by E Bradshaw
Sorrow and Second Chances
A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Dedication
‘Sorrow & Second Chances – A Pride and Prejudice Variation’
This book is dedicated to both Jane Austen, whose wonderful stories I have always loved, and to my husband, who has always supported me. It is additionally dedicated to my daughter, who was born only eight months before this book was published.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Epilogue
Chapter 1
21st May 1812Darcy House, London
Darcy stared out of the window, brooding quietly to himself as had become his habit in recent times. Several weeks had now passed since his disastrous marriage proposal to Miss Elizabeth Bennet at Easter time, but even now he still found himself wallowing over it and feeling completely wretched every time he remembered her harsh words of refusal. Oblivious to all else around him, his thoughts drifted once again down familiar and obsessively-repeated paths into an increasingly negative spiral, remembering with acute humiliation what he had said to her that day – and what she had said to him in return. Though it was immensely painful to dwell on what had happened between them, her voice still echoed relentlessly in his head, once again repeating the words that she had thrown at him then. “You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Darcy took a sharp intake of breath and shook his head, as if physically trying to shake her cruel words out of his mind. Those words still had the power to hurt him, even now. He had poured his feelings out to her in a heartfelt, reckless declaration – and in return she had stamped on his heart and made him feel like an utter fool. He scoffed derisively to himself as he thought of it; he was a fool, he reminded himself. He – who had land and power, connections and wealth – had begged a slip of a girl, who had neither a fortune nor respectable connections, to marry him. He – who with a snap of his fingers could have arranged a match with any of the aristocratic and landed families of England if he had so wanted – had been spurned by a young woman who had absolutely nothing beside herself to offer.
Nothing to offer – and yet she was the only woman he wanted. God, how he wanted her! It didn’t matter how many times he repeatedly told himself to forget her, to put her out of his mind and move on, for she remained ever-present in his thoughts like a form of incurable madness. His yearning for her was like a burning obsession, an unquenched thirst, an unshakeable malady. It was even worse at night, when he had nothing else to distract himself with, for it was then that he was left all alone with his torturous thoughts. He had tossed and turned in his bed every night since her rejection and still he could get no rest, nor find any escape from her. All he could think of when he lay alone in his bed was her – and of what he wanted to do to her.
In his fantasies he had seduced her over and over again; he had stripped her and had kissed her and had released the wild abandon in her that he knew lay just beneath the surface of her well-behaved veneer. He had always watched her – studied her, in fact – ever since the earliest days of their acquaintance, paying close attention to every nuance of her interactions with others and carefully watching her face to try and discover her innermost thoughts. As a consequence of these observations, he had taken note of her liveliness, her wit, and her easy charm. All of these things were easy to notice about her, of course; he imagined that anyone with eyes in their head could see how she stood out and dazzled amongst all other women. But there was something else about her that he suspected most people would not see unless they were particularly close to her. He had seen how loyally and devotedly she loved; how fiercely she protected those she cared about, and – damn her for her wilfulness – how stubbornly she clung to her opinions.
Elizabeth Bennet was no whey-faced, half-witted, compliant woman. She wouldn’t sit quietly and submissively during tedious sitting-room discussions and absent-mindedly nod her head in agreement with whatever the consensus was. She wasn’t the sort to smile sweetly at a man and meekly concede with whatever he said, just to be agreeable, as he had seen so many others of her sex do. No, instead she knew her own mind; she was opinionated – and even downright confrontational when she wanted to be.
She must have known how some men were put off by her forthrightly-expressed opinions and her quick wit, but she simply didn’t seem to care. She was, in truth, a difficult woman – and he loved her all the more for that. He knew very well that he, too, was reckoned by many to be a difficult man – but society tended to forgive such traits in a man which simply weren’t overlooked in a woman. However, it was very clear that – despite whatever society as a whole might think of such behaviour – Elizabeth was just not the sort of woman to play at being compliant and submissive in order to flatter a man’s ego. She was patently shrewd enough to play such games if she had wanted to, but unlike women of Caroline Bingley’s ilk, Elizabeth clearly had no such aspirations to marry a man simply for his wealth and position. Evidently – as he had found out to his eternal despair – she would not be induced into marriage if she did not respect the man who asked her.
Unbidden, her words once again flooded back to him. “I have every reason in the world to think ill of you.” Pained by his memories, Darcy abruptly shrugged his shoulders, as if physically trying to rid himself of the words that she had flung at him that day. She had certainly said enough to make her distaste for him patently and abundantly clear. He inwardly winced as he remembered his confidence that day; he had blithely assumed that she would be completely agreeable – grateful even – for his offer, and that consequently she would quickly accept his proposal. He had even pictured them sealing their betrothal with a kiss – something that he had long fantasised about – but her cutting words had made it all too clear that her feelings were not what his had been.
Oh yes, she certainly had opinions and a mind of her own, and she wasn’t afraid to show it. And nor was she afraid to express her views if the person she was speaking to was spouting nonsense – which most people invariably were, in his opinion. He had often found himself wondering how such an intelligent person as Elizabeth could have been born to such a feather-brained woman as Mrs Bennet, and moreover how she could stand the tedium of the endless and meaningless conversation which he had had to endure whilst he had been residing amongst Meryton society. He knew that she intellectually outstripped most other people in her little society, and yet Darcy had never once seen Elizabeth patronise her neighbours or become irritated with their prattling nonsense, as he had. “From the very beginning – from the very first moment, I may say – of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressed me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain for the feelings of others...”
He blinked rapidly, feeling distraught all over again to hear her critical words resounding in his head. It had taken him some time to acknowledge the truth of her judgments about him at first, but over the last few weeks he had reflected on his behaviour and had begun to appreciate how well founded some of her criticisms had been. For a while he had been too angry with her to do more than rail against her ill-founded conclusion
s and her foolish defence of Wickham, but after a longer period of reflection, he had begun to recognise that much of what she had said to him had in fact been correct. Her words had been harsh, but he still could not deny the accuracy of her judgments; he had been arrogant and conceited; he had been uncaring as to what anyone else had thought of him. Indeed, he was still mortified over half the things he had said to her whenever he thought back over their prior conversations.
“I had not known you a month before I felt you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.” God damn her! How could he be so powerless and weak? Why could he not assert control over himself where she was concerned? He longed to be able to shut her out of his mind forever; to forget her cruel words, to forget her face and everything about her. But he simply could not. She was indelibly etched into his mind forever, and he knew that his heart would carry the name of Elizabeth Bennet until his dying day.
He couldn’t help but feel bitter about it, and sometimes, in his darkest moments of despair and anger, Darcy even found himself wishing similar heartbreak upon her. He wanted her to feel as he did; desperate and unhappy – and filled with inexorable longing. He knew he would never be happy with any other woman; in fact, he felt sure that his relentless misery over Elizabeth would condemn any other woman unlucky enough to marry him to a life of pitiful loneliness. He couldn’t wish his own despair on anyone else, and so he had resolved that he would not marry another. If he couldn’t have Elizabeth, then there seemed no point in putting up a pretence; he was too scrupulous to tell falsehoods to a woman and make her believe that he loved her when he patently couldn’t – and so he had instead begun to try and prepare himself for a life of solitude.
Nevertheless, he dreaded the day when he would one day read of Elizabeth’s betrothal to another, for he felt certain that such news would inevitably send him over the brink. He knew that his family and closest friends had been concerned about him over the last few weeks; they had noticed his weight loss and his unusual apathy, and they had all tried in their own ways to take care of him. His kind-hearted aunt, Lady Matlock, had tutted over him with great concern and had advised him not to work so hard, whilst his uncle had firmly instructed him that he must see his physician. Poor Georgiana was at a loss to understand him, though she had tried in every way she could think of to lighten his spirits. Only his cousin Richard knew what truly lay behind his brooding moods and his depressed spirits – and even he had struggled to know how best to offer consolation.
Darcy had no wish to be a burden to his family, and nor did he wish to cause them any anxiety on his behalf. Thus, endeavouring to be as practical-minded and diligent as he had always been, he had tried very hard to hide his inner turmoil from those around him, and to focus his mind instead upon his responsibilities. To everyone around him, he therefore continued to appear as the calm and composed Master of Pemberley; he ate his meals, he conducted his business affairs, he spoke to his servants and he attended social gatherings. Nevertheless, he knew that most people were not fooled by his act; even those acquaintances who did not know him very well had begun to comment on how pale and drawn he was, whilst he knew that his closest relations still fretted about him in private and speculated together over his misery.
He knew that people were just showing their concern for him, but he had begun to feel heartily sick of being asked each and every day how he was and having to fend off questions as to what was wrong with him. Sometimes he even wanted to tell them, for he felt sure that such blunt honesty would immediately silence their questions. But what he really longed to do in his darkest moments of despair was to ride over to Longbourn; to find Elizabeth and to stop her words of protest and denial by crushing his lips to hers. He wanted to plead with her to reconsider; he would beg at her feet if necessary and force her to agree to his plea to marry him. Indeed, he acknowledged to himself that there had been a part of him that had wanted to force her to accept him on that fateful day; a dark influence that had wanted to make her say yes, even if that meant coercing her against her will.
He closed his eyes against such dark, depraved temptations, and swallowed hard as he attempted to reassert control over himself and suppress such wild thoughts. He could not help but feel that Elizabeth’s harsh words against him had been all too accurate – and he was ashamed of himself for having even contemplated such despicable notions. He could not bear the idea that her most hurtful condemnation of him could in fact be true – that he had not behaved in a gentlemanlike manner. In other words, that he was not a gentleman – and fundamentally, in her eyes at least, that he had never acted with true honour or been led by proper principles.
He was quite sure that she had no concept of how gravely her words had haunted him ever since she had first flung them at him, but nevertheless it was this opinion, above all the other negative impressions which she had formed of him, which had continued to plague him the most. “You are mistaken, Mr Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.” Perhaps he wasn’t a gentleman, after all, he considered wretchedly to himself.
*****
“Darcy!” Richard’s voice abruptly broke into his consciousness, forcibly cutting though the downward spiral of his thoughts. “You’ve not been listening to a bloody thing I’ve said, have you?”
Startled, Darcy turned from the window to look at his cousin. It was true; he hadn’t been listening to a word that Richard had said to him, and he could tell by the exasperated look on Richard’s face that he knew it all too well.
“I’m sorry, Richard,” Darcy replied apologetically. “I missed what you said just now. I was lost in my thoughts. What were you saying?”
“Oh, never mind,” sighed Richard irritably; “it will wait, I suppose. You are always lost in your own thoughts these days.”
“Sorry; I suppose I am a little tired, that’s all.”
“You might be able to fob off my mother and father with such nonsense, but not me,” retorted Richard. “I am not a fool, so please don’t attempt to treat me as one. You’ve been completely absent-minded and miserable ever since Miss Bennet rejected you.”
“Thank you for the reminder, Richard,” snapped Darcy, feeling stung by his cousin’s blunt words. “I assure you I do not need them.”
“Look, I’m sorry to speak so bluntly, Darcy; you know I have no wish to hurt your feelings – but I really feel that the time has come for you to do something decisive about it. You’ve spent near-on the last six weeks brooding at home and it’s not achieved anything at all.”
“Meaning what exactly?” asked Darcy, with an eyebrow raised in obvious irritation.
“Meaning that you need to stop moping around here, feeling sorry for yourself, and instead go to Longbourn. Don’t take no for an answer; plead with Miss Bennet to listen to you and make your case to her.”
“I told you before; she’s not interested,” answered Darcy with a despondent shake of his head. “She can’t abide me; she made that much abundantly clear.”
“And you’re going to lie down and take that, are you?” retorted Richard in an abrupt tone. “What’s happened to my fearsome cousin? You get one set-back and you simply give up? I thought you had guts, Darcy! You obviously don’t love her as deeply as I thought you did, otherwise you would surely keep trying to win her over!”
Darcy swivelled an angry glare towards his cousin. He knew what Richard was trying to do, but he didn’t appreciate having salt rubbed into his wounds. He was already suffering enough, without being baited with such provocation. “And what am I supposed to do?” he growled angrily in response. “Am I to stalk her, even if she says no to my plea? Am I to lurk around Longbourn and make her feel too frightened to venture out? Should I force her into marrying me? Are you advising me to compromise her?”
Richard regarded Darcy with a wide-eyed expression of surprise; he
looked genuinely disturbed by his cousin’s agitation. “Alright, cousin!” he soothed, with a calming gesture of his hands. “There’s no need to growl at me! I was simply trying to give you some advice and find a solution to your heartbreak, that’s all. I stand by my advice, though; I genuinely think you need to return to Hertfordshire and see Miss Bennet again. There’s far too much unfinished business between the two of you – but of course I didn’t mean for you to compromise her! Whatever do you think of me, Darcy, to think that I could be suggesting such a thing?”
Darcy exhaled audibly and rubbed his palm across his mouth as he tried to force himself to calm down. “I’m sorry,” he muttered softly. “I’m not myself at the moment.”
“I know you are not,” replied Richard in a gentler tone as he approached. Cautiously, as if fearful over his cousin’s current mood, he put his hand on Darcy’s shoulder and carefully steered him towards a nearby armchair in order to sit him down. “We’re all worried about you, you know,” Richard continued, as his cousin wearily conceded to his prompting and sat down heavily in the chair.
Frowning to himself at Darcy’s uncharacteristic compliance, Richard took a seat in the opposite armchair. Darcy remained silent, and so Richard pressed ahead with his argument while his cousin seemed willing enough to listen. “Georgiana is especially anxious over your low mood; she keeps asking me what has happened to you, and what it is that ails you. I am beginning to feel guilty about making so many excuses to her and disguising the truth from her so often. I am beginning to think that it would be far fairer to her if you simply told her the truth about what happened between you and Miss Bennet.”
“No!” Darcy’s head abruptly shot up and he regarded his cousin with sudden consternation. “My sister shouldn’t have to be burdened with my misery. It took her long enough to recover from that debacle with Wickham last summer, and I don’t want her to be distressed with my troubles as well.”