Chapter Text
Looking out at the bleak streets of London, Darcy sighed. They seem to reflect my inner state rather accurately. Several months had passed since his failed proposal to one Miss Elizabeth Bennet, and Darcy would have thought he would be able to move past it. However, he still thought of her at least once every hour. More like once every minute. Darcy grumped to himself. How am I ever going to move past her? Why is she the only woman I have ever been fascinated by? Everything about her suited me so well. I love her teasing nature and her approach to life. He did not realize that a small smile crept across his face. When I think about the way she handled Aunt Catherine at Rosings. What a marvel. He shook his head at himself firmly. But I am not to see her again, so dreaming about her is not helping anything.
Darcy unconsciously adjusted his bound wings, held tightly in a binder that strapped several times around him, culminating in a relatively small bump on his back. Darcy had always thought of them as outside of himself. A strange aberration against nature. It was not that they were completely rare. Enough people had them to make them rather popular. In fact, when Darcy had been at Cambridge it had been quite the fashion for the young men to pretend to be winged. Usually, they were taken as a sign of prestige. They gave you a little step up against anyone else because they were magnificent to look at.
However, Darcy’s were different and even rarer in the wing phenomenon. His wings were huge, having thrice the wingspan of his own arms compared to the more typical two. They were rich and velvety, and Georgiana would often help him groom them, enjoying the wonderful feel of them. No, what made Darcy’s wings problematic for him was the color. When he was born, his mother had taken an immediate dislike to them. Darcy always secretly wondered what she thought of him, as the wings were attached to him. But he would try to push that thought aside. She had died so many years ago, and he had rather embraced her feelings of his wings. Since she always bound them when he was young, he continued doing so after she passed.
Of the few people who knew about Darcy’s wings, an even fewer number had seen them. Georgiana was constantly telling him how beautiful they were, but he could not quite allow himself to believe her. If they are so beautiful, why did Mother shudder at the sight of them? She barely touched me as it was, but if my wings were out, she could not bring herself to touch me for at least a month after seeing them. Darcy shook his head. Why am I thinking about all of this again?
His wings itched to be free, as if responding to his question. I suppose it has been several months since I have let them out. They were pestering him constantly because it had, in fact, been over a year since they had been properly free to fly. I will ignore them for the time being. It is not as if it matters. I cannot damage them. Darcy looked out of the window darkly. I almost wish I could. Is there something in me tainted? The wings knew I would be this way and so marked me? Elizabeth did not even know of the wings and easily marked me as the last man on earth she would ever consider marrying.
Darcy took a deep breath and turned quickly away from the window, trying to leave his thoughts with it. He sat down at his desk, which was neatly organized. He had gotten rather into organization over the past several months. And he searched in vain for something to do. He was sure his accounts had never been so carefully poured over, checked and double checked. He had reorganized all of the books in his library in London, making a comprehensive list of them to cross check them against the list he intended to create at Pemberley.
He reached behind his back and itched again at the place where his wings joined into his back. With his head down, reading a letter he would normally have simply discarded, he barely noticed the opening of the door.
“Are they bothering you again, Brother?” Georgiana asked as she walked in.
His head shot up. “Georgie! How are you this morning?”
“I am very well, thank you for asking. Now, do not avoid my question. Are your wings bothering you? Do you need to unbind them and let me help you groom them?”
She almost sounded eager, which brought a fond smile to Darcy’s face. At least they do not disgust Georgiana, but heaven knows why. He picked a bit at the binder. It is terribly uncomfortable.
Georgiana grabbed his arm, “Come on, William. Let us go to the library. Now that you have finally put all the books back where they belong, it will give us ample room to care for your wings.” She practically dragged him behind her, but he could feel a smile tugging at his lips. Why was I blessed with such a wonderful sister?
Georgiana directed him to their favorite place to do this. It mostly hid Darcy from view if anyone were to inadvertently come in the room, and Georgiana was able to get rid of them quickly enough before they ever saw the wings unbound. Most of the staff at Pemberley and at their house in London knew about the master’s wings but liked their place enough to not talk about them, especially as none of them had actually seen them, making them feel more like a rumor rather than reality. It was hard to picture their perfectly put together master with a set of enormous wings sprouting from his back. Or at least, that is what Darcy imagined.
“William. Come on. I need your help.” Georgiana mumbled as she tried to pull the binder off her brother. “Why is this thing so difficult to manage.”
Darcy turned around to her laughing. “You have been doing this ever since you were a little girl and you still have trouble over it.” He undid the buckles quickly enough, sighing in relief as they sprung free.
Georgiana let out a small gasp. “Even so, I never get tired of seeing your wings, William.” She quickly set about her task, happily helping her brother.
Darcy stretched his wings out. Wow. I really do need this. He curved them playfully around Georgiana who giggled. She has never been scared of them. Could I ever find someone to accept them?
The Darcys owned quite a few books on the winged, which Mrs. Darcy had read voraciously once her child was revealed to be one of them. The books were hardly an exhaustive exploration into the phenomena, but they did hold some very good illustrations of the types of wings people had. And of their colorings. Mrs. Darcy was troubled by how unnatural the whole thing seemed to her, but really it was because her son had inky black wings that seemed to swallow all light. Worse still, they seemed to be tipped in bright red paint. None of the books they owned or the other ones she procured ever had a person with such pure black wings, tinged in red. Perhaps if Mrs. Darcy had not first thought of Satan, she would have come around to accept her son, but she did first think of the devil. She was always worried that she had given birth to Satan on earth, and therefore told everyone that others would think the same. She wanted to spare her child the branding of being the devil, and so had taken pains to keep the wings hidden from everyone.
Georgiana was too young to remember her mother, and she thought that Darcy simply did not want the additional attention being winged would be sure to bring him, especially when getting married. If she had known it was tied to the fact that when Darcy was a boy, he was used to hearing his mother mumble about how he was the devil born on earth, she would have been horrified. She thought the wings categorically magnificent, and she especially loved the color. They suited her brother so well. Stern, but somehow incredibly warm. Fearsome yet kind. She smiled as she stroked the feathers gently.
“You should fly back to Pemberley, you know. You have that one suit I commissioned for you, like such a good sister. It fits you so well, and lets your wings be free! No one would know it was you, especially if you flew high enough, and it would do you some good. If you are worried, carry your binder and one of your other shirts with you. It has been far too long since you actually used them.” She poked Darcy who yelped a little.
“Georgie!”
“Well, admit it. When was the last time you flew? And I mean flew flew!”
“I am not really sure. I cannot rightly remember.”
“Well, that is answer enough. Tell everyone you need to go ahead by a few days on business or something and have Thomas ride your horse to Pemberley.”
Darcy could not help laughing. “You have it all planned out for me.”
“Of course, I do. Someone needs to make sure you take care of yourself, Brother.”
Darcy turned around, hugging his sister. “Thank you, Georgiana.”
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Darcy had decided to listen to Georgiana and had never been so happy to. It was the perfect day for flying. Clear, bright, warm, and wonderful. He had taken off from Hyde Park where the winged were allowed to fly if they would like. Sometimes it garnered a large crowd who wanted to watch the amazing sight of so many winged flying. But Darcy made sure he woke up early enough that there was no one about – at least no one who could see the colors of his wings, it being still too dark to see.
He wove in and out of the clouds, making it a game for himself, feeling free and happy. It always seemed to be like this when he would fly. It felt as if he could touch the sun, and he felt more at peace with the world in the air. Yet, he did it so rarely because his mother’s feelings still itched at the back of his mind. Always. A constant worry that was rarely consciously acknowledged.
Let it go. Do not think about it. This is the time to enjoy what you do not often get to do, Darcy. He wheeled around in ever widening arcs, simply luxuriating in the feeling.
After what seemed too short a time, Darcy spied Pemberley. He thought the house looked at its best advantage from the sky, but he had only even taken Georgiana up to see it. She used to beg all the time as a small girl to go flying with him, and he would love to sneak out with her and zip around. Then, somehow, his father had found out and been quite angry. It was the only time Darcy could remember his father losing his temper, and it had quickly put an end to their secret rides, even though Georgiana used to beg for them even years later.
He angled himself down, aiming for his favorite spot to land. He was not fully paying attention because he was so caught up in the joy of the flying. In fact, he wanted to land a bit aggressively, so he tucked his head in and tried to gain as much momentum as possible, barreling towards the ground. Darcy could not stop laughing at his own carefree freedom. He never let himself have this openness, and he was feeling heady with it.
It seemed like just one second before he made impact with the ground, a person appeared in peripheral vision, clearly moving into the direction he was heading. He tried to call out a warning, but he was sure it got swallowed up by the wind he himself was creating.
Sure enough, when he landed on the ground of his home, he hit the person who had probably come to look at the house. This is going to be uncomfortable. Darcy did not want to knock the person over, so he quickly and carefully angled his wings to make sure they took the burnt of the fall. He also tightened his arms around the person, holding them in his strong arms to make sure they did not get hurt. If my careless flying hurts someone, it really will be clear that I am what Mother always feared. I should not be so selfish.
They seemed to tumble about for a while, but it was only a few seconds, and then they came to a stop. Darcy was still clutching the person in his arms and tried to quickly move to set them upright and check them over for any damage. However, just as he was setting them to rights, he noticed who he had in his arms. Who he had run into. Who he had made fall. Miss Elizabeth Bennet.