An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Virginia Brand

  “Does it seem like our powers are stronger?” Elizabeth asked tentatively one evening as the girls sat alone in the parlour, hunched over their respective needleworks.

  “Yes!” Mary exclaimed in relief, tossing aside her handkerchief. “I am so glad you noticed this, for I could not tell if I was simply imagining things. I have done research but there is very little written about situations like ours. Nothing written, to be precise.”

  “I thought much the same myself,” Jane said, nodding. “I gave Charles a small mixture for a cold, and instead of simply alleviating his aches, he was cured within a day completely. I have never had such success before.”

  “I cannot account for how we could be so much more capable now that we are freed from the land. Wouldn’t we be stronger with a central point to pull our power from?” Mary asked.

  “Father once explained the binding to me as sharing our magic with a thousand persons. Instead of using our power as we wish, it was channeled through the land, and diluted,” Elizabeth offered.

  “I spoke with Lydia,” Kitty said tentatively from the corner, interrupting the conversation. Every head turned to her.

  “You spoke with her? In a letter?” Mary asked sharply, but Kitty shook her head.

  “No, this was different. In the past, we have been able to communicate and call each other on the wind — like Lizzy did when Jane was so sick,” Kitty said, “but this time it was very clear, it was just her.”

  “Did you feel her emotions? I have experienced that before, when I felt exactly what Mr—” Elizabeth paused and colored before continuing. “Both Jane and I have experienced the emotions of other people when they are particularly heightened.”

  But Kitty was shaking her head.

  “No, she spoke to me through the mirror.”

  The room was silent for a long moment before Jane, Mary, and Elizabeth were all speaking at the same time.

  “This is incredible,” Elizabeth breathed as Mary pondered, “I wonder if it is replicable.”

  “You must try to speak to me like that while you are in the Lake District, Lizzy,” Jane said, her eyes bright. “That is, if you are comfortable. I do not wish to force you into using magic.”

  “We will see! I do admit, it will be strange to have access to our powers so far from home. I wonder if they would work in London?” Elizabeth mused. What a waste it would be if they worked now, when they would not work just a handful of weeks ago. To imagine how very different things would be if she and Jane had healed Miss Darcy while in London — indeed, if that had been the case, Elizabeth doubted she would know what she did now about Mr. Darcy’s magic.

  “I do not believe so. Even if not tied to the land, magic needs air and nature, you know this. London is not good for spells — it is why magic became so unfashionable, since it could not be practiced in the ton,” Jane replied sweetly. “But try something, a small spell when you are there next month. Tell us how it goes.”

  Elizabeth smiled and nodded her consent, though she knew she would not. She had not used magic since they had healed Miss Darcy, save for an occasional tea reading. She had not even agreed to help Jane mix herbs for Mr. Bingley’s cold. She was quite strict with herself on this matter; unless she felt it was truly justified, she would not use magic.

  She sat quietly listening to her sisters discuss their recent spells and their eagerness to try new ones, when at length she was called to her father’s study by Hill. Her stomach churned at the idea; though she had apologized for her harsh words, she and her father were not as they should be. Something had changed that night in the grove. They were not as close as they had been before, and no matter how she tried to recall their good memories and the deep respect she held for him as a child, Elizabeth had changed the way she viewed him, and such camaraderie and trust was difficult for her to feel once more.

  I never imagined myself so fickle a person, she thought as she sat down gingerly in the arm chair in front of her father’s desk. Her mind filled with the memory of Mr. Darcy sitting in this very chair, looking distinctly uncomfortable, and she smiled slightly. So quickly my allegiances have changed.

  “Hello, my girl, good to see you in cheerier spirits,” her father said, moving a series of vials and a scale he had before him. In his hand was a piece of paper. “I have some news, regarding your upcoming trip to the Lake District.”

  “Is it being canceled?” Elizabeth asked with dread, but her father shook his head.

  “No, no, nothing like that. Your uncle is expecting a rather large deal to come through within a matter of weeks, and as a result will not be able to be gone as long as he had anticipated. In addition, Jane’s wedding has added another conundrum. He has requested we move the trip up to next week and truncate it slightly, as he does not have time to go any farther than Derbyshire.”

  Derbyshire. The word stuck in her throat as wild thoughts enveloped her, but she pushed them all back. Be reasonable, Lizzy! She scolded herself.

  “Would this be amenable to you?” Mr. Bennet asked. Elizabeth nodded, not fully trusting herself to speak. Just because she would be in the same county as the man did not mean that she would see him. She did not even know if he would be at home. And what if she did? She knew she would likely see him at Jane’s wedding, though she admitted she would not have been surprised if he stayed away. Was she happy at the idea of seeing him, or dreading it? She did not know.

  “I am glad to hear that, as I have already sent my agreement; on one condition, however. I do not wish you to be near Mr. Darcy’s home. I must be quite strict on this matter; you are not to go to Pemberley.”

  “But why?” Elizabeth burst out angrily before she was able to catch herself. Her father frowned.

  “That is exactly why. I do not know what has come over you, Lizzy, but I do not like the influence this man has had on you. You do foolish things, your mood fluctuates between depressed and angry, and you have been very secretive. You did not even tell me that you met with him in Kent,” Mr. Bennet censured. Elizabeth flushed. It was best her father did not know of her dealings in Kent at all.

  “Father, I do not understand—”

  “This man is bad for you. You know the family stories, and I have worried since you cast that spell from my aunt’s book. She began acting just the same as you have, Lizzy, before we lost her. I could not bear to lose you too.”

  “Father, I am not turning cold, I assure you. I am not cursed. You do not understand—”

  “I understand that you love this gentleman, that’s very clear, Lizzy. God knows I do not know why. But you have attempted to move Heaven and Earth for him, and I have seen you pick him over me. No, don’t apologize, don’t deny it. But where is he? Hm? Has he returned your feelings? Has he made you an offer?”

  Elizabeth turned a bright pink, and her hand began shaking slightly as she moved to smooth her skirts, her eyes wide open to keep any tears from gathering in them. She could not tell him, could she?

  “Exactly as I thought. You are best to give up this man, my girl. Be happy again. Find a new gentleman to fall in love with and act a fool over; I’m sure the next one will reciprocate. Enjoy this holiday with your aunt and uncle and put him out of your mind. It is not wise to dwell on Mr. Darcy, child. It will only bring you pain.”

  XXIX

  Though she had promised her father she would not dwell, there was very little Elizabeth did other than think of Mr. Darcy during her trip. The beauty of Derbyshire was stunning, so much more wild and rugged than her neat, orderly Hertfordshire. Every rock face she climbed reminded her of his stubbornness, and each gust of wind sent her back to the stormy day in Kent. At times it was difficult to attend to conversations in the carriage with her aunt and uncle, because every mile brought her closer to where he may be.

  Her father had been right, to a degree. This trip had been enjoyable, and good for her. She loved Derbyshire; of that she was immediately sure. Her aunt and uncle were as charming company as ever, and she felt happier and freer
than she had for quite some time. She delighted so much over every scene and view that even her relatives had begun to tease her.

  “There are no militia men in red coats or great gentleman to escort you, but I daresay this trip has been enough to divert you, Lizzy,” her uncle teased as they stopped for a mid-morning break. Elizabeth, who had been staring off into the distance, turned back to him and smiled.

  “What are men compared to rocks and mountains, uncle? I would far prefer this holiday to the company of a militia man anyday. Come, how far are we from Lambton? That is the name of your town, isn’t it, aunt?”

  Her aunt nodded and smiled.

  “Indeed it is! We are quite close, I daresay. If my memory is correct, we are not a mile from the road to Pemberley, and Lambton is five miles further. I believe we will be there quite soon.”

  Elizabeth’s stomach flipped. Pemberley, only a mile away? She looked at the road unbidden, as if expecting Mr. Darcy to ride up suddenly.

  “I had no idea you grew up so near that estate, aunt,” Elizabeth said quietly. Her aunt glanced at Mr. Gardiner, an anxious look on her face and moved closer to Elizabeth. Neither had mentioned Pemberley, Mr. Darcy, or her father’s rule to Elizabeth during the trip, and though both had hoped she would open up and explain further, but she had not.

  “Oh, I was sure I had mentioned it. But it is not so close as you may think. As a girl, we rarely saw the family in town. They do not travel there often,” Mrs. Gardiner said, scanning Elizabeth’s face for any signs of reaction. She did not know what to make of the situation; for though her brother Mr. Bennet had been quite adamant that Elizabeth not see Mr. Darcy or go to his home, she could not understand why. Her brother had included no further information, and as such they did not know if Elizabeth was being protected from something or punished.

  “That is good, I suppose,” Elizabeth said in a small voice, feeling as though all the merriment of the trip had been stolen from her. Mrs. Gardiner eyed her husband knowingly, and he stood and cleared his throat.

  “Madeline, Elizabeth, if you’ll excuse me, I wish to have a word with the driver,” he said, dusting off his clothes and moving back toward where the carriage was parked on the road. Mrs. Gardiner wasted no time in reaching for Elizabeth’s hands.

  “Lizzy, tell me, what is bothering you? I have seen the look in your eyes this whole trip, and though I believe you have enjoyed yourself, there is a sadness there I cannot bear. Does it have to do with Mr. Darcy?” Elizabeth flushed and nodded slightly. Mrs. Gardiner sat back and sighed. “I will be honest, my dear, we have been wondering why your father will not permit you near Pemberley.”

  Elizabeth let out a bark of laughter that came out far harsher and more bitter than she intended.

  “He thinks it is good for me. That if I am barred from the estate and told to act as though it does not exist, I will simply forget all about Mr. Darcy. He thinks it is so simple!” Elizabeth burst out, her anger causing her to be more forceful than she usually was with her aunt. “He says it is concern, but I believe he is punishing me.”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s face showed that she clearly felt out of her depth, and greatly confused. Elizabeth sighed and stood up, folding her arms to her chest as she faced away from her aunt.

  “My father knows that I have feelings for Mr. Darcy. He does not wish me to be disappointed, he claims, and thus wishes me to avoid him.”

  Mrs. Gardiner stood and came to her niece, putting a hand on her elbow as she guided her to sit again. “Why does he think you will be disappointed?”

  Elizabeth stared at her aunt, attempting to make up her mind. Madeline Gardiner was not so much older than her, and uncommonly pretty. She had an open, friendly manner, and had never failed to listen when Elizabeth needed her. She had never told her aunt her deepest secret — though, like her uncle, she was sure the lady had an idea; she was far too intelligent not to. But Elizabeth had pledged to tell no one else, and she meant to keep her pledges. Chewing on her lip, she attempted to find the best way to explain the situation to her aunt without being directly untruthful.

  “My father does not understand all the particulars. Mr. Darcy has indeed offered for me, once,” Elizabeth said, and she saw surprise register across her aunt’s face. “I rejected him, because there were too many misunderstandings. I did love him though — I do love him — and it hurt me to do so, but I knew it was for the best. We would not have been a good match.”

  Mrs. Gardiner remained silent, processing this information.

  “But things have changed. We have come to know and understand each other better, I believe. I feel as though we may be able to begin again, to reset. I — I acted badly, and I hurt Mr. Darcy terribly, and though I have apologized, I do not know if he will ever forgive me. But I also fear I will never be given the opportunity to see if forgiveness is possible. I cannot help but feel terribly naive and foolish for these thoughts, but there they are. Father wishes to spare me from pain, because he is sure that Mr. Darcy would not offer for me, given my lack of fortune and connections. Father thinks him a vain, arrogant, prideful man, but he is not. He truly is not.”

  “Why have you not told your father all? You are so close,” her aunt questioned. Elizabeth shook her head.

  “I love and respect my father, but it is hard not to be blind to his defaults. I have known no man but him for so long, I have never thought that he should act any different. But he willfully chooses to misunderstand and not to act, and I realize we are not so similar as I once thought,” Elizabeth said sadly. “I have made many mistakes, and I am attempting to pay my penance for them. But it is difficult to know that, because of my father, I may never be allowed the chance.”

  Mrs. Gardiner’s eyes were furrowed in concern, but she remained silent, instead pulling her niece into a long embrace. After some time she stood, adjusted her skirts and held her hand out to Elizabeth.

  “Come, let us carry on to Lambton, and put this all behind us, shall we?” Elizabeth accepted her hand gratefully, and soon they were back on the road. Her joy and delight at the passing countryside was muted as she watched anxiously for any sign of Pemberley or a familiar rider, but none came. They passed the road leading to the estate without comment, and indeed Elizabeth did not even know it was behind them until they slowly began to turn into Lambton.

  ***

  Lambton was an enjoyable town, roughly the size of Meryton — perhaps a bit smaller — and though Elizabeth enjoyed meeting her aunt’s friends and relations, she was growing restless. Her uncle, tiring of the same social engagements, had begged off tea for the day, claiming a need to stay at the inn and work on business, and Mrs. Gardiner had encouraged Elizabeth to take the day to herself as well.

  There was little within the town to explore that Elizabeth had not already traversed, but she visited the bookseller near their inn once again, for lack of anything better to do. The store was small, with hardly any shelves, and she exhausted the selection quickly. But she stayed in the back longer than was needed, running her fingers along the spines. A foolish part of her had hoped that perhaps by loitering in this place, she would see him. For where better to reunite than a bookshop?

  But it became clear to her very quickly that no tall gentleman would arrive, and so she made her small purchase and left, setting out down the lane from the inn toward a small path she had spied going through the forest. She ambled along, book in hand, reading occasionally as she walked slowly down the road, and at length — having seen no other person — she took off her bonnet and let it swing in her hand as she shone her face up to the sun.

  The wind played at her curls and she smiled, her eyes closed in contentment as she took a deep breath. Her mind emptied; no guilt, no worry, no Mr. Darcy obscured her thoughts as she walked slowly, humming, enjoying the way the light danced through the trees. This relaxed, inattentive state was what allowed her to be caught unaware by the sound of hooves racing down the path toward her, and she barely managed to step out of the way with a sma
ll gasp as a rider shot by on a large black horse.

  Her heart beat wildly as the rider pulled on the reins, causing the horse to come up short, and she stared at the broad shoulders of his back as he turned the horse slowly in order to look at her. Her throat had closed, her lungs had stopped functioning completely, and she felt she might faint as he slowly removed his hat and she came face-to-face with —

  “Colonel Fitzwilliam!” she cried in delight, her stomach settling slightly.