A/N: Hey Gang, so I still have two possible plans, and have not made a final-final decision, but I think I know what I'm doing.
The feedback on this story is – interesting? Intense? Unexpected?
First off, I get way more hate-mail on this story than all my previous stories combined. Those who don't like it really hate it. There seem to be a lot of people who think Darcy has gone way over the line into irredeemable. A noticeable number have accused me of misogyny, which bothers me a little. I like to think I'm using the mores of the time for dramatic tension, but I suppose if I crossed the line, I'd be the last to know.
Second, there are a lot of reviews. For stories of over 5 chapters, I average 31 reviews/chapter across all my stories, with my previous peak being 41. This story has 70! If I remove the voting reviews, it's still 60. I don't know if that's COVID, or if this story just touches a nerve, but it's certainly getting a much stronger reaction than I expected – by a lot.
In the end, I'm not sure how to interpret the feedback, so I'll continue as planned. I try not to be bandied about by reviewer's opinions too much, but you are my readers, so I do pay attention and think about it. In the meantime, I've changed the fair warning on chapter 1 to much stronger language.
You all know I'm a software guy, but you probably don't know that I started out as a lumberjack. Millwrights have an old joke about how much to tighten a bolt. "Tighten it 'til it breaks, then back off half a turn". I may well have done that with this story. I tried to set the a**hole knob at 12, but I think I did that and then opened the panel to put a jumper on it and cranked it up to 15 or 20. Can these guys be redeemed without it being just ridiculous? I guess that remains to be seen. A fair number of reviewers think not, which is fair enough.
At any rate, for those that are still here and not storming off in anger and disgust, let's try an experiment. My fair warning this time is that I have an idea that I might try, and I might not. We'll see – but let us proceed with the part I am sure about and you will get a final decision after this chapter (I promise this time).
[Update – I have made the decision, and this is the first chapter of the new system. Pay attention to the "– Green" in the title"]
Wade
GREEN
Elizabeth, feeling the weight of somewhere between months and decades of anger and humiliation falling on her, shoved the door of the carriage open again, stuck her head out, and yelled in a most unladylike manner. "FAIR WARNING, MR. DARCY!"
The other carriage carried on for an agonizing quarter or half‑minute, and then the coachman called out the traditional. "Whoooa," and brought the horses to a grinding halt. One of the grooms jumped down and ran to open the door, only to find the Master of Pemberley jumping directly from the coach, and unfortunately for him, but somewhat to the amusement of his wife, landing in a small puddle.
With a face full of thunder, he walked across the intervening dozen or two yards that separated the coaches, walked up to his wife, who had by then alit from her own coach, (albeit in a far more decorous manner, and without stepping in any mud), and stared at her for some time. Stomach clenching, Elizabeth just waited to see what he would do. She had made her move and the next was his.
With a growl, her husband asked, "What do you mean, 'Fair warning', Mrs. Darcy?"
Feeling like the next fifty years might hinge on the next minute, Elizabeth thought for a moment about what her response should be. She had a ready idea of exactly what happened over time when a husband did not respect his wife and the converse. She was quite convinced that, even though her mother had actually staged the compromise that put her in this courtyard with this man that she loathed – it was in fact her father who was more responsible. The law of the land gave him a position of great privilege, supposedly allied with great responsibility, and yet, he spent his time trying to make his family worse instead of better, solely for his own amusement.
It occurred to her that she was at a crossroads. She could become her mother, or she could become someone else – ideally, someone closer to her Aunt Gardiner. Even though, as her new husband had just so callously pointed out, all the advantages and all the power of law and custom was in his hands, she had one power of her own. She had the power to try to make something better of their relationship than how it was currently moving. She had the power to try to see if there was a way out of the impasse. Perhaps he had all the legal power and all the money, but to her estimate, he had only half of their combined intelligence at best, and a tenth of their combined social skill.
Elizabeth thought that if she spent the next fifty years butting heads with him, they would both die sad and miserable. If she spent the next fifty years kowtowing to him, and catering to his every whim, she would die miserable, without ever knowing if he was a better man than he appeared to be. She alone had the power to try to look past the grim façade he presented to the world and see if there was something redeemable beneath. Only she had the power to start this marriage with a feeling of honesty, to see if there was anything worth saving, no matter how unlikely it currently seemed.
With the utmost effort, as if it was the hardest struggle she had ever endured, she gave him a slight smile, and said quite deliberately. "Thank you for remembering my name, Mr. Darcy. I will answer that question, but not standing here in a muddy courtyard in front of all these people."
Darcy growled, "I have a schedule to keep, Madam."
Keeping her temper in check, Elizabeth quite boldly stepped within a foot or two of the gentleman, then reached over and pulled her husband's pocket watch out, opened the case, checked the time, and replaced it where she found it.
She said, "I like to walk early, so I happen to know that dawn at this time of year is around eight o'clock. You have no hope of making Portsmouth, so you are not leaving from there, although I suppose it could be some minor port that I know nothing about; but for the moment, I will assume London. It is not yet two o'clock, so there are at least eighteen hours until your ship sails. You are four hours from London, which leaves you about fourteen. Let us call it twelve just to be safe. You can well afford a half‑hour to be civil to your wife. Only a fool would not account for the possibility of several hours of travel delay in the middle of the winter, and whatever else you may be, you are not entirely foolish."
The entire speech had come to her right in the moment, and Elizabeth realized she was taking quite a chance of making him even angrier. At first glance that seemed like a bad idea, but at that point, she did not even see that as a particular evil. Right there, and right then, he would show if his character was capable of amendment. If he turned around and returned to his coach, or chastised her even more, or ordered her into her own coach post haste – then her opinion of his character would be fixed. If he acted like some rough approximation of a gentleman, she would try to keep her promise to her father and give him a chance. It all hinged on his reaction.
Darcy stared at her for a moment, and finally asked, "What are you playing at, Madam?"
Trying to summon the courage she had applied in is presence before, she said, "Perhaps, I am trying one last time to sketch your character, sir."
"We have many years to do that."
"Perhaps – but …", and she paused a moment, and then asked, "… do you recall saying, 'I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offenses against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost, is lost forever.'"
Looking somewhat uncomfortable, Darcy paused, and finally nodded. "You have a good memory, Mrs. Darcy."
"Forever is a very long time, Mr. Darcy. I have seen the outcome of a good opinion lost forever personally in my own home, and it is a soul-destroying existence that I want no part of. I refuse to live my life that way. By 'Fair Warning', I meant that I intend to give you the benefit of the doubt. Unlike you, my feelings are not immutable, but their malleability does have its limits."
Darcy nodded slowly. "Perhaps, Mrs. Darcy …", and he scrunched his head in confusion. It still hurt like the devil, but he thought that this conversation might be the axis around which his entire life pivoted. Perhaps – and then an odd thought struck him. His wife taking possession of his watch just to calculate a number she already perfectly well knew, coupled with her impertinence reminded him – reminded him – well, he had to chuckle, which surprised both himself and the lady.
Elizabeth did not take offense to the chuckle, as she thought any humor that they could find in this situation was likely to be positive, so long as it was not like what her father offered, or some sort of gallows humor.
Darcy said, "This is off the track, but your stunt with the watch reminds me of a trick I pulled once. My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh …"
"I have heard of her. She is patroness for my odd cousin you met at the ball, the heir to Longbourn; the one you wanted to drown in the punchbowl."
Darcy chuckled, much to both of their surprises. "Ah, yes, well – my aunt was chastising me for making her wait to see me in my own house, when she came uninvited just to yell at me. I went outside, walked around for a minute, and then came back inside to inform her I had verified we were in fact in Darcy House, so we would abide by Darcy Rules."
Elizabeth looked perplexed. "I do not see …" and tapered off confusedly.
"It was a stunt – a low, but effective stunt. I did it both to slow down and redirect the flow of the conversation, which was tending rapidly towards a shouting match, and to make a point. I believe that you did the same thing. I have only done that once in my life that I can remember, and it was in reference to a conversation about you. Perhaps the world is forcing us together for its own amusement."
Elizabeth thought they were descending into madness, but that was preferable to the animosity she had been expecting to wallow in for the next decade. She said, "Yes, it was a low stunt. Now, are we going to continue this discussion in the courtyard. I hate to break what is probably your grooms most amusing day in years, but it is late December, and I am cold."
Feeling somewhat contrite and foolish, neither of which feeling he particularly liked, he said, "Of course!"
Much to her surprise, he walked over to their original coach, reached in to grab her shawl himself, then returned and draped it over her shoulders. By her count, he had 4 footmen, and 2 coachmen within shouting distance, but he either thought it was time to finally apply a small courtesy, or perhaps he just wanted to get it done without bringing any of his servants within earshot. Either way, Elizabeth decided to read it in the best light she could.
After placing the shawl on her shoulders, he said, "Mrs. Darcy", and offered his arm. Aside from substituting 'Mrs. Darcy' for 'Miss Elizabeth', it was the same tone, and the same gesture he had used at the Netherfield ball a hundred years earlier to lead her to their first dance. Elizabeth wondered if they would ever repeat the exercise. At that moment, she was unwilling to wager any better than even odds.
Wondering what she had in mind, Darcy led her toward the front door of the inn. When they got within earshot of one of the footmen, Darcy told him that they would both delay for an hour or so, and suggested they see to the horses and take some refreshments for themselves.
They entered the inn, where Darcy asked for, and received a private dining room. Elizabeth wondered what he would have done if one was not available, but she suspected he was a man who got what he asked for, one way or another. She supposed he might rent a bedroom if necessary, since they were in fact husband and wife; or perhaps he would just buy the entire inn and start throwing people out. She would not put it past him.
He surprised her by asking her opinion about refreshments, so feeling a bit like old times, Elizabeth asked the proprietor for a bowl of stew from the common hearth if they had it, or whatever was on offer if not. Darcy seemed confused by the order, but after thinking a moment, he asked for the same, much to her surprise.
He handled her into a chair in the usual gentlemanlike manner, and they sat with a pot of tea. Elizabeth prepared it for both, having learned his preferences almost automatically as she had been taught by her aunt. Darcy appreciated it, but Elizabeth thought no more of it than she thought about the fact that both her and Jane could easily fix the tea for any of the Netherfield residents, and just about anyone among the four and twenty families of the Meryton gentry. It was a very basic skill, after all.
When they settled, Darcy finally asked, "All right, what is this 'fair warning'?"
Elizabeth took a deep breath, and finally said, "Mr. Darcy, my 'fair warning' is mostly an attempt to get your thinking to match reality, instead of the preconceived notions you seem to be operating under."
Darcy frowned slightly, which gave him what he thought was a neutral look, but his wife thought just made him look haughty and remote –as usual– but he just tersely said, "Go on."
Taking a deep breath, Elizabeth said, "My warning is this, Mr. Darcy. I have not the slightest intention of becoming my mother. Granted, she never was the cleverest of women, and she wastes money like feeding it to the pigs; but I put the lion's share of the blame for my family's numerous defects at my father's feet. He has the power to set the tone for the family, and he has entirely failed at his duty."
Not liking the path of the conversation, he grumbled. "Carry on – I will hear you out."
Darcy thought he was being magnanimous, while his wife thought he was being stubborn and condescending as usual, but he was not the only stubborn person in the room, so she could not fault him for it.
"As I said, I am as much a victim of this situation as you are – perhaps even more so."
Darcy frowned, but Elizabeth carried on relentlessly, "Believe it or not, I do not find this situation any more acceptable than you do. You, however, have the supreme power of choice. You can do any number of things that I cannot. I am not entirely helpless though. Whatever society or the law or you might think, I am a rational human being who can make my own decisions. Here is my warning, sir."
He nodded his head, mostly seething, but at least willing to let her have her say.
"If you send me to Pemberley as the obviously unwanted wife, clear to everyone from the lowest scullery maid to the most powerful neighbor, penniless and powerless, a subject of ridicule and derision, expected to just sit and await your pleasure …"
Elizabeth could see the man staring at her more and more intensely, and wondered if the look was presaging unpleasantness, or even violence, sucked up her courage and continued.
"… I will not be there when you return!"
