Smoky Dreams

by Jaeza Rayleigh

  Smoky Dreams

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  Contents

  Contents

  Foreward:

  Chapter 1: Awakening

  Chapter 2: Betrayal?

  Chapter 3: A Visit to Longbourn

  Chapter 4: Confounded

  Chapter 5: Villains

  Chapter 6: Making Amends

  Chapter 7: Sisters

  Chapter 8: Offers of Aid

  Chapter 9: Books and Dinners

  Chapter 10: A Serious Discussion

  Chapter 11: Miss Bingley Strikes Again

  Chapter 12: Snowstorm

  Chapter 13: Recovery

  Chapter 14: Agreement

  Chapter 15: Chess and Conversation

  Chapter 16: Dancing and Decorum

  Chapter 17: A Death in the Family

  Chapter 18: Mistaken Impressions

  Chapter 19: A Courtship?

  Chapter 20: Necessary Settlements

  Chapter 21: A Letter Encoded

  Chapter 22: Legal Arrangements

  Chapter 23: Of Weddings and Arrivals

  Chapter 24: Introductions

  Chapter 25: Dreams and Discussions

  Chapter 26: Lady Catherine

  Chapter 27: His Story Repeats Itself

  Chapter 28: Misdirections

  Chapter 29: Anne

  Chapter 30: A Good Morning

  Chapter 31: Trip It as Ye Go

  Chapter 32: Recovering from the Indignities

  Chapter 33: Departure in the Snow

  Chapter 34: Discovered

  Chapter 35: Of Weddings and New Beginnings

  Chapter 36: Epilogue

  Foreward:

  What if Darcy began to change his ways much sooner than in canon? What if he realized long before Hunsford that he had been mistaken about Miss Bennet’s regard for his friend and his own advice? Can he untangle the problems he has created and change on his own, guided by his dreams? Or will he need all the help he can get?

  ~*~

  Driving in to work one morning, as the sun rose red in a sky filled with smoke from nearby forest fires, it struck me that the skies of Regency-era London would always look like that from the sheer volume of coal burned there daily. Hard on the heels of that thought came an image of Darcy standing at his bedroom window looking out as the sun rose. I pictured his home as facing a park or open space so that even though he would still see the sun rising over a line of buildings, the perspective would allow him to see it earlier than if he was directly facing other houses and it would still have that deep red color. From that image, this story grew, although it was originally simply a one-shot that I posted on fanfiction.net. Several of my readers asked me to take it beyond the first chapter. When I sat at the keyboard it seemed Darcy was amenable to telling me more of his story and so I listened and typed what I heard. Here you have it – the result of Darcy’s smoky dreams.

  ~*~

  This story is dedicated above all to my three biggest fans – my sister, my mother and my aunt – with thanks for all the loving encouragement. Additional thanks go out to all the readers on fanfiction.net who have posted comments and given me a reason to keep writing. I offer my wish for blessings and helpful dreams to you all!

  Chapter 1: Awakening

  Fitzwilliam Darcy groggily dragged himself from the bed. From the pale light seeping in around the window curtains, he knew it was later than his usual time, although most would still call it early. He habitually kept country hours in the morning, despite the need to keep town hours in the evening while in London. Even after a restless night filled with disturbing dreams, his body could not break the habit of a lifetime.

  Stretching his arms over his head, he tried to ease the ache in his shoulders. It had been another late night and he felt it in his muscles. Miss Bingley had convinced him to attend what turned out to be a seemingly-interminable dinner, all in the hope her brother would find some pretty face there to distract him from his infatuation with Miss Jane Bennet. That hope failed to materialize, as did her own undisguised hope Darcy would take the opportunity to propose to her. If Darcy had his way, the latter hope would never come true.

  The more he thought on it, the more frustrated Darcy was becoming, with Miss Bingley and with himself. Who were they to determine how and with whom Charles Bingley would be happy? Who was he to decide if Miss Bennet cared for his friend or would be swayed to marry him for his money by her mother? He had stated she did not care to prevent Bingley from returning, but that was based on the observations of only a few minutes here and there. Truth be told, his attention had generally been otherwise occupied and he hardly noticed Miss Bennet even when he intended to study her reactions.

  That was the salient point, after all; he had been otherwise occupied. Darcy groaned softly as he pulled on his dressing gown. The ache in his shoulders was still there and an ache in his head was joining it. He had to face the truth. He was pushing Bingley away from Miss Bennet for his own reasons. That was hardly the act of a friend. Darcy knew he would be furious and disgusted should someone else try to do the same to him. Shaking his head slightly, as if to clear his thoughts, Darcy was instead hit full force by what he had been trying to deny – he had been running away and using the excuse of protecting his friend to do so.

  Walking the few steps to the window, he drew back the curtains. The sun was just rising over the rooftops of the buildings across the square. It hung like a blood-red marble in the pall of coal smoke that was always a part of the London air, particularly on a cold December day like this one. There must have been a breeze to blow some of the heavy smoke away, though, because usually one could not even see this much of the sun through the haze. Dark stripes floated across the sky, wisps of cloud, or smoke trails from someone's chimney. It reminded him of the many troubled dreams that had followed him through the hours of the night.

  If he had still been at Netherfield in Hertfordshire, or at his home in Derbyshire, this sunrise would be different. By this time of the day the golden disc would be too bright to look at in the crisp country air. He leaned against the window frame, thinking about the difference in the light and the people, thinking about the dreams of the night just past.

  They had left the estate of Netherfield Park just three weeks before. Bingley went first, leaving early in the morning after the ball he had hosted on the 26th of November. He only intended to stay away for a few days, completing some important business with his solicitor before returning to either court or propose to Miss Jane Bennet. In the dull, red, morning light, Darcy admitted to himself that he knew Bingley was not merely infatuated. His friend's reaction to the lovely young woman was different from all the other times Darcy had seen him enamored of an "angel." Whatever Miss Bennet's sentiments might be, Bingley was surely in love.

  That had not mattered to Darcy at the time. Within hours after Bingley left, Miss Bingley decided to close up the house and follow her brother to town. She disapproved of Miss Bennet's status as the daughter of a country gentleman with neither fortune nor connections to further Miss Bingley's ambitions. There would be no marriage between them if she could help it. That she also wished to part Darcy from Miss Bennet's next youngest sister, Miss Elizabeth, was clear. Feeling the pull of a strong attraction to a woman he considered socially inferior, Darcy was equally eager to leave Miss Elizabeth Bennet behind. He had run from his own feelings and was now destroying his friend's hopes, and possibly the elder Miss Bennet's, to hide that fact from himself. Darcy groaned again as the realization fully set in.

  It was the dreams that had done it, he thought. Smoky, hazy and disturbing as the red light moving slowly higher in the sky outside, they illuminated the meanness in his spirit. Tangled and twisted though they were in his
mind, he still remembered enough of them. Smoke, yes, but very substantial smoke. He could hardly breathe with the thought of the images that now replayed themselves in his head.

  He had seen Miss Bennet, who usually smiled serenely, crying over a letter he knew was from Caroline Bingley. If the young woman's heart was not easily touched, as he had proclaimed, then why was she crying? He remembered that in the dream her eyes were edged with red the same color as the rising sun before him. Guilt stole his breath again, leaving him gasping and making his head ache more. If she was crying over Bingley's defection, then Darcy bore a large part of the blame. Bingley trusted him and had accepted the assertion that he was doing Miss Bennet a favor by not returning. Darcy had argued that if Bingley returned that would place her in a position where she would be forced by her mother to accept a proposal no matter what her feelings might be. However, what if her feelings were of love for his friend? Was he doing either of them a favor by parting them without having all the information?

  Like a wisp of smoke, another image from the dream floated across his inner sight. Miss Elizabeth - lovely and tempting Miss Elizabeth – stood behind Miss Bennet, glaring straight at him. There was no hint of her smile or the witty impertinence he had grown to admire. Her anger was evident, tinged with bright red like the sun. "How could you?" she demanded. "What has Jane ever done to harm you, that you would hurt her and cause Mr. Bingley to break her heart in this way? How would you feel if someone did this to your sister?"

  The dream had twisted then. He knew the answer to her question. Someone had broken his sister's heart. Yet he had let the villain get away unscathed. What kind of brother was he? Georgiana had asked him just that in his dream as Miss Elizabeth faded and instead his sister sat before him on the bench of her pianoforte. The keyboard was closed, and she rested her hands on the cover as she wept over the instrument.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked in a voice rough from crying. "Why? How could you think ignorance would protect me from a practiced liar? How did you expect me to know that he was using me to get at you?" Darcy had left her undefended, that was true. He had not been certain how to approach the subject of Wickham's proclivities with an innocent young woman and so had avoided any mention of the subject. He never thought Wickham would target her as he had. Yet that was exactly what he did. Wickham courted her for her dowry and for revenge on Darcy for his refusal to provide more undeserved funds. Wickham persuaded her she was in love and should elope with him. And what had Darcy done to Wickham when he learned of the plot to steal his sister and her money? Nothing. He had sacked the faithless companion without a reference, but he had not even given in to the impulse to punch George Wickham, let alone made him face any significant consequences for his infamy. No wonder Wickham had walked away laughing.

  Georgiana's face had dissolved back to Miss Elizabeth's. This time it was she sitting at the pianoforte, banging her hands against the cover in anger and sorrow, tears reddening her eyes and dripping down her face. "Why didn't you tell me?" she asked. "I gave you the opportunity, yet you remained silent beyond providing the vaguest and most useless of warnings? What conclusion was I supposed to draw from your comment that he makes friends easily but does not keep them? That is hardly a proper warning! So many people have been hurt by him. So many women ruined. Yet you said nothing of the true danger he posed! You did nothing! Why?"

  Darcy rested his forehead against the cool pane of glass and pondered the question. Why had he done nothing? Why had he usually chosen to do nothing when confronted with George Wickham? If he had warned his father of Wickham's behavior in school, that behavior might have been corrected early. If he had taken Wickham up for debt after he paid off the merchants in Lambton and Kympton, Wickham would not have been able to convince even more people to lend him money. If Darcy had warned Miss Elizabeth, or better yet Mr. Bennet, Sir William Lucas and the other leading men of Meryton, Wickham would not be free to run up debts and ruin the women of their village. He would not have entry to the houses of the local gentry. Even a word of warning to Colonel Forster, the commanding officer of the militia unit Wickham had just joined, might have been enough to curtail some of the man's worst activities. Yet Darcy had done absolutely nothing. Less than nothing, in fact, for he had run away.

  As the image of Miss Elizabeth had faded again, his dreams had been filled with memories of his childhood, school days and later years, always scenes involving Wickham. He had tossed and turned in his sleep as he saw once again how Wickham had charmed Darcy’s father and their teachers, using his glib tongue and lies mixed with just enough truth to make them plausible, doing whatever he chose and leaving Darcy to take the blame. At first, Darcy had tried to defend himself and enlighten others, but Wickham's lies undid all his efforts. Eventually he decided there was no point. Darcy had retreated into sullen silence, ignoring what he could and cleaning up after Wickham when he felt he had to. As far as George Wickham was concerned, the less said, the better.

  Yet in his dreams, he saw the maids dismissed from Pemberley after being taken in by Wickham's charms and reaping the consequences. Or had they been taken in by him? Had some of them been forced into ruin and disgrace? It was possible, he knew. Although he had not seen it then, in his dream he saw the daughter of the Lambton innkeeper laid out on her bed, the red blood dripping from the wrist she had cut when the shame of her condition could be hidden no longer. Wickham had gotten to her too, and Darcy had done nothing, as usual. He had not even offered condolences to her father, useless thought the gesture would have been. He just ignored the situation.

  "Why didn't you tell me?" Georgiana and Miss Elizabeth asked in unison, seated side by side on the bench of the pianoforte. The cover was open, and they banged their fists against the keys producing a cacophony of sound. As the notes died, he once again heard Miss Bennet weeping and saw her sitting with her face turned to a corner of the room. From the other side of the room he heard a man's voice.

  "You lied to me," Bingley said, and there were tears in his voice as well. "I have been your friend for years, and yet you lied to me, manipulated me and misled me for your own purposes." He looked at Darcy with red-rimmed eyes and an expression as miserable as Miss Bennet's.

  Even the memory of that part of the dream made Darcy's head pound more fiercely and his stomach churn. He felt like his eyes were filled with smoke, causing them to burn and weep. Darcy had said more than once that he abhorred disguise of every sort. He thought it was true and yet…

  Darcy placed his palms over his closed eyelids and rubbed. He tried to wish away the tendrils of smoke and memories of the faces and voices that had first haunted his sleep and now haunted his waking. Instead, they settled into the depths of his heart, which suddenly seemed to beat more loudly. He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. When Darcy opened his eyes, he could see the sun had risen above the layers of smoke and it shone out for a moment as bright and clear as the path he understood he now needed to take.

  Stepping away from the window, he pulled the bell for his servant. There would be a busy day ahead of him and he needed to dress and prepare quickly. It might still be early by the standards of the Ton, but the Ton and their standards had nothing to do with him anymore. Darcy knew he should not have let anything of the Ton influence his thoughts or behavior before now. He would not do so going forward. He was his own man, and he knew what was right and what he should value. Everything was now as clear and bright as the sunlight.

  His day was already planned for him, planned by the faces and voices in his dreams. Darcy and Bingley needed to return to Netherfield – that very day, if possible. Miss Bennet should not be left to weep over whatever cruel words Caroline Bingley had written to her. Bingley should not be left to regret having abandoned a woman he loved. George Wickham should not be left to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting population. Miss Elizabeth should not be left unwarned and ignorant.

  As he pulled the receipts of the debts he had paid for Wickham over the years from his pers
onal safe, Darcy wondered if Georgiana might like to join them for Christmas at Netherfield. Once Wickham was safely imprisoned for debt there would be no danger to her person or reputation in Hertfordshire. She would enjoy the company of Miss Bennet and Miss Elizabeth, he was certain, and she ought to meet the woman Darcy intended to court and eventually marry.

  The servant entered, and Darcy gave his instructions to have his clothing packed as soon as he was properly readied for a day of travel. Before heading to the dressing room, he turned back to the window for another look. All traces of the smoke had momentarily cleared. Despite the improbability, outside the sky was blue and the sunshine golden. It was a perfect day to start his journey into a new life.

  Chapter 2: Betrayal?

  As was his habit when he wished to speak privately with Bingley, Darcy exited his carriage around the block from the townhouse and walked the rest of the way, staying close to the inner side of the walk and keeping his hat tilted down to shade his face. When the footman opened the door, Darcy handed him a few coins and quietly asked to speak with Mr. Bingley privately. He specified none of the rest of the family was to be told of his presence. It was a game they had played before, and the footman nodded agreement when he pocketed his tip. As he followed the man to Bingley's study, Darcy suddenly realized how much deceit he entered into on a regular basis connected to Miss Bingley. Was this merely in relation to her, or was it a symptom of a greater character flaw? He shook his head as he settled into a chair to wait for Bingley to come down.

  "Is something wrong, Darcy?" Bingley asked as he entered just a few minutes later. Darcy looked up in surprise from the book he kept in Bingley's study for just such times. He had expected a much longer wait. While bleary-eyed and not in his usual good cheer, his friend was fully dressed and looked ready for the day.

  "Perhaps. I hope not. Still, there are things I need to tell you and things I need to do," Darcy broke off, realizing he was not making much sense.