I Belong with You (Pride and Prejudice Variation)

Chapter 1

Fitzwilliam Darcy had always been a man of meticulous habits.

Every decision he took came only after considerable deliberation, yet when it concerned Miss Elizabeth Bennet, all forethought deserted him.

He would spend hours determining a sensible course, only to abandon it in a single unguarded impulse.

His proposal in Kent ought to have taught him how disastrous impulsiveness could be, yet here he had been again, announcing before Caroline Bingley his preference for the same lady.

Calling her the handsomest woman of his acquaintance in front of the Bingley sisters had been tantamount to declaring his intentions.

Miss Bingley's dismissive attitude towards Elizabeth and her degrading comments on her looks had snapped him into defending her.

He stood in his study staring out of the window with a glass of brandy in his hand, stirring it absently as he thought about the coincidence of their encounter.

The very day he had resolved that any effort to forget her or to find someone else like her would be futile in the extreme, he had encountered her in Pemberley gardens as if by divine interference.

A smile grazed his lips as he remembered her flustered attitude on seeing him and the conversation that had followed.

She had been elegance personified and he was lost, forgetting all his resolve to overcome his preoccupation with her.

From the time she had refused him so decisively at Hunsford, he had not known a single night of easy rest. At first there had been indignation.

That she could reject all he offered, and defend Wickham of all people, had seemed incomprehensible.

He had believed her far too sensible to be deceived by that scoundrel, and her refusal, apparently on Wickham’s account, had wounded both his pride and reason.

But as the heat of anger had faded, her words had returned with greater clarity.

He had remembered her distress over her sister’s disappointment and his own unfeeling interference.

His justification of it, delivered with incredulity and hauteur, now filled him with shame.

Even in defending Wickham, she had shown the integrity and fairness of character for which he had always admired her.

She had defended what she believed to be right, without artifice or flattery.

She had rejected him despite his wealth because she believed his character to be wanting.

And the worst thing was that she had been justified.

That realisation had struck him with uncommon force. Though he had long acknowledged his love for her, it was only in that moment of refusal that he understood the true extent of her worth. What other young woman, so situated in life, would refuse a man of his fortune purely on principle?

Her words echoed in his mind:

“From the very beginning— from the first moment, I may almost say— of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation…”

She had judged his character so deficient that even the extraordinary material comfort and position he offered weighed nothing against it.

The past few months in London had changed him profoundly.

He remembered those weeks after his return from Rosings; they had been a torment of recollections.

He had relived every exchange they had shared.

He had remembered their debates while she stayed at Netherfield.

It had then struck him that the verbal sparring which he had taken for flirtation was her way of mocking him.

He had recollected, with some pain, the day they had both sat together in Netherfield’s library.

How he had been unable to read a word in his effort to ignore her steadfastly.

Her presence had always commanded his attention, but, like a fool, he had decided to keep his silence in order to avoid raising expectations.

He had squandered every opportunity to win her good opinion.

Sleep had become elusive in those months.

Though he had never been prone to excess, brandy had become a nightly refuge with each glass drawing forth yet another memory.

He winced as he recalled his slight at the Meryton assembly: “She is tolerable, but not handsome enough to tempt me.” What madness had led him to utter such nonsense?

Aphrodite could not rival her in his estimation.

And what arrogance had possessed him to insult her family—her beloved sister—while asking for her hand?

******

There was a knock at the door bringing him out of his reverie.

The footman entered and announced that Mr. Stevens, the steward, was here.

Darcy had spoken to him upon his return and was expecting him with reports of Pemberley's tenants and produce.

Signalling the footman to allow Stevens to enter, Darcy walked towards the imposing table at the centre of the room and took a seat behind it as Stevens finally entered.

Taking a seat opposite Darcy, he handed him the reports.

“Sir, the grain and dairy produce have been unaffected, but we did not have the same amount of wool. Several of the sheep contracted an illness and some tenants did not heed my repeated warning to take precautions causing them to lose the animals.”

Darcy leafed through the report as he read parts of it that were highlighted for immediate attention. A frown of concentration appeared on his face. “Stevens, what is the state of last quarter rents from the tenants suffering the loss?”

“They have asked for relief, sir.”

“Hmm, we cannot reward poor behaviour. While I do understand their plight, the stubbornness of not listening to timely advice cannot be encouraged.” Darcy contemplated.

“Sir, we could give them relief now, but ask them to pay interest for the delay.” Stevens offered, as a possible solution.

“That is one way, maybe the easiest but I am not comfortable with charging interest. These are honest, hardworking people. Their stubbornness comes from ignorance, not insubordination. Let me think about this. Leave the report with me and we can discuss further tomorrow. I am sure something will come to me by then.” Darcy said, dismissing the steward.

Darcy stretched in his chair as he deliberated about the best way to deal with the situation.

As always his thoughts were interrupted by memories of Elizabeth.

She would surely have some thoughts on his crisis with the tenants.

She was always considerate of others. He had himself observed her dedication in caring for her sister when she lay suffering from a cold at Netherfield.

Thinking about Jane Bennet reminded him of the fact that he needed to speak to Bingley.

He had an obligation to correct his past mistakes and let Bingley make decisions with his own happiness in mind.

He gulped the brandy that he had been holding and got up from his chair and walked to the window once more.

The report from Stevens lay forgotten on his table as his mind wandered back to the time in London when he had slowly realised how selfish his character had become.

In his misery he had ignored everyone and spiralled inward, consumed by guilt.

Georgiana had visited him often, distressed by the alteration, yet he could not bring himself to disguise it.

Some days he had barely risen from bed; others he just slumped in his study in a drunken stupor fuelled by all her memories.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had attempted to rouse him, but his cousin’s presence only succeeded in bringing another pang of misery.

Richard had always been as dear to him as a brother, but he had for once been jealous, convinced that Elizabeth would have accepted had it been his cousin who proposed.

Elizabeth’s preference for Richard, exaggerated in his mind, had tormented him endlessly.

The image of her walking with Richard, smiling at his jokes throughout their acquaintance in Kent, cut him deeper than it ought.

******

The clock struck, reminding him of the hour and that he needed to dress for dinner.

He pulled himself out of the reverie, reminding himself that Elizabeth was here in Lambton, and he needed to have his wits about him to win her regard.

He stared at the report lying on his desk when it struck him that he would be needing a lot of labour on the estate this summer.

There were some pending improvements that he was determined to complete, and the tenants could easily repay him in labour instead of rent.

He kept toying with this idea as he climbed the stairs towards his chambers.

His valet had already laid out his evening wear and he went through the motions with an absent mind.

As always, he wondered if Elizabeth would approve of his plan for the tenants, would she consider it just repayment or declare him a heartless man.

As he was descending the stairs it occurred to him that he could ask Elizabeth her opinion. She was engaged to dine at Pemberley tomorrow but he could safely visit her in the morning and request her company for a walk.