A Pride and Prejudice Song-Fic
Chapter Two
Darcy collapsed into his favorite chair in his study. He now had time, and inclination, and freedom for reflection. Yes, freedom, for while he was in wedlock with another woman he had always tried to push thoughts of Elizabeth quickly away from the forefront of his mind. But now that his cousin, his wife, had suddenly succumbed to the Reaper who had been calling her name all her life, he could now consider that fine-eyed woman without feeling himself guilty of infidelity in his heart . . .
I mistook the warnings for wisdom
From
so called friends quick to advise
He recalled how so many of his acquaintance were so quick to point out the evils of Elizabeth---her lacking fortune, her low relations, and, though Darcy could not exactly distinguish the fault, her disposition---his cousin had been opposite to her in everything. Bingley's sisters, whom he had spent much time in the company of that distant summer, lost no opportunity to express their disapprobation. It pained him now, to think that he too had shunned her in spite of his feelings, for the sake of her circumstances. He recollected how he had known that Lady Catherine, his aunt, would have strongly disapproved the connection, especially had she been in attendance at the Netherfield Ball.
Though your touch was telling me otherwise
He closed his eyes tightly; wincing as he remembered what he had not meant to: he had danced with her there, that night. Darcy gazed at his hand, tracing with his finger where she had touched him. His heart had palpitated on account of that barely-occurring contact. She had captivated him very early in their acquaintance with her arch, yet sweet temper, apparent intelligence, and decided beauty. He knew, in society's standpoint, that he had been bestowing the honor when he stood opposite of her that evening, but now, and for some time, he had recognized and felt the honor she had given him in accepting.
Somehow I saw you as a weakness
I
thought I had to be strong
Oh
but I was just young, I was scared, I was wrong
Darcy thought of how foolish he had been in his actions to her. He ought to have cultivated her good opinion of him, instead of taking it for granted that because he thought well of himself, all others should as well. His pride had brought him to ignore her, the one woman who could have made him happy, who he willfully ignored. The last time they had met, it had been at the Netherfield ball, and he had paid her the interest she deserved, but the meeting before he had been resolutely cold, silent, and indifferent. How he regretted it now! His feeling of self-consequence had blinded him to what was truly important. He had been so foolish as to cast off any acknowledgement of his affection for the sake of his dignity, and yet, with dire irony, ever since he had lost his power to choose his future companion in life, he had lost all of his self-respect.
Not a night goes by
I
don't dream of wandering
Through
the home that might have been
Darcy heaved a heavy sigh. He had never been able to forget Elizabeth, and it was certainly not for lack of trying. He never got the chance. Every night, he had that same odd dream. He was wandering the familiar halls of Pemberley, and yet they were so different from what he knew them to be. There was love lurking in the corners, the walls bathed with shining raiment of domestic contentment. It was a joy to him simply to roam the halls.
And
I listened to my pride
When
my heart cried out for you
The dream was sometimes vague, sometimes so real he only realized he was dreaming when he came to the part that injured him the most, just before he awoke. Throughout the halls, he heard echoes of laughter, and he was searching for the source. He would at last enter a room, different each time, and find Elizabeth there, smiling and holding out her hands to him. Then, as he tried to step towards her, he was held back, by wraiths of himself, taken from the room and forced to lock the door.
Now every day I wake again
In
a house that might have been
A
home
Sometimes, when the dream had been very real, he would spring from his bed and leave his chamber to stand in the hall, looking up and down searchingly. And then he would weep, there, in the darkness he had created.
Guess I did what I did believing
That
love is a dangerous thing
Oh
but that couldn't hurt anymore than never knowing
He was sure now that Elizabeth had despised him throughout their short acquaintance. How could she not? He had been drowning in the knowledge of his consequence. If he was disgusted now, surely she could not have felt less then. He had, at one time, felt himself right in quitting the neighborhood directly after his friend, to release himself of her. What did that now avail him? He would never know if she could ever learn to care for him, because ten years ago, she too had married.
Not a night goes by
I
don't dream of wandering
Through
the home that might have been
And
I listened to my pride
When
my heart cried out for you
Now
every day I wake again
In
a house that might have been
A
home
A
home
Without being able to help it, he imagined what it would be like, with her here. She would perhaps be sitting near him now, perhaps even dozing in the chair opposite him, while he could gaze lovingly at her, her long lashes just touching her soft cheek. In an instant, he saw a child cuddled in her lap, gently breathing-NO, no! He must stop; he must! The pain was too great. He stood sharply and gazed agitatedly about the room.
Four
walls, a roof, a door, some windows
Just
a place to run when my working day is through
He was often in this room, burying himself in his work, pretending to be satisfied with his life, but he knew now that he would never be able to work here again, for upon entering it, he would always remember this dreadful tryst through his mind and his memories. He was interrupted by a quiet knock at the door.
"Sir?" the housekeeper called softly.
"Come in," he said brusquely.
The aging woman opened the door and stepped to Darcy's side.
"I was wondering, sir, if you should like to see the child." She uncovered part of the tiny bundle in her arms revealing a head with brown, downy hair and closed eyes. "She is very healthy, the wee babe. Very tiny though." Darcy looked down at this child, spellbound and unsure. "She shan't cry, or likely wake up for a time," continued the housekeeper, gently placing his child in his arms, "but mind her head." She looked at the child a moment. "I'll leave you to yourselves, Perhaps, sir, you might think of her name?"
They say home is where the heart is
If
the exception proves the rule I guess that's true
Darcy looked earnestly at the infant in his arms. His infant. It was natural that his thoughts flew to what at captured them before, but he was ashamed now. Mrs. Elizabeth Follows has no business in my thoughts. There is no doubt she is happier than I, with her husband, and so it must remain---His silent resolution was interrupted. He raised his eyebrows as the tiny maiden in his arms opened her eyes. She looked at him, not moving apart from a few sleepy blinks before she closed them to sleep again. Darcy's heart was full.
He sat with his child until the housekeeper came in again to take her. "I'm glad you see you've gotten acquainted, sir, but I'm afraid I must take the little one. Have you chosen a name, sir?"
"Her name shall be Anne, of course. In memory of the departed, my mother and my wife. Come and take her, Mrs. Reynolds," said the widower briskly. Darcy watched his daughter as the capable hands of the housekeeper took her from him. "Anne Elizabeth." The housekeeper smiled and quitted the room. Darcy was soon deep in thought again.
He had a daughter. What on earth was to be done for the girl? It was certain in Darcy's mind that he wanted to be the one to raise her . . . in spite of the indifference he had always felt for small Anne's mother, she was still his child and he wanted do be the very best for her. And furthermore, he had greatly missed what company a companionable female was since Georgiana had been married. Ah, dear Georgiana, Darcy smiled. She has fared better than I.
Not very many months after Darcy's wedding, Georgiana had met and fallen in love with respectable, sensible young man, Mr. Hawthorne. He was not very rich, but he was a man of integrity and made Georgiana feel comfortable, something that Darcy felt even he had never quite succeeded in. So, when approached by Mr. Hawthorne to ask his sanction, Darcy did not answer him nay. Georgiana was, and continued to be, perfectly happy and she was now preparing for her first lying-in. Darcy could not be more glad for her (though he could not be so for himself): he learned early that if he could be unhappy with a larger fortune than he was accustomed to, she could be happy with a smaller one. Mr. Hawthorne could only become more respectable, and his strong attachment to Georgiana was an undeniable credit to him.
Darcy shook his head. He had once thought that if Georgiana would marry his friend, Bingley, there could be no better thing. Life, however, had taught him better. Bingley was also happily married, to Mrs. Follows' elder sister. Darcy had once thought there had been no affection on the lady's side, and pressed his friend to give up the acquaintance. However, the influence of one of Bingley's other friends had been applied and proved Darcy mistaken. He had thought that Miss Bennet's connections were below Bingley's, and knew that his interference would be revealed. He had been angry, and had all but given up the acquaintance. Now, however, he saw that it was better, for if Bingley was happy then Darcy ought to be happy for him.
After all, Darcy thought, I shall never be so happy myself.
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