. If he was there, it was for another reason. He must have made the match, made Wickham marry Lydia. There was no other explanation. It must have cost him a fortune.

She had not even dared to think of asking him for so much. She could not understand why he would go to so much extra trouble, mortification, and expense. Did he want her even deeper in his debt?

In the end, it did not matter why. She decided to allow herself one last night among her family. She would bid them farewell the next day and go to Mr. Darcy.

She did not have the chance to put her plan into action. The next morning her uncle came out of his study accompanied by none other than Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth took an involuntary step back as Mr. Gardiner introduced him to his wife. “And I believe you are already acquainted with my niece, Elizabeth.”

Her stomach knotted, wondering what Mr. Darcy had told her uncle about her. She could not have said a word to save her life.

“I have that honour. But I must beg your pardon; I have business elsewhere that cannot wait.”

Did he expect her to leave with him? Well, he had done his part, and more. Now it was her turn. She squared her shoulders and offered to see him out. He accepted with a silent bow. Once they were safely out of hearing, she said to him, “When shall I expect to see you again, sir?” She was near enough to see the pulse throbbing in his throat. His scent raised goosebumps on her arms. What would it be like to be engulfed in that smell of spice and new leather?

Something flickered in his eyes, then died, making him look old beyond his years. “I doubt we will meet again, Miss Bennet. You owe me nothing.”

“But…”