AN: Wheee! A revised and edited version of this story is now available as a Kindle book on Amazon (or will be soon - it is now in the review process). Check it out – Smoky Dreams by Jaeza Rayleigh. As part of the publishing agreement, I have had to remove it from all other sites, meaning this one. The post below is now just your teaser text, about the same length as the free sample would provide to you. Enjoy!
Chapter 1: Awakening
Fitzwilliam Darcy groggily dragged himself from the bed. From the pale light seeping in around the window curtains, he knew it was later than his usual time, although most would still call it early. He habitually kept country hours in the morning, despite the need to keep town hours in the evening while in London. Even after a restless night filled with disturbing dreams, his body could not break the habit of a lifetime.
Stretching his arms over his head, he tried to ease the ache in his shoulders. It had been another late night and he felt it in his muscles. Miss Bingley had convinced him to attend what turned out to be a seemingly-interminable dinner, all in the hope her brother would find some pretty face there to distract him from his infatuation with Miss Jane Bennet. That hope failed to materialize, as did her own undisguised hope Darcy would take the opportunity to propose to her. If Darcy had his way, the latter hope would never come true.
The more he thought on it, the more frustrated Darcy was becoming, with Miss Bingley and with himself. Who were they to determine how and with whom Charles Bingley would be happy? Who was he to decide if Miss Bennet cared for his friend or would be swayed to marry him for his money by her mother? He had stated she did not care to prevent Bingley from returning, but that was based on the observations of only a few minutes here and there. Truth be told, his attention had generally been otherwise occupied and he hardly noticed Miss Bennet even when he intended to study her reactions.
That was the salient point, after all; he had been otherwise occupied. Darcy groaned softly as he pulled on his dressing gown. The ache in his shoulders was still there and an ache in his head was joining it. He had to face the truth. He was pushing Bingley away from Miss Bennet for his own reasons. That was hardly the act of a friend. Darcy knew he would be furious and disgusted should someone else try to do the same to him. Shaking his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, Darcy was instead hit full force by what he had been trying to deny – he had been running away and using the excuse of protecting his friend to do so.
Walking the few steps to the window, he drew back the curtains. The sun was just rising over the rooftops of the buildings across the square. It hung like a blood-red marble in the pall of coal smoke that was always a part of the London air, particularly on a cold December day like this one. There must have been a breeze to blow some of the heavy smoke away, though, because usually one could not even see this much of the sun through the haze. Dark stripes floated across the sky, wisps of cloud, or smoke trails from someone's chimney. It reminded him of the many troubled dreams that had followed him through the hours of the night.
If he had still been at Netherfield in Hertfordshire, or at his home in Derbyshire, this sunrise would be different. By this time of the day the golden disc would be too bright to look at in the crisp country air. He leaned against the window frame, thinking about the difference in the light and the people, thinking about the dreams of the night just past.
They had left the estate of Netherfield Park just three weeks before. Bingley went first, leaving early in the morning after the ball he had hosted on the 26th of November. He only intended to stay away for a few days, completing some important business with his solicitor before returning to either court or propose to Miss Jane Bennet. In the dull, red, morning light, Darcy admitted to himself that he knew Bingley was not merely infatuated. His friend's reaction to the lovely young woman was different from all the other times Darcy had seen him enamored of an "angel." Whatever Miss Bennet's sentiments might be, Bingley was surely in love.
That had not mattered to Darcy at the time. Within hours after Bingley left, Miss Bingley decided to close up the house and follow her brother to town. She disapproved of Miss Bennet's status as the daughter of a country gentleman with neither fortune nor connections to further Miss Bingley's ambitions. There would be no marriage between them if she could help it. That she also wished to part Darcy from Miss Bennet's next youngest sister, Miss Elizabeth, was clear. Feeling the pull of a strong attraction to a woman he considered socially inferior, Darcy was equally eager to leave Miss Elizabeth Bennet behind. He had run from his own feelings and was now destroying his friend's hopes, and possibly the elder Miss Bennet's, to hide that fact from himself. Darcy groaned again as the realization fully set in.
It was the dreams that had done it, he thought. Smoky, hazy and disturbing as the red light moving slowly higher in the sky outside, they illuminated the meanness in his spirit. Tangled and twisted though they were in his mind, he still remembered enough of them. Smoke, yes, but very substantial smoke. He could hardly breathe with the thought of the images that now replayed themselves in his head.
He had seen Miss Bennet, who usually smiled serenely, crying over a letter he knew was from Caroline Bingley. If the young woman's heart was not easily touched, as he had proclaimed, then why was she crying? He remembered that in the dream her eyes were edged with red the same color as the rising sun before him. Guilt stole his breath again, leaving him gasping and making his head ache more. If she was crying over Bingley's defection, then Darcy bore a large part of the blame. Bingley trusted him and had accepted the assertion that he was doing Miss Bennet a favor by not returning. Darcy had argued that if Bingley returned that would place her in a position where she would be forced by her mother to accept a proposal no matter what her feelings might be. However, what if her feelings were of love for his friend? Was he doing either of them a favor by parting them without having all the information?
Like a wisp of smoke, another image from the dream floated across his inner sight. Miss Elizabeth - lovely and tempting Miss Elizabeth – stood behind Miss Bennet, glaring straight at him. There was no hint of her smile or the witty impertinence he had grown to admire. Her anger was evident, tinged with bright red like the sun. "How could you?" she demanded. "What has Jane ever done to harm you, that you would hurt her and cause Mr. Bingley to break her heart in this way? How would you feel if someone did this to your sister?"
The dream had twisted then. He knew the answer to her question. Someone had broken his sister's heart. Yet he had let the villain get away unscathed. What kind of brother was he? Georgiana had asked him just that in his dream as Miss Elizabeth faded and instead his sister sat before him on the bench of her pianoforte. The keyboard was closed, and she rested her hands on the cover as she wept over the instrument.
"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a voice rough from crying. "Why? How could you think ignorance would protect me from a practiced liar? How did you expect me to know that he was using me to get at you?" Darcy had left her undefended, that was true. He had not been certain how to approach the subject of Wickham's proclivities with an innocent young woman and so had avoided any mention of the subject. He never thought Wickham would target her as he had. Yet that was exactly what he did. Wickham courted her for her dowry and for revenge on Darcy for his refusal to provide more undeserved funds. Wickham persuaded her she was in love and should elope with him. And what had Darcy done to Wickham when he learned of the plot to steal his sister and her money? Nothing. He had sacked the faithless companion without a reference, but he had not even given in to the impulse to punch George Wickham, let alone made him face any significant consequences for his infamy. No wonder Wickham had walked away laughing.
Georgiana's face had dissolved back to Miss Elizabeth's. This time it was she sitting at the pianoforte, banging her hands against the cover in anger and sorrow, tears reddening her eyes and dripping down her face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "I gave you the opportunity, yet you remained silent beyond providing the vaguest and most useless of warnings? What conclusion was I supposed to draw from your comment that he makes friends easily but does not keep them? That is hardly a proper warning! So many people have been hurt by him. So many women ruined. Yet you said nothing of the true danger he posed! You did nothing! Why?"
Darcy rested his forehead against the cool pane of glass and pondered the question. Why had he done nothing? Why had he usually chosen to do nothing when confronted with George Wickham? If he had warned his father of Wickham's behavior in school, that behavior might have been corrected early. If he had taken Wickham up for debt after he paid off the merchants in Lambton and Kympton, Wickham would not have been able to convince even more people to lend him money. If Darcy had warned Miss Elizabeth, or better yet Mr. Bennet, Sir William Lucas and the other leading men of Meryton, Wickham would not be free to run up debts and ruin the women of their village. He would not have entry to the houses of the local gentry. Even a word of warning to Colonel Forster, the commanding officer of the militia unit Wickham had just joined, might have been enough to curtail some of the man's worst activities. Yet Darcy had done absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, in fact, for he had run away.
As the image of Miss Elizabeth had faded again, his dreams had been filled with memories of his childhood, school days and later years, always scenes involving Wickham. He had tossed and turned in his sleep as he saw once again how Wickham had charmed Darcy's father and their teachers, using his glib tongue and lies mixed with just enough truth to make them plausible, doing whatever he chose and leaving Darcy to take the blame. At first, Darcy had tried to defend himself and enlighten others, but Wickham's lies undid all his efforts. Eventually he decided there was no point. Darcy had retreated into sullen silence, ignoring what he could and cleaning up after Wickham when he felt he had to. As far as George Wickham was concerned, the less said, the better.
Yet in his dreams, he saw the maids dismissed from Pemberley after being taken in by Wickham's charms and reaping the consequences. Or had they been taken in by him? Had some of them been forced into ruin and disgrace? It was possible, he knew. Although he had not seen it then, in his dream he saw the daughter of the Lambton innkeeper laid out on her bed, the red blood dripping from the wrist she had cut when the shame of her condition could be hidden no longer. Wickham had gotten to her too, and Darcy had done nothing, as usual. He had not even offered condolences to her father, useless thought the gesture would have been. He just ignored the situation.
"Why didn't you tell me?" Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth asked in unison, seated side by side on the bench of the pianoforte. The cover was open, and they banged their fists against the keys producing a cacophony of sound. As the notes died, he once again heard Miss Bennet weeping and saw her sitting with her face turned to a corner of the room. From the other side of the room he heard a man's voice.
"You lied to me," Bingley said, and there were tears in his voice as well. "I have been your friend for years, and yet you lied to me, manipulated me and misled me for your own purposes." He looked at Darcy with red-rimmed eyes and an expression as miserable as Miss Bennet's.
Even the memory of that part of the dream made Darcy's head pound more fiercely and his stomach churn. He felt like his eyes were filled with smoke, causing them to burn and weep. Darcy had said more than once that he abhorred disguise of every sort. He thought it was true and yet…
Darcy placed his palms over his closed eyelids and rubbed. He tried to wish away the tendrils of smoke and memories of the faces and voices that had first haunted his sleep and now haunted his waking. Instead, they settled into the depths of his heart, which suddenly seemed to beat more loudly. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. When Darcy opened his eyes, he could see the sun had risen above the layers of smoke and it shone out for a moment as bright and clear as the path he understood he now needed to take.
Stepping away from the window, he pulled the bell for his servant. There would be a busy day ahead of him and he needed to dress and prepare quickly. It might still be early by the standards of the Ton, but the Ton and their standards had nothing to do with him anymore. Darcy knew he should not have let anything of the Ton influence his thoughts or behavior before now. He would not do so going forward. He was his own man, and he knew what was right and what he should value. Everything was now as clear and bright as the sunlight.
His day was already planned for him, planned by the faces and voices in his dreams. Darcy and Bingley needed to return to Netherfield – that very day, if possible. Miss Bennet should not be left to weep over whatever cruel words Caroline Bingley had written to her. Bingley should not be left to regret having abandoned a woman he loved. George Wickham should not be left to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting population. Miss Elizabeth should not be left unwarned and ignorant.
As he pulled the receipts of the debts he had paid for Wickham over the years from his personal safe, Darcy wondered if Georgiana might like to join them for Christmas at Netherfield. Once Wickham was safely imprisoned for debt there would be no danger to her person or reputation in Hertfordshire. She would enjoy the company of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, he was certain, and she ought to meet the woman Darcy intended to court and eventually marry.
The servant entered, and Darcy gave his instructions to have his clothing packed as soon as he was properly readied for a day of travel. Before heading to the dressing room, he turned back to the window for another look. All traces of the smoke had momentarily cleared. Despite the improbability, outside the sky was blue and the sunshine golden. It was a perfect day to start his journey into a new life.
Chapter 2: Betrayal?
As was his habit when he wished to speak privately with Bingley, Darcy exited his carriage around the block from the townhouse and walked the rest of the way, staying close to the inner side of the walk and keeping his hat tilted down to shade his face. When the footman opened the door, Darcy handed him a few coins and quietly asked to speak with Mr. Bingley privately. He specified none of the rest of the family was to be told of his presence. It was a game they had played before, and the footman nodded agreement when he pocketed his tip. As he followed the man to Bingley's study, Darcy suddenly realized how much deceit he entered into on a regular basis connected to Miss Bingley. Was this merely in relation to her, or was it a symptom of a greater character flaw? He shook his head as he settled into a chair to wait for Bingley to come down.
"Is something wrong, Darcy?" Bingley asked as he entered just a few minutes later. Darcy looked up in surprise from the book he kept in Bingley's study for just such times. He had expected a much longer wait. While bleary-eyed and not in his usual good cheer, his friend was fully dressed and looked ready for the day.
"Perhaps. I hope not. Still, there are things I need to tell you and things I need to do," Darcy broke off, realizing he was not making much sense.
"Darcy? Are you bosky? It is awful early, and you do not look it, but all the same..." Bingley took a seat across from his friend, looking at him with concern.
"No. I have not been drinking. I know this sounds odd, but I had several revelations this morning and now I need to act. I think you and I need to return to Netherfield. In fact, we need to go back today."
"Today! But...you and Caroline have spent the last three weeks telling me all the reasons why I should never return to Netherfield. I do not understand. What about Miss Bennet and placing her in a bad position?"
Darcy groaned inside. Bingley deserved better than this. He began again.
"I know I told you it would be a disservice to place Miss Bennet in a position where she might be forced to marry you even if she did not wish to, and I also told you I saw no signs of her having any particular regard for you. Both things are still true, but they are not the complete truth. I owe you an explanation, but it does not paint me in a good light and I am having trouble making it." Darcy stopped to collect his thoughts while Bingley regarded him curiously. There was a light knock on the door, which caused both men to jump, more out of fear it might be Miss Bingley than anything else. They quickly realized that she would have knocked more loudly, entering immediately after or even as she did so. They relaxed again.
"Oh, that is right," Bingley said suddenly. "I asked for coffee." He called for the servant to enter and soon a tray with coffee and some pastries was sitting on the side table between their two chairs. Before the servant left, Bingley told the man to instruct his valet to pack for a trip of some duration and that he would be leaving shortly. The man bowed and left the room.
"You are preparing to leave, just like that?" Darcy asked.
"I trust you, Darcy. If you say we need to go, then I am certain we do. I am also looking forward to seeing Miss Bennet again. All the same, I am curious about what you were just saying."
Darcy took a drink of his coffee, more as a delaying measure than anything. As he swallowed, he wondered if he could get away with eating an entire pastry before saying anything more. Then he noticed what might be a blob of cherry or red currant jelly on one of them and remembered all his thoughts of the sunrise. The vision of Miss Bennet in tears flashed in his memory. That was enough.
"The truth is, I never really paid enough attention to Miss Bennet to accurately discern what her feelings for you might be. I was far more distracted by her sister and found I wished to put some distance between us. I never saw Miss Bennet appear to have any particular regard for you when I looked, but I did not really look very hard." Darcy said the last very quickly and looked away from Bingley, ashamed. He caught another glimpse of the pastry with the jelly on it. Red currant, definitely, he decided.
"Well, I did notice you and Miss Elizabeth were not getting along very well. You seemed to argue every time you met. At least it has only been a few weeks and it is not like I disappeared without a word. Caroline told me she wrote to Miss Bennet to tell her I had been delayed in town." Bingley took a pastry, not the red currant one, and began to eat it with a little more energy than he had shown before.
Bingley's reference to arguments with Miss Elizabeth confused Darcy, but he would have to ask about that later. First, he needed to make Bingley aware of the rest of the problem.
"Bingley, I know your sister wrote a letter to Miss Bennet before leaving Netherfield. However, I doubt it was a very kind one and it was far more likely to say that you would never return than just explaining you had been delayed."
"But...why would she do that even before I had decided to stay in town? Caroline likes Miss Bennet. She has said so." Bingley appeared genuinely confused. Darcy shook his head slightly.
"How many times have you heard her say, 'Jane Bennet is a dear, sweet girl but...' followed by some insult to Miss Bennet's family or reason why she is unsuitable and would never marry well?" he asked.
Bingley's coffee cup remained raised halfway to his mouth as the substance of Darcy's words hit him. He seemed frozen in shock until Darcy reached over and gently pressed Bingley's hand back down to the table. Bingley released the cup in surprise, causing the coffee to slosh, but not spill. He looked at the coffee, then over to Darcy, then back to the coffee.
"Wuh…why would she keep company with Miss Bennet if she dislikes her?" he finally asked, returning his gaze to his friend.
"I do not think she particularly dislikes Miss Bennet. She simply does not wish you to marry her. Such a marriage and connection would not fit with her plan for you to marry into the first circles and make an alliance that would ensure she found a match in the first circles as well."
"Or better yet, a match with you?" Charles asked with a grin before quickly sobering. "All the same, it shows very little consideration for my feelings. I love Miss Bennet. Only the thought I might wrong her by persisting in my suit has kept me away from her. Why would my sister try to run my life like that?"
"She has always done her best to run your life, Bingley, and you have usually allowed her to do so. This situation is no different," Darcy told him with slight hesitation, for he had also tried to run his friend's life, although with different reasons.
"Well, no more," Bingley said firmly, pounding his hand on the table and causing some of the coffee in his cup to spill out. He hardly noticed Darcy moving a serviette to cover the spill as he added, "I plan to go to Netherfield today. I will court Miss Bennet and if she agrees, I will marry her." He nodded his head once, firmly, for emphasis before adding more softly. "That is, as long as you think I will not be harming her by my attention."
"I think this is a decision you need to make for yourself," Darcy said quietly. "Your previous behavior did excite expectations and Mrs. Bennet is very good at jumping to conclusions where a marriage to one of her daughters is concerned. However, if you choose to go and you are discreet, you may be able to ask Miss Bennet directly if she would feel pressured into a marriage with you or if it is actually something she wishes."
Bingley smiled brightly. "I will go," he declared. Suddenly he saw the coffee-stained serviette. "When did that happen?" he asked.
"When you became decisive," Darcy answered with a chuckle. Bingley grinned at him before picking up the cup and drinking what remained in it. As he put the empty cup down on the serviette, he looked back at Darcy.
"You said you needed to return to Netherfield as well?"
"I have some unfinished business in the area involving Mr. Wickham."
"That fellow who joined the militia shortly before we left there? Miss Bennet asked me something about him. He had been telling a story about you to Miss Elizabeth, I think, and she wanted to know if it was true. I did not get the details but told her I thought the fault was on the other fellow's side."
Darcy looked a little disturbed at the mention of Miss Elizabeth and Wickham, but answered, "Thank you for your confidence in me, Bingley. I would appreciate your hospitality."
"Of course, my friend," Bingley said cheerfully. "You will not find any reason to argue with Miss Elizabeth anymore, will you?"
"Miss Elizabeth and I have enjoyed some spirited debates together," Darcy said, "but that is not the same as arguing. I hope once I have settled the issue with Wickham, she and I will be in perfect accord."
Bingley looked at him a little doubtfully. "If you say so."
Darcy smiled. "May I also bring my sister and her companion?" he asked.
"Of course," Bingley answered enthusiastically. "I do not intend to even tell Caroline or Louisa that I am leaving. They prefer to stay in town anyway. Miss Darcy can be my hostess."
"My sister is not yet out, Bingley," Darcy reminded him. "She cannot be your hostess, but that will not stop you from attending any of the neighborhood events. It is the Christmas season, after all. There are certain to be plenty of dinners or other opportunities for us to see the Bennets."
"Of course," Bingley said with no less enthusiasm. "She is most welcome even if she cannot be my hostess. My man should be nearly packed by now. We can go before Caroline wakes up."
"My carriage is waiting in the mews. We can load your trunks and valet as soon as they are ready and head back to Darcy house to collect my sister and Mrs. Annesley. I had hoped you would agree to their company and so I left them word to pack for a visit. I can send a messenger ahead if you would write a note to your housekeeper to expect us."
"Actually, you know how bad my writing is. She might not understand a word of it. While I check on my luggage, would you write the note? I can sign it when I return." Bingley jumped up to leave as Darcy nodded agreement to the plan.
While Bingley headed up to check on the status of his packing, Darcy went to the desk and wrote a clear and concise note to Mrs. Nichols, including the size of the party, their expected arrival time and a request for a very simple dinner in recognition of the short notice they were providing of their arrival. Once completed, he went back to his original seat, poured a fresh cup of coffee, took the red currant pastry from the plate and ate it while reading his book. He was glad Bingley had completely glossed over any thoughts of betrayal on his own part, although Darcy also realized he had not been as forthcoming as he had intended. There would be time for that later, if necessary, he supposed.
He did not really pay attention to the words on the pages of the book he was pretending to read. Darcy was thinking with joy that he would soon see Miss Elizabeth again. He was also enjoying the pastry. The red currant jelly might have the color of that morning's sunrise, but it tasted delicious all the same.
Want more - check out the full length book. ;oD