Mr. Darcy, the Beast Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  More P&P Variations

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Mr. Darcy, the Beast

  a Pride and Prejudice variation

  The Happily Ever Collection, Book One

  Valerie Lennox

  MR. DARCY, THE BEAST

  © copyright 2019 by Valerie Lennox

  http://vjchambers.com

  Punk Rawk Books

  More P&P Variations

  by Valerie Lennox

  Mr. Darcy’s Downfall

  Mr. Darcy, the Dance, and Desire

  Pledged to Mr. Darcy

  Mr. Darcy’s Courtesan

  Escape with Mr. Darcy

  The Dread Mr. Darcy

  The Scandalous Mr. Darcy

  The Unraveling of Mr. Darcy

  Fall in love with Mr. Darcy all over again

  Join my email list here.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Gentleman are scarce,” exclaimed Miss Elizabeth Bennet to those gathered around her. Her sisters, Jane and Catherine, who they called Kitty, and her friend Miss Charlotte Lucas, were all standing close by in their evening dresses. Kitty was drinking some of the punch, rather too much of it, Elizabeth thought, because it was a bit heavy on the wine, and Kitty was giggling overmuch.

  Even now, Kitty was giggling. She had not stopped, in fact, Elizabeth thought, for the last ten minutes.

  Elizabeth was in attendance at a public ball in Meryton along with her family. She had come with the intent of dancing as much as possible, but the problem was that eligible women outnumbered all the willing men for dancing, and so she had spent at least two dances on the sidelines.

  “Lizzy,” admonished Jane, “you cannot simply go and speak to him. You have not been introduced.”

  “You are only pouring cold water over the enterprise because you had two dances with the new master of Netherfield,” said Elizabeth. “And besides, your dance card is always full, because you are the pretty one.” She laughed to let her sister know that she was only jesting, that there was no malice in her words, and indeed, there were not. Elizabeth would not want to be the pretty one. She would rather be the one with the witty tongue.

  Kitty was still giggling.

  “Be that as it may,” said Charlotte, “your sister is correct. You cannot speak to a man you have not been introduced to.”

  “I have thought of that,” said Elizabeth, “and I think that Jane must go and speak to Mr. Bingley, her new admirer, and beg that we all get an introduction.”

  “Oh, Lizzy, no, might you leave me out of it?” said Jane. “There must be some reason that gentleman is hiding in the corner.”

  As she spoke, they all turned to look into the shadows where the gentleman in question was standing, and they grew quiet. Even Kitty did, the laughter dying in her throat.

  The gentleman had trailed behind the rest of his party when he’d arrived. Mr. Bingley, his two sisters, and his sister’s husband, had all stepped into the light, but the other gentleman, he’d kept his head down, behind his hat, which he had not taken off upon arrival, which was highly irregular, even improper.

  He didn’t seem to be wearing his hat now, Elizabeth noted, but it was impossible to tell from here. He stood in the corner, away from the lights, and there was no way to make out his face.

  “I have heard his name is Mr. Darcy,” said Charlotte.

  “Who did you have that from?” whispered Kitty, breathless.

  “I can’t be sure,” said Charlotte. “Perhaps Mrs. Harrington.”

  “I heard that he has ten thousand a year,” said Elizabeth.

  “Must we gossip so about him?” said Jane. “He obviously wants his privacy.”

  “Gentleman are scarce, darling Jane,” said Elizabeth. “What excuse does he have for not dancing with anyone? If you will not ask Mr. Bingley for an introduction, I shall do it myself. Mr. Bingley seems quite genial, and I do not think he will deny me.”

  “Oh, indeed, he would not. No one would,” said Jane. “But it is so very forward.”

  “Lizzy is always thus,” said Kitty, giggling again.

  “That is not the case,” said Elizabeth. “I am not always forward.” But then the music stopped and the current dance was over. “Oh, now is my chance, there is no music. I must find Mr. Bingley before he begins another dance.” She pushed herself up on tiptoes, looking until she saw the man. “Excuse me, all of you. There he is.”

  “Lizzy!” said Jane. “Please.”

  But Elizabeth did not listen. She was already darting through the crowd to find Mr. Bingley. When she reached him, she realized that the other girls had all followed, even Jane.

  “Miss Bennet!” said Mr. Bingley, addressing Jane and not Elizabeth. His cheeks were rosy and he was a little bit out of breath, still recovering from the last dance. He was smiling widely, though, in fine spirits.

  “Mr. Bingley,” responded Jane, bowing her head and looking shy.

  “Mr. Bingley,” said Elizabeth, “I wonder if I could beg a favor of you, sir.”

  Mr. Bingley turned to her. “Miss Elizabeth, if it is within my ability to grant, I would be most pleased to do so.”

  Elizabeth gestured. “The gentleman in the corner? Might we have an introduction?”

  “Oh,” said Bingley, smiling even more widely. “Is that all? Well, certainly, of course. I am so terribly sorry that he is staying out of the way. I thought I had talked him into coming out into society a bit, but he is being most disagreeable. Truly, though, it is perhaps his first ball since the accident, and I suppose I see why he is feeling hesitant.” He looked over at Mr. Darcy in the shadows and then back to Elizabeth. “You know, Miss Elizabeth, I do wonder if it might be a bit much for him, all four of you at once?”

  “Is he quite shy, sir?” said Elizabeth, who was now bursting at the seams with curiosity about this man.

  “He has been in mourning for some time,” said Mr. Bingley. “He lost his younger sister tragically. He doted on her.”

  “Oh,” said Elizabeth, feeling some of her mirth drain away. “Why, how awful. I am deeply sorry.”

  “Perhaps if I only brought one of you to introduce,” said Mr. Bingley. “Perhaps that would not overwhelm him?”

  “All right,” said Elizabeth, looking back at the other girls.

  Kitty took this opportunity to giggle again.

  Everyone glared at her, and she stopped.

  Jane spoke up, her voice soft. “If the gentlemen is in such poor spirits, perhaps we ought to leave him alone.”

  “No, he is in want of cheering,” said Bingley. “I brought him here in the hopes that he might…” He sighed. “Well, perhaps you can lift his spirits, Miss Elizabeth. Would you?”

  Elizabeth’s lips parted. She had meant to scold the man, but now she was unsure of her approach. “I can try.”

  “That is all anyone can ask of himself,” said Bingley. “Come with me, then.”
>
  “Lizzy,” said Jane quietly. “Don’t be harsh with him.”

  “I won’t,” said Elizabeth, feeling a bit nervous now. Was she always harsh, then? If so, she was not sure that she could help it.

  Mr. Bingley had already started across the room. He looked back at her.

  She lifted her skirts to take quick steps to catch up.

  They walked together.

  “Listen,” said Mr. Bingley, “there is… well, he is self-conscious about his countenance.”

  “Oh, indeed?” Elizabeth did not know how to respond to this. Was Mr. Darcy frightfully ugly or something?

  “If you would… don’t stare,” said Mr. Bingley. “Although I know you would not. I can see, even in our brief acquaintance, that you are a well-bred and polite young lady, just as your elder sister is, and she is…” Mr. Bingley sighed a little. “Oh, your sister, Miss Elizabeth.”

  “Yes,” said Elizabeth. “She is quite the loveliest sister a girl could ask for.” There was no way not to love Jane. She was goodness personified.

  Mr. Bingley chuckled. “I am sorry. I must school my tongue, I believe. You will think me quite rude to express myself thus.”

  “Of course not, sir,” said Elizabeth.

  And then they were close, and Mr. Darcy loomed.

  She could only make out the edges of his jacket, the ends of his cravat. His neck and shoulders and face were entirely in shadow.

  They slowed and then came to a stop. They were closer, but she still could not make out his features. She only knew that he was tall, quite tall, and that his shoulders were broad, but his waist was tapered. He was formidable but appealing.

  Elizabeth felt even more nervous now.

  “Darcy,” said Mr. Bingley. “I wonder if I might present to you Miss Elizabeth Bennet?”

  “You can’t be serious, Bingley,” came the rumble of a voice from the corner. “I would be outside in the carriage if it were not so dreadfully cold. Indeed, I would be back at Netherfield if you had not pestered me to accompany you, and I would be holed up in Pemberley if you had not drowned me in letters begging for a visit. It seems to me that you are always asking for more. Cannot you be satisfied with any of my offerings?”

  Bingley cleared his throat. “I must apologize for Mr. Darcy, I’m afraid.”

  “No, indeed, it is not at all a problem,” said Elizabeth, squinting a bit, trying to see any hint of Mr. Darcy’s countenance, but unable to see anything. “I understand fully. Mr. Darcy has a great many grievances against you, Mr. Bingley. You have been rather a wonderful friend to him, and I can see why he must resent that greatly.”

  Mr. Bingley laughed a bit, but looked uncomfortable. “Now, now, Miss Elizabeth, you do not understand Mr. Darcy’s position—”

  “No, you are right.” Elizabeth regretted the words immediately. Her previous statement had been too sarcastic. She was meant to be kind to this strange man. “I should not have said such a thing. I was too hard on your friend. I do not know him. Indeed, I cannot know him, for I cannot even be introduced, and surely that must mean that his situation is quite dire. I cannot understand any of it, and I should not have spoken in such a manner. I do apologize, sir. I am quite sorry for what I said. I should have thought before I said it.”

  “No, no,” said Mr. Bingley. “Mr. Darcy, please. Will you be introduced to the young lady? Why have you come to a ball if you will not see anyone or speak to anyone?”

  “Yes, I must admit,” said Elizabeth, “it is a strange way to occupy oneself in company.”

  A chuckle from the darkness. “Yes, I suppose it is I who should apologize. Of course I will be introduced. It is a great pleasure to meet you, Miss Bennet. And I would not censure what you have said. You are correct, of course. You have spoken it all rather well and rather quickly. Indeed, I wish my horse had the speed of thy tongue.”

  Elizabeth pursed her lips. She did not know him well enough to be certain whether he meant the words ironically or not, but she did recognize the quote. “Why, Sir Benedick means that as an insult in the play, Mr. Darcy.”

  “Does he?” said Mr. Darcy. “Well, I assure you, I meant it sincerely. I should be quite happy to listen to you talk, Miss Bennet. Not only because I enjoy the subject of your speech, but your voice has rather a pleasing tone. You have come here to meet me, so will you consent to stay and talk a while? Was that your desire when you came to me?”

  “Well, if I am honest,” said Elizabeth, “I came to ask why a man would refuse to dance at a ball when there are not nearly enough gentleman to go round.” She cringed. “But I have been instructed not to be so with you, and to be lively, and been told that you have reasons for your melancholy, and so I should have not said that either. I am not sure, sir, if it is the speed of my tongue that is to be blamed or the sluggishness of my wit.”

  Mr. Darcy laughed again.

  Mr. Bingley was looking back and forth between them, seemingly a bit confuddled. He turned to Darcy. “I say, Darcy, I would have you dance. That is why we are here. I brought you here for that purpose exclusively.”

  “And would Miss Bennet wish to dance with me?” said Mr. Darcy.

  “Is that a request, sir?” said Elizabeth.

  “Perhaps you would care to see what you would be agreeing to dance with before giving an answer,” said Mr. Darcy, and he stepped forward, and the lamplight spread across his face, and Elizabeth barely managed to stifle a sound of surprise.

  Mr. Darcy’s face was badly scarred. His nose was crooked as though it had been broken in several places, and his skin was a mass of twisting, pink, and painful flesh. One eye and one cheek were unmarred, and she could see that he had once been a handsome man with a strong visage. There was still a haughty look in his eyes.

  Elizabeth knew she had been told not to stare, but it seemed equally as rude to look away, so she lifted her chin and met his gaze steadily. “I would be quite happy to dance with you, sir.”

  “Ah, but you would say, as Benedick does, ‘By this light, I take thee for pity,’” said Mr. Darcy. “So, I think I shall not dance.” He retreated into the shadows again. “In fact, I think I shall go back to the carriage after all, never mind the cold.”

  * * *

  “Darcy,” came Bingley’s voice, and then his hand on his friend’s shoulder.

  Mr. Darcy stopped walking, but he did not turn to face Mr. Bingley. He was outside the ball, back in his coat and hat, and he was only steps from the coach. The air out here was cold, but it was not so punishing as he might expect. He could bear it.

  “I am sorry,” said Bingley. “I should not have done that.”

  “No, I should not have come,” said Darcy.

  “I should not have pushed you,” said Bingley. “I only thought it would do you good, a bit of fun. You have had no pleasure in nine months, I daresay.”

  Darcy did turn to look at him. “It is not your fault. I thought perhaps I could…” He trailed off. It had seemed possible when he and Bingley had been discussing it in the drawing room at Netherfield. After all, it was not as though this was some high society ball in London amongst the ton. This was only a small country gathering with country gentlemen and their daughters. Bingley was right. If there was a place and a time to ease his way back amongst others, this was the place to do it.

  But then they arrived, and he knew it was impossible.

  “It is your pride,” said Bingley. “But I tell you, it does not matter. One dance—”

  “They would be whispering about me all night,” said Mr. Darcy. “I’m sorry, no, I can’t bear it.”

  “You are being ridiculous,” said Bingley. “No one would care. You are Darcy of Pemberley, and these women are good and kind souls, who would be more interested in who you are than your face. I tell you, it does not matter.”

  Darcy didn’t say anything.

  “I hesitate to say anything, but you are hiding out of vanity—”

  “Please, Bingley,” said Darcy. “You do not know of what you s
peak. Besides, I feel I must find somewhere to sit down.” His injuries had not only scarred his face, but damaged his leg as well. He had gone without his cane for the night, but he regretted it now, especially outside. The cold was making him ache.

  “We shall leave,” said Bingley. “We’ll be off at once.”

  “No, don’t trouble yourself,” said Darcy. “I’ll go back to Netherfield and send the carriage back for you and the others. The distance is not so far as to prohibit that.”

  “If that is what you wish,” said Mr. Bingley.

  “It is,” said Mr. Darcy. In the end, it wasn’t the injuries themselves that pained him so much. Nor was it the scars. It wasn’t the physical pain either. It was only that it was all there, written across his face as a permanent reminder of his failure. It was a sign of the fact that he was less than a man, that he was unable to complete his duties, and that he was worthless.

  * * *

  Elizabeth was waiting at the doorway to the assembly when Mr. Bingley returned alone. “I am so very sorry,” she said to him. “I chased him away, did I not?”

  “It is not your fault,” said Mr. Bingley. “I did not properly prepare you. I should have told you what to expect. And perhaps I should not have insisted upon his attendance tonight as well.”

  “You did prepare me,” said Elizabeth. “You told me that he had been in mourning, that he was embarrassed of his face. You told me everything, and I was monstrous to him.”

  “No, no.” Mr. Bingley shook his head, giving her one of his wide smiles. “He is quite capable of bearing it, let me assure you. He is a proud man, I am afraid. He has been, all his life, told that he is superior and special, and now, this is all a blow to him. He cannot bear to be seen in that way.”

  Elizabeth was not sure that was all it was. Something in the turn of Mr. Darcy’s phrase, the wryness with which he had spoken to her, she felt as if it went deeper than that, that something was very broken inside that man.

  But she had to admit that Mr. Darcy was right.

  Her primary emotion when it came to him now was pity.

  She could see how a man might not wish to be regarded so. Perhaps that was pride, but she didn’t blame him for it.