It’s time to begin a new story, and this time, I’m going to give you the whole thing. It may not always be entire chapters, but it will be a complete story instead of excerpts. It will take longer to post that way, and will not be the only story I am writing, but I won’t be teasing you, either. 😀 Darcy Overhears is a working title. I might change as I come nearer to publication.
Today’s post is short at just 427 words.
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Militia Headquarters, Meryton
Fitzwilliam Darcy, Charles Bingley, and Reginald Hurst stopped in their tracks when they heard the name of Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Looking at each other, they remained silent as they listened to the voices on the other side of the door.
“Miss Elizabeth? I thought you might make Miss Lydia your goal. She seems far easier to persuade than her sister.”
“Oh, she is, I grant you that. However, there is a particular reason for setting my sights on the prim and proper Miss Elizabeth.”
Darcy stiffened as he recognized the voice. He choked back the growl that rose in his throat, his gaze riveted to the door behind which his greatest enemy stood.
The other officer laughed at his mate’s words. “What other reason?”
“Why, to get back at Darcy, of course! Did you not see the look in his eye when he saw her on the street yesterday? I have known Darcy since childhood; I can read him like a book. He is infatuated with Miss Elizabeth, and the best revenge I can get is to ruin the woman he loves. He took what I wanted, twice. Now I will take what he wants.”
Without realizing it, Darcy surged toward the door, ready to rip the man’s heart out with his bare hands for threatening a gentlewoman, but Bingley and Hurst pulled him back.
“Do not do it,” Bingley whispered. “Let us get in the carriage. We can speak about it there.”
For a moment, Darcy resisted, but when his friends began to drag him toward the door, he relented, letting down his stance and allowing them to guide him outside. Still, he fumed inside. Within moments, the three were in Bingley’s carriage, heading back to Netherfield.
“You are acquainted with the man who was speaking?” Hurst was a simple man, more interested in food and sport than anything else, but he was more observant than most gave him credit for being.
Darcy nodded and then, realizing that no one could see him in the dark of the carriage, said, “Yes,” and fell silent once more, knowing he was incapable of speaking calmly at the present time.
Bingley, having been a long-time friend of Darcy’s, recognized the signs of the gentleman’s continued distress. He did the speaking, in place of his friend.
“The officer we heard speaking is a man named George Wickham. He grew up with Darcy but fell into disreputable habits at University.”
“Ah,” Hurst exclaimed. “A gambler?”
“I am not surprised after hearing what he said this evening.”
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