Jump to new as of September 16, 2004
Prologue
Posted on Monday, 30 August 2004
Two years ago he had been inculpable.
Two months ago happiness had filled his being.
Two weeks ago Elizabeth had been in love with him.
Two days ago he had believed in God.
Two hours ago he wasn’t a murderer.
And he refused to apologize for any of it.
Fitzwilliam Darcy stood in the rain as he was prone to do when thoughts of her consumed him. He lifted his head toward the heavens and inhaled the scent of spring…her favorite season.
“Elizabeth,” he whispered, saying her name aloud for the first time since it had happened. It being the unfortunate act…the cause that washed in pity from well-wishers like a tidal wave. The five minutes that shattered his entire life.
He had allowed himself the distinct pleasure of being fully and shamelessly in love. For the first time in memory he had opened himself to the possibility of being vulnerable, and it was an act that he would never regret.
There had been a time in his life when he hadn’t even believed in the ability of being in love. There were only mindsets and fickle emotions that weak people deluded themselves into deeming as ‘true love’. It was an outlook that was determined when he saw his esteemed father fall into a shadow of the man that he was not even a day after Ann Darcy’s passing.
William had never forgiven his father for disregarding the needs of himself and his sister so that he could wallow in memories and alcohol, reflecting on the wife that had left him behind. George Darcy had abandoned all responsibilities in the name of lost love, leaving his two-year-old daughter and multi-corporation business in the hands of his son, who had yet to finish college.
George, at one time, had been a strong man. He was held in high regard in the eyes of his business counterparts, as well as members of the community. William had idolized his father, and to have his mentor fall so harshly off of the pedestal on which he had been placed…It was distressing, to say the least.
After witnessing firsthand what dependence upon another individual would gain you, William had pledged that he would never allow himself the opportunity to become desolated by the act of another. He would remain unattached, because when you’re alone, no one has the opportunity to hurt you.
But if you exile yourself, you also have no chance for true happiness. She had taught him that.
When Charles had forced him to the country he had been positively furious at the prospect of lowlife ‘hicks’ and farm animals; but in the midst of his sulking there she was. Elizabeth Bennet, the woman who overtook his sensible, harsh mind.
It had happened so suddenly that he was completely lost before he knew that it had begun. All he knew was that she was the best person that he had ever known…and at one time she had been his.
He clenched his fist in memory; she was his until she had been taken from him. Even in the midst of his fury, he was able to nearly smile though. If she were here now she would give him that teasing grin and inform him that she didn’t like the idea of being anyone’s possession.
His eyes slid shut and he imagined that she was standing in front of him.
“You are my Lizzy,” he said aloud.
‘I am not sure if I remember agreeing to that,’ his imagination responded.
“Then I’ll just have to convince you.”
The wind whistled in response.
William unfolded his hands, blood still stained them. He watched in detached fascination as the rain washed the blood away, but failed to cleanse him.
Chapter One, Two years earlier
Posted on Wednesday, 1 September 2004
The sun stretched over the horizon as the man in the passenger’s seat stirred. He observed his surroundings with obvious discomfort. He cleared his throat, and turned to the man driving.
“My apologies, Charles, I did not expect to be as discourteous to sleep while you drove.”
“No worries, Will. I must confess though, in the past few hours my thirst for adventure has awoken.”
William stared at his friend dully. “Your…thirst? Please tell me that you have followed the map.”
Receiving a sheepish smile in response, William inelegantly thrust himself back into the seat. “That is just brilliant, Charles. I leave you to yourself for two minutes and we are now lost.”
Charles merely grinned.
Sensing that he was being left in the dark, William settled for scrutinizing the passing objects out the window. He saw a cow. And corn.
“I wasn’t aware,” he began slowly, “that they grew corn in Malibu.”
“We are not in Malibu, obviously. You were not asleep that long, have you no idea how long it takes to drive from New York to California?”
“Apparently not. I, like any sane person, have always flown.”
“Besides,” Charles continued, “I assumed that you had already surmised that we had a change of plans.”
“You had a change of plans,” William corrected. “Mine are on course, I am vacationing in Malibu for precisely three weeks time. I shall not spend my first vacation in four years in Wisconsin, or wherever it is that you have decided is more attractive than California.”
“We are actually in Ohio, not Wisconsin.”
“It is all the same, Charles. If you would please locate the nearest airport, I will leave you, and your thirst, to have as much time down on the farm as you please.”
“C’mon, Will, how many times have you been to the beach?”
Before he could even contemplate the question, Charles answered for him. “Tons. How many times have you been in the actual country?”
“I own a house in the country, if I had any desire to experience that life, I would live there.”
Charles waved a flippant hand. “You house does not count, for it is in England. You have never stayed in a small American town, and I believe that it will be an excellent vacation.”
After attempting to find a map, and finding that Charles had thrown them all out, William settled for a mixture between sulking and whining. “Where shall we stay, Charles? We have no reservations; neither of us knows anyone in…” he nearly choked on the word, “Ohio.”
“Exactly. We have no where to stay, for once every detail of the trip is not marked out…is that not the most exciting thing?”
“Oh, yes,” William commented sardonically, “it is positively riveting. Do you even know what road we are on?”
“Of course I do.”
“Do you know where it leads?”
“Nope,” Charles said cheekily. “But I have seen several signs for a Pleasantville…that sounds like a pleasurable place to stay, does it not?”
As Charles laughed at his joke, William sighed loudly.
They rode in silence, until Charles took notice that there were only five exciting miles left until they reached Pleasantville. “We are nearly there…”
“Peachy.” William attempted to stretch out in the confined seating area as he took a stack of papers out of his briefcase. Harry Metler, owner of Austonic, a popular chain of clothing stores, was in grave financial difficulty. If he could find a way to act on this now, Austonic would belong to Darcy Enterprises by years end.
He pulled out his cell phone, preparing to contact his Vice-President, Edwards, about the latest developments in the Metler situation. Flipping open the phone, he made a rather crucial discovery: he had no service.
“Charles, I have no coverage in this area.”
“And?”
“And I was unaware that there were places left in America without cell phone coverage.”
To that, Charles rolled his window down and took a deep breath. “Smell the country air, is it not magnificent?”
The only odor that William could differentiate was that of manure.
“Say, Darce, what do you suppose that is over there?”
“Trees.”
“No, to the left of the trees, there are a lot of cars over there…”
“How interesting,” William said dryly.
“Let’s go over there.”
William did not want to follow the trail of cars. However, being that he was not the one in possession of the steering wheel, he held little control over his fate.
Charles parked in the middle of, what appeared to be, an empty field. They walked through the rows of vehicles—most of which, William noticed, were large trucks—and towards the sounds of a gathered crowd.
Gazing with wonder at the stretch of dirt between the people, Charles nearly sprinted towards the action. William reluctantly upped his speed as to not lose his friend.
When Charles suddenly halted to a stop, William looked over to the far end of the track and saw a…tractor. Of all the things he expected to see, a tractor was not one of them. They now appeared to be running the tractor down the dirt path, while the people cheered.
As Charles excitedly talked about what a remarkable thing this was to stumble upon, William was muttering, “How utterly pointless.”
Within five minutes he had lost track of Charles completely, and still had no clue as to what was going on. He sighed and habitually took out his cell phone, but quickly remembered that he had been thrust into a land of desolate times and barbaric natures.
Stuck wishing that he had brought his briefcase out with him, William settled for standing with his arms crossed in front of his chest. He was perfectly content with his current solitude, and when his actions were interrupted by a short brunette, he felt far from amiable.
“I may be taking a leap, but I am going to say that you do not live near here.”
“I bow to your skills of deduction,” he responded.
She observed him as one would a creature in the local zoo. “Given your slight accent, I will farther my guess to decide that you are from New York.”
“And there are those with no faith in the public school system. I shall solicit you to be the figurehead for communal education if I ever desire to run for public office. If you will excuse me, I must search for my companion.”
William took quick strides thru the crowd until discovering the sight of Charles conversing with a blonde.
“Ah, Darcy, there you are. May I introduce you to Jane Bennet? Jane, this is William Darcy, the man that I was telling you about.”
She smiled widely, “Pleased to meet you, William.”
“Miss Bennet.”
Her smile faltered briefly at his cold formality. However, she quickly recovered. “Would you like something to drink? My family brought a cooler with us.”
“No thank you.”
“Charles?”
“I would love some water, Jane.”
She nodded and walked off towards a red tent.
Charles sighed and turned to his friend. “Is she not truly charming?”
“I have never encountered a creature more so,” William said, his voice laced with sarcasm.
“Her family has lived here for five generations, you know. And that,” he pointed to the girl that William had escaped minutes previously, “is her sister, Elizabeth. You should speak to her; Jane tells me that her sister reads constantly, the two of you would get on splendidly.”
“I hardly need you to set me up with some country bumpkin, Charles. I am sure that her novel of choice is that of any title which reveals Fabio on the cover.”
As Jane returned, William noticed that her sister had appeared beside her. Charles and Jane quickly became engaged in conversation, leaving William once more to be openly studied by Elizabeth.
“I must thank you,” she began lightly, “for enlightening me. You see, I was under the misapprehension that Fabio was not on the cover of War and Peace, apparently I was wrong. So, it seems as though I have been reading the wrong novel, how incredibly silly of me…”
“Eavesdropping is an unappealing characteristic, Miss Bennet.”
“As is condemnation. You shall have to excuse me though, for I am but a simple country bumpkin, my manners are far from being on par with yours. However, I must confess, this is not something that altogether disheartens me.”
He raised an eyebrow at her before extending his arm. “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
She slowly shook his hand. “Your mother must have disliked you.”
“Fitzwilliam is a perfectly respectable family name, Elizabeth.”
“It’s Miss Bennet, actually. Extreme informalities frighten me.”
“Indeed,” William replied, his estimation of her falling.
“William,” Charles interrupted, “Jane has invited us to dine with them this evening at their home. Is that not most generous of her?”
“Jane truly is a saint among men, it would seem.”
“Yes,” Charles agreed immediately, taking no notice to his friend’s mocking tone, “she might be.”
Jane blushed under Charles’ stare before looking up to William. “I do hope that you will agree to join us.”
“I have little choice in the matter, Miss Bennet.”
“Yes,” Elizabeth echoed, “Mr. Darcy apparently lives for the wellbeing and happiness of those around him. His manners alone show that very clearly, and I, for one, anticipate the furthering of these attributes at dinner.”
“My kindness and etiquette pale in the presence of yours, Miss Bennet.”
Jane appeared to be growing uncomfortable. “Elizabeth and I should go home so that we may help prepare the meal. We will see you both at six then?”
“We wouldn’t miss it, Jane,” Charles said immediately.
After the sisters were far out of earshot, William spoke once more to Charles, “What is all of this, anyway?”
“The tractors? Jane informed me that this is a tractor pull…apparently, it is a popular sport in this area.”
“They consider running tractors down a dirt track to be a sport?”
“Fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is a wonder why the Olympic Committee has yet to bring it to the games.”
“You seemed to be held in conversation by Elizabeth—“
“Hardly,” William nearly snorted. “Finding stimulating conversation here would be a scientific breakthrough, Charles.”
“Hmm. Oh, I nearly forgot, Jane informed me that there is a hotel in town; a Netherfield Inn, it would seem.”
“Yes, and I am sure that it equivalents, if not surpasses, the five-star reservations that we held in Malibu.”
“You never know, Will. Jane said that it was quite lovely.”
William tilted his head skyward, contemplating what he had done to come across a vacation such as this.
As stated, Pleasantville is not an actual town. The name was a mixture of my two sources for the fictional town, Point Pleasant and Circleville. Has nothing to do with the movie, Pleasantville.
Chapter Two, Part One
Posted on Wednesday, 15 September 2004
Dinner was sure to be a ghastly affair; for when one walks into an event with exceedingly low expectations, it is not often that they are changed in their mindset.
Or, so William contemplated as he sat next to Elizabeth. It was rare indeed for him to admit—even in his private thoughts—that he underestimated a situation; nevertheless, he found that he was almost…enjoying himself.
He had stumbled across Elizabeth in his search of the restroom (his only hope being that they believed in the art of modern plumbing) and had been in conversation with her ever since.
Elizabeth, it would seem, was not the simpleton that he had mistaken her for. Granted, she was far from what he would consider academically gifted, and she had not the beauty of her eldest sibling…but in her biting vocal comments he could find little fault.
“Tell me, Miss Bennet,” William said, “what is your occupation?”
“My occupation?” she repeated. “And how are you so sure that I am not currently in school, and therefore have no employment to speak of?”
“A scholar is an occupation, Elizabeth. Therefore, I was inferring nothing of the sort. It was you, not I, who may be held guilty of jumping to conclusions.”
She colored slightly. “A hit, a hit I must confess. However, I do not recall granting permission for use of my given name; thus, it would seem that you as well are to be held accountable for conclusion leaping.”
William raised an eyebrow in response. “Touché, Miss Bennet. Nevertheless, I must still bring to light the fact that you are avoiding my question.”
“Was I? My apologies, Mr. Darcy, I shall answer your question posthaste.”
It became quite obvious that she held no intentions of answering when she allowed several moments of silence to ensue. “Perhaps, Miss Bennet,” he said with slight frustration, “you should be enlightened of the definition of posthaste.”
“I think you’ll find that here in the country our classification of hastening varies from your own.”
“And what precisely does that mean?”
“It means that I shall answer your question, just not at this particular moment. If you will excuse me, I believe that my mother could do with my help in the kitchen.”
He nodded and allowed her to stand and take leave.
“Miss Bennet?” he called to her retreating form.
She turned, “Yes?”
“Could you please direct me to the restroom?”
She appeared pensive for a moment before smiling slowly. “Of course, Mr. Darcy; go down that hallway and it will be the first door on your left.”
Without another word, William left, once more in search of the bathroom. Following her instructions, he opened the first door on the left and discovered the most unusual restroom that he had ever encountered.
It was pink and frilly and contained two teenage girls, two beds, and no evidence of a lavatory.
“Forgive me,” he said to their startled expressions, “I seem to have opened the wrong door.” He made an attempt to back out of the room gracefully, but the blonde girl bounded off the bed before he had the chance.
She tugged his arm as to force him farther into the room. “I’m Lydia, and you have definitely opened the right door. Tell me everything about yourself: What is your name? Are you from here?—dear God I hope not…and, most importantly, are you single?”
“William, no, and yes.”
The brunette on the other bed seemed perplexed. “What was the second question, Lydia?”
Lydia rolled her eyes skyward and shoved her thumb in the general direction of the girl. “That’s Kitty, it takes her a while to catch on to anything.”
“It’s Katherine, or Katy,” the girl responded defensively, “and I am not slow.”
“Of course you’re not, dear,” Lydia smiled condescendingly, “you are just as smart as everyone else. Riding the short bus in nothing to be ashamed of.”
“I have never rode the short bus,” Katy scowled.
Lydia conspiratorially leaned over and said in a loud whisper, “She was held back a year in school.”
Katy leapt off the bed and promptly launched herself at Lydia. William watched with wide eyes as the girls rolled around the floor, one screaming ‘That was in the first grade!’ the other loudly protesting, ‘Embrace your mental inefficiencies, Kitty.’
The brunette pulled herself up from the floor, still quite indignant. “You do not even know what ‘inefficiencies’ means, Lid.”
“I do too.”
“Do not.”
“Do too!”
“Do not!”
“Do too!
“Do not!”
“Do not!”
“Do to—I hate you.”
Lydia smiled triumphantly before kissing her sister sloppily on the cheek, to which the girl hastily wiped her face in the offended spot. “You love me, Kitty darling.”
“Whatever,” Katy mumbled. “And don’t call me Kitty.”
William was literally frozen in place. He had never before seen such behavior from siblings. The very thought of he and Georgiana doing anything similar to this display was disturbing, to say the least.
“Excuse me,” he said lowly, before retreating from the room as quickly as possible.
It seemed as though he had been mistaken in giving Elizabeth Bennet the benefit of a doubt.
William made his way back through the house, hunting the kitchen to find the devious Miss Bennet. He slowed, however, when he neared the room desired.
“…For the last time, Mother, drop it.”
He nearly smirked, that was Elizabeth’s voice.
A shrill voice responded to Elizabeth’s smooth one. “All I’m saying, Lizzy, is that Derrick likes you. He is handsome, well off, and—”
“Married,” Elizabeth interrupted.
“Obviously not happily,” the woman said pointedly.
“Mother, if you try to fix me up with one more man I swear I shall scream!”
William chose this moment to walk into the kitchen. She attempted to sic her younger, slightly insane, sisters on him…no one crossed Fitzwilliam Darcy without facing the consequences.
Ignoring all others in the room, William walked up behind Elizabeth and placed a light kiss on her exposed shoulder. “Hello, love,” he greeted.
She whipped her head around and raised her hand in the air to smack him—but her mother prevented her from doing so.
“Lizzy! Who is this?”
“No one worth mentioning,” Elizabeth said with a glare.
William raised an eyebrow at her before kissing her soundly on the cheek for show. “You are such the kidder, darling.” He turned to the apparent Mrs. Bennet, “I am Fitzwilliam Darcy.”
“A boyfriend, Lizzy? Oh, and he is so handsome, much more so than that vile Derrick Reynolds.”
He watched in satisfaction as Elizabeth blushed hotly and mumbled, “He is not my boyfriend.”
Her mother, however, had very selective hearing. “Dear me, I must call your Aunt at once…I just knew that you weren’t a lesbian as she said!”
“Mother!” Elizabeth said sharply, “Just because I chose not to date, that does not make me a lesbian.”
She groaned in frustration as her mother picked up the cordless phone. Sensing that she was not going to accomplish anything, she settled for dragging William out into the hallway.
“You have a lot of nerve, you know, just strutting in there and thinking that you can ruin my life!”
“I hardly think that I have ruined your life, Miss Bennet. Consider it reimbursement for your generous directions to the restroom.”
“She’ll never leave me alone now!” Elizabeth continued, “I mean, it was bad before, but she will be unlivable now. Everyday I’ll hear ‘Where is that boyfriend of yours, Lizzy? Has he left you so soon? Let Mama teach you how to keep a man…’ I just—”
Elizabeth had apparently ran out of things to say, and settled for simply slapping William across the face.
He held his cheek in momentary shock. “That was wholly uncalled for, Miss Bennet.”
“I do not agree. In fact, you’re lucky that I don’t do it again.”
“Tell me, do you always go around mauling your guests?”
She shoved her index finger in his chest, “You are not my guest. You are the friend of Jane’s guest.”
“What a lovely title. Would it be possible for you to refer to me as nothing besides ‘friend of Jane’s guest’ for the remainder of my stay? I find it very intimate.”
“Stay. Away. From. Me.” She stated in a low, threatening tone.
“That is rather difficult, you see, as we are currently occupying the same hallway.”
He noticed her clench her small fist before turning on her heel and stalking out of the room. He smiled once she was out of sight; this was entirely too much fun.
With a peaked interest, William wandered around the house, it seemed as though he would have to find the bathroom himself.