Repentance. Somehow, of everything he had felt since that fateful kiss at the ball, repentance stung the most. It wrapped heavy fingers around his heart. Despair burned hotter than anger.
He'd behaved abominably, he knew. Rude and uncivil throughout their rushed courtship, sham of a wedding, and tumultuous wedding night. How had he been such a fool? He might just have spoiled his marriage forever with two weeks of sullenness. Would she forgive him?
The morning after their wedding. They needed to leave, to get into the carriage, the journey to London. But she – his wife – had stood, motionlessness, staring out the window.
"Madam." He'd said. Then a little louder, "Madam." After a pause, though it pained him, "Mrs Darcy." But still, she could have been stone for all she responded.
He sighed, stepping further into the room and shutting the door behind him. "Lydia?"
Her eyes snapped to his. The blankness in her eyes had given way to deep sorrow. "That," she swallowed, "Is not my name."
Confused, he tried again. "Lyddie?" If possible, she looked even more depressed – apologetic? Afraid? "I'm sorry." He tried to be gentle, tried to undo the boorishness of last night. No longer livid and drunk, he was ashamed of what he had been.
"No," her voice was dull, and pained, "I'm sorry."
He stared at her.
"It was-" she shuddered, swallowed, and tried again. "It was Lydia. She-" then angry, "foolish, foolish Lydia! It was a dare, some kind of joke – kiss a stranger, get away with it." She stopped, abruptly, heaving with emotion. The most animated Darcy had seen her.
"But you-" he broke off in confusion.
She sighed, her sorrow returning. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. "You are an honourable man, you tried to do the right thing… and had your opportunity stolen."
Darcy held his breath.
"My mother – she is not usually so sly – managed to create a great confusion when she found you. No one was sure what had happened. I suppose," she smiled wryly, "you heard a great many rumours involving various ladies, gentlemen and acts of seduction."
He blushed, and she sighed apologetically. Then, continued, "Lydia was sent to town the next day. She is," she struggled for words, "headstrong… spoiled – she is but fifteen."
She did not seem to notice his flinch at the thought of Georgiana, fifteen herself. Instead, she continued, imploringly, "She could not be made to marry you. She is so young."
He tried to soften his face, to alter his demeanour in any way which would reduce her quaking and anxiety. "I was drunk," he began apologetically. She nodded her head slowly.
"It was not your fault," her voice, now a hoarse whisper, betrayed the pent-up emotion she carried, "my mother saw the chance to marry off one of her daughters. I look the most like Lydia, I'm older, and," she sighed, "my mother never liked me, and it suited her to marry me off to an unknown country gentleman from a far county."
"I'm sorry." Mr Darcy was troubled. "You have been badly used, you have more right to sorrow than I knew."
"No!" She held out a hand imploringly, "it is you who have been badly used. I- I was a coward. I allowed you to marry me, thinking you were doing the honourable thing, when you were, in fact, throwing yourself away."
"No," he tried to infuse gentleness into his grave tone, "you have been honourable above all; sacrificing yourself for your sister, refusing to complain, bearing all my ill-temperedness with grace. Would that I could one day deserve such a wife."
She smiled tentatively, and, emboldened, he reached for her hand. "Come, we have much to talk of, on our journey to London, my lady."
"You know my name." She whispered. "You pledged yourself to me."
He did. The drunken memories of other people calling out fell away, and he recalled the softness of her hand in his, the bitterness with which he had mindlessly repeated his vows. "Elizabeth," he said her name like a tender caress, hoping to erase what he could of the last two days, two weeks even.
She smiled up at him, and nodded in affirmation, "Lizzy."
"Mrs Darcy," he returned her smile, and – giddy with the delight of their tentative resolution – he kissed her forehead.
Thanks for reading! I know my fics are a bit abrupt at the moment, and I'd love help developing my style. I'm planning to use this as a backbone for a second fic: a longer version of the same events, but from Lizzy's POV. Any feedback (positive or negative) is very gratefully received!
