Endeavor at Civility, a pride and prejudice fanfic

Endeavor at Civility

Summary: What if Darcy and Elizabeth both maintained civil tempers during the Hunsford Proposal?

Jane Austen Quote: "I might, perhaps, wish to be informed why, with so little endeavor at civility, I am thus rejected." (Pride and Prejudice, Chapter 34)

Chapter 1: Hopes of Respite

Elizabeth Bennet frowned as she gazed out the window of her bed chamber. Nothing was as it had once been at her beloved home of Longbourn.

Her Mama had scarcely forgiven her for refusing an offer of marriage; Mr. Collins, her absurd cousin who was to inherit their estate, was entirely unsuitable in every respect and nothing in the world could have persuaded Elizabeth to accept him. However, hardly a day went by when her Mama did not scold her or harangue against her for denying her the privilege of boasting about a successfully married daughter.

Charlotte Lucas, her life-long friend, had married Mr. Collins and moved away to Kent. Elizabeth had at first denounced her friend's decision to marry where she did not love but eventually accepted that their outlooks on marriage were vastly different; where Elizabeth was of the opinion that marriage should be only for the deepest of affection, Charlotte was of the opinion that marriage was intended solely for security and protection. Poor Charlotte had thought herself to be on the shelf with no other options and had gladly accepted Mr. Collins' offer. Elizabeth had gradually come to accept her friend's choice and the two friends had exchanged amiable correspondence.

The one man who Elizabeth had once fancied herself to have formed an attachment, Lieutenant Wickham of the local militia, had recently diverted his attentions to Miss Mary King; perhaps the lure of Miss King's ten thousand pound dowry had turned the lieutenant's head. However, once his attentions were diverted, she realized that her heart had never truly been touched and she was able to accept his desire for a fortuitous match. Since he had been so cruelly reduced to near poverty, she could not very well begrudge him the opportunity to advance his station through marriage; he would certainly have no such opportunity with Elizabeth.

Her youngest sisters, Lydia and Kitty were both bereft at the loss of Lt. Wickham; they had once harbored hopes of tempting the young man into courtship. News had recently been heard that the local militia was to remove to Brighton at the end of May, causing the greatest distress to the two younger girls. Their fears that they would be left without eligible young gentlemen in the neighborhood was a constant source of tears and topic of morose conversation of which Elizabeth had found increasing tiresome.

Mary, her middle sister, had taken to playing the piano-forte almost constantly. Mary perceived her talents to be far more advanced perhaps than others would have perceived and the mournful tones emanating from the sitting room drove Elizabeth frequently out of doors. Her own enjoyment of the instrument was curtailed by Mary's constant attendance. However, this was in every way preferable to Mary's fondness for reading sermons aloud after supper every night. Elizabeth had not the slightest desire to hear how all proper young woman should conduct themselves in pursuit of decorum and modesty.

Jane, her dear elder sister and closest confidant had removed to London two months earlier to soothe her broken heart over a lost love. Mr. Charles Bingley, a handsome and amiable young man who had recently moved into the neighborhood and had encouraged Jane's affections, had suddenly gone away without explanation. The sudden loss of her heart's desire had caused Jane immeasurable pain and it was decided that a visit to their aunt and uncle's home would serve as a diversion. Left with no confidant, Elizabeth had only her sister's melancholy letters to comfort her.

Life in Hertfordshire was so altered, that Elizabeth dearly yearned for a diversion of her own. Her early morning walks down her favorite paths provided her temporary refuge from the discomforts at home; frequent walks to Meryton were attempted when the weather permitted; when all else failed, her poetry books were a frequent comfort. Of course, her beloved Papa sometimes offered to discuss books, poetry or philosophy; however, he was frequently occupied with estate business. Relief was finally to come in a few days when she was to travel to Kent to visit Charlotte Collins at her new home; she was to accompany Charlotte's father and sister on the journey to Kent and spend six weeks at the home of Mr. and Mrs. Collins. Whatever awkwardness that Elizabeth may have anticipated in being in close company with Mr. Collins was firmly put to rest in Charlotte's letters; all the arrangements had been made and to Kent she would go with the hopes of respite from her dreary life at home.

Chapter 2: Haunted Memories

Fitzwilliam Darcy gazed at the stack of papers on his desk without actually seeing them. His prevalent, persistent and recurring thoughts were of a pair of fine eyes he had left behind in Hertfordshire. When he left there last November, he was determined to rid his memory of her. He knew that her family, her connections and her circumstances were all entirely unsuitable; an alliance with her was infinitely impossible. Any argument to the contrary was wholly without merit; anyone with a modicum of intelligence would certainly agree. His family expected nothing less than a brilliant match; his younger sister's future match depended entirely on his own successful match and this one fell far short of that requirement.

He was quite confident that once she was out of his sight, he would forget her.

He celebrated the holidays with his beloved sister, accompanied by his revered aunt and uncle. He generously rewarded his servants on Boxing Day for their dedication and loyalty, as was his custom. He rang in the New Year, resolving to maintain his priorities and stay on his intended path. He attended to estate business with a renewed vigor. He cared for his tenants with unrestrained compassion, as his father had done before him. He traveled to London earlier this month to supervise his sister's education. His duties as master of Pemberley were uppermost in his mind.

While in Town he had attended several pre-season balls, danced with the required maidens, paid his compliments to many beautiful heiresses and daughters of the ton who all boasted abundant dowries, and averted his eyes when ample bosoms had been displayed for his benefit. He had dined with earls and endured their suggestions that their daughters were of marriageable age. Certainly if he was so inclined, his future children would want for nothing.

None of these activities had served to divert his attentions or affections; none of the ladies of the ton compared to the woman he had left behind. The memory of her eyes clouded his mind, her laugh echoed in his ears, her scent followed him and her lithe form visited his dreams.

Memories of Miss Elizabeth Bennet had relentlessly haunted him for the past three months and he now questioned the wisdom of leaving her.

Certainly her family was ridiculous; her father had abandoned his responsibilities as head of his household, her mother was boisterous and vulgar, her sisters were similarly unchecked, and her parson cousin was an embarrassment. But Elizabeth was bright, intelligent, witty, well-read, talented, and observed every propriety; she was everything that was lovely.

Her connections were decidedly beneath his own; her friends and acquaintances in Hertfordshire were either low-class gentry or from trade; an alliance with her would surely bring nothing but shame and embarrassment to him. But Miss Elizabeth brought out the best in all of them; they consider her the jewel of their county and are certainly blessed to be in her company.

Her circumstances were of low standing and she had no dowry to speak of; an alliance with her would provide no advancement to his own wealth, as was the custom with marriages in families similar to his own. But his wealth was already well established that there was no need to advance it through marriage. Surely Miss Elizabeth herself was the prize to be won, more valuable than the greatest of fortunes. To win the love of such a precious jewel – that was a treasure worthy of kings.

(Author's Note: This story is now published as an e-book under the pen-name Cassandra B. Leigh. Please check my profile page for more information.)