Bared and Beloved

Chapter One

Waterloo

Darcy Fitzwilliam

Once when Darcy was very young, he snuck into the larder and stole an entire ham. The ham weighed as much as his little frame, but he dragged that thing, sweaty and heaving, out of the kitchens, across the great lawn, over the bridge that stretched across the fishing pond, to a hovel of weeds, where a stray dog and her litter was encamped. The young Darcy patted that mutt on her filthy head, stripping off pieces of meat and letting her lick his fingers raw. When the Pemberley cook discovered that her prized-centerpiece had been pilfered, she set the downstairs ablaze with her fury, blaming one footman after another, until Darcy's mother caught wind of the theft, and sniffing a whiff of bacon from her dusty, mussed boy, presented him before the raging cook as the wanted culprit.

"There now, Betty, no need to shout anymore. We have solved the mystery," his mother said. The cook's beet-red face blanched and her wobbling jowls shivered with indignation, but her tone was as placid as a clear sky when she quickly apologized for her anger and reminded him that the little master need only ask if he wanted anything.

Years later, the cook's deference remained engrained in Darcy's mind. There she had stood, decades his elder, morally in the right, her apron soaked through in the tears and perspiration of her justified anger, and when he had been identified as the thief, she had been utterly humbled, forced by rank and rites to suppress her own feelings so as not to offend her superiors' whims. It was in that moment when Darcy, a boy of no more than five or six years old, had discovered that some people think that they own something, when in fact they do not. The cook had sobbed and railed and searched for something which had never been hers in the first place. But for Darcy, well for the master of Pemberley, the world was not only his for the taking, it was his already.

For more than twenty years, he did not encounter a single situation where this childhood lesson had not stood true. His belief in its infallibility might have endured for the entirety of his life—if not for Elizabeth Bennet. She rejected his love, rebuked his proposal, and summarily re-educated him. All people think that things are theirs, only to discover that in fact they are not. At long last, the master of Pemberley had become the cook.

~0~

After delivering the letter to Elizabeth, Darcy made fast work of the remainder of his final day at Rosings. From the park, he went directly to the parsonage, correctly guessing that Elizabeth's lecture of his letter would keep her away from Hunsford. He approached the small home, ignoring the sharp remembrances from yesterday that the sight of it conjured, and departed from the haunting place as soon as politeness allowed. He discovered Fitzwilliam yet lingered there and did not press his cousin to join him on his return up to Rosings. He appreciated the colonel's sacrifice of remaining at Hunsford to provide Elizabeth ample opportunity to seek Fitzwilliam out and ask any questions; enduring Mr. Collins' platitudes for any length of time was a great feat of perseverance for which Darcy would later thank his cousin.

Darcy arrived at Rosings within minutes, no thrashing detours through the long grasses on this trip. He found Lady Catherine, Anne, and Mrs. Jenkins in Anne's smaller apartment on the second floor, a tight, dainty room, void of any of her late father's beloved but drafty windows. The only light which filtered in was from a ship's skylight on the ceiling. On this warm day, it was more than a little stifling. The discomfort matched Darcy's mood. He entered the apartment to bide his time with his relatives and distract his mind. He would leave at first light tomorrow morning, and while the wait seemed interminable, he at least must take the dreary remains of this day to thank his aunt for her hospitality. Her ladyship waved off his formalities which he offered upon his entrance, pestering him about his tour of the park and whether he had called at the parsonage for the final time. He answered her intrusive inquiries with as little detail and as much praise of the Rosings grounds as politeness and honesty allowed.

"As ever, there is an open invitation for Anne and you to visit Georgiana and I at Pemberley this summer," he said as an obligatory afterthought.

"Visit Pemberley?" Lady Catherine wrinkled her eyes, the folds of skin rippling over her sharp brow. "I would never think of traveling with Anne in the summer! Why, it would drain her of all energy—you ought to remember things like this, Darcy. You must remember things like this."

"Of course," Darcy bowed his head at Anne. "Your health precedes all."

"Indeed, it does. Nothing ought to come before Anne's health. Certainly not a flight of fancy to Pemberley, as dear as Georgiana and you are to us."

That last remark was paired with a frightening smile, and Darcy wondered whether he ought to come clean with his aunt before taking leave of her today. It was cruel of him to permit her to run wild with her fantasies about a marriage between Anne and himself. He had learned only too well the severity of disappointment after soaring the heights of unalloyed hope. Hesitating, he glanced at Anne. She met his gaze, her large, pale eyes unusually bright.

"I would love to see Georgiana." Anne said, her voice a wisp of cobwebs. "It has been too long since last we met. But mama is right. I cannot travel in the summer. Please bring her to us next year, Darcy, or if you cannot come, send her in your stead."

"Cannot come? Are you unwell again, Anne? Of course, Darcy, will come to us next year, if not before. He is not derelict in his duties, as are other nephews whose names I shall not utter." Lady Catherine pursed her lips. "A year really is too long, Darcy. Perhaps you can visit us at Michealmas."

"Lord Fitzwilliam is not lazy, mama. He is married, and you offended his wife. That is why he no longer visits us," Anne replied, to the surprise of all in the room. Mrs. Jenkins even fell off the edge of her chair, her embarrassment ignored by the others, although the brightness of the color of her pantaloons could not be as easily disregarded.

"Anne?" Lady Catherine asked. "Answer me now, have you taken a new tonic? You are not yourself."

"I am well," she shrugged at her stunned mother, "I am quite myself." Anne raised her feeble chin and looked back at Darcy. "Do not feel as if you must visit us earlier in the year. I am confident that you will be occupied during that festive season, cousin."

Darcy had no reply to give his cousin, mystified by her comments. It was as if she knew of his admiration for Elizabeth. Anne was so silent, so small and slight, that she slipped from his notice most of the time, but he had the impression that from her overlooked corner of society, she had a clear view of the world which blindly passed her by, a clear view of him passing her over. On those rare occasions when he had thought of his relationship with Anne, he had usually thought of himself, selfishly neglecting her feelings on the matter. Some of Elizabeth's strictures on his antipathy for others sounded in his ears, and he realized that he had often failed at showing friendship to his lonely cousin, afraid that she would mistake his kindness for affection. Practical it may be to refrain from telling Aunt Catherine of his disinterest, but cruel to always make Anne into a caricature of an invalid. Badly done this trip, he silently berated himself.

Darcy looked at Anne, really looked at her, possibly for the first time since they had been children. "I always enjoy my time at Rosings," he said. "Anne, your presence is a solace to me."

She blushed and turned away, and not wanting to spoil the sweetness of the moment, Darcy hurriedly bowed and left the room, before his aunt could say anymore. If he did pat himself on the back for showing his cousin a kindness, and proving Elizabeth wrong, so much the better.

Author's Note:

As another re-hash—this second volume picks up right after Darcy has been rejected by Elizabeth and delivers her the letter. I didn't post the first book on here before putting it online, but I always intended on posting the second volume. Because I need the help and the motivation to finish. :) You lovely readers always help with my motivation. If you like my stuff, you can follow me on Facebook at sophieraewrites. And if you want to read Bored and Bewitched, please find it on Amazon. I also posted the prologue to it on my Facebook page, and the last chapter to it on my profile page here on this site.

I plan on posting a chapter to this book almost daily. And taking a break on most weekends. This is for publication, eventually. Let me know what you think. All chapters are named after movies. I hope you enjoyed.

Oh, and if you saw my little one-shot here, I do think I'm going to add a few more chapters. It's just too fun. Thanks for the reviews to that.