There Can Be No Doubt

This is another short story that I originally posted on a closed forum. I’d like to share it here for my other readers who might enjoy it.

I wrote it for a challenge to write a “soul mark” story. For anyone who doesn’t know what soul marks are, they are based around the idea of soul mates. They came from fanfiction (I don’t know which fandom the idea came from first, but it has been making its way across numerous fandoms). Soul marks are some kind of marking on a couple, usually on the hands or wrists but not always, that indicates who their soulmate is. Sometimes the soulmark is the name of the other soul mate, sometimes it is a phrase or something else.

As for how I’ve interpreted the soul mark concept, it should become apparent as you go along.

It was the twinge in Darcy’s shoulder on only his tenth lift that first drew his concern. At first he thought perhaps he had failed to stretch enough before starting on weights. He hadn’t wanted to think otherwise. Working out hard and regularly was supposed to help keep the soul weakening away as long as possible.

But that had been three months ago, and since then, he’d felt an occasional ache in his knees, and he’d lost a bout in fencing with his cousin Milton. He never lost to Milton. Ever. Fitzwilliam might never let him live it down.

He hadn’t been willing to confess then that the soul weakening had started. But then last month, he’d caught a cold. A simple cold, and yet it had taken him a month to shake it.

That was when they’d all known. Nobody had said anything to him, but he caught his mother looking at him and then turn away quickly, blinking. His father looking at him and sighing. The furrow in his sister’s brow. Even Fitzwilliam, his cousin and dearest friend, mocked him less than usual; he did not typically lose the opportunity to make a joke about Darcy’s less-than-manly soul mark. His whole family demonstrated a renewed determination to find her. He also knew his father had made an appointment with his solicitor, probably updating his will. Just in case, of course. Just in case.

His family had spent the last two Seasons in London, looking actively for her. They knew the date of her birth from when his soul mark appeared, of course, so they knew she’d turned eighteen two years ago; the time for her come-out. His father had found just the right location to observe each of the young ladies as she was presented to the queen. His mother had visited every elderly matron in town, asking about soul marks of young debutantes. Milton had even spent more than one evening at Almack’s, a sacrifice that he reminded Darcy of at least once a week, even though he’d been safely married at the time and in no real danger from the matchmaking mamas.

He had spent agonizing hours at balls and soirees of all sorts, attempting to smile, although self-conscious about doing so ever since Fitzwilliam had given him an assessment of what his false smile actually resembled; he’d been quite insulted at the suggestion of adding more fiber to his diet. He’d danced, oh, he’d danced. Bingley had been thrilled. Oh, Bingley, of the unmarked hand and freedom to marry whom and when he wished. He’d never been quite so envious of Bingley in his life.

Two years, and still she did not appear. At the end of this past Season, his mother had suggested gently that his future wife was most likely not of the Ton.

“Her parents might have chosen to delay her come-out for a year. Or we could have missed her presentation if it happened a year or two early. But we know she was twenty at the start of this Season. Even if we missed her presentation, we would have seen her at some point. I have every matron in the Ton looking for a soul mark of a Sweet William flower, and her parents would certainly do the same. No, I feel safe to say that she is not in London among the Ton. We must look elsewhere.”

He knew they were right, and that his mother could not bear to lose another son, and so he reluctantly participated in the family plan that felt all-too-much like a war council. His parents would visit Bristol and Bath. His aunt and uncle were to go north to Derbyshire and the neighboring counties, attending events and house parties. Fitzwilliam and Margaret would do the same in Kent. Milton and Sophia would stay in London watching for new girls, visitors, or gentry who were not known amongst the Ton and could have been missed. Lady Catherine and Anne were not in a position to travel, but they would invite house guests and write letters to acquaintances far and wide. Emily was heavily expectant and could not travel, but could join in with the letter-writing. Victoria and Talbot had gone north like her parents, but were staying in Scarborough. And Darcy would accept every invitation to a house party he could. He felt exhausted just thinking about all the traveling and visiting, from Brighton to Essex to Hertfordshire to Nottinghamshire. Somebody, somewhere had to know a young woman of age twenty with a soul mark showing a single Sweet William flower.

It had been easy for Milton. Sophia was only the daughter of minor gentry, it was true, but she had her come-out in London at the age of seventeen and had been immediately spotted by Lady Matlock. Her soul mark matched the tangle of rope that had appeared on Milton’s hand at age six. The meaning of soul marks was always clear to their bearers, but not always to others. Darcy theorized, though, that the rope symbolized slavery, as Milton had convinced his father to take up the issue in the House of Lords and he and Sophia were dedicated to the cause of emancipation.

Fitzwilliam had had a more challenging time finding Margaret. She was the daughter of a Viscount, but despite her soul mark, her father had not taken her to Town. There had been much tragedy in her family and her father could not manage the cost nor bear the gaiety of London. She had been four-and-twenty when Fitzwilliam had finally met her at Lady Catherine’s house party. The galloping horse on their soul marks made their shared love of horses clear.

At least Margaret and Fitzwilliam were only four years apart. Darcy was not sure he would survive if he did not meet his own soul mate before she reached four-and-twenty. The soul weakening might be unpredictable, but once it began, there was usually not more than a year or two left.

But if Darcy did not survive long enough to find his soul mate, would Georgie? Her soul mark had appeared at birth, so her soul mate was, as was usual for the man, older than her. But they did not even have the clue in her case of knowing how much older and the birth date. It had not so far proved helpful for Darcy, as his parents had explored the birth announcements for that date to no avail, but knowing the age of one’s soul mate did at least help guide one to the right places to look.

The third house party was in Hertfordshire, to the leased estate of his friend Bingley, and he was already sick of it. Sick of traveling, sick of meeting new people, of smiling and speaking politely and being fawned over, when he was growing anxious about his future, and if he even had one. Where was she? Surely she had just as much to lose in not finding him, why did she not travel to London and be presented to the queen, or, barring that, at least attend Almack’s and other venues for debutantes?

He tried not to be resentful that her family did not seem to make the effort to bring her somewhere where she could be more easily found. Not all genteel families could easily afford to tarry in London, and he had no idea of her living situation. But he was consumed with worry about Pemberley, about how his parents would feel losing another son, about how Georgie would feel. About how terrified she would be of her own soul mark if his was what killed him.

Bingley was lucky. He was a tradesman by birth, and thus ineligible for a soul mark. He was ready to buy himself into the gentry by purchase of an estate, so he’d have all the glory of having an estate without the risk. Perhaps a few generations in, as was usual, soul marks would start to appear in his landed descendants. But he wouldn’t have to worry for himself or his children or even his sisters.

Even when his family had been landed long enough, they might be lucky enough not to have many soul pairing. Some families had no more than a single soul pairing every few generations.

The Darcys and Fitzwilliams were not so lucky. Perhaps because they were such very old families, for some theorized that the length of time a family had been landed meant more soul marks, but for whatever reason it was, soul marks ran in both families very heavily. Darcy’s parents had been a soul pairing, and he and his sister both had soul marks. His younger brother John had not, but John had died of influenza some eight years ago. He had been his parents’ insurance, their spare, and now only soul marked children were left.

The Fitzwilliams were also a soul pairing, but only the two boys, Milton and Fitzwilliam, had marks. Emily and Victoria were happily married without marks.

Visiting Bingley had probably been a mistake. Bingley was a great friend, no doubt, and normally he would have been happy to spend time at his new estate. But with time so short, a wasted house party was a risk to his future.

And it might be a risk to his sanity as well. He’d been shocked when he saw Caroline Bingley, Bingley’s younger sister, sporting a soul mark on her hand. A Sweet William flower—a fairly good copy of his.

Bingley had been disgusted. They both had. The shouting match that ensued had been horrendous. It was not unusual for non-gentry to know little about soul marks and how they worked. Apparently, Caroline had known that they only appeared in the gentry, and somehow she thought that she and her siblings were close enough to gentry for a soul mark to be possible.

Darcy, of course, knew better. Even land ownership was not enough. Nobody knew exactly why, but soul marks only appeared in families that owned sufficient land to be considered gentry, and even then, only to families who had owned land for several generations.

Furthermore, Caroline had not even known that soul marks appeared at the birth of the younger soul mate. She was four years younger than Darcy, and both her siblings knew perfectly well she had not been soul marked from birth.

The ink she’d used took days to wear off, and after the row with her brother, he forced her to wear gloves to hide her shameful attempt until it wore off. The smirks from the servants were seemingly too difficult to bear on top of the glares from Darcy and her brother.

At least gentlemen and their families already knew about soul marks and their importance and did not feel the need to make counterfeit ones. They might be dissipated in other ways, but he’d never heard of gentry faking soul marks.

He had initially had high hopes for the area around Bingley’s estate. Bingley had been extolling the virtues of the neighborhood and the many lovely and virtuous ladies who lived in it. He had not mentioned whether any bore soul marks, but nonetheless Darcy had had a good feeling about Hertfordshire. Surely many of the neighbors Bingley had mentioned were genteel enough to carry marks, and perhaps he would finally find his soul mate there.

He was disappointed when he arrived. The neighboring estates, if one could call them that, were rather small. Netherfield was lovely, if not particularly large, but it was by far the largest estate in the area. Even the second largest, Longbourn, looked unlikely to bring in more than two thousand a year. He would not be surprised if many of the families had risen from trade or inherited entailed estates. There seemed a great deal of change in the neighborhood, like the local knight who had been a former shopkeeper, and of course Bingley’s estate was leased.

The Meryton Assembly, held in a small, hot, and crowded assembly hall, was enough to convince Darcy that he had made a poor choice after all. He glanced at everyone’s hand on introduction. Not a single soul mark in sight, most likely because none of the local families had been landed long enough to develop soul pairings.

Mrs. Bennet, to whom he had just been introduced, actually giggled as she curtseyed. Giggled! As if she were a girl on her first public outing!

“My daughters Jane and Mary,” she said, indicating the two girls who stood next to her, one lovely and one… not. “Lizzy, Kitty, and Lydia you see there dancing.” She swept her arm towards the dance floor and smiled brightly at him. He saw two of them immediately, laughing and squealing as they danced. The two were making fools of themselves and all attention was on them. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw their unmarked hands.

Darcy bowed again to Mr. and Mrs. Bennet and then let Bingley do the talking. He’d glanced at the hands of the parents and other two daughters, but no soul markings. It didn’t surprise him, though, given the strong trend for soul marks to be hereditary, as clearly their family did not carry them. There was a good chance the Bennets had not held the land long enough for soul pairings to begin. He had heard that Mrs. Bennet was merely the daughter of a solicitor. And this was the largest land-holding family in the area aside from Bingley? Perhaps he should consider moving on sooner than planned. His chest ached with the disappointment.

As soon as he had been introduced to all of the major families and looked to their hands, he escaped to the wall as was his wont during balls. Bingley, unfortunately, could not let well enough alone.

“Come, I must have you dance!” he blathered on, until Darcy was ready to snap. When Bingley pointed out a certain Miss Elizabeth of the unmarked Bennet family, it was the last straw.

“She’s tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me into dancing with an Unmarked. Whatever would be the point?”

It was at Lucas Lodge that he first saw her, really saw her. She had been cajoled by her sister into playing and singing something or other, quite possibly just to keep her less-talented sister Mary away from the pianoforte. Her playing was lively and unaffected, and he felt himself smiling at her cheerful good humor as she played. When she played a rather obviously wrong note, she made a comical face of contrition and then grinned at her audience. Darcy was charmed.

It was wrong, wrong, he knew. He was Marked, she was Unmarked. It was not just the Decree that prevented the match, but all honor and decency, for he must marry his soul mate or die within the next few years, if his estimation of the soul weakening was correct.

She stood up finally and gathered her music, responding gaily to a few friends as she made way for another performer—not Mary, fortunately. She was headed in his direction, and he had a panicked moment of trying to figure out whether he should evade her or try to talk to her. He wanted to talk to her, he shouldn’t talk to her–

His mind was a muddle, but not quite enough to keep him from noticing the direction of her stride and moving out of the way. Unfortunately, she had the same idea, and moved to the side the same time he did to avoid a collision. A collision that, since they’d both moved the same way to avoid each other, was inevitable after all.

“Oof!” he exclaimed as she hit his chest hard.

“Oh, I am so sorry!” she said, hastening to pick up her dropped music and step back.

He said not a word. He could not. For the back of her hand faced him as she held the music to her chest. And there, right there, on the back of her palm was a soul mark—a Sweet William flower.

For a moment, a very long moment, he was disgusted. She, too, had counterfeited a soul mark. He had admired her, she had seen it, and she had decided to take matters into her own hand to gain his wealth by a short marriage until he died of soul weakening, just like Caroline Bingley. He hated to think it of her. But she certainly had not had a soul mark the first time they met, and the rest of her family had no marks.

He was on the verge of confronting her, shoving her away, proclaiming the counterfeit to all, when two things happened.

The first was that he felt—strange. He could not describe it, even to himself, but touching her had made him feel odd.

The second was the confusion in her eyes when she looked up at him. Her expressions were always so open, so artless. And she did not understand why he stood there, mouth agape, staring at her. Or perhaps, he realized, she also felt odd without knowing why.

And now that he realized it, he had not truly met her, had never seen her hand, at the assembly. She had been one of the ones dancing, but not the loud two whose hands he had checked. And soul marks did appear in otherwise unmarked gentry families from time to time.

When her puzzled eyes met his, he held out his own hand. She stared, colored, and was silent.

Their eyes met.

“So you are–” she began stiltingly.

“Yes, it appears so.”

Neither was quite sure what to say. He wished he had thought to ask his cousins what they did when they met their soul mate. He knew the next step in the process, of course, but it seemed a bit forward to kiss her without ever having been so much as formally introduced.

“I suppose it would sound rather trite for me to say that I have been searching for you all of my life?” he attempted with a slight grin.

“How disappointing, then, for you to find me merely tolerable?” She gave him an arch look, but he recognized trepidation in her face. And then he realized.

He closed his eyes. “I am sorry, truly. I did not wish to dance… but you know you are my soul mate.”

She raised one eyebrow. “And thus you will have to find me handsome enough to tempt you?”

“Something like that,” he said with a shrug. “Truly, I did not mean it. I was trying my hardest to ignore the Unmarked while searching for my soul mate.”

She sighed. “I suppose I can understand that. You are beginning to feel the soul weakening?”

“I am.”

“Then we must marry quickly.”

“Or at least kiss,” he said. He wouldn’t mind kissing her. Not at all. Now that he was allowed to find her intriguing, more than allowed, he knew that he found her very appealing indeed. And the kiss—the kiss would tell them for sure. It was the first step in the bonding process.

He was not about to kiss her in the middle of the room at Lucas Lodge, even if nobody else had noticed their conversation yet. Somebody was sure to notice a kiss. And while he was fairly certain that she truly was his soul mate, just enough doubt remained that he did not wish to risk finding out that he was wrong in public.

Darcy indicated the door, and Elizabeth followed. Without knowing where was leading her, he simply knew he needed to be alone with her.

The foyer was empty. The party was midway, so most people had arrived and nobody was leaving yet. The servants were elsewhere, making themselves useful. They were alone, at least for the moment. It had to be enough.

He took her face in his hands, and kissed her lightly on the lips. The moment they touched, both felt a light tingling between them. Wide eyes met. He felt something, a heat rushing through his body, and then it was gone.

Elizabeth took a deep breath. “That was it, was it not? We truly are bonded?”

He nodded.

“And the soul weakening will halt?”

Again he nodded.

“Thanks be to God,” she whispered. He felt a sudden warmth, that she would thank God for him. He began to realize what it meant to have somebody so dear.

“My family will thank Him as well,” he said. “All of them, my mother especially, have been quite desperate.” He took her hand and squeezed it.

They stood there together for a few minutes before Elizabeth said, “I suppose we should return before tongues start wagging. What—what happens next?”

“I suppose I speak to your father,” he said. “He must know of your soul mark?”

“He does.”

“Then it shall be a short conversation.”

She laughed lightly. “Perhaps. Perhaps not.”

It was, in the end, a short conversation, though longer than he had expected, and possibly hoped for. Her father was resigned to him as his daughter’s soul mate, although he seemed skeptical of the pairing.

Darcy found himself wondering about the nature of their shared soul mark. He knew that soul pairings were often between people from very different backgrounds, even if they had to at least be gentry. But there had to be something that made them bond, something that connected them. It was not as if a soul pairing was random and the couple were under a magic spell to fall in love, after all. He knew quite a few soul pairings, and they always had a great deal in common. Personalities were often opposite, but there was commonality somewhere. And that commonality was usually reflected in the soul mark.

It did not take long for Darcy and Elizabeth, during the walks they were allowed unchaperoned but in sight of the house, to discover why they were matched. They were both intelligent and educated and enjoyed talking about ideas. Bingley and Fitzwilliam were his dearest friends, and both had excellent educations and had excelled in school. Nonetheless, neither had any interest in education for its own sake, no desire to read philosophy books or engage in real debate. He would never have expected his soul mate to be the person who finally challenged him in this way, and yet she was. They averaged two heated discussions per walk. He was certain they had been the best days of his life.

They both seemed to have a similar sense of humor as well. His was, perhaps, a bit drier, and hers livelier, but they enjoyed the same kinds of repartee and had the same sense of irony.

And, of course, he was very attracted to her. Her sparkling eyes, her soft curls, her bright smile, her lithe figure. She was absolutely lovely, now that he had truly looked at her.

By the third day, he was in love. And by the fourth, he thought perhaps she was as well.

It was on one of their walks that he first brought up the subject of the Sweet William. He confessed to her the amount of ribbing he had received in school and from his cousins for having a flower for a soul mark. Richard’s horse and Milton’s rope had not been particularly noteworthy, but he’d taken a few beatings for having a flower on his hand. He wondered if Elizabeth knew its significance.

“It might be for your name,” Elizabeth suggested.

“That seems rather trite,” he said.

She shrugged. “I agree, but… wait, perhaps it is for the outdoors. I do love walking, and I have always been fond of flowers. I love to watch the seasons change as I walk throughout the year, and the flowering of spring is a favorite delight.”

“Do you have any particular fondness for the Sweet William?”

She shook her head. “It is lovely, but it holds no special meaning to me, except for, I suppose, the name itself.”

He thought for a moment, then laughed. “It is word play. And have not we both determined that we share a love for word play?”

They both smiled at each other. “What an odd connection. But I think you must be right.” She took his hand and swung it joyfully as they walked along. He breathed in deep, enjoying the cold bite of the autumn air and the realization that next time the flowers were in bloom, they would enjoy them together.

He had written immediately to his parents, his aunt and uncle, and his cousins, inviting them all to Hertfordshire. The banns, of course, were not required for a soul pairing, so they could marry as soon as his family arrived and the vicar was available. He received letters back saying that they were all to meet in London and travel together. So on the fifth day, his entire family descended upon Netherfield.

Darcy found himself surprisingly proud and excited to introduce his family to Elizabeth. Despite all that she said, he wondered if she worried about making a good impression. He had worried about doing so with her family, especially after his behavior the first time they met. But in her case, there was the added difference in their stations.

“My courage always rises at every attempt to intimidate me,” she had said smilingly when they had discussed his family’s arrival.

“So you will not be nervous about meeting an earl?” he asked, eyebrows raised.

“Of course not. I already know the nephew of an earl quite well, and that is almost the very same thing.”

He grinned at her. “Ah, but how well do you truly know this earl’s nephew? Do you know his favorite color?”

“Green?”

He shook his head. “Certainly not.”

“Blue?”

“Not even close. I begin to wonder that we are even soul mates after all, if you cannot name my favorite color.”

“I did not think men had favorite colors. It seems like something a girl would have. Are you certain you are not thinking of your sister?”

“I think I can be trusted to know my own mind. I do have a favorite color, but sadly, even my soul mate does not know it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Red, then.”

“Red! No. I can see that you will not arrive at the right color until you have completed the rainbow, so I will tell you. Brown.”

“Brown? Your favorite color is brown?”

He smiled. “What is wrong with brown?”

“It is so unattractive. Brown is mud and old wood.”

“And chocolate. And the color of your hair, and your sparkling eyes.”

She smiled at him. “Flatterer. Your family will think you have become a flirt.”

He touched her hair softly, reverently. “They will simply know I have met my soul mate.”

He led his family into Longbourn, anxious for the introductions, but froze when he heard her mother’s shrill voice berating her in the parlor they were about to enter.

“Foolish girl, a walk this morning of all mornings! What will they think of you? Headstrong, willful girl. You are lucky you have a soul mark, you know, because the only man who would wish to marry you is one who would die if he did not!”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before he entered, not looking back at his mother, the closest to him, to see if she heard.

Elizabeth was seated near her mother and was looking down, her cheeks very pink. When he entered, she looked up, and her color became even brighter as he approached. But he took a moment, first, to greet Mrs. Bennet and speak to her softly.

“You are entirely wrong, madam,” he said. “Had your second daughter not been marked as my soul mate, I would have recognized her many perfections and fallen in love with her nevertheless. Some men might prefer a docile and quiet wife, but for myself, I prefer a vivacious and witty one.”

He smiled at Elizabeth’s open-mouthed wonder and kissed her hand without looking back at her mother. Mrs. Bennet was unusually quiet for the rest of the day, which he could not bring himself to regret.

His parents, of course, were thrilled to meet her. They had feared for his life even more than he had realized. His father told him privately that his mother had collapsed upon receiving the word that he had found her. She had been terribly frightened that she would lose a second son, this one to the soul weakening. She could have been the most atrociously-mannered girl on the earth and they would have glad for her. But very quickly, they came to love her for herself. Her complementary personality to their son’s endeared her to them. She was his perfect balance.

Georgiana approached her shyly, but was also desperately relieved that her brother had found his soul mate, both for himself and for herself. She was ready to love her new sister.

The rest of his family might not have had fears quite so intense, but they all loved Darcy and were relieved to meet her, and pleased for him. Her family’s behavior raised a few eyebrows, but she herself could not.

Darcy fidgeted for the entire meeting, though. He had heard what her mother had said about her, and he knew what he himself had said about her before they formally met. They had to talk.

His opportunity came well into the visit, when everybody was occupied in conversation. Soul mates were encouraged to spend time together to bond, as the bonding developed the more they were together. So nobody batted an eye when they went out into the garden.

“I find myself wondering,” Darcy said, “what our meeting would have been like if we had not carried the soul mark.”

“You would still have insulted me, perhaps,” she said with a cheeky grin. “And I would have let the wound fester and hated you.”

“While I would have come to regret my words and come to love you,” he said seriously.

She looked at him in surprise.

“Dearest Elizabeth, you must know that I have come to love you, most ardently. You have so quickly become my closest friend, my dearest companion, in a way I never thought possible.”

She blushed and looked down. “I feel the same,” she said. “I did not mean to tease you about the insult. But you take my teasing so well.”

“I adore your teasing,” he confessed. “It delights me that somebody does not take me seriously. So much of my life is so very serious.”

She linked her arm in his. “Then we really are perfect for each other. I will tease you, and you will remind me when I must be serious.”

“I love you, Elizabeth Bennet. Not because I must marry you or die, not even because we have been matched. I do not think the soul mark creates love where there is none, I believe it reveals a potential for a deep and abiding love between two people who are truly complementary.” He added ruefully, “That was not the romantic speech I had planned.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were bright as they met his. She blinked quickly, then touched a hand gently to his lapel. He closed his eyes at the intimacy. When he opened them again, she was smiling. “It was romantic to me. I love you, too, Fitzwilliam Darcy. I know you, and I love you. I cannot wait to start our life together.”

He kissed her again. This time he was prepared for the connection. He reveled in it. It felt like his emotions for Pemberley, for his parents and Georgiana, for his aunts and uncle, his cousins, and his friends, all wrapped up as one.

Love. It was love.