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Chapter Text

It is a truth universally acknowledged that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the immovable, proud, austere and disgustingly rich gentleman who owns Pemberley and half of Derbyshire, absolutely has no romantic bone in his body. Well, that's what the ton thinks is truth anyway.

Ever since the time he stepped foot in society, he always upheld himself as a gentleman in all sense of the word - his bearing was filled with nobility despite not having a title of his own, his manners impeccable and faultless, his face pleasing and handsome, and his actions polite and direct. He never engaged in what he deemed were "follies of men", including gambling, indulging in liquor and women, and so forth. He was not to be laughed at, with his holdings bearing an income approximated as ten thousand a year for Pemberley alone, not inclusive of his other estates in London and so. He upheld propriety with the most utmost importance, never failing to do as society dictates. Surely, such an upright, faultless man would have no such scruples in garnering the favour of women, much less waste his time in ensuring their good opinion. The debutantes and long-standing matrons and their daughters preyed on him, deeming him the perfect catch for themselves or their daughters. Indeed, who in Britain would dare think he is not perfect with his perfect manners, income, estates, and propriety? Never a touch too long, or a conversation too unnecessary; neither any manner nor any behaviour that would give rise to expectations in a society filled with eagle eyes.

Therefore, society thinks, perhaps Mr. Darcy simply did not have time nor any particular reason to be a romantic. It was simply unheard of that a man with such regal bearing would indulge himself in the commonalities of men. Some would even venture to say that perhaps, he was quite allergic to feelings and romanticisms. 

That was, until marriage banns were read for the union of Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire.

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"It must be compromise orchestrated by that country chit, there is simply no way that a woman with no connections or fortune would entrap someone as dutiful and upstanding as Mr. Darcy!"

"She probably used her arts and allurements to make Darcy forget his duty, and she managed to do it more successfully than us."

"He probably hates her and married her out of duty."

The ton gathered to watch the new couple during their wedding ball, and there was no denying of the immediate spark and presence that filled the ballroom. Mr. Darcy, with all his ten-thousand-a-year glory, stood proudly beside a beautiful young woman whose eyes were so very fine that they sparkled against the candlelight. The ton watched carefully as Mr. Darcy walked his wife towards his uncle and aunt, the Earl and Countess of Matlock respectively, and greeted them. They were received with warm receptions from the two, and the second son of the Earl, Colonel Richard Fitzwilliam, requested the second set with Mrs. Darcy, while the Earl requested the third. The ton looked on in some fascination at this reception. Surely, the Earl, Countess, and their son would not stand a woman conniving enough. Perhaps this woman was clever enough to garner their approval.

When some members of the ton requested an introduction, they were quite surprised at the manner of which it occurred. Mr. Darcy would bow in his usual manner, then proceed to say "It is my pleasure to introduce to you Mrs. Darcy, I am her husband". It in itself is not so unusual, but often, the ton has heard introductions among the lines of "This is my wife" instead of "I am her husband".

As Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy opened the ball, all eyes were on them. The way his hands lingered on her figure and his eyes stared at her with an intensity enough to light the candles of the ballroom spoke volumes, but nothing was as loud as the beautiful smile etched on his face being mirrored by his wife as they graced the ballroom. He saw her, and only her, and she only him. Nobody, not even the jealous eyes that trailed, could deny the radiating joy from the couple, as they begin to grudgingly admit that perhaps Mrs. Darcy did not, in fact, compromise Mr. Darcy after all.

The dance sets proceeded for the rest of the night, eyes following the newlyweds in their interactions with others and with each other. The ladies and the gentlemen were noting how the Darcys' eyes never left each other, seemingly communicating with every twitch of a face and sparkle of an eye. When they were not engaged with other people, they were found within each other's vicinity engaging each other in conversation or refreshments. A laugh was shared, a smile was given, a look or two was communicated. Nobody has ever seen a happier man than Mr. Darcy, and Mr. Darcy was not what you would call "a happy man". Ah, he has found someone who understands him, good for him.

By the last set, which Mr. Darcy danced with his wife, society was quite thoroughly convinced that Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy was content with one another. Only the embittered debutantes and matrons who had set their cap on him, or the begrudging gentlemen who saw her worth reviled in the match, otherwise most members of the ton began seeing that there was some merit to Mr. Darcy marrying the present Mrs. Darcy. He had an air of contentment and joy whenever she was around, which she always was as he made sure to never leave her vicinity. It was unusual for people of the ton to see a match where they were contented with each other, especially from Mr. Darcy of all people, but they suppose he had everything except joy. He'll get bored of her soon once she stops complying to his whims.

Even through supper, people cautiously watched them for any giveaways of the true nature of their marriage. As Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Darcy sat next to each other, he indulged her with the finest choices of each course that he was able to get. Mrs. Darcy watched in amusement as Mr. Darcy pulled out her chair for her, got her supper, and ensured her comfort for every moment. The ton was undeniably getting jealous of Mrs. Darcy, not just for her newfound wealth and connections, but the attentions of Mr. Darcy - the man they previously believed was physically incapable of smiling. He is rather attentive to her.

It was all within the bounds of propriety, anyhow, so they did not mind it much - only that someone would put so much effort in their wife. That was, until, Mr. Darcy began acting most strange. He poked a slice of beef from his plate and fed it to Mrs. Darcy willingly. That scandalized some of the ton who were watching. Has she degraded him to a servant?! One look at Mrs. Darcy's amusement and embarrassment showed that she did not expect such a display, but the way her eyes lovingly met his while eating the offered slice of beef told society that she had not intended for that, and that Mr. Darcy was the sole reason for his own actions. This night could not get any weirder...

Alas it did, as supper ended, they spied Mr. Darcy's hand inching closer to Mrs. Darcy's. When their fingers touched beneath their gloves, they heard Mrs. Darcy ask "Sir, what do you think you're doing?" with a laugh in her voice. "Trying to gain your hand, of course," Mr. Darcy's eyes twinkled as he tapped her finger. "Sir! By the by, we are already married, surely you know that not only my hand but also my whole being is yours, or have you already forgotten?" Mrs. Darcy laughed, taking his hand in hers. "Well, perhaps you'll have to remind me frequently," Mr. Darcy smiled, looking down at their intertwined hands. So Mr. Darcy knows how to be a romantic after all.

For the remainder of the night, Mr. Darcy was around Mrs. Darcy, seemingly eager to touch her whenever he could with as much as propriety as polite society allows. A hand on her waist as they both spoke to other members of society, intertwined hands, Mr. Darcy's protective stance in perceived slights, her arm wrapped around his, it was all too sappy for the ton. Some matrons cringed at the amount of affection being displayed, some gentlemen looked on in envy, and other ladies started dreaming that they received even half the love Mrs. Darcy was. Mr. Darcy could not seem to get his hands off Elizabeth, which was quite a shocking display for society as he never liked being around people, much less touching people in general. Whenever Mrs. Darcy was talking with someone else, his hands always found a way on her waist or on her arm, which Mrs. Darcy did not seem to mind (except a few ladies claimed that they heard Mrs. Darcy scold Mr. Darcy for his protectiveness, only to be met with a sheepish Mr. Darcy rubbing his neck).

The ton agreed that Mr. Darcy is irrevocably in love with his wife, and while his wife loved him back, Mr. Darcy was lovesick beyond redemption. They were slightly scandalized by this open affection, and in such a shock that their gossips took a rather abrupt turn by the end of the night.

"I'm beginning to think that Mr. Darcy compromised poor Mrs. Darcy instead..."

"Knowing what I do of Mrs. Darcy's nature, Mr. Darcy probably groveled at her feet and used his own arts and allurements!"

"He made it his duty to be her husband".

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Callers did not cease despite this, and every visit to the couple only furthered their assumptions that it was Mr. Darcy who was at the mercy of his wife. They had thought that Mrs. Darcy bowed to every whim of Mr. Darcy to keep him, but the opposite is ringing truer with every occasion they observed. He consulted her for every matter as equals, discussing and debating, giving true considerations to her opinions. They had never seen them fight despite Mrs. Darcy not always agreeing with her husband, and they resolved matters in such a manner that Mr. Darcy did not lose his authority as the head of the house, but also did not degrade Mrs. Darcy's understanding. They had mutual respect for each other, with Mrs. Darcy also caring diligently for Mr. Darcy and standing up for and with him in all matters. They were truly a well-matched couple, adhering to their duties as husband and wife, but not without love and affection for each other. Especially on Mr. Darcy's side for the latter. He seemed a bit too eager to be a perfect husband. Was it because of his dutifulness to be a perfect husband, or perhaps a deep sense of love?

A new joke emerged from the frequent observations of the ton (and then to the servants by association), although they would never mention it to the couple out loud.

With how much Mr. Darcy is eager to please, one would think that it was Mr. Darcy who took on Mrs. Darcy's last name. Perhaps it is more befitting to call him Mr. Fitzwilliam Bennet nee Darcy.

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Perhaps, they would never mention it to the couple out loud intentionally.

In one particular visit, Lady Greenwood visited the Darcys and the Fitzwilliams for dinner, and they were having the most lively conversation at the table. Engrossed by the lively spirits, she had forgotten herself and blurted aloud in reply to a particular funny anecdote by Darcy "Well, Mr. Fitzwilliam Bennet, you've simply outdone yourself!". She had not realized what she said until the room fell silent, and her words caught up to her. She gasped and covered her mouth in surprise and embarrassment, wide eyes and dropped jaws staring at her unbecomingly. Richard Fitzwilliam, one for humour and antics, began silently chuckling, which Elizabeth caught and began laughing herself, and in a wildfire, laughter erupted in the dining table. Elizabeth and Richard were wiping away tears of mirth, as Darcy could not help but chuckle in the contagious environment of the room and in complete incredulity and absurdity of the situation. "Lady Greenwood! What ever made you call our poor Darcy here Fitzwilliam Bennet?" the Countess asked as she began easing out in her laughter. "Well," Lady Greenwood pressed on in embarrassment, "there has been a rumour in the ton that Darcy here is so infatuated with his wife that they speculated that he married her instead of she married him, if that makes any sense." Elizabeth laughed even harder at that, and Darcy scoffed in indignation, not without a red tinge spreading across his cheeks. "They nicknamed him Mr. Fitzwilliam Bennet nee Darcy within themselves, but please do not ever tell them it was through me you found this out, Lady Camila would be insufferable!" Lady Greenwood laughed, earning another round of mirth in the table at Darcy being addressed as thus. Darcy was unused to being laughed at, but he saw the humour in the situation. Besides, the way Elizabeth's smile reached her eyes and her laughter echoed through the room was as if the most beautiful orchestra has presented themselves before him. Upon realizing this train of thoughts, he grinned and joined the laughter because he could not agree more with his obsession towards his wife.

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While they never found out who started such a rumour, Elizabeth never failed to remind her husband of this nickname, calling him "Mr. Fitzwilliam Bennet" whenever he became overly protective to the brink of unreasonableness. Fitzwilliam would have none of it, and reminded Elizabeth that if he were "Mr. Bennet", that would make her "Mrs. Bennet", and that would effectively shut her up before a playful tête-à-tête occurred. Nonetheless, the ton was slightly embarrassed at having their nickname found out, but seeing the couple take it in good humour, the Darcys earned the respect of the ton much more, earning them the connections that Mrs. Darcy could not bring into the marriage.

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It is a truth universally acknowledged that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, the immovable, proud, austere and disgustingly rich gentleman who owns Pemberley and half of Derbyshire, is ardently in love and in admiration of his wife, and is probably the most romantic man to ever exist.

Ever since the time he stepped foot in society with Elizabeth, he always upheld himself as a husband in all sense of the word - his bearing was filled with love and joy despite not having a wife with money or connections, his manners much more easygoing and open, his face pleasing and handsome, and his actions protective and caring. He never engaged in what he deemed were "follies of men", including gambling, indulging in liquor and mistresses, and so forth. He found the humour at being laughed at once in a while, as long as it did not do any damage to his family or any serious repercussions to his reputation. He upheld propriety with importance, but he never failed to put his duty as a husband first. Surely, such a loving, affectionate man would have no such scruples in garnering the favour of his wife, much more use his time in ensuring her good opinion. Society no longer bothered him with finding what they deem to be a perfect wife, because the perfect wife was already in his arms. Indeed, who in Britain would dare think she is not perfect with her perfect manners, wit, intelligence, love, and kindness? He always gave a touch too long, or even conversation too unnecessary just to talk to her; neither any hostility nor any distance between them that would give concerns and speculations in a society filled with eagle eyes.

Therefore, society thinks, perhaps Mr. Darcy simply did have time to be a romantic for all the right reasons. It was simply unheard of that a man as in love as Mr. Darcy would not use every moment to prove himself worthy of his wife. Some would even venture to say that perhaps, he was quite a master at feelings and romanticisms. 

That all began when the marriage banns were read for the union of Miss Elizabeth Bennet of Hertfordshire to Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Derbyshire.

Chapter Text

Some other fanarts that were made in the same batch but were not necessarily part of the fanfic: