Here are random one shot that I wrote. Some are connected some are not...they are just one scene, I may used them to write longer books...I may not...I am still new to this! Here is my first story...
Prejudice is Blind!
"But love is blind, and lovers cannot see The pretty follies that themselves commit." ~William Shakespeare
Upon her first read, her prejudice was so secure that she clung to it and her dislike of Mr. Darcy as fervently as Miss Bingley clung onto Mr. Darcy's arm. When she reached the part concerning Wickham, her faith in her beliefs wavered. Her prejudice would not be overcome and thrown away by such an account; she could not be wrong. No, she would re-read the account and find she was justified. Yet on second persuasion, instead of finding fault with Wickham's account, she found more justifications for his reasoning for separating Jane from Mr. Bingley. With her lack of sleep and the turmoil of her wavering feelings, she was determined to put the letter away and think no more of it. Yet she had not gone more than a few feet before she was pulling it out and once again examining it.
Over the next week, she examined the letter more and more, each time another blinder would fall, and her shame would overwhelm her. She would have to put her reflections on hold before she became overwhelmed with examining too closely her perceived failings. Reflecting on Mr. Wickham brought her the most shame; his story was all too convenient. She never questioned it, even when her friend, sister, aunt, and even her father did. How she had allowed her prejudice to cloud her judgment over that point! She was so very, very foolish. How inappropriate was that conversation in which she gleaned so much of her blinders. As long as something implicated Mr. Darcy, she would have been inclined to believe almost anything. Yet upon reflection, even without Mr. Darcy's letter, she should have seen through the lies.
Mr. Darcy's father provided him with a university education, but did Mr. Wickham take orders? Was he ordained? If Mr. Darcy denied the living to him, could he not have pursued another living elsewhere? Mr. Wickham was around Mr. Darcy's age, and yet he bought a commission in the militia. What had he done with his life since university? And what of his many contradictions? He said he would not let Mr. Darcy's presence keep him from attending the Netherfield ball, yet he volunteered for duty to avoid him. He said he could not speak ill of Mr. Darcy while remembering his father so fondly, yet as soon as the Netherfield party departed, he voiced his disgraceful claims to the community. In these actions, Mr. Wickham had revealed himself to be a coward and a liar, yet she swallowed his story fully. If Mr. Darcy did not reveal his sister's disgrace, would she have allowed her blinders to remain? That thought alone was unnerving.
Then there was her reflection on her sister's situation. If Jane were in his shoes, suspecting a friend was about to commit herself to a man who did not love her, would she have warned her off and done everything in her power to save her friend from such a miserable fate? And perhaps what hurt the most was that Mr. Darcy's justifications were grounded in truths she really did not want to see. Jane was shy and not prone to show her emotions, just as it seemed Mr. Darcy was. Upon further reflection, she saw how the Colonel hinted to her about Mr. Darcy. To be truthful with herself, was it really Mr. Darcy's mistake or Mr. Bingley's? Was it not Mr. Bingley who had spent hours on end with Jane? Mr. Bingley, being more in her company than Mr. Darcy, should have, perhaps, shown greater discernment if there was actually something for him to discern. And further reflection, she knew Mr. Darcy heard her mother's mercenary gloat; if Jane was not in love with Mr. Bingley, yet he asked, would she have married him because her mother would have insisted, like she tried to insist when Mr. Collins proposed to her?
Then there was the insult that started her blindness. If she were honest with herself, yes, he should not have said that, but they should not have been discussing his income so loudly, or his status or looks. He may have said what he said to get his friend to leave him alone and to stop the mercenary townspeople from having expectations. He probably would have said that about any girl Mr. Bingley pointed out to dance with; it just so happened to be her. The unjustness of his comment was just that, and yet she let it color every subsequent meeting with him. It was one ill-conceived comment; if he had heard the one she made of him that night, would it have justified him intensely hating her?
Then, reflecting on what he said about her family, if she was honest, and she had to be, he was not wrong about them. He could have said it better, or not at all, but then again, there were so many things she had said to him that should not have been said. In reflection, she had said perhaps worse things to him and about him than he had of her. But then that begged the question: how could he have fallen in love with her?
There were the conversations they had; she wanted to call them arguments, but they were debates, and he actually engaged in them and listened to her points without demeaning them, unlike other men. He must have thought she was flirting with him; she engaged in these debates and teased him into, she guessed, loving her, or at least thinking he loved her. Could she have returned his love, found something more to like or even love about him if she had taken all the time they had been together to really get to know him?
Oh, those walks at Rosings; he probably thought she was inviting him instead of warning him. How cruel had she treated this man, so cruel all because of one insult? No, she could not reflect any more on her prejudice, or it shall destroy her.
As Elizabeth grappled with these revelations, she felt the weight of her prejudices lifting, like blinders being removed from her eyes. Each acknowledgment softened her hatred towards Mr. Darcy, nudging her closer to a realization she had yet to embrace—a realization that perhaps her feelings towards him were not as straightforward as she had once believed.