Contents
Title
Copyright
A note from the author
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
Unexpectedly Mrs. Darcy
Marianne Fournier
Copyright © 2017
Marianne Fournier
All rights reserved.
A note from the author:
I'm so glad you've come to join us. As we all know Jane Austen's Pride and Prejudice is a novel that transcends time. Even in the modern world, perhaps especially so in the modern world, Jane Austen's imagination provides us with a respite that we cannot otherwise obtain in our modern day society with it's deadlines and immediacy. Everything is hurried at a pace I think Jane Austen's characters would faint at, if thrown into the fray. We love to read Pride and Prejudice Variations to relive that first feeling of love. To enjoy a little propriety in a world where it seems to have all but vanished, a world where love is forever and gentlemen exist in perpetuity.
Everyone loves to fall into the abyss of Elizabeth and Darcy's love story, to relive the angst even though we know the ending. But sometimes we simply don't have the luxury of Regency times, where an entire afternoons activities can be summed up in a single sentence.
"What did you do today?"
"Oh, I spent the day reading a book," said no modern woman... ever. As lovely as it is to sneak in Darcy and Elizabeth chapter by chapter until the book is done, sometimes you just want a quick fix, something you can read in one sitting... one short sitting. That magical time in between bedtime and unconsciousness. In the days before kids and husbands and full time jobs and school lunches, you could keep your eyes open with toothpicks and stay up till all hours, stumbling like a zombie through the next day, half asleep and unable to identify the reality of your world vs. the world you spent the entire night in. For many of us those days are on a temporary hiatus...
It is with this notion that I wrote this short story. As with any variation I have made changes to the original storyline, however in the interest of length I have asked the reader to make certain assumptions. Anything in the original canon that is not specifically noted as different in this variation, should be assumed as true to the canon. I do so hope you enjoy this little quick shot of Darcy and Elizabeth, I know I dearly enjoyed re-imagining their story with a few new what if's.
Happy Reading,
Marianne
CHAPTER ONE
Fitzwilliam Darcy frowned as his friend Charles Bingley stretched his arm onto the back of the settee and crossed his legs.
"By George, Darcy, if I didn't know you better I would think that you were in love with her." Charles Bingley's eyes brightened at the idea of them both having found a match.
"Don't be absurd Bingley, an admiration for someone's eyes in no way characterizes me as being in love."
"I should say it's a good deal more than that Darcy," Bingley added with a chuckle.
Charles Bingley didn't intend on teasing his friend, in fact, the possibility that Darcy might share an admiration for one of the sisters was the most thrilling realization Charles Bingley had stumbled upon since he'd come to his own infatuation with Jane, the older sister.
Charles Bingley admired his most cherished friend in all of his perfection, and even his imperfections, but most of all he wanted for Fitzwilliam Darcy to be able to experience some of the lighthearted joy that he so very rarely allowed himself.
While Bingley managed to traipse through life appearing to the naked eye as carefree as a butterfly, Fitzwilliam Darcy seemed to carry the weight of the world upon his shoulders.
There was a time, a very brief time albeit, that Charles hoped for a union between his sister Caroline and his cherished friend. Alas, that was not to be, as, much to his chagrin, Charles's sister Caroline was a rather disagreeable woman of no real substance. She was in fact, whether Charles was willing to admit it or not, rather a dislikable woman.
Charles loved her of course as all brothers love their sisters, whether they are worthy of such love or not. He did not though, particularly admire Caroline Bingley, and as such realized that in desiring for the welfare of his friend Fitzwilliam Darcy, encouraging a match between the two would actually be unkind. He could not, however, seem to stop his sister from pursuing the matter, try as he might, she seemed convinced that time was the only necessary requirement to win Mr. Darcy's affection. Time and proximity that is, and the latter was a scenario that Charles Bingley had a modicum of control over. Caroline had recently been invited to spend time with their other sister, Mrs. Hurst at their estate, and although the invitation extended to Charles as well, he had declined, claiming he had business in London, a tactic he'd seen Mr. Darcy use for his own benefit several times.
"We must take our leave from Netherfield in the morning," Mr. Darcy spewed, interrupting Charles' ruminations.
"What on Earth for," Charles asked. "We've only recently arrived, and there are the sisters to woo."
"There are circumstances that require us to depart sooner rather than later," Mr. Darcy exclaimed, as though that were explanation enough.
Charles Bingley could see that Mr. Darcy had made up his mind, and as such knew that there was no point in trying to convince him otherwise. Had he possibly determined that Charles had been false in his explanation of Caroline's departure? Did he realize Charles was himself interfering with his sister's attempts at manipulations? Certainly, if he had he wouldn't be cross with him. These thoughts were fleeting though and, as was his nature Charles agreed without much argument and preparations were made for their early departure.
Charles wasn't too entirely concerned with leaving behind Miss Jane Bennet, though, as his friend's behavior toward her sister Elizabeth allayed any doubts that they would soon be reunited.
Charles had never seen his friend so destitute of control. To all outward appearances, Mr. Darcy appeared ill tempered, both to the assembly at Meryton, and in their subsequent interactions with the family. Charles though, could see a marked difference in his friend's behavior that seemed entirely to revolve around one woman. This change that looked to him, to be an uneasiness rather than a feeling of superiority, as those recently acquainted with him had assumed. Charles had never seen his friend uneasy about anything, and thus, he'd deduced that Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, a modicum of self-restraint and proper attitudes had found his footing unsure upon his proximity to a one Miss Elizabeth.
Charles wasn't fool enough to push the matter any further than a gentle teasing, especially after testing the waters and seeing the physical restraint his friend employed in denying his admiration, correction, attraction to Elizabeth . As soon as the occasion presented itself, Charles would find a way to reunite the four of them, of that he was certain. Knowing full well the limits of his friend's patience, Charles decided it best to leave the subject of Miss Elizabeth to a future discussion, lest he elicit a response that put distance between himself and his dear friend.
Thus it was on the 28th of November, with a full heart and a lightness of step, that Charles Bingley quit Netherfield, having no intention of staying away for more than a fortnight.
CHAPTER TWO
For four long months, Fitzwilliam Darcy tried to no avail to force the constant companion of Miss Elizabeth Bennet's sparkling eyes from his mind's eye. It was of no use. She had bewitched him, this much was certain. His mind could not accept the reality that his guarded heart had greedily devoured
.
He read the note requesting his presence at his Aunt's estate at Rosings, several times in fact, with keen notice to the mention of the visitor to the parsonage. Elizabeth Bennet was at Rosings, and his Aunt requested his presence. An internal war waged inside him, his heart saddling his horse while his head weighed his options.
Certainly denying his Aunt's request would cause him a great deal of duress the next time he had occasion to visit, this was not, however, a strong deterrent from sending his regrets. The list of potential grievances that his Aunt could foist upon him at any given time was long and generally without foundation.
The war waged on though, his heart reminding him of the utter exhaustion that his Aunt's disappointment could bring. Much easier to simply accept the invitation at once and save himself the fuss.
But she would be there, and he'd only just begun to feel the strength of his convictions gaining a permanent foothold. They were but saplings whose roots could be pulled out of the ground with a gentle swell.
"Come let's away to Rosings," Colonel Fitzwilliam said, entering the drawing room without being announced as was his custom. "I hear tales of intelligent women afoot."
Colonel Fitzwilliam, Mr. Darcy's cousin, stood tapping his index finger on the desk blotter in unison with his foot.
Mr. Darcy, accustomed to his cousin's familiar manner in his home found himself with a boil of anger in his chest, as though his cousin had voiced an entirely different sentiment.
"She has nothing to recommend her." Mr. Darcy was quite surprised by the venom with which he responded to his favorite cousin. Certainly, his heart had no such surprise though, as his mind still felt very certain that it was entirely in control of Mr. Darcy's person.
"Is that so? How unfortunate," he said, with a smirk that suggested he'd become privy to Mr. Darcy's innermost thoughts.
Alas, it was with a certain amount of mental gymnastics that Mr. Darcy allowed himself to be persuaded that having Lady Catherine cross with him was a burden he didn't want to bear, and more to the point, he didn't want to inflict her ire on his cousin, as he had been included in the invitation as well.
Thus it was on the 23 of March, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy arrived at Rosings. Mr. Darcy spent the entirety of the journey suffering the noisy chatter of his inner war, struggling in vain to maintain his calm. Miss Elizabeth Bennet had cast some spell upon him, and his proximity to her threatened to make him utterly mad. He spent the better part of the night trying to convince himself that indeed he hadn't gone mad. Reminding himself with clock like regularity that indeed she had no interest in him even as an acquaintance, let alone as a husband, the veracity of which his heart refused to believe.
What kind of God would charge him with such an undesirable depth of feeling if it were never to be returned? He couldn't and wouldn't accept that such an unfairness could occur, and as such the following morning, after too little sleep and far too many mental ministrations, he pounced at the opportunity to return to the parsonage with Mr. Collins, to call on Mrs. Collins and her friend Ms. Elizabeth Bennet.
CHAPTER THREE
Elizabeth Bennet sat in the parlor of her childhood friend Charlotte, now Mrs. Collins, in a slightly agitated conversation concerning Elizabeth's blind eye, a phrasing that Charlotte insisted on using much to the chagrin of her dear friend.
Try as she might Elizabeth could not stop ruminating on a previous conversation with her favorite Aunt, Mrs. Gardiner. Something in their conversation had stuck an invisible thorn in Elizabeth's rigid certainty about the amiable Mr. Wickham. Charlotte agreed whole heartedly with her dear friend's aunt, that Mr. Wickham was mercenary for pursuing a Miss King. Elizabeth found the whole discussion entirely irritating as it brought her inevitably to consideration of Mr. Wickham's childhood friend, the most disagreeable Mr. Darcy.
Mr. Darcy, she believed, was entirely to blame for Mr. Wickham's financial woes, creating the scenario by which he now pursued Miss King.
Poor Mr. Wickham, she thought to herself, but instead of envisioning Mr. Wickham, her mind's eye was settled on Mr. Darcy. A fact that brought her much consternation. A reality that had plagued her even before Mr. Darcy's arrival at Rosings last week.
Mr. Wickham, she tried again, intending to feel the loss of a potential suitor, as they had been entirely well matched, save Mr. Wickham's unfortunate disinheritance by Mr. Darcy. It was of no use though, she thought to herself, the reality was that he vanished from her thoughts the moment she left his presence, but the venomous Mr. Darcy, he had taken up a permanent residence in her brain.
The fact that Mr. Darcy, a man whom she'd convinced herself she cared nothing about, rarely left her thoughts, wasn't lost on her. She'd attempted to convince herself with a modicum of success, that someone such as Mr. Darcy provoked such strong feeling in her because he was so distasteful. The small thrill that ran down her spine every time he looked at her, she attributed to a lack of intellectual equals in her small circle of the world. She simply enjoyed having an intelligent conversation, was that not thrilling? Certainly, the enjoyment of an excellent conversation didn't equal an attraction. Even if that were the case, Elizabeth assured herself, Mr. Darcy did not share her affliction.
"Perhaps you ascribe more merit to Mr. Wickham than he deserves," Charlotte suggested, knowing full well she was treading on quicksand. "Your Aunt has a point in suggesting he is mercenary. After all, isn't your opinion of Mr. Wickham a direct result of your ideas about Mr. Darcy?"
Elizabeth stared at her friend, attempting to formulate an answer. She had never allowed herself to consider that her good opinion of Mr. Wickham, indeed rested on her poor opinion of Mr. Darcy. For once she was speechless. Charlotte had inadvertently pulled the invisible thorn from her side and shown it to her.
Still, she held steadfast to her belief, her opinion of Mr. Darcy was rooted in fact.
There she had her answer.
"My opinion of Mr. Darcy is rooted in fact," she said. A statement that perhaps sounded better in her head.
Charlotte pressed on, "Is it possible that you've made up your mind about Mr. Darcy without consideration for his predicament?"
Elizabeth laughed at the notion, "Predicament? What on earth are you getting at?"
"Well, certainly it can't be easy to be in control of such a great fortune."
"Yes, I can only imagine the duress."
"What I mean is that one can never be truly sure of anyone's motives in their interaction with you. Especially eligible women at a ball," Charlotte suggested.
"And you think that justifies his behavior?" Elizabeth was appalled.
Charlotte smiled, "Certainly I am not suggesting that it justifies his behavior. I am merely suggesting an alternative explanation. Perhaps he is not so much prideful as guarded and shy."
"Shy," Elizabeth, blurted out, thinking how ridiculous that seemed.
"Mayhap, awkward is a better term." Charlotte corrected. "I think his behavior has more to do with an attraction than a feeling of superiority."
Elizabeth realized she'd been pacing the floor and stopped, sitting awkwardly in the nearest chair.
Attraction, she thought, allowing her mind just a tiny moment to consider it. No, that was ridiculous, and precisely why her continual consideration of him vexed her beyond measure.
Elizabeth immediately began to lay out all the reasons why indeed, Charlotte was undeniably wrong in any and all of her assumptions and suggestions. Poor Charlotte hadn't the slightest idea the pit of vipers she was stirring when she suggested that Mr. Darcy's attentions were romantic.
Fortunately for their friendship, Charlotte had the disposition to maintain a firm grasp on the truth even in the face of so many arguments. Even Charlotte's patience was tested though, when Elizabeth, having so lost her decorum blurted out in a fit of unseemly selfishness, "and what do you know of love anyway Mrs. Collins?"
Elizabeth was mortified, as was Mrs. Collins, but Elizabeth had a wonderful friend in Charlotte. Rather than exiting t
he parlor in anger, as anyone else would have done, Charlotte merely sat, calmly, a pleasant countenance on her face, and pointed out that it was precisely because of her practicality in these matters that she was able to see things that Elizabeth, so full of emotions, could not. That most certainly didn't sit well with Elizabeth, to the point where she excused herself and went for a walk. Muttering to herself like an insane person all the while.
Elizabeth was thankful she hadn't mentioned her conversation from last evening with Colonel Fitzwilliam, concerning Mr. Bingley's affections for her sister Jane.
Colonel Fitzwilliam had confided that Mr. Darcy had intentionally separated the two lovers in the opinion that it was not a suitable match, stating that he believed the elder Miss Bennet held no true affection for his friend.
It was all too overwhelming. How could he do such a thing? And why did she want so much to know that his reasons were understandable? It was true that Jane didn't display her emotions, but what kind of woman did? What sort of opposing expectations were to be had of a woman. Don't be too overly affectionate lest you be marked as compromising yourself, but don't be too reserved or your affections won't be understood.
Try as she might she couldn't help but remember Charlotte's suggestion that Jane should have been more apparent in her admiration of Mr. Bingley. Had she passed on the suggestion to Jane she might now be preparing for Jane's wedding instead of traipsing through the grounds of Hunsford in an angry huff.
The thought brought her a smile for a moment only until she realized that it was the guest list that calmed her nerves. Of course, his dearest friend Mr. Darcy would be in attendance. There he was again, he permeated her every thought.
Why on earth Charlotte would even for a moment entertain the idea that Mr. Darcy held Elizabeth in anything other than contempt was beyond her scope of imagination. The gentleman had made it very clear that he had considered her and found her wanting. She was not accomplished, nor was she wealthy. All in all, she had absolutely nothing to recommend her.
Unexpectedly Mrs Darcy Page 1
