Darcy’s Duel (The Bennet and Darcy Chronicles: Short Jane Austen Adaptations #2)

Chapter 1

1

E lizabeth Bennet was not of the opinion that all wealthy single men were in want of a wife. Nor did she think all were desirable. Her friend Charlotte had chosen security and a marriage to Mr. Collins, someone she herself had refused. But she couldn’t find fault with her friend. She would inherit Longhorn after all.

Lizzie had come visiting the Collins’ and reaffirmed her own choice in refusing Mr. Collins while at the same time found happiness for her friend’s contentment.

Rosings Park was really very beautiful. Proximity to the lovely estate was all that Mr. Collins had boasted it would be. Her room in his home was well maintained. All in all, weeks living with her best friend Charlotte and Mr. Collins were a pleasant break from life at home in Longbourn.

Jane was in London. Lizzie had just finished reading a letter from her, and news was not encouraging. Jane had not as yet received any callers, not from a hoped-for-suitor Bingley nor his sisters. Elizabeth was concerned that perhaps her sister had truly lost Bingley forever. Lizzie was of no help there.

Nor at home.

Her sisters were completely captivated by the visiting militia and spoke of nothing else.

The weather in Kent, the long walks, even the diversion of an overly involved and opinionated Lady Catherine were welcome distractions.

Lizzie hadn’t accounted for the presence of Mr. Darcy who was not as unpleasant as he had been, nor his cousin Colonel Fitzwilliam who was lovely and engaging.

She’d never forgive Darcy for meddling with her sister’s happiness, but at least she could endure his presence easier when he was being pleasant, attentive even. He’d come and turned pages for her while playing for Lady Catherine’s guests.

Elizabeth folded over Jane’s latest letter, the contents of which left her with a lingering sense of unease. She had much to think about in regards to Jane and very few solutions to bring back a smile to her beloved sister’s face.

The sudden opening of the parsonage door startled her from her thoughts.

She turned swiftly, and to her astonishment, Mr. Darcy stood before her.

His countenance was marked by an agitation she had never before seen, and though his bearing was as proud as ever, there was in his manner a degree of hesitation wholly unfamiliar to him.

Elizabeth rose at once, her breath catching involuntarily at the look in his eyes—intense, unguarded, and entirely fixed upon her. “Hello Mr. Darcy.” She dipped in a slow curtsy.

He began abruptly.

"I have fought against it but it will not do. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you."

Elizabeth stiffened, scarcely able to believe the words she had heard. “Pardon me?” She choked out her response, but barely.

Darcy pressed on, pacing slightly as he spoke, as though struggling against the force of his own emotions. "I have battled against my inclinations for months," he admitted, his voice low and urgent. "From the very first, my affections were contrary to my reason, my judgment, my very sense of propriety. But you have bewitched me—I can fight it no longer. These past weeks have only confirmed what I have tried so desperately to deny—I am yours, Miss Bennet, entirely and completely."

Elizabeth flushed deeply but remained silent, her thoughts a whirl, emotions whipping through every which way and none of them pleasant.

Darcy took a steadying breath, as if prepared to offer something more.

"Had my feelings been indifferent, I should never have allowed myself to act on them. The strength of my attachment has overcome every rational objection I might have made. You must see—you must know—that it is only for you that I set aside all considerations of rank and connection. The inferiority of your family, the great disparity in our social standings, all of it, have been overcome by the strength of my feelings."

His words, spoken in such earnest, struck Elizabeth like a blow.

She stiffened.

“And if you would allow, I ask, would you end my turmoil and be my wife?”

Stunned, she stared at him a moment more, wondering if he would laugh or retract his words or explain them but he continued to look on in earnest. Baffled, and admittedly highly angry, she attempted a response. "Indeed, sir," she said, her voice cool, "I am honored by your proposal, but I must confess it to be most unexpected, most shocking both in your methods and in its being offered at all."

Darcy’s brows furrowed, as though unable to comprehend the meaning of her words. "Unexpected?" he repeated. "Surely you knew?—"

"That you struggled against your regard for me?" she interrupted. "That you have, for some time, considered my inferiority an obstacle to be overcome? That you find my family a disgrace, my connections unworthy?"

Darcy’s expression darkened, but before he could speak, Elizabeth continued, her voice steady, though her heart pounded painfully in her chest. "I had not ever predicted you would address me in such a manner, sir, nor did I ever expect to receive a proposal so wholly lacking in civility. That you should offer your hand while detailing the very reasons you consider me beneath you—" She broke off, drawing in a measured breath before adding, "I could never accept you."

Darcy stared at her in disbelief.

There was a long silence, in which the only sound was the faint crackling of the fire.

When he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse, as though the words cost him dearly. "You refuse me?"

Elizabeth met his gaze without wavering. "Yes, with all my heart."

A muscle twitched in his jaw.

His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, slowly relaxed. "I see," he said at last, his voice quiet, controlled, but laced with something raw beneath the surface.

He turned as if to leave but hesitated, glancing back at her. “Might I know why with so little care for my feelings you dismiss me?”

“How could you think I would do anything otherwise? I am aghast at your willful ignorance. You, who would so easily and carelessly ruin the happiness of a much beloved sister? And before that, long before, I was already keenly aware of the deficiencies in your character as one who would rob an innocent man of his intended inheritance. Your treatment of George Wickham is abominable in every way.” She took a breath. "And the very nature of your proposal itself. Had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner, had you approached me with anything other than a belief that my acceptance was inevitable, then perhaps—perhaps, sir—I might have spoken with less anger. But as it is, your words this evening have only confirmed what I already knew." She covered her mouth, but could not stay silent. “That you are the last man on earth I could ever be prevailed upon to marry.”

Darcy exhaled sharply. For a time, he said nothing.

She breathed out in exasperation. “You interfered with Jane. Do you deny it, sir?”

“I do not. I did everything in my power to separate your sister from my friend.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, the pain for her sister spreading through her anew. “How can you say such things in such a careless manner? Why would you do that?”

“I believed her to be indifferent.” He shook his head.

“You were most devastatingly incorrect.” Her voice shook.

Something flickered across his face. She’d reached him in some way at least.

“As for your other accusation, you are gravely mistaken in Mr. Wickham’s character.” His countenance was no longer marked by disbelief, but something harder—deep, undeniable pain. "But that I am not at liberty to address.” He dipped his head. “I see I have spoken most improperly, and if your opinion of me is so fixed, I shall not press you further." He turned away fully now, striding toward the door. But just as he reached it, he paused once more. When he spoke again, his voice was lower, softer, but no less intense. "Despite everything," he said, "I have loved you most ardently and will likely continue to do so, though my words are sealed on this topic forever."

And with that, he was gone.

Elizabeth stood frozen, her breath unsteady, her hands clasped tightly at her sides.

Her rejection had been firm, absolute, and entirely deserved.

And yet—as she heard the door close behind him, she could not shake the feeling that something within her had been irrevocably altered.