Excerpt from my Work In Progress: Fortune and Felicity -2

Here’s the first chapter from my Pride & Prejudice variation Fortune & Felicity. It’s my second post, so if you haven’t read it yet, I would recommend reading the Prologue first. As you can see from the date, the actual story starts seven years after Darcy’s disastrous proposal at Hunsford. I will leave you to read the excerpt now, and I’m looking forward to reading your comments. 

Chapter 1 

1819

The funeral was a select affair. Both families were represented – the Earl of Matlock’s relations sitting on one side of the church, and the de Bourghs on the other. There were no uncomfortable displays of grief, no tears, no unpleasantness. Darcy was glad he had at least been spared that. He had been afraid his aunt Lady Catherine would make a scene and was vastly relieved that she didn’t.

She had been her usual disagreeable self, however, before the ceremony. She had insisted on burying Anne at Rosings, asserting for some strange reason of her own that she was a de Bourgh and that she should be placed in the de Bourgh family vault. Darcy had fought it, both on practical grounds and on the grounds that Anne had relinquished that name when she had married him. However, in the end, he had not wanted to deny a mother her wishes for her child’s burial. He did not think Anne would have cared, one way or the other.

Once he had acceded to Lady Catherine’s wishes, she had naturally taken complete control of all the arrangements. The new clergyman, Mr. Holland – the replacement of Mr. Collins, who now resided in Hertfordshire – fumbled his way through the service, intimidated by the illustrious personages gathered in his church who – he was overheard saying to one of the parishioners earlier– came straight out of the pages of Debrett’s Peerage. Darcy would have been annoyed by all the man’s bowing and scraping, except he couldn’t quite get himself to feel much of anything.

Darcy looked around the desolate number of people attending the ceremony – precious few if one discounted family members. The fact was, very few people would miss Anne. She had never had friends, and though he had tried to encourage her to meet their neighbors at Pemberley, she had shrunk back, finding it all too strange and intimidating. He had hoped marriage would improve her, and that being removed from the proximity of her mother would encourage her to discover some inner strength that was hidden underneath all the blankets and the cosseting, but it was not to be. Not even the birth of a child had roused her. It had taken almost all her strength to produce little Catherine, and she had given the child five years of exhausted attention. Then her strength had finally failed, and she had slowly slipped away, a small wisp of a thing, growing thinner and thinner until she seemed little more than a silent shade inhabiting the halls of Pemberley.

Darcy was making no effort to play the role of the grieving husband. He had cared for Anne, of course, in a manner of speaking. She was his cousin, and they had known each other since childhood, but he had not managed to engage her attention, try as he would. She held herself apart, doing her duty as a wife with little interest, and he had long since given up any attempt at anything beyond polite exchanges. Most of their conversation had centered on little Catherine, but even that had always been limited.

No one asked him to say anything about Anne. No one said anything at all. It was as if she had not been a real person. He reflected on the time they had had together, barely listening to the service. At some point, Mr. Holland reached the end and the congregation rose, so Darcy rose too, making his way to the back of the church to stand by Lady Catherine

and receive condolences as people filed by.

“Well, Darcy,” said the Earl, clapping him on the shoulder. “Well, then. I suppose you’ll need a mother for the child soon. Don’t leave it too late. Children need a firm hand, especially girls. I’ll keep a lookout for anyone appropriate for you.”

Darcy stiffened. “I appreciate the thought, uncle,” quelling any aspirations his uncle might have, “but it is far too soon for me to think of such things. There is still the mourning period to go through.” He had done his duty the first time. He could not possibly endure another cold marriage such as this one had been.

“Of course, of course,” said his uncle, “you must observe the proprieties, but you had better not wait too long. You need an heir, pass on the blood and all that. Can’t let the side down. Can’t have the line die out.” He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. “Have to think of those things, you know.”

“Naturally,” said Darcy.

Deciding he had humored his uncle long enough, he turned his attention to the next person in line, who happened to be his cousin Fitzwilliam.

“I, for one, shall miss her,” said Fitzwilliam, giving Darcy a firm squeeze of the shoulder. “She may not have been a particularly happy person, but she has been part of our lives since we were small children. It will be strange not to have her around.”

Darcy gave his cousin a half smile. He could count on Fitzwilliam being sincere and saying the right thing without being hypocritical. “Yes, she has been in my life for some time. Seven years, now. I can scarcely believe she will no longer be part of it.”

He felt a twist of grief, then, a sense of loss, accompanied by a trace of regret. He should have tried harder. Maybe there was something more he could have done to bring her out of her shell. He might have made a more concerted effort to build a sense of affection between them, the kind that existed between man and woman, to help her find fulfilment in her role. Perhaps he had been the one at fault. When they had first married, he had been too focused on recovering from his unfortunate obsession with Miss Bennet to give Anne the attention she needed. It was possible Anne had made an effort at the beginning, but he had not been ready to give her what she needed, and by the time he had recovered, they had settled into a fixed pattern that was impossible to change. He felt the futility of it all. He could do nothing more to help her now. Guilt mingled with a sense of deep sadness.

“You were kind to her, Darcy,” said Fitzwilliam, somehow understanding – as he often did – the conflicting feelings Darcy was experiencing. “Which is more than can be said about most people.” He looked towards Lady Catherine. “You did your duty and gave her a home and made her a wife. Not many would have done that, knowing Anne’s fragile health.”

There were those who had thought him a fool to marry someone sickly who was unlikely to have given him a healthy heir and might linger a long time, giving him no chance to re-marry. His uncle Matlock, who was not one to hold back, had said as much. Those who approved of the marriage assumed he had coveted Rosings Park and wanted to consolidate the Darcy power by acquiring more property. He had had no such aspiration. Pemberley was more than enough for any sane gentleman to manage. There were enough problems there to deal with, let alone taking over an estate that was being run by the obstinate Lady Catherine, who never listened to anyone’s opinion.

It gave him some satisfaction that those naysayers who thought Anne incapable of playing her role were proven wrong. Anne had defied all odds by giving birth to a child, and, so far at least, little Kathy seemed blessed with a robust, healthy constitution. He felt a surge of affection for the little girl, and a surge of gratitude to Anne for having brought her into the world. He would not have wished that undone for anything.

Anne had not lingered, either. Ultimately, she had proved everyone wrong on both counts, and though he could not feel any gladness at the latter, he found comfort in Fitzwilliam’s words. Darcy had at least given her an opportunity which no one who was not a fortune hunter would have given her at twenty-eight. He had not done her a kindness. He had simply fulfilled the plans that had been set in motion during his childhood with a sense of inevitability.

He had only been tempted – sorely tempted – to break away from his destiny once by falling in love with Elizabeth Bennet.  Fortunately, he had managed to evade the siren who had almost – very nearly – driven him to take an unknown path that he would have regretted bitterly. Fortunately, when she had turned him down, his strength of character had come to his aid, and he had stuck to the straight and narrow.

Well, he was free for the first time in many years, and he didn’t intend to become shackled for a while. He had always done his duty. He had ensured Georgiana had grown into a confident young lady, despite some hiccups along the way. She was now very happily married, with her own family and a large household to manage. He had done his best by Anne. He had taken care of his daughter, to the best of his ability, far more than might be expected of a gentleman in his position. Perhaps it was time for him to find the person he had lost some time ago, before he had reeled under the weight of responsibility.

In other words, and despite his uncle’s words, he did not owe anyone anything. His life was his own, to live it as he pleased. To throw off the mantle of responsibility and take a deep breath, and to see something of the world.

Off to London then, to sow a few wild oats and to discover what it was that he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, wanted out of life.

*~~*

I hope you enjoyed reading this chaper. I’d love to hear your reactions!