by Meg Osborne
“I have not been entirely honest with you,” she began, turning a helpless glance on her aunt, before fixing it on Darcy. He risked his own glance at Mrs Gardiner, for a brief moment truly concerned over what was to come, but seeing nought but an amused smile flicker across the older lady’s face, felt a little of his anxiety recede.
“I am prepared,” he said, folding his arms across his front as if bracing for a blow.
“I did not come to London merely to visit my aunt and uncle. I came...to escape Mr Collins.”
“Oh?” Darcy felt the muscles in his arms tense. Escape? What had that dreadful man been about, making Elizabeth flee her home? If I must knock some sense into him, I suppose Aunt Catherine will not be impressed. His lips set grimly. But if she hears what her curate has subjected an innocent young lady to, then I do not imagine she will blame me for it either. His brows knit together. “What happened?”
“Oh, nothing so very dreadful!” Elizabeth said, laying a light hand on his arm. “Please, do not worry. It was only that he - that I –” She took a breath, and rushed out her explanation in one exhalation. “He proposed to me, after a fashion. I refused, and the whole affair was so awkward that I simply had to get away.” She blinked. “Mama, you know, was rather less than delighted...”
“Is that all?” Darcy actually permitted himself to laugh. “I thought the scoundrel had forced himself upon you, although I rather think my Elizabeth could easily have fought off such a weakling.”
Elizabeth coloured at his use of the term “my Elizabeth”.
“Anyway, I cannot imagine your mother will mind you refusing Mr Collins, when you return engaged to Mr Darcy!” Mrs Gardiner beamed at the young couple thoroughly delighted with how everything had turned out.
“No...” Elizabeth mused. “And I suppose even Mr Collins cannot be too upset if he considers himself refused on account of another.” She bit her lip, stifling a laugh, and Darcy recalled the obsequious way Mr Collins had attempted to ingratiate himself with him on account of his filial connection with Lady Catherine.
He sighed and dropped his head.
“I will be forced to befriend him, won’t I?” he asked, barely containing his dislike.
“Well, he will inherit Longbourn one day, and Mama is quite convinced he will turn every Bennet out into the street the moment he does.”
He very well might.
He was about to throw wide the doors of Pemberley to Elizabeth’s family, when he recalled, with striking accuracy, the exact pitch and volume of Mrs Bennet’s conversation. He shuddered.
“That will not be for many years yet, though, my dear, and who knows! Perhaps Jane and Mr Bingley will be settled somewhere close by.”
Elizabeth clapped at his mention of her sister and his friend.
“Oh! Then you fancy they will marry, too? I had so hoped that they would, but I hardly dared to hope it such a certainty.”
“I rather think it was a certainty upon their first meeting,” he said, drily. “Much to Caroline Bingley’s despair. My friend is a lost man, and whilst I deplored the notion of the match, I rather think them well enough suited to be happy.”
He lifted his gaze to Elizabeth’s.
“My own heart, I never once expected to lose so quickly or so very completely.”
***
Both Elizabeth and Mr Darcy returned to Hertfordshire - together with Mr Gardiner who had found some excuse for travelling with them, and really wished to see the famed Mr Collins for himself - shortly after. Elizabeth had kept her news a closely guarded secret, never having posted her letter to Jane, nor wanting to trust such news to paper. When she arrived at Longbourn, the house was in uproar.
“Oh Lizzy, Lizzy, you’ll never guess!” cried Mrs Bennet. “Mr Bingley has proposed! To Jane! And what do you think she has said?”
“I hope “yes”, Mama, or else I shall think it rather a poor show to see you all rejoicing so!”
“Yes, of course she said yes!” Mrs Bennet exclaimed. “Lizzy, you tease me, but I am so very happy! You know that all I want, all I have ever, ever wanted is for my girls to find love, to marry and be happy. And he is so very wealthy, too! Think of it, Lizzy, five thousand a year!”
“In that case, Mama, I have some news of my own.” Elizabeth glanced down at the doorway, which opened to permit Mr Gardiner and Mr Darcy.
“Brother! Oh, how delightful! What brings you here to Longbourn to see us? And -” Mrs Bennet squinted, patting herself down for the glass she never remembered to carry on her person, and vanity precluded her wearing with regularity. “Mr Darcy? What on earth are you doing here?”
“I come to seek a word with Mr Bennet, if I may?” Mr Darcy asked, so politely and pleasantly, that instantly Mrs Bennet forgot ever bearing him any sort of ill-judgement and ushered him hurriedly into Mr Bennet’s study, pulling the door closed behind him and leaning into it, that she might hear what was said.
“Elizabeth!” She hissed, beckoning her daughter over. “What is the meaning of this? You cannot mean -”
Elizabeth merely smiled, enigmatically, at her mother, but that was enough of a confession as to be chapter and verse of their entire brief courtship for Mrs Bennet, who quite forgot to stoop at the doorway and eavesdrop, in her excitement to embrace her second daughter.
“Lizzy, oh my Lizzy! You are to marry Mr Darcy, and Jane, Mr Bingley. How perfectly everything has turned out! Why, there might be a double wedding! Just think, how elegant it would be. Now, I know it is late in the season, but perhaps the Michaelmas daisies will last long enough...”
Lizzy allowed her mother to talk at double her usual speed, expounding on anything even vaguely related to a possible wedding, glancing up only when Mr Bennet’s study door opened, and Mr Darcy walked out, with her father by his side.
“Elizabeth,” Mr Bennet called, gently. “I must say I am utterly flabbergasted. Two meetings I have had in as many hours and two daughters married off almost as quickly.” He pulled his favourite daughter close in an embrace, pausing only to whisper in her ear. “Are you happy, my dear Elizabeth? Is this what you choose?”
“It is, Father.” Her eyes lifted to Mr Darcy’s. “It is.”
A mere matter of weeks later, at the local parish church, not one but two weddings took place. Jane Bennet became Jane Bingley, and even managed to win the grudging affection of her new sister, who could not deny that the happiness she brought to Charles Bingley made him even more pleasant to be around, could such a thing be possible. Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, who could once have summoned up a hundred reasons why he would never marry the young woman he had heard of called “Elizabeth Bennet” was only too happy to wed the real Elizabeth Bennet, who now dropped that moniker and all the unfortunate stories that went along with it, to become, from now until the day she died, Mrs Elizabeth Darcy.
The End.
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Also by Meg Osborne
A Convenient Marriage
A Convenient Marriage Volume 1
Longbourn's Lark: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Three Weeks in Kent: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Suitably Wed: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
A Visit to Scotland: A Pride and Prejudice Variaton
The Consequence of Haste: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
A Surprise Engagement: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Fate and Fortune
Too Fond of Stars: A Persuasion Variation
A Temporary Peace: A Persuasion Variation
Three Sisters from Hertfordshire
A Trip to Pemberley
An Assembly in Bath
An Escape from London
Standalone
/> After the Letter: A Persuasion Continuation
Half the Sum of Attraction: A Persuasion Prequel
A Very Merry Masquerade: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella
The Other Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation Novella
In Netherfield Library and Other Stories
Mr Darcy's Christmas Carol: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Such Peculiar Providence
A Chance at Happiness
The Colonel's Cousin: A Pride and Prejudice Variation
Watch for more at Meg Osborne’s site.
About the Author
Meg Osborne is an avid reader, tea drinker and unrepentant history nerd. She writes sweet historical romance stories and Jane Austen fanfiction, and can usually be found knitting, dreaming up new stories, or on twitter @megoswrites
Read more at Meg Osborne’s site.
