Rainy Days, Pride and Prejudice Fanfiction
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Rainy
by Lory L
Days
sky was clear and the sun inally seemed tempted
to show its face. It was early in the morning and
everybody in the house was still in the rooms, but
Elizabeth was having another sleepless night caused by the
long period of time she had to stay indoors and by the fear
of hearing Mr. Collins addressing her with a most unwel-
come proposal.
Almost since the beginning, he seemed determined
to favor her—of course, poor Jane was his irst choice but
thankfully Mrs. Bennet told him about Mr. Bingley’s at-
tentions towards Jane and he turned—very naturally in his
opinion—to the second in age and beauty. his was a happy
event, because Elizabeth knew that sweet Jane would have
borne Mr. Collins’ attentions and fulsome afability and
would not have been able to rid herself of him as a result.
She was mortiied and sick thinking of the prospect of
being the wife of that awful man; fortunately, she knew that
Mr. Bennet would support her in whatever choice she made
in regards to her own future happiness.
As the weather was so inviting, Elizabeth decided not
to let a single moment pass without taking advantage of
that beautiful November day; so she took her bonnet and
gloves and went outside.
By breakfast time, I shall return and
hopefully I shall be able to pretend I am tired and spend the
morning in my room, reading or talking with Jane about the
upcoming ball.
he ball was another delicate matter: its beginning would
be a disaster, for she was asked by Mr. Collins to dance the
irst set. But she was happy with anticipation, thinking of
the pleasurable evening she would spend in the lovely com-
pany of Mr. Wickham and, fortunately, with the Militia in
town, there would be enough gentlemen to attend the ball
so she would be able to dance every dance. She shuddered
as she recalled the Meryton Assembly wherein she had been
left without a partner and how this had prompted deroga-
tory comments from a certain gentleman regarding her be-
ing
“slighted by other men.”
Of course, Elizabeth liked him too little to value his
opinion. She remained left with no cordial feelings towards
him since that very night; and getting to know him better
during the days spent at Netherield, she had easily read his
character: he was a clever man, very well read and well-bred,
caring for his sister and for his friend.
Perhaps too caring, I
hope he would not dare to discourage Mr. Bingley in his atten-
tions toward Jane; no doubt that miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst
would very much welcome such a gesture,
Elizabeth thought
bitterly.
But the time spent at Netherield also conirmed her
that he was a very proud and disagreeable man, haughty,
reserved and fastidious, who considered all of them be-
neath him and treated them consequently. Furthermore Mr.
Wickham’s sad story only conirmed her earlier suspicions
about his lack of integrity.
Charlotte believed he had every reason to be so proud.
Elizabeth often thought,
“Well…I could easily forgive his
pride, if he had not mortiied mine.”
And deinitely his justi-
ied pride did not give him the right to disregard his father’s
will and to reduce to poverty a good, sensible man like Mr.
Wickham.
Strangely, that short meeting she had witnessed between
Mr. Darcy and Mr. Wickham still puzzled her exceedingly.
hough he was without any fault, Wickham was the one
who looked embarrassed and uncomfortable—maybe a
little alarmed—and Darcy just seemed somewhat surprised
and hurt, but deinitely angry. One of them turned white
while the other became alarmingly red-faced.
But of course, she knew too little of both gentlemen to
be sure if her observations were well-founded, or to under-
stand their reactions.
Papa would have read them in an instant, just looking
at their faces. What a pity he spends so much time locked in
his library, hiding himself from all but me. He is simply too
little interested in any people or events around him, preferring
his books, contented, from time to time, with laughing at my
mother and younger sisters or our neighbors’ follies.
“Improving her mind by extensive reading.”
his was Mr.
Darcy’s deinition of accomplished women…
Poor Miss
Bingley. She took so much trouble to prove she was a great
reader.
With all sorts of thoughts in her mind, she walked
quickly; even if the road was indeed very bad, and her pet-
ticoat was more than six inches deep in mud. She enjoyed
the feeling of the wind in her face and the smell the fresh
air after the rain.
She preferred an alternate path she knew very well. In
fact she could ind it with her eyes closed. She walked for
quite a while through the small wooded area till she reached
a small hill, near the stream—which was full of water and
certainly deeper than it had been in a long time—after the
continuous raining in the last week and began to climb it.
Suddenly she saw the little cottage, a place dear to her
heart. It had been built at Mr. Bennet’s request after one
day spent ishing with his brother Gardiner—and with little
Lizzy around them, of course. hey had been all caught in
a terrible rain, with a horrible storm which made them lose
the way home for a few hours. By the time they reached the
house they were soaked and all three of them got a terrible
cold which kept them in bed almost a fortnight.
Mrs. Bennet demanded they swear to never to repeat
their irresponsible actions ever again and forbade all to ever
ish again. So Mr. Bennet, after talking to Mr. Gardiner and
deciding that Mrs. Bennet had a certain point in her argu-
ment, made sure that the dangerous event would never occur
again and so they built the little cottage, with three rooms:
Chapter 1
F
or the irst time after three full rainy days, the
the main room with a ireplace, a comfortable armchair near
the ire place and close to the window, very proper for read-
ing, a table and few chairs; the second one, smaller, with an
iron bed, in which, of course, nobody was supposed to have
ever slept—but Mr. Bennet rested there from time to time
while his companion, Mr. Gardiner, was overseeing the ish-
ing tools—and a closet with the most urgent things needed;
the third room was a very small kitchen.
From that point on, in the cottage there was always
everything needed for starting a ire, blankets, towels and
many other things.
he last time Elizabeth was in the cottage was about ive
years ago, before the fourth child of the Gardiners was born.
Of course, she had no intention to go inside now. She just
wanted to look at it, and passed pass through it.
Hmm, how
strange…suddenly I ind myself missing my childhood.
She walked a little further but suddenly she felt a pow-
erful chill. Recovering from her thoughts she looked around
and saw the sky covered by dark clouds. It seemed like ev-
erything around her had become darker and colder and she
found she was surrounded, out of the blue, by a freezing
night.
She was wearing naught but a white dress, her brown
Spencer, a long brown coat, a bonnet and the gloves, but
neither were made from a very thick fabric. Certainly noth-
ing she wore would serve to protect her should the weather
turn treacherous.
“I had better hurry home in an instant, before the rain
starts,”
she mused silently.
But it was all too late; in only a few moments the rain
begin to fall steadily, then faster and faster, until all she could
see was a curtain of dripping water in front of her.
I must get
back to the cottage, it is my only chance; home is too far away
and I shall freeze to death trying to get there in this cold rain.
But it seemed the more Elizabeth hurried up, the more
her moves became very slow; the ield was comprised of slip-
pery mud, her dress was soaked and it began to feel colder
and heavier. She was walking blindly around:
I do not want
to sprain my ankle just before the ball…or perhaps it is not
such a bad idea, considering the fact that I must dance irst two
sets with Mr. Collins…but then I shall not be able to dance at
all, not even with Mr. Wickham! hat would be a tragic event,
indeed…
She was trying to ind some amusement in her situation,
but she was a little frightened and extremely worried about
what her family would think when they discovered she was
missing. hey would fear the worst.
Poor Jane will be devastated, Papa will be really worried
and Mama… She will deinitely be in need of her smelling
salts.
She wrapped her arms around herself and rubbed up
and down as feverishly as she could, trying to keep to the
correct path leading to the cottage. She was sure the old
stream was full of water and very dangerous and the last
thing she wanted was a cold bath.
Not that it would be much diferent; I am absolutely wet
anyway, it cannot get any worse.
Suddenly she stopped. She could hear a horse galloping
and the deep strong voice of a man.
he man must be mad to ride like that on a practically
invisible road which would lead him and his horse exactly into
the stream. I must warn him.
She ran to her right and lifting both her hands, she
started to yell.
hen she startled. he horse was much closer than she
originally thought and she found herself staring right into
his face. he man saw her too and pulled the reign with all
his might, causing the horse to buck. His legs slid and he
fell. he rider was about to be caught under it, but at the last
second he threw himself in the mud, thereby landing well
away from the horse. he animal stood up then started to
run into the heavy woods.
Elizabeth was so terriied that she could hardly move or
breathe… Her whole body was trembling. She watched the
man on the ground and tried to talk to him, to see if he was
hurt. She made an attempt to physically move to his side
but found she could not move. It turned out this was for
the best because in the next second she heard a most well
known and unpleasant voice groaning at her:
“Are you out of your mind to yell like that? What on
earth were you thinking scaring my horse and making him
throw me onto the ground?”
It was obvious he could not recognize her, but Elizabeth
was very cold, very scared and now very angry. “I am terribly
sorry, sir, for upsetting you so, while I was trying to stop
you from running directly into the stream. If I knew it was
you, Mr. Darcy, I should have thought twice before acting
so impulsively.”
2
Shocked by the sudden recognizance of the lady’s identity,
Darcy hurried to rise to his feet, in a desperate and useless
attempt to redeem some dignity. He was wet of course, his
hat lost somewhere and he was full of mud all over his ine
coat and gloves.
“Miss Bennet…may I ask what are you doing here?”
She looked at him with her eyes shooting ire arrows.
What a silly question!
“Besides scaring you and your horse,
sir? Well, I cannot deny it anymore. hat was the main pur-
pose of my morning walk.”
Darcy was clearly very uncomfortable. “I am very sorry
for ofending you, Miss Bennet. I did not mean it, I was just
very much surprised by your sudden appearance and I was
equally surprised at my horse’s reaction in this situation. I
have never been thrown from a horse in my life.”
Really? What a stunning event: Mr. Darcy in the mud, at
my feet. hat is an extraordinary experience.
She felt terribly
amused, almost laughing, and answered, “Oh, it is quite all
right Mr. Darcy. I am getting used to that. Ofending me
appears to be a real pattern of our every meeting, no matter
if it takes place in a ball room or in the wood.”
He froze, furrowing his brows.
What did she mean? How
could she say I have always ofended her? Oh my goodness…
She heard me that night.
“Miss Bennet…” he began but she cut him iercely.
“Mr. Darcy, this is hardly the time or the place to talk.
We have stayed too long in this terrible rain. I was trying to
ind a refuge before we met, and I intend to continue doing
so. Good day sir.”
She started to walk at a quicker pace but he followed
her in an instant.
“Miss Bennet, you are perfectly right. It was very un-
gentlemanly of me to delay you.
Not to mention very stupid,
thought he. “If I may be so bold, would you consider allow-
ing me to accompany you? I confess I am not very familiar
with these grounds and I should be very grateful to you for
any help you can ofer me in inding my way. On the other
hand, I hope I could be of some assistance to you, in case
you may need it.”
Elizabeth hesitated only a moment before answering.
She could not leave a man alone in the woods, in that aw-
ful weather, even if that man was Mr. Darcy. He was right.
Maybe she would need a man’s hand, if only for assistance
in opening the old cottage door.
“Of course you may join me, Mr. Darcy; and I hope,
despite the fact that we are rather enemies than friends, we
could help each other to pass this diicult day.”
She started to walk, with Darcy following her very
closely lost in his own deep thoughts.
and liveliness, her open and unafected manners. He simply
could not ind anything wanting in her and he already con-
fessed to himself that, if not for the inferiority of her con-
nections, he would have been in real danger.
he inferiority of her connections—and the complete
lack of propriety in her mother and younger sisters—was
his best weapon to defend himself against this dangerous
attraction. He could not even consider connecting himself
to a woman whose situation in life was so below him and
whose family was in great need of a sound education in so-
cial etiquette. he mere thought of Mrs. Bennet and her
daughters running and yelling around him at Pemberley was
enough to diminish the ardor he felt every time Elizabeth
was present before him. Or in his mind. Or in his dreams…
To diminish yes, but not to make that attraction vanish.
It took him not long before he could fully understand
that he was in real danger, no matter how inferior her con-
nections or situation were. And from that moment, he spent
the last couple of weeks in an exhausting torment, trying to
ight against the most frightful feeling he had ever experi-
enced.
Every day he waited for an opportunity to see her again
and speak to her once more, and every night, when sleep
was avoiding him, he blamed himself for his ickle obsession
and for his weakness. When they happened to meet, her
presence made him tense and he had become dizzy—as if
he had been drinking too much—at the same time. He des-
perately watched her every move, her every smile, her every
lively conversation but never interfered in any of them.
Astonished by the way he reacted when she was con-
cerned—his heart pounding wildly, his eyes seeking a sign
of recognition from her, the shiver he felt every time she was
close or she was speaking to him—he tried to convince him-
self that it was nothing more than a physical attraction he
felt for a handsome woman and he forced himself to censure
and to control his reactions.
Never—not even when he was very young and barely
accustomed to ladies’ intimacy—did his body respond in
such a powerful and disturbing way to a woman’s presence,
and this weakness ashamed him. Moreover, he could not
remember if he had ever been really attracted to a woman. It
seemed as if all women before Elizabeth were meaningless.
So, reluctantly, he admitted to himself this failure and
lack of self control, trying to release his distress with some
reasonable explanations.
First, it had been a few years since he was in a woman’s
intimate company; his duties—to his sister and to all those
who were depending on him—left him little time to think
of so selish pleasures. And even if—at some time—he did
think of that, he always was a man of a very strong self con-
trol and a very strong will to induce him to do only what
was proper and what was demanded. Secondly, Miss Bennet
was not only a very handsome woman but a very diferent
one from all the ladies he had met before, with a witty mind
and a very uncommon intelligence.
2
Elizabeth Bennet’s words sounded again and again
in his mind and he just could not understand completely
their meaning. In only a few minutes she revealed to him
so many things—things he found so diicult to believe and
even more diicult to accept.
She said she would think twice before rescuing him if
she knew who he was; that she was ofended by him every
time they had met and that she considered him her enemy.
How could that be?
He was convinced beyond any doubt that he had given
her more attention than he had to any other young lady.
Surely that was the case, for Miss Bingley saw or suspected
enough to be jealous and to abuse her with unkind words at
any opportunity.
Since almost from the beginning of their acquaintance,
he felt he had never in his life admired a woman as much
as he admired her. He was deeply attracted by the beauti-
ful expression of her dark, sparkling, beautiful eyes, her wit
He
allowed himself
to be attracted to her.
But again he understood that he was deceiving him-
self—and with little success. Because he might be telling
himself that what he felt for her might have been attraction,
but it was more than that. Frighteningly more. He under-
stood that in those days when she stayed at Netherield—
the most wonderful and most trying, tormenting days he
remembered spending in years.
Yes, her appearance was always the most pleasurable and
delightful sight to admire, but equally pleasurable was it for
him to talk to her, to listen to her bright answers to Caroline
Bingley’s mean attacks, to witness her determination in ex-
pressing and sustaining her own opinions.
“I no longer wonder that you know only six accomplished
women…”
Every time she spoke to him, there was a mix of sweet-
ness and archness in her answers so that he never knew if he
should feel ofended or if he should admire her even more
for her wit. And her soft lips were always twitching in a
most tempting way, her eyes sparkling and her eyebrow de-
liciously rising in challenge. He was convinced, beyond any
doubt, that she understood his feelings and reciprocated
them; and that she was waiting for his attentions. But he
could not ofer her that. He could not fancy himself ofer-
ing her anything more than a futile acquaintance. His du-
ties, his family’s expectations, forbade any other intentions
or thoughts regarding Elizabeth Bennet to be allowed. She
was to remain a very pleasant memory—the most pleasant
memory—but nothing more.
So, not wanting to trile with her and with her feel-
ings, he decided to avoid any further attentions to her which
could raise expectations impossible for him to fulill.
Consequently, he withdrew even more, content to ad-
mire her from afar. He talked to her less in her last days
at Netherield; he tried to avoid her company—except at
mealtimes. He even spent more than half an hour reading
in the library, while she was in the same room, without ad-
dressing to her a single word.
hat day, when he saw her from the window while she
was playing childishly with his dog… His eyes remained
locked upon her and he could not move, admiring her in a
mesmerized manner and astonished by the tumult of feel-
ings and sensations aroused in him.
Of course, such behavior towards a young lady was
completely improper and unacceptable. But she was so
charming, so natural, so lively… Yes, that was the word; she
was all liveliness and joy! Everything he was not anymore.
She epitomized everything he wanted and needed.
matter. Every time he closed his eyes she appeared in his
mind; never before in his life did he dream about any wom-
an. And now, his dreams were illed with Elizabeth Bennet;
and the sort of dreams that he could not even allow himself
to remember… his would not do!
He had fetched his horse and threw himself in a long,
wild ride in that dreadful weather precisely to clear his mind
of her image and forget about the ball which would, no
doubt, bring her again to Netherield. Nothing could be
worst than seeing her dancing in other men’s arms.
And now…here they were, together, alone…dangerous-
ly alone. He followed her, watching from behind. Her hair
was in great disorder, soaking wet, her dark curls escaped
from their hair pins and laid in heavy waves on her shoul-
ders and her back, her dress and shoes full of mud—and yet
he was sure she looked more beautiful than ever. More beau-
tiful than the day when she appeared lustered at Netherield
after a three mile walk, with her breath heavy by the efort
and her eyes brightened by the exercise.
What a simpleton I am! I tried so hard to conceal my pref-
erences for her but I have never been in any danger of raising
expectations. She simply hates me.
“Mr. Darcy! Mr. Darcy!” she tried to catch his attention
but he seemed so trapped in his thoughts that she had to yell
at him, again, few more times before he heard her.
“I am so sorry Miss Bennet… I was distracted. Is there
anything you want me to do?”
He looked at her soundly, making Elizabeth feel slightly
uneasy.
hat look again…well, this time I cannot blame him, I
must look simply horrendous. At least I do not have to worry
for my safety, being alone with this man. If he did not ind me
handsome enough to tempt him at the assembly, when I was at
my best looking, God knows what he thinks of me now, when
I am such a mess.
Little did she know how wrong she was. Darcy had nev-
er in his life been so bewitched by a woman’s beauty like he
was now, in spite of her wild appearance.
“Mr. Darcy, this is the place. Will you be so kind as to
try to open the door?”
“Of course, Miss Bennet. Allow me, please.”
He tried the hard iron doorknob but it was locked
tight; meanwhile the weather was getting worse. He forced
the door with his shoulder. Once, twice, and the door was
open.
“Come Miss Bennet,” said he.
2
2
She entered with a great sense of relief as she was feeling
increasingly colder. Her lips had become almost blue and
she was shaking. Darcy followed her and cast a glance about
the irst room.
That morning, like many other mornings, he woke after
only few hours of restless sleep. It was another disturbing
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