Returning to Mr. Darcy

by Sheena Austin

  He and Elizabeth had a rocky start, of course, but grew to love each other madly. Though their first meeting had not been the stuff of fairy tales. Despite the fact that he was not fond of dancing, he’d danced with her and it was like they were the only people in the room. He was a cad when she insisted on making small talk, and he asked her if it was a rule of hers to talk while dancing. She, of course, retorted that she preferred to be unsociable and taciturn. She was feisty, and Darcy knew she despised him after she’d heard him state that she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him. He regretted his transgressions against her and grew adamantly in love with her. It had broken his heart each time she denied his proposal. Yet, in the end, she grew to love him, and he was over the moon when she finally agreed to be his wife.

  With reluctance, he dragged his feet, and his chest rose in a deep sigh as he made his way into the study. He did not have the patience to deal with Anne and her antics today. “I do not have any time to converse today, Anne.”

  She pursed her lips in a pout, before a wicked gleam flickered in her eyes. Just as Darcy made his way past her and behind his desk, Anne threw herself into his arms.

  He tensed in shock and irritation but didn’t have time to push her away before she pressed her lips to his.

  “Darcy darling, I’ve been looking all over for . . .”

  Elizabeth’s voice broke through Darcy’s surprise and he shoved Anne away from him.

  His chest dipped when he saw Elizabeth standing in the doorway, a mix of anger and heartbreak on her face.

  He took a step toward her. “Elizabeth—”

  “Mr. Darcy,” she cut him off, “there is no need for an explanation, for no words can remove the scene of you kissing Anne that played out before my very own eyes.” Elizabeth’s fists tightened by her sides.

  He paused, taken aback. She hadn’t spoken to him in that way since she’d detested him, and now he was afraid he’d come full circle. His throat tightened. Did she really think he could have wanted Anne?

  “Lizzie, it is not what it seems.”

  Anne interrupted, “Poor Lizzie, but Darcy is ashamed to tell you the truth. Which, you see, is that he is the father to my child. He did not want to bring shame upon your family.”

  His eyes clouded with anger. “Do not listen to her, Lizzie, she is attempting to rip us apart and poison your mind with lies.”

  He watched as if everything were in slow motion, his heartbreaking as Elizabeth spoke vehemently. “Surely, Mr. Darcy, it is exactly what it seems. I refuse to stand here whilst you play me for a fool.” Elizabeth unclenched her hands and proceeded to take her wedding ring off and fling it to the floor.

  Darcy watched the ring bounce off the carpet before his feet with a dull ache in his chest. Elizabeth had already spun and left the room.

  His gaze found Anne’s; she had a satisfied gleam in her eye. Irritation burned in his veins. He was afraid of what he would do to her if he had to look at her for another moment, so he headed after Elizabeth.

  Anne grabbed his arm. “Too late, my dearest Darcy. Elizabeth now thinks you and I are lovers.”

  A muscle in his jaw tightened. “You are an insolent, vile creature. We shall never be anything of the sort! Take care not to come back to my home again, or I will make sure every bachelor knows of your reputation—or lack of one.”

  Anne’s voice trilled. “Never say never, Darcy. I always get what I want.”

  ****

  Tears burned Elizabeth’s eyes as she ran from the house. She felt like a fool for thinking she could ever satisfy a man like Darcy. A sharp pain cut through her chest at the idea that he might prefer Anne over her—she was of lowly status, after all. It began to storm, and pellets of rain blinded her.

  Mud splattered her dress as she ran deep into the garden and sought out an old oak tree that she knew would offer sufficient cover. She hiked up her skirt to avoid tripping.

  Thoughts of leaving him flickered through her mind. Regret and shame crept into her chest, sending an ache throughout. She was unsure whether it was from running or the immediate regret of denouncing Darcy. A silent sob racked throughout her body, and unshed tears burned her eyes. “Foolish Lizzie, he is not worth your tears,” she reprimanded herself. She’d been sure he had an aversion to Anne’s company. Hate and love were a thin line, and apparently, his feelings for Anne had grown.

  She cursed at herself for being so utterly stupid, and cursed at Anne and Darcy, too. She hoped they would be miserable together. Suddenly, as though reflecting her mood, lightning struck a tree before her. A branch snapped, and the crack cut through the air. It dropped too quickly for Elizabeth to evade its path. A sharp, stabbing pain seared through her scalp. Her ears rang from the shock of it. Her mind felt as if it were underwater, and a deep confusion settled in as warm liquid trickled down her face.

  She winced as she lifted her hand to the source of the throbbing pain. Pulling it away, she gasped at the thick crimson dripping from her skin. As she was hit with a wave of nausea, her stomach tightened, her vision blurring. Overwhelmed with agony and hysteria, her body grew heavy. Darkness began to consume her, slowly pulling her into a web of confusion and bleakness.

  Before she lost consciousness, an image flickered in her mind—it would seem her life was passing before her eyes; however, it was not her life. She saw herself trapped inside a metal beast, and she felt flames flickering upon her skin, and she saw a shadow of a man, rescuing her. She reached out for the doppelganger, and cried out; the image began to fade and then it went black.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Derbyshire

  1818

  Elizabeth was drenched and shivering. Her head pounded, and her teeth chattered. So, this is what death is like. Cold and wet. She would’ve preferred the flames of Hell to the damp ground beneath her.

  “Elizabeth.” The voice drifted into her subconscious. She tried to open her eyes, but she found it difficult.

  “Elizabeth,” she heard again.

  Her heart raced. Was this Saint Peter greeting her? Surely not. Why would she be in Heaven when she’d lived a sinful life? She braced herself as she heard someone approaching her. A man’s voice faded in and out. It wasn’t Charles. This mysterious man’s voice was deep and rich, like hot chocolate warming her body.

  Warm breath brushed her face with a whisper, followed by strong arms picking her up.

  “My darling Elizabeth.”

  A gentle kiss pressed against her lips.

  She tried to open her eyes again and to speak, but words wouldn’t come. She wanted to know who belonged to the voice, and how he knew her name.

  “Try not to speak, dearest.”

  That was the last thing she remembered before she was consumed by total darkness.

  ****

  It felt like a lifetime had passed by as she lay there, pale, trembling, and crying out. Darcy’s heart was breaking with each whimper that escaped her lips.

  He was deathly afraid she was going to acquire pneumonia. She had to make it, for him, for the sake of the child growing inside of her. Darcy could not imagine a life without her; she was the air in his lungs and his reason to live. Desperation ate at him as he paced back and forth beside her bed all night. What a damn fool he was! How could he have let such a thing happen? He was furious with himself. He wanted to be mad at Elizabeth for running off and assuming the worst. She of all people should have known the depth of his love for her. “Anne, that damned succubus!”

  After Elizabeth had run off, Darcy stewed in his anger for a short while. When he couldn’t take it any longer, he rushed out to explain what had happened and found her in the gardens, lying deathly still beneath a mutilated oak tree. She was soaking wet, unconscious, and bleeding. After stopping the blood flow with a washcloth, he got her settled in bed. He wanted to hit the wall, but before he could, he heard Elizabeth call out.

  ****

  Finally, after six long hours, Lizzie was awake. He ran to her and placed his hand
in hers. Relief made his legs weak. Anticipating that she must be thirsty, he had the maid fetch her a glass of water. Darcy held the glass steady, covering her shaking hands. She drank eagerly, spilling water down her chin as if she’d not had a drop in years. He found himself chuckling through the grave situation, though it was not funny. His Lizzie was coming back to him! She was incredibly beautiful, even with water spilling down her face like a thirsty child. When she finished her drink, she smiled shyly and thanked him. His brows knitted at her suddenly shy disposition.

  “You are quite welcome, my love.” He kissed her on the lips and discovered that she was still freezing. Her lips were almost blue in color and she still shivered. Darcy called for the servant and told her to fetch the doctor from the study.

  “No, I’m okay. No need to worry.”

  Was she mad? Did she not realize her condition that she was with child?

  “Do not be ridiculous, darling. You are with child, and you are still shivering from the storm. I need to make sure you are healthy and well, both for your and our child’s sake.”

  She looked at him as if he were unhinged. “I am not pregnant, and I do not know you.”

  He blinked. This was far worse than he thought. Was the head injury causing some sort of amnesia? Was she delirious? There was a knock on the door. The maid answered it and the doctor walked straight toward Elizabeth, giving her a once-over.

  “Doctor, I am afraid that her injury has put her in a state of delirium, for she does not remember me!” The doctor looked at her with concern, and back to Darcy.

  “Do not fear the worst yet, my dear boy.”

  The doctor approached her. “Elizabeth, dear, do you know who I am?”

  She looked at him meticulously and shook her head.

  “I am Dr. Lansing,” he replied.

  “Do you know where you are?” he probed.

  She shook her head again.

  “Doctor, please tell me that the child was not harmed.” Again, the doctor examined her.

  “Darcy, my dear boy. All is well, though I am afraid that she does have some sort of delusion.” He reached for his bag and handed Darcy a dark glass bottle of laudanum.

  Her eyes grew wide, mouth agape, at the mention of Darcy’s name. What the fuck. She studied the scene before her, and looked around, her heart banging wildly in her chest. She took a deep breath as she gripped the sheet that covered her; she needed something tangible and real to ground her. As they continued to speak in whispers, she surveyed the dimly lit room. She squinted her eyes to make out the two men in front of her. Darcy was the spitting image of the man she had met at the bar. Impossible! Is he some kind of stalker, did he fucking kidnap me? Why is he talking so weird?

  She was furious. “William, what the fuck is all of this? Why am I here? I knew you had a thing for Pride and Prejudice, but this is ridiculous.” She gasped, her voice foreign to her ears. She sounded British; this caused her to freak out more. “I’m dead, this is not real at all.”

  Darcy and Dr. Lansing turned around. Concern was etched upon Darcy’s face as he strode toward her.

  She did a mental slap. Fuck me, she groaned internally.

  Darcy held her hand silently and caressed her face.

  “Elizabeth, my love, why are you spewing such vile things? Why do you call me William? It is Fitzwilliam.” He ran his fingers through his hair, desperation and hurt in his eyes. He turned to the doctor, pleading for answers.

  Dr. Lansing cleared his throat. “Put a drop of this in her water for a week, and she should be fine.” His voice was strained with optimism.

  “If her condition worsens, then I am afraid it will most likely be permanent.” He patted Darcy on the shoulder. As they walked through the door, the doctor spoke quietly. “If this is the case, I would look at sending her away to receive full-time care.”

  Darcy’s eyes clouded with anger, a vein throbbing at his temple as he spat, “I shall do no such thing. Elizabeth will be well looked after under my care.”

  The doctor went silent as Darcy escorted him out and shut the door behind him, leaving a desperately heartbroken Darcy alone with his Elizabeth. He wondered if she knew how it pained him so brutally, that she would think he had kidnapped her and had forgotten the life they’d shared before the incident with Anne. Curse that wench, for she would pay if Elizabeth never returned to herself. He grabbed a glass of water, put in one drop of laudanum, and gave it to her to drink. She glanced at him, her brows lowered in skepticism. He cleared his throat in annoyance, silently pleading with her.

  ****

  Despite his irritation, she found him terribly handsome as he towered over her. He didn’t seem like the kidnapping type, but she was skeptical and still wanted answers. Even though she was furious, she found him sexier than at their first meeting at the bar. His raven hair was disheveled, and he sported a five o’clock shadow. His gorgeous brown eyes reflected both fear and love. Her pulse quickened at his beauty, and the more she studied him, the more she relaxed, though she knew she should be on her guard, and try to leave and find a phone to call Jo to rescue her. She fought the urge to run her fingers through his hair. She spaced out, turning red with embarrassment at her fascination with him. She realized that he stood there with the glass still in his hand. Darcy’s narrowed eyes did not soften. He most definitely intimidated her, and she was determined not to get on his bad side. She reluctantly took the glass from him and gulped it down to appease him. As she drank, she noticed relief pass through Darcy’s gaze. She wanted to throw up immediately, as the laudanum hit her hard; her head grew fuzzy, and the bitter taste upon her tongue made her gag. She wished she wasn’t so quick to please him. Her vision grew blurry and her eyelids heavy. He took the glass from her before she slipped away into a drug-induced sleep. She wanted to fight the heaviness that washed over her. She silently prayed she would wake up and find a way out of there, and that he wasn’t trying to kill her or have his way with her.

  Before she fell asleep, anxiety crept over her. She pushed her doubts aside—hostage or not, she was walking on thin ice, and she was positive that she would awake to find that this was just a bad dream, or she was in purgatory.

  ****

  Darcy watched Elizabeth sleep, and caressed her hair softly. He was haunted by the bewildered look she had given him before she fell asleep. It was as if she was afraid of him attacking her. He felt ashamed and rejected that his own wife saw him as someone who would hurt her.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Elizabeth tossed and turned. Images of a fiery crash flashed before her eyes, and of someone pulling her from her car before it burst into flames. The impact of the crash felt so real, jolting her body as she lay there. She awoke in a pool of sweat and with tears running down her face. She felt arms wrap around her softly and lips press against her temple in a tender kiss.

  “Hush, my darling, all is well.” She nuzzled into his arms and fell back to sleep. This sense of security couldn’t be real, but she didn’t care, because for once in her life, she felt safe and loved.

  His mood darkened with torment.

  When he’d heard his love call out for a ‘Charles’ in her sleep, jealousy and confusion had eaten at him. Was he another lover? Once she fell back to sleep and there were no signs of restlessness, he carefully removed himself from the bed. Quietly creeping out of the bedroom, he closed the door behind him, went to the study, and rummaged through Elizabeth’s correspondences with her sister and family. There was no mention of a Charles, nor any letters from him. Darcy internally berated himself for doubting Elizabeth; she would never be unfaithful to him.

  He did, however, find an unsent letter to her sister, Jane. Curiosity got the better of him and he decided to read it, because his own name caught his eye.

  My dearest Jane,

  How I miss you and our adventures. I do hope you come and visit me soon. I am dreadfully sad, as Darcy has left me alone with Anise on several occasions. Apparently, he was needed by his tenants. He has seeme
d more brooding than usual after a visit from his cousin, Anne. I do not like her at all, Jane, for she appears to be too fond of him. It seems to be more than just innocent cousin love that she feels for him. Apparently, he finds her insolent and a mere child; at least that is what he says when she visits. He detests her visits. I am unsure as to why she does not recognize his distaste for her and leave him be. He is unaware, dear sister, that I am insecure around her, and I am afraid that one day he may give in to her persistence and choose her over me. Please be the voice of reason, as you are on many occasions, and tell me I am a fool for thinking of such notions. Please, I implore that you visit me soon before I commit myself to the asylum for missing his presence dearly and falling prey to my imagination.

  Your loving sister,

  Elizabeth

  Darcy swallowed, deeply unsettled that he hadn’t known of Elizabeth’s suspicion of Anne and her fear that she might be set aside for that vile creature. Though relief made it easier to breathe. She wasn’t cuckolding him with a man named Charles. He believed her to be innocent, doubting that she would keep something so atrocious from Jane. However, he would rather endure bodily harm than hear his wife call out another man’s name in her sleep. Carefully placing the letters back in their proper place, he blew out the candle, and decided to sleep in his bedchamber rather than wake Elizabeth from her peaceful slumber.

  ****

  When Elizabeth awoke the next morning, she turned to face Darcy, finding the space beside her empty. Her head felt clearer than yesterday, and she looked around at her surroundings, recognizing nothing familiar. The first thing she noticed was that she was dressed in a nightgown that her grandmother would wear.

  “Don’t freak out. There must be an explanation to all of this, he didn’t seem crazy when we met.” She tried to remember what happened the day before, coming up blank. She had a tough time remembering anything after catching Charles in bed with another, and that fact haunted her, leaving her wondering if she had been drugged. She surveyed her surroundings, which should have screamed that he had built some sort of sick and twisted prison. It was straight out of a set from Downton Abbey. She was in the comforts of a rich mahogany four-poster bed, which she loved. She jumped out of bed, eager to touch everything. She ran her fingers against the smooth wood of the bed and then the nightstand in awe. There was a red velvet chaise, trimmed in gold and detailed with ivy, and she gasped in utter admiration; it was gorgeous. Before she could move over to the window, the doorknob turned.