by Nicky Roth
Special thanks
to my husband and my son,
both of whom have been so wonderfully patient with me
during the process of writing this
and are ever so supportive.
I could not imagine life without you!
N. Roth
A Nudge in the Right Direction
♥♥♥
A Pride and Prejudice Variation - Novella
by
Nicky Roth
Prologue
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“Is it not nice to have ones house to oneself again?” Caroline Bingley remarked as she watched the carriage depart from Netherfield, carrying away Jane Bennet and, more importantly, her sister Elizabeth.
No-one answered not even Louisa and then again, her exclamation had been nothing more than a rhetorical question at any rate. Smiling sweetly she turned around to bat her eyes at Mr. Darcy who unfortunately, deep in his own thoughts, did not notice. His eyes were firmly fixed on the chaise as it drove towards Longbourn three miles down the road, about to turn into the sheltered well used country lane and at last out of their sight.
The attention Mr. Darcy had paid the second oldest Bennet daughter had begun to irk her off late, though she had tried her utmost not to appear too concerned about the influence this self-sufficient country no-body seemed to have on her intended husband. If only Mr. Darcy knew he was intended for her it would not be so very bad, but as yet he was perfectly ignorant of this fact. Even the few weeks under the same roof, her complying behaviour, her attentions and machinations, had as yet been unsuccessful to secure his attentions. All this was very vexing.
And then there was this ridiculous ball Charles meant to give! - And no doubt Jane Bennet would think it to be in her honour. Oh, had they never come to Hertfordshire in the first place.
All her pursuits of the last months, nay the past two years, seemed now in danger to come to nothing. Her brother was besotted, while Mr. Darcy was not – at least not with her. It really was quite ridiculous to think that all the elegant ladies of the le bon ton had never interested him all that much, if at all, and now Miss Elizabeth Bennet had come along with her fine eyes and impertinent behaviour and he was thoroughly enchanted. Ha! It was not to be borne.
Something needed to be done. And quickly as well as thoroughly.
As the men went out shooting she sat down with her sister, making herself comfortable in the parlour for yet another afternoon of uninterrupted boredom. Another pitiable creature she thought to herself as she watched her sister take out her needlework. Caroline bit her tongue lest her thought would escape her lips. But truly, with that husband of hers it was astonishing Louisa always seemed in such good spirits. Then again, her sister had always been much more like their brother than herself, calm, complying and fairly self-sufficient. She might have a taste for fashion and society but lately, often enough, she had watched her skip, well not literally skip but rather swiftly walk much as Miss Elizabeth always did, along the lawn and paths of Netherfield in pure enjoyment of a sunny late autumn day. She had picked up leaves to press them for whatever reason and one evening Louisa had even dared to put one of the last roses, very late ones indeed, into her hair. A natural rose! It was quite laughable really when she had access to the finest silk flowers one could possibly wish for. Caroline herself would never be caught dead with something as simple and unpretentious as a single white rose, freshly plucked from the bush, in her hair. She preferred feathers anyway.
But alas, currently Louisa was her sole consolation as everybody around her seemed to lose every bit of common sense to this drab and most inelegant country. Not that her sister was that much better, but she had at least something akin to sense left in her.
“You look relived.” Mrs. Hurst addressed her at last and thus made it necessary for Caroline to wake from her reverie.
“Are you not?” was her testy reply as she elegantly leaned herself against an embroidered silk cushion on her favourite settee closest to the fire place.
“Oh, only to an extent. I rather liked to have Miss Bennet here, and Miss Elizabeth was quite amusing to have around as well.”
“You found her impertinence amusing, did you not?” Caroline spat back, staring at her sister aghast.
Louisa sighed and put down her needlework, a project that never seemed to make any progress at all even though she worked tirelessly at it.
“Sister dearest, what troubles you so?”
Was that not obvious? For a moment Caroline said nothing in reply, making up her mind, but when she began to speak her sister, with some astonishment, listened to what she had to say – or rather to propose.
“Louisa, will you promise to help me?”
At this Louisa Hurst sat up a bit more straight as if in some alarm as to what might follow this request.
“If it is in my power to do so, for certain.” she answered quietly after a moment’s hesitation.
“Good, listen. I intend to use this blasted ball Charles intends to give to my advantage to once and for all fix Mr. Darcy. After all I cannot have this country chit ruin my prospects just because she has fine eyes. She is nothing, a nobody with no fashion, elegance or even beauty. And her relations! With them being in trade and living in Cheapside. - Cheapside, Louisa! And then this mother of hers... - I cannot be. It must not be!”
By now Mrs. Hurst had put down her embroidery and looked at her sister with an equal share of incredulous curiosity and concern.
“And what do you intend to do about it?”
Caroline took a deep breath before announcing confidently: “I plan to compromise Mr. Darcy.”
Chapter 1
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Three days had passed since her proclamation, and to say Louisa had been astonished would have been more than a slight understatement. She had been shocked, grieved even, that her sister intended to resort to such measures. She had tried to dissuade Caroline from it, but at long last had agreed to help when she had realised that all her interferences would come to nothing. And after all, the Netherfield ball was the perfect opportunity to realise her plan, Caroline had told her haughtily, and also that she was most determined to follow her scheme. So much so that she refused to hear any reason no matter how well meant it was. This matter, she had explained further, was of too much importance for her to be intimidated by any possible failure. Not that Caroline would fail. No, she would come out victorious and by the end of the year she would be Mrs. Fitzwilliam Darcy, cost what it may.
As their brother and Mr. Darcy were on their way to visit the ladies at Longbourn, one more reason to act quickly before the inevitable happened and Darcy dared propose to Miss Elizabeth, and Mr. Hurst slept on his favourite chaise longue in the far corner of the sitting room, this was the perfect opportunity to speak of the particulars of her plan, or so Caroline seemed to think. If it had been for Louisa herself, this subject would better not ever have been addressed again, but she had little choice in the matter it appeared. It had taken Caroline some time to think everything over, but now she had every detail worked out and was quite proud of what she had come up with.
So consequently Caroline approached her sister, once again engrossed in her silly, useless needlework, and proposed to venture outside lest Mr. Hurst might wake up and overhear what was not for anybody to listen to safe for Louisa and herself.
“I presume it is about your plan to entrap Mr. Darcy?” she was asked accordingly as with some hesitation Mrs. Hurst put away her work, neatly folding it before placing it in her pretty little work basket.
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“What else would it be about?” Miss Bingley smirked, raising an elegant eyebrow.
“Admittedly I had hoped you would refrain from this step, but it seems you are determined. You are well aware that this could ruin you, are you not?”
“Nonsense! Not the way I have planned it out, Louisa.”
Stepping outside and into the dim autumn sunlight they made their way over to the box maze of the more formal part of the extensive garden. It was just perfect for her plan, as it was neither too far nor too short a distance from the house.
“See, all I need you to do, Louisa, is to lure Mr. Darcy here claiming I have twisted my ankle while taking a breath of fresh air. A ballroom is always sticky and no-one would doubt the truth of it, for sure.”
“And what if Charles insists on helping you instead? I could hardly keep him from coming to your aid.”
“Oh, he will be busy with his dear angel, no doubt. Even though he is host he still plans to dance with her, and I am sure today he will ask her for the first set and the supper one, he said something along those lines. So during the supper set it will be. Charles will be busy dancing and Mr. Darcy, fortunately not inclined to dance as he has told us repeatedly, will be all too willing to help me out of my predicament.” Caroline announced triumphantly.
Her sister however did not appear convinced. Sceptically she eyed Caroline before she came up with another objection: “What if Mr. Hurst should offer to help?”
At that Miss Bingley could only laugh mirthfully: “When has Mr. Hurst ever been sober this late in the evening and at a ball?”
Louisa did not reply to that, knowing this to be quite true. Still, that her sister spoke of it so unabashedly she obviously did not like.
But Caroline, not realising she had touched such a delicate topic, carried on with blatant viciousness: “Mr. Hurst is the most boring, unruly man there is, surely you cannot think he would offer such an act of chivalry of his own accord? What can you be thinking off, Louisa? No, I will be quite safe from his attentions. Your husband will sit in his corner either fast asleep or, excuse my choice of words, as pissed as a fart as always, not paying much attention to anybody – neither you nor me. The only thing of any interest for him would be the continuous supply of wine.”
As it often is, to hear the truth was more hurtful as if the words had been applied unjustly. Mrs. Hurst pressed her lips together lest she should say something she might later regret. She was used to her sisters vitriolic temper, though this time Caroline had gone too far.
It was her after all who gave her a home when she was in town. It was the very man she had just slighted who offered her hospitality, and even though he drank more than his share and could be quite a bore, he was reliably so. What Caroline did not seem to realise was that Louisa, despite his faults, dearly loved her husband; loved him for the freedom he afforded her and even for his rare display of companionship. He was quite a different man when around people he actually liked, being witty and attentive – so what did that say about Caroline? At any rate, George Hurst might not be a Mr. Darcy, but he was her husband and no-one had the right to speak about him as her sister had just done.
It was to their surprise that they saw two horsemen approach from the distance and quickly, as both of them travelled with considerable speed, it became clear that it was their brother and his friend.
“So, Louisa, you know what to do. Do not forget, during the supper set. Wait ten minutes after I have left and then pretend to be in search of me, you do not have to come out just make sure no-one sees you indoors at that time, and then call on Mr. Darcy to help me. You of course, will have to follow so there will be a witness. I think I have not mentioned that before.” Miss Bingley shortly instructed, repeating her lecture before heading towards the stables and leaving her fuming sister behind.
Normally Caroline Bingley avoided this part of the estate, as the stench of the animals was something she rather not fill up her nose with, but today she was too curious why, after less than an hour, the men had returned from what was intended to be at least a two hour visit.
“Darcy, are you all right?” she heard her brother enquire while Mr. Darcy had already jumped off his horse, his expression unusually dark and positively angry.
“Yes, thank you. I am fine.” was the short reply as he himself began to unsaddle the horse and rub it dry with firm and determined strokes using an old piece of cambric.
“It is that strange fellow, is it not?” Charles dug deeper.
“I care nothing about that snivelling parson whoever he might be.”
“I meant strange in the sense of unfamiliar, at least to me as you seemed to know the man.”
“It is George Wickham.”
Her brother appeared to be surprised: “You must be joking!”
“I wish I were. If he is here it means trouble. He is already busy establishing himself as the most amiable man around once again, and by the time he is found out it will be too late for many a respectable young lady. He is a scoundrel, Bingley. And a professional one at that. I truly wonder why he has joined the militia. He never commits himself to anything, unless there is something in it for him. He has cultivated his charms to perfection, I have to give him that. If being charming were taught at university he would have come out top of his class.”
All this Caroline Bingley overheard with great interest, barely peeking around the corner of the house behind which she hid.
Not that she knew the man, though she had heard Darcy mention his name once or twice, nor was she particularly interested in him considering he was the son of old Mr. Darcy’s steward but still, perhaps she could steer Miss Eliza Bennet in his direction and be rid of her rival once and for all. Oh, all the possibilities this opened. A charming man? Ha!
Walking back into the house once again she sought out her sister, not realising that she seemed unusually quiet after their previous conversation.
“Louisa, we must make sure to invite the officers to the ball as well. I am not sure whether Charles intended to do so, but as there is such a surplus of ladies in this neighbourhood we will be in want of more men.”
“What are you up to now?” Mrs. Hurst enquired coolly, not looking up from her work.
“Oh, I might have an idea regarding Miss Eliza.” was her vague reply as she still needed to work out the details to her most excellent scheme.
“Just be careful, Caroline, all this scheming might one day bite you in the back.”
“See, it is this that has landed you in this situation, Louisa. You were so worried to not find a better husband that you married the first man who asked you.”
“He was not the first.” Louisa replied with forced calmness.
“Oh no! How could I forget Mr. Perry, the wine merchant…!?”
“You know, Caroline, in your pursuit for Mr. Darcy you start to be rather ruthless, and I begin to doubt that this is a way to attract anyone. If you had tried it with more amiability perhaps you would have fixed Mr. Darcy a long time ago. You are pretty and have great elegance as well as a great dowry… - But then again, I tend to forget, this is you.” getting up Mrs. Hurst left the room and an irked sister behind her as she sought refuge in her own chambers.
In Louisa’s mind a plan began to form as she slowly and with forced dignity ascended the stairs, and by the time she had reached her dressing room, which held a small settee just underneath the window overlooking the back of the house, it had advanced enough to make her smile again. Though a happy smile it was not. It was a smile of ire and mirth, but alas, it was a smile.
Sitting down on the sofa Louisa Hurst watched the busy goings-on in the stable yard and was surprised to see Mr. Darcy as well as her brother sitting unceremoniously on a gate, speaking animatedly with one another. No wonder they had sought refuge there were Caroline but rarely ventured and thus the chance for an open conversation was the greatest. Still, even she could not
help wondering what they were talking about as her brother clearly looke
d concerned, while Mr. Darcy seemed positively annoyed.
Chapter 2
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“So, what is it about this Mr. Wickham? You have told me he has caused trouble before, but never to what extend nor of what kind.” Charles Bingley addressed his friend as soon as Darcy had finished cleaning his horse and had led it back into its box. Something he rarely did himself but which seemed to have a soothing effect on the man nonetheless.
Sighing Fitzwilliam Darcy looked at him then beckoned him towards the gate that closed off the stable yard. It would not do if he was overheard and, as the grooms were busy inside the stables, this was presumably the best place in all of Netherfield to talk about such delicate a subject.
“I think I have told you that he was the son of our steward during my father’s lifetime. He also was my father’s godson and as such was assisted by my father, who destined him for the church. A valuable living had been promised to him that Wickham declined however, when it fell vacant shortly after my father’s death, and for which I compensated him with a large amount of money.”
“This does not sound like much trouble to me, old friend. So I presume there is more?”
“Yes, much more, I am afraid to say. My father had supported him at Cambridge, where I first detected his true nature – one of idleness and dissipation and lies. One evening I visited him unexpectedly and found him in bed with the dean’s daughter and her friend, the poor girls drunk and hardly able to stand on their own. I will not go into any detail as to what lewd acts they were performing, but rest assured I was extremely taken aback.”
Bingley looked at him speechless while Darcy, at the remembrance, sported a slight blush.
“It was the first of many occasions I helped him out of the mess he himself had created and that Wickham dared to blame on his situation, when in fact he was given every chance in life to prosper and bloom. Anyhow, the child has been given to a loving couple in the country.” Darcy carried on, trying to keep his voice emotionless.
