Obligation and Redemption: an alternative journey through Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice, page 1
Obligation
and
Redemption
An alternative journey through
Jane Austen’s
Pride and Prejudice
Georgia McCall
AlterConte Publishers
alterconte@mindspring.com
Memphis, TN 38111
USA
This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and inspired by, and joined with, the writings of Jane Austen in the story of Pride and Prejudice. Any similarities to actual persons or events are purely a result of the authors’ imaginations.
This work, or any parts thereof, with the exception of Jane Austen’s own writing found in short excerpts throughout the text, may not be copied, reproduced or transmitted in any form, or by any means; electronic, mechanical or otherwise without express prior written permission from the author.
Cover design by Dianne McCaulla and Carolyn Vaughn.
Scripture quotations are from The Holy Bible, English Standard Version ® (ESV®), copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers. Used by permission. All rights reserved.
Additional quotes obtained from public domain.
Copyright © 2016
Georgia McCall
All rights reserved
ISBN-10: 1523347791
ISBN-13: 978-1523347797
Note from the Author
It is a truth not so universally acknowledged that a sinful man, in need of redemption, must be in want of a Saviour. However little known the understanding or views of such a man may be on this privation, this truth is so well fixed in the Holy Writ, that he is considered the rightful property of the One who destines to fulfil that need, no matter the trials and tribulations which might bring such an extraordinary happening about. Of course, the means of securing such a fixed arrangement can come in many forms, and regrettably oftentimes such forms consign the object to misery and despair before a more blessed outcome might be realised. Such is the case of Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire. That a woman of inferior birth, little recognised beauty and with no apparent accomplishments to recommend herself, could bring about such a miraculous, yet precedented, happening should in no way be minimised or diminished in the telling. Elizabeth Claire Bennet, of Longbourn, in Hertfordshire finds herself in the unexpected yet coveted position of being the agent of reducing the proud man, so that he might be regenerated as one full of hope and humility. If you find yourself in the category of one who would not wish to acknowledge the plight in which our hero finds himself, do not be dismayed, for the telling of such a remarkable event holds many diversions and pleasures of its own accord. However, for the reader who might find some connection with our characters’ condition, out of a similar experience or understanding, be reminded yet again of our great need, no matter outward appearances. And for the reader who discovers the exquisiteness and grace of transformation into the realm of the faithful,
Soli Deo Gloria.
The greatest happiness of life is the conviction that we are loved; loved for ourselves, or rather, loved in spite of ourselves.
Victor Hugo
Chapter One
Do nothing from rivalry or conceit,
but in humility count others more significant than yourselves.
Let each of you look not only to his own interests,
but also to the interests of others.
Philippians 2:3-4
Although dawn, the sky remained black as storm clouds quickly invaded the awakening countryside. Fitzwilliam Darcy urged his mount to an even quicker pace as he attempted to race the storm. Lightning had been flashing in the distance as he skilfully steered Hermes, his black Arabian, through the woodland along the leaf-covered path.
Darcy had guessed, upon setting out, that he had about an hour before the storm clouds would overtake him, and he meant to make the most of that time. He had relieved his mind of all thought, except the path before him and the exhilaration that came from a brisk pace on the back of his spirited mount. He was himself while unaccompanied, without the need to perform or succumb to the expectations of others. Darcy could feel the escalating cold air sting his face but rejoiced in the sensation. He could forget his sister’s near ruin and subsequent pain; he could escape from conniving mothers and daughters; he could forget his own feelings of loneliness and his expected pending courtship. When riding, he was liberated.
Darcy urged his mount faster and had just come around a bend when he saw a sudden flash of colour. By instinct, he squeezed his legs tighter and steered Hermes off the pathway. Just then, a flash of light lit his surroundings and sent a tingling sensation coursing through his body, but he did not have time to consider his danger as his world turned upside down, and true darkness enveloped him.
Later, Darcy would have vague recollections of the following few hours of that transformative day. The pain was immense, as he would open his eyes periodically to take in his location. He knew he was being dragged slowly underneath a canopy of trees blown forcefully overhead. The pain in his ankle surged with each rock or root that dared to get in his way. But that was nothing compared with the relentless throbbing in the back of his head that threatened additional episodes of spinning followed by retching as he was pulled along.
Initially, Darcy thought that he was alone – that the transgressor who startled his horse along the pathway had succumbed to his stallion’s ferocity. But he soon understood this was not the case. Darcy knew someone, or perhaps several, were moving him through the woods, whose mercy he, perforce, depended upon; he just hoped that his guardians wished him no harm. At intervals, when he opened his eyes, he would feel a surge of nausea overtake him, so that he could only take in the conflicting sounds and smells of his journey. Occasionally, he would get a scent of flowers sometimes followed by a woman’s voice, reminding him of the woman he was to marry. He supposed that he must have been dreaming as his mind sought an escape from his suffering.
In his recumbent position, the rain fell hard upon his face, sometimes making breathing difficult, while the chill of the blustery wind blew against his frame, causing him to shiver as the journey to nowhere incessantly persisted. Minutes passed, or possibly hours, during his journey when nothing but a blur of pain mixed with nausea and misery consumed his conscious thoughts.
Darcy awoke to a dimly lit room with dark walls. He knew for certain that a woman, whom he vaguely recognised, was caring for him; her hands were gentle and her voice calming as she worked to soothe his aches. She spoke kindly to him as she changed the dressing on his head. She had tried to solicit a response about something having to do with the dreadful cold, but he could only imagine his words, being unable to rouse enough to be present to the task. He wondered where the others had gone and hoped he and the woman had not been left alone – a situation he had always stringently avoided.
Without clarity, Darcy would later remember his guardian assisting him onto a bed or cot of some sort and soliciting his help. The pain in his head and ankle was intense, so he cursed out loud, retching yet again with the movement. The indignity of his condition was lost on the misery he felt. If the room would stop spinning, he could assess his predicament, but as it was, he just wanted peace, quiet and warmth. He could handle any discomfort from his ankle, if his head would just stop pounding. The calming effect of her ministrations soothed him back to the land of Morpheus, which was fortunate, as it spared him from another episode of retching.
The next thing that Darcy recalled, however, stayed with him. He had been sleeping, but heard a rustling as he awoke. He opened his eyes and thought that he must have met his end and an angel was before him, dressed in white, with a glow from behind. He tried to focus as the fuzzy haze cleared into a distinct picture of exquisiteness. Before him, not five feet away, was a woman in nothing but her chemise stuck to her frame, showing her shape and curves to perfection. He could clearly see her abundant assets, as he could not pull his eyes away from her. He must have unconsciously made a sound with his sharp intake of breath because she abruptly turned around to gaze at him. He had attempted to turn away quickly, but that only made him more dizzy and confused, and he had to reach up to cover his eyes. She said something, which he answered in the negative without comprehending her words. Darcy was of course mortified that he had nearly been caught staring at her. Could she have known how alluring she was in the wet chemise? Was that her design, to seduce him into a compromising position?
Now that he looked back on the encounter, he understood that that must have been exactly what she had been doing. Her curves would have been intoxicating had he been well enough to appreciate them. Her wet hair had cascaded down to the spot just above the lower curve of her back, drawing his eye to her round bottom. He could just see her breasts through the thin, wet garment. He could not have imagined a more delightful sight, howbeit brief. That vision would haunt his waking and slumbering dreams for many nights to come. But no matter how lovely she was, he could not, and would not, be lured into this nobody’s lair. Many more beautiful women had attempted a seduction of him, and no one had been successful.
Focusing on something other than the woman before him, his eyes landed on his coat hanging on a hook by the fire. In an inst ant Darcy came to realise that he himself was in a state of undress. She had been undressing him! This woman had laid hands upon his person and removed his clothes! He began to fumble under the blanket and was relieved to feel that his shirt and pants were still on, if somewhat damp, which was likely why he still shivered despite being by the fire and under a blanket. This woman, whoever she was, had thought that she could force a compromise and coerce a marriage with him. That was certain never to happen. He had enough money to get himself out of any scrape that might come his way, and he would not succumb to her contrivances. She may have the body to seduce, but he would not fall prey to her purposes. His head was pounding as his pulse raced in outrage. The exertion was exhausting to his body, weakened by blood loss and physical stress.
Being cold slowed down his senses and ability to stay awake; therefore, he gave in to sleep, fitfully at first, but then deeply as his body attempted to escape the pain. Darcy did worry about what this woman might do while he slept but could do nothing to stop her deeds.
THE STORM CLOUDS WERE WELL TO THE WEST when Elizabeth Bennet set out on her daily walk. Although, the temperatures had been unseasonably warm over the past week, at well above the average for October, a cold breeze had begun to stir the night before. She was anxious to put on her walking boots and take in the landscape surrounding her country home in Hertfordshire. She had been unable, in recent days, to partake in her customary routine of walking at dawn along the grounds of Longbourn, and willingly faced the possibility of rain in order to work out her pent up energy in active pursuits.
As the clouds grew more ominous, Elizabeth was lost in thought. Her eyes stayed to the ground, so she would not trip as she walked within a less-travelled part of her father’s estate. The leaves had begun their descent onto the woodland bed, so the ground was a carpet of reds, browns and yellows. “Such beauty, such joys!” she exclaimed without restraint. As a wood nymph, she glided down the lane, occasionally reaching down and tossing up a handful of leaves. Autumn was her delight, and not even the exceptionally cold wind that had begun to blow in force could mar her spirits.
When Elizabeth noticed that she was some distance from home, and that the clouds might break soon, she picked up her pace in the direction of the house and began to run down the path. This is just what she needed. She laughed in transport as she attempted to race the storm to come.
The thunder had made a gradual approach but was now all around. Elizabeth was becoming concerned as she finally looked up to the sky through an opening in the trees and saw blackness, well past the time for sunrise. The darkness had now changed the foliage to a dull colour, and she began to worry that she would not make it home before getting wet, as she was still some distance away. This would not be the first time she found herself deep in the woods when a storm developed, but it would be the first in some years, and she did not relish being wet and cold, nor did she look forward to her mother’s reproof.
At a running pace, Elizabeth was just rounding a bend, when a tall, black horse nearly trampled her. She tempestuously screamed, and just at that moment lightning struck a tree not one hundred yards away. The immense horse reared as the rider attempted to avert her position, throwing the man to the ground. Unfortunately the rider’s left foot was caught in the stirrup, so when the horse bolted, he was dragged over the rough terrain some distance into the woods before his foot was freed when his mount reared again.
This all happened within a moment. Elizabeth, being a sensible woman, ran to the gentleman, whom she recognised to be their new neighbour’s guest, Mr. Darcy. He was already bleeding steadily from his head, which alarmed her greatly. Elizabeth called his name, but he remained mostly unresponsive. She knew she had to stop the bleeding, so she tore two large strips of fabric from the bottom of her petticoat, one to roll into a bandage and the other to secure to his head. This took her some time to accomplish, and by now the rain had started coming down, first a few drops that soon turned into a downpour.
Elizabeth considered running home to seek help, but knew her father would not allow her back out into the dangerous storm; he would send a missive to the estate where the man had resided the past week, but the delay could prove disastrous for Mr. Darcy. Elizabeth could go straight to Netherfield Park herself, which was about the same distance as her home, but in the opposite direction; however, like with her own father, she doubted that she could sufficiently describe Mr. Darcy’s location and would likely be required to stay behind like a proper lady, thus increasing Mr. Darcy’s peril.
The lightning and gusts of wind demanded that she remove him to safety soon, but in the stress of the moment Elizabeth could not bring to mind any shelters nearby, as remote as they were. Then she recalled her father’s hunting lodge that had been without use for quite some time. They were a fair distance from where it stood, if her memory served her, and she would have to consider whether going through the woods would be the most expedient way, or if she should follow the path. The woods could cut the distance in half, but the difficulties in traversing uneven terrain may not be worth the effort.
Elizabeth again attempted to wake the unconscious man, who moaned periodically but did not open his eyes. She looked around for his horse, somehow hoping that its presence might prove beneficial, but it was long gone. She would have to somehow get him there herself. Even if the lightning and strong winds were not a threat, staying out in the cold rain was. Since she had left the house, the temperature had dropped significantly and continued to fall as the showers came down hard around them. She said a quick prayer and attempted to hoist him from under his shoulders. Elizabeth had never touched a man, other than her father, outside of the necessities of dancing and greetings. She had not noticed how large Mr. Darcy was, until she tried lifting him. She concluded that the move would be more difficult than she had anticipated. We will have to take a more direct path, I’m afraid.
Before moving him, she decided to check the passage she planned to take to ensure that she remembered the area correctly and that there were no obvious obstacles along the way. The rain was coming down in sheets by now, making her short journey more difficult, but she finally did see the cabin and realised it was closer than she had originally thought.
Elizabeth wasted no time in returning to the man who was still unconscious. The sound of the rain was only superseded by blustering winds, swaying the trees dangerously overhead. She heard a loud crash in the near distance that shook the ground underneath her. The darkness and rain made it impossible to see the cause, but she suspected her danger, moving all the more quickly. When she reached her charge, she eyed him warily, attempting to figure how she could move a man nearly twice her size that far away. “Mr. Darcy, sir, I am going to get us to safety,” said Elizabeth as she stooped low and put her arms under each of his shoulders, trying to lift him enough to shift him into the needed direction. She planned to walk backwards while holding him up, thereby gradually making their way to the cabin; however, now she doubted her ability to move him anywhere.
After little progress was made with her first effort, Elizabeth reconsidered the options of waiting out the storm or leaving the man in order to seek help, but in the end felt uncomfortable with the idea of either. They were a good ways from both Longbourn and Netherfield, and the storm around them was quite severe. She determined that she must do her best to try to move him to safety and leave the rest in the hands of Providence. If Elizabeth eventually found the task impossible, she would then consider alternatives. As it was, she was growing cold and knew that Mr. Darcy, who was not exerting himself, would be feeling even colder. They needed shelter, and it would seem that she was the only one who could get them there.
She attempted to lift him again and was able to take two steps. She immediately tried again, gaining three more. She continued on in this manner across the forest floor aiming towards the cabin hidden in the woods. Elizabeth tripped and fell several times along the route and had never felt more fatigued as she was during their journey to safety. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she resisted letting them fall; she was wet enough and refused to add to the deluge any more than was already streaming down her face. Frustration had found her and mocked the pride she had always placed on her adeptness while in the open air. Elizabeth had never wished for the robustness of a man, until now.
