Hello everyone!
Here are some scenes that wanted to get out of my head but that would have ruined the nice, round ending I wanted to achieve. They will do so anyway, l'm afraid, but I could also not just not upload them after I wrote them.
What do you think? Leave them out altogether or extend the original story to include them, instead of ending with the circle closing with Darcy's being bowled over by Bennet ladies during his betrothal?
As always: If you liked it, please let me know. If not, please do so too and tell me why so I can do better with my next story :)
"I really hope they will find the ring" Mr Darcy said after a while, glancing back worriedly. "I was my grandmother's."
"Well", Lizzy said, squeezing his arm. "If not, they won't have cake for a week at least. Believe me, they will find it, even if it takes them all day."
Back at Longbourn, it was starting to get dark and Lizzy was starting to worry. The Netherfield party had left a while ago to dress for dinner and Lydia and Kitty still weren't back. This time of the year, the path was not always easy to walk and her little sisters didn't know the way as well as she did.
Concerned, she got up and looked out of the window. Then, she looked for Jane and found her sitting with Mary. "I will go to Oakham Mount and look for Kitty and Lydia. Can one of you two accompany me and the other distract Mama?
A short time later, Mary and Lizzy were on their way. They did not have to walk far though, since they soon heard loud voices cursing colourfully. Lizzy and Mary looked at each other and Lizzy made a a shushing gesture. Mary nodded and they tiptoed further along the path.
Glancing carefully around the next bend, there they saw their sisters, huffing and puffing, sweaty and in disarray. A long handle of a shovel was lying across their shoulders with several voluminous sacks bound to it.
When Lydia spotted them, she threw down her load and glared at Lizzy. "You! You try finding a ring in all that foliage in one afternoon! Be glad we had the idea to bring it all with us instead or you would never see that ring again! Now, get our rake, Lizzy, we abandoned it five Minutes ago, and you, Mary, distract Mama while we get these sacks up to our room!"
Hefting the shovel's handle back up to her shoulder, Lydia grumbled. "That ring better be worth all this. At least we will get to see it first."
At dinner that evening, when Mr Bennet stood and cleared his throat, Richard looked at him only briefly. Instead, he was watching Miss Bingley.
She was a beautiful woman, with good elegant style and a handsome fortune. Some might hold her temperament against her, but he personally quite enjoyed her biting wit and temper. If it weren't for her hopeless fixation on Darcy and how Hertfordshire's rural environment combined with her increasing desperation seemed to erode her grasp on social etiquette, Richard thought he might actually admire her. However, that was neither here nor there considering the present situation.
Last time, Richard had noticed how Miss Bingley had almost lost it when Miss Elizabeth had coaxed a mere laugh from Darcy. Expecting both Darcy's and her brother's engagements being announced right about now, Richard hoped that Miss Bingley would not explode and cause a scene.
He noticed how her lips thinned and her eyes narrowed, and he braced himself for an outburst. Then, however, Richard was surprised to see her take a deep breath and put on an expectant smile. If he had not watched her before, he never would have doubted its honesty.
Later that night, long after they had returned to Netherfield, Richard felt restless. Darcy's happiness, even in face of him being hopelessly overtaxed by his enthusiastic absorption into the Bennet clan, was somehow weighing him down and he could not quite put his finger on the why. Thus, way past midnight and in his shirtsleeves, the Colonel was wandering the halls, feeling old.
When Richard came past Bingley's study, he noticed a faint sheen beneath the door. Well. It seemed the lad was still awake. Maybe some company would help him shut down his mind.
Thus, the Colonel knocked and opened the door. A low fire was burning and the back of arm chair in front of it cast a long shadow towards the him. He entered and shut the door. Out on the desk sat a decanter - he took it and sniffed it - of port wine. Ah. Those long warm evenings in Portugal. He would like to see that country again someday, when all the fighting was done.
Filling a glass he turned to the fire, and met the eyes of Miss Bingley who was sitting in the armchair with her back straight, leaning slightly towards the fire. The flames' muted glow flickered across her face, painting its angles in sharp contrasts and bringing out the red in her hair. He could hardly make out her expression, but she was watching him keenly.
When he hesitated, she gestured to the other chair near the fireplace. Well. He had been searching for company, he would not question it now. He sat and stared in the flames, cradling his glass.
After a while in which they sat in mutual silence, Miss Bingley leaned forward and fed a letter to the flames. He noticed she had quite a few left, lying on a small table next to her. One by one, he sat and watched as they became fewer. At the third or fourth or fifth one - who cared, really - she suddenly spoke. "It is quite absurd, isn't it? I had all those prewritten letters addressed to all my so called friends in town, informing them of my happy news. Then, I thought, they would finally have to respect me." She laughed bitterly. "What a fool I am."
He continued to be silent while she held a new letter to the flames until its edge started to smoulder. When he didn't react, she continued. "Don't get me wrong, Colonel. That was not my reason for desiring your cousin, or at least not the only one.", she said quietly, eyes firmly trained on the smoking paper. "He is a good man, and one who respects that women are capable of rational thought, deserving the right to be heard and considered."
Miss Bingley laughed harshly and the flames threw a bright harsh flicker across her features, as the paper finally burst into flames. She threw it into the fire place. "I could never be somebody's mere silent armpiece, there only for decoration and money, no matter how stupid the man himself was. There are very few like that with whom I would stand a chance. Now I can start looking anew if I want a chance at having my own family someday." Taking a sip from her own glass of the sweet port wine, she mused "Had I known earlier that the way to his heart was discussing the theory of women's vote as he did with Miss Elizabeth lately, I could certainly have satisfied that. And if you tell anyone I said this, I will deny it."
Richard felt a bone deep sadness settling into him at her words. When the silence stretched, he said quietly "It is harsh, having to realise that something that you considered to be your dream - your calling, really - and that you have been chasing for years..." he trailed off and swallowed, a leaden weight coiling into a heavy knot deep down im his stomach. Quietly he acknowledged to himself that he was not talking about Miss Bingley anymore. "Well. That you cannot possibly have it."
Both of them sat there for a long while, silently watching the fire burn. Finally Richard added quietly "At least you, Miss Bingley, had a real chance to begin with. My own mistress was cruel from the start and revels in the deaths of all those poor lads." He sighed and drained the last of his port wine. "Maybe we would have fewer wars if women had the right to vote. One can hope."
Neither Miss Bingley nor the Colonel ever acknowledged their night in the study. However, a firm understanding and sense of camaraderie had settled between them and they often turned to each other for company, when the engaged couples' romance became to much.
A few years later, Caroline was rolling her eyes at Mrs Bennet's back.
The matron had decided that, since the Bingley's had no mother of their own, she would be the one responsible for throwing Carolines wedding breakfast. After all, the young woman was practically her daughter in law!
Privately, Caroline thought that Mrs Bennet just could not get enough of planning weddings, and now that her own daughters were all married and Mr Darcy had put his foot down with regard to Miss Darcy, Caroline was her best chance at making one final splash.
Richard, who was striding up to her, caught her eye rolling. "Now now", he said, taking her hand and kissing it lingeringly. "What would you do without her?" Caroline just tsssked. Yet, she could not deny the exasperated affection she had come to associate with the old busybody.
Then her betrothed added with an impish smile "I found something, by the way, that you may want to recycle." With that, he pressed a letter into her hand, seal old and crumbling. "A pity you burned all the rest back then - now you will have to write the lot of them anew."
As Richard strode away, Caroline folded open the letter. Therein, she notified Miss Kingsley - now Mrs Widdleham - of her betrothal. Where the name of the groom had been, a large black blot made the name written there unrecognisable.
In its stead, extending between lines and overflowing into the margins, was written "The honourable, exceedingly brave and handsome, irresistible, dashing, most wonderful man alive; a certain Mr Fitzwilliam of Springdale in Surrey, son to the earl of Matlock and former General of her Majesty's army, discharged with honours, acknowledged by the queen herself and called a national hero in the London times. You may have heard of him?
Caroline rolled her eyes again, this time at her betrothed, and put the letter away. Later that night in her rooms at Netherfield, she took it out and turned it over in her hands. Then she smiled and stuck it between the coals smouldering in her fireplace, watching until it caught fire.
Her sleep that night was deep and peaceful.
