In the Middle Before Beginning

Authors Note:

Hey there! It has been quite a while since I posted anything - so let me just say I haven't abandoned this story, and I'm really grateful for all the reviews and feedback, as well as the encouragement to add more. I have been working on writing this story, my other fanfic (Altering Perceptions) as well as my own original novels (yep I've got a couple of novels in progress - nope I'm not yet up to publishing them).

I've been hesistant to post any more to this story though. My struggle has been in maintaining the same voice and mood that this story started with - especially when writing other stories that have their own feel.

In addition to this, I have a new P&P fanfic idea, that I'm super excited to work on - but all in good time.

I've decided to take down all but the first chapter of In the Middle Before Beginning, as I have a changed vision for it. A recent re-watch of 1995 BBC series gave me some considerations for what this story should lead to, so some adjustments will need to be made to what was previously posted. I plan to write the story in full before I begin reposting again - I am hoping to accomplish this from July 2020 (if I can stick to my schedule).

Any way, that's the new update. Thanks again for reading and for patience.

Chapter 1 - The Day after the Disaster of a Proposal

Elizabeth enjoyed long walks through the grounds of Rosings, not just for the beauty of the park but because it gave her time away from Mr Collins. As happy as she was visiting his wife, she most likely wouldn't have stayed so long in Kent if there wasn't this convenient means of escaping her foolish cousin.

On this particular morning, her walk was mostly a way to relieve the pent up emotions from the day before.

Mr Darcy had proposed. This was the man who had ignored her or criticized and baited her during the whole time they had known each other.

His offer had been unexpected, but it was the way he'd gone about requesting her hand that had been so vexing. The gentleman had chosen to be completely earnest in his offer, blatantly pointing out her inferiority as though it demonstrated the depth of his regard, and then he had the audacity to accuse her of being impolite in her refusal.

Elizabeth tore her bonnet off and fanned herself with the stiff brim. Just remembering that scene made her as outraged as she had felt at the time, and she had set out from the parsonage with the plan to calm down. There had been so much said by both of them that couldn't be unsaid now, there was no use being upset about it any longer than she had been.

If the Almighty had a sense of humour - it was alive that morning, because almost immediately after Elizabeth had finished thanking Him for the fact that she would never have to face Mr Darcy again, she happened to round a tree and see that gentleman in all his great-coat-ed-top-hat-ed glory.

Her stomach twirled as she recognised three realities - firstly how awkward it would be to meet after yesterday's disastrous encounter, secondly that as he had proposed, he had spoken, rather concisely, of loving her, and thirdly of the fineness of his physique and handsomeness of his features - even with his scowling brow.

She considered turning and bolting - she was a fast runner, but it was too late. Before she even moved - he saw her and, calling her name, moved before her.

"I had hoped to find you walking this morning," he began, in a cold and careful manner. "Would you do me the honour of reading this letter?"

He thrust the folded paper into the space between them as though he expected her to just take it without question. His certainty bothered her into stubbornly keeping her hands by her side. As with the evening before, he had made a request with too much security and not enough trepidation - she wouldn't give him the satisfaction.

Glaring up at him, she questioned, "Why? What have you written that has not already been said?"

He flinched slightly when her response was not how he anticipated (again! Would he ever understand her? How had he been so wrong?) but he did not let the formal mask drop. Lowering his extended arm, he felt embarrassed that even now he cared for her. That her refusal made her even more desirable and this provoked him to maintain his distance.

"What do you hope to achieve by this sir? Just explain that to me first," demanded Elizabeth when he did not reply.

"I have written that." He indicated the letter again but she did not take it.

"That's hardly a fair response. Give me some indication before I read your words then, so that I might have some expectation of what I am accepting."

"If you think that this is another attempt to express my... " The mortification lit his temper, but he stamped out the flame. If this was to be the last time they spoke, he wanted to behave in a 'gentleman-like manner'. "Despite my feelings for you, I have no intention of tricking or persuading... "

"No, I would not accuse you of such maneuvers," she interjected quickly, also embarrassed at the mention of such feelings, though some small part of her was secretly pleased by them. Perhaps, that part whispered in Charlotte's voice, he loves you too much to hate you, even when you are so mean to him.

As dispassionately as he could, he continued, "You have made some severe charges against me - I only ask for the opportunity to better explain myself."

"Then by all means Mr Darcy, explain yourself."

They were standing close enough that he could see the lively glint in her eyes - once he had thought this was a flirtatious spark, but now he knew better. The night before, in the face of her rejection he had felt every change of emotion possible - from surprise to resentment, from anger to guilt, but then quickly on to disbelief, to outrage and insult and finally concluding on resignation. Even on returning to Rosings and calmly determining to conclude their acquaintance better, he had not let himself feel what flooded him now - heartbreak.

Wretchedness, despair, unwanted and unreturned - give it any name, the feeling of all was misery. He had spoken of struggle and torment, but hadn't really ever felt it before now. He loved her so, he wanted nothing in the world but her - and she despised him. He could not remain in her presence much longer, to be filled with such longing and refused any fulfillment, he could be crushed under the weight of it.

"I believe that the explanation had better be delivered in this form," once again he offered the letter, "With it, I am sure my meaning will be clearer than if I were to remain and speak the words."

Elizabeth hesitated, there was a pleading uncertainty in his last line that was so different from his manner only moments before. She studied him carefully and found evidence on his face of a lack of sleep and in his clothes, a rushed effort to dress. She wondered how long he had spent on the letter, and how far he had wandered the grounds in hope of finding her. Evidently there was in him a determination to communicate.

"And how I am to know your meaning properly if I cannot hear your voice express it, and if I cannot question and dispute your case." She accepted the letter then, but held it up between them before he could walk away. "And if I don't read it? If I burn it as it is?"

"Do what you will, it is yours now."

He turned and she would not let them part so. This could not be the last time between them - there was no satisfaction to it for either of them. She called out, meaning to offend and provoke him to return, "so easily you abandon your purpose, I should think if it were at all important to you, you would watch over me as I read. As such, I suppose that your motivation must be as limited as your regard."

He quickly turned and was before her.

"Do not doubt my regard for you Elizabeth. Hate me and insult me if you must," His presence was like a strong wind pulling her where it wanted. With one hand he took hold of hers that held the letter and brought it up, drawing her toward him, "refuse my attempts to justify my actions and choices, continue to intentionally misunderstand my character, but do not presume so little of my love."

His features were arranged so strikingly, filled with such passion that she had not seen before, as he defended his infatuation, her heart pounded. With his eyes bearing so emotionally down on her, her mind and heart were captivated with the excitement of being so loved.

"I may have expressed it poorly, I have little experience in confessing of my affections, or indeed feeling them. But I know the depth of my love for you, built on my admiration of your character, your intelligence and your beauty - it is not fleeting or fanciful, it will torture me always, unrequited and unavoidable. I shall never be as happy as what I had dreamed I might have been with you. So find me undeserving of your affections if you choose but know forever there will be no other who could love you the way I do."

As he had spoken, he had shifted closer, til their hands, and the letter, were almost pressed between them. With this Darcy longed to throw his free arm around her and crush her against him. He bent forward as though to kiss her, and she intuitively raised her face to meet his, her eyelids fluttering closed.

He froze, so close to the thing that he most desired. It was to be the last time he would see her - why should he not embrace her like he had yearning to? He flung himself away as if sense and morality blew him backwards with a cool wind and she stumbled slightly at the loss of his person.

Elizabeth looked up at him as though awakening from some trance - his words of love and longing had pulled at her in a most unexpected way, until she had thought no more of her animosity. As he looked to kiss her, all rational thought was lost and she knew she would have welcomed his touch.

They stared at each other, across the space of a few yards, both with cheeks blossoming and chests heaving. With as much dignity as he could, Darcy took the two steps forward that would bring him within a polite distance to her. Carefully, slowly he picked up the letter that had been dropped in his swift withdrawal, and held it out once more. Elizabeth took the letter silently.

Darcy offered the smallest of bows. "I believe you have been desiring my absence for some time. Good day Miss Bennet." He turned but was stopped when her hand appeared on his sleeve.

Carefully, slowly Elizabeth positioned herself in front of him, as close as she dared, her eyes studying his features. With her free hand pressed against his heart, she rose up and her curious lips lightly brushed his trembling mouth.

"Good day Mr Darcy," she breathed, and then with the slightest curtsy, she fled.