Darcy's Hope ~ Beauty from Ashes a WW1 Pride & Prejudice Variation Read online

  DARCY’S HOPE

  Beauty from Ashes

  By Ginger Monette

  Darcy’s Hope ~ Beauty from Ashes

  Copyright © 2016 Ginger Monette

  Spero Books

  GingerMonette.com

  Cover Design by Paul Cunningham

  “The Girl of the Somme.” The Wipers Times. 1916-1918

  http://babel.hathitrust.org/cgi/pt?id=mdp.39015004293018

  All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without expressed written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

  V1.22.17

  Though inspired by the characters and events from Jane Austen’s Pride & Prejudice and actual events from World War I, this is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Darcy's Hope ~ Beauty from Ashes, A WW1 Pride & Prejudice Variation (Great War Romance, #1)

  ~PROLOGUE~

  ~ONE~

  ~TWO~

  ~THREE~

  ~FOUR~

  ~FIVE~

  ~SIX~

  ~SEVEN~

  ~EIGHT~

  ~NINE~

  ~TEN~

  ~ELEVEN~

  ~TWELVE~

  ~THIRTEEN~

  ~FOURTEEN~

  ~FIFTEEN~

  ~SIXTEEN~

  ~SEVENTEEN~

  ~EIGHTEEN~

  ~NINETEEN~

  ~TWENTY~

  ~TWENTY-ONE~

  ~TWENTY-TWO~

  ~TWENTY-THREE~

  ~TWENTY-FOUR~

  ~TWENTY-FIVE~

  ~TWENTY-SIX~

  ~TWENTY-SEVEN~

  ~TWENTY-EIGHT~

  ~TWENTY-NINE~

  ~THIRTY~

  DARCY’S HOPE | AT DONWELL ABBEY

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  To the men who served.

  .

  "These men have crossed the gap

  which none of us who were not there with them can understand,

  and that they themselves

  can never retreat from."

  ~Anzacs, 1985 TV mini-series

  ~PROLOGUE~

  Netherfield Ball

  Autumn 1915. Hertfordshire, England

  Elizabeth Bennet stood stunned. Waltz with the arrogant Captain Darcy? How could she have agreed to such a thing?

  Why couldn’t the charming Lieutenant Wickham have been at Netherfield hospital’s dedication ball instead of the heartless Captain Darcy?

  “It won’t be so bad,” her friend Charlotte Lucas consoled her over the clarinet blaring out a ragtime tune behind them. “It’s just one dance.”

  Elizabeth glanced towards the ballroom floor filled with Meryton’s finest ladies dancing with khaki-clad officers. “One dance in the arms of a man who sauntered in, bewitched Papa, and snatched my house is one too many.”

  “Stop being so dramatic, Lizzy. You know Captain Darcy was only doing his duty as an army requisitioner. Army signallers must be trained somewhere. It’s not his fault your family’s property is adjacent to the army base and the dower house makes perfect accommodations for officers.”

  “That doesn’t mean I have to like it—or him, for that matter.” She folded her arms across her chest, still incensed at the events of the past three months.

  “Look on the bright side.” Charlotte nodded in the direction of Elizabeth’s sister Jane who was dancing with Lieutenant Bingley. “If Captain Darcy had the charm of Lieutenant Wickham, he wouldn’t have brought along his friend there to ensure support for the new hospital. You must admit, the two make an excellent team. It’s the captain’s duty to force the pill on the community, and Lieutenant Bingley helps it go down smoothly.”

  “I suppose you are right.” Elizabeth sighed and relaxed her posture while watching her sister’s affable partner escort her from the floor. “And should Jane secure the man of her dreams, it will have been worth it.”

  “You just remember that while you are waltzing with Prince Charming.” Charlotte leaned in and whispered, “Here he comes now.”

  The band struck up “Let Me Call You Sweetheart,” and Lizzy peered over her shoulder—right into the eyes of Captain Darcy. A brilliant smile spread across his face, mesmerising her. It was a beautiful smile. He never smiled. Why was he smiling like that? Was he laughing at her? No.... Embarrassment swept over her in a flash of heat. She averted her eyes. Surely he didn’t think she was flirting with him?

  “Miss Bennet, I believe this is our dance.” The captain extended his hand with a slight bow, his smile relaxing to a half smirk.

  She quickly recovered herself and countered, “This might be the next waltz, but I wouldn’t call it our dance.”

  “As you wish. I will not quibble over semantics.”

  Even the tone of his resonant voice sounded smug! A sly smile settled on his face as he drew her into the ballroom stance and they stepped in unison on the next downbeat.

  Waltzing with him was like gliding on ice. In his impeccably tailored khaki uniform, his posture and bearing gave him a regal air. Standing tall with dark hair, he was an attractive man. When he’d first arrived at the Meryton Assembly with Lieutenant Bingley a few months ago, every woman swooned over him. But she couldn’t forget what he’d said about her that night—“She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me.” Her blood still boiled at the recollection.

  Elizabeth held no delusions of being a real beauty like her sister Jane, but she’d been told her figure was pleasing and that her emerald eyes held character, even if her wavy brown hair was somewhat unruly. With the flattering drape of her white chiffon gown, she thought she looked rather pretty tonight.

  She peered up at the captain as they waltzed among the couples. His twinkling blue eyes still held a hint of amusement. Was he secretly pleased with himself? For what? He might be rich and the best looking man at the ball, but he was also the most arrogant, disagreeable man she had ever met!

  He expertly guided her over the floor, though he spoke not a word. Would he remain silent throughout the dance? Perhaps she should test him and see. But maybe it would be greater punishment to oblige the taciturn man to talk. Besides, that...thing she always felt around him was making her insides jumpy. She needed to break the spell.

  Elizabeth drew her petite form up to her full height. “Lieutenant Bingley has well-chosen this evening’s musicians.”

  “Indeed.”

  After some moments she addressed him again. “It’s your turn to say something now, Captain. I complimented the musicians. You ought to make some kind of remark on the dance or the occasion.”

  “You make an excellent partner, Miss Bennet.”

  She recoiled slightly, unprepared for his affirming reply. But she wouldn’t let him catch her off balance. “For someone who avoids dancing, I’m surprised you bothered to waltz with a country girl like me.”

  “I make exceptions on occasion.” He adjusted his grip on her waist and drew her closer, deftly swirling her among the other couples on the crowded dance floor.

  “I suppose this evening’s event being Netherfield’s dedication, you feel the need to make a show of solidarity between yourself as representative of the army and me, a member of the Bennet family.”

  “Perhaps. But I am not opposed to dancing with partners who complement me so well.”

  Elizabeth laughed. “I didn’t take you to be a man given to flattery.”

  “Indeed, I am not. You know I abhor disguise of any kind.”

  She lifted her chin and looked him straight in the eye. “Then perhaps that explains why you take no effort to conceal your disdain for those of whom you disapprove.”

  The effect was immediate. Darcy halted his motion, then took a half step back and turned stone cold. “I take it you are referring to Lieutenant Wickham?”

  “I am.”

  His eyes shot daggers. “Though he is blessed with such happy manners as may ensure his making friends, whether he may be equally capable of retaining them is less certain.”

  She returned his piercing gaze with equal fortitude. “He has been so unlucky as to lose your friendship and in a manner in which he is likely to suffer from all his life.”

  The captain made no reply but only stared past her with a scowl. She raised her chin in victory. He was obviously unaccustomed to being bested by a woman.

  She was bumped from behind, and he drew her to himself again. “Let us speak no more of it this evening. Tonight is one of celebration, not of contention.” His soft breath just above her ear sent a tingle down her spine.

  Their steps slowed with the retarding tempo which signalled the final bars of the popular song. Many of the other couples separated but stood singing the last line in unison, “Let me call you sweetheart, I’m in love with you.” Elizabeth glanced up at the captain who still held her locked in waltz position. He appeared preoccupied, staring as if lost in the past. Perhaps he was replaying her charge against him and reconsidering his treatment of Lieutenant Wickham, his childhood friend. Good. He needed to answer for
his reprehensible behaviour.

  As soon as the captain released her, Elizabeth excused herself, dodging her way back to Charlotte’s side. Hadn’t she bested him? Then why did she feel so deflated?

  “That wasn’t so bad, was it?” Charlotte broke into her thoughts.

  Elizabeth half laughed to cover her disquiet. “Not so much.”

  “Everyone was watching you with Captain Darcy. After his unflattering words about you at the Meryton Assembly, I think they were surprised to see the two of you dancing. I don’t suppose you will ever forget that incident, will you?”

  Elizabeth released a frustrated breath. “Perhaps I could forgive him if he hadn’t wounded my vanity.”

  “Wounded vanity or not, I think you hold a secret affection for one another.”

  “Charlotte Lucas, how dare you!” Elizabeth drew back. “You know I have no interest in any sort of attachment. I intend to become a doctor so I’ll never be forced to rely on a man. And never will I allow my affairs to lapse into neglect as my father has done.”

  “Dare me all you want, but I’ve seen the way the captain looks at you.”

  “The way he looks at me is with disdain—to find fault. Besides, he resents me.”

  “Resents you?”

  “You know Papa is blind as a bat and not as sharp-minded as he used to be. He depends on me to read everything and help him to understand it—though of course he would never let on. Captain Darcy clearly believes women have no place in business. He takes pains to arrive at just the moment I am out, ensuring that everything is decided without me.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Lizzy. How could he possibly know when you are out?”

  “He knows I’m the telegraphist at the railway station on Saturday afternoons.”

  “So he only visits your father on Saturday afternoons?”

  “Only when there are matters of importance to be decided. Then he manipulates the situation to his advantage. It’s no secret that the lease amount for the house and sixty acres was a mere pittance. Yet he coerced Papa to add electricity and a bathroom to the dower house at our expense!”

  Charlotte laid a calming hand on Lizzy’s arm. “Perhaps it’s not all the fault of the captain. Your father is rather enthused at the prospect of hoards of electrically-minded men all converging on his property for the sake of the war effort. If the army hadn’t offered a lease amount, he might have paid them to come just for the amusement of it all.”

  “Whose side are you on?” Elizabeth cocked her head and took a half-step back.

  “I just think you are blowing things out of proportion.”

  “Well, you aren’t the one who has to find money to fund these new accommodations. It is all we can do to satisfy Mama and Lydia’s unending desire for gowns and gloves—not to mention paying the butcher, baker, and candlestick maker.”

  “What about the lease money?”

  “That paid for the new china and redecorating the drawing room.” She batted her eyelashes in a mock imitation of her mother, “For we are entertaining officers, you know.”

  “If you would encourage Captain Darcy, you might never need worry about these things again.”

  “No!” She startled at her abruptness, then forced herself to relax. “As much as I love Papa, never again will I be subjected to a man making decisions for me. I want security, and I plan to have it. One day I’ll be practicing medicine in that dower house, you’ll see.”

  Captain Darcy passed by, and Charlotte chuckled with a smile. “You can plan all you want, Lizzy, but Providence has its own way of determining our future.”

  ~ONE~

  The Somme, France

  1 July 1916—Ten months later

  The moment was nearly upon him. Captain Fitzwilliam Darcy laid his pen on the makeshift desk in the dim dugout, then sealed the carefully drafted letter to his sixteen-year-old sister. Pinching the envelope between his fingers, he closed his eyes. Would this be his last words to her?

  He lifted her picture from the desk and held it close to the lone candle. This fight is for you, Georgiana, and all those who come after you.

  Pushing to his feet he tucked the photo and letter into his pocket. Elizabeth Bennet. He winced. No need for a letter to her. She’d made her feelings quite clear. ...you are the last man in the world I could ever be prevailed upon to marry! Would the sting of her scathing rejection two months ago ease over time?

  A screaming shell whistled overhead, and he instinctually ducked and dipped his knees. His earthen cave rattled with the explosion, raining dirt from the low ceiling. He brushed the particles off his tunic, then blew out a breath. Duty called. In a matter of minutes, he would lead his company of some hundred men head-on into an artillery barrage across No-Man’s Land.

  Nobby, the company’s mongrel, yawned and shook off the dust. Darcy knelt and scratched the ears of the dog he’d grown especially fond of. “This is it, old chap. Keep yourself safe.”

  He straightened and twisted his wrist to consult his watch—7:10 am, twenty minutes until the zero hour. Grasping his revolver, he dropped it into its holster, then peered into his shaving mirror and adjusted his tin helmet. He stared at himself. God help me serve my country. And by Your mercy may I live through the day with my limbs and features intact. He took two concentrated breaths to quiet his churning stomach. He would do his duty and lead his men with honour, whatever the outcome.

  He pushed aside the canvas flap covering the dugout opening and recoiled at the morning’s brightness. The stretcher-bearers and signallers cramming the support trench snapped to attention.

  “At ease, men,” he shouted over the artillery bombardment pummelling the enemy.

  His eyes scanned the sea of khaki filling the narrow ditch. Who would be dead by sunset? Would he? God let me live. For Georgiana. And Pemberley.

  He forced even breaths to calm his quickening pulse and pressed his way through the soldiers lining the zigzag maze. The stench of urine, sweat, and rotting food filled the space. Two rats outside the parapet shamelessly foraged from a tin of Bully Beef as he rounded the corner to the front-line trench.

  “Officer approaching!” The khaki-clad boys straightened as the call rang out down the line.

  “At ease,” he shouted over the cracks and booms pounding the enemy.

  Squeezing through the crowd, he shifted his eyes among his company silently standing under a hazy cloud of cigarette smoke. Tension and fear radiated from the perspiring, muddied men, nervously puffing their Woodbines.

  Reaching out, he patted the shoulder of a whimpering private. “Steady on, chap.” If only he felt the assurance he sought to impart!

  He stopped in the midst of the throng, and the chaplain inched his way by, gathering the men’s letters with final sentiments to their loved ones should they not survive the encounter. Darcy dropped his into the bucket.

  “Three minutes, sir.” The sergeant major nearby called out.

  Darcy gripped one of the nearby ladders and sucked in a breath. “This is it, men!” he shouted. “The big push we’ve all been waiting for. It is our chance to end this bloody war—here—now. This is our moment. To ensure the future of England for our children and our children’s children. Can we take them?”

  “Yes, sir!” the men cried in unison.

  “Can we take them?”

  “Yes, sir!” they shouted louder.

  “Fix bayonets—for God, King, and country!”

  Darcy set his gaze on his watch-face, the second hand pulsing around the dial. Metal clattered as the men secured their helmets and attached their bayonets. Twenty seconds. Could they expel the Germans from the strategic position they’d held for the past two years? Only with a will of steel and a valiant effort from the other companies all along the sector.

  With his eyes still fixed on his timepiece, Darcy laid a calming hand on Tipper beside him. The boy from his aunt’s estate was shaking with fear.

  Somewhere in the crowd the company chant broke out: “Dum spiro spero! Dum spiro spero!” A tingle shimmered down his spine. While I breathe, I hope. Others joined in, “Dum spiro spero!” louder and louder until it drowned out the reverberating boom of bursting shells. Power and courage flared inside him like an inferno bursting to life.

  ...three...two...one.... Darcy swept his hand downward, and the shrill of the signalling whistle pieced the air.