by Leenie Brown
Finally Mrs. Darcy
A Pride and Prejudice Novella
Leenie Brown
Leenie B BooksHalifax
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews, without written permission from its publisher and author.
This book is a work of fiction. All names, events, and places are a product of this author’s imagination. If any name, event and/or place did exist, it is purely by coincidence that it appears in this book.
Finally Mrs. Darcy © Leenie Brown. All Rights Reserved, except where otherwise noted.
Contents
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Choices Series
Other Books by Leenie Brown
About the Author
Connect with Leenie Brown
Dedication
To my “evil” influence and wonderful friend, Rose,
who started me thinking about unhappy endings and setting them right
Prologue
“Are you ready, my dear?”
Elizabeth Amberley, née Bennet, looked up from the trunk she was packing and nodded. It was the expected answer and won her a smile from her aunt.
“It will not be so bad. It is a second chance at happiness.”
Again Elizabeth nodded, but in her heart, she could not agree. Her chance at true happiness had been lost long ago. Five years ago to be exact. She had attempted a second chance at happiness once already only to find herself merely contented and then, within a short period of time, a widow.
“I do not plan to remarry, Aunt.”
Maria Amberly wrapped an arm around Elizabeth’s shoulder. “So I have told your uncle, but he is convinced that you shall change your mind.” She chuckled. “And I have learned that when Gareth Amberly is bent on a plan, be it political or personal, there is very little which will stop him. He is quite unlike Jack in that regard.” She crossed the room to the window and looked across the open fields toward where Netherfield stood in the distance. “Even as a boy, Jack was malleable. He would take an idea into his head and then upon hearing a friend’s, his plan would change.” She looked back at Elizabeth. “I dare say it was quite different for you.”
Elizabeth joined her aunt at the window. She would miss this view when she was in town, but the estate was no longer hers now that Jack was dead. “I fear you are right. My will could be quite unyielding as a child. Even as a young woman I struggled with accepting anyone’s ideas as right save my own.”
Her aunt laughed. “My dear, you are still a young woman, which is why you deserve a second chance at happiness.”
Elizabeth’s smile was tight. “I think I have had my share of happiness. Perhaps it is another’s chance now and not mine.”
“You were happy with Jack?” The question was soft almost as if her aunt were fearful of knowing the truth.
Elizabeth nodded. Being content, as she had been with Jack, was not unhappiness; it was just not so fulfilling as she imagined it could be.
Her aunt studied Elizabeth’s face, then, with a nod, she turned to leave. “A season will do you good. There will be sights to see, soirees to attend, and new clothes in colours other than those of mourning to purchase. And your uncle has already been making a list of acquaintances to whom he wishes to introduce you.”
Elizabeth sighed.
“It is not very long ─ yet.” Her aunt chuckled. “He claims the best prospects will be at your first soiree, and if none of them take, he will then revise his list.”
Elizabeth shook her head. “I do not plan to remarry,” she repeated.
“Pah,” her aunt waved the words away, “you may find your opinion swayed. Do not close your mind to the possibility.” She winked at Elizabeth as she left the room and calling to a footman to attend to the trunk that Elizabeth’s maid had just closed.
“She is persistent,” Elizabeth said to the maid.
“That she is, ma’am.”
“But they are very kind.”
“Indeed, ma’am, I have always thought so.”
Elizabeth tipped her head and looked at the young girl whom she had selected to attend her after she married. “Are you ready for the town, Grace? It is very different from Hertfordshire.”
“I am, ma’am.”
Elizabeth turned toward the window again. “Will you miss your family?” Her thoughts roamed first to the little plot of earth in the churchyard where her own father now rested and then to the cottage not far from Aunt Philips where Mama and Kitty now lived, ending finally at the rooms above a shop where Mary happily tended to her family while her husband saw to his customers below. She would miss this. Jane, happily, would be in town for, at least, the season.
“I suppose I shall, ma’am, but my home is with you.”
Elizabeth gave her a small smile.
“And a happy home it has been and will be,” Grace added. “Is there anything else, ma’am?”
“No. You should go see to your things.”
“Thank you, ma’am.” Grace dipped a curtsey and left the room, leaving Elizabeth a few moments of solitude before a footman came to collect the trunk, and her aunt returned to hurry her along to the carriage.
Elizabeth gave the room a final look before turning to leave. In her heart, she said a prayer of thanks for the man who had provided this for her and given her connections to wonderful relatives such as Gareth and Maria Amberly. Then with another prayer for patience to endure the scheming of her uncle, she descended the stairs to the waiting carriage and what was to be her new life.
Chapter 1
Elizabeth took in the splendor of the ballroom. It was far grander than she had ever experienced. The walls were decorated with portraits and landscapes, one standing alongside the next with others over and below them. Four large chandeliers twinkled, their brilliance reflected in several mirrors that hung amongst the paintings. Down the length of the room to her left, doors opened into the house, while on her right were grand doors framed by pillars and heavy drapes leading into the garden. At the far end of the room, a small group of musicians was pausing between dances, and on the floor, only a few chalk flowers remained distinguishable. She no longer felt overdressed, though, she did still feel strange wearing colour after so long in mourning clothes.
“Come, my dear.” Her uncle, Gareth Amberly, took her elbow. “There are people to meet.”
Elizabeth put a smile on her face and nodded. At one time she had enjoyed meeting people. It had been amusing to watch their interactions and make judgments about their character, but that was before she had discovered how very little she knew about judging character.
They had stopped about half way down the length of the left side of the room. Her uncle lifted onto his toes, stretching his neck this way and that as if searching for someone in particular. Inwardly, Elizabeth sighed and turned to admire a painting of a young woman with a small child on her lap and another standing just behind her shoulder. Uncle Gareth had been eagerly talking about this ball for a fortnight. He was worse than Lydia for excitement and equalled her mother for chatter about of this or that gentleman. She tilted her head and wistfully examined the face of the young child. No matter how she might long for a family of her own, Uncle Gareth was far more eager to see her remarried than she was. Although her time in town had helped her spirits to lift and a
small glimmer of hope that happiness might be possible, she truly had no desire to marry again…unless… She shook her head. That was hopeless. She had had her chance and squandered it. She was certain that Mr. Darcy had married long ago and to someone more acceptable than she. She would have to be content with spoiling her nieces and nephews instead of her own children. The thought saddened her, but she would not marry again unless she could give her heart completely. And that was just simply impossible. She turned away from the painting just as her uncle turned to her with a pleased smile.
“Ah, there is someone for you to meet.” Mr. Amberly was once again steering her by the elbow through the crowds of people.
Although she longed to be anywhere but here in a bustling ballroom being introduced to gentlemen, she could not help her small giggle at his excitement. He was a dear man, and she would meet anyone he deemed worthy of the introduction.
“He is older but has never married.” Her uncle, leaned close and, as if not wishing to be heard by his quarry, spoke in hushed tones. “Some say he has been nursing a broken heart for years so I’d not get my hopes up, but one never knows.” He gave her a wink. “And you must start somewhere. You are too young to remain a widow. You need a husband and children. Jack was a good man, but he is not the only good man. In fact, I wondered at times if he really was the man for you.” He patted her arm reassuringly. “Oh, I know you were happy, but — and I probably should not speak so of my own nephew — there was something missing — a glow, a sparkle.” He patted her arm once again. “You were not designed for such a dull existence.”
Elizabeth blushed at the comment, for he was quite correct. Her marriage had been a happy one. Both husband and wife were good-natured and well-suited in temperament, but it was a dull existence. Jack would never cross Elizabeth in debate no matter how often she attempted to engage him, and he would never do anything to provoke. Though he found many things diverting, none was ever diverting enough to truly enjoy a good laugh ─ the kind that caused joy to bubble up and overwhelm your soul, that caused you to gasp for air and brush away tears. But, he had provided a good home, a good income, and good connections. Even after his passing, she had been surrounded by those who truly cared for her. She knew she should be thankful for such an arrangement — and truly she was. She was content to be in such a secure position as she now was, but there was a part of her that longed for more…what was the word? Her cheeks flushed further as her mind found it. Passion — she longed for more passion in life.
“Here we are.” Her uncle tapped a gentleman on the shoulder.
Elizabeth gasped, and her free hand flew to her heart as the man turned around.
“Ah, Mr. Darcy, may I present my niece, Mrs. Amberly. Elizabeth, dear, this is Mr. Darcy of Pemberley in Derbyshire.” Her uncle hid a small smile as he took in the looks of astonishment on both faces. Perhaps the rumours he had heard were true. He waited a few moments for one or the other to speak, but seeing that it was unlikely, he prodded, “I had hoped you might be willing to dance with Elizabeth, Mr. Darcy. This is her first social event since she came out of mourning.”
“Mourning?” Darcy blinked and slowly shifted his gaze to the man next to Elizabeth. He struggled to remember the man’s name. He had met him once or twice. Had his uncle introduced the man to him?
Mr. Amberly nodded. “My nephew — died of a trifling cold that turned into a raging fever.”
“My condolences to you both.” Amberly, her name, as well as the gentleman’s, was Amberly. His gaze shifted from Mr. Amberly to Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Mr. Darcy.” Elizabeth’s voice was soft and wavered just a bit. “It came as a shock to have one so young taken so quickly. My father’s passing was less shocking.”
“Your father, too?” She had lost both a husband and a father? In all of his thinking about her, he had not once imagined so great a loss befalling her. No, his thoughts had always tended to see her happy with her sisters and father. He had supposed she would marry, but he never allowed the thought to occupy his mind for any length of time ─ the pain of such a thing was too great.
“The month prior,” said Elizabeth.
“Ah, but Elizabeth is here tonight to put much of that behind her.” Mr. Amberly smiled at Mr. Darcy. He had brought Elizabeth to this ball to meet this man to restore her happiness, and talk of dead husbands and fathers was not going to do it. A dance, a time to reminisce about a previous acquaintance, that was what was needed. “Not that a dance can make you forget those who have been lost,” he explained, “but it can help us move forward. Our lives simply must not stop because another’s life has ended.” He moved slightly so that Elizabeth was closer to Darcy and looked expectantly at the gentleman.
“I fear my uncle will be quite disappointed if we do not dance, sir.” Elizabeth smiled at her uncle and then returned her attention to Darcy. “I would be honoured to dance with you if I am still acceptable as a partner. I realize it has been five years since we last saw each other, but I think I can still qualify as a person known to you and not one of those less tolerable sort.” She leaned a bit closer and whispered. “Strangers.”
Her uncle could not hide his smile at that. It had been years since he had witnessed her lively wit. The absence of that wit was what first caused him to doubt the strength of the bond between her and his nephew. “May I leave her in your care, Mr. Darcy, and seek out my wife before she has engaged herself for every dance? I do not wish to be left standing about like an old fool?”
“You may.” Darcy gave a small bow of acceptance.
Mr. Amberly winked at Elizabeth and squeezed her elbow reassuringly before weaving his way through the crowd to find his wife.
An awkward silence filled her uncle’s place. A few people jostled passed them before Darcy spoke.
“Come, Mrs. Amberly, we must have some conversation. I hear it is required even in a ballroom.”
Elizabeth giggled behind her fan. “Shall we speak of books?”
He extended his arm to her as the music began. “Books should never be spoken of in a ballroom, and I would rather hear about you.” They took their place in line.
She glanced at the people beside her. “I doubt, sir, that here is the best place for such a conversation.”
He smiled, ignoring her suggestion. He did not wish to speak about the weather or some other trivial matter especially when he longed to hear about her. “Your sisters? Are they well?”
The music began and drew them together for a moment before sending them apart.
“They are,” she said as they came together again. “All save Kitty are married, but we expect a happy announcement shortly — or at least Uncle Gareth does. He is ever the optimist.” She stepped away and then back. “I, however, think it will be yet one more season before Kitty is settled. Four and twenty tends to turn a young woman’s mind to seriously contemplating marriage before her bloom has faded.”
As she wove her way in and out, she thought of how turning that age had inspired her to consider marriage without strong affection. The fear of being a burden to her family or worse, being left to scratch out a meager existence on her own, had caused her mother’s desire to see her daughters married and Charlotte’s choice to marry Mr. Collins understandable. And so, when Jack had presented his offer, it seemed only logical to accept. He did not claim to love her, but he did respect her. Feeling it was the best she would be able to manage, having already lost the one who held her heart, she had agreed.
Their hands met again. “Lydia is also married as you well know.”
He blinked and halted his steps nearly causing another gentleman to stumble. “And why would I know that?”
She lifted an eyebrow and stared up at him. “Because, you were there, sir.” She smiled. “Lydia cannot keep a secret, and when she and her husband visited Longbourn, she mentioned your attendance at her wedding. I admit that bit of information piqued my curiosity and my mind would not rest until I ferreted out the remaining information from my a
unt Gardiner.” She looked away from his eyes for a moment. She wished to ask him why he had done so much for her sister and yet cut all ties to her family, but her heart faltered as a couple wound their way past her. So, instead, she said what she had wished to say those five years ago. “I must thank you on behalf of my family.”
Upon returning her gaze to him, she was startled to find a pained expression in his eyes. Thinking that in speaking of the incident, she may have spoken amiss, she was about to apologize when Darcy swiftly took her by the hand and led her out of the line, behind one of the columns next to the garden door and onto the terrace.
“You were right.” He said as they took the steps which led to the garden. “The dance floor was not the best place for such a conversation.” He placed her hand on his arm as they descended the steps and began down a path. “My actions toward your sister and Mr. Wickham were to salve my own conscience by guaranteeing you would not be harmed through my lack of openness regarding Mr. Wickham’s lack of character.” He stopped and looked at her. “I believe, I thought only of you.”
She shook her head in disbelief. How could he say such a thing? She had hoped that he had helped Lydia for her sake, but then, when Mr. Bingley had returned to Netherfield alone and said his connection with Mr. Darcy was at an end, her hope had faded. It was as she had first feared, he wanted nothing to do with a family who was so shamefully tied to Mr. Wickham.
“Why?” The question would not go unasked. “Why would you think so highly of me, and yet not…” She turned away. “Why did you not return?” She closed her eyes and attempted to prepare herself for whatever excuse he might give. She did not have a wish to hear his reason. It was something far more demanding. It was a need. She needed to know the truth for good or for ill.
Darcy watched her wrap her arms around herself and take one step away from him. “I spoke to Bingley shortly after Miss Lydia married Wickham.” He closed the distance between them. “I attempted to confess all that I had done to separate him from Miss Bennet, but he only heard half before he refused to listen further and stormed from my home.” The dirt on the path crunched lightly as he dug his toe into it.
