Consequence of Jealousy: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Aubrey Anderson

  A few moments passed, and Elizabeth had begun to relax, as she listened to her sister play, when Mr. Darcy stood and walked over to her.

  “Miss Elizabeth?”

  His voice was suddenly near her, and Elizabeth’s shoulder jumped lightly in response. She turned her attention to him.

  “Yes Mr. Darcy?” she asked, hoping that her tone gave away none of her concern.

  “I was hoping that we might be able to take a walk together, in the nearby park, if your Aunt would consent?” he turned to her aunt, as the last part of his question pertained to her.

  To Elizabeth’s dismay, although she was not surprised, her aunt agreed.

  Unlike the backwoods of her own home, the relative openness of the park meant that Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy would be able to walk there, alone. “Allow me to get a shawl, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth murmured briefly, as she stood to leave the room. Had he wished her out of the house to scold her without the presence of her relatives?

  ***

  Elizabeth took Mr. Darcy’s arm, as she had before on their previous walk, and they began their walk in silence. She was unwilling to speak at this moment, as she did not know what would come out of her mouth. Ever since this entire affair had begun, her emotions and relative temperament had gone through a variety of changes. She had felt shame and embarrassment. Despair. Anger. Hope. Something akin to contentment. Shock. Anger. And then fear. It was what she felt now. After their engagement, she had pronounced her initial judgement of Mr. Darcy as utterly wrong. But then that too had changed. For now, she would leave it well enough alone, and would take what had come before her, one piece at a time.

  “Miss Elizabeth?” Mr. Darcy finally spoke.

  “I am here, Mr. Darcy.” was her reply. She did not know how to address him, now that they were alone. Nervously, she played with the gold bracelet he had gifted her, hidden under the long sleeve of her gown.

  Mr. Darcy had turned his head to face her as they spoke, and at his silence she finally forced herself to look at him. He was studying her wrist intently. Embarrassed, she hid both her wrists behind her. His gaze had been indecipherable.

  “I have done a lot of thinking since our last meeting, as well as the meetings I had with your father.” he confessed. Before she could question him on the apparent multiple meetings with her papa, as she had only been aware of one, he continued, “And my initial response is to apologise. That is what I have come here to do, and it is why I had avoided meeting with you before I had fully considered our situation.” He stopped walking, pausing briefly to look at her. “I apologise, Miss Elizabeth, for not only causing you distress, but also believing that my actions were right and just. I demanded from you what no man should demand from a lady, and for that I am sorry.”

  Elizabeth swallowed deeply, feeling the walls that she had put up against him, weaken, despite the fact that her mind was shouting to leave it alone. She had changed her feelings too often, in too short a time, and it was too much.

  At her silence, Mr. Darcy had become worried. “Are you well, Miss Elizabeth?”

  “I am well, Mr. Darcy.” was Elizabeth’s reply, although she despised how her voice hitched slightly as she said his name. “It is--it is simply a lot to take in right now. I have changed my mind about your character almost too many times to count.”

  “I am in full understanding. I do not want to cause you anymore distress, so if you would prefer that I do not call on you for a period of time, or travel separately when we return to Meryton, I will do as you wish.” was his obliging reply.

  “What did my father say to you?” Elizabeth breathed out the question in a hurry, as though all of the oxygen had been sucked from her very being. She was confused, and felt hysteric.

  She wanted to be alone.

  She wanted Jane.

  She wanted Mary.

  She wanted Kitty.

  She wanted Lydia.

  She wanted her mama.

  She wanted her papa.

  She wanted her family.

  “He forced me to consider our situation from another perspective.” At his reply, Elizabeth studied him intently, wondering to whose perspective he was considering. “We spoke of Mr. Collins and of my aunt’s decision to grant him a living. I had judged on the basis of a few embarrassing relations, while I had my own to contend with.”

  Despite her feelings, Elizabeth could not smother her laugh, for that was just like her father to turn a situation back onto him. Mr. Darcy smiled at her laugh, and in that instant he looked different.

  Less stern.

  Her grasp on his arm tightened minutely.

  “The conversations I had with your father,” Mr. Darcy began hesitantly, “he reminded me of my own father, and how my father tried to instill good principles within me. My father,” he stated, pausing to glance back at Elizabeth, “was one of the best men I ever knew. He looked at no man and judged, for he knew what it was like to be judged. Above all, he taught me to always be fair and principled in my dealings with anyone I interacted with, especially in business dealings. And in that manner, I have. But to my shame, I believed myself to be better the likes of Mr. Wickham,” here, Elizabeth noted, that he practically spat the name out, which was the most visceral reaction she had ever seen from him, “as I was not a conman or a seducer. But there are different manners of men, of good and bad men. I am only ashamed it took me so long to see it.”

  “I accept your apology, Mr. Darcy, and hope that we shall be able to start anew.” was Elizabeth’s reply. What else should she say? That she hated him with all her being, and would prefer to spend the rest of their time together in utter misery, wishing he would die soon?

  She would not.

  Charlotte would be proud of her, she thought almost sadly to herself.

  “As do I, Miss Elizabeth.” was his reply, and yet there was more. “I have another confession, Miss Elizabeth.” At her questioning glance, he gave a heavy sigh, as though he did not wish to reveal his next words at all. “At our last meeting, I had several expectations placed upon you, before we had even truly spoken to each other about the engagement, or the circumstances behind the engagement. And that was because I had constructed a fantasy about how our life would play out, based on the fact that I was,” here he paused, and then hastily amended, “am in love with you.”

  Elizabeth abruptly paused in her walking, although not wishing to give the other couples something to gossip about to her aunt and other neighbours later, continued her normal stride, her heart racing.

  Mr. Darcy was in love with her?

  Her mama would rejoice and call for six kinds of fish sauce, if Elizabeth had made her privy to that little tidbit.

  Mr. Darcy continued his speech, although Elizabeth could tell that it was difficult for him. She hoped her response to his declaration had not wounded him as much as it seemed, for he felt very uncomfortable within her presence. “That is why I was able to accept the fact that we had to be engaged so quickly. It is also why Miss Bingley was quite sharp with you, while at Netherfield. She had teased me a few times about my admiration for you.” his speech trailed off, not wishing to refer to her slur against his betrothed’s sisters.

  A few moments passed.

  “I do not tell you this, because I expect anything from you, Miss Elizabeth.” he stated, almost earnestly.

  “I understand, Mr. Darcy.” was her reply, but she knew she could not reply any other way.

  “I tell you this, because we are at the start of a journey, in which we must begin to be completely honest with one another. Elsewise, we may as well marry and never reside in the same residence again. I do not wish for that.”

  This time she looked at him fully, “Neither do I, Mr. Darcy.”

  At her voice, Mr. Darcy’s indecipherable gaze transformed into one of immense sadness. For an instant, she felt as though she were looking through his eyes. She beheld a woman who had agreed with her betrothed because she had to.

  Before she comprehended what she
was doing, Elizabeth briefly reached her gloved hand within his own, and entwined their fingers together. Mr. Darcy was hesitant, but he did not pull away. Not until their walk had finished, and they had reached the door of her aunt’s home.

  Soon thereafter, Mr. Darcy and his party departed, with Mr. Darcy informing Elizabeth that his aunt and sister would call tomorrow to visit the modiste. Elizabeth, Jane, Mary, and her aunt had already visited several warehouses to choose fabric for Elizabeth’s wedding dress and a new dress for Mary, so all that was left was to visit a modiste. The Countess of Matlock would be helpful in that endeavour.

  “How was your walk, Lizzie?” her aunt questioned as soon as they were alone.

  Elizabeth thought on it for a few minutes, before replying, “Honest.”

  She did not wish to speak about it in any depth, not right now. She did not know what to say, what she should say. Perhaps later she would confide in Jane, but for now--she could not.

  Her palm, the one she had slid into Mr. Darcy’s hand, itched lightly. She hid it behind her back.

  Chapter Sixteen

  “How are you not surprised?” Elizabeth glanced at her sister’s back, as she slipped her gown over her head. Waiting for Jane’s answer, she walked over to her, and began to latch the small pearl beads together. In preparation for the visit of Mr. Darcy’s aunt and his sister, Jane had put on her best dress, a pale pink gown with small, imperfect pearls that lined her spine. Of course, Jane was so beautiful that she did not need intricate designs to complete her gown, and so the dress had no other adornment or embroidery. Elizabeth wore a pale yellow gown that had been intended for Jane, until they had seen how the colour washed her out. It had suited Elizabeth, with her slightly tanned skin tone, and so it had been gifted to her.

  Mary was also in the room, on the fringes, having gotten ready almost an hour ago. Her best dress had been a dark brown gown with a high collar, and that was what she had wished to wear, as she felt uncomfortable in anything else, but the evening before, her aunt had surprised her with another, entirely new dress. Apparently, before her mama had suggested it, her aunt had already been in the process of gifting her with another gown for her upcoming birthday, but had no wish to spoil the surprise. Why her aunt felt that she would prefer a new gown over a book, Mary had not the slightest idea. Her new gown was a dark green with dark brown accents at the collar and sleeves. She felt overdressed, especially in comparison to her sisters. The Countess of Matlock and Miss Georgiana Darcy were there to see Elizabeth, not Mary! It would hardly matter what she wore. But, as always, she deferred to her elder’s wishes.

  Jane shrugged, her attention focused on the mirror before her, as she checked to make sure she had not disturbed her hairstyle too much. Their aunt’s maid had a cousin who had been employed as a lady’s maid before she married a young lawyer. In an effort to make some extra money for the upcoming birth of their first child, Mrs. Miller had arrived early that morning, big-bellied and all, to style their hair. Jane did not know how much her aunt had paid Mrs. Miller, but it had been worth every shilling, and she was going to take extra care to make sure the style lasted for as long as it could.

  “Jane!” Elizabeth felt embarrassed at how close to a whine her voice had come, reminiscent of her two youngest sisters, but she could not help herself. She needed Jane’s attention.

  Jane turned to her.

  “I simply mean, Lizzie, that Mr. Darcy’s actions after the both of you argued make sense, in light of his declaration.”

  “How?” Elizabeth demanded.

  Jane shrugged again. “I do not know, Lizzie. It’s just that--.” she stopped, wishing to formulate her words in a way that would not cause her sister to be even more upset. “You have always believed that I am too apt to believe everyone to be of good character. But I can only base that upon my observations. And these are my observations, Lizzie. You and Mr. Darcy argued. Instead of visiting you again, and causing you, even more pain, he stayed away, and informed you of his plans. He gave you time. When he realised his behaviour was wrong, he set out to rectify it. Why else would he do so?”

  “That does not mean he truly loves me, Jane!” Elizabeth argued. “The man called me tolerable within moments of our first meeting! All other times, we were forced into each other’s company! We have never been in in the same room without a purpose. Yesterday was no different.” It had to be, for she could not take the knowing, the not knowing, the wondering anymore. Mr. Darcy would be her very proper, someone what rigid fiance, and then husband, and that was all there was to it.

  No matter what she wished. It would be a better marriage than her friend Charlotte’s, for at least she could respect the man, but that was all.

  Jane leant over and kissed her sister on the cheek sadly. “You are overthinking the matter, Lizzie. Relax. You will realize the truth soon.”

  Elizabeth opened her mouth to reply to Jane’s foolish reply, when there was a sharp knock at the door. Their maid, Anna, had come to inform them that Miss Darcy and the Countess of Matlock were with their aunt in the dining room.

  Mary thanked Anna, and asked her to inform their aunt and guests that they would be coming downstairs momentarily.

  “Be calm, Lizzie.” Jane whispered into her ear, as she took her arm.

  Elizabeth knew she would be, for she was a Bennet, and that would never be taken from her.

  ***

  When Elizabeth stepped into the dining room, where a repast of sandwiches, cheese, fruit, and tarts awaited her, she had resolved to be on her guard with Mr. Darcy’s aunt, especially under the circumstances. With her luck, it was entirely possible that Lady Adelaide had agreed to accompany her to warn her against dragging the Darcy family name through the mud, or attempting as her sister in law had, and bribing Elizabeth against marrying Mr. Darcy. However, for all her trepidation upon meeting a relative of Mr. Darcy’s, nevermind that she was a Countess and member of the aristocracy, within five minutes of meeting the woman, Elizabeth privately wondered how they could be related at all.

  Elizabeth had barely finished her curtsey, half-listening as her aunt introduced herself and her sisters to Lady Adelaide, when the lady herself had come forward and drawn Elizabeth into a tight hug. Elizabeth then watched in amazement as she did the same to Jane and Mary.

  “Your Ladyship,” she started, wishing to greet Mr. Darcy’s aunt in the most proper manner she could, “I am very gratified to meet you, and I hope that you had a pleasant journey on your way here.”

  Lady Adelaide, who was a slightly plump woman of about fifty, with pale blue eyes that crinkled in the corner and dark blonde hair that was secured by amethyst encrusted pins, regarded her kindly. “Oh, my dear Miss Elizabeth, you do not have to address me so formally! You are to be family soon, all of you! You must do as my niece and nephew do, and call me Aunt Addie. I would be glad,” the lady stated again, turning to address her aunt, “if you would call me Adelaide. It will encourage your nieces to not become so frightened of my presence!”

  Elizabeth watched in amazement as her aunt obliged, insisting that she do the same. Which Lady Adelaide was glad to do.

  “Shall we sit down to eat?” her aunt suggested, casting Elizabeth a merry smile as she watched her process the scene.

  “Yes, of course, aunt, let us eat. I am famished.” Elizabeth agreed, her appetite returning with a vengeance now that she was not quite so nervous about how she would be received by an adult member of her betrothed’s family. Earlier this morning, she could do little but choke down a piece of toast and a cup of tea, and had walked all through breakfast. She was starving.

  Her aunt had opted for the same fare that they ate daily, and Elizabeth was glad that she had not attempted to go overboard and impress the lady. Her initial thoughts had been that it would be futile, as her thoughts on Elizabeth were not apt to change because she had been impressed by the type of jam served, but now Elizabeth was glad that they had not made too much of a fuss, as it would have clearly been nothing but ex
tra stress upon themselves and the cook.

  Instead, they ate roast beef sandwiches with lettuce, cheese, and pickles, with fresh fruit, and apple and candied orange tarts. She was glad that her aunt had used what was probably the last of her stock of preserved oranges to serve today. It was delicious, and she thanked her aunt softly for her care.

  “Now, my dear,” Lady Adelaide began, “you must tell me why my nephew looked so apologetic this morning, when he brought Georgie to my home.”

  Elizabeth did not know what say. What should she say? That her nephew had confessed his love to her the day before, and she did not know how to respond to it? If she should respond to it? Under the table, Jane kicked her foot lightly, and that reminded Elizabeth that she should answer.