An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Virginia Brand

  AN UNNATURAL INHERITANCE

  A Pride and Prejudice Variation

  by Virginia Brand

  Copyright © 2017 Virginia Brand. All rights reserved.

  dedication

  To my own Mr. Tilney; a man who indulges my ghost stories and flights of fancy with patience, humor, and considerable support.

  ACT I

  I

  It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a young witch in possession of ancestral magic must be in want of a coven.

  Luckily, this was not the case for Elizabeth Bennet, who had to look no farther than the bedrooms down the hall to find a ready supply of young witches equally in need of magical support. As the second of five daughters, all magically inclined, Elizabeth had been quite fortunate to grow up in a family that was as rambunctious as they were preternaturally gifted, and thus had never been short of companions to study and magik with.

  On this particular afternoon, however, Elizabeth would have kindly forsaken all four of her sisters, along with her abilities, for a single moment of blessed silence. Longbourn, which had been the seat of her family for centuries, was in utter turmoil at the recent revelation that the nearby house of Netherfield Park had been let at last. The grand home had stood empty for far too long, and to her mother’s infinite delight, a single gentleman with a purported income of £5,000 a year had let the house through the season.

  As this was the culmination of every dream Mrs. Bennet had ever had, she was practically hysterical in her excitement, and upon hearing that her husband, Mr. Bennet, did not intend to visit the gentleman, her hysteria became fully realized. From her room upstairs Elizabeth could hear her mother complaining about her nerves, and she turned to her older sister with a sigh.

  “Shall we make something for her?” Elizabeth asked Jane, gesturing toward the chaotic sounds coming from below. Jane, who had been in the middle of a novel, looked up and bit her lip.

  “I do not know, Lizzy. You know I prefer to save our mixtures for when they are truly necessary. It seems wrong to use our skills every time mama gets a case of the nerves. It is hardly fair to her, and I’m sure she will recover soon. She is simply upset by papa’s teasing,” Jane answered, her voice low and soft.

  Elizabeth let out an exasperated sigh and flopped back onto the bed she shared with her eldest and favorite sister. Jane, ever pragmatic, was stubbornly rational and careful about when and why the sisters used their magic. Elizabeth was close to responding when the door burst open and her two youngest sisters, Kitty and Lydia, flounced inside, talking in unison.

  “There is a rich, handsome new gentleman come to the area, and he is going to marry me!” Lydia exclaimed loudly. Kitty huffed and shook her head.

  “No he is not, you don’t know that. He could marry any of us,” Kitty retorted. Lydia, effortlessly self-assured as always, waved away her sister’s comment.

  “No, I know he shall marry me, for I read an enchantment to bring him here and make him fall in love with me, because I am the best at magic,” she proclaimed. Elizabeth resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

  “You did no such thing. Such magic does not exist, and if it did, you are far too young and unskilled to weave it,” Elizabeth answered. Yet, despite dismissing her youngest sister’s statement, Elizabeth couldn’t entirely help but wonder if there was something to Lydia’s claim. Eyeing her sister’s recently expanded decolletage, it wasn’t the first time she wondered whether Lydia was capable of more advanced magic than the rest of them.

  “I think we should come up with a mixture for him, to make sure he speaks only to us the entire time he’s here,” Kitty responded, giggling. In the chaos, the girls hadn’t noticed their middle sister, Mary, slip quietly into the room. Clutching a heavy book to her chest, Mary furrowed her brows as she fixed a steady, disapproving stare on Kitty and Lydia.

  “I wouldn’t recommend that. In 1734, a coven outside of Leith attempted a similar mixture and ended up making a large part of their neighborhood mute for a fortnight. Additionally, the construction of such a spell is difficult and shouldn’t be attempted lightly. As we are an uneven force and our powers are muted by the ties to the land, I do not think such an attempt would be wise,” Mary intoned seriously, never breaking her hard stare. “You would know these things if you studied at all.”

  Lydia rolled her eyes and groaned before dramatically throwing herself onto Elizabeth’s bed, narrowly missing her sister by an inch.

  “Mama would support my plan, you know. She would be entirely convinced that it was the most reasonable path to take,” she snapped back. Jane stood up quickly, nearly bumping into Kitty as she turned toward Lydia.

  “Mama will know absolutely nothing of this plan, or any plan that involves magic, and you know that,” Jane said sternly. “Father would be most seriously displeased if he found out you have told mama. You have only recently been allowed to join in the coven’s monthly rituals, even though you are too young, and if you cannot keep this secret we will bind you so you cannot practice at all until you come of age.”

  Elizabeth lazily arched an eyebrow at her sister’s speech, mildly impressed. Though gentle-natured and opposed to any kind of conflict, Jane took her ancestral duty as the matriarch of the Bennet coven very seriously, and could only be stirred to discipline her younger sisters when the importance of family magic was on the line.

  Jane had been forced to deliver such addresses more often recently, ever since their father had seen fit to allow Lydia to fully embrace the Bennet family legacy and practice freely. Elizabeth thought she was far too young, but Mr. Bennet had not listened, and when Kitty came of age and was allowed to participate in the coven’s rites, he chose to include Lydia as well. He reasoned that it was much easier to train two daughters at once, instead of repeating the process in a year’s time, but Elizabeth thought this a weak excuse — especially since reality had shown that the bulk of the youngest Bennets’ education was to fall on the shoulders of the elder sisters.

  It had always been especially difficult to make her sisters understand why their mother could never be told about the coven. As girls, such nonsense talk about magic and powers could be dismissed, but as they matured into young women, Lydia and Kitty seemed to find it impossible to not show off and flaunt themselves at every possibility. The Bennet daughters had inherited their magic through their father’s line — Mrs. Bennet being an entirely non-magical individual — and it was exceedingly clear to most who knew her that she was not the type of woman who was capable of keeping such a secret or understanding its importance. Though it was not illegal to practice witchcraft, it was entirely unfashionable, and not fully understood.

  There were rumors, of course, left over from the days when the Bennet witches had been able to practice openly, when witchcraft was still in style and many of the great houses practiced. But very few knew that the practice was alive behind the closed doors of Longbourn, even if many speculated as such. If Mrs. Bennet were to find out, it would surely not stay that way, and Elizabeth was positive that the knowledge would only cause further strife within the household.

  As if summoned by Elizabeth’s thoughts, Mrs. Bennet called for her daughters to attend her, apparently distressed by the lack of an audience after hearing such important neighborhood news. Desperately wishing to be the one who delivered the freshest gossip to her friends, Mrs. Bennet insisted the girls ready themselves so they may go visit their closest neighbor, Lady Lucas, at Lucas Lodge. After several moments spent convincing Mary to leave her historical tome at home, in quick formation the girls had readied themselves and set off.

 
; At the hands of Mrs. Bennet, the news of the mysterious and wealthy gentleman spread quickly, and soon the small town of Meryton was abuzz with news. Every social engagement speculated as to how handsome he was; his yearly sums were dissected, and much was said of the jewels and carriages that would be owned by the gentleman’s future wife. Though many mothers refrained from speculating who such a wife would be, Mrs. Bennet did not feel inclined to restrict herself, and thus much was said of how happy she would be when either her Jane or Lydia were comfortably situated with the unnamed gentleman.

  But while her mother and younger sisters were captivated by ideas of carriages and jewels, Elizabeth’s mind was occupied by something far more concerning.

  Her father had called her into his study early one morning, before she had crept out the door for an early walk. Mr. Bennet’s study was a sacred place, closed off to the family and servants unless specifically invited; an honor that Mrs. Bennet had not received in some years.

  Elizabeth slipped into one of the large chairs by the fire nervously, glancing around the cramped room that was filled from top to bottom with dusty volumes of magic, history, and family lore. A bookcase in the corner was devoid of books, instead containing a collection of rocks, feathers, and assorted plants. The room always smelled like earth, and in the early morning sun the dust particles danced lazily through the beams coming in from the far windows. The room was both comforting and foreign to her, and she perched anxiously in her seat as she waited for her father to speak.

  At length, he sighed and put down the parchment he was holding.

  “I have received a most diverting letter, which I wish you to help me respond to,” Mr. Bennet said slowly. “You are familiar with your cousin, Mr. Collins, who stands to inherit our estate when I am gone.”

  Elizabeth winced slightly at his words. She was very aware of the unfortunate fact that Longbourn was entailed away from the female line, and instead would go to a male relation they had never met and had little reason to assume they would like. The entail had haunted her entire childhood, and consumed her mother’s every thoughts.

  “There is more to the entail than simply losing the house, however,” Mr. Bennet began, steepling his fingers together. Elizabeth inhaled slightly.

  “As you know, our family magic is tied to the land,” Mr. Bennet continued. Elizabeth nodded, knowing this already. When her father had first told her about her abilities, he and Jane had walked her to the wilderness on the edge of the estate, where the trees her ancestors had planted to first bind their magic to the land still stood. The land and the magic were connected and tied together, and for the first time Elizabeth had known why she felt so at home out of doors. It had been a magical, welcoming thing as a child, because she had not understood what it meant to have your magic tied and anchored to a plot of land; indeed, it had been romantic to think of. But in reality it had been harsh and limiting, and as an adult she understood that the decision had not been made willingly.

  “In the old days, when the gentry still practiced openly, it was not uncommon to tie the magic to the land. It was sometimes viewed as a sign of respectability for people to be able to trace their craft and their land back, and distinguished them from new landowners. But tying magic to the land severely dampened a family’s magical power, and kept them from practicing fully. Which is why when my great, great grandfather John Bennet was reckless with his magic, he was required by law to bind his magic to the land. To dull it, to trap it, and to ensure he couldn’t harm others with it,” Mr. Bennet said. Again, Elizabeth nodded. She knew this already, and was anxious to discover why her father was repeating a tale she had heard often as a child.

  “When he was forced to bind the land, John Bennet was determined to make sure his family never lost their access to the magic, and so he created an entail,” Mr. Bennet said. Elizabeth shifted, her anxiety growing greater by the moment. “The magic belongs to Longbourn — and so, in my ancestor’s logic, Longbourn must always belong to a Bennet as well. But Mr. Collins is not a Bennet. Unfortunately, as far as I can tell, my cousin has no magic. Which means the Bennet magical line will end with you and your sisters. When the estate legally passes to Mr. Collins, that bond between the Bennets and the land will be lost. In other words, you will lose your magic, and your home. Without a tie to the land, you will have no way to access your family right.”

  Elizabeth gasped slightly, unable to fully process what her father had just said. She should have known — should have assumed — but yet she had never fully pieced it together that without Longbourn, there would be no magic. She knew that the gifts were passed through the father’s line, so her children were unlikely to be skilled, but she had come to terms with that. She had always thought that even after she left Longbourn she would still have some meager power and inheritance for the rest of her life — at least enough to heal, or read leaves, or work simple cantrips. Suddenly things seemed so much more desperate.

  Nodding, her father passed her the letter he had been reading when she entered.

  “There is a bright spot, however. I have received a letter from our Mr. Collins, but I do not know quite what to make of it. Here, what do you think?”

  Elizabeth gingerly took the letter and skimmed it quickly. It was nonsensical, badly written, and composed in overly flowery language that looked strange in the author’s looping, clumsy font. The missive took a circuitous path in detailing that Mr. Collins was a pastor who wished to mend the bridge that had divided their families, possessed a suitable living at the discretion of one Lady Catherine de Bourgh (over whom there was much exclamation), and that he wished to visit Longbourn.

  “The man seems ridiculous,” she said at last, handing the letter back to her father. Mr. Bennet nodded slowly.

  “Exceedingly. And I am afraid that one of you girls will have to marry him.”

  ***

  When the day of the Meryton assembly arrived, Elizabeth wanted nothing more than to never again hear her mother speak of Mr. Bingley — for that was apparently the mysterious gentleman’s name — nor his supposedly large party that was soon to descend upon the neighborhood. She had nearly been driven to distraction as she listened to her mother and sisters exhaust the subject, and she found she had absolutely nothing to add to the topic.

  Elizabeth could barely bring herself to be excited about the evening's festivities, as her mind was too occupied by her conversation with her father. She begrudgingly knew he was right, but she was determined to find some way out of it. She had not met this Mr. Collins, but she hardly believed he could be any better than his letter had implied, and she hated the idea of one of her sisters being forced to marry the man simply so they could keep a family legacy.

  But luckily she did not have a disposition that would allow her to be out of spirits for long, and she readily surrendered her pensive mood as the night began. The mysterious Mr. Bingley and his party — which was now rumored to include over 20 new individuals — had not yet arrived, and the festive nature of the assembly was only heightened by the eager anticipation of his appearance.

  Elizabeth was in the middle of a reel when the party entered, and though she could not see them, she knew the moment they appeared, as practically all life stopped to look at them. Through the crowd it was revealed that the twenty-person party promised was in fact only comprised of five — two ladies and three gentlemen. As the crowd parted Elizabeth attempted to guess which was the much sought after Mr. Bingley. She hoped it was not the stout man on the end, whose eyes had already glazed over and who seemed captivated by the punch table.

  The older of the two ladies was attached to his arm, and had a pained expression that could only be worn by one with an odious husband, so luckily the stout gentleman seemed unlikely. Next to him was an affable looking man with strawberry hair and an eager, open face. On his arm was the younger of the two ladies, who appeared diametrically opposite of the gentleman. Where he was fair, she was dark, and where he looked friendly, she was decidedly unwelcomin
g. Elizabeth had to acknowledge that she appeared very fine, and her clothes were cut of far better material than her own, but she hardly thought the woman would find anything worth approbation in the room.

  Although he looked friendly, this second gentleman was still rather young, and Elizabeth hardly imagined he was up to the task of purchasing an estate, and so she allowed her eyes to travel to the third gentleman who stood slightly behind the group. He was everything pleasing that she could imagine in a gentleman; older than his friend, with full, dark hair and darker eyes. He had a strong jaw, and he carried himself well. She blushed slightly as she looked closer, for he was truly remarkably handsome. This must be the enigmatic Mr. Bingley, Elizabeth thought. Glancing at the second lady, she allowed that there was a certain resemblance in their hair and way they carried themselves, and realized that they must be siblings.

  And like his sister, Mr. Bingley had none of the open eagerness of his friend. Rather, his mouth was pulled in a tight line, and he looked distinctly unhappy. Yes, Elizabeth thought, this must be the wealthy Mr. Bingley, who apparently felt much elevated over his new neighbors. Elizabeth shook her head in dismay and returned to her dance partner in earnest. Her curiosity was satisfied; Mr. Bingley may be handsome, but he appeared exceedingly haughty, and therefore she would waste no more thought on his presence.

  Through the evening, word quickly circulated identifying Mr. Bingley’s younger, affable friend as the great Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire, who apparently had twice Mr. Bingley’s wealth and six times his charisma. This pleased Elizabeth greatly, as she believed it spoke to the man’s character that he could be the wealthiest in the room, and yet mix so genially with her friends. Even more pleasing were the attentions he showed Jane all evening. Mrs. Bennet had not bothered to retrieve Elizabeth when the family was introduced to the group (as it was unlikely Mr. Bingley would ever be interested in one as “wild” as Elizabeth, her mother explained later), but she was immensely happy to see that Jane and Mr. Darcy seemed quite drawn to each other, while Mr. Bingley stood off in the corner and refused to dance, despite the small number of gentleman present.