Abigail Reynolds wondered, “Can this marriage be saved?”

In this sexy Jane Austen sequel, Elizabeth Bennet accepts Mr. Darcy’s first marriage proposal, answering the “What if…?” question fans everywhere have pondered

” I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”

Famous last words indeed! Elizabeth Bennet’s furious response to Mr. Darcy’s marriage proposal has resonated for generations of readers. But what if she had never said it? Would she have learned to recognize Mr. Darcy’s admirable qualities on her own? Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy follows Elizabeth and Darcy as they struggle to find their way through the maze of their prejudices after Elizabeth, against her better judgment, agrees to marry Darcy instead of refusing his proposal.

Two of the most beloved characters in English literature explore the meaning of true love in a tumultuous and passionate attempt to make a success of their marriage.

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Writing Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World was a learning experience for me.  I’d already written four Pride & Prejudice variations where I took the classic plot and characters and put in my own twist.  What if Mr. Darcy admitted his feelings for Elizabeth before they parted in Lambton?  What if Mr. Darcy hadn’t left Rosings immediately after giving Elizabeth his letter, and instead they’d had to meet face to face the next day?  Various romantic entanglements always ensue, leading to the happy ending with Elizabeth marrying Darcy.  This book, however, was different.  What if Elizabeth had to marry Darcy with all her prejudices about him still intact?  It was a common enough scenario at the time, a young lady marrying a gentleman she disliked, but had to learn to co-exist with.  But could it work with Elizabeth and Darcy?  And, perhaps more importantly, could I write it?

It’s one thing for Elizabeth and Darcy to work out their differences in Pride & Prejudice after their argument in Hunsford.   Just a matter of talking it through, after all.  But what if they were already married when that argument took place?  The stakes would be much higher, and the hurt feelings deeper.  Imagine Darcy, believing that he has a happy marriage with the woman he loves, now discovering that she has disliked him all along.  Imagine Elizabeth, isolated at Pemberley, far from her family and friends, realizing that she has just angered the man who holds her future in his hands, a man she believes to be ill-tempered and unfair in his dealings with others. That’s a big hole for a relationship to dig its way out of, particularly for two proud and strong-minded people.

It takes an entire book for them to reach a new understanding, with lots of tentative small steps and setbacks along the way.  Both have to learn to swallow their pride, to take some things on faith, and to be willing to change.

Here’s the turning point.  Both Elizabeth and Darcy have been trying to re-establish a civil relationship.  But just as they are almost friends, they quarrel over Bingley and Jane.  Darcy rides off in anger on an untrustworthy horse and doesn’t return home.  Elizabeth, thinking she has lost him, realizes her true feelings for him go well beyond friendship:

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World–excerpt

The day turned to twilight, and twilight to full dark. Elizabeth grew more hopeless as each hour passed, wondering whether she had realized the truth of her feelings for Darcy too late. The house was silent; even the footmen and the cook’s boys were out searching by lantern light. There was nothing she could do but fret. Mrs. Reynolds quietly brought a glass of wine and set it beside her, but it remained untouched.

Hearing a noise outside, Elizabeth hurried to see if there was any news. Through the door she heard Darcy’s irritable voice. “Leave off. I will walk in.” Tears of relief sprang to her eyes as she opened the door.

By the light of hand-held lanterns she could make out his familiar figure, standing beside a horse she did not recognize and holding its saddle for support, while three men stood around him.  His coat was torn and muddy.

She hurried down the steps. “Are you hurt?”

“It is nothing.” He let go of the horse and one of the men moved closer, as if ready to support him. Darcy turned a glare on him. “I can walk.”

Elizabeth caught the manservant’s eye. “Gentlemen, if you will be so kind as to assist Mr. Darcy to his bedchamber,” she said in a firmer voice than she would have thought herself capable of at that moment.

“I need no assistance.”

She could see he was barely able to stay upright. It would take a substantial injury to bring him to this state. “Nonetheless, you will accept it, if only to humour me.”

Darcy frowned, but suffered two of the men to support his arms. They made slow progress, Elizabeth following after with pained concern as she saw how stiffly he held himself. It was a struggle to keep her distance when she wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around him.

It seemed an eon before the little procession, now joined by Mrs. Reynolds, reached Darcy’s bedroom. Mrs. Reynolds darted ahead to turn down the bed, then assisted the men as they eased Darcy onto it. He was no longer making even a pretence of independence.

Mrs. Reynolds hovered over him. “Where is your injury, Mr. Darcy?”

He gestured to his left side, wincing as the men tugged off his boots. Ferguson, Darcy’s valet, appeared and shooed them aside.

The housekeeper said, “The apothecary has been sent for, sir, but we will need to expose the wound for cleansing.”

“Do what you must,” Darcy said irritably, “but I need no crowd present.”

Mrs. Reynolds, looking disapproving, dismissed the servants, apart from Ferguson. Darcy’s eyes turned to Elizabeth. “You should not be here, Elizabeth.”

She came forward then and sat on the bed at his right side, tracing the lines of his countenance with her eyes. “Please do not send me away. I have been so worried.” She laid her hand on his, and thought her heart might break when he turned his hand over to grasp hers. Perhaps it was not too late. Tears started in her eyes, and their gazes locked, at least until Ferguson began to peel away his riding coat from his injured side. Then Darcy clenched his teeth, looking as if he could barely hold back a cry.

His shirt was stained with blood, both the rich red of fresh blood and a dried brown crust around the edge. A rent in the fabric revealed torn flesh, but how extensive Elizabeth could not tell. Darcy’s breath hissed through his teeth.

Mrs. Reynolds materialized on the other side of the bed with a glass half-filled with amber liquid. “Mr. Darcy, I have laudanum for you.”

He grimaced. “I want no laudanum.”

“Sir, you will need it for when we clean your wound.”

“No. It dulls my mind.” Lines of pained etched his face.

Mrs. Reynolds looked at Elizabeth, who held out her hand for the glass. She smoothed a stray lock of hair from his sweat-beaded forehead. “Please, Fitzwilliam. It would ease my mind to know you are in less discomfort.”

He turned his dark eyes to her, and she squeezed his hand. “Very well,” he said grudgingly. Raising his head, he took the glass and drained it. “Vile stuff.”

“Thank you,” Elizabeth said softly. She wiped the moisture from his brow with her handkerchief.

He closed his eyes, but she could tell by his clenched jaw his pain had not eased.

“Is there anything I can do, anything I can bring you for your comfort?” she asked.

“Talk to me.”

“Very well. What shall I talk about?” The only subject on her mind was not one she could raise in front of servants.

“Anything.” He winced as he drew in a deep breath.

“I hate your horse.”

The shadow of a smile crossed his lips. “Tell me something new.”

“That is new. I was always frightened of him, but now I hate him as well.”

“I am glad to see…” He coughed, half-rising as the movement pained him. “I am glad to see you do not hesitate to speak your mind.”

“I do not, and I still hate your horse.”

He opened his eyes and looked at her. “I could find another horse, but any horse I choose is likely to be spirited. I prefer them that way.”

She surprised herself by lifting his hand and brushing a kiss across his dirt-stained knuckles. “Are there no spirited horses who know when to listen to their riders?”

“No doubt there are.” He brought their clasped hands back to his chest. “Are there any further points you wish to argue?” Despite his words, he did not sound troubled.

She could feel his heart beating rapidly underneath her hand. If only the laudanum would take effect, they could discover the extent of his wound. But what if it were something she preferred not to know? What if it was even now too late? She distracted herself by leaning down to kiss his cheek, then whispered archly in his ear, “You prefer it when I argue with you.”

“My secret is discovered.” His speech was beginning to slur, but his slight smile was unmistakeable.

© Abigial Reynolds, Sourcebooks Landmark, 2010

It’s still not smooth sailing for a while, given how prone Elizabeth and Darcy are at misunderstanding each other’s intentions, but they persist, learning more about the other all the time and gaining a deeper appreciation for their virtues as well as their weaknesses. The path is perilous, but I found that in the end, their love was even stronger than it would have been had they taken the traditional route.  Who knew?

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Thank you kindly, Ms Reynolds!

To learn more about the Pemberley Variations novels, visit Ms Reynolds’ website.

The fine people at Sourcebooks are sponsoring a giveaway (yay, giveaway!) Two copies of Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy: The Last Man in the World will go to two commenters in this thread. (Giveaway limited to US and Canada residents.)