Jane in January: Another New Beginning

Greetings! Are you enjoying our current Jane in January series, as we talk about story inspirations? Earlier this month, I shared how most stories sneak up on me as a single scene. Something I did not mention is that most of them take a long time to marinate (at least for me).

Today I bring you a special treat. This is a story that began in the head of a precious friend, Jeanne Garrett. She sat down and furiously tapped out a scene, and then, dear friends, this generous, brilliant soul shared her idea with me to see if I might do something with it. We chewed on it, stewed on it, and then tabled it, as I was just about to publish London Holiday and still had Nowhere but North to finish, as well as my contribution to Rational Creatures AND another WIP (the opening scene of which I shared two weeks ago right here). If you’re counting, that is well over eight months ago, and as far as I know, Jeanne had been sitting on this egg for a while before that.

With the new year came a new set of resolutions, and for me, that meant that I was going to write a whole lot more. I contacted Jeanne again about her story, and we decided to launch it here on the Austen Variations blog as a serial. So, once again, a story is born.

-NC (with the help of Jeanne Garrett!)

I pressed my fingers to my temples and sank lower in my chair as another moan sounded from behind the door. None of it had been my fault, but I bore the blame of it. Between the deepest groans, it was my name she cursed in her agony.

Footsteps raced from the basin to the bed, voices echoed low and strained, but the sounds of agony went on unabated… weaker now than when they first began all those hours ago.

I ought to have felt sorrow, guilt, fear… a father’s desperation or a husband’s anguish… but I was simply numb. Maids came and went—I could hear the door to the main hall opening and closing repeatedly, but I could only hold my vigil in the adjacent sitting room, a powerless wretch who knew not even his own mind.

The hands marched round the face of the clock, and the room grew quieter each time they advanced. Then, what I had most dreaded and longed for came in a moment. The door creaked, and Mrs Reynolds stepped softly into the room behind me. I never turned to face her—there was no need.

“The babe?”

I heard her sigh. “No,” she whispered.

“And my wife?”

There was a long pause, then; “Mrs Darcy’s suffering is over.”

I blinked, staring at the wall, and swallowed. “Then we are both free.”

Six months later

I stood before the steps of my family’s crypt, frozen in place by emotions so strong I could barely draw breath. I studied the carved letters… and I could step no closer. Months of mourning had clarified my feelings, and now, I knew what I wished to say and think and do. What had I felt this year and a half since she had come into my life? It would be impossible to catalog the tumultuous whirlwind that had been my sentiments. Each moment had been so changeable, and each day I had treaded upon glass, but no more. Now, I knew my own mind, I unclenched my teeth and the words that had simmered so long in my heart tumbled forth.

“They say it is wrong to speak ill of the dead. But I will speak—I will! I am finished with the pretty falsehoods of polite manners. All those things I longed to say to you in life, but never dared, for the sake of my precious reputation—would you have listened, my wife? But now, you shall hear, for the truth is… I hated you. Oh, how I hated you! Even in death, I hate you still. If not for the scandal, you would not grace the hallowed crypt of my ancestors, for you are unworthy to share an eternal resting place beside them.”

The cold stone yielded no response.

“I was a good man once. I was honourable, the pride of my family, and no shadow ever besmirched my character. I shall never be so innocent again, and I lay the fault for that at your feet. I curse the day I ever laid eyes upon you!” I nearly shouted. “You, with your second-rate arts and allurements, your studied charm, and the way you teased—as if a bit of whimsy and flirtation were sufficient to secure me! Ah, but they were, were they not? You and your abominable family saw to that.

“Your family!” I felt like roaring, thundering against the dead and beating that stone slab with my fists… but instead I lowered my tones to a contemptuous snarl. “Their behavior, connections, interests… yes interests… all deplorable. And I, the scion of Pemberley, was forced to align—no, degrade myself—to you and to them through a marriage not of my making! Your mother’s machinations were your undoing and I glory in the fact that you are now paying for your misdeeds. She should be proud that her matchmaking skills—nay, let us call them what they were—compromising tactics, were so successful. I feel no shame in saying that everything about you disgusted me. I despised your voice, the colour of your hair, that twisted smile and even your very name!

“Worse, I loathed the gossips hinting at a compromise and the rumors of an increasing bride that necessitated a hasty nuptial. As if you could have tempted me! Yet, half the matrons of the ton were counting on their fingers in anticipation of the blessed event. Who was the father, my unfaithful bride? Whoever he was, he was more clever than I, to sully your bower and yet escape the noose. You were nothing to him but a light-skirt… an easy conquest. A whore, my wife. How dare you come to me unchaste!

“My one satisfaction is that the babe could never have been mine. My hands are clean, and your bastard will never bear my name. And I?” I brushed off my sleeve and turned away. “I am finally free, and I shall be happy without you, Elizabeth Darcy.”

~

One Week Later

“Darcy! I had not looked for you for another month yet. What the devil brought you from Pemberley so early?”

Charles Bingley rose from his chair, hand outstretched to grasp mine. “Egad, but it is good to see you! How long are you in Town this time?”

I could not be easy until the footman had closed the door. Bingley’s house was one of the few places where I might be free to speak without fear of some reprisal, but only when his sisters could not hear. After that reassuring click, my shoulders dropped and I could finally fill my chest with air. “For good, Bingley. At least long enough to put these last months behind me. I’ve no plans to return north again for some time.”

Bingley’s ruddy brows rose, and he poured us each a drink from his decanter. “Yes, I should think. You have finished mourning, now, have you not? You will be seeking a new mistress for the house, I presume.”

“For my house or for my bed, I care not which,” I grumbled, and drained the brandy as if it had been water. It might as well have been.

Bingley’s polite smile became something of a grimace. “I do not believe I have ever heard you speak so, Darcy.”

“And so I never have, but you see before you a changed man. I shan’t be pressed into marriage again at the whim of any other, and certainly not for the begetting of an heir. I’ve time enough for that. What I want is good company, a bit of feminine cheer, and to seek my own pleasure for once in my life. Be that with lady or madam, I shall do precisely as I wish, and devil take the hindmost.”

A low whistle sounded upon Bingley’s lips. “Well… I say… ahem, I had counted on your advice regarding the estate I am leasing. You did receive my letter, I presume? But I suppose with such a resolve, you would rather remain in London.”

“I had your letter the day before I left. Hertfordshire, is it? You do rush into things in a dreadful, headlong manner, Bingley. Have you even viewed the property yet?”

“Yes, I spent a day looking about the area. A capital situation, Darcy! It is just what I want—a quiet neighbourhood, a house with a bit of fashion about it, and the perfect setting for my plans.”

I swirled the last drops round the bottom of my glass. Hardly any colour either. “You still hope to breed hunters?”

Bingley lifted his shoulders in a show of bashful self-deprecation. “I always have, you know. No money in it, I understand, but what care I for that? And a man cannot do without land, of course, so at last I shall have everything I need. You said I might buy a few of your mares. Also, I was very much counting on your advice, if you can spare it.”

I grunted, somewhat obligingly. Bingley’s humble request was as good as a challenge to my honour, whether or not he knew it. “When do you take up residence at this luxurious palace of yours?”

Bingley fairly beamed. “I leave in two days. I planned to ride ahead of the carriage. Oh, do come, Darcy. Why, the half-day’s ride in fresh air alone will do wonders for you! You will come, will you not?”

“I may as well, but why so soon? How can it even be ready?”

“Oh, as to that, the house came with trained servants, and they are making the preparations as we speak. I wish to be settled before Michelmas, while the weather is still fine. I understand the shooting is spectacular! I believe this will be the first season I have not come to Pemb—” Bingley broke off, clearing his throat, and quickly refilled both our glasses.

“The past is done,” I insisted, perhaps a little too loudly because Bingley flinched. I lowered my voice. “I intend to cleanse my life of the stench of that woman. It will be as if she never was!”

“Of course, Darcy, of course!” Bingley fingered his glass nervously. “Colchester is hosting a party tomorrow evening. All the finest debutantes, as well as some of our old mates. I told him I would attend… I am sure he would welcome you, if he knew you were in Town.”

“I was invited.”

“Brilliant! Then you will come? There are sure to be any number of ladies worthy of your attention. Perhaps….”

“I might begin my search for amusement on the more respectable side of town?”

“Well,” Bingley grinned sheepishly, “I thought perhaps you might want to start slowly, you know.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Caution is warranted, naturally. As I recall too well.”

~

I stood against the wall, trying to avoid the temptation to admire the draperies. Bingley had immediately offered his arm to one lady after another—most of whom looked beyond him towards myself, the highly eligible widower. Calculating, disingenuous, mercenary trollops….

I made a noise in my throat. I had been a fool to think I might find what I sought in the drawing rooms of London. Here, I was assured of nothing but the very thing I despised. Elizabeth had been my equal, had she not? And her family knew precisely what they were about, grooming her to be thrown directly into my path.

I gagged faintly as a lady passed by wearing a similar fragrance to my late wife. Why, even the mere thought of her name made my brow cold and my stomach turn. No! Every female with family and standing only desired one thing from me, and I would never fall prey to such again. What I wanted was a simple woman, one who understood that her place in my life was retained at my pleasure, and would therefore take pains to secure it.

From behind the wall echoed the irregular clinking of billiards. As always, the gentlemen too intoxicated or too married to join the ladies on the dance floor had retreated to that masculine refuge. I glanced over my shoulder, considering, as Bingley twirled by in the quadrille, clasping hands with a stunning, lively brunette. Both looked my way; Bingley with open delight, and the lady—a Miss Charlotte Bevan, if I recalled correctly—with lowered lashes and a curve to her lips.

That cemented my decision, and I slipped from the room. Women, the whole blasted lot of them, could wait one more day. A footman opened the door and a wave of cigar smoke and male laughter washed over me like the enveloping darkness of a sanctuary. I stiffened my spine and strode into the room as if I were the master of it—and, indeed, I was in a way, for most of these men looked to me as their superior in status, or fencing, or wealth, or some other matter of consequence. Colchester himself was leaning over the table with a smouldering Havana clenched between his teeth. Beside him stood Ramsey and Carlisle, both old school fellows I had not expected to encounter this evening. I frowned, but said nothing. Carlisle nursed a drink, while Ramsey twirled a cue and held forth with idle gossip.

“…they say Winslow is strung. Can’t stay away from the gaming hells, I hear. His estate is….” Ramsey fell silent then and nudged Carlisle with his elbow.

Colchester missed his shot and glanced up to learn why the temperature of the room had seemed to shift. The master of the house straightened then and lifted the cigar from his mouth. “Darcy! I had not expected you to really come. Welcome, old friend!”

“Thank you, Colchester.” I nodded to the men I knew as my eyes scanned the room… and then stopped dead. “Benedict,” I breathed, the hair standing on the back of my neck. “How dare you show your face here?”

The other scoffed. “I ought to ask the same of you, Darcy. It is I who bear the grievance, not yourself, but—” he sighed, smiled tightly, and offered a formal bow—“I would never embarrass my host in his own home.”

“You speak of grievances?” I stalked towards him. “As if the contrivances leading to your family’s ruin were not of your own making? As if there were any honour worth defending in that wretched string of syllables you call your family name?”

“Here, now!” Colchester interrupted. “Darcy, have a drink. Let us put this unpleasantness aside.”

“Indeed, Darcy.” Benedict straightened his inseams and squared his shoulders with a jerk. “Fancy that! A man walks into a friendly game and practically throws down a challenge, with no provocation whatsoever!” He gestured roundly to his fellows, drawing a few knowing smirks. “Ought you not to be still haunting your own bloody house, rather than casting your gloom all about London? If I did not know better, I would think you did not sincerely mourn your late wife. Damned indecent, man.”

“Indecent?” I hissed. I ought to have turned away, preserved my dignity, but I had enough—nay, a good deal too much. “Mourn a whore and a parasite?”

Benedict’s complexion drained to a pasty white. “That is my sister whose honour you defame, sir! Would you disgrace the dead so?”

“I speak only the truth. Her disgrace was her own.” I shot a hard glance over Ramsey and Carlisle. “Honour? Such a virtue ought never be pronounced in the same breath as her name!”

“Darcy, Darcy…” A hand clapped on my shoulder.
“Keep out of this, Ramsey,” I growled. “My business is not with you.”

“Come on, old fellow, let bygones be bygones, shall we?” Ramsey urged.

“I wonder at you, Ramsey. And you, Colchester! Know you what deceitful filth you have invited into your home?”

“Come, Darcy, you speak as if he is a farmer or a tradesman!” Carlisle laughed.

My lip curled. “Farmers and tradesmen come by their earnings justly.”

“Enough!” Benedict thundered. He rushed to stand before me, his frame quivering with rage. “I know too much about you!”

I could not restrain a snort. “He who digs in the dirt often finds himself covered with it.”

“Blackguard! Tomorrow at dawn. Let us settle the matter!”

“Darcy!” Colchester protested, coming to stand between us. “Benedict, be reasonable, man!”

I paused—not in uncertainty but contempt. I stared back at Benedict before offering my reply and took perverse pleasure in the anxiety and confusion growing on his sallow face. Benedict was panting, his eyes dilated and nostrils flared like some over-wrought ewe. Still, I kept silent. After a full minute, a few uncomfortable chuckles arose from the lookers-on.

“Do be serious, Benedict,” I retorted at last, my voice dripping condescension. “We both know you cannot hit a stile at ten paces.”

“I will have satisfaction, Darcy!”

“I will as well. The satisfaction of witnessing your failure, and the satisfaction of a better life than I was sentenced to, shackled to Elizabeth Benedict.”

A throat cleared, and I glanced over my shoulder. Bingley had just entered the room and looked as if he were trying to pretend he had not heard the slurry of insults. “Ah, Darcy, if you do not mind, I should like to make an early start for Hertfordshire tomorrow. Shall we?”

I smiled, an expression that caused even Colchester to stiffen in apprehension. “Indeed.”

Read Chapter TWO HERE

Well, there you have it! I’ll have more up in a fortnight, or perhaps less if the Muse smiles upon me. 😉

Don’t forget to comment on this post as well as the preview of my other WIP for a chance to win an ebook or paperback (US only for paperbacks). Drawing will be on 1/21!