The Ruin of Elizabeth Bennet: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Darcie Rochester

  "Nor will I, as I have told you repeatedly."

  "Well, you should!"

  Lady Matlock sighed and covered her eyes too embarrassed by her husband's continued ranting to watch. Darcy had not the energy to throw his uncle out of the house so he leaned back in his chair, preparing for another tirade.

  "I had too much respect for your father to let his legacy be destroyed this way. Allowing your sister to marry a Jew—letting a wastrel's bastard inherit Pemberley and Rosings. I cannot be silent!"

  "Lewis is my grandson, you cannot speak of him that way!" Lady Catherine chimed in.

  "I will speak of him however I wish. I cannot understand your desire to protect the child, Catherine. I would not want such a creature near Rosings. Bad blood runs through his veins and it will reveal itself as bad blood always does."

  "I would hear you say that to the Duke of Edgecombe," Darcy challenged.

  Lewis's natural father was Blake Essex, prodigal grandson of the Duke of Edgecombe. At the time of Essex's courtship of Anne, he had been a penniless gambler fourth in line for the dukedom with no prospect of inheritance and no property on his mother's side to secure his future. His attentions to Anne had no doubt had mercenary motivations.

  When Lady Catherine had made it blatantly clear Essex would never be allowed to marry Anne, he had abandoned her. The grand irony of it all was that Lewis would one day be a duke if Lady Catherine had let Anne marry as she wished. Lord Linton, the duke's eldest son, had perished in a riding accident earlier last year and Linton's two young sons had succumbed to a fever soon after.

  "Edgecombe would probably agree with me!" Lord Matlock replied, "I have no idea where the boy got his waywardness, he came from a good line. It was probably the mother. His father's marriage was why the duke had disowned him from the beginning I hear."

  "His parentage aside, I will not have Anne's son disinherited!" cried Lady Catherine. All the occupants of the room turned towards her, surprised by the desperation in her voice. There were tears in her eyes.

  "Catherine, I am sure Fitzwilliam has no intention of leaving Lewis with nothing," Lady Matlock said, sending Darcy a pleading glance.

  "As my will stands now, Lewis will have Rosings and Georgiana Pemberley."

  Lady Catherine looked somewhat pacified.

  The Earl looked primed to argue, but Lady Matlock sharply said, "Darling, kindly be silent."

  Surprisingly he held his tongue.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mr. Darcy was asleep beside her. Lizzy had a vague memory of him crawling into her bed in the early dawn hours, but she had fallen back asleep without more than a mumbled greeting. Now, fully awake and coherent, she wondered what he was doing there.

  The glare of the sun through the curtains lit the room in the pale haze of an overcast day. It must be mid-morning. He generally left at dawn, which she assumed was because he had duties to tend to or people who would miss him if he tarried. She had expected he would visit after being absent for so many days, but she had thought it would be evening when he called.

  Yet here he was, sleeping as if it were a perfectly normal thing to crawl into someone else's bed without prior notice. She supposed it was, in principle, his bed as he paid for the house, and it was not as if he had not slept there before, however it still felt strange for him to be there. Perhaps it was the stirring of the servants that embarrassed her. They of course knew what she was, but there had never been physical evidence of her profession until now.

  Is he even wearing a stitch of clothing? she wondered, noting his coat, trousers, and stockings neatly folded over the chair. It was presumptuous enough to invade someone's bed, but to do it in the nude was beyond the pale.

  Cautiously she pulled back the bedclothes and peeked. He was wearing his drawers at least. Oddly this did not make her feel any less dismayed.

  After a leisurely tour of his form, her eyes returned to his face and found him staring back at her amusedly.

  "I was just checking," she explained, a blush rising in her cheeks.

  "Checking?"

  "Yes, checking . . . something."

  He made an assenting murmur as if her answer had been perfectly reasonable then settled back onto the pillow and closed his eyes.

  "Why are you here?"

  "To see you," he mumbled. His eyes remained closed.

  "I need you to leave."

  He reacted as though she had thrown cold water on him, jolting upright and rolling out of bed with celerity. Perhaps her tone had been too severe.

  "I am not upset." She was, though not the kind of upset he feared. "I—I need to use the chamber pot," she explained in a mortified whisper.

  "Oh. Oh. Yes, I will leave. The room."

  "Thank you."

  Darcy hurriedly donned his shirt and trousers then headed bare foot into the hall to wait.

  Lizzy quickly accomplished her task. As she bathe her hands and face, she glanced her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was in a state so she brushed it. Once that was achieved, she dawdled a little more applying some tooth powder.

  Darcy looked quite cold when she opened the door in silent invitation several minutes later.

  Warily he entered the room. She had said she was not upset but her rigid behavior hinted otherwise.

  "Good morning . . . again," she beckoned him to take the place in bed beside her once more. He returned the greeting awkwardly as he scrambled beneath the bedclothes.

  "You are here."

  "Yes."

  Lizzy considered asking for a reason again, but was certain she would get the same unenlightening response so she turned her back to him curving her body against his, inviting the intimacy he seemed so fond of.

  His arms came around her, Lizzy waited, waited to feel his kiss on her neck, waited for hands to roam but he did nothing but hold her.

  "Are we going to . . . ?" She let the question draw on. Goodness, she didn't even know what to call it. Fornicate seemed too harsh a word to utter before breakfast.

  Darcy luckily understood her meaning. "No. That is to say, I had not intended . . . I came here to sleep."

  "To sleep?"

  "Yes."

  Again no explanation. She was sensing a pattern.

  Rolling over to face him, she asked "Is your house being fumigated?"

  Before he could inquire after her meaning she trudged on, "This is of course your house as well, but I have noticed you usually leave at dawn and yet you are here now."

  "I didn't sleep last night. I find your presence comforting. I thought might be able to sleep with you."

  "You find me comforting? Because I've been so terribly pleasant to you lately?"

  "You have been more pleasant than most people in my life."

  "Would you like to discuss whatever is troubling you?"

  "Not particularly." He closed his eyes. It was obvious he wished to end the discussion, but Lizzy was fully awake and horribly curious.

  "Perhaps you should. Jane believes you've chosen me for my conversation and compassion. You might as well utilize it."

  His eyes flew open. "You told your sister of us?"

  "No. She is still under the impression you are a half-blind old lady."

  He shuttered his eyes once more.

  Gently she prodded him in the chest. "Tell me your woes."

  "Unnecessary," he muttered as he turned his back towards her. She did not know if he meant her prodding was needless or discussing his burdens. It was suddenly very important she find out. She shook him.

  "Your concept of compassion is very different than mine," he said, but he turned back to face her. The grin on his face betrayed his amusement.

  Her expectant stare brooked no refusal. He searched his mind for how to put his concerns to words. So much of the previous day's interview with his relation had alarmed him. Lady Catherine's knowledge that he had a mistress was troubling. His uncle's continued insistence on the match with Lady Celia frustrated him. However, what concerned him most of all was
Georgiana's future. He was at a loss as to how a happy resolution might be found for her.

  "I believe my sister may be in love with a gentleman whom some of our relation deems unsuitable. I am struggling with what ought to be done. I have no intention of forbidding the match as my aunt and uncle wish me to do, though I cannot pretend I am pleased.

  "While I have no objections to the character of the gentleman, his circumstances . . . he is a Jew . . . or at least he was. The family made a public conversion, but it is generally believed this was done so that Mr. Friedler's father could hold political office. They are a family of some influence, but . . . ."

  Lizzy needed no further explanation; Wealth could get one far in society, but it could not erase the stain of one's breeding.

  "You will truly allow your sister to marry this Mr. Friedler?" she asked, not bothering to hide her surprise. Darcy's disclosure raised her respect for him, yet it also caused her anger. He would allow his sister to follow her heart even if it meant going against society. But his own heart . . . that he would not heed.

  "In a few months Georgiana will have reached her majority—it will not matter what I allow."

  "No doubt she will still wish for your blessing."

  "I believe I will give it. I would not have her know the pain of disappointed love."

  Darcy's eyes held Lizzy's with great intensity. She wanted to look away from the heart-wrenching ache they she saw there, but she did not allow her gaze to falter. He had inflicted that pain upon himself, she would not be made to pity him.

  "Yet I fear either option must lead to regret."

  Lizzy nodded. "She will lose some of her friends if she marries him and from the sound of it some of her relation as well."

  "Yes, that is what keeps me awake."

  Lizzy nearly began uttering weak reassurances, but caught herself before she could speak. There was nothing to be said, no circumstances she could alter. Georgiana Darcy was doomed to suffer and her brother knew it. Mr. Darcy did not seem the sort to want empty comfort.

  Instead, with her signature teasing tone she said, "I thought I was keeping you awake."

  "You are a welcome distraction. I will have to leave at noon to meet with my steward, but I would like to stay here until then—if it is agreeable to you."

  "I have no other plans."

  "It must be very dull for you being here, alone in this house," Darcy slurred after a moment, his eyes were drooping shut again. Sleep would not evade him much longer.

  "Not at all. I have not managed to be bored quite yet. I've had time to work on my accomplishments. Soon I shall be the most accomplished of the Bennet ladies."

  "You are not already?"

  "Oh, no. I have a passable hand with embroidery, but Kitty is the superior amongst us though one would not think she would have the patience for it. And Mary of course is the best at music."

  Darcy's eyes popped open. He had heard enough of Mary Bennet's singing for a lifetime and he had only been subjected to it for one evening.

  Observing his disbelief Lizzy laughed. "Yes, I know. But she has decided it to be her talent and so we all must agree. Life is easier that way. Jane has somewhat admirable skill in almost every accomplishment and she is of course the sweetest person alive. I do have the distinction of being the great reader of the family, even if I did not think myself particularly well-read. But now that I have the time, I shall surpass them all. Except for Jane's sweetness, I do not think there is much hope for me there."

  Lizzy glanced up to find her audience asleep. The small smile on his restful face incited her lips to form a smile of their own. She felt so many complicated things for the man, but in this moment she was simply happy he had found some peace. She stayed a minute more, until she was quite sure he was deeply asleep then she carefully drew away from him.

  He caught her just as she had reached the edge of the bed. "You are abandoning me?"

  "Yes, I do not usually sleep so late. Mrs. Walters undoubtedly has breakfast ready for me and is wondering when I shall appear . . . . You are perfectly welcome to join me."

  "I'm not hungry."

  "Suit yourself."

  "Wait, I will come." He stood up slowly, like a man much further along in years.

  "You might as well stay here and sleep. I promise I will return."

  He took her hand, giving it a gentle tug he said, "I'm coming, let us go."

  Lizzy usually dressed to go down to breakfast, but he did not seem so inclined, so she followed him out of the room. She knew he would never make an appearance in his own dining room in such informal attire—or did she? For all she knew he did go to breakfast in such a manner. Perhaps he read the paper with his feet propped on the table. She giggled at the imagery.

  "No, it is my little joke and I won't share," Lizzy said in reply to his inquiring glance.

  "A jest at my expense no doubt."

  To her own surprise, she rose up on her toes and planted a kiss on his rough cheek. "No doubt."

  Mr. Darcy observed Lizzy with rapt interest as if he had been tasked with writing her biography and an entire chapter was to be dedicated to her breakfast habits. Lizzy found his scrutiny almost as disconcerting as Mrs. Walters continuous interruptions.

  She had never seen the housekeeper so solicitous. While Mrs. Walters had certainly not been neglectful in her duties she had never been this enthusiastic. Really the woman was almost giddy with excitement. While she must be eager to impress the gentleman she must know to be her true employer, Lizzy suspected she also enjoyed looking at Mr. Darcy in his disheveled state.

  Mrs. Walters bustled up from the kitchen, tea tray in hand. "Here you are, sir," she said.

  Lizzy set to readying for Darcy a cup of the tea he had been badgered in to asking for. He would have been quite content to watch her drink her chocolate and nibble on a biscuit, taking no refreshment at all himself.

  The housekeeper lingered beside the table even though her task was complete.

  "You are looking a bit peaky, sir, I must say. I am no cook but I can manage simple fare."

  "Perhaps some toast would agree with me," Darcy replied, though he had no desire to eat. Anything to stop the woman's fussing over him.

  "And an egg, I think."

  Mrs. Walters was out of the room before he could argue.

  Lizzy was certain the persistent housekeeper would return with a feast. Hopefully he would then attend to his own meal rather than stare at her.

  "You do look very ill," she said observing the dark half-moons beneath his eyes.

  "Thank you."

  After taking a sip from the cup she had placed before him he said, "You remembered how I take my tea."

  Lizzy nodded. She had prepared the tea so automatically she had not realized it was odd that she should remember such a trivial detail. All those years ago when she had watched Miss Bingley, Charlotte, and Lady Catherine prepare his tea she must have filed the information away somewhere in her memory, yet why she would have done so she could not fathom.

  While she was considering this mystery, Darcy reached across the table to take her hand. She flinched away then, wondering why she had done so, reached out only for him to draw his hand back at the same moment.

  To cover the awkwardness Darcy asked, "How did you find your sisters?"

  "They are well. The very promise of leaving London has seemed to have improved Jane's health."

  "Excellent."

  Lizzy, unable to think of how to continue the conversation, was grateful for Mrs. Walter's reappearance. Darcy to his credit tried to look enthusiastic about the toast, eggs, blood pudding, and kippers that were laid before him. His interest in the food, however, did not last long after the servant had left the room. Lizzy felt his eyes.

  "Mr. Darcy?" Lizzy said not looking up from her own breakfast.

  "Yes?"

  "You are staring."

  "Yes."

  "You might at least apologize."

  With perfect solemnity he replied, "It sh
ould be you to apologize for such distracting beauty."

  His speech generated the result he desired, Lizzy looked up at him, eyes full of merriment.

  "You are ridiculous."

  "I am charming."

  Lizzy's none-too-delicate burst of laughter echoed through the dining room.

  "I'm still waiting for this compassion your elder sister spoke of."

  "I think it would be lacking in compassion of me to allow you to go about with such dangerous misapprehensions."

  "And so you laugh at me?"

  "Yes."

  This time when he reached across the table to take her hand she did not flinch. He clasped it for only a moment then released it as if he had merely needed to assure himself she was truly there. Lizzy wondered if she had lost ground in her battle to guard her heart by allowing the gesture. She also wondered if she cared.

  "Will I see you again this evening?"

  "Unfortunately, no. I must escort my sister to a ball."

  "Promise me you will dance with at least one young lady wanting for a partner. One of those poor creatures who has been slighted by other men on want of connection, fortune, or beauty."

  "I detest dancing with strangers," Darcy said pleadingly. He pleaded because he knew he was going to do whatever she asked of him.

  "Oh, but you are the charming Mr. Darcy, surely everyone has demanded an introduction to you."

  "An introduction does not equate to an acquaintance."

  "Of course it does, your charm and affability is instantaneously disarming, even the sullenest of the sour-tempered find themselves your friend after the briefest conversation."

  "Quite right, my charm is like your compassion in its efficiency."

  "In all seriousness, promise me you will dance with some neglected young lady."

  "I will promise, but you must know you are an odd woman, demanding I dance with other young ladies."

  "I am confident in my claim of you."

  "As you should be."

  Even as Lizzy smiled, basking in his admiration, she felt the danger. She should not feel confident in her claim. Someday, probably soon, he would need to marry a suitable lady, and she would be obliged to give him up. He might easily forget their association was not permanent, but she could not.