Mr Darcy's Struggle Read online

  Mr Darcy’s

  Struggle

  A Pride & Prejudice Variation

  By

  Martine J Roberts

  &

  A Lady

  Copyright:

  Published by Martine J Roberts

  Copyright © 2014 by Martine J Roberts

  All rights reserve. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, or by electronic mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews - without permission in writing from the publisher, Martine J Roberts.

  All the characters and events described in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my entire family, for their forbearance with my obsession of all things Jane Austen, especially Mr Darcy. With a special thank you to Lady Lacey Brooks, whose enthusiasm and support was unwavering.

  Contact & Follow Me Here

  www.martinejaneroberts.com

  www.twitter.com/LizzieAndDarcyx

  www.facebook.com/lovejaneausten2

  This Novel is written using English UK. While some spelling, punctuation and grammar may vary to English US, they are correct for the version used.

  Acknowledgement

  Jane Austen has inspired many generations of writers to put pen to paper, including me. From the age of nine when I was first introduced to her baby, Pride & Prejudice, I have been in love with its characters, especially Mr Darcy. In my alternative version, have tried to follow her example, by adding a few twists and turns to the plot, while conveying the emotions, and desires of young lovers. I would like to thank her for bringing these people into our lives, for without Jane and her wonderful imagination, the world would be a sadder place. I hope you enjoy it.

  Cover image by kind permission of Sandwell Museum Service.

  Also

  By this author

  Darcy to the Rescue

  (Sample after epilogue)

  To Love Mr Darcy

  (Sample after epilogue)

  Table of 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

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  EPILOGUE

  Prologue

  The start of the year had been one full of disappointment, fever, and regret.

  Regrettably, Mr Bingleys’ departure from Netherfield House, had seen the establishment closed since November last year. With no word from him or his sisters, Jane has suffered miserably from a broken heart. A planned visit to her Aunt Gardiner, which was meant to help restore her spirits, had been cancelled when Mrs Gardiners was called away to nurse a sick aunt. Due to the duration of this confinement, it also meant Elizabeth’s planned trip to the lakes was also cancelled.

  The militia, who were due to be relocated to Brighton, had found themselves stuck in Meryton for several extra months. This was due to an outbreak of the dysentery fever. First, the enlisted men contracted it, but it soon spread to the officers. Even Colonel Forster and Mr Wickham had succumbed. The camp had been quarantined for months while they fought to eradicate the outbreak and restore the soldiers back to health.

  Elizabeth too had had her share of disappointments. Her expected visit to Charlotte and Mr Collins had fallen by the wayside when Sir William Lucas suffered a prolonged bout of gout. It had taken many months of abstinence before it cleared up, much to his dismay.

  Even though it was now late September, nothing could dampen the sense of excitement that was buzzing around the inhabitants of Longbourn.

  Jane was off to visit her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner in London.

  The militia had been sent to Brighton, in the hope, the sea air would aid their recuperation. And due to the delay, Mrs Bennet had been able to browbeat poor Mr Bennet into letting her and the three youngest Bennet children go too.

  And finally, Elizabeth was to visit her dear friend, Charlotte, a pleasure that was long overdue.

  And now the story continues.

  CHAPTER 1

  As Elizabeth paced the room, her temper rose. How could she have been so foolish as to let Mr Darcy get under her skin so? If only she had remained calm and acted in a dignified and ladylike manner, she would not be in this predicament. And now she could see no way out but the one offered by him. Stamping her foot in frustration, she folded her arms and sat on the edge of her bed. When he had declared himself and offered her his hand in marriage, she should have just refused politely, and hoped he would leave. But oh no, she had to use the opportunity to vent her ire at him about Jane and Mr Wickham. Stupid, stupid girl she chided herself. She rose and walked over to the window. It afforded her a clear view of Rosings, Lady Catherine De Burgh’s stately home. With a sigh, she sat in the window seat, brought her knees up under her chin, and hugged them to her chest. Resting her head back, she closed her eyes and reviewed the events of the afternoon.

  Unbeknown to Elizabeth, Mr Darcy also remembered their encounter!

  Having received some shocking information from Colonel Fitzwilliam, namely about Mr Darcy’s involvement in the separation of Jane and Mr Bingley, Elizabeth had begged off going to Rosings that afternoon. Instead, she had stayed at the parsonage to read over some of Jane’s old letters. Although they were full of accounts of outings and shopping while she was staying with her aunt, Elizabeth could detect no gaiety in the tone of the writing. It was clear to her that her sister was still suffering from a broken heart.

  Thinking of Jane made Elizabeth long to be home, that she might comfort her sister. Lost in thought, she was startled when she heard the doorbell and subsequently a male voice. Ruefully, she refolded the letters and put them on the table just before Mr Darcy entered.

  “Forgive me, you are feeling better?” he enquired as he strode into the room. His presence seemed to fill the small parlour, and Elizabeth’s eyes could not help but be drawn to the contours of his toned muscles, visible under his well-fitting jacket and trousers. She noticed his countenance and thought how agitated he looked, distracted even, as he entered.

  “I am sir, thank you, will you not sit down,” Elizabeth responded.

  She tried to hide her displeasure at seeing him, as purposely took the seat by the window. She folded her hands in her lap and waited for him to speak. He had invaded her solitude and therefore, she was not inclined to put him at his ease. He placed his hat and gloves on the table and turned as if to address her. Instead, he walked to the chair by the fire and sat down. Elizabeth was puzzled, why had he come to call; he must know everyone else was at Rosings, having only just left there himself? Surely it could not be to scold her for missing tea with his aunt. Perhaps Colonel Fitzwilliam had informed him of their earlier conversation, and he had come to offer his excuses.

  She felt, rather than saw his piercing gaze, and when she cast him a sidelong glance, her suspicion was confirmed, he
was studying her intently. It was most unnerving. He rose from his chair and came to stand before her. It was clear something was troubling him, and she wished he would just say what he needed too, and then leave. Then he took up his familiar stance, with his hands folded behind his back, and finally began to speak,

  “These many months I have struggled in vain, and I can bear it no longer. You must allow me to express my feelings, and to unburden myself, in telling you how ardently, I admire and love you.”

  He was making her an offer? He, who had declared she was tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt him.

  “By revealing the depth of my regard for you, I will, of course, court the displeasure and censure of my family, my friends, and possibly the whole of society. I hardly need to add it goes against my own character too, but it cannot be helped,” he continued.

  She hoped the shock she felt had not registered on her face, but this was the last thing she expected from the proud and arrogant Fitzwilliam Darcy. With her own thoughts in turmoil, she only caught a few of his words as he continued with his proposal,

  “… alliance between us must be regarded as highly reprehensible … regard it as such myself.”

  Noticing her raised brows, he paused briefly and then resumed.

  “… which despite my struggle has overcome every rational objection, and I must beg you, most fervently, to relieve my suffering and consent to be my wife.”

  Elizabeth was speechless. The man who had purposefully separated her beloved sister from the man she loved, declaring her unworthy due to her lack of fortune and low social standing, was now making her an offering. He was certainly audacious! And if this was his notion of a proposal, it sorely lacked any inducement for her to accept. Insulting her family, and their position in society was hardly conducive to receiving a positive reply.

  Drawing a breath, she took a moment to contrive her answer. Even through her anger at his interference, she was conscious of the honour he was bestowing on her.

  Speaking slowly, and with thought, she replied,

  “In such cases as this, it is, I believe, the established mode to express a sense of obligation for the sentiment avowed. If I could feel such gratitude, I would now thank you,” she paused before adding, “but I cannot. I have never desired your good opinion, Mr Darcy, and you have certainly been most reluctant to bestow it. I am sincerely sorry that my refusal may cause you pain, but I hope it will be of a short duration.”

  She knew she had been curt in her reply, but the mode of his declaration had been quite insulting.

  The look of surprise and puzzlement on his face, as he tried to comprehend that he had been rejected, held Elizabeth, and she could not look away.

  Darcy walked over to the mantelpiece then turned to face her again. No, he was not wrong; she was earnest in her rejection. This was not the reply he had been expecting. He was sure she had been aware of his intentions and indeed, had returned them. Clearly, she had not thought about what such an advantageous marriage could mean to her, to her family.

  Fixing his eyes on her, he tried to give the appearance of composure while inside he was feeling anything but.

  In a tone of forced calmness, he asked, “And this is your answer? I might wonder why with so little endeavour at civility, I am thus rejected.”

  "And I might enquire why you thought insulting me would result in a positive reply. You just told me that you liked me against your will, your better judgement. That you have struggled for months, in an attempt to overcome your feeling for me, is this not motive enough for incivility, if I was uncivil?” she replied with a lift of her chin.

  "Besides, I have good reason to think ill of you now, and even though I had thought favourably towards you at one time, you have driven such feeling away.”

  “How have I undone your affections? Have I not treated you with respect and courteously at all times?”

  “Do you deny separating, Mr Bingley and my sister?”

  His jaw tightened, and his face grew pale, which made Elizabeth pause for thought. Had she had gone too far, been too outspoken, she wondered? A man of Darcy’s stature and rank was not accustomed to having a woman speak to him thus. She had no doubt that he expected her to accept his proposal at once, to even feel honoured. Indeed, had she not learned of his meddling in Jane and Mr Bingley’s courtship, she would have given his declaration serious consideration. He was a far better prospect than Mr Collins had ever been.

  “I have no wish to deny it and rejoice in my success,” Darcy responded, and then muttered, “To him, I have been kinder than towards myself.”

  Elizabeth drew a sharp breath at this admission of guilt and rose from her seat. Ignoring all propriety of the distance that should be observed between a single man and woman, she entered Mr Darcy’s sphere.

  “Long before that event, my opinion of you was decided when I heard of your dealings with, Mr Wickham,” she challenged.

  Darcy’s eyes narrowed, and the colour rose in his face. Closing the gap between them still further, Darcy now stood only a hand span from Elizabeth. Wickham! Once again that man’s meddling in his life was causing him pain. He should have called him out last summer and finished it.

  “You take an eager interest in that gentleman, madam; I was unaware you were privy to all our dealings together,” he said, looking calmer than he was feeling.

  The intense darkness of his eyes betrayed the anger that was brooding under the surface.

  This did not escape Elizabeth’s notice, but she had come this far and so continued.

  “He has suffered great misfortune and at your hand's sir.”

  “His misfortunes,” Darcy repeated softly, no longer trying to hide the contempt in his voice, “yes, his misfortunes have been great indeed, but not at my hand madam, believe me. And so this is your opinion of me! I see Wickham’s sentiments echoed in your words, and you believe my faults are heavy indeed. Perhaps you would have overlooked these offences had I been less honest. Had I concealed my struggles, flattered you maybe? But disguise of any kind is abhorrent to me. Did you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your connections? To congratulate myself on an alliance with relations whose conditions in life is so decidedly below my own?”

  Elizabeth’s anger now rose to match Darcy’s. To think such a thing was bad enough, but for him to avowal it to her in person, was beyond contemptible.

  With their faces now only a whisper apart, she retorted,

  “You are mistaken, Mr Darcy. The mode of your declaration has spared me any concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”

  She knew her arrow had hit its mark when she saw his body stiffen and heard the sharp intake of breath as she questioned his honour. She had wanted to hurt him, for the pain he had caused her beloved Jane, which he had admitted with pride.

  As she boldly returned his stare, she became aware of how close they had become, the heat from his body mingled with his scent seemed to wash over her.

  His astonishment was obvious as he looked at her with an expression of both incredulity and mortification.

  Deciding to make her point crystal clear, she continued,

  “Your arrogance, your conceit, and total disregard for the feelings of others appal me. Were you the last man in the world, even that inducement would not be enough to prevail upon me to marry you.”

  Breathing heavily, she paused to catch her breath, but before she could resume her diatribe, Darcy interjected.

  “I think you have said quite enough now, madam. I understand you find my proposal quite disgusting, although it was made with genuine affection. I now feel ashamed for expressing what my own feelings have been.”

  The silence between them was palpable. Darcy knew after receiving such a stinging assassination of his character he should retreat, yet he felt held by an invisible force.

  Examining her face, he saw her eyes were bright, and her cheeks were flushed from the exertion of their encounter, and
the pleasant smell of lavender permeated his nostrils. The darkness in Darcy’s eyes, which had moments ago been due to anger, was now replaced with desire. He liked that she did not cower from him, that she had stood her ground and made her case, even if some of it was erroneous. God, she was beautiful, with her chin held defiantly high, and her bosom heaving. Darcy savoured the image. What a wife she would have been, passionate in all things, he was sure. Remembering he had been soundly rejected, a notion formed in his head. If she would not have him, the likelihood of them meeting again was slim. Could he risk tasting those sweet lips, just once? They were alone, and he had nothing to lose; he would regard it as a farewell gesture.

  Slowly, Darcy put his arm around her waist, and as he did so, he lowered his head and gently brushed Elizabeth’s lips with his own. They were soft and warm, and her breath was sweet, just as he had imagined.

  Drawing back, he waited for her to scream or to feel the sting of a well-deserved slap, but nothing came.

  Darcy raised his right hand to tilt her chin, then gently brushing her cheek with the back of his hand as he tried to read her reaction to his bold advance.

  Elizabeth knew when she felt Darcy’s arm slip around her waist that he would kiss her. She knew she should object, struggle or call for help. But she also knew she would not. As she had delivered the final words of her attack, she realised that her whole body was tingling with excitement. It was for this reason she had paused. Being so close to this man had been exciting, exhilarating and she had never felt so alive. Elizabeth realised she wanted his lips to deliver her first ever kiss, in fact, she had almost held her breath as she anticipated its arrival. Then it was over, the briefest of touches. A pleasant experience, but not quite as she had imagined it would be.