I was inspired to write this after playing the song 'Solace' by Stephanie Curcio on my harp. Elizabeth and Darcy's musings after he gives her the letter. Don't be too annoyed on how I never mention names. One shot.
0000
If one had been walking through the wilderness of Kent one day in early April, they would have observed a petite, dark-haired young lady strolling about the grounds. If one would to address her, she might've not heard; for she was so deep in thought from certain recent events. If one had been walking. But of course, the only person walking relatively near her was the last person she wanted to speak with again.
She had prided herself on her discernment, her abilities to be objective and by no means prejudices. How wrong she had been. The only reason she had believed that blackguard was because of her vanity. He had flattered her, earning her approval, thus making her oblivious to the impropriety of the situation, or the mere charm in his manners that held no shred of goodness. Until that day, she never knew herself.
And her sister—as much as she was reluctant to admit the man had any reason to be correct, she knew that her sister would forever be the proper lady she was, and even if she was madly in love she would only smile demurely. A stranger, not accustomed to her reserve, might mistake it as indifference.
The young woman sighed. How much drama had entered her life since he had come to Hertfordshire. Her sister had fallen in love and in turn had her heart broken, she had been misguided, and refused two proposals of marriage to ice the cake.
She tried to find solace by telling herself he was still a most proud and arrogant man, the most disagreeable man she had ever met. But somehow she couldn't.
0000
He had done it, delivered the letter. Of course, she might just never read it, or just dismiss it as falsehood. He could only hope.
No! What could he hope for? There was no possible way he would encounter her again; she was lost, lost to him, and he, in turn, was lost to happiness. He could not hope. He would not hope. He did not know what he would do with himself. But he would overcome this. He would.
She was just a country girl. No, it was no use lying to himself. She was not 'just' a country girl. She was the cleverest, wittiest, and most lovely creature he had ever seen. Indeed, a bitter voice inside his head observed, so clever that she fooled you into thinking she welcomed your attentions, that she cared whether or not she broke your heart with her words. She just delights in teasing with a respectable man's emotions.
Another voice reminded him that she could not be so cruel. Before, before she came to Kent, had she ever exhibited any emotion towards him other than well…annoyance? Perhaps puzzlement? Hardly. He was just an acknowledged burdened she had to deal with while he was in her company. She was not cruel and conniving.
But she certainly was so foolish for refusing him.
The mixed emotions inside his head howled and quarreled, their persistent voices driving him to such a distraction he groaned.
He tried to find solace with her image. But it was a mere imposter when he knew she was lost to him. No solace could be found in falsehoods.