Chances Come, Ney Mitch [snow like ashes series TXT] 📗

“As strange as it is to admit, the answer might make you grave. And I do not want you grave. I like you when you are lighter. I like you when you are like this.”

“Very well. I shall promise to be lighter in nature if you promise to answer the question.”

“I can agree to that arrangement. In truth, I suppose that it first began when my father passed away.”

Despite his promise to remain light, Mr. Darcy could not help but let his expression falter and his general air become graver. I did not begrudge him for breaking his promise to me.

“How so?” he asked. “Did it help you to realize that you had nothing to lose by giving me another chance?”

“Precisely. Life was short and what was I to ever fear? The afterlife? What would the afterlife do to me for trying to yield the breach between us? Not a thing. And, I found, when considering that it might be wise to consider that second impressions are just as vital to judge someone on as first impressions, I grew wiser.”

I gave him a quick glance. “But what about you? For, it seems to me, that your opinion of me improved over time. Or else, you would have never decided to feel anything towards me that was less than disdain.”

“I wish I knew, but I do not.”

“Come now, Mr. Darcy, that was not a question that deserved such a mysterious answer.”

“I promise I would give you a better answer if I could. Yet, I cannot fix on the moment, hour or even day that my mind began to alter in the better sense. For, I do believe, that I was in the middle of finding you very agreeable, even before I knew if I had even begun. I can only assume that I was surprised by the liveliness of your mind.”

“That is strange, for I recall being nothing short of saucy incivility whenever we spoke. There always seemed to be a merry war between us. And as such, this gives me no choice but to wonder if maybe you liked me being uncivil.”

“I promise, it was for the liveliness of your mind.”

“And that liveliness came from an impulse to sometimes spar with you, mentally. Therefore, perhaps, and consider this before you deny it, that maybe you were exhausted by the common pleasantries and flatteries that often come your way. I have seen the way that Caroline Bingley flatters you. Am I correct in thinking that women treat you that way all the time?”

“Yes. It is a perpetual habit of theirs.”

“And I was the first one who did not. Therefore, you could not help but look on me differently, for I was a novelty. I gave you something else but the same sort of song, the same sort of dance, and the same sort of false flattery that comes with trying to catch a man for his fortune and his name.”

“Truly, that is the omnipresent terror that loams over one’s head. You know not the agonies of always being sought after because of your wealth.”

“I can only assume that is the same sort of terror that a person feels for being not worth marrying because of one’s lack of wealth. Therefore, perhaps, I do know the feeling. I can believe that both fates are both dark paths that have different hues to them, but the hues are merely different tints and shades of the same color. Yet, I am sorry if you are often viewed as a piece of meat that a woman wishes to own for the nourishment it gives her. If it shall help you feel less alone, we women feel the same way quite often.”

“You do?”

“Yes.”

“I never would have believed so.”

“Do you believe that we women are so different than you men?”

“In some ways, yes you are.”

“Well, in some ways, perhaps, and yes. After all, if we were just like you, then there would be no reason for you to need us. Yet, what I refer to is that we, both men and women, are looking at each other in ways that put us on display and appeal to our more selfish sides. We both are viewed as prizes sometimes, that the opposite sex desires to win. And therefore, we are all, in our own way, objects.”

“You paint a very poor landscape of life, if it be that.”

“It is only poor if you let it affect you. I refuse it to be such.”

“I like this.”

“You like what?”

“I am happy that we are as we are, now. I am not afraid when I speak with you now.”

His comment surprised me. “You were afraid of me before?”

“Perhaps I was. It was through no fault of yours. I was merely…”

“Awkward around people who you knew for so very little,” I finished his sentence.

“Precisely.”

“Yes, I do believe that I am beginning to gather a widened knowledge to your character. I am quite proud of us. We have done the difficult thing, you see. We have learned to be nice towards each other after we have argued and fought. This is a great thing. I do not want you to be afraid of me, Mr. Darcy. In truth, I do not wish for you to ever be frightened by me again.”

Mr. Darcy chuckled slightly.

“I make you laugh with that comment?” I asked.

“No, you must forgive me. It is just… I do believe that I am happy.”

I smiled at this.

“You are?”

“Yes, very much so.”

“I am as well.”

We both looked deeply into each other’s eyes and then I felt shy so very suddenly. I did not know what was occurring, but I felt something stir inside of me.

I did not know how to feel. And the worst thing occurred that left me feeling naked and exposed to embarrassment: I did not know what to say. Words were leaving me, utterly. I despised myself in that very moment, and for reasons that I knew not the foundation on, I desired to be