Mr. Darcy's Foreboding: A Pride and Prejudice Variation

by Glenna Mason

  By ten that morning, Darcy was riding Midnight to Edward Street, leading Callie by her bridle. Wickham was still in bed, so he left a note. It read:

  Dear George: Please bring Callie back to Netherfield Monday. The colonel and I have news you may appreciate. See you for lunch.

  Fitz

  *****

  Darcy suggested an afternoon at the brand new London Museum. Jeweler and goldsmith, William Bullock, had just opened this museum, the first to be designed with an Egyptian flavor; it featured an eclectic display, including fascinating trinkets, now objet d’art, brought from the South Sea Islands by the famous explorer Captain Cook.

  Darcy had not had an opportunity yet to see the disparate collection himself. He knew he could not choose a more perfect person to partner with on his first viewing than his father-to-be. It was a successful suggestion, as everyone found something in the collection to view with astonishment.

  Mr. Phillips arrived at seven. Dinner was at eight. Darcy hoped to entertain Mr. Phillips with some special attention tonight. So he was pleased that when the gentlemen went to the library to relax with their cigars, port and a little game of cards, the ladies decided to retire to their rooms for the night to read and chat.

  “I found this novel in your library,” Jane said, leaving the title hanging.

  “My body aches from riding. I’m going to pretend I’m in Bath and soak in a bath,” Mary asserted.

  “I want to sit with Kitty and Elizabeth and get to know them better,” Georgiana declared. “They’ll be going home soon.”

  The day at the races was forfeited when severe storms raged across the city, bringing thunder, lightning and blowing rain.

  “Now you ladies can read and chat to your heart’s content,” Darcy said at breakfast. “I’ll send a carriage for your mother, aunt and sister later in the morning.”

  “Yes. Let them sleep late.”

  The carriage returned with two ladies, not three.

  “Where’s Lydia?” Mr. Bennet demanded.

  Mrs. Bennet, tears in her eyes, handed him a note. It read:

  Mother: I am eloping with the Count. He adores me. We are off to Gretna Green. More word soon. Your Lydia

  Mr. Bennet was outraged. “Mrs. Bennet, you were her chaperone.”

  “We had separate bedrooms.”

  Mr. Bennet stalked out of the room. “Probably just another fortune hunter,” he muttered.

  There was nothing to be done, except wait. Lydia might very likely be a bride by now.

  Sunday after church, Georgiana hugged everyone good-bye and thanked them for a truly exceptional visit.

  The carriages were loaded with trunks, footmen and Bennets. Escorted by Bingley, Darcy and Fitzwilliam on horseback, the equipages rumbled over the London cobblestones out onto the muddy ruts of the countryside roadway.

  “I’ve taken another week of vacation.”

  “You might as well retire.”

  “I may, but I have to get Wickham his lieutenancy first.”

  “Thank you.”

  *****

  Monday at noon, Chambers announced to Darcy, who was lounging in his bedroom, “Mr. Wickham to see you, sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Chambers. Please escort him to the south parlor. Colonel Fitzwilliam and I will meet him there. Please advise Mr. Bingley to meet us in his library at twelve-thirty.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Oh, and, Mr. Chambers, lunch for four at one please.”

  “Yes, sir, Mr. Darcy.”

  Darcy left his bedroom and knocked on Richard’s door. “South parlor, Fitzwilliam. Now,” he said through the door.

  “Be right down, Darcy.”

  When Darcy arrived in the parlor, Wickham was flipping a paper weight from hand to hand. Darcy was momentarily taken aback.

  “Darcy,” Wickham greeted, replacing the paper weight and moving in Darcy’s direction, hand extended.

  Darcy shook Wickham’s hand with a firm, friendly grasp.

  “It’s time, George.”

  “Time?”

  “Time to let go of the past and begin again.”

  “Yes, past time.”

  Just then Colonel Fitzwilliam entered the room, grabbing Wickham’s shoulder and shaking his hand.

  “Shall we sit?”

  They all agreed and headed for the arm chairs situated in front of the roaring fire.

  “Wickham, this morning I formally removed my military complaint at the militia headquarters. I have also applied in your name, with my recommendation of course, for a lieutenant’s commission in the Regulars. Two are currently available for a sum I am willing to pay on your behalf. One in the Prince Regent’s Guard in London and the other at a headquarters on the coast near Bristol. Your choice. They are both extraordinary assignments with superior locations,” Colonel Fitzwilliam informed him.

  “I . . . “

  “And I, Wickham, have decided to draft ten thousand pounds into a savings bond in your name. It will increase in value through the years, until such time as you decide to retire, wherein you will have enough to buy a small estate and become landed gentry,” Darcy said.

  “I . . . “

  “We have a condition.”

  “Of course.”

  “We need your word as a gentleman that you will never expect or request our financial assistance again in this lifetime.”

  “I give you my word as the gentleman my father and your father expected me to be and the one I became two days ago.”

  “Good!” Fitzwilliam said. “Let’s shake on it.” The three shook hands again, sealing the agreement like gentlemen should.

  Chambers knocked. “Mr. Bingley awaits you in the library, gentlemen.”

  The three crossed the hall and found Bingley closing a section of the bookcase.

  “Mr. Wickham, I’m pleased to welcome you to Netherfield.”

  “I brought Callie back. She’s in the stable yard.”

  “Fine. She is Mr. Bennet’s mare. We will deliver her to him this afternoon.”

  “Thank you. He might not wish to see me.”

  “Perhaps not,” Bingley said cheerily. “Are you staying for lunch?”

  “Yes. Darcy invited me.”

  “Good.” Bingley handed Wickham an envelope. “That is sufficient funds for you to purchase your own mare, plus a saddle and bridle, and should be plenty for you to lodge and feed her for at least a year.”

  This time tears came to Wickham’s eyes. “I’ve never had a horse of my own.”

  “Oh, and there’s enough for a buggy for her to pull on occasion too.”

  “What!”

  “For a start on your new life,” the three said in unison.

  The four men broke into a revelry of camaraderie, patting backs, hugging shoulders and outshouting one another.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Monday afternoon Bingley made an announcement to Darcy. “I am going to host a ball at Netherfield.”

  “Why? You just entertained the neighborhood with a hunt.”

  “I know, but Caroline will be arriving sometime in the near future, whenever it gets too dull in town. She has been satisfied so far because many of her society friends returned to town for the archbishop’s celebration of the archangel Michael. They will be going back to the country soon, and I will be receiving notice that she misses me terribly and just has to see me,” Bingley said.

  “Of course it will actually mean she’s wilting from boredom.” Bingley added. “Caroline has to be constantly drinking tea with the elite or socializing at a soiree. She has no facility for finding something useful to do, like making bandages for the sick or knitting socks for the soldiers.”

  “When she sends notice, I will be leaving for Pemberley.”

  “If we’re really fortunate, she won’t come until the Festive Season. I shall hope to entertain the Hursts then too of course.”

  “And these eventualities have inspired you to host a ball now? I’m not sure I comprehend.”

  “Ye
s, so I don’t have to host a ball then. If I have a ball now, no one will expect me to entertain during the holidays.”

  “With Caroline as your hostess.”

  “Exactly. I am quite popular, if I do say so myself, after my hunt breakfast. Can you imagine the nadir I would descend to in the community with Caroline turning her nose up at our guests, as soon as they arrive at the receiving line, snidely demeaning their gowns to Louisa in a purposely loud voice and later laughing at their crude dance acumen? I’d become a pariah.”

  “I begin to see your dilemma.”

  “So . . . “

  “So?”

  “So could Georgiana come down for a long week-end and be the hostess at my ball?”

  “Georgiana is a school girl. She is not yet out in society.”

  “I’d like to ask Miss Bennet of course. But that would hardly be proper since she hasn’t agreed to marry me.”

  “Have you asked her?”

  “Not yet.”

  “That may be why she hasn’t agreed.”

  “I realize it was totally acceptable for all the Bennet ladies to help a new neighbor as hostesses for an informal hunt breakfast, but not . . . “ Bingley stopped his statement, with a look of chagrin.

  “Yes, but not a formal ball. That would hint at mistress in our always ready for a scandal world.”

  “Who then?”

  Darcy thought a minute and then had a revelation. “Anne.”

  “Anne?”

  “Anne de Bourgh.”

  “Hallelujah!”

  “Yes, hallelujah. It will be a blessing to get her away from Rosings Park and her mother.”

  “And a blessing for me to have Lady Anne as my hostess.”

  “I wonder,” Darcy hesitated, worrying about the mistress scandal again. Then he brightened. “Would you allow me to host the ball with you? Since Georgiana is too young, it would be expected that my next closest kin, my first cousin Anne, would be requested to assist me. Then there would be nothing for the society wags to complain about.”

  Bingley clasped Darcy on the shoulder, grinning ear to ear, and answered, “Of course. Please join me as host.”

  “The Matlocks might come on their way back to Derby. Then they could take Anne on to their estate for the holidays.”

  “This is becoming a masterpiece.”

  “Perhaps Viscount Miles and his younger brother Mason also could join us as house guests for the ball. The two Heyburns will be returning to Derby soon anyway, and I sense that Miles has an inclination toward Miss Mary. Our little ball might be pivotal in forwarding the match. Otherwise, it will be months before they see each other. Slight affections might dim in all that time.”

  “We know the Baron, the Earl and His Grace, the Duke, will be in the county, as will be their sons and daughters. The guest list is beginning to look like a book of heraldry.”

  “And who knows—Lydia and Count Whatever His Name Is—may show up. For all we know Lydia is Countess Lydia by now.”

  “I hope the Count has counted on a life of escapades, for he is in for a plethora of them.”

  “Shall I write Anne?”

  “Please.”

  “I can send my note and the carriage for her in one fell swoop—surprise her mother. When is the ball anyway?”

  “I think Tuesday week would be sufficient notice. Will you request the Matlocks and the Heyburns join us?”

  “Certainly.”

  “I’ll send the other invitations out tomorrow. I’d better get busy,” Bingley said, moving to his desk. “Please ask Anne to hostess; tell her she’s expected immediately.”

  “I shall.” As Darcy left Bingley to his task, he thought, smiling, “Anne and Elizabeth can meet.” Darcy and Elizabeth had not yet formally announced their engagement. So far only Mr. Bennet and Georgiana knew. “My ball will be the perfect time to tell the world.”

  Darcy consulted Richard about his plans for Anne. “One of us should accompany the carriage. Otherwise Aunt Catherine might dissuade Anne,” the colonel warned.

  “It’s only a four hour drive. Let’s both go.”

  “Done. Let’s leave today at four, arrive at eight and leave in the morning with Anne at ten.”

  And so it was that Darcy sent Elizabeth a note that he was going to Rosings. He requested that she, Jane, Mary and Kitty come to dinner tomorrow night to meet his cousin Anne.

  Later, having received a reply in the positive, and having sent off his own invitations to the Matlocks and Heyburns to the ball Tuesday week, Darcy sought out Bingley in his study, where the latter was still laboriously writing invitations.

  “Bingley,” Darcy said, appalled at the scratchings in front of him, “those aren’t legible.” Darcy rang the bell.

  Chambers arrived at the door. “Chambers, who on the staff has the finest hand?”

  “Mrs. Chambers for sure. She’s an artist-in-waiting.”

  “Could you ask her to attend us now?”

  And so Mrs. Chambers took Bingley’s list to her office and, using calligraphy, easily completed the ball invitations in two hours.

  Meanwhile, although actually relieved by Mrs. Chambers’ expertise in penmanship and his own escape from invitation authorship, Bingley complained, “Did you come to check my hand writing?”

  “No, actually I wished to let you know that the colonel and I are leaving at four for Rosings Park, where tomorrow at ten we will abscond with Lady Anne. So in anticipation of that happenstance, I have taken the liberty of inviting all the Bennet sisters to dinner tomorrow to meet her. They can advise her at the time of all the oddities of the Netherfield neighborhood, so that she can be fully prepared for whatever absurdities come her way as hostess.”

  “Should be a delightful after dinner fare,” Bingley said amused. “I’ll be happy to hear the tales myself.”

  “As will I.”

  “Thank you, Darcy, for retrieving our hostess, and, oh, for rescuing the invitations also. We might not have had anyone for her to hostess.”

  “Shall I ring for Chambers and let him in on our plans?”

  “No, you have to travel to Kent. I’ll advise Chambers of our guest, the Lady Anne de Bourgh, and of our dinner plans for tomorrow evening.”

  “You might want to tell him about the ball also.”

  “Why? His wife wrote the invitations.”

  “Who knows if they speak to each other.” The two friends and future ball hosts burst into hearty laughter.

  *****

  Darcy sent a rider ahead with a letter for Anne, inviting her to Netherfield, requesting she be ready to travel after breakfast the next morning and warning her to not let his Aunt Catherine know. “Richard and I will take care of that detail, when we arrive tonight. Expect us at eight. Fitzwilliam,” Darcy had concluded his missive.

  The cook packed them a dinner of cold meat pies and fruit. The wine steward added two bottles of claret. At four the Darcy carriage pulled away from Netherfield, two excited young men aboard.

  “A new nemesis on the horizon.”

  “Yes, Aunt Catherine is more menacing than Wickham ever hoped to be.”

  “A dictator.”

  “A bigger version of your little Napoleon.”

  When Darcy and Fitzwilliam entered the parlor at eight for their surprise visit, Lady Anne and Lady Catherine had company.

  Anne jumped up. She ran into their hugs and kissed them on the cheek.

  “Richard, Fitzwilliam,” came a gruff voice from a pile of silk, “What is the meaning of this intrusion—uh—visit?”

  “We’re only here for one night, Aunt.”

  “To pick up Anne.”

  “Anne! I’d say not.”

  “The Earl decrees it.”

  “Of all the nerve.”

  “He takes after you,” Darcy whispered.

  “Yes, the Earl and the Countess are taking Anne to Derbyshire for the Festive Season this year, Aunt,” Richard announced. “Although they don’t know it yet,” he whispered to Darcy.<
br />
  “Yes, they do. I informed them in their invitation. And since I sent a runner to London, they should have received it by now,” Darcy whispered back.

  “As long as you’re here, can’t you stay a few days?”

  “Thank you, but actually no. We are due back Hertfordshire for a ball I’m hosting at Netherfield with Mr. Bingley. Anne is to be our hostess.”

  “What!”

  “May we be introduced to your guest please?”

  “Oh, this is Mr. Collins, the Hunsford curate. He’s of no special interest. Mr. Collins, my nephews.”

  The three men bowed.

  “Did I hear you mention Netherfield?”

  “Yes, Mr. Collins.”

  “Isn’t that near Meryton?”

  “It is.”

  “My estate is near that village too,” Collins said.

  “Your estate?”

  “Yes, Longbourn. It isn’t exactly mine yet. I am the entailed heir.”

  “Grrr.” A growl came unannounced from Darcy’s throat.

  “I hear that there are some pretty ladies in residence at Longbourn. I have longed to go there and meet them. One might suit my tastes. I’ll need a mistress when I’m master.”

  The growl grew louder. Richard’s throat commenced a growl of its own.

  “Perhaps you might allow me to ride with you to the neighborhood—as you’re here anyway—if my patroness would be so magnanimous as to excuse me for a few days.”

  “We will not,” Darcy said imperiously.

  Mr. Collins was taken aback, but nonetheless unabashedly asked, “Why not?”

  “I have no invitation from Mr. Bennet or Mr. Bingley to include you in our party,” Darcy pronounced.

  “Our carriage is full,” the colonel said, finalizing the query.

  “We will just find our own way to our usual rooms, Lady Catherine. We will see you at breakfast,” Darcy said, moving in the direction of the doorway.

  “Anne, we leave at ten,’ Richard, said, following Darcy.

  Their last view in exiting the parlor was that of Lady Anne beaming.

  *****

  At two Tuesday afternoon Darcy’s carriage pulled into the gates of Netherfield.