An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Virginia Brand

  She took a silent breath, reminding herself that the goal of her apology was not to receive one in turn, but rather to right a wrong on her part, and begin her study in controlling her anger. She would not allow herself to fail so soon into her endeavor.

  “You are kind, sir,” she said instead, allowing them to lapse back into a quietude. It seemed to her that the gentleman was perfectly content to walk in silence, and though she naturally would have preferred some form of discourse, she could not find a subject to grasp onto.

  They were still silent as they crested the top of the hill, just moments before the sun appeared, casting its soft light upon the countryside before them. To Elizabeth, it had always been a stunning view, her favorite time of day spent in her favorite place, and she let out a small sigh. It was not a sigh of contentment, as she usually would release on such an occasion, but rather a more somber one, pregnant with worry and slight frustration.

  She hadn’t realized how loud her expression had been until she glanced sideways to find Mr. Darcy giving her that curious, disapproving look that seemed constantly fixed on his face. The early light of dawn reflected off of his hard chin, and for the first time she was struck by how remarkably soft his strong expressions could be in the proper light.

  “Is something bothering you, Miss Elizabeth?” he asked her quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. She could see small tendrils of fog swirling around his mouth as he spoke.

  “Mr. Darcy, may I ask you something?” she asked, her voice light. Mr. Darcy nodded.

  “You do not seem to be very pleased with Hertfordshire, or anything in it,” she said, smiling slightly so she would not seem too censuring. She watched as a look of surprise crossed Mr. Darcy’s face, and for a brief moment one of his eyebrows cocked up in confusion before he broke their eye contact and turned to look out at the countryside.

  “Is that what is bothering you?” he asked. “My enjoyment of Hertfordshire?”

  Elizabeth laughed and shook her head.

  “No, sir, in truth it does not matter to me whether you enjoy the sights, the people, or the neighborhood. It is simply an observation.”

  “Miss Elizabeth, may I point out an observation of my own?” he asked, not once shifting his gaze away from the view in front of them.

  “Please do,” she said, turning to follow his eyes and searching for whatever sight in the distance had captured his attention.

  “I have noticed on several occasions that you are prone to expressing an observation or opinion that is not your own, purely for the sake of gauging other’s reactions to them,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once again. Elizabeth, unable to contain herself, let out a surprised laugh.

  “I will allow that I may have done so on some rare occasions,” she said, smiling. “But that does not change my initial statement. Though I may occasionally express opinions that are not my own, I can assure you, sir, that this one is very much mine, as well as that of many others in my company.”

  Mr. Darcy was silent for a long moment.

  “I find Hertfordshire interesting,” he said at last. “And slightly confusing.”

  “Confusing, sir?” Elizabeth asked, failing to keep the surprise from her voice. He nodded.

  “Yes. It is very different from my home in Derbyshire. And though Hertfordshire is beautiful, it is a very different kind of beauty than I am used to,” he said, turning to look back at her again. “I would not call it a conventional beauty, but I find that it has its appeal.”

  Elizabeth, unable to make out his expression, cast her eyes back toward the ground.

  “People here are very open, but I have not yet determined whether I appreciate that or not,” Mr. Darcy continued. “In all, I have not been able to thoroughly decide if I do enjoy Hertfordshire. I came here with the intent of assisting my friend on estate business, but outside of visiting him, I have yet to determine if it is a location I wish to seek out in the future.”

  Elizabeth gave a slightly annoyed smile and let out a small bark of laughter, which was as different from her earlier laugh as possible.

  “You are very open and blunt, Mr. Darcy. Has anyone told you that?”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyebrows knit together as he stared at her.

  “You are hardly one to speak, Miss Elizabeth. I have rarely met a young lady so vocal in her opinions as you are.” There was a pause before he continued. “Has my frankness offended you?”

  “No, sir,” she said, though she was indeed slightly offended. “It is just shocking to hear one speak so candidly when asked about an opinion. I am unaccustomed to people telling me what they truly think.”

  “Disguise of any kind is my abhorrence,” he said, without hesitation. “When I am asked a genuine question and there is an equal respect between both parties, I see no reason to suppress or obscure my true opinions for the sake of false civility.”

  Though Elizabeth appreciated the heart of the speech, she could not help but feel that familiar wave of annoyance. While many may have found that level of openness refreshing and admirable in a man, Mr. Darcy’s bluntness somehow managed to only increase his appearance of arrogance in her mind.

  “Well, sir,” she replied eventually, “I can only hope that the remainder of your time in Hertfordshire will help you to secure a more favorable opinion of our neighborhood.”

  Mr. Darcy was quiet for a moment longer, and in the silence of the morning Elizabeth could hear the choruses of early birds and the faint sounds of Mr. Darcy’s horse chuffing and stomping gently at the ground.

  “I will say one thing about Hertfordshire that truly intrigues me,” Mr. Darcy said finally. “Never have I been in a place that discusses magic so often, or is so willingly accepting of it.”

  “Magic?” Elizabeth said, her heartbeat beginning to speed up.

  “Yes, Miss Elizabeth, magic,” he said. Elizabeth swallowed in an attempt to combat her suddenly dry mouth.

  “Indeed, sir, I have heard you mention it on several occasions now. It appears that you are rather fascinated by it. Is it a study of yours?”

  “No,” he said quickly, almost curtly.

  “I only mention it to…” his sentence drifted off. “While magic is not technically illegal, it is thoroughly unfashionable, and is simply not discussed. It is not something that is given credence or spoken about casually in drawing rooms. And yet upon my arrival in Hertfordshire, I have heard more casual discussion, gossip, and general acceptance of it than I have in my whole life.”

  He stopped speaking and turned to look at Elizabeth meaningfully.

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” he asked.

  “I suppose that depends on your definition of interesting. Though I must admit, until making your acquaintance I had certainly never discussed magic in a drawing room before,” Elizabeth responded, her voice tight.

  Mr. Darcy was looking at her intently, his eyes narrowed slightly.

  “It is my opinion that magic is often used as a crutch by those seeking an easy solution, and is often practiced by individuals who are naive and unaware of its true nature. Wouldn’t you agree?” he asked, his voice strangely soft. Elizabeth’s anger was returning quickly.

  “I have never given it any thought, sir.” She suppressed another sigh and pointedly turned her attention back to the sweeping view before her.

  How aggravating this man was! At times she felt inclined to believe that he was more than his first impression, and yet, time and time again he only proved her correct. He was an abominable sort of man who, unfortunately, seemed to occasionally comport himself as a good one, she believed. The contradiction of it all was wildly humorous, in an exceedingly aggravating sort of way.

  “Forgive me sir, but it is getting late. I should be returning home now. I thank you for your company; it was most enlightening.”

  She bobbed a small curtsey and, not waiting for him to bid goodbye in return, quickly took off down the back of the hill, heading toward a fence that divided the mount
from a field of wild lavender in the hopes that Mr. Darcy would not attempt to follow her over the fence. She did not look back even once as she hopped the stile quickly, and continued back to Longbourn, feeling exceedingly unsettled.

  VII

  As it was still early, Elizabeth had expected to find the inhabitants of Longbourn still in bed or preparing for the morning, and as a result was surprised when she passed by the door of her father’s study and heard voices from within.

  “This is unacceptable papa! I simply refuse to believe it,” she heard Lydia shrieking.

  “Lydia,” came Jane’s soft, warning voice. Elizabeth knocked gently, and a hush fell over the room. She opened the door slowly and stepped inside, only to see all four of her sisters gathered around their father’s desk. Mr. Bennet sat behind his large oak desk, his fingers steepled against his temples.

  “Papa, what’s going on?” Elizabeth asked, closing the door behind her.

  “Our father is selling us to that horrid man in order to keep his magic books,” Lydia said petulantly in the corner. Kitty, who was sitting at Lydia’s feet, nodded, her face downcast and small tears threatening the edge of her eyes. Elizabeth bit her lip and frowned. She had desperately hoped that their father wouldn’t say anything to the other girls about Mr. Collins.

  She spied a glance at Jane, and felt her stomach drop. Jane, like Kitty, appeared to have a suspicious twinkling in her eye, and her head was bent as she stared down at her feet. Her hands were settled in her lap, but her knuckles had practically turned white she was grasping them so tightly.

  Elizabeth sat down at Jane’s feet and put her head in her elder sister’s lap for a moment before turning to Mr. Bennet.

  “Mr. Collins has apparently taken a liking to me, father,” Elizabeth said. “I cannot say that I am happy for it, but he seems to have made a choice, so I do not think we should worry my sisters about it.” Lydia snorted.

  “Lizzy, you cannot marry him!” Lydia exclaimed. “He is so boring and horrid! Father, why can’t we just banish him? If we barr him from the house, he would never be able to enter it after he inherits and would have to give up his right to the land, so it could revert back to one of us!”

  Elizabeth stared at her for a long second, before turning to Mr. Bennet.

  “Lydia actually has a good point…” she began, sitting up, but Jane shook her head and placed her hand on Elizabeth’s.

  “We cannot banish him from what is rightfully his, Lizzy,” Jane said softly. Clearing her throat slightly, Jane looked up. “Mr. Collins only fixated on you because mamma told him I was soon to be engaged. It was wrong of her to deceive him like that. As the oldest sister, it is my duty to marry to advance and preserve our family. If anyone must marry to save our magic, it will be me. And as oldest, it is my right to be mistress of Longbourn. I will not see my sisters turned out or our magic stripped from us.”

  “Jane, no!” Elizabeth exclaimed, turning to look at her sister. “Jane, what about Mr. Bingley? I know you feel for him, and that would be such an excellent marriage. You cannot throw that away because of misplaced family duty!”

  Jane turned beet red and shook her head.

  “Do not say such things, Lizzy. There is nothing but friendship between Mr. Bingley and me, and it is dishonest to suggest knowledge of something that does not exist.” Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest, but Jane had already stood up and smoothed her skirts.

  “I appreciate your concern, Lizzy, but it is over nothing. I feel nothing for Mr. Bingley, and it will bring nothing but pain to focus on what might have been.”

  Jane left the room quickly, leaving four stunned and silent sisters behind her.

  “I still think we should banish him,” Lydia said quietly at last. Mr. Bennet let out a loud sigh.

  “There will be no banishing in this house. Now, leave me, please, for I’m sure Mr. Collins will be looking for you and I have absolutely no desire to see the gentleman,” he said, shooing his daughters away from his book room. Dutifully they rose as one and left, Mary lingering slightly in order to walk with Elizabeth out into the hall.

  “Can you think of any way around this?” Mary asked her older sister quietly once they were alone. Elizabeth shook her head.

  “No, unfortunately. Short of Mr. Collins dying. I was hoping you might have an idea, but I was hesitant to tell anyone because I was rather worried Jane would react like this,” Elizabeth whispered back as they made their way upstairs. Glancing toward the bedroom she shared with Jane, she noticed the door was closed and instead followed Mary into the chamber she occupied by herself.

  “Do you think she truly has no feelings for Mr. Bingley?” Mary asked, shutting the door behind her. Elizabeth let out a loud sigh and allowed herself to fall back onto Mary’s bed.

  “Honestly? I think she is deluding herself. You should have seen him while she was ill, Mary. He was positively wrecked with worry. And she cares for Mr. Bingley, I know she does. But if she thinks it is her duty to marry Mr. Collins, she will shut down and give him no encouragement. And even worse, I believe she will close off her heart to him in order to save herself from future pain.”

  “I do not agree that she should spurn Mr. Bingley if he is indeed interested, but if it is not reciprocated, I do think it is wise that she stifle any feelings she may have before she allows them to grow. History has been extremely clear on what happens when a witch suffers heartbreak, or an unrequited or unfulfilled love,” Mary said softly.

  Elizabeth’s head shot up.

  “I do not know what history you are talking about. What happens?” she asked, her voice desperate. Mary eyed her closely, and for a moment Elizabeth expected a lecture on the importance of magical education, but none came.

  “It often leads a witch to do senseless, dangerous things. And as they turn more bitter, their heart will turn colder; all magic they perform will take on a harder edge, and is more likely to harm than heal. And if her emotions are strong enough, her love can turn into a curse.”

  Elizabeth gasped, her hands flying to her mouth.

  “Mary, we cannot let that happen. Jane is too pure, too kind. Such a hardness would kill her very spirit, you know this,” Elizabeth cried. Mary nodded.

  “I agree, but I do not know what we can do. It is out of our hands for the moment, and much depends on who Mr. Collins decides to prefer. Perhaps you will be lucky and he will continue to favor you.”

  Elizabeth snorted.

  “Lucky indeed! To be the wife of the most ridiculous man in all of England,” she muttered, looking up to catch the hard, disapproving Mary was giving her. “Don’t look at me like that Mary. I still think Lydia had a shockingly good plan with her banishing idea.”

  Mary did not change her expression at all, and with a sigh Elizabeth laid there in silence, ruminating over the very unfortunate direction her life appeared to be traveling, and debating how angry her family would be if she did indeed try to banish Mr. Collins.

  ***

  Though she had just returned from her walk, Elizabeth found it impossible to stay at Longbourn. Jane had resigned herself to their room for the day, and Elizabeth suspected that her older sister was collecting herself for the bitter reality of letting Mr. Bingley go; and as such, Elizabeth both wished to give her privacy and was excessively frustrated at her older sister’s stubbornness.

  Borrowing a basket from the kitchen, Elizabeth filled it with bread, jam, dried meats, and several small clothes and dresses she had been working on with the intent of gifting to the tenants that lived on Longbourn’s property. With the excitement of new neighbors, Mr. Collins visit, and Jane’s illness, Elizabeth had not visited them in several weeks, and had been growing increasingly more ashamed of her absence.

  The sky was a bright blue and the air was crisp and cool as she set out on her walk, feeling invigorated even though she had already hiked a great distance that day. She glanced up at the path to Oakham Mount as she passed, as if expecting Mr. Darcy and his great beast to still be
up on the hill. She shook her head with a small smile and increased her pace.

  Many of the tenant cottages were situated down the hill from Longbourn, near where Longbourn and Netherfield’s lands intersected just before a large expanse of woodlands, and she headed to the farthest farm first, where the smallest of the tenant cottages stood. She walked past the farm, waving hello to several sheep who stopped to stare at her, and called out to a child running toward her.

  “Hello, Grace!” she said, stopping to give the girl a hug. “How have you been?”

  Before Grace had the opportunity to answer, Elizabeth found herself surrounded by children, each jumping and vying for attention and calling out her name. She greeted them each individually, having known all of the Smythe children since they were small, and was in quick order escorted toward the house by the small flock of siblings.

  She had just passed the barn and was approaching the cottage when she caught sight of a large, solemn black horse tied patiently out front, and she stopped immediately, causing several of the children to run into her inelegantly. She stared at the horse again, and was about to ask Grace who it belonged to when Mr. Darcy emerged from the cottage, deep in conversation with Mr. Smythe, the farmer who lived there.

  Mr. Darcy looked up to see her drowning in children, and tilted his head to the side for a moment in what appeared to be either confusion or amusement before tapping his hat and bowing to her.

  “Miss Elizabeth,” he said, “What an unexpected surprise, running into you again so soon.”

  She curtseyed to him and then turned to Mr. Smythe.

  “Mr. Smythe, how are you doing today?” she called to the farmer, ignoring Mr. Darcy’s presence for the moment. The older man nodded at her and smiled.

  “Quite well, Miss Elizabeth. And how’s yer family?” he asked politely, glancing between Elizabeth and the silent, tall fellow next to him.

  “Very well, thank you! I have brought some cured meat from Longbourn, along with several dresses for your youngest. She is not yet six months old, correct?”