A Gentleman Scorned Read online

  A Gentleman Scorned

  Carrie Mollenkopf

  Additional titles by Carrie Mollenkopf

  The Redemption of Caroline Bingley

  The Vocation of Mary Bennet

  The Soulmate of Kitty Bennet

  The Stubborn Pride of Lydia Bennet

  Lizzie Bennet’s Choice

  Elizabeth of Pemberley

  Matchmaking at Pemberley

  Darcy’s Heart

  Preserving Pemberley

  Refusing Mr. Collins

  Portraits of Pemberley

  The Supernatural

  The Transformation of Georgiana Darcy

  In the Shadows of Pemberley

  Mary of Longbourn Series

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Heiress

  Mary Bennet and the Longbourn Tutor

  Mary Bennet and the Return of the Soldier

  Mary Bennet and the Substitute Vicar

  ~One~

  Netherfield, 1815…

  Fitzwilliam Darcy stared critically at his reflection. To the casual observer, he was what would be considered an excellent catch, even without knowing his income or family connections. It was not in arrogance that he appraised his handsome features and the fit of his finely tailored clothing, for he was not a prideful man. Yet, the presumed possession of this particular vice had been what had driven the love of his life to refuse him. Not only had she turned down his offer of marriage, Miss Elizabeth Bennet had gone so far as to point out his every flaw. But he had simply told the truth, harsh as it was. She was inferior in station and fortune. Her parents and younger sisters were the cause of embarrassment, while the elder sister was a cold, calculating fortune hunter. How was such a revelation of novelty? As for the accusations of impropriety on the reputation of their mutual acquaintance George Wickham, well that was more than justified. One did not exactly shout to the world that a scoundrel had tried to seduce their sister. Keeping that secret was hardly a flaw! Was it his fault that Lydia Bennet was an idiot? No, poor parenting was to blame. Despite all of this, he had offered Elizabeth his home, financial security and love, for he did love her, despite great misgivings as to the connection a marriage would form. And for that, she had treated him with scorn… mocked his offer.

  “You claim to love me but have insulted me beyond compare and ruined the happiness of my sister. I will never marry you,” she had said.

  The words still rang in his ears, as did the guilt for his interference. But that had been corrected. A hasty marriage had been arranged between Wickham and Lydia, with the removal of the troublesome pair to Newcastle. If that was not enough, he had admitted his wrongdoing to Charles Bingley and encouraged his renewed pursuit of Jane Bennet. Now, he stood ready to stand by and wish happiness on Elizabeth’s sister, as the engagement between Charles Bingley and Jane Bennet would be announced that very evening. He had been terribly wrong about Jane, but what was one to believe when a young lady does not show affection? Was that not the way? In his experience, ladies were all too often overzealous in their display of attachments. With no money, and four younger sisters, it was only logical to warn Charles of a possible misjudgment. However, it had been he who had erred in judgement. Not only was Jane Bennet the purest of souls, her younger sister Elizabeth was the rarest of women. She defied all conventions, teased him mercilessly, and stood up for her convictions. For that, he had lost his heart, despite the warnings of his head. At first, he had been shocked by the vehemence of her refusal. The apparent foolishness of her decision to discard his offer quickly sparked a flare of anger. Who did she think she was to turn down any marriage proposal? A woman in her position should have been flattered to be chosen by a man of his consequence, but not Elizabeth Bennet! It was only normal to feel the sting of rejection, but that had quickly passed. By the time he had arrived back at his rooms, the emotion had simmered to a searing pain. Despite this, he had somehow managed to take up a pen and profess the rationale behind his actions. He had not been the sole party to be guilty of judging without knowledge. Elizabeth Bennet held just as much fault as he. Pride did not keep him apart from society, acute shyness and poor conversation skills in the company of those he did not know were the culprits. She had judged him unfairly, and he would tell her so. Elizabeth Bennet would rue the day she had refused Fitzwilliam Darcy!

  Now, despite being nearly a month after the disastrous proposal, he stood unready to face her. Would their meeting be one of cordiality? Or, would it be cold, but polite, as expected of relative strangers? Unfortunately, they were not strangers and could not erase the past. With a marriage between Elizabeth’s sister and his closest friend, their meetings would be regular and of small company. He could not avoid her presence forever. Worse yet, eventually she would marry and the loss would be permanent. He too must marry, and soon. Nearing the age of thirty, it was past time that he did his duty to ensure the continuation of the Darcy line and pass on the legacy of Pemberley. If Miss Elizabeth Bennet did not want him, surely there were a hundred others that did, and he would make sure that she knew exactly what had been lost.

  Straightening his neckcloth one last time, Darcy practiced a variety of expressions and poses. He would appear unaffected and at ease, even if it took every ounce of strength he possessed. Perhaps, if there were dancing, he would ask Kitty Bennet or Maria Lucas for a turn or two. Wouldn’t that set the tongues wagging? Giving into spiteful behavior was unbecoming, but Elizabeth would never see the heartache he still felt every time her name was said. Going below, Darcy entered the reception hall just after the Bennet family arrived. It did ease the possibility of a well witnessed confrontation, doing much to boost his confidence. Striding over to where she stood in conversation with two ladies he did not know, Darcy bowed stiffly and smiled broadly.

  “Hello, Elizabeth, I trust you are well? It has been far too long, has it not?” he asked sardonically with an arch of a brow.

  The expression, out of character, had the desired effect of producing a puzzled look from Miss Bennet that left her speechless. For once, he had caught her completely off guard. The unexpected pleasure of the action filled him with regret, but it was too late to retract what had been set in motion. Bowing as Elizabeth struggled to reply, he quickly turned away, leaving her to her own thoughts. It had been extremely rude, and should have been satisfying. Unfortunately, instead of pleasure, Darcy only felt his heart pain him all the more.

  ~Two~

  Longbourn, several hours later….

  Elizabeth Bennet brushed out her sister Jane’s golden hair as the eldest Bennet sister glowed with happiness. Recalling the events of the evening, it was impossible to believe that just a few months earlier, the expectation of Jane’s engagement to Charles Bingley had been all but lost.

  “I feel as if I am walking in some sort of dream, waiting to be woken only to find it all gone,” Jane whispered, but she was indeed awake, and despite her elation, was keenly worried about Elizabeth. The normally lively and talkative young woman had been unnaturally silent. Something was bothering her, but Jane, always conscious of the feelings of others, hesitated to pry. It was only when she noticed the slight glisten of tears that she dared to voice an inquiry.

  “Lizzie dearest…you have hardly said a word. I trust this is due to seeing Mr. Darcy again? Was it truly so terrible?”

  Jane Bennet was the sole person who knew of Mr. Darcy’s proposal and Elizabeth’s reason for refusal. Yet, in her complete goodness, Jane had not placed a single thread of blame on him for Charles’ hesitation to marry her. Instead, she had agreed that time apart had only made the eventual offer all the more reassuring. Charles truly loved her, and took marriage seriously. If only Elizabeth could have the same happiness. Taking the brush from her hands, Jane waited for a reply, as Elizabeth stared off at some fixed unknown point.

  “It was worse than I ever imagined. He behaved so strangely out of character… cold, yet arrogant.”

  “But Lizzie, is that not what you disliked about him? … well that, and calling me a fortune seeker!”

  Jane attempted humor, but it was lost upon her sister. There was no denying that they were without a cent in dowry, but Jane had never been one to care so much about money. If love presented in the meanest economic state, she would have eagerly grasped at the opportunity. However, theirs was a strange predicament. Men of lower stations did not offer marriage to gentlemen’s daughters. In fact, they hardly spoke a word aside from a polite greeting. Unless one of the Bennet women were reduced to taking some sort of post for wages, they must wait for a gentleman of means to appear.

  “It is… that is, it was… but that was before I knew him. But tonight, he was another person entirely. It was as if he deliberately was trying to hurt me. Before… it was accidental.”

  “I am not sure what you mean, but if it will ease your distress, I can ask Charles to exclude Darcy from social events where you will be.”

  “Oh no! That would only make it worse, if I am to get past this awkwardness it can only be done by appearing that he does not affect me in any way. Eventually, it will be so in fact if not in façade.”

  “If you are sure…”

  “I am. I refused his offer and cannot expect it to be put forward again. We must both move on. Besides, he is Charles’ friend, and like family, one must tolerate those persons with congeniality.”

  “Now you sound like me! Perhaps if you were to view Mr. Darcy in the same light as Mr. Collins it would be easier?” Jane suggested with a smile.

  “I shall try.
Why do all of my potential Prince Charming’s turn into frogs?” Elizabeth asked, sending them both into a fit of laughter, but it was short lived.

  Sighing, Elizabeth began brushing her sister’s hair once again. Jane was only teasing, but the comparison between a handsome, wealthy landowner and their pudgy, simpering cousin was not to be made. Elizabeth smiled, but her thoughts were filled with an emotion far from humor. She was now twenty-one years old and had refused two offers of marriage. The prospect of remaining unmarried seemed to loom precariously overhead. By twenty-three, many a young lady was considered near spinsterhood, especially if they had no fortune. Was she destined for a life alone… or worse, as caretaker of her parents? Papa was a wonderful and caring man, he would never insist she wed without affection, but people did not live forever. If her father died, his entire estate would go to Mr. Collins, a man she had already refused. What would become of her then? Having no great education or particular accomplishment, marriage was the only viable option.

  ~Three~

  Darcy sat alone in the Netherfield library. With a double brandy slowly going stale in his hands, he watched the remnants of a fire pop in the grate. The coals still burned brightly, casting shadows about the chamber as he brooded. The engagement party for Charles and Jane had seemed go on without end, the words of congratulation only served to remind him of what could have been. Even when the last guest had gone, and the household went quiet, the abyss of sleep eluded him. Rising in defeat, Darcy went below to the solitude of a favorite place and poured himself a drink. He had hoped to erase the vison of Elizabeth Bennet, but drowning himself in drink was not the answer. After he so abruptly left her standing in the hall, he had tried to enjoy himself by participating in the dancing. Unfortunately, every partner only served as a pale comparison. Out of the corner of his eye, he had watched her smile and converse with the guests. Now, every time he closed his eyes, her form stood wavering before him, eyes twinkling with mischief. Clearly, she was not suffering any pangs of longing for him.

  “I would be pleased to accept the next dance,” he mimicked aloud, remembering how her face had lit up with the offer from a man he did not recognize. The act, had propelled him to request the same from the nearest free lady. Unfortunately, that had been Caroline Bingley. Of late, Caroline seemed to be everywhere he turned, following him about as a puppy did a small child. He knew she harbored a belief that a marriage between them was possible, but despite his friendship with Charles, Caroline had never been even remotely appealing. Oh, she was beautiful enough, and was accomplished in all that a lady should, but there was always something slightly sinister about her. It was as if she were some sort of changeling out of a fairy tale, perfect in public spheres, only to transform into a hideous beast in private. The thought was uncharitable, but nevertheless, he could not elude the feeling. Caroline’s casual observations of others were only shrouded barbs of jealousy. Even before he had ever entertained the idea of marrying Elizabeth, long before the pain of love had possessed him, Caroline had found fault with everything Elizabeth did. It had only been right to defend her.

  “Elizabeth…. what have you done to me?” he whispered to the tiny flame that still flickered in defiance of the dying fire.

  “Darcy? Talking to yourself? Someone might think you mad…”

  Turning sharply in surprise, Darcy’s eyes narrowed in the gloom. Was he to never have a private moment? Standing in the doorway, clad in her dressing gown, was the sorceress herself. What respectable lady wandered about dressed so when there were guests in residence? Resisting the urge to snap at her in irritation, Darcy tried to be cordial, but his voice betrayed his emotions.

  “Go to bed Caroline. It is late,” he said without rising. Preferring to focus on the glass before him, Darcy ignored her presence, taking a long draught, draining the amber liquid. Unfortunately, his lack of attention did not have the desired effect. Instead of leaving as she should, Darcy soon felt her hands upon his shoulders, pressing into the knots that had formed in the muscles of his neck. The feeling was immediately soothing, especially when mixed with the warmth of the brandy. Eliciting an involuntary sigh of pleasure, Darcy knew that other man would be pleased by the attentions, but warning bells clanged loudly in his head. Caroline was playing a dangerous game, and it was one in which he wished no part. Standing, he took her by the wrists, pushing her away.

  “No Caroline… do not touch me ever again.”

  “I was just trying to offer some comfort. A man does not drink alone in the library unless he is distressed…” she replied with a petulant pout forming on her lips.

  “I am quite well, I assure you. Now, I suggest you leave before someone sees you.”

  “Who would see me? Everyone is asleep but us. That is a miracle in itself, Mr. Bennet snores loud enough to wake the dead, if not the entire wing. I don’t see why Jane’s parents had to stay here when they live but three miles away. At least at that distance no one at Netherfield would be disturbed.”

  Darcy held his tongue, organizing his thoughts before replying. Even now, Caroline could not resist insulting others.

  “Well, I suggest you invest in earmuffs. I suspect that after Charles and Jane are wed, the Bennets will be regular visitors.”

  “Do not remind me. Jane’s sisters are hard enough to bear, especially Eliza,” she replied, reaching out a finger to stroke his chin where the hours had allowed for the rough growth of new beard.

  Jerking away, Darcy gave her a sharp look, but did not reply. Taking this silence as encouragement, Caroline placed a hand on his chest, toying with a button where it was undone, exposing fine hairs upon the muscle.

  “I said no, Caroline….”

  Darcy’s words were flat, unrevealing of the emotions that warred inside him. He was no innocent, but had never been one to indulge in this sort of sport with one who’s expectations were more than a single encounter. Caroline Bingley played for much higher stakes.

  “So… it is Eliza Bennet that possesses your reason…. If it were her and not me…would you be so hesitant? I think not, but it is no secret that she despises you… rejected you.”

  “What would you know of that?”

  “Oh, let us just say that my brother… dear man that he is… has great difficulty holding his tongue sometimes.”

  Hurt that Charles would discuss a private matter with his sister, Darcy felt betrayed, but it passed quickly. Caroline had a way of manipulating people and twisting gossip to suit herself.

  “Whatever I may or may not have had with Miss Bennet is none of your concern… as a matter of fact Caroline, nothing I do is your business, not now… not ever.”

  With this retort, Darcy drank down the dregs of his glass and left Caroline standing alone. He was in poor enough mood as it was and did not want to engage in any sort of banter at this hour. Striding past the hall clock, he noticed that it was nearing five in the morning. Soon, the house would be humming with movement as the servants went about their daily tasks. He was not about to be observed in any proximity to Caroline in her current state of undress or otherwise. Darcy had been a houseguest to the Bingley’s for years and knew the family’s habits nearly as well as his own. Caroline Bingley did not rise before mid-morning. Even if the house was afire, she would insist upon not being disturbed. To be prowling about at this hour was strange indeed.

  “That woman is up to something… and it will not be me,” Darcy vowed, and took the main stair two at a time. Suddenly he was fatigued with a great intensity and just wanted to sleep. It was upon this quest that he did not notice the pair of eyes that watched his movements, curious to know what motivated such a hurry. Waiting until Darcy was out of sight, Mrs. Bennet crept from her hiding place and peered over the railing down into the hall. Finding it empty, she shrugged and prepared to return to her chamber, but the sound of a woman’s laughter halted her steps. Emerging from the library, the form of Caroline Bigley, clad in her nightclothes, elicited a gasp of shock.

  “Miss Bingley and Mr. Darcy… my, my…I would have never guessed,”