The storyline, new character development, new events, and new characters are my intellectual property. Glorioux
A short Halloween tale to be completed in Halloween,
Darcy, distraught over recent events, is ready to kill himself, but a female ghostly presence stops his attempt. Her fleeting kiss changes it all. Maybe it is time to stop Charles and his dastardly intentions. Perhaps all is not lost, and it is time to find a new life and new hopes; even if nothing is at it seems. Darcy knows there are things which defy human understanding,
A short story in Four chapters for Halloween-
Pretense and Promises
"Charles, I don't want to attend the assembly." Fitzwilliam Darcy looked haunted, his face was pale and his eyes were sunken, he wasn't himself.
"You must come, as you know, this is my last chance for a hunt, and my prey is nearly caught. Too bad, she could have been the one, but I am destined for greater things." Charles was dressing for his last 'hunt.'
"I cannot."
"You must start living again, your father never wished this for you. Many depend on you; hell, I need your support." Charles pleaded.
"Bye, right now, I am going for a walk."
He had been walking, not looking where he was going. He kept drying the angry tears that wouldn't stop. Why, why did she have to disobey? Now, he had nothing. It was best, he was going to end his life.
Darcy sat on a stone and took out a pistol, he would make it look like an accident. He had moved large amounts of gold and jewels into a vault. He let provisions for all his people, and sent an express to Richard with instructions for managing his affairs. Poor Richard, a good cousin, but the only one that could be trusted.
All his life, he had been so proud of their heritage, and now, his family was gone; he had nothing after he had it all. It took someone like George to destroy a family like his.
Darcy knew that he needed an heir and understood his duty. He also knew that he should stay alive for his people's sake. But, he couldn't go on living because he hurt too much. He patted his pocket with regret, he would never use its contents.
He had just put the special pistol to his forehead when he felt a sharp pain in his wrist; the gun seemed to fly away, and…it was gone. He smelled lavender and honeysuckles in the air and heard a female voice whispering, "You don't want to do this." A small hand caressed his cheek, as soft lips kissed him tenderly. A kiss with enough heat to melt a frozen lake, but as brief as a sigh.
As far as kisses went, it was the best ever. And that was it, when he stretched his arms, wanting to hold her, nobody was there; but, he could still smell the lavender and the honeysuckles. He demanded, imperiously, "Show yourself," and nothing, no answer.
He touched his lips gingerly and licked them with his tongue, "Delicious, who are you?"
No answer, nothing happened, she was gone, not even a trace of her remained, he had checked carefully. An eyebrow went up, I see, so she wants to be found; that is what I will do. She was playing with a pro. Nothing better than a good chase, now his sadness was vastly improved. His blood was boiling after a kiss that had set him on fire, his body was responding.
He was going to find her. The idea of an heir was, suddenly, most appealing. He patted his pocket, he had what he needed, after all.
Darcy went back to his room, although he dressed with great care, his attire reflected his mourning. His wavy and unruly hair stayed as it was, no pomade, it made him sneeze. For once, he left the hair's wild coloring intact; under the candlelight, it was challenging to see it correctly. He also wanted to hunt, but his intentions were not Charles'. Fitzwilliam Darcy wanted something entirely different.
At the assembly, he went around scouting, certain that she would be here. He saw Jane, pretty but no substance, besides she didn't smell of lavender and honeysuckles. He knew that he would have to be astute if she where to be found; she wanted to hide that much was obvious. He didn't believe in ghosts, but there were things that defied human understanding, he was a good example.
He was distracted while searching when the elusive lavender and honeysuckles assaulted his sensible nose. His heart accelerated as he followed the scent, but it was easy for him. The trail took him to a sprite of a young woman, who ignored his presence. It was her, his nose flared and a hint of a smile brightened his gloomy mien. She was looking intently at Charles, who danced with the blond doll.
The blond doll was one more to fall for his act, poor lady, Charles wasn't available; he was betrothed to marry soon. His bride's choice left much to be desired, but she was titled, a duke's daughter young and pretty...nasty; his bride wasn't the best of choices.
So this blond doll was Charles' last fling, he remembered his words, "This will be my last hunt…before I am forced to keep my gun in my trousers, my bride has made this clear." Too bad, she seemed like country gentry, like a nice lady.
Charles, his friend, had four by-blows, the mothers abandoned and forgotten if not for Darcy. He took what he wanted; he was spoiled and selfish but was the best of friends.
Darcy asked a stranger, who reminded him of a fox, about Charles' doll. The friendly young man informed him that she was one of five sisters. Jane Bennett was her name, the family's beauty, according to many, but he had plans for one of the other sisters.
"Who is she, the other sister; is she here?" Darcy knew the answer, but wanted to confirm it.
"Ah," the young man grinned, "if I told you, you might see her true-self, and I would lose her." He winked, and the next minute he was just gone; he had disappeared into thin air. Darcy shrugged his shoulders, what else was new?
Darcy moved next to the beauty, "Why aren't you dancing, are the locals blind?" He asked the one who looked like a wood sprite and was probably one. He inquired expecting a lie, well knowing those of her kind weren't always truthful. He knew a whole lot, he should since the proud façade hid a somewhat different Darcy.
She looked at him, the proud man touched by pain, a recent sorrow, poor thing.
"I should ask the same question," he could see that she was amused.
Probably with a private joke, Darcy thought and made a face; she was playing with him, let her have her fun, it was most enjoyable. The sprite had no idea who he was, nobody did. "Why are you so amused?" His face was much changed from earlier that day,
"Ah, there is a poem I read, "I wanted to dance, I did- Sadly, my not yet lover might never be mine- I wanted to dance, I did -Sadly he is not mine and will never be...So, I said, why dance?" She smiled just a little, "Really, why dance? One must agree with the silly poem" She sighed and grinned.
Darcy's brow went up. "Well, since I am a stranger, or, better said, let's pretend that I am one," he breathed closer to her, her scent made his heart race, "you should dance with me."
Elizabeth heard his words, "...let's pretend that I am one." But decided to ignore them. For now.
A/N So what is going on? Poor Darcy!