Goodly Creatures: A Pride and Prejudice Deviation

by Massey, Beth

  “Your sister, Miss Mary, said you do not sleep. Is that why you are often at Oakham Mount early in the morning?”

  “Yes, Mr Darcy, my inability to sleep is just another example of my transformed character. But I did not bring you here to commiserate with my troubles. Can we agree that we will act as though we do not know each other?”

  “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, that is the prudent plan. I promise I will endeavour not to make another mistake like last night. My only excuse is that you, more than any other person I have ever met—you have the ability to bewilder me—in your presence I always seem to do things totally against my nature.” This time he was pleased his words made her laugh.

  “I was not aware I had that power over you. What was it I did last night that caused you to become so befuddled?”

  “It was the way you were telling the story to the children. I recently had a conversation with… eh an acquaintance… she described a scene very similar to the one you presented last night. I had a strong sense of déjà vu that was disorienting.” Mr Darcy thought how ridiculous to call his daughter an acquaintance, but he knew there was no way under the circumstances he could truthfully reveal the facts of his recollection.

  “Mr Darcy, I must get back for breakfast and to read to my father. The longer we tarry here, the more possibility someone will see us—and then the gossip will truly begin.”

  “You are right, Miss Elizabeth. We must part, because unlike you, I am very concerned about propriety, and I also share your need to ensure we end the speculation about the two of us having a prior acquaintance.”

  This time Mr Darcy’s words reminded her of his disapproval during their final discussion. Again, she was concerned that he continued to consider her wanton and mercenary. She stifled a sigh and stroked Caliban’s ear pre-emptively to keep him from reacting to her discomfort. It was time to end this conference.

  Darcy felt the need to make amends for his earlier slight. “Before we part, would you like me to tell you anything about our daughter? She is a topic I always love to discuss.”

  Elizabeth looked positively horrified by his words, and more harshly than necessary, she replied. “No, no, please no. I think it best I know nothing.” This time Caliban snarled in protest.

  Darcy once again saw tears held back by a will of iron. He desperately wanted to comfort her but knew neither Elizabeth nor Caliban would appreciate his efforts. He remained silent while she composed herself.

  With a forced smile, she said, “Goodbye Mr Darcy. With luck, we will only see each other rarely while you are at Netherfield.” She stood up, put her bonnet on and began to pack the tea things into her basket. He stood, and she folded the blanket and placed it in the basket. She gave him her familiar lopsided grin and said, “It is a beautiful day, you should give that magnificent horse of yours a gallop, and then perhaps you could achieve a bit of joy by shooting some poor defenceless birds.” With that she turned, and she and Caliban began to descend the hill.

  His unexpressed wish was quite the opposite of hers… he did want to see her. It was several minutes before he started his descent.

  30 BLESSED BE THE TIE THAT BINDS

  Elizabeth was determined to stay out of the path of Mr Darcy. He evoked both memories and emotions she felt best left unexplored. Every morning she left immediately after her time with her father, just in case the men from Netherfield decided to call again. They did not, but her apprehension did not diminish. By Sunday, the spectre of meeting him at services sparked a new round of fear. Appearances would not allow her to miss two weeks in a row, so her plan was to watch Mr Darcy from a distance. As soon as he became distracted while speaking with the vicar, she would depart—walking in the direction of Longbourn.

  On Monday, Jane Bennet received a note from Netherfield while the family was gathered for breakfast. The footman who delivered the message indicated he had been instructed to wait for an answer.

  Mrs Bennet’s eyes were aglow with pleasure, and she made no attempt to contain her excitement, eagerly questioning her daughter as she read the note.

  “Well, Jane, who is it from? What is it about? What does he say?”

  “Mama, it is not from a he. It would be improper for Mr Bingley to send me a note. It is from Miss Bingley,” said Jane, but then she acquiesced to her mother’s insistence and read the note aloud.

  My dear Friend, you must take pity on Louisa and me. We shall be in danger of hating one another for the rest of our lives if you do not come today. We always quarrel after a day with no others to distract us in our conversation. My brother and the gentlemen are to dine with the officers.

  Yours ever, Caroline Bingley

  “Dining out,” said Mrs Bennet, “that is very unlucky.”

  “May I take the carriage?” asked Jane.

  Mrs Bennet studied the situation for a few seconds before she said with determination, “No, my dear, you had better go on horseback. It seems likely to rain; and then you will be forced to stay the night.”

  If Elizabeth had not been distracted with her own anguished thoughts about the gentlemen dining with the officers, she would have confronted her mother for her ridiculous ploy. She had intended to spend the afternoon with Charlotte and Betsy, and the proximity of Mr Darcy meant she would have to revise her plans. His presence in the neighbourhood was causing her to be quite out of sorts—not to mention those puzzling feelings of longing he had stirred. Why did he have to come to Hertfordshire? She was beginning to fear he might have done it on purpose. If so, how could he have found out where she was? Everything, including John’s appointment, had gone through her uncle. Mrs Reynolds had assured her he knew nothing about where her nephew was working. All Elizabeth had ever wanted of this man—once the money was exchanged—was his good opinion, but she had wanted it from afar. He must realize her sisters were still in jeopardy if her secret was exposed. And what of his daughter’s safety?

  With all her musings, Elizabeth did not realize that Jane set out to Netherfield on horse back, and did indeed get caught in a rainstorm. As her mother had schemed, she was forced to stay at Netherfield that night.

  The next morning at breakfast, Mrs Bennet was quite proud she had been successful in her quest to have Jane come in contact with one particular gentleman. She kept exclaiming, “This was a lucky idea of mine, indeed!”

  Mary appeared displeased with her mother’s reasoning and said, “Mama, you cannot take credit for making it rain. We all know who is responsible, and the Lord definitely did not do so in order to allow Jane to spend time with Mr Bingley.’’

  A second note came from Netherfield—this time for Elizabeth.

  My dearest Lizzy,

  I find myself very unwell this morning. I became thoroughly soaked with the downpour yesterday. Mr Bingley and his sisters will not hear of my returning home until I am better. They insist also on my seeing Mr Jones. Please alert the rest of my family so they do not become alarmed if they should hear of his having been to see me. I do not mean to concern you… excepting a sore throat and a headache, there is not much the matter with me. Your loving sister, Jane

  “Well, my dear,” said Mr Bennet, when Elizabeth had read the note aloud, “If your daughter should have a dangerous illness… if she should die, it will be a comfort to know that it was in pursuit of Mr Bingley, and under your orders.”

  “Oh! I am not at all afraid of her dying. People do not die of a trifling cold.”

  Her entire family looked stricken by her remark, and said in unison, “What about Tom?”

  Mrs Bennet looked momentarily contrite, but soon was back to feeling pleased with the success of her scheme.

  Elizabeth was very anxious for her sister, and she quickly became determined to go to her. She knew the carriage was not available, and as she was no horsewoman; she decided walking was her only alternative.

  “How can you be so uncaring toward your sister?” cried her mother, “You will not be fit to be seen when you get there. Mr Bingley and his sisters will
most certainly lose their good opinion of Jane when they see you covered in mud.”

  “I shall be very fit to see Jane. That is what is most important. The distance is nothing when one has such a motive as sisterly love. Besides, it is only three miles each way. I often cover that much distance and will be home by dinner.”

  Lydia set out to walk with Elizabeth as far as Meryton, and Maria Lucas soon joined the duo. In Meryton they parted; Maria and Lydia went on to visit with Charlotte in the lodgings provided for officers’ families. As she waved goodbye, Elizabeth wished she could avoid Mr Darcy and go with them. Her preference was most assuredly to spend time with her friend and her children and not that proud man whose disapproval of her seemed to be always just below the surface. Of course there were those times when he smiled… but she could not worry about either memory… Jane needed her.

  The fields were muddy, but Lizzy crossed them at a quick pace, jumping over stiles and springing over puddles with impatience. Her apprehension about spending time with Mr Darcy in the company of others grew as she neared her destination. She resolved the most prudent course was to spend the entire day with Jane. With weary ankles, dirty stockings, and a face glowing with the warmth of exercise, she arrived at Netherfield.

  Elizabeth was shown into the breakfast parlour. Everyone but her sister was having a late meal. As she expected, Mr Bingley’s sisters looked askance at her appearance. They seemed to be silently criticizing her audacity to walk three miles in such dirty weather alone. Despite their looks of disapproval, their brother received her very cordially. Mr Bingley displayed sincere politeness and kindness, and his sisters were moved to extend their welcome to her by the force of his encouragement. Mr Darcy said very little, but stared at her intently the way she remembered from past interactions.

  Mr Darcy was divided between admiration of the brilliancy which exercise had given to her complexion, and concern that coming so far by herself would have a negative impact on her desire to keep gossip at bay. He had a momentary flash of memory, and looked at her shoes. She was indeed wearing boots, and not slippers, but he could not stifle a fleeting look of discomfort with the memory.

  Elizabeth noticed Mr Darcy’s disapproval and in the interest of avoiding his severe stare, she determined to remove herself from his presence. She inquired after her sister, and was told she had not slept well and was feverish. Elizabeth asked to be taken to her immediately.

  Jane would never have demanded in her note that Elizabeth come, because she would not want to cause alarm or inconvenience. She had refrained from expressing her longing for a visit and the comfort it would give, but Elizabeth knew her sister well enough to know it was desired. Though Jane had never totally forgiven Lizzy for not disclosing the secrets of her lost year, she had often been there to comfort her when she awoke with nightmares. Elizabeth always reciprocated by being as caring and loving a sister as possible.

  Jane was delighted at Lizzy’s entrance. She was not equal, however, to much conversation, and could attempt little beside expressions of gratitude. Elizabeth lay beside her and rubbed her back. After her sister fell asleep, Elizabeth sat beside her and read rather than joining her host and hostess and their guest.

  Mr Jones, the apothecary, came, and after examining his patient, said, as Elizabeth had already guessed, that she had caught a violent cold. Privately, he assured Elizabeth that her lungs seemed clear unlike the way Master Trent’s had been. He advised Elizabeth to encourage rest and nourishment and told Jane she must stay in bed. As her feverish symptoms had increased and her head ached acutely, she put up no resistance.

  Elizabeth stayed by her sister’s bed until the clock struck three when she felt proper behaviour dictated she must go. Miss Bingley, who had come to sit with her sister, offered her the carriage. Lizzy was set to accept, but Jane became disheartened at the idea of parting with her. Her despondency obligated Miss Bingley to extend an invitation to Elizabeth to stay at Netherfield. Despite her anxiety about Mr Darcy, Elizabeth knew it was best for her sister. A servant was dispatched to Longbourn to inform her family of her stay and bring back some clothes.

  Elizabeth was informed to be ready for dinner at half-past six. When she arrived, all were worried for Miss Bennet’s health, but Mr Bingley displayed the most concern. In answer to his sincere solicitude, she informed him Jane had not improved.

  Mr Bingley was the only one of the party whom she believed truly felt anxiety for her sister. His worry was evident, and his kind words to Elizabeth were most pleasing and relieved her fear of being perceived an intruder. She was gratified Mr Darcy was conversing with Miss Bingley—though it appeared a half-hearted effort. Elizabeth observed him cautiously glance at her periodically as he often had at Pemberley. Her hope was that it was too little attention for Miss Bingley to notice.

  Darcy could not stop thinking about Miss Elizabeth. He was careful to mask his countenance so no one could discern his thoughts. After their discussion on Oakham Mount and his day spent with her family, he had returned to sketching her character. Every time he learned something about her, it contradicted something he thought he already knew.

  He had been convinced she was without proper feelings during her negotiations to extract money. Yet, her worry for Miss Bennet was obviously genuine and most appealing. He could not imagine either of Bingley’s sisters caring for each other or their brother as generously. He and Georgiana had always been very concerned with each other’s welfare, but the age difference made it different than care for a sibling so close in age—a relationship of equals. He knew one example that rivalled Miss Elizabeth’s care. The image of Bethany cuddling her brother when he was ill or insisting she had to kiss each of his scrapes flashed through his mind. Hopefully Bethany was only like her mother in good ways.

  When dinner was over, Elizabeth returned to Jane. As soon as she was out of the room, Miss Bingley began abusing her. Her manners were pronounced to be very bad indeed, a mixture of pride and impertinence. She had no conversation, no style, no taste, and no beauty. Caroline spent a great deal of time discussing how out of date her clothes were, and how Elizabeth seemed to have no sense of fashion at all.

  Mrs Hurst added her agreement by observing with laughter, “She has nothing, in short, to recommend her, but being an excellent walker. She looked positively wild this morning.”

  “She did indeed, Louisa. I could barely keep the distaste I felt for her appearance from my countenance. Why must she be scampering about the country? You would think her sister was in danger of dying.”

  “Yes, and her petticoat… I hope you saw her petticoat, six inches deep in mud… I am absolutely certain.”

  “Your picture may be very exact, Louisa,” said Bingley; “but this was all lost upon me. I thought Miss Elizabeth Bennet looked remarkably well when she came into the room this morning; her dirty petticoat quite escaped my notice. I cannot comment on whether her gowns are outdated, but she seems to have a good sense of what colours enhance her appearance. The gold frock she wore at the party at Lucas Lodge made her appear to glow in the candlelight, and the russet of her pelisse this morning enhanced her complexion.”

  Miss Bingley wrinkled her nose at her brother’s remarks. “Charles, I never knew you were so aware of women’s fashion. Mr Darcy, I am sure you noticed the mud on her petticoat, and I am inclined to think you would not wish to see your sister or your daughter make such an exhibition.”

  Mrs Hurst reinforced her sister’s disapproval. “Yes, she displayed a lack of concern for appearance to walk three or four miles in mud, and quite alone! To me, she seems to show a most conceited indifference to decorum.”

  “It shows affection for her sister that is very pleasing,” said Bingley.

  Mr Darcy silently agreed with Charles. Miss Elizabeth definitely looked remarkably well in her clothes, and they did seem to enhance her complexion—and her figure. He knew Miss Bingley wanted him to affirm her opinions, so he decided to answer her question in a diplomatic way. He was still re
morseful for allowing her to goad him into saying she was less than tolerable the night of the assembly.

  “I did indeed notice, and I cannot imagine my sister walking about and ending up with her petticoat six inches deep in mud. However, my daughter is another matter. She might grow out of her inclinations, but right now it is all I can do to keep her out of trees. Both Georgiana and Bethany are very fond of their brothers, and I know they would both go to great lengths to help if either Lew or I was ill. The difference is that Georgiana would take a carriage, and Bethany would definitely walk through mud if she thought it would bring her to her brother more quickly.”

  Miss Bingley was not going to let the topic drop despite what Darcy said. She continued the discussion, saying, “Jane Bennet is a sweet girl, and I wish her well settled—but with such a father and mother and such low connections… I am afraid there is no chance of it.”

  Miss Bingley barely attempted to disguise her efforts to persuade Charles that Jane Bennet was not good enough for him by raising her uncle who was an attorney in Meryton and another in trade who lived in Cheapside. Darcy also felt concern for Bingley, but not because Miss Bennet was beneath him. Her father was a gentleman, and thus a good connection for Bingley. The only difference between Bingley and Mr Gardiner was a generation. Darcy was convinced from his dealings with their uncle that he would soon amass a fortune comparable to that of Bingley’s father. Darcy’s fear was that they were a family of fortune hunters who would ensnare Charles, and he would have to endure a loveless marriage.

  His conscience was pricked with the knowledge he had settled for such a marriage that had not turned out so badly. Suddenly, he wished he was at Pemberley with those he loved—Bethany, Lewis and Georgiana. But, the niggling doubt that he had missed something important when he settled for a marriage of convenience replaced his thoughts for those near and dear to him. At twenty-eight, despite the two children that were the result, he sometimes wondered whether he should have dispensed with the odious task of finding deep attachment and joy. He was beginning to believe that love could be, without warning, there in front of you, shining in the candlelight. The truth was you just had to be willing to look.