By Consequence of Marriage (A Pride & Prejudice Novel)

by Elizabeth Ann West

  Elizabeth's eyes widened at the words her aunt did not say. "Aunt, surely Uncle, he's never . . ." Elizabeth was at a loss for words. Her Uncle Edward was the kindest, sweetest man of good sense she knew, aside from her own father until recent events had taken place. She could never imagine him turning violent.

  Shaking her hands vigorously, Mrs. Gardiner denied the accusation against her husband. "No, but it's not uncommon for women of any station. We are beholden to the fathers and brothers and husbands the Good Lord places in our lives. This is why making a good match is key to future happiness." Elizabeth nodded and yawned. Relieved she was no longer alone, she felt quite sleepy and tried to wish her aunt a good night. Before she could leave, Madeline Gardiner seized her niece's hand, keeping her rooted to the cold floor where she stood.

  "Be careful of the consequences, my dear. To defy the wishes of your parents is a very serious decision, from their perspective, they are making decisions on what is best for you."

  "Papa, perhaps, but Mama . . ." Elizabeth's voice trailed off. She didn't need to voice the years of abuse she had suffered as her mother's least favorite child. Her aunt had seen and heard all before. In some cases, Madeline Gardiner had surreptitiously provided for Elizabeth, which had decreased once her own children came along.

  "I still caution you. You will always have a place here, but the life of a spinster sister is unsteady. I am not sure you would welcome the unpredictable nature of such a life. Please think carefully and weigh the risks and benefits of your actions."

  As the bedroom door opened and Mr. Gardiner stepped in, immediately apologetic for interrupting and offering to give them more time, Elizabeth leaned down and kissed her aunt's cheek.

  "I promise I will," she whispered, turning to offer a big smile to her uncle and bid him goodnight.

  Madeline Gardiner waited for her husband to ready for bed and join her. As he snuggled closer to her for warmth and affection, she stayed his attentions to tell him she was concerned about this Collins man for their Lizzie. Rolling over to his back, Mr. Gardiner appeased his wife's worries.

  "A bit of challenge might be good for the girl. We've only seen them together for but a few moments, Maddy. I'd be more concerned if the man was a flimsy suitor she could command and walk all over." He extended his arm for his wife to rest her head on his shoulder.

  Sighing to feign consent, Madeline Gardiner still had misgivings and believed Elizabeth's tales about the parson, as outrageous as they seemed. "Perhaps you're right, dear. We'll just have to watch them closely when he returns." All she received was a grunt in response before Mr. Gardiner's familiar snore became the lullaby that allowed her own body to settle into slumber.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Reverend William Collins puffed his chest with pride as the Rosings footman pulled back a chair in his honor. On many occasions, he had been invited to tea with his patroness, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, but it was a rare occasion, scarcely a few, when she invited her lowly pastor to dine in the formal dining room. To the casual observer, the invitation was more added convenience for her Ladyship, stemming from the hour at which he arrived from London, and less of an intention to speak to his social status.

  "Tell me of this cousin you selected for your wife. You say you are to marry the second eldest daughter?" Lady Catherine demanded.

  Mr. Collins hesitated for a moment to choose his words carefully. He wanted Lady Catherine to approve of his choice. Despite Mr. Bennet's plans for he and Elizabeth to reside at Longbourn, the loyal pastor had no such desire to lose his independence. "Yes, my cousin, Elizabeth Bennet. She is all that is desirable in a lady. Though she may be the second daughter by birth, I assure your ladyship, she is superior in breeding and manners."

  "How peculiar the second is to marry before the first. I'm afraid this family may lack the breeding to hold such an estate. It was wise indeed the property entailed away from the female line."

  "I beg your pardon, my ladyship, but Miss Bennet is to marry not one week after our return. She is engaged to a Mr. Charles Bingley of Netherfield Park, a leased property that neighbors the Longbourn estate."

  The first course of soup arrived and while Lady Catherine regally sipped from each spoonful, the brash manners of Mr. Collins barely allowed him to diminish the slurping noise that came with each of his attempts. After a few moments, Lady Catherine set her spoon down. The action frightened Mr. Collins, who did not know the proper etiquette for such a moment, so he followed suit. As the footman moved to clear the soup course away after such a short tenure on the table, Lady Catherine pursed her lips and intertwined her long, bejeweled fingers under her chin while she pondered.

  "Bingley? Bingley, you say? I believe I have known my nephew, Fitzwilliam, to mention the name."

  Collins forgot his hunger for a moment and disappointment at the removal of the wonderful, warm soup. He brightened at being in possession of news for his patroness. "They are friends, I believe, my ladyship. Your nephew, Mr. Darcy, had just completed a visit to the area when I arrived. It would appear that he and my intended were in an unfortunate accident. This is why I must ask for an extension to complete my business, you know. Miss Elizabeth broke her ankle in the accident and lately recovered her health."

  "An accident with my nephew! Why was I not informed at once? I might know you would send word but you did not." The steely gaze of Lady Catherine turned upon Collins.

  Mr. Collins' face paled as he gulped down the saliva pooling in his mouth. "I–that is I, I only did not include it in my letters, my ladyship, because–because I was certain you were informed . . . And – and as I understand, your nephew was not injured in the least." His mouth wobbled into a pathetic smile of appeasement.

  "Well, I demand the particulars now!" Lady Catherine held up her hand as another course was set to arrive, a motion that instructed the footman to wait.

  "I'm afraid I am not in possession of numerous details, my ladyship. To my knowledge, the accident occurred as Mr. Darcy was riding into town. My cousin Elizabeth walks down the same lane and his horse nearly struck her. She dove off the road and Mr. Darcy rescued her from the rocky trenches where she suffered a head injury and a broken ankle."

  "Where was her father in all this? Her escort? She was walking alone?"

  Mr. Collins felt validated in sharing an opinion so similar to his patroness, failing to recall how much he desired the woman to approve his future wife. "I'm afraid her father allows certain behaviors that I assure you will not continue once she is married to me. I am instructing her on proper reading material, and I am certain after the wedding she may find herself with much to occupy her time that would preclude such idleness and inappropriate behavior."

  Mr. Collins waited for a response, but Lady Catherine remained silent. The silence was a new behavior for Mr. Collins and he began to sweat profusely, sitting in his chair of inquisition, despite no real change in the room's temperature.

  The grand lady appeared perplexed as she considered the puzzle pieces laid before her concerning her nephew. Mr. Collins' stomach growled in a most unbecoming manner as he could smell the next course, but had yet to taste of it. The sound distracted Lady Catherine and she motioned for the food to again be served to the table.

  As the silver dome lifted away, Mr. Collins felt a rush of delight at the vision of a shank of roast beef served with a side of golden potatoes. Carefully, he cut a piece of the beef with his knife and was just about to eat when Lady Catherine addressed him again, forcing him to put his fork down.

  "Relate to me the particulars of my nephew leaving the area. You say he had just concluded his visits yet his nearest friend is to marry the eldest sister? That sounds impossibly odd."

  Mr. Collins shrugged and looked at Lady Catherine with an honest expression of bewilderment. "I say, I must concur most heartily with your ladyship's conclusions. I am afraid I am not privy to the reason your nephew, the illustrious Mr. Darcy, vacated the county. All I know is he received an express from Lo
ndon on the evening before my cousins returned home from Netherfield, and he was off at morning light."

  Lady Catherine's mouth opened in shock, but she closed it at once. With a loud bellow, she summoned her housekeeper. She continued to yell until the woman appeared. "Send word to ready my carriage and pack my things! Immediately! I am to London to visit my brother and sister-in-law. Well, don't just stand there, go!" The poor wisp of a woman startled at her mistress' pique and quickly backed out of the room.

  Resuming a more neutral tone, still laced with the imperious demeanor that Lady Catherine possessed in spades, she asked her pastor a loaded question. "Mr. Collins, have you unpacked yet?"

  Collins hastily swallowed the half chewed bite of his beef, offering his answer with great alacrity. "No, my lady, I saw to my business with my man regarding the rents as you instructed and intended to unpack this evening upon return from dinner."

  "Wonderful, finish up here and I will take you back to London."

  "But your ladyship," Mr. Collins let out a ghastly hiccough. He hastily covered his mouth with his napkin. "I mean to stay for a number of days to attend to the church business that has accrued. And there's still the question of my extended leave of absence."

  Lady Catherine waved her hands in a gesture of frivolity. "Yes, yes, your absence is certainly understandable. But I must visit London and I must leave this evening. You will ride with me back to London, and be with your relatives in town by mid-morning. We should only need to stop at one inn."

  Another hiccough escaped Mr. Collins' mouth, as he struggled to reign over his body's betrayal with good regulation. Clumsily, he grasped a glass of wine and attempted to drink his embarrassing situation away. "While your generosity is most kind, Lady Catherine, I must say I have no hesitation to take the post-chaise back to London as I originally planned . . ."

  "Nonsense! You shall ride with me, for economy is a virtue never to be dismissed. Besides," the grand lady stood from the table glaring at Mr. Collins until he realized he was amiss in not rising for a lady. He stumbled to correct himself, lacking any semblance of grace, "I may have need of more information you can supply." With very little pomp, Lady Catherine left the room to manage her own arrangements.

  Mr. Collins sat down and continued to eat his roast beef. The two footmen in the dining room shared a smirk as they eyed the bumbling pastor eating as quickly as he could. At any moment, Lady Catherine could come back in and demand that dinner come to an end. Eating quickly proved difficult as the poor pastor's diaphragm would spasm with every bite. He dreaded another trip to the London so swiftly with nothing to look forward to but the uncomfortable plight of indigestion, no matter how well sprung the Rosings carriages were maintained.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  On his fourth day in London, a foggy morning reminded Charles Bingley why he dreamed of owning his own estate. As he strolled the three blocks from his usual rented rooms to the town home of his dearest friend, the dreary yellow haze of London's sky held no power to diminish his happiness. Walking with a jaunt appropriate for a man in love, he breathed into his chilled hands, despite the leather gloves he wore, and waited for a servant usher him inside.

  Turning to the utter lack of activity on the street behind him, the well-to-do families of Mayfair all gone to their country homes, Bingley noted the inordinate amount of time passed before his knock was acknowledged. It was not uncommon for the knocker to be missing when Darcy was home, so Bingley made a fist and pounded a few times. The door was opened by Mrs. Potter, who recognized the affable young man from his many visits.

  "I'm sorry, Mr. Bingley, but my master is not in. Perhaps you'd care to leave your card?"

  "I would wait for him, is he due back soon?"

  "I'm afraid I do not know, sir. My instructions are to deny entry to all guests. I hope you understand." The older woman held kindness in her eyes, wishing she might inform this friend of the burdens her master carried in hopes of sending him support.

  Taken aback, Mr. Bingley nodded. "Of course Mrs. Potter, I understand your position."

  To fulfill society's obligations, Charles Bingley dutifully removed his card from the holder in his top breast pocket. Handing over the paper with a fine linen finish, he chuckled. Indeed many years passed since he'd last maneuvered through such formalities to visit his friend Darcy. "Do tell him I shall be at the club if he returns."

  "I most happily shall, sir," Mrs. Potter said and closed the door.

  The abrupt treatment was so foreign to Bingley that he stood there for a moment mesmerized and astounded by the Darcy House staff. Shrugging his shoulders, he turned up his coat's collar against the chill and questioned his wisdom at forgoing his carriage this morning. He counted on the warmth and hospitality of Darcy, finding the tip of his nose completely cold by the time he reached the club.

  Inside his club, Darcy ran his finger around the rim of the disgusting, sugary drink Lord Derby was so particularly fond of drinking. To work on a man, you must know his drink, and to know his drink meant you must show equal appreciation for said selection as an acknowledgment of good taste. Unfortunately, good taste or no, the Earl of Derby was in no mood to budge on his decision. Darcy was stuck drinking the dark, spiced rum for no gain.

  "You are a man of tradition, your lordship. I am astounded years of our mutual satisfaction is to go by the wayside over an impetuous decision by a young girl."

  "What you declare were merely the actions of a young girl, I take as an indication of the dereliction of duty by her guardian. How am I to be assured your crop yields will not suffer under your direction? Your livestock will produce the same amount of wool as they did under your father's leadership?” The Earl chuckled at the younger Darcy, enjoying his position of power over the heir to the largest non-royal land holdings in their shared county. For years, John Thomas Stanley merely tolerated the business he was forced to endure with George Darcy. The Darcy family, with their French origins, was never politically savvy enough to hold a title for long. How they increased their land holdings was a mystery to the earl.

  “For three years you have voiced no concerns, my lord. I wonder at your mysterious change of conscience. Tell me, does this Carmichael hold debts against you?” Darcy asked with complete seriousness, in a low tone.

  “Certainly not! You should take care, sir, when you are speaking to a peer!”

  Darcy pursed his lips and almost took another sip of his drink before remembering the contents of the glass and returned it to the small side table between them. “No, I should say not. I believe one would call your transaction a bribe, seeing as his wife is your mistress.”

  The Earl of Derby stood and scowled at the well-informed younger man. “You accuse in the wrong direction, sir. I scorn your family because my plans were to marry my son to your sister and unite the county under one name. A strong name. The Stanley name. But your ineptitude in protecting your sister's virtue shall cost you dearly. I take no leave of you.” The Earl of Derby began to walk away.

  Darcy bit his tongue to keep his counsel. He would never have allowed Georgiana to marry the degenerate Edward Stanley, fashioned as Lord Strange. He did not wish to alert others in the room of his sister's marriage. Absent-mindedly, he reached for his glass and took a swig, only to spit it back into the glass as Charles Bingley arrived and took the vacant seat.

  “Darcy, old man, fancy finding you in your cups at this hour of the morning!” Bingley motioned for new drinks from the male servant on the far end of the room.

  “Mmmm.” Distracted, Darcy offered a noncommittal reply.

  As the drinks arrived, Darcy happily traded his rum for a glass of scotch. Still not fostering the conversation, Darcy drank while Bingley chattered on.

  “. . . And I've just come from your house to discuss the happy news!” Bingley beamed as he lifted his drink in a toast-like fashion.

  The earlier words, Darcy had lost in a haze, but the last bit he caught. “Happy news, indeed.” Darcy scoffed, confused as t
o how the wedding that was supposed to be kept a secret was known to his oldest friend. Perhaps his aunt had invited him . . . but no, the Matlocks were barely civil to the Bingleys when they dined at Darcy House. Aunt Maggie would never invite Charles or his sisters to such an intimate family affair.

  “I thought you might be slightly happier than that, old chap. It IS a wedding, after all.” Bingley smiled at his friend with eagerness. Ordinarily, Bingley's cheer was a balm to Darcy's sourness, but not today.

  “I'll be there with bells on, Bingley, to play my part. But I cannot promise to match your enthusiasm.”

  Bingley laughed, of course his friend could not match his enthusiasm, he wouldn't be the groom! “Now, I am aware you disdain public displays, but it will mean a great deal that you are a part of that special day.”

  Confused, Darcy wondered how Bingley obtained knowledge of Georgiana's wedding. This was bizarre! Deciding to test the man, Darcy asked his question with a surly tone. “And pray, which day is the special day?”

  “Why November 13th in the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred eleven, and a glorious day at that!”

  Impressed, Darcy raised a glass. “To November 13th and our mutual misery.”

  Bingley laughed again, this time halfheartedly, at the tease by Darcy. He was about to continue their visit when he realized the time. “Oh dash it, I must go, errands to run, supplies to collect for the ball. Caroline's been a right mean taskmaster!” Darcy nodded, still not fully attending to his friend.

  Bingley rushed off worried he might miss the appointment with his solicitor, an appointment he dare not miss. Once warm in his own carriage, having the sense to call for it at last, Charles Bingley remembered he meant to ask after Darcy's sister.