Author's Note: Okay, I know this was a little dark and depressing, but this isa story about Darcy's past and so not all of it can be as sunny as I'd like. Anyway, thank you all for your wonderfully helpful criticisms! Please enjoy.
Chapter 6
Darcy stood on the balcony outside his and Elizabeth's bedroom and sighed, watching his breath escape in a translucent, white cloud. The end of the summer was swiftly approaching; he could feel it in his bones, stiff and desperate for exercise. The moon hung listlessly overhead, enveloped by the haze of a thin, expanse of cloud. They would have rain soon, or worst, a frost. Elizabeth's prized garden would be devastated. Elizabeth…
He looked down at his hands as he remembered the broken expression in her eyes the night before. She wanted a child more than anything and seeing her sister, Jane, and Charles with their own newborn only made her longing swell even more. Darcy, however, was patient. He welcomed the idea of a child, but was more concerned with his wife's happiness and health than his own. The thought of childbirth scared him more than he ever admitted. Only one woman knew exactly how deep-rooted this fear was, and he had no desire to see her ever again.
The nerve of that woman! Coming back to his home like that, making small talk with his wife, welcomed by his friends, thread-by-thread unraveling the very fabric of the life he'd managed to make for himself simply by renewing her presence there, however brief she insisted upon it being.
Turning angrily from the ledge, Darcy returned to his room and called for a servant. One appeared almost instantaneously.
"Sir?"
"Prepare my horse," Darcy spat. "I shall require no protection tonight."
"Very good, sir," the servant replied, and bowed. Darcy hastily wrote a note for Elizabeth in case she returned before daylight, although he doubted she would risk the dangers of traveling at night on the highways. As Darcy swept down the steep secret staircase that opened up behind a homely portrait in the guest bedroom wall, he slid his arms into a long overcoat and blinked back tears that had sprung up from the blast of cold air that ventilated the passage.
His horse was saddled and ready when he reached the stables and he leapt onto its back with ease. The servants knew not to disturb him, for he had made many of these same nocturnal rides before, but still, they wondered, as they watched from the servants' quarters, what had triggered the rekindling of the custom so long out of use?
The horse was fast and soon he had disappeared from view of Pemberley Hall and was alone in the great expanse of dark acreage that he owned. Overhead, only the moon shown faintly for the stars was blotted out by thick black masses of cloud. The cold front swept in with catlike stealth and now put an unseasonable chill into Darcy's bones. Even his horse stomped nervously under him, although it had been trained and bred for diehard steadfastness.
"Whoa," Darcy breathed before nudging the stallion forward. They galloped farther and farther out into the darkness, stumbling several times from the rocks which protruded from a mercilessly black ground. When the stumbling grew too frequent, Darcy slowed and dismounted. "All right, boy. It's all right, dad," he murmured, and tied the reins to a tall tree.
Dizzy with adrenaline, he tripped along the nigh invisible path until he reached a level plane of ghostly long grass that dropped away suddenly into a sea of night. He recognized the cliff he walked along from boyhood adventures and remembered how steep a drop the edge would take.
His chest heaving, Darcy squinted up into the sky and then collapsed to the ground, watching the frail moon bear down on him from the heavens. The grass was cool and dry yet, though the presence of rain was so imminent he could taste it on the breeze.
"Give me peace, God," he murmured, searching the distant face of the moon for a reply. "Let her rest. I see she's hurting. It will destroy her if you—"
A crack of thunder from far away cut him off.
"What am I to do?" he cried, louder now and pounded the earth with one fist. "Why did you bring her back here? She is no responsibility of mine! It will destroy Elizabeth if she knew! You're breaking apart my family!"
The low growl in the distance swelled to a steady roar until suddenly a streak of lightning shot across the barren sky. Darcy struggled to his feet and took slow, steady breaths to calm himself.
"I am happy now," he sighed, shoulders aching suddenly. "Must I return to hatred and anger so soon?" He kicked a loose stone in the earth and listened to his topple off the edge of the cliff as rain began to drizzle against him. "You took my mother, my father, and you reached out for my sister, but let lightning strike me down before you take my wife."
He said this in a deep, rumbling voice, the power of which by no means hampered by the growing storm. Darcy ran a hand through his slick, wet hair and looked up into the tempestuous sky. His mind was beginning to spin and the desperation in him began to overtake his senses.
"Let lightning strike me down—" he bellowed for a last time, but his footing slipped from the mud that bled freely from the earth and his breath was knocked out of him as he hit the ground. Rivers of molten earth ran around where he fell as rain splashed into his face.
Darcy realized suddenly that the ground would not be sound enough for riding if the rain persisted, and so he struggled to his feet. The thunder came louder and faster and it seemed as if the ocean poured freely from the sky. He took a step forward, but slipped and lost his balance in the unstable ground. He took a cautious step backwards to steady himself only to find that the earth fell away to a steep, dark hillside and he crumpled to the side of the cliff.
Desperately, he groped for an exposed root as he dangled from the edge, but the earth was too slick. He fell away from the ledge as a strangled cry tore from him, and he plummeted down, down, deep into the black sea beneath him.
