Mr. Darcy's Return: A Pride and Prejudice Variation, page 3
What she might have expected of Miss Darcy, Elizabeth could not quite determine, though she supposed if she had given the matter any thought, she might have expected a feminine version of Mr. Darcy. Marked though the resemblance was between them, she was not like her brother, for while she was reticent like he was, she was not nearly so confident, which Elizabeth deduced from the frequent glances she snuck at him. After some time of speaking to her, Elizabeth determined she was a dear creature, and whatever praise Miss Bingley had heaped on her was, in this instance anyway, well deserved.
It was perhaps fifteen minutes later that Elizabeth’s youngest sisters came near, their curiosity about the newcomer overwhelming whatever had caught their fancy that day—of late, that was usually the company of the officers, of whom a full company had turned out. When Miss Darcy noted their presence, she colored a little and fell silent, and her brother appeared pained at the notion of such an acquaintance. The girl, however, appeared to gather some courage, asking for an introduction, which Elizabeth obliged before Mr. Darcy could quash the notion.
“Miss Darcy,” said Lydia, almost sounding sensible, “how wonderful it is to make your acquaintance.” Kitty echoed her younger sister’s sentiment with the same quietude as the other girl possessed. “Some of us are insisting on a bit of dancing. Shall you not join us? We shall introduce you to all the officers!”
At this, the girl stared wildly at her brother, as if demanding that he save her from the ignominy. Mr. Darcy cleared his throat, bringing the scrutiny of Elizabeth’s youngest sisters.
“I am afraid Georgiana is not yet out, Miss Lydia.”
“Not yet out?” repeated Lydia as if she had never heard of such a thing.
“You must understand,” said Elizabeth, not wishing the amity of the previous minutes to be ruined through Lydia’s thoughtlessness, “that Miss Darcy is a member of high society, and in London, she will not come out until she is eighteen.
“You should also remember, Lydia,” said Elizabeth, giving her sister a pointed glare, “that Mama insisted my father allow you to attend events with Kitty, but you are not, in point of fact, out.”
Lydia glared at Elizabeth, but Kitty spoke to diffuse the situation. “That is no trouble, Miss Darcy, for you may stand up with one of us if you cannot stand up with the officers. We have several friends to whom we can introduce you.”
It was clear to Elizabeth that Miss Darcy did not quite know what to say, but she did not appear to dislike the notion. A glance at her brother produced a slight nod of approval, after which she allowed the younger girls to draw her away, Elizabeth promising to join them thereafter. Then they left, and Elizabeth was alone with Mr. Darcy.
For the next few minutes, neither said much, for Elizabeth was uncertain she wished to speak with him at all, and Mr. Darcy distracted himself by glancing about the room and sipping on a cup of punch he held in one hand. His frequent looks at his sister did not escape Elizabeth’s notice, though Georgiana appeared to be getting on well with the girls, and had stood up with Kitty, proving Mr. Darcy had at least seen to dancing as part of her education. After a time of this, Elizabeth wondered why Mr. Darcy had come at all, for he did not appear to appreciate the company, least of all her companionship. It was for precisely this notion of his wish to avoid speaking that Elizabeth, feeling the perversity of the situation, determined to provoke him and see what she could discover.
“Your reappearance was quite unexpected, Mr. Darcy. We had all thought your party had quit Netherfield with no intention of returning.”
Mr. Darcy’s eyes found her, considering. “I am certain I said nothing of my plans.”
“No, you did not,” agreed Elizabeth, “and Mr. Bingley told no one in the neighborhood of his intention to decamp to the best of my understanding.”
“Then how could you know of it?”
Elizabeth shrugged. “Miss Bingley sent my sister a letter.”
“Ah, then that explains it,” said Mr. Darcy.
For a long moment, he said nothing, such that Elizabeth thought their brief conversation was at an end. When all hope appeared lost, he ventured another comment.
“When we departed, I had no notion of returning to own the truth. The longer I was gone, however, the more I realized I had left unfinished business in Meryton.”
“Unfinished business?” asked Elizabeth, intrigued. “That is curious, sir, for I was not aware you had conducted any business in Meryton. I might have thought your friend, Mr. Bingley, had more claim to unresolved concerns.”
“No,” said he, “Bingley has no more business here. As for myself, I imagine if you consider it at all, you will understand what brought me back. My actions, both when you stayed at Netherfield with your sister and at the ball, must have given you some sign of it.”
Now Elizabeth was completely confused, but she decided it was not worth it to further pursue understanding. She rather thought it would be impossible, regardless, and had no wish to continue to bandy words with this man. Thus, she curtseyed and offered her regrets.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Darcy, for I promised your sister I would join her at the dancing.”
“Thank you for your attention to her,” said Mr. Darcy with a bow. “I hope to see you again later in the festivities.”
“I am certain you shall,” replied Elizabeth.
Then she went away, thinking that Mr. Darcy had become even more difficult to understand in the time he had been away. At the very least, he had proven her conjecture about his opinion of her. Charlotte could say what she wished, but Elizabeth had no notion of any admiration for her person on the gentleman’s side. That was just as well, of course, for Elizabeth would not wish to suffer a similar scene to the one that ensued after Mr. Collins had proposed to her, not that the notion of high and mighty Mr. Darcy proposing to the likes of Elizabeth Bennet was anything other than hilarious. Pushing any such thoughts away, Elizabeth joined her sisters and new friend and soon agreed to stand up with Miss Darcy for a set.
Had Elizabeth any way to look into Mr. Darcy’s mind and understand his thoughts, what she found would have astonished her. Not only did Darcy admire Miss Elizabeth Bennet, but she was the sole reason for his presence and decision to endure such a company as this. The few weeks he had spent away intending to forget her had taught him that his fascination with her was deeper than he had believed, his wish to be in her company again nigh overpowering.
While some might abuse him for his singular manner of wooing the young lady who had caught his imagination, the simple fact was that Darcy often found himself unable to speak coherently when in her company. Miss Elizabeth, he thought, understood this about him, for she was never hesitant to speak, such that he thought it obvious that she understood his interest in her and was waiting for him to declare himself. To Darcy, it was merely a matter of timing, for he meant to make his move at the first available opportunity.
The wincing reader might wonder at Darcy’s confidence, and in some respects, the writer must agree with their apprehension. At the core of Darcy’s character lay an unshakable understanding of his status in life and the benefits he could offer to a woman. While Darcy understood his position to be a fortunate one, however, no hint of any notion that a woman in Miss Elizabeth’s position would refuse his proposal had occurred to him, and he might have pushed it aside as ridiculous had it done so. He also had not considered how he might not enjoy being married to a woman who would accept him for the advantages he could offer, which was no less than peculiar considering his distaste for Caroline Bingley and unwillingness to allow even the suggestion of admiration for her.
Armed with this unfortunate blindness, Darcy watched Miss Elizabeth, putting himself in her company when the opportunity arose, enjoying her kindness to his sister while planning how he would ultimately present his suit, unaware of the clash he would provoke. It is said that ignorance is bliss, yet after the fact, Darcy would recognize that ignorance, especially when one does not even recognize their lack of understanding, was nothing less than the cruelest irony. But do not fear, dear reader, for even with this calamity, Darcy may yet prove himself worthy of the love of a woman such as Elizabeth Bennet.
“I am most put out, Lizzy!”
Fixed as she was on her contemplation of Miss Darcy, who appeared to become more comfortable as the night wore on, and Mr. Darcy, who appeared less, Elizabeth had not noted the approach of her youngest and loudest sister. The questioning eye she turned on Lydia was born of long association, inured as she was to Lydia’s excesses and sudden cries of vexation.
Lydia took this as an invitation to continue, which she did after unleashing a huff of exasperation. “I should not wonder at your lack of perception, Lizzy, considering how much attention you have paid to the Darcys tonight.”
Elizabeth’s look of patience turned into a demanding glare, but Lydia proved impervious. “Oh, Miss Darcy is a good sort of girl, though she is a little reticent for my taste. I cannot understand what you find so interesting about Mr. Darcy, considering you were not handsome enough for him.”
“Then why are you put out?”
“Because,” spat Lydia, “Mr. Wickham, the most handsome and interesting officer that any of us have ever seen, is gone!”
Understanding flooded Elizabeth at once, though she wondered why she had not noticed Mr. Wickham’s absence, especially as she had considered applying to him about Miss Darcy. The officers had attended the party en masse but now that Lydia pointed it out, Elizabeth realized she had not seen Mr. Wickham at all, had not even thought of him since her earlier reflection.
“Do you know something about his absence?” asked Elizabeth. “Was he obliged to go into town again?”
“If only it was something so benign as that,” pouted Lydia. “I do not know the whole of the story, but a few days ago, a colonel from the regulars came to Meryton and took Mr. Wickham away. The officers will not say much, but it appears the colonel took him into custody and transferred him to the regulars.”
Lydia snorted with contempt. “It seems someone arranged for Mr. Wickham to be taken away from all his friends. I doubt we shall see him again in Meryton.”
Then Elizabeth knew—there was only one in Meryton with a grudge against Mr. Wickham and possessed of the influence to change his circumstances. Mr. Darcy!
All the contempt she had ever felt for the man gathered in her heart, and Elizabeth glared across the room to where Mr. Darcy was standing and speaking with Uncle Gardiner, her offense on Mr. Wickham’s behalf not even allowing her to feel surprised he was conversing with a man engaged in the detested profession of trade. Mr. Darcy had all but declared his aversion to Mr. Wickham, to say nothing of Mr. Wickham’s testimony of Mr. Darcy’s interference in his life and actions to render Mr. Wickham destitute. It appeared he had done it again. Would the man’s hatred for his childhood friend forever lead him to ruin Mr. Wickham’s life?
Had circumstances allowed Elizabeth to continue to burn in fury for Mr. Darcy’s treatment of Mr. Wickham, she might have felt enough anger to make a scene she should not. Miss Darcy joined her at that moment, her face glowing with pleasure. Unwilling to make Miss Darcy aware of her contempt for Mr. Darcy, Elizabeth schooled her features to temperance.
“Miss Elizabeth,” said the girl, “I hope you are enjoying this evening.”
“Of course,” replied Elizabeth. “Sir William’s parties are always entertaining.”
“I have rarely attended such an event,” confided Miss Darcy. “Yet I am glad my brother permitted me tonight.”
“Oh?” asked Elizabeth, her temper getting the better of her. “Would he have confined you to Netherfield, never allow you to mingle with any of us?”
Miss Darcy took it as one of Elizabeth’s jests. “Not at all! It is only that I am so very reticent, and I am not out. Yet I have found much enjoyment this evening, and your sisters are so much fun!”
Again, the need to maintain her composure entered Elizabeth’s mind, and she returned to her previous state of contentment with some effort. “Then I am happy that you have found some ease among us, Miss Darcy.”
The girl gave her a shy smile. “I feel we are becoming friends. Shall we not dispense with such formality?”
Touched by the girl’s earnest entreaty, Elizabeth agreed with alacrity. Georgiana smiled and nodded.
“I am fortunate to be here tonight. My brother has introduced me to those I already esteem very much. He has been so good to me; I know I could not have a better brother than he.”
“Shall we go sit by the pianoforte?” asked Elizabeth, deciding it wise to avoid trading words about Mr. Darcy again. “I believe Charlotte is about to begin the carol singing.”
With a shy nod, Georgiana grasped Elizabeth’s hand and led her to the pianoforte where several others were already congregating, Mr. Darcy among them, Elizabeth noted. Mary had always prided herself on her ability to accompany others’ singing, and set to playing well-loved Christmas hymns without being asked.
Mindful though she was about Mr. Darcy’s proximity, her current less than charitable feelings for him, and her curious appreciation for his clear baritone voice, Elizabeth stood and sang the carols with new friends and old, welcoming the season through song.
Chapter III
P ensive, Georgiana sat at the vanity in her room at Netherfield Park, thinking of the previous evening at Lucas Lodge, the friends she had made, and the enjoyment she had gained from their company. Knowing her brother as she did, Georgiana had seen his growing dissatisfaction with their neighbors, even as Georgiana had grown more comfortable in the company of young ladies her age.
Georgiana had never had much companionship with other girls. Those in Pemberley’s neighborhood who were near her age were, as a rule, impressed with their positions and fortunes, or unbearably silly, such that Georgiana could not abide their company. Her aunt and cousins were excellent ladies, but they were all older than Georgiana, enough that she did not consider them genuine friends rather than beloved relations.
Hertfordshire was different. Oh, Kitty and Lydia Bennet were silly themselves, but in coming to know them, Georgiana had seen a different side of their characters that delighted in company in a way beyond her capability to emulate. When they began speaking of officers to the extent they often did, Georgiana wished they would not, knowing certain truths about officers the girls seemed to ignore. Still, as she had told Miss Elizabeth the previous evening, they were great fun; she had enjoyed herself very much in their company.
The rest of the Bennet sisters were different, and their characters were more difficult to understand. Miss Jane Bennet was perhaps even more reticent than Georgiana herself, and while she could not put her finger on it, Georgiana had thought Miss Bennet disinclined to her company. Miss Elizabeth was bright and effervescent, a true joy to know, and while Georgiana did not speak to Mary much, she found the other girl pleasing, especially when she spoke of music, a subject for which she had a mutual passion with Georgiana. The other ladies of the neighborhood were gracious, even if Georgiana had not spoken as much with them as with the Bennets.
It was Elizabeth Bennet who was on Georgiana’s mind that morning, for she sensed disaster on the horizon if she did not prevent it. The dilemma stemmed from her brother’s apparent interest in the fiery young lady, a fascination Miss Elizabeth did not seem to reciprocate.
William had not vouchsafed his reasons for bringing her to Hertfordshire, and just before Christmas when they usually would have spent the holidays with their family. It did not bother Georgiana, for her brother did not account for himself to his much younger sister unless it concerned her directly, such as when he had sent her to school. Furthermore, William was not in the custom of staying at a friend’s estate when his friend was not present, yet here they were, and Mr. Bingley was still, so far as Georgiana knew, in London with his sisters. Georgiana knew something had happened during their stay here, and was aware that William had returned to town, following Mr. Bingley when he had gone to London to attend to some business. The why of the matter was unknown to her, but Georgiana had some notion that it involved some action of Mr. Bingley’s, of which her brother and his sister did not approve.
As William’s behavior had been a little strange of late, Georgiana had watched him, trying to understand the reason for their presence in Hertfordshire. The previous evening, Georgiana had finally gotten a glimpse of the reason for his alteration. It had started when William had introduced her to Elizabeth—Miss Lucas had been present, but the introduction was entirely due to her position beside Elizabeth. Then, while Georgiana had enjoyed herself with her new friends, she had not been insensible to his frequent glances at Elizabeth, that he talked to her more than anyone else. Her brother admired Miss Elizabeth Bennet!
Though her acquaintance with the vibrant woman encompassed only a single evening in company, Georgiana knew instinctively that she would enjoy having Elizabeth Bennet as a sister, for she was everything for which Georgiana ever wished. In normal circumstances, Georgiana would be overjoyed, waiting impatiently until William proposed, for then she could call her sister and anticipate the influence she would have in Georgiana’s life. This, unfortunately, was where she sighted storm clouds on the horizon.
William appeared to be blind to Elizabeth’s reaction to him, but if Georgiana dared think such an incomprehensible thing was possible, she might almost suggest that Elizabeth did not care for her brother, perhaps to the extent of actively disliking him! Why Georgiana could not say, for Elizabeth had taken pains to hide her aversion. Yet Georgiana had noted her frequent exasperation with William, had seen her swallow a retort or make some comment he saw as sportive, but Georgiana had seen as biting. Then there was their brief conversation before the caroling when Elizabeth had commented on William forbidding her from associating with those of the neighborhood.
Unclear though she was about the reason for Elizabeth’s disapproval, Georgiana still did not doubt she had the right of it. Georgiana knew she was not the most confident specimen, and her recent near miss with a certain libertine of her acquaintance had done her no favors. It was difficult for her to fathom anyone viewing William as anything other than the best of men, but it appeared she had found one who did. Esteeming Elizabeth already as she did, and possessing a near veneration for William, Georgiana did not wish for either to be embarrassed, nor did she wish for uncomfortable scenes to ensue that would destroy her fledgling friendships with the Bennet ladies. Could she speak up, and warn William away from making such a disastrous mistake? Georgiana did not know if she had it within her to act in such a way to her dear elder brother, but she knew she alone was able to assist.
