A Matter of Intentions

by Arendelle C

For the newly minted Mrs. Darcy, there is nothing better in this world than being a woman so delightfully and recently wed. Yet such a union comes with its own consequence as our dearest heroine finds herself in a society unlike one she has ever know before- the question is, can she not only survive but thrive as she tries to find her place in Mr. Darcy's world. (E&D, J&B HEA)

1. Prologue

A/N: All gratitude given to Jane Austen for writing one of the great literary works of all time. Her characters are borrowed with the highest respects.

This is my first in-length Regency story. It's been in the works for months. I am grateful to my betas for all their support.

Thank you in advance for reading.

PROLOGUE:

"Happiness in marriage is entirely a matter of chance." C. Lucas, Ch XI, Pride & Prejudice

The doors to the Theatre Royal opened to welcome one and all. It was a place designed to entertain and perhaps educate the masses, as well as a gathering ground for the town's elite to see and be seen. The motives of each individual varied to meet their needs, oftentimes selfish. For the gossiping mother, the theater presented a place to acquire a potential husband for her daughter. For young women, a place to be charmed by a dashing fellow. For a gentleman, if married, to grudgingly support his wife's eager ambitions.

Society had witnessed their share of single men come and go. They all had a single purpose—to increase their wealth and solidify their family name through marriage with another of equal—if not greater— rank. Once a gentleman disposed of this duty, he would fall into obscurity until his heir followed the same rite of passage. However, as with all generalisations, exceptions existed to provide fodder for gossip. One such man was Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy who, at eight and twenty, astonished London by marrying a little nothing miss from the country. He left his circle a dumbfounded mess of cackling mother hens with their chicks all atwitter. It was no surprise that, as the privileged made their journey from their country homes for the season, they had other plans in mind. Women in their parlours and men in their clubs questioned and debated the intent of such a match. With few responsibilities and an abundance of time, many sought to catch a glimpse of the former bachelor that had eluded them and to learn the secrets of how a country girl had won a prized catch! Their ire—whether recognized or not—was piqued against one who was not their own.

To the ton he was a peculiar man, a puzzling figure that towered among them but was always elusive in his dealings, a man who valued his privacy deeply. Many found him insufferable. Why should the untitled nephew of an earl have more pride than the members of the highest ranks? The notion stirred an anger that festered. In the eyes of many, Darcy fell into one of two categories: either he was a man of high standards—for not a word of immorality had ever been connected to his name or, like many of his peers, he could afford to silence those who could tarnish his image. The latter had become a more favored position, if only to appease the sting felt after his unexpected match. Who would marry a creature with no name, no title, and nothing in the way of connections from the oddest shire in the country? A principled, sensible man? Heaven forbid! Some beguiling, some wickedness had occurred and led to the union.

Society was inclined to dislike the new Mrs. Darcy from the day they saw her name attached to one of their own. However, their opinions softened begrudgingly after the first few months, because of the evident admiration Darcy showed his young bride. It was only recently that prejudices were renewed, when the easiness cooled publicly, giving weight to earlier arguments.

~8888888~

Unbeknownst to them, Darcy was aware of the chatter. He did not miss the glimpses directed his way nor his name whispered from their lips. This being the society he had lived in since coming of age and inheriting, he was not bothered. His thoughts were his comfort as they often were in functions such as these, and he chose to be distracted. It led to a feeling of smugness and a hint of pride that he could easily detach his emotions from the on-goings of society. This had been his shield and his method of survival in the unpredictably of his circle. This evening was a different matter as he understood his aloofness was only contributing to further speculation. He pursed his lips as he passed the multitude, his thoughts miles away from where he stood in this accursed and crowded hall. In his mind the plans for the season had been set to perfection, but this was not to be. His past was not to be resurrected. He had not meant for Elizabeth to come to know of his past that ill-fated day as she did. He had buried it along with his objectionable proposal and the other deficiencies of his past. He had no wish to resume their arguments, it would only serve to hinder their success, and yet here he stood with her gloved hand secured in the crook of his elbow. They would participate in the season until its completion. The sea of people parted before them. Few dared to approach and claim an acquaintance with a man they considered daunting—even to get a closer glance at his wife. Many longed for a word or two, a nod of acknowledgement would have sufficed as well.

His jaw clenched when Mr. _ approached him to renew the meager acquaintance they both shared. Darcy barely exchanged pleasantries before he dismissed the man, resuming his walk in a stately gait, eager to reach the Matlock box and enjoy what little he could of an evening with family. After the debacle a couple of nights prior, he wanted nothing more than to shut Darcy house and return to Pemberley. His conscience, however, would not allow him to do so for, by such actions, he would only expose his wife to further ridicule. His accusers' arguments would be justified, and all the efforts to acquaint her with his circle would have been futile. He would not allow Elizabeth to suffer. He would repair the damage. His lack of action led to their current predicament, and it was his responsibility to correct his missteps.

~8888888~

Elizabeth peered about the room, a haze of vibrant apparel and dull, disfigured outlines making up the throng. Merely two days had passed! A cloud seemed to follow her and, tonight, it would not leave her in peace! Why did it happen now and in the middle of the season no less! She had her grievances, equally at herself and her husband. After all, he was the one who left her in ignorance and without a method of defense, but she would not allow the circumstances to ruin the evening. She and her husband were anticipating tonight's performance which was a favorite of them both. She would enjoy the evening. Unattended problems would not hinder her pleasure!

Her husband was another matter altogether. His imposing figure and stern disposition kept those in their environs to gawk at a distance. Few dared to approach their company. She tilted her neck slightly, flashing her eyes at his exposed countenance. He wore his mask faithfully, but underneath, his thoughts and hers were one and the same. He was uncomfortable. His unease unmistakable to those who truly knew him. His curt dismissal of those who dared approach them told all and sundry of his impatience. If only she could chastise him for his irritable behavior, for his manner was reminiscent of the same arrogant Mr Darcy that had stalked the edges of Meryton's ballroom rather than the man she had married.

His perfunctory demeanour would only confound their aims to present a united front. She wanted to throttle him and dismantle the facade she had come to easily despise. He had voiced explicitly that his actions were regrettable; an indiscretion of youth, but to wallow in pity in no way rendered the situation more agreeable. The full blame, after all, did not rest on him, but his later actions disputed this rendering.

His foul mood did little to recommend him to the innumerable eyes that beheld them. His face was set in stone, a chiseled artwork, resembling the classical figures of antiquity. Had she been in a museum studying his appearance, she would have admired the handsome image. At the moment, she was less than pleased. He would not change his behaviour this night, so she took what charge she could. Taking a deep breath, she chose not be affected by his ill-temper. Instead, she lifted her head and stood tall. She was Mrs. Darcy, a woman with honour and pride. She smiled, but the gesture required remarkable effort and did not ease the disquiet within her. She was determined to be pleasant for them both. They would receive a favourable report and not add credence to the prattling of their enemies. She had come to know her duty in the short time since she had entered high society. The reputation of her family was not only the responsibility of her husband, but was also her own burden to bear.

© 2018 by Arendelle C

A/N: Feel free to voice your opinions. ;)