An Opinion Once Formed

This idea came to me the other night, and I had to write it down—in bed, in the middle of the night—before I could go back to sleep.

What if Elizabeth had said just a little more to Darcy at the Netherfield ball? What if, instead of leaving Hertfordshire still believing that she admired him, Darcy had learned precisely what Elizabeth thought of him—and, more importantly, when she had formed that opinion?

I couldn’t let the idea go. I started playing with what might change if Darcy learned the truth before he ever left Netherfield, and somehow that turned into more than 4,000 words and the first two chapters of another story I absolutely did not intend to start.

A great deal of it was dictated on my way home from work, which is always interesting. Dictation software and my southern(ish) accent do not necessarily agree on what constitutes the English language, so cleaning it up afterward was an adventure.

Anyway, I thought I would share the first part with you. I’d love to know what you think of this particular what if—and whether you think Darcy might actually listen when someone finally tells him a few things he does not particularly want to hear.

Elizabeth could not let the matter drop. She finished the dance in silence, but when Mr Darcy offered his arm at its conclusion, she refused it.

“My opinion of you was formed the very evening we met—or rather, the evening you refused to be introduced to me,” she whispered. The words sounded almost like a hiss to her own ears, so angry was she still. “All I have learnt since is that you are as arrogant as I first believed, and that your arrogance may extend even to cruelty. Perhaps it is too much to suppose that you will put aside your obvious distaste for my family, sir, but I beg you not to allow your opinion of us to influence your friend. My sister has been given reason to hope.”

Whatever response she had expected, it was not the one she received.

Mr Darcy stared at her.

For one strange moment, all the hauteur seemed to leave his countenance.

Elizabeth did not wait for it to return. Instead, she walked quickly from the room, leaving the dance floor and seeking solace in one of the retiring rooms.

She prayed she had not said too much and that, just perhaps, Mr Darcy might not retaliate against her family by taking Mr Bingley away. But it had seemed so obvious that, after Sir William’s speech, he was thinking of doing just that.

When she returned some minutes later, she was surprised to find that Mr Darcy was no longer in the company. Briefly, she considered whether she ought to apologise. She could not regret what she had said on Jane’s behalf, though perhaps she might regret the manner in which she had said it. It was obvious that the man held her family, and indeed all the residents of Meryton, in contempt, but she would not wish to give him reason to think her as ill-mannered as he apparently believed them all to be.

For a long moment after Elizabeth left him standing at the edge of the dance floor, Darcy stood watching after her. He could hardly believe what she had said. Truly, he had believed that she admired him, for had she not usually flirted with him? When she had been staying at Netherfield, he had thought they engaged in debates and teasing and that she had rather enjoyed his company. That had been why, on that Saturday, he had not engaged her in conversation when they had been seated in the library, for he had not wished to give rise to expectations.

That evening’s dance had been meant as something of a farewell, for he intended to follow Bingley to Town on the morrow, but he had wished to dance with her at least once.

He might have blamed Wickham for her hostility towards him, but her words returned to him.

My opinion of you was formed the very evening we met.

Wickham had not even been in Hertfordshire then.

Realising that now was not the time for such thoughts, and seeing Miss Bingley making her way towards him, Darcy decided he needed to retire. He had not meant to leave the company so early, but just now, he realised he was incapable of remaining below.

It took some considerable effort, but he managed to escape the ballroom unobserved, or, at least, so he believed. He would have liked to explain himself to Bingley, but that seemed impossible now, for Bingley could scarcely be separated from Miss Bennet.

Once again, Elizabeth’s words came back to his mind. He ought, perhaps, to think of her as Miss Elizabeth, but no matter how hard he tried, in the privacy of his own thoughts she remained Elizabeth. She had come near to begging—or at least as close as a woman like Elizabeth might ever beg from a man she clearly detested—that he not separate her sister from his friend.

At this point, he could be certain that Elizabeth was no fortune hunter, and perhaps he could ascribe the same to her sister. He could not be certain that Miss Bennet would not be influenced by Mrs Bennet, but, at the very least, Elizabeth’s appeal suggested that her sister’s feelings might be stronger than he had supposed.

Of course, Darcy thought bitterly. What reason have I to suppose my judgement of a woman’s feelings particularly acute? I have apparently mistaken dislike for admiration.

His thoughts did not cease when he entered his room. He replayed every interaction with Elizabeth in his mind, trying to discover what he had done to earn such antipathy. She had told him plainly enough when her opinion had been formed: the first evening they were in company.

He winced at the memory of her words. It seemed that he had refused even to meet her that first evening. He could scarcely recall the assembly, only that it had been noisy and too warm, and that he had not been in any mood to humour anyone.

“Fletcher,” Darcy said upon seeing his valet, “I have decided that we shall depart at first light. I trust you have already completed most of our packing, but if you would send word to the stables to have my carriage prepared early, I would appreciate it.”

“Of course, sir,” Fletcher replied. “May I ask whether something has happened this evening to make our departure more urgent?”

“Merely that I wish to be away from here,” Darcy said as he began to untie his cravat.

Fletcher stepped closer to assist him, then helped him out of his boots. Other than a brief word of thanks, Darcy remained silent as Elizabeth’s words ran again and again through his mind.

Finally, just as his valet began to leave, Darcy called out. “Fletcher, what do you recall of the assembly at Meryton?”

His valet turned to him in surprise. Darcy saw something in his expression and felt the need to explain further.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet informed me this evening that her opinion of me was formed upon our first meeting. I confess I cannot recollect what I might have done to offend her so decidedly.”

Fletcher did not answer immediately, and the silence stretched long enough that Darcy almost wondered whether he had heard him.

After several moments, however, he did speak, and Darcy almost wished he had not.

“You were in a foul humour that evening, if you recall,” Fletcher said. “You had received a letter from Georgiana not long before you departed, and I believe that made you even less inclined for society than usual.”

“Yes,” Darcy said, wondering what it was his servant still hesitated to tell him. Fletcher had been with him since Darcy had gone away to school as a lad and had always been one of the few people in his life willing to speak honestly to him.

“As I understand it, you stalked about the room, speaking to very few people and refusing several introductions,” Fletcher continued. “But the worst of it came when Mr Bingley offered to introduce you to a young lady and you insulted her, calling her ‘tolerable’ and ‘not handsome enough to tempt you.’ There was something more about your not being inclined to give consequence to young ladies slighted by other men.”

Darcy stared at him.

Fletcher looked distinctly uncomfortable now, but continued. “The lady had been sitting out, sir, though not because she lacked partners. There were too few gentlemen present, and several of the older young ladies were accustomed to sit out a dance or two so that the younger girls might have more opportunity to dance.”

A cold sensation settled in Darcy’s stomach.

“Which young lady?”

Fletcher’s expression told him the answer before he spoke.

“Miss Elizabeth Bennet, sir.”

For several long minutes, Darcy simply sat there, unable to speak.

Now that Fletcher had reminded him, he could remember that evening. He recalled standing in a corner of the room and Bingley pestering him to dance. Of course, Darcy had not wished to dance that evening; he had told his friend as much even on the carriage ride from Netherfield to the assembly rooms. But Bingley, as usual, had been convinced that everyone ought to dance merely because he himself enjoyed the activity.

Darcy also recalled the letter from Georgiana. It was the first she had sent him since his arrival at Netherfield, which admittedly had only been a few days, but in it she had seemed so sad.

Therefore, when Bingley had suggested that he dance with a young woman—and now Darcy recalled that Bingley himself had been dancing with Miss Bennet—Darcy had looked towards the woman whom he now knew to have been Elizabeth Bennet, proclaimed her tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt him, and completely refused to be introduced.

Even as he had spoken the words, he had known he ought not to have done so. He knew his mother would have been angry with him, had she lived to see him treat any woman so poorly.

But if he were completely honest with himself, he had scarcely thought of those words again after that night.

It had been less than a se’nnight later when he had looked at Elizabeth Bennet for the first time—really looked at her. That evening, he had been introduced to her. She had teased him, he had thought, but perhaps now he ought to call it provoking him. And he, in his arrogance, had seen it all as flirtation.

He had believed her to be like all the other women of the ton even as he admired her because she was not like them.

Darcy scrubbed his hands across his face.

“I can think on this no longer this evening,” he said. “Fletcher, I appreciate your candour, but I think it best that you leave me to myself. I shall see you in the morning.”

“Of course, sir,” Fletcher replied. “Would you like me to wake you at seven as usual, or earlier?”

“I believe I shall rise at six. I shall want a quick wash and some strong coffee before we depart. And I shall need to write to Bingley, explaining why I am leaving so suddenly when we had intended to travel together later in the morning.”

“Of course, sir.”

And that is where I think I will leave Darcy for now—heading for London with a great deal more to think about than he expected when he asked Elizabeth Bennet to dance.

I’m calling this one An Opinion Once Formed, at least for now. It seems particularly appropriate when both Elizabeth and Darcy have been so very certain of their opinions—and both of them may have reason to reconsider a few things.

I already know a little of what happens next. Darcy has a long carriage ride to London ahead of him, with only Fletcher for company, and I suspect his valet knows rather more about both his master and the gossip of Meryton than Darcy realises.

This little what if has already grown into more than 4,000 words and two chapters, so it may eventually find its way onto the ever-growing list of stories I need to finish.

In the meantime, I’d love to know what you think. If Darcy learned this early that Elizabeth disliked him, what do you think he would change first?

Thanks so much for reading and supporting my work.

— Melissa Anne 💙

Leave a comment