*-Of course I do not own any of these characters
*-Please review. The original text from the novel is italicized.
“Bloody hell” Fitzwilliam Darcy opened his eyes, no matter what manner he tried, sleep remained elusive.
He wandered through the halls of Pemberley, until he reached the portrait gallery. It was a mere hallway, but it had been chosen to hold the portraits of Darcy family going back for nearly 200 years.
The most recent portraits were his parents wedding portrait 30 years ago and himself and Georgiana painted a dozen years ago. With every new generation, older paintings had been moved further down, making space for the next generation of Darcy’s.
Fitzwilliam had hoped to add his own family to this wall. The only issue was that the women he so desperately wished to join him on that portrait had blatantly refused him.
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way, than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”
She saw him start at this, but he said nothing, and she continued,
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Again his astonishment was obvious; and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on.
“From the very beginning, from the first moment I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that ground-work of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immoveable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”
Those words had haunted him. He had tried to remind himself how unwise a match with Elizabeth Bennet was. Her family was wholly unconnected in addition to lacking any sort of decorum. It was not for him that he tried to convince himself that she was unsuitable; it was for Georgiana as well.
She was not out in society yet, but she would be in the next few years. If and when he had married by then, his sister’s chances at a good match were as much hinged on her character as his and by extension, his wife and children.
He could do better for a wife, and he could do worse. Caroline Bingley, if he was of a mind to be persuaded, would be a suitable wife. Her rank and wealth would be approved in the eyes of his peers, but to wake up with her everyday, it sent a chill down his spine.
Of course, his aunt would be more than pleased if he and Anne would ever marry. But again, to wake up next to Anne, that would be worse than Caroline Bingley. She was amiable enough, but too amiable.
He needed a wife who would excite him, in and out of the bedroom, who would make him feel like every day was their honeymoon.
That night they danced at Netherfield, he could feel her fine eyes burning into him. If they were not in a crowded ballroom and propriety demanded control, he would kissed her until their lips were bruised and swollen, until she truly knew how much he loved her.
But fate and his foolish pride had chosen otherwise. She loathed him and would likely end up married to another man. His punishment was appropriate, he hoped he might be one day back in her good graces, but if he was unable to, Elizabeth Bennet would always reside in his heart.