A/N: Thank you to frostedflakes for the review of Chapter 1, I'm so glad you liked it! I'm not usually keen on Martha either to be honest, but I thought I'd explore her character a bit!
Chapter 2
Fitzwilliam Darcy marched away from the grove where he had handed Miss Bennet his letter, his strides getting longer and his breath coming faster as his mind whirled out of control. He was angry, he was bitter, he was confused – but most of all, he was hurt. A multitude of emotions which he hadn't felt since his father's death, so long ago now. Elizabeth's words (no, Miss Bennet's – she would never now grant him the right to call her by her Christian name) from the previous day had knocked the breath out of him, and he struggled to understand. What had he done to make her despise him so much? Her rejection was more than just a romantic disappointment – it had dealt a blow to a self-confidence and pride which he had always possessed, ever since childhood. She had rocked the very foundations of who he was. And he hated her for it.
Was there any justice to her accusations? She was mistaken about Mr. Wickham, of course. A wave of self-righteousness washed over him. She had misjudged him completely, failed to understand his character - failed to even try to do so. And she had dared to condemn him for his honesty, for the truths about her family which could not be denied, and which were in fact so relevant to his suit? As for his other supposed failings, he could not deny that he had separated Bingley from her sister, but he had acted from the best motives, which she had not even attempted to consider.
His anger overwhelmed him for a few moments and he took a certain sort of perverse satisfaction in it. He was in the right; that could not be questioned. Her accusations were based on false premises, stemming from her prejudice against him, which had seemingly been formed in the earliest moments of their acquaintance. And she had the audaciousness to condemn him for pride, when she possessed a failing which was far more injurious.
And yet…could there be a grain of truth contained in her allegations? He was forced to admit to himself that his behavior upon first meeting her had not been entirely admirable. He had insulted and belittled her, barely giving her a second glance, and flatly refused to stand up with her. Her resentment was perhaps understandable under the circumstances. But she was so far beneath him – was it so unforgivable for him to wish not to become involved? And as for dancing, he simply loathed it. Surely there was no law against that.
But he had been raised to comport himself as a gentleman, and his behavior at that ball had undeniably been ungentlemanly. To insult a lady went against his upbringing, and the image of his father's reaction had he been alive to hear Miss Bennet's berating him struck him forcibly. He couldn't help but feel ashamed, and he wondered how this thought had not occurred to him before. And if this failing in his behavior had escaped him, what else could he have missed?
Ungentlemanly. The word rang in his head as he recalled Miss Bennet's reaction to his proposal. '…Had you behaved in a more gentlemanlike manner.' He winced involuntarily at the memory and a flush spread swiftly across his face. Had she been correct? Regardless of her connections, he ought to have treated her with respect, as he had been taught to do, no matter what somebody's situation in life. Worse than that, he had claimed to love her whilst insulting her and the people she held dear. Surely that provided adequate grounds for her fury!
His anger at her fled in an instant, converted immediately to self-recrimination. He had behaved in an unforgivable manner – little wonder that she despised him. She had the right to do so. Darcy had never doubted the correctness of his attitudes towards others, nor his behavior to those of a lower class. Yet now he was reduced to questioning everything he had once held to be certain about himself and his own capacities. He felt as if he had been torn from everything that had once tethered him to reality, left adrift in uncertainty.
What's more, the relinquishment of both his anger and his certainty left room for other, even more undesirable feelings to move in. The sense of pain and rejection, the heartbreak which had been kept at bay until now by his other preoccupations, returned in full force. Hopelessness washed over him. He would never have the chance to win Miss Bennet's heart, never have the chance to spend a lifetime with her, never hear her call him by his given name. His love burned as strongly as it had immediately prior to his impulsive proposal, but now it was tinged with despair and the pain of the unrequited. It truly did burn, and he could hardly bear it. His dearest, loveliest Elizabeth…yet she would never be his. Could never be his.