These Dreams: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Nicole Clarkston

  “You are not acquainted with Mr Bingley,” he covered smoothly. “Trade son or no, I believe you would find him most respectable, Mother. He was monstrous fond of Darcy, and the sentiment was returned in full.”

  The countess arched a dry brow. “A friendship formed in school days must, in the end, yield to respectability. I only thank heaven that this Bingley fellow did not employ his intimacy with Darcy so far as to form designs upon Georgiana!”

  Richard caught the fearful glance darted his way by his young cousin. “I think we need have no fear of that, Mother,” he smiled indulgently toward his charge. “Georgiana is far too wise to encourage such an interest from anyone unsuitable.”

  “I should hope!” the countess sighed, albeit not without an affectionate glance of her own toward her niece. “Georgiana, dear, you look rather pale after that horrid Bingley woman’s visit. If you wish, you may retire while I receive other callers. Richard will see you to your apartment.”

  Georgiana curtseyed in relief. “I thank you, Aunt.” She gave her arm to her elder cousin, but once in the outer corridor, he drew her aside and spoke softly.

  “Georgie, you do look frightfully unsettled. I hope Miss Bingley has not put you in mind of more sorrowful days.”

  She inhaled slowly, her pale lashes fluttering as a softness wavered upon her lips. “Her party were all staying at Pemberley when Fitzwilliam went away for that first business of his. He never told me what it was, but he returned for only a fortnight before going once again to London to see to its conclusion. The whole party came away then, though Fitzwilliam traveled on ahead of the rest of us. I think he must have arrived full two days before we.”

  “So, the last time you saw your brother was in Miss Bingley’s company,” he summarised. “Dear Georgie, I am sorry that she came today to distress you further.”

  She turned to him, a ray of sunshine at last glowing from her countenance. “It grieves me to think of those last days, but also brings me some peace.”

  “The world has a way of marching on, does it not? I suppose Miss Bingley remains a tangible reminder of him for you.”

  “Oh, heavens, no!” Georgiana shuddered. “I cannot think of Fitzwilliam and Miss Bingley in the same moment without dread, for she longed for him to make her an offer, you know. He never would, but she made everyone else miserable in her jealousy and disappointment. As a matter of fact—” here, she smiled, even seemed to giggle silently— “it was Miss Bingley’s mention of Miss Elizabeth Bennet which brought me some degree of pleasure. How envious she was of Fitzwilliam’s notice whenever Miss Bennet was about!”

  “Is that so?” He mused intently for a moment. “Georgie, did you really like her so well as you claimed?”

  “Oh, Richard, I adored her! I even cherished a hope that one day she might become my sister. Perhaps it was silly of me, but you know how cautious Fitzwilliam was. He never praised any woman in my hearing as he did her. He wrote to me of her from Hertfordshire over a year ago, and seemed so eager to introduce her to me when they were at Lambton. And how kind she was! I felt so at ease speaking with her, and she did set Miss Bingley down so neatly. There was no slight at which Miss Elizabeth could not laugh! I shall never forget how she defended me from an insult which had been meant for herself, but which struck me instead. I feel certain that Fitzwilliam was fond of her, for you ought to have seen the way he smiled at her after that!”

  All during this soliloquy—the longest speech Georgiana had uttered in weeks—a crafty smile had grown on Richard’s face. “It was Miss Elizabeth who so deftly thwarted our aunt. Do you remember that I told you about that? It was last April, when Darcy and I were in Kent. She had come to stay with her friend Mrs Collins, wife to Lady Catherine’s rector. Well may you imagine that she found herself the subject of our aunt’s condescension. The very picture of class and grace was she as she serenely defied Lady Catherine’s wishes!”

  Georgiana did giggle aloud now, daintily shielding her growing smile behind white fingertips. “I wish I could have seen it. Even enduring with my aunt’s demands would have been a small price to pay.”

  He nodded slowly. “She made our annual pilgrimage far more bearable, I will vouch for that. I never knew your brother to delay our departure as he did—thrice! —and I agree with you that there was some regard there, on his part at least.”

  A wistful sigh escaped the girl and she repeated, “I wish I had come to know her better.”

  His eyes narrowed. “Georgie, I had meant to speak to you of this later, but I may as well do so now. My business may call me away for an extended time, and I shall have to leave you to the care of others.”

  She drew a brave gasp. “Oh, Richard! Are you certain?”

  “I am afraid so, Sweetling, but I have been sadly remiss in offering Mr and Mrs Bingley my congratulation on their marriage. I feel I ought to render my felicitations in person before I depart, and I’ve no doubt that Bingley will be only too pleased to receive me without ceremony. What would you say to an impromptu visit to Hertfordshire on the morrow?”

  ~

  Longbourn

  Elizabeth’s eyes were fastened, uncharacteristically, on the ground. It was not as if there might be some new vista she had never appreciated, nor some surprise alteration to her way. These paths had been her private retreat since childhood—a bower of dreams and adventures, a silken vale of girlhood fantasy known only to herself and Jane.

  Jane’s future now lay elsewhere, and with her father’s edict, a shroud of finality had fallen for Elizabeth as well. This day, as her feet crunched heavily over the frozen ground, might well bear witness to the last of her carefree wanderings. She was to depart for London on the morrow, and with any luck, according to her mother, she would find a husband there and this would be her home no longer.

  Yes, her mind cried out, carry me away! Away from Hertfordshire and all these memories! No longer must I feign happiness for Jane’s sake, nor affect strength for Lydia’s benefit. I cannot bear seeing William at each turn, hearing his voice on the wind, feeling his touch in my dreams, and seeing him draw ever farther away!

  Ardently as her conscious thoughts might have embraced the notion, her heart dragged at her feet. Well did she recognise in herself the symptoms of disappointed love, for they were the same as Jane had so bravely attempted to conceal only a year ago. Yet, had not she even greater cause to mourn than Jane? She had been assured of love, had come to know with a certainty beyond any doubt that the man she adored remained constantly devoted. While Jane had nurtured the all but extinct hope for a reunion with the love of her heart, Elizabeth could never dream of more than brief, piercing encounters with those who had known him.

  It was not the lack of interesting viewpoints along her path which had kept Elizabeth’s gaze still on the ground as she walked, nor was it the treacherous footing—pitted ruts and hoofprints, half frozen even in the afternoon hours. No, it was the steady trickle of salted tears dripping from her cheeks. If she walked with bowed head, they did not run in errant paths down her chin to dampen her collar and cause others to wonder at her emotional display.

  One day, she attempted to reason with herself, she must concede the victory to Fate. The mysteries of the universe—God Himself, for all she knew—had seen fit to strike down a good man in the prime of his strength. If even Fitzwilliam Darcy, a man blessed in nearly every way, could not control his own fortunes, how much more could she exert her own will to arrange the future as she liked? She was quite powerless against the whims and forces at work, and one day, she must capitulate. She must marry another.

  Her fingers twined together in an agonised knot within her muff, clutching tightly to her middle. That those hands would one day be given in service and tender caresses to a stranger! For strange he must be, as there was nothing left of her own ragged heart to draw intimately near to another. Her hands convulsed until the muscles ached and the delicate bones crushed one another with the force of her revulsion.
She tried to breathe, but only a trembling shriek came from her indrawn breath as more tears spilled down her cheeks.

  Elizabeth’s steps faltered and she stopped, still hugging her tormented agony close as she shivered her grief. Breathing became nearly an impossibility as a second, then a third breath were forcibly shortened by the shooting spasms in her chest. Helpless now to regain control, she gave herself over to piteous moans and shudders—there, in the middle of a public road, Elizabeth surrendered to the depths of her despair.

  She had covered her face now, her hot tears seeping into her gloves and turning them ice cold over her cheeks. Oh, if Lydia could have seen, how her younger sister would tease her for the way her nose must run! Pinching off the rivulets of moisture from her eyes, she fought once more for calm.

  She was still standing thus when, a moment later, her name echoed to her. Elizabeth raised her head to see her aunt Gardiner hurrying toward her, rosy and breathless with her exertions in the cold.

  “Lizzy, how glad I am that I have found you! We feared you had gone on to Netherfield and we should have had to send for you.”

  Elizabeth crossed her arms and shivered as her aunt approached. “No, Aunt, I have not gone far, but what is the trouble? Is Lydia unwell?”

  “No, my dear, you have callers! They arrived a quarter of an hour ago, escorted by Jane and Mr Bingley. Such an enormous carriage naturally sent your mother into a state of agitation, and I tasked myself with searching you out ere you could wander farther.”

  “Callers? But who could be calling on me?”

  “It is Miss Georgiana Darcy, my dear, and her cousin the colonel.”

  Elizabeth had started toward her aunt, but froze in her tracks. “Miss Darcy is here? And Colonel Fitzwilliam?”

  “That is the very gentleman. He seems most amiable, Lizzy. He says he made your acquaintance in Kent. It appears they were traveling from London, and wished to call at Netherfield in honour of the Bingleys’ marriage. It was decided there that they should all repair here at once, for Miss Darcy was keen to see you again and it was presumed that a formal introduction was no longer necessary.”

  Elizabeth blinked, her mouth hanging open in astonishment. How could she face that dear girl, after owning the deep conviction that it was for her sake that Georgiana had lost her cherished brother?

  “Lizzy, I declare, you look to have seen a ghost! Come now, it will not do for you to make your complexion ruddy with the cold while your callers await.”

  “Oh, Aunt, they have not come to stay! Please God that they intend to travel on directly and are not lingering in the vicinity!”

  “Lizzy, what manner of talk is this? I thought you were rather taken with the young lady, and surely she looks for a friend in you.”

  “Aunt, do you not recall the circumstances of Mr Darcy’s death? Oh, you may not know it all, but how can Miss Darcy wish to see me after all that has happened?”

  “Perhaps you may let the young lady speak for herself, Lizzy, rather than leaping to false conclusions. For my part, I thought she appeared hopeful, and only seemed distressed when given the news that you had gone out.”

  Elizabeth pressed her lips together, forcing air into her lungs and locking her fingers within her muff. “I shall come, Aunt, and I do wish to assure myself that she is well, after all.”

  ~

  When Elizabeth entered the drawing room, the colonel’s red uniform immediately attracted her eye. He rose promptly and offered a deep bow of greeting, and it was then that Elizabeth found Miss Darcy’s gaze. The girl had been seated between Jane and her cousin, and she rose beside him to dip a charming curtsy in answer to Elizabeth’s.

  The sight of Georgiana Darcy’s well-remembered face, softening at her arrival, uncoiled some of Elizabeth’s reserve. It was a joy to see her again, no matter the excruciating memories her sweet countenance recalled. Colonel Fitzwilliam, she found, was no less welcome for all the discomfort occasioned by their last visit in Kent. Bittersweet pangs struck her heart at his easy, hopeful expression, and her resolve was formed in an instant. She would be herself, Elizabeth Bennet once more for Darcy’s family, laughing and bantering and lending honeyed courage to a girl who desperately needed it. She owed them—owed him—that much.

  “Miss Darcy, Colonel Fitzwilliam!” Elizabeth smiled warmly, taking Georgiana’s hands. “I bid you welcome to Hertfordshire. This is indeed a pleasant surprise!”

  “Miss Elizabeth, I beg your pardon for calling without warning,” the colonel beamed in satisfaction. “I had it on good authority that you would not mind the imposition.”

  “It is no imposition at all, Colonel. On the contrary, I am deeply honoured by your visit.”

  “Excellent! The pleasure is ours, Miss Bennet.”

  Elizabeth took in his warm smile before turning again to Georgiana. “I hope your travels have been comfortable, Miss Darcy. The roads from London can be trying at this time of the year.”

  Georgiana brightened bashfully. “We have come not three days ago from Derbyshire, Miss Elizabeth, so I may assure you with all confidence that the road between here and London is no hardship.”

  “You are a valiant traveler, then. I shouldn’t wonder, for what are twenty miles of road, good or bad, when friends await?” Elizabeth squeezed the girl’s hand impulsively before releasing her.

  Georgiana verily blossomed in pleasure as she returned Elizabeth’s cheer, and even Colonel Fitzwilliam seemed relieved. Jane took the opportunity to remove to a seat beside Kitty—who was busily ogling the colonel’s brilliant regimentals—leaving the place beside Georgiana for Elizabeth. Lydia had not come below, likely out of discretion for her changing figure, but Elizabeth could not help but catch her mother’s whispers that this must be a friend of Mr Wickham’s, come to bring Lydia word from her husband, and Lydia must be sent for! Elizabeth darted a desperate silencing glance to her aunt, who was only partially successful at restraining Mrs Bennet’s effusions.

  Elizabeth and Georgiana settled themselves on the sofa with the colonel while Mary performed the office of serving tea to their guests. Georgiana had fallen quiet once more, her round blue eyes flitting nervously about the room. Had Wickham’s name reached her ears so soon? Elizabeth glanced to the colonel, who betrayed no symptoms of tension. Only deferential concern for his young cousin seemed to line his face. Elizabeth drew a breath, wavering between forced cheer and gentle honesty. The latter won out.

  “Miss Darcy,” she murmured hesitantly, once the tea had been poured and she could lean confidentially close. “I was deeply grieved to hear of your loss. You must be weary of condolences by this time, but I humbly offer mine, nonetheless. Your brother was a good man.”

  Georgiana’s fingers tightened upon her teacup and she stared at it, swallowing hard, before she met Elizabeth’s eyes. “Thank you, Miss Elizabeth. You are correct that I have heard those words from many, but I think never with such sincerity.”

  Elizabeth lifted her gaze to meet Colonel Fitzwilliam’s steady look. He, too, had inclined his head near to catch Georgiana’s whispered reply, and the crinkling round his kindly eyes conveyed his gratitude for her care. Elizabeth drew a long breath. She had meant it all—every word and more—but she felt herself an impostor. Had not she once aspired to the world, longing for the right to one day call this very girl her sister, and in the end costing that same girl everything she had held dear?

  “I fear the sentiment can become a rather meaningless one,” Elizabeth answered softly. “Many express their regrets, but most know not how to speak comfort into the face of grief, if they do not also share in it.”

  Georgiana’s eyes widened and her lips parted in amazement, but she quickly lifted her cup to conceal her speechlessness. It was the colonel who made reply.

  “I am afraid, Miss Bennet, that my dear cousin has too long been shut away with only her dreary relations,” he gestured self-deprecatingly to his own person. “Certain matters have dominated all the c
onversations in our family circle, and fresh topics and faces have become all the more dear. You must imagine her delight when we heard that our friend Mr Bingley had wed your sister, and that Longbourn was a mere half-day’s journey from London. We are most grateful that you are not put out by our unexpected visit.”

  Elizabeth smiled. “I am pleased that you came, sir, and pray do not apologise further. It is no trouble, but a delight to receive such agreeable company.”

  Fitzwilliam chuckled his agreement, then his gaze went to Mr Bingley, standing near the hearth. “Well, Bingley, I think my cousin would prefer to renew her acquaintance with Miss Bennet without the benefit of a dour old bear looking over her shoulder. She has seen quite enough of me of late! Shall we leave the ladies to their refreshments? I am craving an introduction to Mr Bennet and Mr Gardiner, if I may presume so far.”

  “You will find them in the library, Colonel,” Mrs Bennet preened, fluttering her fan in that direction before shielding her face with it to exchange significant glances with Elizabeth. Elizabeth suppressed an audible groan. Had her mother already assumed that the colonel had come on her account, and was eagerly awaiting an opportunity to speak with her father? If so, her mother knew precious little of the man’s expectations beyond that he was the son of an earl! A second son.

  The gentlemen retired, and with them they took the tense calm which had permeated the drawing room full of females. The door had scarcely closed when cheerful uproar burst forth, with Kitty claiming the now vacant seat to Georgiana’s left and Mrs Bennet assailing them all with her admiration of Miss Darcy’s lace.

  Georgiana absorbed the Bennet merriment with shy reserve, casting hesitant glances now and again to Elizabeth and to Jane, in whose company she had found herself instantly at ease. At length, when Mrs Bennet had exhausted her admiration for Georgiana’s sense of fashion, Mrs Gardiner quietly noted to her sister that Mr Gardiner had just developed a new trade interest, and that he had recently obtained a deal of satin—not quite so dear, but nearly as lovely as that worn by Miss Darcy. This won Mrs Bennet’s praise, and soon that worthy lady was drawn in thoroughly by wise Mrs Gardiner’s sensible observations.