I have no idea where this story idea came from, but hey, I'm not complaining. =)
Darcy strolled about the grounds of Netherfield in a vain effort to clear his head. At the very least, he hoped to remove certain images of the beautiful and lively, but very socially inferior Miss Elizabeth Bennet. So far nothing worked. She plagued his mind night and day, never ceasing, driving him mad. He had thought that a walk in the woods surrounding Netherfield would help; sadly all it did was reinforce the picture Elizabeth presented after walking the three miles to Netherfield.
So caught was he in these reflections that he nearly missed the soft crunch of footsteps approaching him. On registering them, a sudden hope flared in him. Could the very creature of his dreams be on this path, destined to meet him?
"Excuse me, sir, but I wonder if you might have some idea of where I am?" Darcy's heart plummeted instantly. It was a decidedly masculine voice that spoke.
Darcy looked up to answer him, but only then did he perceive who the man was. Standing before him, looking no less shocked than he felt, was himself.
"Who are you?" Darcy demanded of his look-alike. Perhaps the man was nothing more than a hallucination brought on by fatigue or the low level of light. Or maybe Elizabeth had finally driven him mad after-all.
"I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire." The man had escaped somewhat from his frozen stance of surprise. Enough to speak at least.
"No, you are not. You cannot be. I am Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley." There was definite confusion here as neither knew what to say, both thinking that either the other or they themselves were mad; perhaps even both.
"If you really are Fitzwilliam Darcy, which I know you aren't, tell me this, what happened at Rosings two summers ago?" Darcy's brow furrowed. He could think of nothing of note that had occurred.
"I spent time with my sister and cousin, but nothing of particular interest happened."
"Nothing of particular interest!" The Other Darcy seemed irked at this. It seemed that he felt there was a very significant point of interest. "Two summers ago my sister went to Ramsgate where a scoundrel attempted to elope with her. And she is currently only seventeen! You call that nothing?" Now Darcy was really confused. And apparently it showed, for The Other Darcy's face held a look of immense triumph.
"But that was only this last summer. Georgiana is but newly turned sixteen." There was a pause, and the smug look was washed away from The Other Darcy's face.
"What year is it?"
"1812," came the immediate answer. The Other Darcy's eyes widened and he took a short step back.
"Impossible," he muttered. Finally it seemed another thought hit him and he groaned. "Why did it have to send me back here? Back when I had messed everything up." It was several minutes before he looked up at Darcy again and even longer before he attempted to speak to him. "Where did you say we were?"
"Netherfield Park," was the short reply. Darcy was still turning over the words in his head. Send him back? When he had messed everything up? Still in his thoughts, Darcy didn't notice The Other Darcy's eyes light with a new expression.
"You wouldn't happen to know of a Miss Elizabeth Bennet, would you?" There was her name again. It broke through the wonderful moment of freedom he had enjoyed while talking with The Other Darcy. Now she was back and, unfortunately, he feared she was back to stay.
"I um… yes." The Other Darcy unsuccessfully attempted to hide a smirk.
"And you find that she is quite pretty." It was not a question. Darcy grew suddenly jealous of the identical man standing before him.
"Well, she has caught my eye once or twice." But she only caught his eye because he had developed the habit of staring at her. Constantly. His eyes could never tire of absorbing such beauty.
"And, of course, she is on your mind often." Again he presumed so much as to merely state it; but once again it was true.
"I wouldn't say often." 'Unceasingly is a better term,' Darcy thought.
"You love her." Darcy opened his mouth, trying to let out the tide of protests that clogged it in their eagerness, but he was cut off before one had even stuck its head out. "Don't try to deny it. I know it's true. I felt once as you do." Darcy closed his mouth with a sigh and turned to face the truth. Yes, he did love Elizabeth, but a union between them was not to be. He would go to London with Bingley and there, if he could not forget, he would teach himself not to feel.
"I do," the words were spoken with a sad, almost broken spirit. "But," he said with forced energy, "it matters not. I shall go to London with Bingley and we, the both of us, will leave our imprudent attractions behind." Darcy was rather proud of this speech, but The Other Darcy had to ruin it for him.
"Go to London with Bingley? No! You, both of you, ought not to go to London. Jane loves Bingley, much as you love Elizabeth, and Bingley is head over heels for her. Would you take away their chance at happiness as well as your own?"
"As well as my own? Pray, how does my happiness factor in to this?" The Other Darcy sighed heavily and turned away, as if to examine the trees, but his eyes seemed to look through the trees and see something beyond.
"I didn't want to tell you this, but I fear I must. In April, you will meet Elizabeth again. Seeing her there without her family will overpower you. Though it may seem too fantastic to believe, you will propose to her." Darcy let out a shocked gasp, but somehow, the shock was more pleasant than he thought it would be. "She will refuse you, using the separation of her sister and Bingley as well as lies that Wickham has told her. If you do not act now, you will be faced with months of utter pain and desolation."
"What can I do?" Darcy was pleading now. He had to know how to win Elizabeth. If fate was going to conspire to bring them together in the future anyway, he should get a jump on it.
"She doesn't like you and I'm sorry to say, she never has. What you must do is to show her that you have a big heart, capable of love, and then show her how much of that heart she occupies." Darcy nodded absently. The Other Darcy turned and began to walk the way he had come.
"Wait, where are you going?" The Other Darcy stopped but he did not turn back. With a small mischievous smile on his face he threw an answer over his shoulder.
"I have been walking these woods for quite some time and I should be getting home. My wife is probably worried." Darcy nodded again, and turned back, wanting to hurry back and convince Bingley that they should stay in Netherfield a while yet. He had taken three steps before The Other Darcy's meaning hit him. Spinning on his heel, he spotted the man some distance away, but he did not hesitate to call to him.
"Your wife? Whom did you marry?" The Other Darcy stopped again and turned halfway.
"You will find out in your own good time. I have only one more piece of advice for you. Don't try to run from your feelings. Elizabeth will be with you forever, whether you want her to or not, but you can choose whether she will be with you as she is now, only living in dreams and memories, or by your side, physically with you for the rest of your life. Now is the time to choose. Remember, your decision will impact the rest of your life." The Other Darcy continued walking, a spring in his step. Darcy watched him go until his form was lost among the shaded boughs of the trees that surrounded them.
Darcy was given a choice, but both the men knew that there was only one possible option for him to choose. Turning back towards the house, Darcy allowed images of Elizabeth to flood his mind. What use was there in fighting anymore? She would be with him forever and, suddenly, that didn't seem like such a bad thing.
I hope the story is clear enough. Please tell me if it was too confusing. =) Thanks for reading.
