Elizabeth, Darcy, and Me: A Pride and Prejudice Variation (Elizabeth and Her Sisters Book 1)

by Georgina Young-Ellis

  When the visitor arrived, the stir of anticipation he had excited wound down rather quickly. I had been quite impressed with the letter he had written, feeling as though it was well composed, and thoughtfully executed, but as a figure of a man, he is none too impressive. He’s large in stature and girth, and though young, has the demeanor of a much older man. He grunts when sitting down, and huffs when rising. His black hair, which is lank and badly barbered, is already sporting some white strands. His top teeth jut out rather far over the lower, his eyes bulge a bit, and he has a habit of smacking his lips as though everything around him presents a delicious treat for the taking. Though I am not one to judge a person by their physical appearance, he presents a rather disconcerting package as a whole.

  Elizabeth and Father seemed to be amused by him, that is until Mr. Collins got wind that Jane is likely to be betrothed to Mr. Bingley (a supposition made by Mother that has no basis in the truth as of yet), and started paying particular attention to our Lizzy. She was not amused.

  She, Kitty, and Lydia did come home chatting excitedly about the regiment of soldiers that have returned to Meryton, and with them, a very handsome and charming Mr. Wickham. Mr. Collins had accompanied them, including Jane, into town, where apparently they also ran into Mr. Bingley and Mr. Darcy, who had been on their way to Longbourn to see about Jane’s health.

  We were invited to my aunt and uncle Phillips’s house in Meryton that same evening, just us girls, and Mr. Wickham and some of his regiment were there. Lydia tried to dominate Mr. Wickham, but he seemed to prefer the company of Elizabeth, and while the others, including Lydia, finally, gathered across the room to play Whist, I arranged myself with the book I had brought, just close enough to be within hearing distance of Elizabeth and Mr. Wickham’s conversation. They were speaking of Mr. Darcy. I kept my eyes glued to my book so they would not think I was listening, and this is what I gathered:

  Mr. Wickham said that Mr. Darcy’s father had promised the senior Mr. Wickham, who was the legal advisor and superintendent of the Darcy family estate, Pemberley, to provide his son with a living as a clergyman after his death, a promise that Mr. Darcy was to honor after his own father was deceased, but which he did not make good upon. As a matter of fact, Mr. Wickham was the elder Mr. Darcy’s godson, and much beloved by the man, so it was quite shocking that Mr. Darcy denied Mr. Wickham the church living that he was supposed to have had, leaving him to fend for himself, and make a living in the military. I, like Lizzy, am now more inclined than ever to loathe Mr. Darcy. What a dreadful man!

  Mr. Wickham also shared that Mr. Darcy is nephew to Lady Catherine de Bourgh, patroness of our Mr. Collins, and that her daughter is meant to marry Mr. Darcy. Mr. Wickham made her sound pitiful and sickly, while Mr. Collins praises her as amongst the most beautiful and accomplished young women of his acquaintance so I do not know what to think of that.

  All in all, it was an evening most pleasantly spent, and I came away feeling as though Mr. Wickham is a most agreeable man, with whom I hope our family can become better acquainted.

  The following day, there was a great excitement at home. Mr. Bingley himself, and his two sisters, came to deliver an invitation to us for a ball at Netherfield. Once they had left, and the other females of my family had exclaimed their joy, I thought it propitious to temper the overall elated atmosphere with a more sober observation, and thus remarked, “While I can have my mornings to myself, it is enough. I think it no sacrifice to join occasionally in evening engagements. Society has claims on us all and I profess myself one of those who consider intervals of recreation and amusement as desirable for everybody.” Secretly though, I was excited to have an opportunity to perform some new musical pieces at the ball that I have been working on.

  In the days that followed, I never saw such happiness amongst my sisters, and my mother too. If my sisters were in a panic about their clothes for the dance at Meryton, it does not compare with how they fussed about over this occasion. We will each wear our very finest gowns, kept aside for the most special occasions. Mine is a simple gown of white muslin without much frippery about it, simply a pale blue ribbon under the bust which ties in the back, and a layer of lace trim around the bottom of the sleeves and the hem. I fancy that I look well in it, though I hope, in admitting as such, I do not become a victim to vanity.

  Mr. Collins seemed to watch the preparations with much interest, always keeping his eyes on Lizzy, which I could tell she found most exasperating. Each evening, in the interim of the approaching ball, Mr. Collins read aloud to us, as seems is his favored habit, pleasing me with his choice of Fordyce’s Sermons, a book that should be the guide of every young woman of a moral bent, yet whom no one but me cares about listening to. Even he seemed to be distracted, casting furtive glances at Lizzy whenever possibleglances she quite pointedly ignored.

  Finally, the day of the ball arrived. This was my chance to see Netherfield from the inside, and an impressive place it is. The floors are of marble, chandeliers hang from the ceilings. The furniture is of the latest fashion: everything so delicate and fine. The ceilings soar above our heads and the walls are painted with beautiful murals of cherubs and angels. It is a bit too elaborate for my tastes, but it is a testament to the wealth of its owner, and its current tenant.

  Everyone in the county seemed to be there. The place virtually overflowed with elegant guests. Sadly for all of us who delight in the company of Mr. Wickham, he was not there among the red coats of the regiment. I could see the disappointment on Lizzy’s face in particular. Mr. Bingley, however, swept Jane up in the first dance and barely let her go the entire night. Mr. Collins tried to dominate Lizzy, but she demurred after just one dance. I was surprised to see her approached by Mr. Darcy eventually, and even more surprised to see her accept him for a dance. He is an admirable dancer, I must say, but his face was so serious the whole time, he did not seem to enjoy himself much. Less so Lizzy.

  Kitty and Lydia were in heaven, dancing with the officers. I danced once with Mr. Collins, though neither of us are very good at it. I did not dance again, as I wanted to save my breath for my performance. At last there was a break in the dancing, and I knew this was my moment. I approached the beautiful pianoforte, bolstered by my success at Lucas Lodge, and sat myself at it, looking around for encouragement. Lizzy cast me a most baleful glare, which I took to mean as annoyance for not having gotten to the instrument first herself. Father was waving at me, obviously, I thought, to cheer me on. I flatter myself as having a tolerable singing voiceperhaps not the best among our acquaintances, but certainly good enough to please most audiences.

  I began with an aria from an opera by Mozart. Oh, how my hands flew over the keys, how my voice soared! I closed my eyes, carried away with the music. When I finished there was a hearty applause and so I began another piece: a country song which was sure to please. At the close of it, I looked up to see that intolerable Mr. Darcy looking at me with an expression of what I could only take for displeasure of some kind. Perhaps something he had eaten had disagreed with him. Caroline Bingley stood nearby with a smirk on her face. Well, I would show them. I brought my hands to the keyboard to begin another tune when Father approached me abruptly.

  “That will do, child,” he said to me in a low voice. “You have delighted us long enough. Let the other young ladies have time to exhibit.”

  “No Father,” I said, “I have one more to perform.” I was determined to show the range of my abilities.

  “Do not contradict me, my dear,” he whispered. “That is enough.” His voice was harsh. I could feel my face growing hot. I rose from the piano and hurriedly walked away.

  I could hear Mr. Collins speaking as I made for the nearest door, “If I were so fortunate as to be able to sing, I should have great pleasure, I am sure, in obliging the company with an air…”

  I did not hear what else he said as I found an exit and strode out across the great lawn, trying to cool the fire in my cheeks. I had never felt so humiliated in
my life. Was my performance not good? Why would father speak to me in such a way? I had thought he was proud of my accomplishments.

  Suddenly, I heard my named called and turned to look. Christopher Jones approached me from across the lawn.

  “What are you doing here?” I inquired in a manner that must have been taken for rudeness. Then I remembered, he worked for Mr. Bingley at Netherfield.

  He ignored my tone. “I have been out here enjoying the beauty of the evening and the music that reaches me on the breeze.” He seemed light-hearted.

  “Oh, then you must have heard me sing just now. Apparently, it was most displeasing to my audience.”

  “That was you singing? You are very hard upon yourself. It was loveliness itself.”

  “You are very kind, but I was as much as assured it was not.”

  “By whom?”

  “By my father.”

  “He must not appreciate good music.”

  “And you do?” I shot, turning to face him.

  “I…I do not understand it, but I know what pleases me.”

  “I am sorry,” I returned, tears smarting in my eyes. “I do not know why I spoke like that just now. It was not how I was raised to behave.”

  “Your feelings have been injured.”

  “Yes. But it’s my own fault. I have been arrogant. I should not have put myself forward as I did.”

  “You merely wanted to share your gift with others.”

  “It is not a gift that was wanted.”

  “I’m sure if I could play an instrument, or sing, I would want to share my joy in it with whomever would listen.”

  This made me smile. “Maybe I should be more modest in the future.”

  “Do not trouble yourself so, Miss Bennet. I’m sure many were pleased by your performance.”

  “Thank you for saying so.” I shivered.

  “You should not tarry out of doors. It is warm inside, and by contrast, chilly out here.” Without asking me, he removed his coat and placed it over my shoulders.

  “No, I couldn’t,” I said, going to remove it. Yet it was so warm, and smelled of wood smoke.

  “Please.” He placed a hand on my shoulder to keep it in place. I felt I should object to such familiarity, yet the gesture was meant so kindly, I could not.

  We heard the sound of voices in the distance, the rumble of carriage wheels on gravel and the jingle of bridles.

  “I think the party is ending. I must get back to the stables. Though there are extra hands tonight to attend to the horses, I shall be wanted. Let me walk you around to the front.”

  We began to move to the front of the house. The bright moonlight sparkled on a nearby pond, and a million stars spread across the black sky like diamonds on velvet.

  “I like talking to you,” he said, bringing my attention to his face. His dark eyes were gentle, framed by long lashes. His teeth gleamed as his lips parted into a warm smile.

  “Thank you,” I said quietly. I wanted to tell him I liked talking to him too, but the words wouldn’t come out of my mouth.

  We walked on in silence. Suddenly I heard the shrill voice of my mother. “Mary!” she called. “Mary, where are you? We are leaving.”

  I quickly shrugged Christopher’s coat off my shoulders and ran toward her voice. “Thank you again,” I called to him. “You have lifted my spirits.”

  “I am happy that I could!” he called back.

  As I reached our carriage and climbed in, squeezing in among my family members, my mother admonishing me for running off as I did, I saw Christopher waving to me. “Good bye, Miss Bennet,” he yelled.

  As I went to wave back, my mother grabbed my hand. “Mary! How you are behaving tonight! Do not acknowledge that impudent servant! I never!”

  And with that the carriage rolled on, my emotions roiling between happiness and misery. Jane squeezed my hand, and Lizzy regarded me curiously, with a raise of her eyebrows.

  Today, Mr. Collins made a proposal of marriage to Elizabeth. I’ve never heard of so short, or unromantic a courtship in my life! There was such a scene in the hallway, where Mother awaited the good news of Lizzy’s acceptance, only to find she had rejected him. Mother burst into tears, calling Lizzy ungrateful, while Father defended her decision. Mother is sure we will be cast out into the cold the minute father is deceased (though we have no reason to think it will be soonFather is a youngish man and in excellent health). With Father on her side, Lizzy stood firm. Mr. Collins, embarrassed and dejected, quit the house in a hurry, and Lizzy stormed away.

  If I had been Lizzy, I would have done my duty to my family. I do not like the idea of marrying Mr. Collins, but if I had been applied to, I would have said yes. Sometimes we must do that which we dislike, in order to achieve the greater good. Lizzy has no other prospects, and is dangerously close to becoming an old maid. Perhaps she was thinking of Mr. Wickham when she refused Mr. Collins’s proposal. I don’t know. All I know is that it is a daughter’s duty to obey her parents (I suppose, in this case, her mother at least) and do what is right. I do not envy Lizzy Mother’s wrath.

  Chapter 7

  I admit it. I planned an excursion today, during a bit of free time, to the village of Longbourn. After my exchange with Mary Bennet last night, I was hoping I would find her in her bower. Since the rain from this morning has abated, she just might be likely to wander forth. But she was not there. I had dared to come within sight of the house when I was surprised to see a gentleman marching toward me with a sour expression upon his face, seemingly in a hurry somewhere, but not really looking where he was going. He had a pair of spectacles in his hand and was cleaning them with a handkerchief.

  “Good morning,” I said to him as he approached.

  “Good morning,” he replied automatically, not looking at me. He dropped his glasses in the dirt just then, and I bent to retrieve them.

  “Thank you, young man,” he said to me, though in truth, he was probably not many years older than I.

  “Were you visiting the Bennet family?” I could not help but inquire.

  He looked at me with wild eyes. “I am staying with them presently,” he replied. “Why? How are you concerned with them?”

  His question took me aback. “I’m not, exactly, concerned with them, but I am acquainted with one of the young ladies.”

  “You are?” He looked me up and down doubtfully.

  “Yes, in passing only,” I replied.

  “Which one?”

  “Mary,” I said simply.

  “Mary. She is the middle child?”

  “I’m really not sure.”

  “Yes, the quiet one. She seems like a sensible girl. Has quite the delightful singing voice.”

  “Yes! Exactly the one.”

  “Though I’ve been staying with the family this past week, I cannot say I have gotten to know her well. My attentions were diverted to her sister Elizabeth,” he said, bitterness filling his voice.

  “I fear something has passed that has displeased you.” I felt it was a forward thing to say, but he seemed to want a listening ear.

  “It is too embarrassing to relate. Let us just say she is a proud girl, and considers herself better than most.”

  I had a feeling that his embarrassment had something to do with failed hopes in romance. “Sir, I am sorry to see you are suffering.”

  “I will mend, young man, I will mend. A broken heart is nothing compared with the suffering of the world at large.”

  A worthy philosophy. “And yet there are other fish in the sea,” I said, feeling stupid for saying it. However, he looked at me as though it were a great piece of brilliance he had never heard of before.

  “Yes. Other fish.” He stood still and gazed at his surroundings for a moment. “That girl Mary. She is the third of them, after Elizabeth. And the eldest, Jane, is likely to be betrothed elsewhere.”

  I didn’t like where his mind was going. And I wasn’t sure Mr. Bingley would like to hear this information about Jane.

 
“Mary,” he continued, “is not as beautiful as her elder sisters, but milder, more likely to be swayed by reason.”

  I suddenly picked up the train of his thought. “Mary? Swayed by reason? Oh sir, I am sure you are mistaken. She seems a most stubborn girl to me. Very willful. She has a very strong mind of her own.”

  “How do you know this about her? I thought you said you were only a passing acquaintance.”

  “Yes, true, but it is what I have observed. I am…Mr. Bingley’s groom, and as such, found myself in company with him when we met the girls upon the road one day. Her sisters wanted to go one way, she another. When they would not agree with her choice, she flew into a most frightful temper. Oh, sir, she is a shrew.”

  “A shrew?” He appeared almost frightened. “Oh no, that will not do at all.”

  I heard footsteps on the road behind us and turned around to see a woman approaching.

  “Miss Lucas!” Mr. Collins called out with recognition.

  “Oh, Mr. Collins, hello,” she said pleasantly. “Who is your friend?”

  “I do not know,” he said, more to me than her. “What is your name?”

  “Christopher Jones,” I said to them both, as she had now neared us.

  “He is Mr. Bingley’s groom,” Mr. Collins explained.

  “Oh, very nice to meet you,” she said. She had a friendly way about her, and smiled warmly. “Are you going somewhere, Mr. Collins?” she asked him.

  “Er, no. I was just out for a bit of fresh air. And you? Are you going to the Bennet home?”

  “Yes, I was coming to talk over the evening last night. It was most pleasant, was it not?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Perhaps dancing is not your favorite entertainment, Mr. Collins,” she said with a bit of gentle teasing in her voice.

  “No, I’m afraid it is not.”

  “I can see your mind is of a more serious bent,” she said to him. “That is an admirable thing.”