An Unnatural Inheritance: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Virginia Brand

  “Georgiana,” Elizabeth began, but the girl shook her head.

  “No, please allow me to finish. I know you are a stranger to me by society, and it is unthinkable to tell you such things, but I could not truly convey the depth of my gratitude if you were not aware of just how much I owe to you and your sisters, Miss Elizabeth,” Georgiana said. “I have begun a study of magic again — though I will allow it to be a small one, as Fitzwilliam does not particularly approve, but he does not discourage it either, and has even engaged in some discussions with me.”

  Elizabeth laughed lightly, though she did not feel the humor.

  “I can only imagine,” she responded dryly, and Georgiana laughed in return.

  “My brother is much older and wiser than me, and I have always deferred to his judgement in all matters, but I believe you have helped him to see that he has been wrong in at least one regard — keeping a witch from her magic is not wise. My body is healed, and my mind and spirit feel reborn; eager and excited for the first time since the loss of my father, if I must be honest.”

  Elizabeth felt pin pricks at the corner of her eyes, and she blinked back tears. How much this girl had suffered! She wished to take her into her arms, to stroke her hair as she did her own sisters, but she could not. She did not know how to act, truthfully, though she knew she was not deserving of this girl’s gratitude.

  “Georgiana, you give me too much credit. I do not deserve it. Your health and spirits are entirely your own accomplishment, and I will not take credit for it,” Elizabeth said quietly. “Indeed, I feel unworthy and unequal to accepting such praise, for I have injured your family so badly I hardly know how to make things right.”

  “Well, I can help you there, for I am determined that ours should be a true friendship, a strong connection that should always be continued,” Georgiana said cheerily. “At the risk of appearing too forward, Miss Elizabeth, I must insist that you agree. That is the only way you may absolve this debt you believe yourself to have.”

  Elizabeth laughed, a true, delighted sound born of surprise and enjoyment.

  “I daresay you are as stubborn as your brother. But very well, I shall agree — and please, call me Elizabeth.”

  “Very well then, Elizabeth,” Georgiana smiled. “I am quite serious. We shall be very good friends.” The younger girl gave her an impish smile and hugged her arm closer. “As close as sisters.”

  XXX

  When the Gardiner’s carriage pulled up Pemberley’s long and elegant lane, they discovered a small party awaiting them in front of the house. Mr. Darcy strode toward the carriage, his long legs carrying him quickly, followed closely by Colonel Fitzwilliam and Georgiana. They reached the carriage just as it stopped, and, without waiting for a coachman, Mr. Darcy opened the door and offered his hand to Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth.

  Elizabeth stepped down, blinking into the sunlight as she craned her head to look up at Mr. Darcy. He smiled down at her, a wide, boyish grin that caught her off guard and left her slightly breathless. She stepped to the side and curtseyed to Colonel Fitzwilliam as Mr. Darcy greeted her uncle, and attempted not to stare in wonder at the house before her.

  When they had crested the ridge overlooking the park, she had bit down on her tongue at the first sight of the house; grand, sweeping, and breathtakingly gorgeous. It had none of the added decor of Rosings, no elaborate gardens or bushes to obscure it. It simply was, existing perfectly in coexistence with its surrounding wood.

  Though elegant, it was far more rugged and wild than Elizabeth had expected from its proper, buttoned-up master. But then again, on closer inspection of both house and master, she could easily see how much they belonged together.

  Greetings were dispensed quickly and the guests shown inside, where Elizabeth was barely able to look at everything around her, for they moved quickly. Mr. Darcy gestured as they walked, giving small tours and pointing out rooms as they made their way toward a sitting room on the south side of the house, which looked out onto the wide expanse of grounds. Mr. Darcy was all at ease, talking with her uncle and soliciting after her aunt’s friends, his usual reserve and fastidiousness gone.

  Elizabeth could not account for this change in demeanor, and indeed she barely spoke, for she was so amazed by his attentions to her family and his lively disposition that she was not confident in her ability to hold suitable conversation.

  “He is much happier when he is home,” Colonel Fitzwilliam said to her quietly, after noticing her wondering gaze. “I believe he feels a bit safer on his own territory.”

  “I hardly doubt Mr. Darcy feels unsafe anywhere,” Elizabeth whispered back with a smile. “By the way, Colonel, I did not properly tell you the other day how delighted I am to see you here. I never was able to tell you how thankful I am for your assistance in London, truly.”

  “Speak no more of it, promise me,” he responded with a smile.

  “Georgiana, may I convince you to play for us?” Mr. Darcy called across the room, causing Elizabeth to look up as the younger girl flushed beside her.

  “Oh, please, I have heard so much of your talent,” Elizabeth said eagerly. “I would truly love to hear you.”

  Georgiana flushed a brighter red and looked at Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner in panic. Sensing her discomfort, Mr. Darcy crossed the room in quick strides to place a hand on his sister’s shoulder.

  “You need not play if you are uncomfortable, birdy,” she heard him whisper to his sister quietly, and Elizabeth smiled slightly, though she looked away so as to avoid the appearance of having overheard.

  “I do not wish to play alone,” Georgiana responded quietly, and Mr. Darcy straightened up and cleared his throat.

  “Perhaps Miss Elizabeth would be willing to join you at the pianoforte?” Mr. Darcy asked with a small smile in her direction. Elizabeth shook her head.

  “Truly, do not make me play with Miss Darcy, for I am terrible. I could not bear to destroy her performance with my inclusion.”

  “My niece is representing herself very poorly!” Mr. Gardiner called across the room. “Whenever she plays for our friends in London, she is always received quite well.”

  Elizabeth flushed and shook her head, laughing slightly.

  “I am not fixed with false modesty, I assure you all, and my uncle does no favors by exaggerating my skills.”

  “Darcy, why don’t you play with Georgiana?” called Colonel Fitzwilliam, a wicked smile on his face. “It has been far too long since I have been treated to a family performance, and I’m sure Miss Elizabeth and her friends would find it a rare delight.”

  Mr. Darcy’s eyes widened and he looked as though he might strangle the colonel, and Elizabeth found her face stretched into a wide, wolfish smile.

  “A rare delight, indeed,” she said, unable to contain her impish eagerness. “I had no idea musical prowess was a family trait.”

  Mr. Darcy, had he been another man, would have flushed, but instead he nodded gravely.

  “Very well,” he said seriously, and stood to escort Georgiana to the pianoforte like a man to the gallows. Elizabeth let out a small laugh as he pulled out the bench with a grimace. Colonel Fitzwilliam settled into the chair between her and her aunt and crossed his legs, leaning back in his chair as if expecting a long performance.

  “It is not too late to end this madness, before you all suffer terribly,” Mr. Darcy called from the pianoforte.

  Elizabeth looked up as Mr. Darcy and Georgiana sat down at the instrument, and Georgiana began playing a gentle, lively tune that — though perhaps a little juvenile — appeared to bring a large smile to the younger girl’s face. Elizabeth caught herself holding her breath slightly as she waited for Mr. Darcy’s hands to alight on the keys and when they at last did, she almost let out a high laugh, for his role in the song was clearly to antagonize Georgiana.

  He played the opposite of her at all times, sometimes finishing her pretty chords with an unexpected note, and the two danced across the keys in a spirited battle that,
while hardly elegant, was exceedingly joyful to listen to. Georgiana could not help but giggle at points and was often met with a small laugh from her brother as well, who had a large smile fixed to his face. Elizabeth had never seen him look so carefree or happy.

  When they finished, brother and sister stood with satisfied smiles and took their bow and curtsey quite seriously as their audience clapped enthusiastically, and Colonel Fitzwilliam even let out a whoop.

  “Mr. Darcy, I never took you for such a musical proficient. Does your aunt know you play so well?” Elizabeth teased, causing Mr. Darcy to glower appropriately, but Georgiana put a small hand on his elbow.

  “Brother, let us play another! For you can hardly accept such high praise from Elizabeth when she has not actually seen your true talent,” Georgiana said, an eager look on her face. Mr. Darcy shook his head.

  “No, I am quite happy to accept Miss Elizabeth’s undeserved praise and leave it at that,” he joked back, but Georgiana would broker no resistance, and soon he was seated back at the instrument again, an exaggerated look of annoyance on his face, though Elizabeth could tell he was biting back a smile each time he looked up and their eyes met.

  “Your Mr. Darcy is far more personable than everyone had described,” Mrs. Gardiner leaned over to whisper to Elizabeth as Mr. Darcy and Georgiana conferred at the instrument. Elizabeth blushed lightly.

  “He is not mine,” she hissed back, but her aunt only gave her an indulgent smile.

  “Indeed, he seems quite amiable. I see how he and Mr. Bingley are so close,” her uncle added in a louder voice, causing Colonel Fitzwilliam to cough in an attempt to cover a laugh.

  Elizabeth’s blushed deepened, and she straightened up as the siblings began to play again, this time a much slower piece which Georgiana again began. The girl’s skill was much better displayed with this piece, and Elizabeth delighted in her gentle playing and the elegant way in which she conveyed her feeling into the piece. When Mr, Darcy joined her, it was clear at once that the brother did not posses the skills of the sister, but he did admirably well, gently plucking his way along to a piece that was clearly well practiced by both.

  Elizabeth found herself entranced, leaning forward slightly with each swell of music, her eyes unable to move from Mr. Darcy’s slightly bent form. Midway through the song, he looked up, his eyes leaving the keys and latching on to hers, and for a moment Elizabeth thought that her breath had caught in her lungs and that she had lost the ability to breath, but then he smiled at her — a slow, genuine smile that unveiled his dimples and was just for her.

  When the song ended, it took her a moment to regain herself and clap along with her family and the colonel, and when she did she still looked directly at Mr. Darcy.

  “Georgiana, you are a delight to listen to,” she said as brother and sister approached, “Truly, your brother was not wrong about your talent.”

  The younger girl flushed prettily, and put her arm on her brother’s and smiled.

  “I have had a wonderful supporter and teacher,” she demurred, but Mr. Darcy shook his head.

  “No, no, it has been a great long time since I taught you anything about your instrument, birdy. Master became pupil many years ago.”

  “Mr. Darcy, you were… tolerable, I suppose,” Elizabeth said, throwing him a wicked grin. Georgiana’s face fell, and Mr. Darcy’s expression filled with worry until he registered the smile on her face, and he relaxed once more, laughing loudly. Georgiana looked between the two of them, confused.

  “I am sure my playing was hardly enough to tempt a woman of your discerning taste, Miss Elizabeth,” he said with a handsome bow, then cleared his voice. “Miss Elizabeth, my sister has been quite eager to show you the greenhouse. Would you be interested in accompanying us for a tour?”

  Elizabeth nodded, then turned to her aunt, an expectant look on her face, but before she had been able to open her mouth, Mrs. Gardiner shook her head.

  “Oh, my dear that sounds wonderful, but you know how I sneeze in greenhouses, with so many flowers. No, thank you Mr. Darcy, but my husband and I will abstain. After all, Colonel Fitzwilliam was just telling us about your lake.”

  “I offered to show Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner that pretty path by the lake — if you and Georgiana wish to show Miss Elizabeth the greenhouse, you would be well situated to join us when you are done?”

  Elizabeth glanced at her aunt, who nodded her approval lightly, and took the outstretched arm offered to her by Colonel Fitzwilliam. Mr. Gardiner took the other arm, and the three processed out of the music room quickly, laughing gaily at something the colonel had said and leaving Elizabeth and the Darcy siblings alone.

  She looked at them, feeling the sudden awkwardness of the moment, and was searching for something to say when Mr. Darcy stepped forward and offered her his arm.

  “My sister is very proud of the greenhouse, and has been most eager to show it to you. We don’t show it to visitors, you must understand, so she has rarely been able to show it off,” he said quietly as Georgiana fell into step beside them.

  “My brother speaks as though it was my own labor, but truly, he is the one who sustained it!”

  Elizabeth smiled, though slightly confused over the enthusiasm for a greenhouse, and allowed herself to be escorted out of the room. She had assumed they would turn left, toward the back of the house, but instead they went right, and followed the hall to a wing of the house that had not been on the initial tour.

  “It’s in the family wing of the house, near the private apartments, because… well, you’ll see,” Mr. Darcy said quietly as he steered them down a hall filled with portraits and paintings. This collection was far less formal than the imposing portrait gallery filled with the likenesses of long dead Darcys; this one instead contained a series of group portraits — four dark haired women posed together in one, the Pemberley lake behind them; in another, a dark eyed woman posed with two small children.

  One portrait in particular caught Elizabeth’s eye, however, as it was larger than many of the others. A tall, slender man with dark hair looked away from the scene, a small smile on his face as his gaze looked down on a slender blonde woman. By the man’s side stood a boy of no older than thirteen or fourteen, his dark hair unruly and a stern expression on his face that looked far too solemn for a boy so young. In the blonde woman’s lap sat a small, velvet clad babe with golden curls.

  “That’s my mother,” Georgiana said at her side, pointing up at the slim blonde woman. “And that’s my father.” Elizabeth’s eyes flicked from the woman to the tall, imposing man. He seemed impossibly familiar, from the rigid stance to the almost hidden smile.

  “You have his likeness,” Elizabeth told Mr. Darcy, who had approached from her other side. Mr. Darcy cocked his head to the side slightly, and gave a small shrug.

  “I have been told it often, but to be true, I do not fully see it.”

  “You have his smile,” she said softly, glancing up at the gentleman’s face. The corners of his lips twitched, but he did not say anything, instead taking her arm again and leading her further down the hall, pointing out several paintings by Georgiana as they passed.

  “This is the family compartments,” he said, gesturing down a hall. “Georgiana’s rooms are at the end here, and the master apartment is just there.”

  Elizabeth avoided looking where he gestured, afraid of the blush that would appear if she even looked at the direction of Mr. Darcy’s rooms. She hurried along instead, her head down, and paused at the top of the stairs as Georgiana gave a small gasp.

  “I have forgotten my sketchbook!” the young girl exclaimed “You two go on, I must find it. I will meet you there momentarily.” She smiled innocently and disappeared down the hall in the direction of her room before Elizabeth had time to speak.

  “Should we wait for her? I’m sure it wouldn’t be but a moment,” Elizabeth asked, but Mr. Darcy shook his head.

  “No, that is not needed. She knows the way.”

  They walked i
n silence down the vast dark wood staircase and into a sunny hallway with two large glass doors at the end. Mr. Darcy withdrew a small key from his jacket, unlocked the door gently, and stood aside for Elizabeth to enter.

  The greenhouse was breathtaking, to put it lightly. Plants crawled up the white walls, ferns hung over windows, and the far wall appeared to be taken up by herbs. Every available surface was covered with greenery of some kind, save for a large workbench in the back, where several small vials were set out. Behind it stood a series of shelves filled with books, pots, tools, and vials. Dried herbs hung in neat rows, punctuated by bunches of different colored feathers that had been bound together and suspended.

  “It’s a witch’s garden!” Elizabeth exclaimed, pulling her hands up to her mouth as she stepped further into the room, her feet echoing lightly on the granite floor. She ran her hand along several small lavender stems, then bent to inhale their aroma.