Work Text:
CHAPTER ONE
In deep contemplation, Mr. Darcy walked the grounds of Rosing’s aimlessly. Elizabeth either had not done her regular route this morning, changed the time at which she left, or wanted solitude; he was not sure. All he was confident of was that she did not show up this morning. He was rattled. He quite looked forward to any moment he had with his Elizabeth. Unfortunately, he quickly became used to their morning walks and riveting conversation. As such, he felt quite desolate without it today.
She was the most singular, remarkable woman who had ever graced his acquaintance. When he fled Hertfordshire in November, he thought his heart was secure—his own. Safe. Guarded. Now, he knew better. He unknowingly gave Miss Elizabeth part of his being, and he would never be the same. He genuinely believed she was the love of his life. He refused to marry for anything less. Surely she felt as he did. Could he look past the scruples of their relationship? His heart wanted her, but he knew propriety—nay—society required different.
He rubbed the emptiness of his chest absentmindedly as his mind wandered to horrifying thoughts: Elizabeth marrying another man, carrying someone else’s child, her smiles and wit aimed at another. He could not bear the thought. He did not care she had no money. If he were honest, he wasn’t sure he cared about her lack of connections, either. Bingley’s fortune came from trade; holding Elizabeth’s relations against her would be hypocritical.
Her family was difficult at the best of times, but so was his own. Aunt Catherine alone was enough to match the impropriety displayed by Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and the younger daughters. He shuddered at the thought. Obtaining Elizabeth’s hand would be worth whatever came his way. He let out a soft chuckle at the delight he would feel when he could tell Caroline Bingley he was a taken man. Her vapid personality would have been enough to dissuade him, but she made it glaringly obvious she didn’t want him; she wanted his fortune. As though he wouldn’t notice or succumb to her ridiculous attempts. She was not his Elizabeth.
He heard a soft laugh and furrowed his brows. Did he hear correctly? Was Elizabeth near? Her every being was burned into his memory; he knew that laugh. His heart increased as he saw her perched on a boulder, staring—no, talking—with a sheep. She looked beautiful, as always. The sun was hitting her perfectly, causing a delicate glow. He felt like a voyeur, but he couldn’t help but take her in. All that beauty. Grace. Light. It filled him.
“Baa!”
“I know, Mr. Sheep! I quite agree.”
Darcy smiled to himself and decided to stay quiet a while longer.
“I hoped this trip would lift my spirits, but I’m afraid it’s done quite the opposite.” She mused. His brows furrowed.
What was wrong? Why have her spirits worsened? He would make it right. Somehow.
“Perhaps my hopes were too high. I thought leaving Longbourn and being away from Mamma would restore some confidence I fear losing. I never meant to disgrace my family. She is so disappointed in me, Mr. Sheep.”
Darcy’s fists clenched as he quietly remained in the shadows. He knew it was wrong. He should give her confidence. But he could not help it. How was he to assist if he didn’t know what perils were ahead? That wretched Mrs. Bennet. As though Elizabeth, his Elizabeth, could ever be the one to disgrace their family. The sheep chewed idly in the pasture.
“I have found myself in a more disagreeable situation. Instead of knowing I’m disagreeable to one person, I now have the distinct honor of knowing I’m disagreeable to three. Imagine that, Mr. Sheep.” She rested her chin on her knees.
“Baa,” the sheep responded.
What could she mean? Does she believe herself to be disagreeable to three people at Rosing’s? Darcy couldn’t fathom who she could be referring to. His Aunt, perhaps. But she found criticism in all things. He hoped Elizabeth would not take offense in concern to that Lady.
“Lady Catherine made her dislike quite clear. I do not believe she appreciates my conversation, and I believe, in her eyes, my lack of accomplishments gives me little else to offer. I do not particularly care. However, I didn’t imagine being publicly scorned either. Mamma’s indifference would be easier to bear than this humiliation. As for Mr. Collins…” she let out a huff.
Darcy felt his jaw clench. If that embarrassing excuse of a man has made her uncomfortable—his thoughts were interrupted.
“Well, Mr. Sheep. He feels the need at any given moment to show off his parsonage to make what I lost in his eyes all the more evident. As though I would have ever been tempted to accept him.”
Darcy felt his blood boil. What was the meaning of this? Accept Mr. Collins? Did he dare request for his Elizabeth’s hand? As though that man could ever be worthy of Elizabeth. They make the most unsuitable match. As though Mr. Collins ever believed himself capable of cherishing, loving, and taming his Elizabeth.
“In his eyes, I will never be more than the disgraceful cousin who rejected him. I’m unsure he’ll ever move past his failed proposal. Setting aside love, it was the least romantic proposal you could possibly imagine. To hear things such as I may never be offered again, highlight my shortcomings, and insinuate I was trying to torment a respectable man through means of suspense. He readily accepts any chance to remind me of what I refused, my impertinence, and his apparent dislike for me. I am not a mercenary, Mr. Sheep; money or security would never tempt me.
“I refuse to marry for anything less than love. I never understood how difficult that would be, and now I’ve disappointed my Mamma with the price. She tried to force me to accept him. I’ve never seen her so upset. I could have saved the family from destitution, but I could not. How could I have married such a man? I shudder to even think of it. Charlotte and I will never be what we once were. I think she feels that now. To accept him mere days after he asked for my hand and pretend that is love.”
It took all of Darcy’s control to remain quiet and not move toward her. He wanted terribly to go to her. Comfort her. Tell her he would be the one to love her and that her mother and that wretched man weren’t worthy of her heart. And love her he would; for all his days. At his very core, he believed they could have the love he saw his parents share. That’s all he wanted in life.
“Do they not realize I already know my faults? Do they think my Mamma holds her tongue? Everyone is aware I’m her least favorite child. I bore that title for a long time and held my head high, but I’m growing tired Mr. Sheep. I do not need constant reminders that I have no features to tempt a man, am not accomplished, or that a worthy gentleman would not like my wit or conversation. Why must she remind me daily that I am not handsome and do not possess the qualities my sisters have? She has been so tiresome as of late. And now, things are all the worse with my rejection of Mr. Collins. I fear she will never forgive me. But had I accepted, I could never forgive myself.”
At that moment, Mr. Darcy despised Mrs. Bennet for slighting the one good thing she had ever contributed to this world. How dare she not see that Elizabeth was one of the most accomplished women of her age? He had never met another with her lively talents or sharp mind.
“Are you enjoying the pasture, Mr. Sheep? Your life must be relaxing, relatively speaking.”
“Baa!”
She smiled wryly at the fluffy creature. It eased some of the aches in his chest, seeing her smile.
“And then there’s Mr. Darcy,” she sighed. “I do not know where to begin where that gentleman is concerned. No one has ever evoked such strong emotion within me as he has done. I tease with Jane that we are sworn enemies, destined to hate each other.”
Darcy froze. What was the meaning of this? Me? Am I to be the third person? Does she hate me and believe me to feel the same?
“He has disliked me from the very moment we met, Mr. Sheep. He said I was merely tolerable. I’ll never forget the mortification of that comment. I know his sly looks at me are only to criticize and judge. The irony is not lost on me; for the moment I saw him, I thought he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. I knew naught even his name but somehow felt I already knew him. That had never happened to me before. He had an air about him, Mr. Sheep. And his eyes were utterly captivating.
“Alas, it was all to be forgot the moment he showed himself to be disagreeable. He danced with none that night beyond his own party and did not converse with his new neighbors. I fear we are all beneath him.”
Mr. Darcy was rubbing his chest again, horrified by the realization she had heard him that night. His behavior had been inexcusable at the time. Did she really believe he only looked at her to criticize? Had she not realized the way he ardently admired her? How he was unable to think of anything else for many months now? He felt numb. Did all of Hertfordshire believe him to be proud?
“He speaks to me only to debate, and while I enjoy our conversation, I fear all he hears is impertinence. And, of course, there’s the matter of Mr. Wickham.”
Darcy bristled, and his eyes narrowed. What lies has she been poisoned with?
“There are so many differing accounts of Mr. Darcy they puzzle me exceedingly. I can comprehend our community disliking the gentleman due to his behavior at the assembly. First impressions are difficult to overcome once made. I cannot understand the story Mr. Wickham told, however. I cannot be certain I believe all of it. I do believe they know each other; that was evident in their manner of greeting. But even with his pride, how could Mr. Darcy do what Mr. Wickham claims he has done?
“To refuse his father’s wishes and not provide Mr. Wickham with the living in which he was entitled is a very bold claim. Mr. Wickham was forced to join the Militia by not providing that entitled living within society. He claimed the wording of the conditions was just so, that afforded Mr. Darcy to bestow the living to another, instead. An honorable gentleman would have readily obeyed the terms of the agreement, but according to Mr. Wickham, Mr. Darcy is not an honorable man. It’s very puzzling, Mr. Sheep.”
In the wooded area, Darcy was furious. He hated Wickham; nay—loathed his very existence. Hearing Elizabeth contemplate whether he was a dishonorable man may be his undoing. Wickham was the vilest of rakes.
“Mr. Wickham’s countenance and manner of address is very charming; is that why it’s easy to believe him? While I believe Mr. Darcy is a proud man, I do not know if I can believe in my heart that he is a dishonorable one. I will never know, of course, but I wonder how different Mr. Darcy’s version of the tale would be. It’s likely I shall never see him again once I leave Kent. Between this and my stay at Netherfield, my company has been forced on the gentleman one too many times. Imagine my mortification when Sir Lucas sang my praises to a man who finds me merely tolerable and attempted to force us to dance. I could not allow it.
“Had Mr. Bingley declared his love, it is possible I would have seen Mr. Darcy again. I suppose that’s one positive of that gentleman’s quitting Netherfield. Now I can escape his future censure. Poor Jane. She seemed so forlorn in her last letter. I had never seen her as deeply in love as she is with Mr. Bingley. I fear her heart will never be the same. She’s like me and won’t marry for less than love. I cannot imagine marrying without affection or the ability to esteem my husband. Perhaps we will end up as old maids together,” she teased before continuing her musings. “I think I could be a good Governess. I could still work with young people that way, which would be pleasing. I do my best with my sisters, but my parents undermine me at every point. My father is indifferent, and Mamma is too encouraging of their silly behavior. She does not see its impropriety. It’s disheartening.” She glanced at her watch and started. “I apologize for taking so much of your time, Mr. Sheep. Thank you for conversing with me. I leave you, unfortunately.”
“Baa!”
She stood abruptly and began walking down the path, away from Mr. Darcy. Darcy could feel his pulse throbbing at all he had learned on this accidental meeting. He had much to consider and much to rectify. His astonishment that Miss Bennet loved his dearest friend was significant; was she sincerely so modest it came off as indifference? He could not bear to listen to her speak of her unmarried future while woefully unaware of the future they could have together. Most importantly, he realized that if he wanted to gain her hand, he needed to win her heart and show she owned his unconditionally in return. There was much to do, indeed.