A Shade in His Character

Elizabeth sat at her vanity in her townhouse, staring into the looking glass. She was dressed in her nightgown and her hair hung loosely about her shoulders. It was her wedding night. She had imagined she would feel very nervous, but she was calm. She trusted her husband implicitly and she felt safe with him and confident in his love for her. Their attachment was open, honest and pure and would secure her happiness till the end of her days. She was fluttering with anticipation but she was not nervous, she knew there was nothing to fear. She heard a light knock on the door and smiled at her reflection. Before she had a chance to respond, the door adjoining her bedroom to her husband's opened and the man she adored walked in, closing it behind him. She stood to greet him, blushing becomingly, with a smile that spoke of the warmth and strength of her devotion; her fine eyes glistening with unshed tears of joy.

When Darcy beheld her, he smiled but he made no move towards her. She approached him with the intent of finding herself embraced within his arms as had occurred so many times during their engagement. When she was close enough, he grabbed one of her arms and pulled her close to him to kiss her fiercely. As he did so, he moved towards the bed pushing her backwards as he went. When she reached the edge of the bed, she sat down on it. She smiled up at him and said playfully, "Fitzwilliam, you must be more gentle, my love."

He simply threw back his head and laughed, but it was a hollow, bitter laugh devoid of mirth. "Gentle?" he asked in a sinister voice. "You wish me to be gentle? How gentle were you with me last April? Or have you forgotten, Elizabeth, that I am no gentleman?"

He moved very close to her and stood in front of her, straddling her knees with his legs. Elizabeth gasped. "Fitzwilliam, please do not speak so."

"Nay," he continued as if she had not spoken, "you will get no gentility from me, Wife. I intend to show you exactly how ungentlemanlike my manner can be." He pushed her back onto the bed. He leaned over her and kissed her mouth again, but his kiss was hard and cold and tasted heavily of liquor. Then he drew back his face, still leaning over hers, and looked at her. "You did not think that performance was going to last, did you?"

"What performance?" she asked trembling.

He made a mocking voice as he repeated, "you taught me a lesson, dearest, loveliest Elizabeth."

She gasped again and tried to turn to the side, "please release me."

He continued to ignore her words. "Did you think you could get away with treating me as you did? Did you think you were better than me? That I should humble myself before the likes of you? You had nothing, I offered you everything, and you scorned me with your self-righteous acrimony. You should have fallen to your knees in gratitude." She began to push him but he took her arms and pinned them over her head. "You are my wife now, Mrs. Darcy, I may do with you as I will, and I intend to exact my revenge. Now you will know what it is to learn that the one you love hates you."

"No, you would not have married me if you hated me. You would not waste your own life."

"It is no waste, Elizabeth, you will produce an heir and when I have had enough of your impertinence, you will be discovered in a very disgraceful position. I will graciously find a suitable situation for you and live out my days finding comfort and solace wherever it pleases me to do so."

She looked at him in horror. "What is the matter with you, how can you speak so?"

He laughed again and pressed his weight on her further. "My performance must have been very convincing indeed for you to still have faith in my goodness. Will it help you to learn that I began planning this even as I left the parsonage that night?"

He stood up, and she made to run from the room but he blocked her path and pushed her back onto the bed. He stood in front of her and said, "my entire letter to you was designed to begin planting the seeds of doubt in your mind so that I could win your favor and eventually make you love me. The truth of the matter is that I knew your sister cared for Bingley but I believed at the time that I wanted him to marry Georgiana. Although his fortune was made in trade, he is easy to control - an ideal brother in law to be sure. Once I found a better candidate for my sister in town, I had no further use for him, except to serve my own purposes. Soon, Bingley will discover irrefutable evidence of your sister's infidelity and if he does not divorce her, they will at least be miserable." He began to pace before her as he continued speaking. She was too frightened to make another attempt to flee, and she knew it would be futile to do so.

"As for Wickham," he laughed again, "he would have made a marvelous parson, but I had my own agenda for Kympton and I certainly was not going to assist a man who my father had loved above his own proper heir. My father betrayed me many years before he died, so my betrayal of his dying wishes was nothing. Of course, Wickham's elopement with your sister was an unexpected stroke of luck. When I found them at Mrs. Younge's house - who, by the way, was relieved of duty as Georgiana's governess because she would not succumb to my advances - they were already married and your silly sister wished only to wait to go home until he had purchased her a proper ring." Elizabeth gasped. "When I told her she could have a ring and new clothes if she participated in another, more formal, ceremony, she readily agreed. Everything about their elopement in your aunt's letter was made up by me and told to the Gardiners. And as for them, you could not really think I would befriend such people, could you?"

"But Georgiana . . ." she began.

Darcy laughed again. "Wickham happened on Georgiana quite by accident in Ramsgate, nothing happened between them other than a brief conversation acknowledging their connection. Wickham, by the way, will be relieved of duty within the month and he will find it very difficult to earn an income. The Wickhams will live forever in squalor and poverty. Mr. Collins too will be relieved of his living so that your beloved friend will have to scrimp and save until Longbourn becomes available. When your father dies, the Collinses will have no choice but to turn out your family immediately. They will not find a home at Pemberley and I doubt even Bingley would welcome the low born and ill-bred relations of his cheating wife." By then he was standing before her again, and she stood from the bed. She raised her hand to slap him, but he grabbed her wrist in mid-air and pushed her back down onto the bed. He smiled, "ah, there is that liveliness that bewitched me so." He towered over her as he continued, "Even our meeting at Pemberley was no accident, Elizabeth. And, I should tell you, that your Uncle Gardiner's business will soon fail. He will be caught up in a dreadful scandal, leaving his family in poverty. No interference was necessary with the Phillipses; I learned quite by accident that the law practice is not quite as prosperous as one might hope. So you see, Elizabeth, I have planned everything perfectly. You will be miserable and everyone you care for will be miserable."

"But they are your relations now too, their ruin will reflect badly on you as well."

"Only insomuch as I will be made to regret my choice of wife, as everyone predicted. I shall undoubtedly garner the pity of many of the ladies in my own social circle."

With that, Darcy smiled triumphantly as he pushed her backwards onto the bed and again trapped her in place with his own body. He kissed her roughly as he began pulling up her skirts . . .

Elizabeth jerked awake, breathing heavily and sweating. She immediately perceived Darcy looking at her with a concerned expression. He was leaning towards her from his seat across the carriage. "I am so glad you have awoken," he said, in obvious relief. "You seemed to be having a terrible dream and I could not rouse you." She was trembling, and still breathing erratically. He had both of her hands in his own and moved even closer to her. As he did, she cowered away from him. "Elizabeth, are you quite all right?"

She breathed deeply, removed her hands from his, and tried to regain her composure. "My dream, . . . it was horrible."

"That much is clear, my love," he said stroking her face. She seemed uncomfortable when he touched her so he leaned back in his seat again. "Do you wish to speak of it?"

Elizabeth had calmed down significantly and began to feel comfortable again. She was about to tell him of her dream, but when she looked at him she realized that this night would be her wedding night. For some reason, she recalled his words at Netherfield so long ago, "My temper I dare not vouch for. It is, I believe, too little yielding - certainly too little for the convenience of the world. I cannot forget the follies and vices of others so soon as I ought, nor their offences against myself. My feelings are not puffed about with every attempt to move them. My temper would perhaps be called resentful. My good opinion once lost is lost forever." An uneasy feeling grew inside her. Elizabeth's dream had caused her to lose faith in her husband and she reproached herself for succumbing to her fears, but she decided against revealing them. "I do not recall," she said evenly.

Later that evening, Elizabeth was sitting at her vanity in her townhouse, dressed in her nightgown with her hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, looking at her pale reflection in the glass while her nerves churned within her as she recalled her dream in vivid detail. She started when she heard a knock on her bedroom door . . . .

*cue sinister music*