The million years distance between people of landed gentry and people of trade…

"So you want to marry her?" She wasn't looking at him, fearing he would see the tears in her eyes and the trembling of her hands.

Her pride couldn't let that happen, he could let him see anything but her weak state. He would use later to his own benefit. He was always that way and she was the naïve girl that thought how honourable he was.

"Yes." He didn't walk towards her. He was standing at the door, just where he first came and delivered his news. "She could be a good mother for my children."

"But not me?" Miraculously, her voice didn't waver.

"Well, yes. Don't say it that way Caro. She's the daughter of a gentleman, but you…" he didn't finish his sentence, but she knew because he mentioned it time and time. But you are the daughter of a tradesman. She could never reach them. The only proud of those girls were their father's heritage.

She worked hard to learn many things, but then it didn't matter. It didn't matter that she was educated very much. It didn't matter that she was praised by so many masters of arts and other things. It didn't matter that she was so accomplished, because even a girl who didn't learn anything could marry him, only because she was the daughter of a gentleman.

His steps echoed in the silent room, stopped and circled his hands about her body.

She wanted to wrench out of his hold, but he had the hold over her. He always had. She couldn't say "no" to him.

His rich voice crawled its way into her body, sipped to her heart, "but marrying her doesn't mean that we have to change our relationship. You are my passion and love and she is helping me to improve my legacy. You have two different roles."

It was a sweet lie, to trick herself that she had the better position than her, that his passion and love was directed at her, but she couldn't lie to herself anymore. He was using both of them. Maybe, Eliza didn't know and thought she had the man she wanted as best as a woman could have, but she only mattered as the mother of his future children, but she knew and couldn't lie to herself.

One woman was too proper that couldn't be his lover and one was too passionate that couldn't be the mother of his children.

She wrenched herself out of his grasp and said, "No!" Turned around and looked into his eyes. "You can have whoever passionate lover you want, but not me. Just remember that, one day –" she pointed her finger at him, her whole body was shaking, "One day you shall be remorseful and you don't have neither a forward path nor a backward path. I am more than that girl. Know that, Mr. Darcy, there will come a day when it doesn't matter if I'm a daughter of a tradesmen or even I, myself, am a tradeswoman and you lot as a gentleman and gentlewoman would be the losers. Now, get out –"

"Caro–" he was getting that he was losing her, trying to prevent it.

"Get out, get out of my house," she screamed.

She fully collapsed onto the ground.

A NO Happy Ending for Daroline.

This Darcy is… I'm speechless.

I cut out these few paragraphs, because they would make the story soapy! But if you like a hea, here's that kind of ending.

She didn't see him till years later when he needed money for keeping his lands. After the industrial Revolution many gentry families lost their money and it seemed Darcy wasn't immune to it, after all they were gentry and it was beneath them to invest in trades.

Her husband – who she got to know after prisoning herself from visiting anyone for half of year – and she decided to help him, actually her husband asked her opinion and she decided to help after having conflict in watching the Darcy family's ruination or making them owe them for life.

He was ashamed and thanked them, but she didn't acknowledge him. She had more important matters to care about, for example, expanding their fabric factories.

Good day, old sports!