Hi everyone, thanks so much for reading and reviewing this story, it means so much to me. To those of you who've mentioned it, yes, I'm sorry but I should have told you this story will be quite angsty for a while, but ultimately I think you'll like where I'm headed.
Disclaimer: Only in my dreams do I own P&P.
Darcy stumbled back to Rosings Park, hardly knowing where his feet were taking him. By the time he reached the steps, he realized he was again entering the dragon's den, Lady Catherine would be waiting, ready to disparage him, give him a lecture about his responsibilities and loyalty to his family above everything else. He couldn't take it, not today. Making a snap decision, he about-faced and headed quickly towards the servants' entrance. He'd just about made it to the upper floor leading to his room when a voice called him back and he inwardly cursed at the intruder.
"Darcy!' Colonel Fitzwilliam called out, striding towards him, "we'd quite despaired of you."
Darcy kept his back turned away, hoping to avoid facing his cousin, knowing he looked a wreck and couldn't handle any questions. Instead, he mumbled a noncommittal reply and kept going.
He felt a hand clap him on the shoulder and sighed in defeat. "Darcy?" He could hear the concern in Fitzwilliam's voice and it nearly brought tears to his eyes. "What's the matter?" Stepping in front of him, he took in Darcy's dishevelled and thoroughly depressed demeanour. "Good God man!"
It was too much, pushing him over the edge. Darcy ducked his head and tried to continue, making it as far as his door handle, feeling his throat constrict.
"Is it Georgiana? I swear, when I get my hands on Wickham, I'll..."
"No, it's not Georgiana." His voice came out hoarse and he winced. He cleared his throat and started again, "it's just, uh... I'm not feeling well, I was going to lay down for a while." He still couldn't bring himself to look at his cousin.
"Darcy, please," Fitzwilliam begged, softening his voice like he was talking to a child. "It's me, you know you can tell me anything. What's going on?"
"Richard..." He finally looked him in the eye and saw the concern. "I... I can't... I need to be alone, please, I..." His eyes pleaded with him not to push the issue any further. "Not now..."
"Ok...If, if that's what you need. I'll take care of Lady Catherine, don't worry. Just..." He didn't know how to continue, wanting desperately to help but not knowing where to start. "I'm here ok."
Darcy nodded, trailing his eyes to the carpet again. "Thanks", he murmured, pushing finally through the door and barricading himself away in his room. He saw his face in the mirror and turned away in disgust. Removing his cravat and boots, but not bothering with the rest, he slumped onto the bed and curled up on his side, letting his misery at last overtake him.
...
He was vaguely aware of a servant entering a couple of times to bring a plate of food and take it away again untouched, no doubt it was Fitzwilliam's doing. He could hear Lady Catherine's booming voice at the foot of the staircase demanding for his to attend dinner and then insisting on seeing him personally once Colonel Fitzwilliam informed her that he was unwell. He heard Fitzwilliam argue against bringing in the doctor, saying he simply needed rest after overworking himself lately. Darcy dearly wished that were the case instead of the reality.
He felt tears sting his eyes again, a few drops clinging to his lashes as he clenched his eyes shut, trying to block it all out, hoping in vain to just go to sleep and wake up tomorrow with all of today's events just being a bad dream. He was weak, powerless to even so much as lift his head. He just stared out the window watching the day draw to a close.
Her words echoed in his head, repeating themselves, driving each recrimination home further, deeper. She was right, entirely right about him. He was beyond redemption. If only he could just end it now, but he felt even in that he was a coward. He couldn't do that to Georgiana, even though he questioned again what kind of brother he was. How could he ever hope to be a role model for her when he was such a failure?
Darcy's valet entered some time later and hesitated beside the bed, shocked at his master's state. He stuttered out something about changing clothes but Darcy simply shook his head, not for one moment tearing his eyes away from the window. He heard the door close a few seconds late and assumed he'd left.
Needless to say, Darcy didn't sleep at all, instead preferring to remember all the events of his life leading up to this bitter existence. He saw himself with new eyes, through her eyes, and deeply hated the man he'd become.
His arrogance, his pride, his selfish disdain for the feelings of others... In one short argument she'd summed him up completely, exposed all of his flaws so eloquently that the thought of her beautiful flashing eyes as she hurled those words at him, struck him again, leaving him gasping for air.
The next day passed in much the same way, alternating between depression and agony. Darcy didn't know which was worse, the stabbing sensation that cut through him in intervals, or the resignation he felt, the numbness that came with knowing his life was over and that he'd be forever cursed with the memories playing in his head of her rejection. He knew he'd never love another as long as he lived.
Again, the servants came and went, his valet tried prodding him with a little more effort to change his clothes and clean himself up, but nothing made a difference. For the first time since the death of his parents, Darcy felt lost with no way out. There was nothing left for him. He could see himself 20 years from now, walking around like a skeleton, a shadow of his former self.
But he wasn't angry with her, oh no. The initial anger he felt lasted mere seconds. How could he be angry when she spoke only the truth?
He knew it would only be a matter of time before his cousin would barge through the door and demand an explanation. In a way, he was surprised he'd lasted until the following day.
A knock followed by the door opening directly after alerted him to his presence.
"Darce..." He could hear the worry in his voice, the footsteps coming closer to the bed. "Please tell me what's happened. You know I can't help until i know what's wrong."
"You can't fix this," came the tired reply, his voice sounding rough, like it hadn't been used for a long time.
"Everything can be fixed, it's not the end of the world, surely."
Silence...
"I know I told Lady Catherine not to call a doctor but truly I can go right away if you need one." Fitzwilliam peered closely at his cousin's face, taking in the dark circles, the red puffy eyes, pale complexion. All he received in response was a detached shake of the head. "Have you slept at all? Because I know you haven't eaten anything. And Banes says you haven't changed your clothes or even left the bed for 2 days. What the devil is the matter?"
Darcy closed his eyes, willing the pain away. How could he tell him?
"Darce... please..."
"She hates me," came the whisper, like it was being forced out of his lips. "I can't bear it."
"Who? Georgiana? She doesn't hate you, if anything, she's grateful to you and maybe a little guilty for having been so deceived. But she would never blame you!"
Darcy shook his head. "Not Georgiana..."
"Who then?" Richard sat down on the bed, trying to wait patiently.
Darcy just looked at him in an attempt to telepathise his thoughts so he wouldn't have to say them out loud.
Richard shook his head in disbelief. "Miss Bennet?" Darcy's grimace at her name confirmed it. "I don't believe it!"
Darcy opened his mouth and shit it a couple of times before he could form the words. "I'm the last man in the world she could ever be persuaded to marry." The moment he said it, the pain hit him again and he hunched over trying to block out the light and the shock on Fitzwilliam's face.
"You proposed? Good lord man, you don't waste time, do you? No wonder you disappeared the other day without a word to anyone." The Colonel was lost in his musings for a few more seconds before he realised the effects his words were having on his cousin. "Did..." He paused, hesitating, not wishing to cause further pain. "Did she give any reason for her response?" he prodded gently.
Darcy nodded, "Many." He attempted to bury his face in his pillow and the next words came out muffled, causing Fitzwilliam to lean forward trying to hear clearly. "Our entire acquaintance has left her with a decidedly poor opinion of me. I'm sure she's cursing the day I came into her life."
"Then she cannot know the real you! If only..."
"No!" Darcy cut in forcibly. "She knows me better than I ever knew myself." He shook his head sadly, "And it's all my own doing."
"But surely...?"
"Please Richard, I can't do this anymore. It hurts too much. I don't want to talk about it." He saw Colonel Fitzwilliam open his mouth to say something, then thought better of it and simply stood, staring down at him. "I just want to be left alone Richard."
The Colonel nodded mutely and marched over to the door, pausing to look back for a moment before leaving the room.
Outside, Colonel Fitzwilliam leaned against the wall and released a long breath, pursing his lips together in thought. "Time to have a little chat with Miss Bennet I guess..."
Please R&R!
