Title: Dare to Refuse Such a Man
Rating: T (PG-13) – Most of this story is turbulent, but relatively innocent. However, there are some scenes which hint at/depict domestic violence.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Regency
PSA: I hope that you and yours are safe and healthy during the COVID-19 crisis. Take precautions for yourself and others and please don't hoard any goods that your family doesn't need; we're all in this together, even while we remain physically apart.
Thanks: Many thanks to R, my sometimes beta and legal researcher, for her suggestions related to Darcy's "Plan B" and Collins' ultimate fate. And thanks to all of you who made it to the end.

Summary: It had never occurred to Fitzwilliam Darcy that, once he had chosen a bride, her father might dare to refuse his consent. However, a woman worthy of being pleased is also worth fighting for. DE, Regency, clean romance.

"He is the kind of man, indeed, to whom I should never dare refuse anything which he condescended to ask."

Mr Bennet, Pride and Prejudice Volume III, Chapter 17

Epilogue

Twenty Years Later
Summer 1831

Elizabeth Darcy tread the long corridor she had known as a girl, her feet following the ghostly steps of her past self into the depths of the house which had once been her home half a lifetime ago. The floorboards, which had already been of a certain age when last she had resided there, creaked in a familiar fashion as she approached her ultimate destination. The only thing which felt different from back then was the swish of her skirts; as a young woman of twenty, the style had not been quite so full and so the hallway felt slightly narrower than it was in her memories. Otherwise, it was very much the same.

Just ahead of her was a door left slightly ajar, allowing a sharp shaft of light to penetrate the dim gloom of the corridor and light Elizabeth's way. From within, Elizabeth could hear the snuffling sounds of grief.

Pushing the door open more fully, Elizabeth bent her head around the frame and called out, gently, "Mama?"

Mama jerked slightly as if startled and sat more stiffly upright in her favorite chair. She clutched the fist containing her handkerchief to her ruffled chest and scolded, her voice inhibited by a nasal whine, "Lizzy! You frightened me!"

Elizabeth crossed the threshold into the room and closed the door behind her. "I apologize, Mama, that was not my intent. I came to see if you were well."

"Oh, well enough, I suppose," Mama responded dismissively, though the redness of her eyes and the dampness she wiped at with her handkerchief said otherwise. After an irrepressible sniff and a shuddering breath, she lowered the lacy, monogrammed scrap of cloth into her lap and looked directly at her daughter. "It is just my nerves. No one knows what I suffer from them."

Sitting in the chair closest to her mother's, Elizabeth smiled with sympathetic placation and reached out to hold her hand. With a squeeze, she said, "I miss him, too, Mama."

"Of course you do!" Mama declared, waving her free hand in the air in a gesture which was meant to be dramatic but which was weak instead. "You were his favorite. Aside from that little disagreement when your papa wished you to marry Mr Collins, he has always indulged you. And then he did the same with Nell. It used to vex me greatly, but then Thomas was a vexing man."

A laugh bubbled up from the depths of Elizabeth's throat at the same moment tears welled in her eyes. "He was, at that. And greatly proud of himself for it, too. I think he liked nothing better than to be a thorn in everyone's side; it amused him to exasperate us all. He occasionally took it too far, but he never really meant any harm by it."

Mama's face lowered and her eyelashes beat rapidly against her cheeks for several seconds. "No, he did not. He was a horrid, irritating, infuriating man, but still a good one. When he could be bothered to be, at least."

"I think that describes Papa exactly," Elizabeth agreed with a slight tremble in her voice. She quickly swept away an escaped tear and continued, "He was by no means perfect, but he loved us all in his own way."

"Oh, Lizzy!" Mama's pride dissolved in an instant and she crumpled over in her chair into her second daughter's waiting arms. "I have n-never been so angry with him! How could he leave us?"

Elizabeth leaned forward as far as her corset would allow her and cradled her mother in her arms; she could remember their positions in reverse when she, as a small child, would seek out Mama for comfort. Elizabeth did what Mama would do then and stroked her back, rocked her in place and cooed softly into her hair while she sobbed into the fine black silk of Elizabeth's mourning dress. "Shh...shh, Mama..."

Though her parents had never quite enjoyed the sort of deeply loving marriage that she and William could boast, there had been a marked improvement in their relationship after Elizabeth had resigned the name of Bennet. Papa had, upon recognizing his wife's latent ability for cleverness, shown Mama more deference and respect in the decades they had remaining to them. They did not suddenly discover an unknown passion for one another – at least, neither Elizabeth nor any of her sisters had ever seen a sign of such – but there had been contentment. Fondness. A friendship, even, between them which had made their last twenty years far more pleasurable than their first. It was no wonder that Mama was so swept away in her grief now that Papa had suddenly left them, the victim of an unknown ailment which had struck him dead as he slept. Mama had entered his bedchamber one morning, ready to scold him thoroughly for lazing about in bed for half the day, and discovered him in the sort of repose which one could not be roused from.

At length, Mama calmed and pulled free of Elizabeth's embrace, her expression still twisted with sorrow and blotchy from her tears. "I am well, Lizzy. I simply...I cannot believe he is gone. After more than forty years, for him to leave me so suddenly..."

"I understand." Elizabeth grasped her mother's hand again and gave it a squeeze. "It was all very sudden. But at least we have the comfort of knowing that he did not suffer."

"There is that," Mama agreed with a little hiccup.

"Mama?"

Both mother and daughter turned to the open doorway to see a young lady bearing a remarkable resemblance to Elizabeth standing there. Her gray eyes, the only feature indisputably inherited from her father, watched the scene warily from the threshold.

Mama's demeanor changed instantly into one of more cheer, though a shadow of grief remained. Disengaging herself entirely from Elizabeth, Mama reached out both arms to welcome the newcomer inside. "Nell, my dear girl! Come give your grandmama a kiss!"

Nell rushed immediately inside and into her grandmother's arms, wrapping her own about Mama's shoulders in a short yet crushing hug. The requested kiss was bestowed upon Mama's cheek. "I cannot believe Grandpapa is gone! How desolate you must be."

Mama pulled back and gazed fondly upon the visage of her eldest grandchild, recently turned eighteen and soon to be out in society, and fiddled with the curls spilling around her face. "You are such a beauty, my girl, just like your mama. And so clever, too! It is no wonder you were Grandpapa Bennet's favorite."

Nell lowered herself into the chair on Mama's other side. A smile twitched upon her lips and her eyes twinkled, but she affected a scandalized tone. "Grandmama!"

"What? It is the truth! Thomas could not help himself. It was much the same with your mother, when she was a girl. Ask any of your aunties and they will tell you the same. It was why he gave your dear papa such a hard time when he came asking for your mama's hand twenty years ago; Thomas could not bear the thought of his favorite child hailing off to Derbyshire and so made as trouble as he could. But, obviously, he came to his senses and so here you are."

The part of Elizabeth which could not help being irreverent – one inherited from her father, no doubt – wanted to laugh at Mama's succinct summary of the events surrounding her complicated engagement to William, but she withheld the urge, allowing only a small, discreet smile. Papa would not have begrudged her the amusement, surely, but Mama's state was so tender that Elizabeth did not wish to agitate her further.

Nell, who knew nothing of the difficulties preceding her parents' marriage, appeared startled by the news. Her eyes widened and her mouth drooped slightly open in astonishment. "I never heard that Grandpapa was opposed to Papa!"

"It was a long time ago, Sweetling," Elizabeth interjected before her mother could launch into the entire sorry tale of the conflict which had nearly torn their family apart from within. "Have the gentlemen returned from the churchyard yet?"

"Not yet, but all the refreshments are ready. I was coming to let you know."

"Very well. Mama," Elizabeth returned her attention to her mother, "perhaps you should go upstairs to your room to freshen up a bit before the guests arrive. I am sure much of the neighborhood will be here to pay their respects within the hour."

"Yes, yes, I shall do that." As Mama stood, so too did Elizabeth and Nell. "I shan't be gone long. I shall just wash my face and be back down." Mama then swept from the room in a swirl of black bombazine and frills, calling for Mrs Greer – the woman who had taken over for Hill several years prior – as she went.

"Mama," Nell began as soon as her grandmother was gone, "you never told me about Grandpapa's disapproval of Papa."

Elizabeth shrugged. "By the time you were old enough to understand, my love, it had already happened too long ago to be of any real importance."

Nell sat back down again and looked up at her mother with wide, cloudy-gray eyes. It appeared to Elizabeth that she was settling in for the full story. "But why would Grandpapa not like Papa? I cannot understand it. They always seemed to get along well enough to me, even if they were never close."

Sighing, Elizabeth sat down as well. "It is both complicated and very simple; I wanted to marry your father and your grandpapa wanted me to marry someone else. He did not handle it well when I refused to go along with his scheme and there was some...unpleasantness as a result."

"Who did Grandpapa wish you to marry?"

"My cousin, Mr Collins, who, after your grandmother is dead, shall take possession of Longbourn. Of course, back then there was no such provision for her – or any of us – and so your grandfather thought it best to arrange a marriage between myself and his heir to protect our futures. I cannot blame him for this much, but he was very wrong for your grandfather to attempt to force me into accepting a man I could not like in place of one I loved."

Nell's surprise seemed to grow with each detail revealed. "But you fell in love with Papa instead?"

"Very much so," Elizabeth agreed, her voice softened by affection for her William who, even after twenty years, was as dear to her as he had been in the first flush of their mutual love. "I think I told you before that we met when I took a trip with your great Aunt and Uncle Gardiner?" Nell nodded to confirm that this fact was well known to her. "Well, we fell in love while I was visiting, staying in Lambton at the parsonage there. Eventually, your father requested a courtship of Uncle Gardiner and word was sent to my father to request his permission for it. Instead of sending it, Papa – that is, your grandfather – came all the way to Derbyshire to drag me back home in an attempt to keep myself and your father apart."

"No! What happened then? Did you run away from home and catch the stage back to Pemberley?"

Elizabeth laughed openly at her daughter's fanciful notions, undoubtedly fed by a steady diet of novels. She and her aunt Georgiana shared a love for them and often recommended specific titles to one another via correspondence. "Of course not! Of all the ridiculous things...no, your father eventually discerned my location from the available clues and came to Hertfordshire to propose to me. He did so in the middle of a ballroom, in fact, and made quite a spectacle of us both."

"How romantic." Nell sighed in that wistful way young girls are prone to. "And so Grandpapa recognized how much Papa loved you and granted his consent?"

"Not hardly," Elizabeth replied with a wry twist to her lips. "Instead, he dug his heels in and tried to force me to marry Mr Collins! I would not agree, however, and so we were at an impasse for nearly two months."

Scooting forward to the edge of her chair, Nell eagerly pressed her mother to continue. "What finally caused Grandpapa to change his mind?"

A sharp stab of humiliation and forgotten pain stilled Elizabeth's tongue for a long moment. She could still recall the gnarled expression of rage upon her cousin's face, the scathing growl of his voice and the sting of his palm on her cheek even so many years later. At length, Elizabeth swallowed, dispelled the rush of memories bombarding her mind and replied, "Mr Collins proved himself to be not the gentleman my father expected and so he dissolved the supposed engagement between us. Feeling remorse for all he had done, your grandfather then recanted his objections to the match between myself and your father and we were married a week later."

"And so that is why Papa has always been so distant with Grandpapa? Because he tried to prevent your marriage?"

"Essentially," Elizabeth agreed, not feeling it the appropriate time or place to reveal more than she already had about that terrible time. All was well now that it had ended well, but Elizabeth preferred not to dwell upon the ugliness which had consumed them all. She much preferred to remember the past as it gave her pleasure.

Nell tilted her head inquisitively at her mother. "What happened to Mr Collins? You said that once Grandmama was not entitled to stay here at Longbourn and that Mr Collins was Grandpapa's heir. Did he pass away, or…?"

"No, no, nothing like that." Elizabeth waved Nell's guess away with a swat of her hand. "Mr Collins, as I have said, proved himself to be not what your grandfather expected and overstepped himself. This led to a lawsuit championed by both my father and yours, the result of which was a settlement which changed the arrangements of the entail of Longbourn. It will eventually still go to Mr Collins, but instead of coming to take possession upon your grandfather's death he must now wait until your grandmother's. She is entitled to live here until then and Mr Collins must allow it. The way your father explained it to me, the estate is temporarily entrusted to him so that it can all be managed during Mama's lifetime without any input from Mr Collins...it is all very technical and I am not certain that I understand all aspects of it, but in essence Mr Collins' inheritance has been delayed until your grandmother passes. For now, he remains in Northamptonshire where he is a clergyman. The last I heard of him, he is married with two daughters, but that was some time ago."

In fact, not since Mr Collins had quite willingly given up his living at Hunsford. He had clung to it far longer than most would have considered wise, several years beyond the death of Lady Catherine, but eventually had ceded it to another once an opportunity to darken another church's doorstep had fallen into his lap (as orchestrated by William).

Most unfortunately for Mr Collins and all his pretensions to grandeur, Lady Catherine had died shortly before Elizabeth and William's wedding, the result of a tantrum which had led to an apoplexy. Apparently not the type of woman to be defeated so easily, Lady Catherine had demanded that her brother, the Earl of Matlock, somehow exercise his authority to prevent the Darcys' union. When informed that the earl – fondly known to Elizabeth and her children as Uncle James, God rest his sweet soul – had no intention of bending to her whims, Lady Catherine had become overwrought and succumbed to her own temper. A fitting, if lamentable, end to a woman so intent upon having her own way that she would manipulate others to her own ends. Elizabeth had never celebrated Lady Catherine's demise, but nor had she ever particularly mourned it considering the grand dame's role in encouraging Mr Collins to enact violence on her behalf.

In the wake of this unfortunate incident, Mr Collins had been left somewhat adrift without his patroness to dictate his every move. As a result, the lawsuit against him became insurmountable and led to him signing away a good portion of his rights to Longbourn. He would still inherit eventually – assuming, of course, that he outlived his cousin's wife. Considering his great corpulence, it was perhaps not such a sure thing, but without Lady Catherine's money and influence behind him it was as good as Mr Collins could aspire to. In return for allowing Mama to reside at Longbourn past her husband's demise, Mr Collins had faced no further legal consequences for assaulting Elizabeth and The Church of England had not been informed of his misdeeds, enabling him to retain his status as a clergyman.

Anne de Bourgh, as her mother's only living child, had inherited Rosings Park and all of its assets upon Lady Catherine's death but had since shown little to no inclination to play the part of Mr Collins' patroness. Instead, she had almost immediately hied off to London and placed herself under the care of her remaining Fitzwilliam relatives and a bevy of various medical practitioners. Elizabeth was still unsure of what, specifically, ailed her cousin-by-marriage, but suspected that Anne simply liked the attention of being unwell. Considering Anne's meek personality and very real frailty, Elizabeth supposed that indulging her hurt no one. Indeed, Anne's continuing ill health had some benefit to others in that she had determined never to marry, leaving her happily willing to bestow her great fortune and extensive property upon those who were both deserving and in need of it.

Unsurprisingly, Anne had named Colonel Fitzwilliam – now the Honorable Mr Richard Fitzwilliam since leaving the army some time ago – her living heir and allowed him to take the helm of Rosings Park in her absence. This had enabled Richard to take a wife of his choosing and, much to Elizabeth's great joy, he had married her good friend Charlotte Lucas a year or so after the Darcys had been united. The pair had met at William and Elizabeth's wedding and begun a light flirtation with one another. A simultaneous visit to Pemberley over the summer had done the rest and they were joined as husband and wife early in 1813.

Mr Collins, of course, had immediately imposed himself upon them as soon as the Fitzwilliams had taken up their residence at Rosings Park, undoubtedly hoping to ingratiate himself with a new patron or patroness. Richard and Charlotte, however, were both perfectly aware of the true nature of their inherited clergyman and had rebuffed all his efforts to make himself agreeable to them. Richard, particularly, had made his sentiments known to Mr Collins and shown open disfavor to the clergyman in public by refusing to attend any sermons at Hunsford, but the thickness of Mr Collins' skull did not admit sensibleness of any sort. He continued to persist for many months.

Until the Darcys had made their first pilgrimage to Rosings Park to visit their dear Fitzwilliam cousins. At first, William had not wished to make the trip at all, knowing that Mr Collins was still in residence at Hunsford, but Elizabeth had insisted; she had wanted to see Charlotte again after many months of separation and witness the happiness of her old friend's married state. Elizabeth had soothed her husband with the promise to stay well clear of Mr Collins whenever she should happen to come across him, assuming that the toady parson – so freshly rebuked by the courts via the lawsuit brought against him – would prefer to avoid them with equal studiousness. And so to Rosings Park they were to go over William's objections.

Unfortunately, Elizabeth had greatly underestimated both Mr Collins' stupidity and his obsequiousness. Not only had he attempted to pay them a formal visit upon their arrival, claiming their relationship as cousins as his excuse, but it seemed everywhere Elizabeth walked around the grounds Mr Collins would pop up. She had warned him more than once to leave her be, but Mr Collins would continue to press his luck by coming across her "accidentally" on her excursions. A single mention to William of this transparent attempt to ingratiate himself to her had resulted in...well, Elizabeth was not entirely certain what had occurred between William and Mr Collins, but the next time she had spotted her cousin in the village he had scampered – limped, really – away at the sight of her, his face darkened with not one but two black eyes. When asked, William would only admit to having a "conversation" with Mr Collins and could not be compelled to reveal more. Elizabeth had ultimately decided that she did not truly wish to know what sort of violence had been meted out to Mr Collins on her behalf and had let the matter rest from there.

Several weeks later, after the Darcys had returned to Pemberley, Elizabeth had received a letter from Charlotte announcing that Mr Collins had quite suddenly taken a position as a curate in Northamptonshire, resigned the more profitable living he held in Hunsford and was gone from the country entirely. With such coincidental timing and demotion, Elizabeth had been forced to suspect that William had had a hand in this new assignment. William had not bothered to deny it, insisting that removing Mr Collins from their lives had been necessary. Since Mr Collins had not the wit to search out a new position for himself and had instead imposed his company upon relatives who preferred to cut him, it had been up to William to convince him otherwise. Elizabeth had then kissed her husband and thanked him for looking out for them all, regardless of the methods he had used to bring it about.

Once settled into his new post, Mr Collins had found a wife amongst his parishioners, one who was not so high born as he had come to expect and of a domineering personality. Elizabeth had no insight into the Collinses' marriage, of course, but having heard much of Mrs Agnes Collins from her dear friend Fanny Bertram (1) – wife of one of William's old school friends – she strongly suspected that Mr Collins did not dare to lay a finger upon her as he once had Elizabeth. The description of Mrs Collins reminded her strongly of Lady Catherine and, according to Fanny, appeared to rule their roost with the type of iron fist that a man such as Mr Collins likely required. They had two daughters between them and no sons, something which had greatly amused Papa during his lifetime; it seemed that his heir was no more capable of siring a male child than he had been. Mama had merely scoffed at them all and refused to discuss anyone by the name of Collins further. And that was the last information Elizabeth had heard of her odious cousin.

"Mama?"

Elizabeth startled out of her reverie to find her daughter staring at her inquisitively, her head dipped to one side and her brow raised in a familiar way. Elizabeth smiled at this expression which she herself had worn often and said, "I am sorry, my love. I was woolgathering. Shall we return to the others?"

o0o

"I was quite sorry to hear of your father's passing, Lizzy."

Elizabeth smiled at Mrs Maria Jones, once Miss Maria Lucas, and accepted her condolences. Maria had always been a sweet girl and had grown out of that empty-headed silliness which had once plagued her, settling down with a steady young man known to them both since their childhoods. Maria still resided in the neighborhood in which she had grown up, a comfort to her parents – now sadly gone from the world for several years – since Charlotte had taken herself fifty miles from them. "Thank you. I understand I am to congratulate you on a new addition to your household?"

Maria's eyes brightened with joy. "Yes, little Andrew is such a darling boy! His sisters quite dote on him and his father could not be more proud."

"Men are always especially fond of their sons," replied Elizabeth, thinking of her own husband's radiating pride upon the birth of Alex and, later, Will. He doted on Nell and Bess, but took a special interest in his boys as most men were wont to do. Elizabeth supposed that this had less to do with how much affection he had for one child over another and more with how much time he naturally spent with them. As his sons and future heirs to the Darcy fortune and properties, William took an interest in educating them from an early age and persisted in doing so on their school breaks. Further, since their girls had now both entered adolescence, it amused Elizabeth to see William's growing discomfort with their impending womanhood. Apparently, his experience with raising his sister had not added to William's confidence in rearing females. At least now he had a wife to guide them in ways which he could not.

A few more exchanges of pleasantries later and Maria moved away to obtain some refreshment for herself. Elizabeth removed herself to the window and searched for any signs of the men's approach, but found no evidence of it. Papa's internment would surely be finished soon and the gentlemen returned to Longbourn before long, but Elizabeth was anxious to see William. No one could bring her the same sort of comfort that her dear husband could and Elizabeth missed his soothing presence. She sighed and turned back to the room.

Longbourn's largest sitting room was already quite full even without the men present as many of their female neighbors had come to pay their respects to Papa's memory and condole with Mama. Mama herself was seated in the center of the room and surrounded by all of her daughters but one, Lydia not yet arrived from Portsmouth with her husband. But all the rest were there and supporting their mother as best they were capable.

Jane, naturally, had arrived at Longbourn more quickly than the rest of them upon the news of their father's passing and had been in residence for several days looking after all of the funeral arrangements with some assistance from her five fair-haired daughters. After marrying in the spring of 1812, the Bingleys had retained the lease of Netherfield Park for an additional year but, upon Charles learning of a business venture in York which could not be passed up, moved north and settled within five-and-twenty miles of their Darcy relations. They had been sorry to go, but in doing so had experienced so much success that Charles' annual income had increased by nearly two thousand a year. The Darcys had invested likewise and fared similarly, using their proceeds to outright purchase Netherfield as a place where their increasingly large families might stay in lieu of Longbourn itself which could not support more than two guests at a time whilst the younger girls were still in residence. It was where Elizabeth and her children were currently resting their heads whilst Jane and her girls utilized all the bedrooms at Longbourn. When Will was old enough, Netherfield would pass to him.

Once settled in the north, Jane and Charles had proceeded to mimic the Bennets by having five lovely daughters, each of them exceptionally pretty in her own way. Fortunately, the Bingley estate, Oak Grove, as newly purchased as it was was not subject to an entail and so having no son meant little to them. Elizabeth suspected that they would wish to have one all the same, especially Charles, but neither Jane nor her husband were ever inclined to be anything except grateful for their many blessings.

After Charles had married Jane, Miss Caroline Bingley had thereafter declined to live with her brother for any significant length of time, instead preferring the accommodations of her sister, Mrs Hurst. Whilst partaking of the waters of Bath on behalf of Mr Hurst's gout, Miss Bingley happened to attract the attention of a baronet in dire need of her dowry. It had been no hardship for Miss Bingley to trade her maiden name for that of a longstanding member of the peerage and wore the moniker Lady Caroline Elliot the same way she wore the feathers in her hair; with pomp and circumstance. It was a definite coup for a lady born to a line of tradesmen, but from what Elizabeth understood Lady Caroline's improved social standing came with its fair share of burdens. For one, Sir Walter (2) had married the young and lovely Miss Bingley with the hopes of providing an heir, one he had not been so fortunate as to have with his first wife. In this Lady Caroline was a disappointment to her husband – or so said the thriving gossip of Town. The couple remained entirely childless. For another, though Sir Walter's second and youngest daughters had each made proper matches for themselves, it had long been apparent that the eldest was destined for spinsterhood. Lady Caroline continued to host Miss Elliot – ironically christened Elizabeth at her birth – in her home with no hopes of ever being rid of her. Had either lady been more amiable or at least less assured of her own superiority they might have forged an everlasting friendship, but alas; they were one another's punishment for lives spent in pursuit of their own manipulative ends. Or at least that was Elizabeth's impression, having come across Lady Caroline occasionally at Oak Grove whenever she deigned to visit her brother and his wife, usually unannounced and only grudgingly welcomed.

As fortunate as the eldest Bennet sisters were to live so close to one another, it was not Jane who resided nearest to Pemberley. That privilege belonged to Mrs Katherine Baker, formerly Miss Kitty Bennet, who was married to the current incumbent of the living at Lambton, something which greatly thrilled their Aunt Gardiner. Mr Baker had replaced Mr Morton in 1813, barely two years after his predecessor had taken up the post, and met Kitty the following summer when she had been nineteen. They had fallen quite in love with one another and married in the autumn. They now had two children, a girl named Margaret and a boy they called John, and expected another soon.

Mr Morton himself was also married, though his road to matrimony had been quite as rocky as Elizabeth and William's had been. His introduction to Miss Eleanor Tilney, foisted upon him rather awkwardly by Elizabeth herself before being snatched away from Derbyshire by her father, had led to a tumultuous romance between them. Not because of Eleanor who was as sweet and steady as one could wish for, but because of her father's objection to the match. Apparently, General Tilney had expected a more wealthy and illustrious husband for his only daughter and had outright forbidden their marriage for several months. It was only upon the sudden – yet not especially unexpected, considering his habits – death of Mr Morton's foppish elder brother and the elevation of himself as heir to an earldom that General Tilney had relented and the pair had been allowed to marry. Mr Morton, now Viscount Ashby, who had become quite a good friend to Elizabeth during his tribulations, had then given up his living to Mr Baker and moved back to his family's ancestral estate to achieve his fondest wish. What no one had expected at the time was for Kitty to also benefit from the long awaited union of the Mortons. (3)

Though Mama had always expected Mary to be the one to make a match with a clergyman, the middle Bennet daughter had actually attached herself to a barrister in London, one Mr Joseph Shaw, an acquaintance of the Gardiners. He made quite a good living, even if it was not equal to that of her more wealthy brothers-in-law, and they resided in a moderately fashionable area of Town with their two sons, Josiah and Jonah. Theirs was a strict household with high educational expectations, but the Shaws all seemed to thrive upon this, even the boys. Mary had come alone without her husband and sons as the former could not presently leave his practice and the latter had their studies to attend to and resided at Netherfield with the Darcys. She had been of great assistance to Jane in arranging all the particulars of Papa's funeral, directing the staff and keeping everyone on schedule, as well as acting as a source of Biblical comfort to them all. Thankfully, Mary had grown out of her most pedantic airs and so it was no burden to listen to the scripture she read aloud to them in the evenings.

Only Lydia had married something like her family had expected, but not quite. Instead of a red coated soldier, the youngest Bennet had attached herself to a blue-frocked sailor. Mr William Price was, perhaps, the least illustrious of all their husbands, having come from humble origins, but he was a good man with a level head and suited Lydia's sense of adventure. The pair had been introduced at Pemberley during a house party which included the Bertrams, Mr Price being Fanny's elder brother, and married impulsively via elopement. Papa and William had been united in their distaste for the couples' behavior, but it could have been much worse; at least they had returned married. Further, Lydia could have done much worse for herself than William Price (4).

The Prices unfortunately had not been blessed with any children, but this seemed to bother Lydia not one single whit because she thrilled in sailing around the world with her "dear Price." Since the war with France had ended, their home had primarily been in Portsmouth where her husband had continued to work for the navy in a less active capacity. Lydia had sent word that she would return to Hertfordshire as soon as she could, anticipating an arrival the day after tomorrow. She trusted that Mama's needs would be properly seen to in the meantime by her bevy of other daughters and grandchildren which was, to be fair, quite the truth. Elizabeth had shook her head at her youngest sister's reasoning, but Lydia would always be Lydia; not quite as responsible as the rest of them.

At least her wilder tendencies – and the manners of all three younger girls improved – had been curbed by the service of Mrs Annesley, a companion found by William to assist his in-laws a few months into their marriage. Mrs Annesley had originally been intended for Georgiana as a replacement for Mrs Younge, but it had been determined by William and the then-Colonel Fitzwilliam that Elizabeth would do just as well – perhaps even better – for the repentant girl once she was installed at Pemberley as Mrs Darcy. Instead, Mrs Annesley had been placed with the Bennets to instill some better decorum in the remaining unmarried daughters. William had offered to pay her salary, but Papa, who had indeed remained steady in his promises to become a more responsible father and landowner, had taken that task upon himself. Mrs Annesley had not left them until Lydia had married, rather embarrassed that though her charge had improved in manners she was, in essentials, much the same as she ever was. No one blamed Mrs Annesley for Lydia's folly – which, after all, might have been much worse – and she was released from her obligations with a glowing recommendation.

As anticipated by her guardians, Georgiana had done quite well with Elizabeth as her role model rather than a paid companion. Though her initial reaction to being thwarted in her scheme to elope with Mr Wickham had been anger, she had soon recognized the truth in what her brother had intimated about her erstwhile lover's true intentions and ceased to regret him. She continued to regret her foolish actions for many years to come, but never the loss of Mr Wickham.

For Mr Wickham's part, his story was as short as it was pitiful – he died of cholera in prison a few months into his sentence. Much like Lady Catherine, his passing was largely unlamented by everyone who had endured the misfortune of knowing him.

Georgiana had remained unmarried until the age of one-and-twenty, but then met and fell in love with a business partner of Mr Bingley's, a Mr John Windham. He was not so high born as her brother would have liked, but his income was excellent and he cared for Georgiana very much. With a bit of prodding from Elizabeth, William had allowed the match and the pair had settled close to the Bingleys in York where the business was located. Like Charles, Mr Windham had eventually given up day-to-day interest in their venture and purchased an estate to live as landed gentry. They and their children – a pair of twins, both boys – had sent their sincere condolences upon Papa's death to not only Elizabeth but Mama, Jane and all the other Bennet sisters, as well.

Mrs Younge, the dear soul, had sent hers as well. Now approaching her elderly years, she remained a resident in her brother's household, caring for him in his infirmity since the passing of their mother and his wife. Mrs Younge maintained a correspondence with Georgiana and, thus, had learned of Papa's passing. Elizabeth had never been as close to her sister-in-law's former companion as Georgiana, of course, but they had maintained a friendly acquaintanceship over the years, particularly whilst Georgiana was still in residence at Pemberley.

William had, indeed, relented and allowed Mrs Younge contact with his sister in deference to her role in preventing calamity. Georgiana had not been receptive to Mrs Younge's overtures at first, bitter at her former companion's part in both promoting and then dismantling her clandestine romance with Mr Wickham, but had eventually responded to one of her letters. Their relationship had been repaired slowly and a friendship grown between them, nurtured by Elizabeth's encouragement to forgive. When Georgiana had married Mr Windham, Mrs Younge had been present at the ceremony and cried tears of happiness alongside the collection of Darcys, Fitzwilliams and Bennets.

'Such a journey I have experienced these past twenty years,' Elizabeth thought with a deep, shuddering sigh.

A flicker of movement outside the window drew Elizabeth's attention and she turned to see a trail of black-clad gentlemen approaching the house, headed by her own husband. Palpable relief at William's dear figure in the near distance filled Elizabeth's chest and she smiled.

Several minutes later, Elizabeth met him at the front entry. Whilst the other men nodded to her, offered quick condolences and made their way to the sitting room where all the refreshments were set up, William lingered in the vestibule at her side, attuned to her need for his sole presence.

Alex and Will paused to wait for their parents, each a near mirror image of the other and their father. They both showed signs of inheriting the Darcy height, though neither, at sixteen and fifteen respectively, had yet reached their limits. No doubt Alex would one day be at eye level with William, if not a little taller, and Will would likely be the same. Their dark hair was wavy, their chins cleft and their bone structure reminiscent of their pater. The only feature obviously passed down from Elizabeth was their grass-green eyes.

As much as they looked alike, they were quite different in personality. Alex, as the eldest, felt greater pressure as his father's heir and acted with a greater sense of decorum – at least before his parents. However, he had shown an open playfulness which William did not and Elizabeth quite enjoyed. Will, as the younger son, showed little restraint at all, which worried his namesake; Elizabeth felt he would grow out of it after a few more years of maturation, having been much the same at his age (much to her mother's chagrin).

William waved them on. "Go greet your grandmother." Obediently, the boys moved along with the rest.

"Are you well, dearest?" William inquired once they were properly alone.

Elizabeth gazed upon the visage of her beloved husband of the past twenty years and smiled fondly. He was no less handsome for being nearly twice as old as he had been when they had met, though he showed a few signs of age. There were deeper lines in his face and the hair at his temples had gone gray, but he was still tall and fit like the Master of Pemberley should be. His shoulders carried all of their burdens with strength and grace and she was grateful to him for being such an excellent man. She showed this gratitude by reaching up and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. Pulling back, she belatedly replied to his query with, "I am now that you have returned. It has been a difficult day, full of memories."

A crinkle appeared between William's brows and his lips turned downward in a slight frown. "Troubling ones?"

"Some," she admitted, thinking briefly of Mr Collins, their tumultuous engagement and the loss of so many, both loved and decidedly not, throughout the two decades of their union, "but not all. I suppose Papa's passing has brought up many things and reminded me of all that we have to be grateful for. We are most fortunate, William."

"That we are," he agreed, his expression softening and his hands reaching out to pull her closer. Elizabeth consented to his overture by stepping into his embrace and nuzzled herself into his chest. The foyer of her family's home was not the most private place to be displaying their affection, but everyone else was busy attending the wake in the sitting room and Elizabeth was certain that none would begrudge her this moment of comfort.

"Though your father and I did not always see eye to eye," William continued after a long moment of mutual silence, drawing Elizabeth's gaze upward to his face once more, "he was a good man."

Elizabeth quirked her brow at him and a smile tugged at her lips. "So he improved upon closer acquaintance?"

"More like he improved after much effort."

Elizabeth laughed at this begrudging concession. "I suppose that is fair, but you must admit that Papa did quite well once he recognized his failings. He was by no means perfect overnight, but then Rome was hardly built in a day. And not everyone is so entrenched in his duties as are you."

"You say that as if it is a bad thing."

"It is not, of course," Elizabeth presented her husband with another kiss to soothe away her unintended offense, "but Papa never learned the value of self-sacrifice when he was young. He did very well considering his longstanding bad habits. I think even you were impressed by the improvements here at Longbourn, as well as his handling of Mr Collins."

"I was," William conceded, "though it should not have come at your expense."

Elizabeth's amusement dimmed slightly and she scolded, "It was twenty years ago, William, and Papa is now gone. Might you cease speaking ill of him?"

William's expression shifted into one of contrition and it was his turn to bestow an apologetic kiss. He pressed it to Elizabeth's forehead and whispered into her curls, "I am sorry, my love. You are correct; whatever issues your father and I had between us, they are long since resolved and I should not continue to harp upon them. Forgive me."

Tucking her head more comfortably beneath her husband's chin, Elizabeth sighed and said, "I suppose you cannot help your implacable resentment any more than Papa could help his indolence. Of course I forgive you."

In his most haughty voice, one reserved only for teasing her, William added, "You know, I was really quite magnanimous with Mr Bennet throughout the years, all things considered. He could not have expected a greater boon than I allowed him."

"Oh?" Elizabeth pressed herself closer to William's chest and curled her impish smile against his coat. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter. "Astonish me, sir; what great service did you perform for my father?"

"I allowed him to visit the library at Pemberley." A pause for effect. "Twice."

"Mama? Papa?"

Elizabeth raised her cheek from William's lapel and directed her gaze down the hallway to where their youngest child, thirteen-year-old Bess, stood in the glow of the open sitting room doorway. She looked nearly as much like Elizabeth as her elder sister, but her hair fell more in a wave than a series of spiraling ringlets and her face was slightly more elongated than her mother's, reminiscent of her father. She, like the boys, had also inherited Elizabeth's green eyes which seemed to miss nothing.

"Your mother and I shall be there directly," William informed Bess as he placed a more proper distance between himself and his wife. His left hand, however, remained settled at the lowest point of Elizabeth's back and maintained the physical connection between them.

Bess, more like her father in temperament than all the rest of their children put together, stared solemnly at them a long moment but did not question. She then nodded and turned back into the sitting room where their friends and family were gathered, presumably to carry what she had learned back to someone within.

"Are you well enough to join the others?" William asked, his gray gaze minutely trailing the lines of Elizabeth's face.

Elizabeth nodded and assured him, "I am well. Come, let us go in."

They entered the sitting room with their arms entwined, their footsteps echoing around the empty vestibule.

Finis

Footnotes:

(1) Fanny Bertram – Yep, another crossover. The way I figure it, Darcy arranged for Mr Collins to act as Dr Grant's curate once the Grants had moved off to London. The way I figure it, Darcy might very well have gone to school with someone like Edmund Bertram and his old chum might have been of assistance in placing Mr Collins elsewhere.

(2) Sir Walter – that is, Sir Walter Elliot from Persuasion. I thought it would be interesting to simultaneously give Caroline what she's always wanted and make her suffer for it. Sort of a "beware what you wish for" scenario. I can see her snapping up the chance to marry a baronet and later being miserable as Elizabeth Elliot's companion; the two ladies are too similar to ever really get along, especially since Elizabeth was her father's hostess for many years.

(3) Eleanor and General Tilney – I know that we haven't seen Mr Morton in awhile, but remember how Eleanor Tilney made a cameo back in the Derbyshire portion of this story? Yeah, thanks to Elizabeth they were introduced and later fell in love. At the end of Northanger Abbey, Jane Austen tells us "[Eleanor's] partiality for this gentleman [whom she married] was not of recent origin; and he had been long withheld only by inferiority of station from addressing her. His unexpected accession to title and fortune had removed all his difficulties; and never had the general loved his daughter so well in all her hours of companionship, utility, and patient endurance as when he first hailed her 'Your Ladyship!' Her husband was really deserving of her; independent of his peerage, his wealth, and his attachment, being to a precision the most charming young man in the world is instantly before the imagination of us all." I decided to use this little tidbit to craft my Mr Morton around. Apparently, he's a viscount.

(4) William Price – I really do love to use Austen characters wherever possible and, since I'd decided that Lydia should marry a sailor, William Price, Fanny's favorite brother, seemed the best possible option. Besides, if the Darcys are close enough to the Edmund Bertrams to get Mr Collins out of their hair, it makes sense that they might also invite them and William Price to a house party. Lydia being Lydia would naturally want to elope with him, lolz. He's a much better man than Wickham, however, and so it turned out all right.

Author's Note: And that's all she (that is, me) wrote! Be kind, I wrote over half of this today; I reserve the right to go back and fix things later if I must. I officially can't look at it any longer today, however, and so am posting it as-is. Do tell me if anything appears incongruous.

Elizabeth and Darcy aren't the only couple celebrating, btw. As of July 22nd, my husband and I have been together for nineteen years, married for nine of those. (Yeah, long story, but the short version is that we met online and lived apart for eight of the first ten years.) I literally wouldn't know what to do without Nic anymore and I know for sure that he feels the same. We met because of fanfiction, believe it or not, because he sent me an email asking me to take the bride's part in a wedding story he was writing. Hand to God, that's how it happened. Ten years to the day later, we got married ourselves and now have two beautiful children (Penelope and Alexander). So this is a good month for me :)

Many thanks to all of you who have stuck with this story over the past ten months; I know it's tough following a WIP (Work in Progress), but I hope I've made it worth your while. I very much appreciated all the encouragement, constructive criticism, personal support and ideas the readers have given me, especially whenever I was somehow derailed. Y'all have been invaluable to me as I finished my first novel.

To those of you who ultimately hated and/or had problems with "Dare to Refuse Such a Man," I'm sorry for that but it was the story that I wanted to tell. Not to sound disrespectful or ungrateful to my readers, but this was MY project to complete as I saw fit and y'all were just along for the ride. The many and various compliments/constructive criticisms absolutely encouraged me, as I said above, but I carried out what I meant to do the way I wanted it done without excessive reference to outside opinions. I'm sure that makes me sound obstinate, but every author, no matter their success, needs to stick to what they believe is best for their plot. That's what I did and I'm not ashamed of the results, regardless of what anyone else thinks about me or my work. I encourage all of you to do the same.

All of that said, it's time to move on to Something New. While I'm working on that, I'm going on a well deserved POSTING HIATUS for the next few months. I'll be back in the fall, y'all! Just in time for all the pumpkin spice ;)

See below for a sneak peak on what's coming up next….

Next Update: NONE! We're all done :)
Expected Completion: TODAY!

– MrsMarySmythe

Coming Soon…

Title: Blind Date
Rating: M – for language and sexual situations.
Disclaimer: Though I write stories based on the novels and characters of Jane Austen, this work belongs to ME and no one else. Unless given express permission, no one besides myself has the right to distribute or profit from my intellectual property. All rights reserved.
Setting: Modern AU (MAU)
Expected Release: September or October, depending on when I finish it; meant to be a PIP (post-in-progress)

Summary: The meddlesome Barbie Gardiner (formerly Bennet and back to Gardiner) wrangles a prime blind date for her eldest, most beautiful daughter, but not everything goes according to her plan. William Darcy isn't interested in Jen Bennet, but rather her younger sister, Liz. Liz, however, believes that the handsome millionaire is messing with her and won't give her heart away so easily. MAU, HEA.

(A snippet from the prologue, #SorryNotSorry.)

En route, Liz had pried the plastic lid off of the cup full of partially melted ice cubes and sticky coffee-flavored liquid and so she was primed for her planned assault before Mr Douchey had so much as registered her presence. Deciding that such just wouldn't do, Liz cleared her throat to gain his attention and, when he turned, she saw the shift from annoyance to alarm come over his disgustingly handsome face. He looked up at her with a pair of wide gray eyes the color of storm clouds and a pallor more akin to creamer as it finally occurred to him that she must have overheard his commentary (it shouldn't really be a surprise, honestly; half the coffee shop had probably heard him, too. The guy should learn to moderate his voice better).

With a satisfied little smirk, Liz poured the iced coffee directly into Mr Douchey's lap. There was no pretense of an accident and she didn't simper and apologize afterward, she just doused him with the wake up call he deserved.

Mr Douchey, upon the ice-cold drink meeting his crotch, leaped up – damn, he was tall – and began swearing. "FUCK!"

"The next time you decide to evaluate how 'tolerable' someone is in public," Mr Douchey looked up when Liz began speaking, his face now red and formed into an expression which was an open mix of shock and anger, "remember that revenge is a dish best served cold. Fuck you." Feeling accomplished, Liz dropped the empty cup at Mr Douchey's feet like a rock star dropping a mic.

A/N:…and you know you've always wanted to do that. To read more, tune in to this profile in Fall 2020! In the meantime, I'm gonna finish writing it.