Seven Days With Mr Darcy

by Rose Fairbanks

  They both laughed for a moment before Darcy asked, “What was it Michael said to you before we left this evening?”

  “I was speaking with Mrs. Gardiner and gave credit to our fortuitous meeting in the park that day to the weather and remembered you had called it St Michael’s Little Summer. We then laughed and recalled Michael’s words on the topic, and your gentle manner with him. Then our conversation turned towards their visit to Pemberley. We had not noticed that Michael was nearby. He announced his presence when he declared as he was not an angel after all, he did not need to share his name with the weather anymore.”

  Darcy lightly chuckled, “Are we to suppose there shall be no warm spells this autumn then?”

  “Perhaps not!” Darcy and Elizabeth smiled at each other, both ever sensible to the young boy that was the means of uniting them.

  The End

  Mr. Darcy's Impertinent Daughter

  You have just read The Gentleman’s Impertinent Daughter. This book was originally a stand-alone. However, now a series is in the works. Look for Book 2 in the Impertinent Daughters series, Mr. Darcy’s Impertinent Daughter, in late 2020. We meet Darcy and Elizabeth’s eldest daughter. She has inherited her mother’s impertinence and her father’s obstinacy, driving her parents nearly to distraction!

  II

  Letters from the Heart

  Jane Austen Re-Imaginings Book 1

  A Pride and Prejudice Novella Variation

  Rose Fairbanks

  Copyright

  Letters from the Heart

  Rose Fairbanks

  Published by Rose Fairbanks

  ©2014 Rose Fairbanks

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without permission in writing from its publisher and author.

  Early drafts were written in 2013 and 2014 and posted serially beginning November 2013 and ending June 2014.

  Several passages in this novel are paraphrased from the works of Jane Austen.

  Chapter One

  December 10, 1811

  Darcy House, London

  8:30 am

  Fitzwilliam Darcy tore through the contents of his desk drawer again. I must find it! He lifted every single piece of correspondence from his letter tray. His usual fastidious standards did not help today, as there seemed no hope of finding the object of his search.

  The letter was not on or in his desk, or among his personal files. He considered he may have burned it after all, but soon rejected the notion. His earlier drafts were crumpled and in the waste bin. Surely if he would have burned the final product, he would have burnt all the evidence. He could only face the truth and the likely consequences of his actions. The letter he had written to Miss Elizabeth Bennet the night before had vanished!

  He called for his butler, who confirmed several letters were sent out last night in the last post. In an agitated manner he interrogated the housemaid who had tidied the room before he had arisen for the day. He decreed to his housekeeper that she alone was to clean the room henceforth, and only at his request. Additionally, all outgoing mail would be placed by him alone into the hands of the butler since obviously other members of his staff were too incompetent to carry out the task. If they had not served his family faithfully since before he was breeched, he would have reprimanded their mild look of censure; as it was, he knew he would be apologizing for his ungentlemanly display sooner rather than later.

  Darcy dismissed them and slumped into his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. How could this have happened? No, now was not the time to ask questions. He needed to make plans.

  Yes, he needed a new plan. Darcy knew how to make arrangements and carry them through with authority. Groomed as a child to be the landlord and master of a vast estate, complete with wealth, smaller holdings, and many investments, forethought was fundamental to good order. However, he loathed admitting the truth to himself; his contrivances caused this very problem. As a Naval acquaintance had once told him, one could be too clever for one’s own good.

  Yes, Wentworth, I have been truly hoisted by my own petard: my very need to control and plan my future has, inexorably, resulted in the elimination of any freedom of choice: there was now only one honourable way forward.

  There could be no more excuses or dissemblance, which he found strangely comforting; instead, he must plan to present matters in the most positive light. He thought back to how it had all came-to-pass the night before.

  *****

  Monday, December 9, 1811

  Darcy House, London

  5 pm

  “Are you certain you do not wish to attend the theatre this evening?” Charles Bingley queried his friend.

  “No.” Fitzwilliam Darcy said emphatically.

  The two sat in the billiards room after the early and informal dinner. Darcy’s younger sister, Georgiana, had excused herself early to write letters in her chambers, leaving the two gentlemen alone.

  “I say!” Bingley proclaimed with a hint of his usual levity. “I truly had it right that evening at Netherfield when I claimed I never knew a more awful fellow than you on a Sunday night—and now a Monday—in his own home with nothing to do!”

  Darcy remembered this remark and the surrounding conversation in great detail, but feigned ignorance. “I do not recall you saying such.” He affected a scowl in hopes of the subject being dropped, but he could not intimidate his friend.

  “Truly? It was after you and Miss Elizabeth were in a dispute over whether my impulsiveness was a fault or a virtue, and before you asked her to dance a reel and she refused you.”

  Darcy did not need the reminder; he had already spent hours with his memories of the twinkle in Elizabeth Bennet’s eyes during their debate—it was not a dispute! He recalled precisely the expression on her face, the scent she wore and—to his extreme mortification—the exact shade of blue of her gown with the delicate yellow ribbon in her hair. It was like the sun cresting over the rocky peaks of Derbyshire in a sky just after a rainstorm. Darcy cringed again as he realized how ridiculous and poetic his thoughts regarding the lady had become. I am practically a mooncalf!

  Despite himself, Darcy sighed at his memories. It was the second time Elizabeth had refused to dance with him, and he should have been offended, but she was simply too endearing. She had a unique mixture of sweetness and archness in her manner. Darcy had not met with her more than six times before being entirely bewitched. The time she spent at Netherfield, seeing her each day, had been a sweet torture.

  His thoughts were interrupted by a sigh from his companion, no doubt remembering his own Bennet lady.

  “Netherfield really was a very picturesque estate. And so close to London, Caroline could have no complaints.”

  Darcy closed his eyes in annoyance but knew the following conversation necessary, yet again. “Considering how frequently she claims to enjoy Pemberley and Derbyshire, it should be no surprise she cannot complain about the distance from Hertfordshire to London. I believe her complaints were of a different matter.”

  “Everyone in the area was very welcoming and kind. Caroline wishes to remain in London for Christmas but I had thought it would be quite nice to celebrate at my own estate, perhaps invite my closest family and friends.” Bingley let out another sigh.

  Darcy was growing alarmed. He had no desire to return to the area. “Are you certain you wish to host such a large party again so soon? You hosted a ball just over a week ago. You would not want to overexert yourself or Miss Bingley.”

  Bingley’s brow furrowed and then his face lit up in amusement. “I am certain Caroline would perform any task to impress the Master of Pemberley.”

  Darcy groaned and walked to the sideboard to refresh his port. “Did you not already accept the invitation to Lady Tennyson’s ball?”

  “Yes. Caroline is desperate for me to meet Lady Tennyson’s niece, Miss Howe, again.”

  “She is quite lovely and h
as a good portion.”

  “Her hair is too dark.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “I believe you admired her hair and more in August.”

  “And her eyes are too small unlike…”

  Bingley did not need to continue, and Darcy took a large sip. Blast the Bennet sisters and their eyes! The eldest had very large and perfectly blue eyes. Elizabeth had the most expressive and intelligent eyes Darcy had ever seen, a beautiful shade of brown that could turn nearly emerald green as well. Even the youngest daughters and the mother had a special twinkle in their eye. Yes! That was an important recollection—the younger sisters and the mother!

  “Bingley, I know you are quite attracted to Miss Bennet, but you did promise to use this time in Town to consider other ladies and all the consequences.” Darcy had privately vowed to do the same.

  “Yes, I know. But what is consequence to affection?”

  Darcy took another gulp of his drink and then decided to refill his glass and offer more to Bingley.

  “The match would be lacking in all important ways.”

  “It is just like you to think money and connections are all that matter.” Bingley appeared to be teasing, but Darcy still felt a bit offended.

  “I do not mean only money and connections. You desire affection, perhaps even love, but you will not gain that with Miss Bennet.”

  Bingley looked sharply at Darcy. “What do you mean?”

  “Her heart is not easily touched.”

  “She enjoyed my attentions!”

  “She has a very easy way with everyone, quite a serene countenance. Do you truly believe she treated you differently than others?”

  “I cannot believe her to wilfully deceive me.”

  “Did she declare sentiments?” Darcy was aghast at the idea. He had thought at least Miss Bennet and Elizabeth capable of proper behaviour.

  “No, but surely she could see my intentions, and she made no move to discourage me.”

  “You are very amiable. She most likely thought you were engaging in an idle flirtation while visiting the area.”

  “You do not believe she has expectations of me?”

  “Have any of the others?”

  Bingley looked sheepishly at him. “I…no, their feelings were never attached, as you well know after this summer.”

  “And did Miss Bennet truly seem different than the other ladies?”

  Bingley looked from the glass in his hands to Darcy’s face and back to his glass. “I think you had better pour me another glass.”

  *****

  6 pm

  “She never loved me. None of them have,” Bingley bemoaned and sloshed the wine in his glass.

  “You are quite young and so amiable you cannot see those who would scheme against you.”

  “I ought to be more like you. Or how you used to be.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Since we have returned from Hertfordshire you have danced nearly every dance at every soiree, accepted every dinner invitation, and talked with many ladies at each outing. Everyone is full of gossip that you mean to finally take a wife!”

  Darcy grimaced. The last thing he needed now was London’s gossips after him. His friend laughed at his scowl.

  “Well, so it was until three nights ago. Then, you only danced half the evening and wanted to leave early, and have refused to go anywhere since. What has happened?”

  Darcy sighed. “Nothing has happened. I have agreed to go to the next ball with you.” He motioned toward the billiards table, “Please, let us enjoy our game. More port?”

  *****

  7 pm

  “I’m a catch aren’t I, Darcy?” Bingley asked bleary-eyed.

  “Of course,” Darcy replied, quite a bit more in command of his faculties.

  “Not like you, though.”

  “What?”

  “Pemberley! You’ve got Pemberley!”

  “Yes…too many want me for my estate.”

  “And your uncle, an earl!”

  “You are a fine catch, Bingley.”

  He grunted. “And I’ll prove it at Lady Tenley…Tenson…”

  “Tennyson.”

  “Lady Tennyson’s ball. I’ll be irresistible.”

  “Certainly.”

  “And you too. Maybe Lady Elizabeth Harkin for you?”

  Darcy scowled at the name. No Elizabeths. And she was blonde. “No.”

  “Your cousin Miss de Bourgh then?”

  Darcy choked on his port. “Good G-d, no!”

  “What do you want then? More money? Ties to the royal family?” Bingley laughed and then snorted, causing him to laugh all the more. “I know, love!”

  Without thought, Darcy whispered quietly to himself, “No. I will never find love again.” He peered at his glass with distrust. Where had this sudden understanding come from?

  Bingley had not heard Darcy speak over his own laughter. “What did you say?”

  “I will never marry for love.”

  “Right. Too silly for you. We must be dignified. We must not laugh.” Bingley tried to affect Darcy’s scowl. “No more love for me! No more angels!”

  Sighing, Bingley laid his glass aside. “I’m off to bed while I can walk up the stairs.”

  “Are you certain? It is still very early.”

  “Yes, but I have had little rest in over a week.”

  Darcy only grunted as his friend exited. Willing the voice in his head taunting him with declarations of love for Elizabeth Bennet to silence, he drank another glass of port before an idea of sheer genius struck him. Ten nights with little sleep plagued his ability to think clearly. Then, in a flash of inspiration, THE plan came to him. Writing a letter of sorts to Elizabeth, confessing his affections would clear them from his mind. He would even keep the letter to remind himself of all the reasons he could never marry Elizabeth Bennet.

  *****

  The following morning, as he finally comprehended where this ultimate, brilliant plan had led, Darcy ruminated on all the plans that had inexorably brought him to this impasse. Darcy had always firmly believed in planning, it was part of his very essence. He knew how to make arrangements and carry them through with authority.

  He planned to merely advise his friend, Bingley, on his leased estate in Hertfordshire and recover from his troubles of the summer. He soon realized his budding attraction for an impertinent country miss and so he planned to keep his distance. But when he was thrust into her company against his will, he sought to find fault with her. And when he found her entirely charming and bewitching, he schemed to leave the country forthwith.

  Upon noticing Bingley’s attachment to the very lady’s sister, and not perceiving the affection reciprocated, he planned to extricate his friend. He even realized the plot held the added benefit of never again needing to face Elizabeth’s fine, captivating eyes. Bingley would give up the lease and never marry a Bennet. Darcy need never visit Hertfordshire again, need never come into Elizabeth’s company on a visit to his friend’s estate, nor see her in Town as Bingley’s new sister. Yes, it was a succession of very well-considered, if increasingly desperate, stratagems.

  Darcy shook his head again. He should have realized it could come to this when things went decidedly against his plans. He did not plan to admire the young lady whose beauty he had early withstood, whose manners were not fashionable, and who had connections in trade and the most vulgar family in the kingdom. He most certainly did not plan to fall in love with her. He should not have been surprised that, after leaving Hertfordshire, he could not cast out Elizabeth’s teasing words and lovely face from his mind. He never planned to think of her day and night with increasing levels of distraction—even with a distance of twenty miles and the passage of ten days between them.

  Before he met Elizabeth, Darcy could not remember the last time he was able to admire a lady as more than a dance or dinner partner. At this point, he could scarcely recall another lady’s name. He should have known better than to assume his plans regarding Eliza
beth Bennet could ever succeed; Elizabeth’s appeal defied logic!

  Yesterday due to the tension of feigning disinterest for several hours, and a bit more drink than usual combined with a severe lack of sleep, he was impressed with the prudence of his next scheme—writing Elizabeth a letter declaring both his love for her and all the reasons why it was impossible to ask for her hand would surely banish her from his thoughts.

  Upon completion, instead of burning it, he planned to keep it to remind himself of his resolve. He immediately left the library and ignored the unease he felt over his decision. He would keep to his resolve. He had hoped writing the letter would give him instant peace, but he was confident reading the words again on the morrow would be beneficial. Although he retired to his chambers, sleep did not come easily. It was not until waking that morning that he realized he had a nagging fear that he sealed the unblemished final draft and addressed it out of habit. And now it was missing from his desk, clearly having been sent with last night’s mail.

  Now came the culmination of all his designs. There was nothing to be done for but write an express to Mr. Bennet, travel to Hertfordshire and initiate plans to marry Elizabeth Bennet. Her reputation would be damaged by his letter, and he was nothing if not honourable.

  Darcy leant forward, rested his elbows on his knees and cradled his head in his palms. He took a deep breath in, then slowly exhaled and brought his head up. He could not help the broad smile from appearing on his face. He was to marry Elizabeth Bennet!

  *****

  Monday, December 9, 1811

  Longbourn, Hertfordshire

  6 pm

  Elizabeth returned to the house from an exhausting late afternoon walk after dinner. Several days ago Jane received Miss Bingley’s note announcing the departure of the entire Netherfield party. Elizabeth argued at the time that Mr. Bingley could be no less sensible of his love for Jane or somehow in his sister’s power to believe himself in love with Miss Darcy instead. Now, she began to wonder.