One shot no HEA for D&E, its more of a nightmare for Caroline...at least this is how I thought of it as I wrote it.

I got Everything I Thought I Wanted

Caroline Bingley had always known that marriage to Mr. Darcy would grant her everything she could ever desire—power, wealth, and the prestige of being the wife of the richest man in Derbyshire. After years of subtle scheming and an insufferable confidence in her own superiority, Caroline finally got what she thought was her prize: the cold, aloof Mr. Darcy himself.

It wasn't easy, of course. She had long sought to make Elizabeth Bennet's life miserable, desperate to prove herself the superior woman, the rightful match for Mr. Darcy. But circumstances, as they sometimes do, had conspired against her. Elizabeth, in her simple beauty and unpretentious nature, had captivated Darcy, and for a time, Caroline had been forced to live in the shadows of that unremarkable girl from Meryton.

But the situation had shifted in an unexpected way. Darcy, despite all his natural pride, had allowed himself to be compromised—through no fault of his own, of course. But still, it was enough. A hasty proposal followed, and Darcy was duty-bound to marry her.

Caroline had smiled as they exchanged vows, imagining a life filled with the luxury and admiration she had always deserved. Once the ceremony was complete, she believed she was to be the envy of every woman in London, the jewel of the ton, married to the most eligible bachelor in England.

But her dreams, she would soon discover, were nothing but a mirage. The first sign of trouble came not long after their arrival at Darcy's grand estate in Pemberley.

Darcy never touched her.

Pemberley, though undeniably comfortable and stately, was not the palace of grandeur and opulence Caroline had envisioned. She had arrived with high expectations, already planning to redecorate the estate, transforming it into the most magnificent home in England—one that would reflect her elevated status as Mrs. Darcy. Yet, to her shock, she was given no authority over anything. There was no grand budget at her disposal, no power to make even the smallest change.

She had assumed Darcy would grant her the control she believed she deserved, especially now that she was his wife. But Darcy made it clear that the house would remain as it was, and her desires to alter it were dismissed without even the slightest consideration. Mrs. Reynolds, the housekeeper, largely ignored her instructions. When Caroline suggested changes, she was met with polite indifference, as though Mrs. Reynolds found it beneath her to engage with her orders. Caroline couldn't even fire anyone if she wished—Darcy had made sure she had no power in the household. She was, it seemed, an ornament, not a partner in running the estate.

It wasn't just the house. Darcy's attitude toward her was one of cold detachment. He seemed almost angry, though he never raised his voice. His eyes were full of reproach, a silent judgment that weighed heavily on her. The anger, she thought, was due to her having compromised him before their marriage. She had hoped, foolishly, that time would heal the wound, that eventually he would forgive her for the social scandal that had bound them in this unhappy union.

But Darcy never softened. He remained distant, his affections for her still as absent as the passion he had for Elizabeth Bennet. Caroline tried to ignore it, telling herself that he would come around eventually, but deep down, she feared he never would.

Her settlement reflected Darcy's anger. Instead of the lavish allowance she had imagined, Caroline was granted only the interest from her dowry—an amount far less than she had anticipated, and certainly not enough to fulfill her desire for luxury. The money was hers, but there were strict limits on its use. She was forbidden from spending it on any redecorating or extravagant alterations to Pemberley, his London house or any of Darcy's other estates. Her dreams of transforming their home into a glittering palace were crushed before they even began.

Undeterred, Caroline decided to indulge herself in other ways. She turned to her favorite modiste, ordering a new wardrobe of the finest silks and jewels. However, when the bill arrived, she tried to have it charged to Darcy, expecting him to simply pay it as any dutiful husband would. To her horror, she learned that this would be the first and last time she could do such a thing. Darcy refused to cover the cost, and the modiste was informed that future bills would be directed to Caroline herself. She was left humiliated, a reminder of just how little authority she actually had, even over the smallest indulgences.

In London, where she had expected to be the glittering jewel of every ballroom, Caroline found only mockery. She thought that, as Mrs. Darcy, she would become the object of envy and admiration. Instead, she became the laughingstock of the ton. Whispers followed her wherever she went, her every move scrutinized, her every attempt to shine met with derision. Darcy, whom she had believed would stand by her side and shield her from criticism, was hardly ever present at events. When he did accompany her, it was out of reluctant duty rather than any genuine desire to be seen with his wife.

Darcy never defended her. He remained distant, silent, and indifferent to the cruel remarks that were often made in her presence. He would stand beside her at events but rarely spoke to her or even acknowledged her existence beyond the formalities. When they did share a conversation, it was devoid of warmth, his words clipped and to the point. There was no affection in his gaze, no tenderness in his voice. Caroline, once so confident in her own power and beauty, felt small and invisible.

Caroline had envisioned herself as the queen of the ton, but she was instead a forgotten figure, a woman in a gilded cage. She had won the battle, she had Mr. Darcy, but it was a prize that brought her no joy, no comfort.

And yet, she held onto the hope that, eventually, Darcy would soften. She tried to convince herself that time would change things, that he would come to see her in the light she had always imagined. But deep down, she knew the truth—that their marriage, born out of obligation and necessity, was one that would never give her the happiness she had so desperately craved.

One afternoon, as Caroline wandered the grounds of Pemberley, she looked out over the hills and thought of the life she had left behind. It had all seemed so simple in her mind: marry Darcy, take her place at the top, and live the life she had always dreamed of. But now, she understood that she had misjudged everything.

She had thought that winning Darcy's hand would give her the happiness she desired, but it had only trapped her in a loveless marriage, one that served her desires in the most hollow of ways. She had everything she had ever wanted—but none of it had turned out the way she had imagined.

With a sigh, Caroline turned away from the horizon, and as she walked back toward the cold walls of Pemberley, she knew that this would be the life she would have to live—forever.