I debated about sharing this one shot...I swore I would only write D&E together forever, but after reading several Prefect Lizzy Stories where the author's had made Darcy to be a complete jerk, I wanted one where Elizabeth was in the wrong, I search and read all I could find and I will admit some of them influenced this story but I hope I put enough of my own twist on it...and this is what I got...don't kill me. If you are so set again Darcy and Elizabeth not ending up together I would skip this one...be warned. Elizabeth stubbornness is at 1000& turned up along with rash quick judgement and stubbornness, and I gave Darcy his HEA with someone else. I wrote this one while I was in the middle of writing Midwife and swore I would never post it but for the moment I am thinking why not.
Judgment in Haste, Regret in Time
It was the evening of the Netherfield ball, a night when the air was filled with the excitement of the season. Music echoed through the grand hall, and elegant gowns and sharp coats swept across the polished floors. Elizabeth Bennet had been dancing, her mind slightly elsewhere, when a sudden commotion interrupted the flow of the evening. Lydia Bennet, flushed and clearly a few too many glasses of wine into her evening, made her way through the crowd. With a giggle and a stumble, she collided directly into her sister, sending Elizabeth crashing into none other than Mr. Darcy himself.
Darcy's strong arms caught her with surprising ease, but Elizabeth felt the tension in the air as their bodies briefly touched. The moment was brief but charged with the awkwardness of their history. She quickly straightened, eyes narrowing at her younger sister, who was now giggling uncontrollably.
"Miss Bennet!" Darcy exclaimed, steadying her with a careful hand. "Are you injured?"
"No, no, I'm quite fine," Elizabeth replied quickly, brushing herself off, though the entire room seemed to have frozen in anticipation.
"You should take more care, Miss Lydia," Darcy added, his tone clipped as he gave the younger Bennet a look of disapproval. Lydia, oblivious to the tension, simply laughed louder and was whisked away by a concerned Mrs. Bennet.
But the damage was done. The gossip began in hushed murmurs throughout the room—the sight of Elizabeth and Darcy together in a compromising position. The whispers only grew louder when Mr. Bingley arrived and quietly informed Darcy of the rumors circulating that a marriage proposal was imminent.
Later, in a quiet corner of the room, Darcy found Elizabeth standing with her father, her expression distant and solemn. Her heart fluttered in an unexpected twist of fate; she had always been wary of Darcy's aloofness, but now, the idea of facing him once more in such a situation was almost unbearable.
Mr. Bennet, sensing the urgency, stepped aside with Darcy to discuss the matter privately. Darcy, ever the gentleman, immediately declared his intention to do what was proper.
"Miss Bennet, given the circumstances," Darcy said, his voice low but firm, "I must offer for your hand in marriage, to resolve the implications of our... accident."
Elizabeth's face paled as the weight of his words sank in. Her first instinct was to refuse, but the eyes of the guests weighed heavily on her. She straightened, clearing her throat.
"Mr. Darcy," Elizabeth began, her voice cold, "I must refuse your offer."
Darcy's expression faltered. "What do you mean?" he asked, clearly taken aback by her words. His tone was sharp but laced with confusion.
"I will not marry you," Elizabeth replied firmly, her gaze never wavering from his. "Mr. Collins proposed this very morning, and I would rather marry him than you."
Darcy's brow furrowed, astonished. "Collins?" he echoed, his voice thick with disbelief. "You prefer him... over me?"
"Yes, Mr. Darcy," she said, the words coming out more bitter than she intended. "At least he does not leave me in perpetual uncertainty, nor does he parade his superiority in front of me at every opportunity."
Darcy's lips parted, stunned by her words, and then, with a cold sneer, he responded, "You are a naive, foolish girl, Miss Bennet. You place your trust in the wrong people." His eyes narrowed, growing dark with contempt. "You would marry a man like Collins, a pompous fool, rather than accept a gentleman's offer when it is given. You truly are blind to the truth."
Elizabeth's breath caught in her chest, but she refused to show any vulnerability. "It is you who are blind, Mr. Darcy," she spat, her temper rising. "You refuse to see that you are just as foolish in your own pride. How many people have you wronged, all for the sake of your so-called honor?"
Darcy looked as if he had been struck, his anger simmering beneath the surface, but his pride still refused to crumble. He glanced away briefly, attempting to regain his composure. "So this is your decision then," he said, his voice colder than before. "You will marry Collins, a man who cannot even discern his own shortcomings?"
Elizabeth held his gaze firmly. "Yes, Mr. Darcy. I would rather marry a man who knows his place than one who thinks himself above it."
For a long moment, Darcy simply stared at her, his jaw clenched tight. "I see. Then I shall leave you to your mistake." His voice, though quiet, carried a weight of finality that left Elizabeth feeling oddly bereft.
With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Elizabeth standing, trembling not from fear, but from the sudden rush of emotions that she could not fully comprehend.
But before she could even attempt to process what had just transpired, her father stepped back toward her, his expression one of quiet disbelief.
"Well, Lizzy, I must say, that was an unexpected turn of events," Mr. Bennet said, his voice tinged with amusement and a touch of bewilderment.
"I cannot say I did not enjoy his shock, Papa," Elizabeth replied, her voice a mixture of bitterness and relief.
"I suppose we shall see if Mr. Collins can live up to his promise then," Mr. Bennet said, his words carrying a hint of irony.
Elizabeth, though, was lost in thought, staring after Darcy as he exited the room. She had done what was necessary, what society expected of her. Yet, deep down, something unsettled her, a nagging feeling that the future she had just chosen might not be the one she truly wanted after all.
That winter Mr. Darcy had been at a function for about an hour, when he encountered an acquaintance from Cambridge. His Gracy Patrick Hayes, the Duke of Wentworth who was about two years Darcy's senior, had both lost their fathers at almost the same time and had to assume their responsibilities at an early age. That was not the only similarity between the two young men. While he was more sociable than Darcy, which admittedly was not difficult, Wentworth had also been a conscientious student. Wentworth was in the company of a stunning young woman. She was tall with dark curls and piercing green eyes, expect for the height, she reminded him of Elizabeth but that had ended badly.
Darcy and Wentworth having completed their greetings and customary pleasantries, the Duke grinned as he noticed Darcy eyeing his companion. Wentworth exchanged glances with his companion and receiving a nod, she said, 'Rachel, I would like to introduce to your acquaintance Mr. Darcy of Pemberly in Derbshire. We met at Cambridge. Darcy, I have the pleasure to present my sister, Lady Rachel.'
Darcy was pleasantly surprised that the lady responded to the introduction pleasantly but without effusion. She did not simper, and she did not fawn over him, two attributes which immediately endeared her to him. As a consequence, Darcy asked the lady to dance.
The conversation during their dances was pleasant and wide ranging, and Darcy could not remember a more enjoyable time at a ball. Intrigued by the lady, started to visit his friend and was pleased to encounter Lady Rachel on many of his visits. Each time he engaged her in conversation. They debated about estate management, books and music.
Just before Easter he asked for her hand and was granted permission. So, it was a happily married Darcy that encountered a miserable Mrs. Collins. He did not feel sorry for her as she had altered a lot, her lively eyes were dulled, and her manners were subdued as her husband and his obnoxious Aunt, Lady Catherine chided her regularly to improve her impertinent and lively ways. Mr. Colin's seemed to have taken delight that Elizabeth had favored him over the handsome and wealthy Mr. Darcy, which was clear when Collins gleefully and triumphantly smirked at him, every single time he encountered him at Rosings.
Darcy was not bothered by the man's attituded at all, he had done his duty and was grateful that his infatuation and honor did not tie him to one who was too stubborn to see the good in him. He had found his love, his wife, his other half.