"My own soul cries out in anguish,
it thirsts so much for purification and cleansing."
--The secrets of Purgatory, unknown author.
PROLOGUE
Worthless.
Simply worthless.
The thoughts whirl in him, a deep aching kind of sickness that pulls at his guts, and the agony within him could not fathom the depression setting in. The fingers, strong and steady stretches and the locket fell on the marble floor making a loud noise that disrupts the entire length of the hall.
An echo could be heard, bouncing off the decorated walls and Darcy could feel the same kind of emotion he tried to hold back upon his first recognition of recognizing his profound sentiment for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
The locket came in a pretty decorated box, perfumed and pink, which was not Elizabeth's style really. She was a more pure, no nonsense young woman, without pretentiousness and need for luxury but then again, her family was in dire straits who could not afford the lavishness of these things, what with three daughters to attend to.
The youngest and the eldest already off to the marriage mart and back. Wedded in a quick harmonious bliss. Yes, even the youngest whose impetuous and reckless nature would surely bring any young girl to a life of tempestuous deliverance.
Darcy stands there, alone and unsure of what he should do for the first time. The locket remains an untouchable object against the cold marble and glints at him as if it were taunting and cruelly reminding him of his loss.
God, Elizabeth, why? Darcy shakes his head in lost lament, wondering why he has not attempted to pursue her when the time was ripe. Now it was gone. Gone. The sound of a carriage breaks his train of thought and glad for it, he peers out the window to see the arrivals.
it thirsts so much for purification and cleansing."
--The secrets of Purgatory, unknown author.
PROLOGUE
Worthless.
Simply worthless.
The thoughts whirl in him, a deep aching kind of sickness that pulls at his guts, and the agony within him could not fathom the depression setting in. The fingers, strong and steady stretches and the locket fell on the marble floor making a loud noise that disrupts the entire length of the hall.
An echo could be heard, bouncing off the decorated walls and Darcy could feel the same kind of emotion he tried to hold back upon his first recognition of recognizing his profound sentiment for Miss Elizabeth Bennet.
The locket came in a pretty decorated box, perfumed and pink, which was not Elizabeth's style really. She was a more pure, no nonsense young woman, without pretentiousness and need for luxury but then again, her family was in dire straits who could not afford the lavishness of these things, what with three daughters to attend to.
The youngest and the eldest already off to the marriage mart and back. Wedded in a quick harmonious bliss. Yes, even the youngest whose impetuous and reckless nature would surely bring any young girl to a life of tempestuous deliverance.
Darcy stands there, alone and unsure of what he should do for the first time. The locket remains an untouchable object against the cold marble and glints at him as if it were taunting and cruelly reminding him of his loss.
God, Elizabeth, why? Darcy shakes his head in lost lament, wondering why he has not attempted to pursue her when the time was ripe. Now it was gone. Gone. The sound of a carriage breaks his train of thought and glad for it, he peers out the window to see the arrivals.