A Second Chance
Chapter 2
Fitzwilliam Darcy was surprised that his valet, usually so up to the mark, had neglected to lay out his evening shoes. Then he very nearly blushed and ruefully shuffled his feet, shoes absentmindedly having been put on five minutes before.
He didn't often go to balls, although he did make an effort to attend at least some of society's biggest events, and of course hosted Pemberley's Christmas dance every year. When he did attend, it was from an effort to be a gentleman, not to disoblige his host, or to ensure that he not hurt a lady's feelings, rather than an expression of his natural inclination.
He closed his door gently and stepped into the long corridor on the upper story of Netherfield. It was quite a walk to the ballroom.
He remembered when he had first seen her, and dismissed her so flippantly, and then how her charms had built up against him, and how he had fallen for her. He skipped over how he had so thoroughly mistaken her feelings, and how she had set him straight. He had written her a letter then, and gone home to Pemberley, and thought about what she had told him. He had looked into his soul, and had found himself lacking. At first from a reaction to her fury, and then from a growing understanding of how much happiness he was giving his sister, and finally from a deep knowledge and self-understanding and joy, he had changed the way he related to others and the way he treated them. He strived to be a better person and to treat all with respect.
It had been seven years since he had been in this part of the world, seven years in which scarcely a day had gone by when he hadn't thought of her. First with mingling passion and hurt, then with shock and a deep sense of loss at her marriage. In the intervening years his thoughts had quietened somewhat, but she was the standard against which he unknowingly measured all females. When his friend Charles Bingley carelessly dropped a piece of information about her, he surreptitiously drank it in and subtly squeezed him for more. He had heard of her first child, a son, and years of domestic felicity. He at least could be happy she was happy, even though his heart burned when he thought of what might have been. He spent many nights tossing, and upon waking, realized he had dreamt of her again. He buried himself in his books, his work, and spent long stretches of time with his sister. He was happy and fulfilled, but with a very real feeling that there was something missing from his life. It wasn't as if he hadn't tried; he had looked at the young ladies presented to him, but there was something lacking. Their eyes lacked spirit, and he found their pleasing conversation insipid. He found himself perfunctorily requesting the honour of a dance with this young lady, or that young miss, but he could never summon up more interest than kind civility. There had been a dashing young widow with flashing eyes who had roused his interest for a short while, but she seemed like the wind-up nightingale in the fairy tale, all glistening gems and sparkle but no natural music at all. He had struggled against the cards that had been dealt him, and had often thought he would never marry. How could he think of marrying when behind every fan he imagined he would see her, and every glossy head brought her image to mind. He wouldn't take a young innocent to wife whilst so deeply in love with another.
Then came her husband's shocking death, and another birth, and now he was going to see her. He had kept away, wanting to save himself the unrelenting pain of seeing her when he could not have her. He remembered her sister's wedding, him fresh with the recent knowledge of a third sister's unaccountable marriage. The temporary confusion that had afforded him, and the clenching frustration it had happened at all, had made him unable to talk to Elizabeth at all, and beyond a slight softening of her manner towards him, no doubt accorded by the letter he had written, it had been a wasted opportunity. He didn't know that the next time he would see her she would be engaged to another. He felt much more unsure than he could remember In his 34 years. He had never minded so much before what a woman would think of him. But he wanted to please her. Very very much. He wondered if she was much changed from the girl he had once known so briefly. Then he chided himself, that was a lifetime ago. That short amount of time seven years ago had meant everything to him. He wasn't sure it meant anything to her at all.
His old shyness threatened to overcome him as, hesitating, he stepped into the ballroom.
Shaking Charles' hand and grasping him by the shoulder gave him something to do with his hands.
"Mr. Darcy, we are so pleased you managed to join us."
Author's Note: Thank you so much for all the encouragement, ideas, and questions I have received. I take everything on board and am so grateful for all the interest. I hope this chapter will answer some of the questions and issues raised. Enjoy! And let me know what you think.